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Can you go home again?
by David 'ZZYZX' Steinberg - zzyzx@ihoz.com
All photos taken by David Steinberg. If you want to use one, ask
"You were worried for my brain
Was I sure I was still sane?
I was doing it all wrongThat man you wanted me to see
A place I thought I'd never be
But never is so long. "- a lyric I wrote while living in Las CrucesAs I mentioned briefly in last month's column, due mainly to the fact that the application fee was $10, I ended up attending New Mexico State University in sunny Las Cruces, New Mexico in 1992. When I applied there, I figured it would be a good move. New Mexico, based on an earlier trip to Albuquerque and Santa Fe, was a pretty hip place to be after all.
Las Cruces (Spanish for "The Crosses") got its name from a landmark for travelers across the desert, looking for a place to cross the Rio Grande. There were some marked graves just north of where the city was laid out. The city was first referred to as El Pueblo del Jardin de Las Cruces (City of the Garden of Crosses), and then simply Las Cruces. As a service to the readers of Jambands, I will give out a Some Are Mathematicians Life Hint[1]:
When looking for a place to move to, shy away from towns named after DEATH.
Alas, I had not yet learned that lesson, and therefore thought that Las Cruces would be a wonderful place to hang my hat. It took about three months for me to change my mind. While I was out of town doing Phish's 92 NYE run, the treasurer of NMSU's gay and lesbian association went to get some food at a Village Inn. A man walked into the restaurant wearing a t-shirt that said, "AIDS kills fags dead." The back of the shirt read "Anally Inflicted Death Syndrome." The treasurer, in an act that will forever make him one of my heroes, blew t-shirt boy a kiss. Alas, this act - like too many heroic actions - resulted in him getting beaten up.
A gay bashing by itself wouldn't stun me. However, an act of sheer cruelty, of exacting physical punishment on someone for having different sexual tastes (an act roughly equivalent to attacking someone because they prefer Rum Raisin ice cream to the clearly superior Vanilla Avalanche) demands an appropriate response from the community. Soul searching should happen. People should wonder how they possibly could have bred such insanity in their community. Instead we got people writing letters to the Las Cruces Sun News and the NMSU Roundup wondering where they could get those t-shirts. One memorable letter concluded "Three Cheers for the Gay Bashers."
While that was the defining moment of my Las Cruces time, it was not the only run-in I would have with forces that I did not understand there. I remember the family that complained about the religious play being put on in the public schools, and how they were eventually forced to change their phone number to an unlisted one. I remember the posts in the Las Cruces Sun News. "The Mesilla Valley belongs to Christ," one began, before concluding that all non-Christians should be driven out. I remember talking to a coworker, in her late teens, who was going on and on about how excited she was to marry a man, a man who was already becoming abusive to her, so there would finally be a day where she would feel special. She thought I was the weird one.
While there were people that I could get along with, they were few and far between. Since I was a grad student, I rarely had time to search out the kindred spirits. I stumbled across a couple - emilie in 92, Lisa - a rare Las Cruces Deadhead - in 94, but they weren't exactly plentiful. Moreover, whenever I met someone I liked, they would move away in a semester or so and I would completely lose track of them. I spent most of the three years living in complete isolation, suffering from insomnia (My sleepless nights led me to fully appreciate afternoon naps. "The siesta was the most important innovation of Mexican culture," I declared at one point. Ellen [2] would be amused.), and slowly cracking up. I would sit in my house,
watching the Weather Channel, listening to the Indigo Girls sing "Give me hope/Give me hope," and pretending to be a graduate student. To this day, I wonder how I survived those years, let alone received a Masters degree.This isn't to say that no good at all came from living in Las Cruces. While actual honest to goodness local concerts - as opposed to the Dallas and Red Rocks shows that I called local - were rare, there were a lot of concerts that were a mere 10-12 hours away. My hatred of the town and my need to get away as much as possible led to me seeing more music and, because I would extend my non-Las Cruces time as much as humanly possible, I had many insane road trip adventures getting to and from the shows.
My Phish Stats bear that out; here is my year by year breakdown for concerts seen between 1991 and 1995:
1991- 14
1992- 17
1993- 24
1994- 32
1995- 8
When you throw in that I did the entire Grateful Dead 1993 Summer Tour (minus the Giants Stadium shows), the one advantage to the two years I spent entirely in Las Cruces becomes pretty obvious. I wonder if real estate agents have ever considered that line to use for live music fans. "You'll hate this town so much that you'll end up going on tour much more frequently.""Went out driving late last night
Just to go and get a bite
But I'm driving through the day
Head north on I-25
The road helps me to stay alive
Or least to get away "-a lyric I wrote while living in Las CrucesTo make a long story short, or at least not any longer, while seeing those 32 shows in 1994, I was performing a town audition. I knew that my ability to handle Las Cruces was running low. During the summer I went up the California coast and then up to Vancouver, back down to San Francisco, over to the midwest, and then finally the east coast. During that trip, one city did stand out, and a year later I found myself in Seattle. Life quickly improved. Despite the occasional flashback - I still find Nomads, Indians Saints an extremely hard album to listen to - the intensity began to fade. When depression is there, it can take over your life. Once it's gone, it's hard to remember what exactly the big deal was. I started to forget that those years ever happened... until Phish announced their Fall Tour schedule. There it was in black and white. September 22nd, 1999, Pan American Center, Las Cruces, NM. How could I not go?
Fall Tour '99 started off with a bang. Vancouver had that scary "Stash" and perhaps the best "Tweezer" I have ever heard. Portland possessed an amazing first set. I found myself adding shows. Once Boise blew me away, I knew that there was no way that I was missing the Tucson show. I quickly found a cheap flight that landed in Phoenix at 5:10 PM. Making it to the show was going to be a challenge, but I didn't know how much of a challenge it would be.
The day before leaving for Phoenix, I made a call to Alamo to rent a car. They were completely out of cars. I then tried Hertz. No cars either. Avis was out. Not only was Tucson seeming unlikely, but I didn't even know if I would be able to make it to Las Cruces. I called Budget. They did have cars, kind of. They had SUV's, $100 a day and a 200 mile total limit. Two hundred miles wouldn't even get me to New Mexico. I called Dollar. They had cars. Lots of them, at reasonable rates. After reserving my car, I asked to be connected to a supervisor.
"May I help you?"
"The person I talked to? He rocks! Your whole company rocks! You rock! Do you have a cat?"
"I have a dog."
"Well your dog rocks!"
If Alamo had cars, I wouldn't even remember that I had rented a car. However the first few failures, and the fear that that created, made this more than just a normal transaction over an automobile. It was a quest. I was running around the apartment, going "WHOOO-HOOOO!" and screaming... because I had successfully rented a car. Obstacles are not always a bad thing.
Speaking of obstacles, upon leaving Sky Harbor Airport in my shiny new rental, I was promptly stuck in a traffic jam. There I was, 100+ miles from the venue, in traffic, with about 2 hours before the lights went out. The traffic cleared up, and then I saw the sign that would be my savior. "Speed Limit 75." That was new since I had left Las Cruces. Driving between 80 and 85, I got to the venue at 7:45. I ran to will call, was told that they were going on stage at 7:30 sharp, ran to the venue, and heard canned music. I don't know why I believed that they would start on time, but I did. I had enough time to get some water and check out the Thai stand at the back of the venue before they hit stage.
While the venue was not as small as Boise or Las Cruces, I found plenty of room on the right side of the stage. I then looked up and remembered why I love the desert. There is something mysterious about the desert. Maybe it's the constant wind and clear skies. Maybe it's fact that you can drive 50 miles on a major Interstate and not pass through a town. Maybe it's the feeling that one misstep can lead to your death. I don't know if I will ever know what it is exactly - and the mystery might be lost if I ever do - but I was reminded of that night on the side of Interstate 8 outside of Casa Grande where I "never ever saw the stars so bright" and woke to the sight of
a forest of Saguaro cacti. With the wind whipping through the crowd, and the clouds floating across the sky, the show took on extra import. I didn't watch the band all night; I watched the night sky.I don't think I was alone in being affected. Phish played to the desert that night, the jams being subtlety altered by the environment in which they were playing. The encore also was much longer than usual. After the surprise choice of "Reba" to encore (the song had never been played as an encore before), no one was expecting a second song. However not only did they play "Bold As Love", but they extended the ending. Not even they wanted the night to end.
Phish did warn me that night about the folly of what I was attempting. In the middle of the first set, "Get Back on the Train" was played.
Now I'm gone and I'll never look back again.
I'm gone and I'll never look back at all.
You know I'll never look back again,
I turn my face into the howling wind.
Took me a long time to get back on the train.I decided to not heed the warning and
pressed on into New Mexico. I passed Deming, filming locale of "Gas Food Lodging", home of the duck races. Exits began causing nostalgia. US 70, Motel Blvd (I think it's the law that every town in NM has to have a Motel Blvd), Main Street. I got off there and began to explore.If you ever want to mess with your mind, live in a small town for three years and then come back after being gone for four years. Every intersection, every building, brings back memories that you didn't even know that you had. It's been so long since I've been there, that it feels like that time happened to another person. Returning felt like someone else's strong memories were being layered on top of mine. Intellectually, I knew that the strong flashbacks were mine, but the person I am now is so different from who I was in 1992, that I spent the whole day in a state of mild confusion.
After driving around, seeing
the sites, I headed to the Pan Am. Doors opened, and I checked out the Waterwheel table, figuring if I was in Las Cruces I should support the charity.
For those who haven't seen Phish, the Waterwheel Foundation is Phish's way of giving back to the communities in which they play. Every night, they raffle off some backstage passes and sell some merchandise in order to give the proceeds to a local charity. In Las Cruces it was a rape hotline. Let's see, rape hotline.... in Las Cruces... affiliated with an organization that emilie worked for. I gave a large donation. Instead of merchandise, I just asked for a bunch of raffle tickets.
So I'm wandering the floor - the venue was half the size of Boise - wearing my lizard costume, when I hear a "David Steinberg?" I turn around. It was Lisa! Lisa from Las Cruces in 94! Lisa who I hadn't seen in 5 years!
First set passed, and other than the "2001" opener and the "Bathtub Gin" (Can they play a bad version of this song?) nothing too amazing was played.... well except for the "Free Thought"... and the "Sand"... OK it was about a half amazing set. The break came and went, and the first 40 minutes of the second set were pretty good. Not up to Boise standards, or even the standards of this incredible tour, but pretty damn good. Then it happened.
I was so busy pushing for "Alumni Blues", most likely because it's the only song that's been played frequently (50 times in Phish's career) that I've never seen, that I forgot about the other song I had asked for. From the first time I had heard it in Portland, I called "Brian and Robert" my Las Cruces song. The opening chords started and I completely freaked
If you're just staring at your walls
Observing echoing footfalls
From tenants wandering distant halls
Then this one is for you.
The second verse was somewhat drowned out by the cheering of the rowdy, albeit small, crowd but that's my least favorite of the verses. The third verse was clear though
All alone in life you lead
A silent diner where you feed
You bow your head, pretend to read
This one is for you.You slip past strangers in the street
There's no one that you care to meet
Longing for your tv seat
Then this one is for you
If you're just staring at your walls
This one is for you ...As far as I'm concerned, this is the all time great version of "Brian and Robert". I don't care how it sounds on tape, "Brian and Robert" was played in Las Cruces. I don't know if anything played that night could have been more powerful to me.
The show wasn't over though. "Mike's Song" was next. If there's a heaven, Phish play every day (the Dead show is at night), and "Mike's Song" is in heavy rotation. This is the song that keeps me coming back to see them. Ok so I lost pretty much the whole song.... and most of "Simple".... and most of "Train Song"... still reflecting on the B&R, but by the time the set closed with the "Weekapaug" (my 50th version), I was back.
That was the message of the show. Yes you're in Las Cruces, but there's Lisa behind you. To your right is Kristen (friend from Summer Tour 94). Over to your left is Emika (a current friend from Seattle). "Brian and Robert" might have been Las Cruces, but perhaps the joy of "Weekapaug" is more appropriate for 1999. That was then, this is now.
After the encore ("LaGrange", the only real "You Snooze You Lose" moment despite this venue being half the size of Boise), I grabbed my deck and rushed to the Waterwheel table to see if I won. I hear behind me, "David Steinberg?" It was Alisha.
Flashback: Summer of 1992. I was doing the I-64 minitour (Norfolk, Charlottesville, Richmond). There were four people doing the tour and we all hung out in a rest stop before Richmond. Shawn and Alisha lived in Las Vegas, I lived in Baltimore, and Jake was in Chicago. Two months later, I was in Cruces, S&A were in Albuquerque, and Jake was in Santa Fe. Alisha and I ended up doing a lot of spring tour 93 together in my old Geo Metro. I saw Shawn and Alisha on their honeymoon (they did the new years run) and at the first Gorge shows. They had since gotten divorced and Lish had given up on seeing shows. However, "I'm not going to blow off a show in my state!" Two people I know in the entire state of New Mexico and I ran into both.
I didn't win the raffle, so I went outside and watched them clear the lot. Typical Las Cruces. Send 50 cops and threaten towing their vehicles to get rid of maybe 1000 peaceful people. It didn't matter though. I don't know if the "Brian and Robert" was actually a release, but it was intense. This wasn't the all time great Fall '99 show but for me, it was one of the most important musical moments ever.
The next day I had to drive back to Arizona to catch my plane back. On my way out of town, I popped in a tape by Jen Exten. In my last semester at NMSU, Tuesday (another math grad student) and I discovered this folk singer that occasionally would play in Cruces. Rolling west on I-10, I rewound to her version of Maria McKee's "Panic Beach."
I floated back across Arizona, up to Phoenix. I would be in Seattle by nightfall."I can see the palace
No longer out of reach
So I'll do my time
Then say goodbye to Panic Beach"
[1] One in a series; collect the whole set!
[2] Ellen Buckley, the mysterious "friend" that has been mentioned in the last few columns, is a huge fan of sleep. Personally I think sleep in general is a huge waste of time, so I mock her a lot for that.
David Steinberg got his Masters Degree in mathematics from New Mexico State University in 1994. He first discovered the power of live music at the Capitol Centre in 1988 and never has been the same. His Phish stats website is at www.ihoz.com/PhishStats.html
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