kenyon

random memory (typed through the haze of a 9.2 migraine):

the closest i ever got to seeing guns n roses circa 1988-style was at this awesome club called THE STATION. it was a gn'r cover band called get your guns.

(now let me just say that the station is the same club where, later, a washed up great white's pyrotechnics, combined with the club's lack of fireproofing, caused the entire building to burn in like three minutes flat, tragically killing a lot of people. my boyfriend's brother was supposed to be there, but he'd had a rough day at work and ended up sleeping through it.)

back to the blissful ignorance of get your guns. i'm sitting there with my boy, wondering if i should get up and shoot some pool before the show, when i notice this guy with dark curly hair checking me out. but not checking me out in a hey sexy kind of way, because even though i'd gotten there early in true groupie fashion, like an idiot i'd decided to just frump it and not get all vamped. once i was there i wished i'd totally done it up right, but it was too late, i swear i was wearing dirty tennis shoes and a sweatshirt and glasses with hair all in my face. and pants. so this guy is checking me out cuz i look like a scruffy runaway, though maybe that's his thing, who knows.

so later, they take the stage, and the singer is awesome, he has a totally good voice and has mastered all the creepy axl dances, etc. i'm so happy. it's like seeing them live at the ritz back in the day. it's so close. then i realize that the singer is that same guy who'd been checking me out, with his curls stuffed into a long straight strawberry blonde wig and the patented bandanna headband. axl was checking me out! i tell my boy, and he acts vaguely happy for me.

then, to make things even weirder, out of nowhere they bust into a couple of SKID ROW covers. like, what the fuck, and they're still totally dressed as gn'r. and the crowd just seamlessly continues eating it up, singing along to "18 and life"

tequila in his heartbeat
his veins burned gasoline
it kept his motor runnin
but it never kept him clean

needless to say, i was outraged. but then, the whole thing was a cheap trick anyway, a fast one, so why shouldn't they throw this in for good measure? because cheezy homage should be pure, that's why. so whatever, then they played some obscure numbers from use your illusion, obviously nothing i didn't know, and the show was over way too soon.

it was under a year later that the place burned down. RIP to everyone who died in the fire.

if get your guns comes to a shitty little hick town near you where metal lives on, go see them. if you're a chick and you dress slutty and stand near the front, they'll pull you onstage during the last song as one of their many gimmicks. it should've been me, goddammit. what an odd, watered-down fantasy, to cream for a cover band. sometimes though, kids, the sun is just too bright to stare at. but you can study one of its moons, which reflects that same light, and sigh.