All the Way to Boylan Heights
As summer approaches (it takes it's time to reach Maine), I always recall seeing The Connells at The Boathouse in Norfolk, VA in the summer of 1992. Summers in Tidewater Virginia can be downright hellish. Cruising down I-64 through Hampton and diving into the cavernous mouth that sucks you down below the James River, you emerge to see Norfolk rise in steam and ripples in front of you like the city of Dis on the river Styx. For those who never have been to The Boathouse, it was/is (I haven't been there since '94, so I will use past tense) a relatively good sized (2500?) venue with mediocre sound and some pretty atrocious sight lines (I mean, it was a big rectangle, ceilings about 15' high, supporting polls throughout, with a six foot high stage in the middle of the venue, along one of the long sides), and I went there as often as I could. Well, back to the story at hand.
I went with my friend Jon to see The Connells. It was a benefit show, with anyone who brought a canned good getting in for 99¢. John and I set out on a typically hot (98º or so) Williamsburg evening to see the show. We popped in Check Your Head to accompany us (I remember this clearly because John could do a perfect imitation of the voice the Beasties used for "Well I think it's booty - Boot/boot/boot/booty, that's what it is"). When we emerged from the tunnel it was at least ten degrees hotter. Miserable. We reached The Boathouse, and could feel the heat of the place blasting us as we approached the door. The ticket guys thanked us for the canned goods, we paid our two bucks and got the warning that it "was hot in there." Thanks. If you happen across this, thanks again. Really. As I have been around blast furnaces that were cooler than the air blowing out of the place, thanks for the warning.
Jon and I went quickly through and ducked out a side door - along with 35 sixteen year old girls and their dates. We didn't quite fit the shows demographics - Jon was 22 looking like 35, I was 19 and had just shaved off my 14" mohawk, leaving only a long blonde braid off the back of my bald head. At least we were both wearing sandals. Regardless, we struggled to hold our place on the edge of the inferno. As showtime approached, we were sure that it would be canceled or postponed. We guessed it was at least 110º on the floor and had to be hotter under the stage lights. But right on time, The Connells took the stage. Jon and I maneuvered ourselves to a happy midpoint between the PA and an industrial airport hanger fan (you know those five foot metal fans from all the old movies? There had to be a dozen of them throughout the club). After the first song, the band looked done. Absolutely shot. There was some patter, along the lines of, "Sure is hot! Are you all hot?" The band started into a second song, then a third and fourth. The crowd was ignoring the heat, jumping up and down and singing along. People started to collapse from heat exhaustion, and The Connells stopped and called security to help.
I forgot to mention that the only water available was $3 a pop from the concession stands. The band called for water for the crowd, and the workers at the venue were hesitating. The band called again, and the crowd took up the call. Before long, bottled water started flying out to the crowd and they even set up a hose over to one side (well away from any equipment) to just hose people down. The Connells went back to playing, four or five in a row, with the crowd dancing and singing, soaking wet, half naked and passing out. The band called for everyone to pay attention, and pulled out a thermometer. Doug MacMillan held it up for the people in the front to see, and said, somewhat dumbfounded, "It's 128º on stage." (now, please don't quote me on this - I remember it as 128º, but it could have been 118º or 123º or something. My mind, ten years later, has settled on 128º, and I couldn't find anything to check it by on the net). As crowds of teenagers are want to to, they cheered and started dancing. The Connells started playing again, and didn't stop until they had been on stage over two hours. Looking back at it now, I remember Jon and I sharing a look of amazement as The Connells got better as the show went on, feeding off the heat and the crowd. The only song I can see clearly in my mind's eye is "Scotty's Lament," with Doug draped across the microphone stand, his legs literally shaking, sweat running off his bent elbows onto the stage and crowd.
I went back later that summer to see the Beastie Boys, with L7 and House of Pain (who cancelled, on account of their sucking too much to "Jump Around" live). The Beasties complained about the heat, and I laughed. I would swear there were Connells shirts for sale at the Beastie Boys show, with 128º on it in big letters.
I went with my friend Jon to see The Connells. It was a benefit show, with anyone who brought a canned good getting in for 99¢. John and I set out on a typically hot (98º or so) Williamsburg evening to see the show. We popped in Check Your Head to accompany us (I remember this clearly because John could do a perfect imitation of the voice the Beasties used for "Well I think it's booty - Boot/boot/boot/booty, that's what it is"). When we emerged from the tunnel it was at least ten degrees hotter. Miserable. We reached The Boathouse, and could feel the heat of the place blasting us as we approached the door. The ticket guys thanked us for the canned goods, we paid our two bucks and got the warning that it "was hot in there." Thanks. If you happen across this, thanks again. Really. As I have been around blast furnaces that were cooler than the air blowing out of the place, thanks for the warning.
Jon and I went quickly through and ducked out a side door - along with 35 sixteen year old girls and their dates. We didn't quite fit the shows demographics - Jon was 22 looking like 35, I was 19 and had just shaved off my 14" mohawk, leaving only a long blonde braid off the back of my bald head. At least we were both wearing sandals. Regardless, we struggled to hold our place on the edge of the inferno. As showtime approached, we were sure that it would be canceled or postponed. We guessed it was at least 110º on the floor and had to be hotter under the stage lights. But right on time, The Connells took the stage. Jon and I maneuvered ourselves to a happy midpoint between the PA and an industrial airport hanger fan (you know those five foot metal fans from all the old movies? There had to be a dozen of them throughout the club). After the first song, the band looked done. Absolutely shot. There was some patter, along the lines of, "Sure is hot! Are you all hot?" The band started into a second song, then a third and fourth. The crowd was ignoring the heat, jumping up and down and singing along. People started to collapse from heat exhaustion, and The Connells stopped and called security to help.
I forgot to mention that the only water available was $3 a pop from the concession stands. The band called for water for the crowd, and the workers at the venue were hesitating. The band called again, and the crowd took up the call. Before long, bottled water started flying out to the crowd and they even set up a hose over to one side (well away from any equipment) to just hose people down. The Connells went back to playing, four or five in a row, with the crowd dancing and singing, soaking wet, half naked and passing out. The band called for everyone to pay attention, and pulled out a thermometer. Doug MacMillan held it up for the people in the front to see, and said, somewhat dumbfounded, "It's 128º on stage." (now, please don't quote me on this - I remember it as 128º, but it could have been 118º or 123º or something. My mind, ten years later, has settled on 128º, and I couldn't find anything to check it by on the net). As crowds of teenagers are want to to, they cheered and started dancing. The Connells started playing again, and didn't stop until they had been on stage over two hours. Looking back at it now, I remember Jon and I sharing a look of amazement as The Connells got better as the show went on, feeding off the heat and the crowd. The only song I can see clearly in my mind's eye is "Scotty's Lament," with Doug draped across the microphone stand, his legs literally shaking, sweat running off his bent elbows onto the stage and crowd.
I went back later that summer to see the Beastie Boys, with L7 and House of Pain (who cancelled, on account of their sucking too much to "Jump Around" live). The Beasties complained about the heat, and I laughed. I would swear there were Connells shirts for sale at the Beastie Boys show, with 128º on it in big letters.
