Generic Rehash
Ponderous ponderings on the Demons' "Reunion Show"
On December 21, 2004, the Demons of Stupidity reconvened for Cafe Wednesday (despite the fact that the 21st was a Tuesday-- I don't get it either). It was easily the most well-recieved and invigorating gig we've done in a long time. It was also, with the possible exception of the summer camp gig, the single most surreal performing experience we've ever had.
The first indication that this wasn't going to be the average Parker gig came on Sunday, in a voicemail Andy left while my mom was on the phone:
"Hey, listen. Buzz on the street is that they announced at morning gathering that we're performing, and the announcement got a standing ovation. So we should, uh, practice for this one."
So we got together Monday night for a condensed version of the standard Demons session, with all the trimmings: Frozen pizza, Smartfood, root beer, not knowing where Stacey is until he shows up at midnight, outdated computer games, heapin' helpings of Space Ghost and MST3K, Christmas tree shopping, and, from about one to four AM, frantic jam sessions in order to have some sort of act ready for our gig in about 12 hours. It was the first true-blue Demons ritual in well over a year, and I had forgotten just how much fun we have. Sometime, we've gotta go back and do it up right: set aside three days or so, lay down some tracks, and maybe leave our cars in a ditch somewhere, to ensure that good ol' high school strain of inspiration through boredom.
But I digress from my main point, which is the Cafe Wednesday experience. Immediately upon our arrival, we were hailed by Gabe, Aaron, Fletcher, the Schmendrick clan, and all the other CW regulars who were loitering in the lobby-- Rocked to see all of them again. As we walked down the hall, we were stopped by a younger girl who we didn't recognize:
"Hey-- Are you the Demons of Stupidity?"
"Uhh... Yes. Yes, we are."
"You graduated two years ago, right?"
"Yeah."
"Awesome! I am so excited to see your act! I've heard so much about you!"
This sentiment was continued in the programs: our listing was upgraded from "Music/Comedy" to "Cult Favorites," and the letter from the MCs read in part (I'm paraphrasing here, as I left my copy in Andy's guitar case), "...We are especially excited to welcome back our returning alumni. Things sure have changed since their first Cafe Wednesday!" It should be noted thst the only other returning alumnus was Demonic compatriot Greg Colby, who rocked the house with a cool new "rugged folk singer" look.
And Greg's not the only one who rocked-- It was a remarkably solid Cafe Wednesday. This might just be the nostalgia talking, but I can't think of a single less-than-damn-good act. I had forgotten just how much of a hipster school Parker is, and in the good way. The very first act was a sword dance, fercryinoutloud! How do you not love that?
After everyone else had gone, it was our turn. Again, it might just be because it's been so long, but the applause-- both before and after the performance-- was amazing. (Incidentally, the emphasis on that aside should be placed on "after"; more than once we've gone on to cheers, only to lose the audience through incompetence, excessive length, or appalling tastelessness). And not just by Cafe Wednesday standards, either-- If I had had the good sense to record it, I'd have no qualms putting it on an album.
This may be partly due to the fact that we had our first set of all-new material since... Christ, I don't even remember the last time we didn't just pad one new bit with either a rehash of old material or a cover of a comedy standard (or just do an all-padding set). For the benefit of those of you who weren't there, we started out by having me come onstage with a guitar, announcing that I had learned a new instrument, and launching into a straight-faced cover of "Close to You" by the Carpenters... until the instrumental break, when I put the guitar down (without strumming a note) and proceeded to wank an insane solo on my brand new theremin! (True to form, we got the theremin the night before the show and immediately changed our entire act to accomodate it). After that, we debuted "Generic Rehash," a new version of "Generic Rock Song" where we basically gloat about how we're too lazy to write new material, and how the audience is a bunch of suckers. Somehow, this still didn't turn them against us, and we got a standing ovation anyway.
Lest this become total self-congratulatory back-pattery, I should note that there was still a healthy percentage of the audience who didn't get it; my mom later reported that the kids sitting next to her stayed stone-faced through the whole performance, and I scoped out a few more even as I was busy licking the theremin antenna. These sorts of people used to bother me, but now I've come to expect, and even love them; when you're going for weirdness, a little polarization is a good thing. To my knowledge, there was nothing as spectacular as all the dog people leaving in a huff as we sang "Dead Puppies" on Townsend Common, but it's the same necessary faction.
After we wrapped up, we got the usual parade of well-wishers, only more voluminous and vehement than usual (pardon my alliteration). What kills me is that a good number of people thanked us for performing; really, we should be thanking them for giving us someplace-- anyplace-- to play. Andy tells me that one kid came up to him and compared us to the Velvet Underground. I suppose that would make me John Cale. I can live with that.
The more I think about that, though, the more I think that's sorta accurate. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we're anywhere close to the Velvets' level--they had, you know, talent, whereas we're essentially a bunch of goofy slackers singing off-key one-liners over simple chord progressions. I like to think, though, that in our microscopic way, we've got a similar cultural standing: when the Velvets were around, they were just fringe weirdos, but long after they disbanded, more and more musicians and fans put them on a pedestal. That's sort of what's happened to us in the Parker microcosm-- in our absence, we seem to have become legends. All I can really say to that is a heartfelt, octave-higher "Thanks, man," to Parker as a whole. You guys still rock.
And hey, we're Cult Favorites now! Kool-Aid, anyone?
--Oscar Goff, 12/22/04