The Pied Piper of Indie Rock Drunks!

Monday was my fifth time seeing Robert Pollard (second time Pollard as "Pollard" and not GBV). We arrived at the venue at about 9pm just in time to catch one of the opening acts, "Starling Electric". My friend sees many shows at the Bowery Ballroom and she tells me that the second of two opening acts MUST be next because it is so early. I disagree, but I am not so sure until I see a stack of clean white hand towels and pint bottles of Poland Spring waters. "Oh, everyone gets that", she says. "Wait until the bottle of whiskey comes out," I respond. The joke gets a couple chuckles from another friend who was a Pollard virgin until the last show in the Spring. Seconds later a bus-tub full of Miller Lite and a full 750ML bottle of Ceurvo are set next to the drum kit. "Ha! I was wright -- except it was tequila and not whiskey!"

Officially the show was not sold out, but the true fans were right out front.

Pollard: "We only come to New York 3 or 4 times a year!"

A cute, scruffy fan (the only person drunker than Pollard before the first song began) starts dancing frantically. While the entire crowd wasn't as enthusiastic as those up front, he was not alone. He was grabbed for the first time by the bouncer but came back just a few songs later. Several guys then surrounded him catching him and tossing him back into the center each time he got out of control. He staged dived twice, and the second time he was "removed" for several more songs.

Pollard was playing songs from Normal Happiness and From a Compound Eye mostly, unlike the other Pollard tours where he played PLENTY of GBV. Generally the crowd was OK with it. They were true fans and not hung up on details like GBV v. BP. Just once did I hear someone yell out for GBV.

The second time dude took off from the stage I was there to keep him from getting stomped after the initial crash from the stage. By this time i was loving him, not just because he was drunk and cute and reckless, but because he cared more than anyone. Just before the end of the regular set he went up for the last time. The boys took him away. I followed. "He is with me!, I'll take charge. Let him back in." "Step inside or you will be tossed as well!" I wend around one last time but got the same answer. Pollard was about to go back on. The cute scruffy boy was tossed. There was nothing to be done. Except. . .

Pollard: "When you motor away. . . "

The crowd it responded with unbridled enthusiasm when Pollard started kicking out the GBV for the encore. The driving eighth note guitar riff that began the song was electric. Pollard offered his Tequila one last time to the audience. I reached up and grabbed it and took a huge swig. At that moment, as if possessed I hoisted myself up on the stage and took a dive. I don't remember jumping or how I did it or how long I stayed up, but seconds later I was back on my feet astonished at the things I'll do on brownliquor.

Pollard: "The Goldheard mountain top, Queen directory!"

Met the cute mosh boy again on the Z train back to Brooklyn. He had sobered up a bit and was ready to talk. I filled him in on the encore, but he knew as he was listening right outside. Uncle Bob sounded great. The band did too.