So back in good old 1994 Jonny and I were rocking hard in a band called Deep Shag. My wife, oops, she was my girlfriend then, Belsum and I lived in the apartment upstairs from him and his wife. They had cable before we did, so I often went down there just to watch MTV, back when it was still fun to watch MTV. The State was one of the shows playing then. "I'm gonna dip my balls in it." Kurt Cobain suicide news was on the forefront and we felt we were in the midst of the next great rock revolution. Jon wrote songs in his closet. I wrote basslines in that closet with him. Every week or two we would climb into my 1966 Mercury Park Lane (awesomely wonderful car that) and drive into the suburbs to visit Doug Drealer, where we would buy marijuana. Those were good times.
We got high a lot. Sometimes after listening to too much Cypress Hill, we would try to deliver full on pot lyrics to the band. Thankfully Lisa wouldn't have it. One time I tried to drink myself sober with tequila. A feat I attained accidentally a few months prior. It didn't work again. We were watching Star Trek next generation, and I got so fucked up and delirious that I asked Belsum to stab me with a fork. "Goddamnit I'm a Klingon! Stab me!"
Anyway Deep Shag was starting to play a lot of gigs and everywhere we went there was this guy not dressed in the grunge kit you saw often then, nor in the mod outfits still popular in the day, but he wore salesman slacks, a button down white shirt and he had on a silky tie. We named him silky tie guy. He was one of those folks who instead of being in a band decided he wanted to manage bands, but was still young and inexperienced. He was actually sweet but we couldn't help making fun of him. One time Jon and I were in the main room bar singing, "No more silky tie guy, silky tie guy sucks" over and over. But the thing is silky tie guy and us were all just young stupid kids trying to make our way into the music biz.
The best story is when I received a phone message where some kid was trying to say he was from the "trademark commission". The call stated basically that Deep Shag was a copywrited name and that we needed to stop using it immediately. Stoners that we were Jon and I have never even seen a turnip truck. We saw the scam immediately. As it turned out there was a band billed as Deep Shag set to play the main room of First Avenue for some new band thing or something. We knew that we didn't book the show and we were curious. After we got the message we put two and two together. (actually Jon and I were freaking out and hiding behind the couch waiting for government thugs to come crashing in the windows at any time--pot) But Lisa took control and confronted the other Deep Shag. As it turns out she met one of them at a party and told him about her band, he was so drunk that he thought he thought of the name himself. Then when they realized there was another Deep Shag in town they decided to pretend they were the government. Does any of this make sense? Anyhow Lisa Made them change their name and she got us tickets to their show. Oh God. They were a bad cover band. The drummer was the singer. EWW! Yay Lisa Parker!