Top 10 Shows I Promoted - Part One

1989 - 2010

I don’t know the exact number of events that I’ve put on. The first one was June 1989 and the last one was Fall 2010. In between, I’m estimating over 1000 shows within twenty years in Memphis, a few in Little Rock, and a few in Mississippi in rooms no larger than 1200 seats.

98% of these shows were music but I did a lot of different things. Film festivals and screenings, art shows, wrestling with big and little people, comedy, and burlesque were all events I had in my venues. A few of the artists I worked with back in the day have become arena performing, world travelling rock stars.

One of the concerts I promoted in the mid-2000s was Damo Suzuki of the band Can, who passed away recently. He was backed up by the band Cul De Sac, a band that I’m a fan of, and one that I had booked years before at my old club, Barristers. They stayed with me at my parents house back then.

As I glumly discovered Damo’s passing, I started to recall that show I did at the Hi Tone Cafe with Dan Holloway and remembered that it was on my top ten list of shows that I’ve ever put on. Then I remembered that I had a list. Then I thought maybe now’s the time to put that list into the world.

However…

Turns out I need two lists. The shows on the original list I’ve had all these years were all profitable or cost neutral. That was a stipulation. If I remove this stipulation, there are easily another ten shows that are definitely worth mentioning either because of phenomenal performances or historical significance.

Sometimes you get both simultaneously. When that happens, the financial loss, while painful in the moment, means nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel when you know that you made music history and some people very happy with life lasting memories. No one can take that away from you or them.

For this post, we’re going to cover my original top ten listed in chronological order:

Thrash-A-Thon - June 1989

For obvious personal reasons, this show is the most important one to me.

Click the above link to read about the first show I ever put on.

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Faith No More - Thur. Mar. 29, 1990 - Six One Six

Poster by Howard “Buddy” Gray

I have to give the lion’s share of the credit to my friends, Anneliese Jones, Cort Williams, Christian Williams, and Buddy Gray. If there were more, I don’t remember. They actually turned me on to Faith No More. They were fans before The Real Thing came out in June 1989. They were doing shows too, under the name “Blazing Tor”. You can see the logo in the bottom right corner (I was Underrated Productions). They co-promoted the legendary Danzig solo show at the Antenna (in early 1989, I believe?).

I had already booked a couple regional bands at this point and the guarantee was steep for them, so they asked if I wanted to co-promote the show (split the risk). They played The Real Thing for me and I became a fan pretty quick. We needed an opener and my band was available for free. I also remember WHBQ 56AM started playing actual alternative music weeknights before that was what it was called after 9 PM? 10 PM? Can’t remember. They were playing Faith No More’s Epic before it ever blew up. Voivod’s Nothingface too.

Memory nuggets:

• I remember asking Mike Patton if he’d like to use my wireless mic. He politely declined fearing he might damage it. I was hoping to see an unleashed Patton go all over the venue, but alas.

• I don’t know the cause but there were sound system issues for at least a song or two of Faith No More. Like stop the show issues.

• Our bass player mentioned Jim Martin’s t-shirt, which was a Cliff Burton memorial shirt, and how cool he thought that was and asked where he got it. “Cliff’s mom gave it to me.”

• The show did well. The song Epic blew up right afterwards. WHBQ 56 helped promote it and that made a big difference. I did not make the deal with the venue, but all I knew is we were going to cover expenses, which is all I cared about. I remember there even being a little bit of money at the end.

• Pretty sure that money got spent at a Pat’s Pizza victory party, one of the coolest, weirdest joints in the history of Memphis hang-outs. If you click that link, the first people you see are Anneliese and Christian. If my first show got my rock show habit started, this show got me addicted for life.

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GG Allin - Nov. 16, 1991 - Antenna

Flyer by Danny Murphy

This is, by far, the show that I’m most known for. It’s an odd feeling, being proud and ashamed of the same act. Proud because the Memphis GG Allin show will live in infamy long after I’m gone. I left a mark. Maybe scar is a better word. Heck, Drive By Truckers wrote a song about this show. Ashamed because I’m old and responsible now. I put people’s lives in danger and that is not an exaggeration. I think about all the things that could’ve gone wrong and that’s when the shame wakes up and starts making breakfast in my kitchen.

The weekly Antenna ad from The Commercial Appeal’s weekend insert “Playbook”.

I have a version of that day’s events that I’m saving for another time. For those of you who aren’t familiar with GG Allin or what happened that night at the Antenna, I’ll let you read the article I cut out of The Memphis Flyer over 30 years ago:

First of all, “Sleaze”? When I think of sleaze, I think of human vice. Sex, drugs, money, etc. I don’t think anyone in attendance would’ve used that word to describe what they saw. As far as an accurate account of what transpired that night, though, the above article nailed it. Not necessarily in order, but every outrageous thing mentioned happened.

Now, I’d like to refer to an eyewitness account originally printed in The Memphis Flyer in 2016 from long time friend, Andria Lisle:

The worst gig I ever attended was one I knew would be awful going in. I expected, and got, the worst on November 16, 1991, when I walked through the doors of Antenna to see G.G. Allin and the Murder Junkies. It was the pre-internet age, so what I knew of G.G. Allin was gleaned from the pages of MAXIMUM ROCKNROLL and via first-hand stories from friends who had caught Allin on the road in other cities. Self-billed as “the last true rock and roller,” Allin would take Ex-Lax before his gig, then defecate on stage. When the Memphis stop on his fall 1991 tour was announced, I should’ve wondered “Who on Earth would want to attend something like this?” Instead, I thought, “Who would want to miss it?”

I paid my $5 and cautiously took a post in the back of the room, close enough to the door that I could escape if necessary. I can’t remember who opened or what songs were on the Murder Junkies’ setlist. Allin wore a black hoodie, his pale ass gleaming under the lights. He paced the stage, drinking beers and throwing the bottles into the audience. He had the frightening intensity of Charles Manson — I recall being too afraid to meet his gaze. At some point, the microphone he ranted into went up his ass. Later, Allin leapt off the stage and began antagonizing the audience at close range. Most of us ran out of the door of the club.

He’d chase us outside, then stop at the corner of Madison and Avalon while we raced to the relative safety of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. For some reason, that happened more than once. I have no idea why I didn’t just leave at that point, but I kept going back in for more. Finally, Allin chased us out again, and one audience member ran to Murphy’s and came back with a knife. She began chasing G.G., and that was too much for me. I went home, took a long shower, and questioned every decision I’d made in life.

Andria seems to wrestle with the same conundrum I do. Why did I promote and participate in this spectacle? Why was it so exciting? What’s wrong with me? I know if I went in my kitchen and let it marinate, I could figure out what’s the appeal. At least for me. I’m sure it’s a basic thrill seeking desire.

Some people like to defy death by hurtling down the road at triple digit speeds, some people like to throw themselves out of planes and hope their parachute works and I guess I used to be one of those people who defies death by hiring a lunatic to chase my peers and myself around a punk rock bar while said lunatic is wearing his own poop.

I booked a few “dangerous” acts in the years that followed. Crash Worship set fire in the middle of Barristers. AxCx’s Seth Putnam threw hands with an audience member at the Map Room. Jay Reatard urinated in his own mouth whilst sitting behind the drums in front of about 20 people (two of which were J. Mascis and Mike Watt, who’d just come over from a Dinosaur Jr. show at the New Daisy. Jay had no idea they were there), but absolutely nothing could compare to the electricity and tension that was in the air right before and when GG took the stage.

Would I do it again? Gosh, no.

Am I glad I did? Unfortunately, I am.

(Humorous byproduct of researching this: We need to support this poorly named young lady)

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Part 2 next week…