detroit nickel bag
Sometimes the good shit rolls right on by. Streaming ticker tape and all manner of sweet things stashed in the glove compartment.
You don\’t catch up with it until much later. When it\’s burned out. Jacked up on bricks in a vacant lot; nose down in a ditch with its hood popped open and the tire iron buried deep in the skull of an insurance agent four and one quarter miles from the scene.
That\’s pretty much how it was with me and The Gories. A three piece first operating out of Detroit back in \’86. Two dapper dudes and a chick on drums. Then the record got set straight, see. For The Sake of the Song. The scales fell from my eyes; my ears got hip.
I could see from just a single glance in the bathroom mirror that close to two decades had slipped on by. The skinny kid got replaced. Some time between the champagne reception and the divorce. The cutting of all that fucking tiered cake. Too busy with the repayments and his girfriend counting calories.
What a shitty deal. The King of bum raps.
Still. I console myself that I still have all my teeth. Right there in the beer glass; warmed up in the window.
▼ THE GORIES: CHARM BAG from \”House Rockin\’\” LP (New Rose) 1989 (US)