Call Me E.

Call Me E.
all stories and essays by Sean Rein

Blaspheme on Block E.

I'll get to the heinous act of absolute uncoolness in a minute. I need to start out by letting all of you kiddies out there know that I am somewhat of a music fan. I like live music, but I don't need to rush out and buy concert tickets for any and every dinosaur that come through town. And who can afford it? I think Paul McCartney tickets are $200 or more. Who wants to spend that kind of money on a hack! Everybody knows that Ringo was the one with all the talent in that band.

Besides, big stadium shows are terrible. Sixty dollars to sit so far away from the talent that you don't know whether you are watching The Who or a really loud drag show. Who needs it? Give me a good band in a small venue and I'm there.

This leads me to the crux of the biscuit. One of the greatest music venues in the world is First Avenue in Minneapolis. Some of you reading this may argue that Shank Hall in Milwaukee or Keswick Theatre in Philadelphia are better. Well, forget you! The greatest band of all, The Time, made First Avenue the greatest music scene when they graced that little pipsqueak Prince in his little movie, Purple Rain.

Here is a short list of kickass shows that I have seen at the Ave.: Sugar (3 times), Parliament, Meat Beat Manifesto, The Butthole Surfers, Peter Murphy (Nine Inch Nails was the opening act), Public Image Ltd., The The. And the list goes on.

The best part about First Avenue isn't the talent they bring into the place, but rather the intimacy. You are never more than 100 feet from the talent, even when you go into the crapper. You get to see that it is Gibby Haynes on stage and not a little dot, 300 yards away, shooting his shotgun into the air.

Have I made my point? This is music to me. Small clubs featuring bands that corporate America can't get their hands on. It's so much better than all of the crap that gets shoved down our throats by "pop" radio and what the AMI Records executives want you to hear and consume.

Directly across the street from First Avenue is an urban renewal project called Block E. It used to be a collection of parking lots but now it is getting built up, and the most horrific thing has happened. The brain trust in charge of the project put a Hard Rock Café in with the big guitar pointing at the greatest little club in all of creation. Now, instead of seeing a good band at a good price, you can go across the street and pay $7 for a Miller Lite and $11 for a shitty hamburger while you gawk at memorabilia from all of your idols of 60s and 70s rock whose only talents were substance abuse and contracting all known venereal diseases.

Corporate America wins again.

Of Interest:
Historic Hennepin Avenue: The Black and White Period
Hennepin History Museum
First Avenue
Hard Rock Cafe, Minneapolis (for the sake of equal time)