I dropped by the Browne’s Addiction punk group house in Spokane to deliver some typed out record reviews to Melinda, who lived upstairs and published Spokane Sado with her cats. I’d gotten some killer promo records from the Rats and the Avengers, and she seemed both happy to receive them but wondered who the fuck I was. Just a zine punk making the rounds. I appeared cowpunk though, with a weird Tom Waits soundtrack record tucked under my sleeveless military shirt, and One From The Heart they let me put on the turntable in the living room. Neither the music nor I made any sense, but when Malia also played the Art Bears and Steve played the Live at the Witch Trials on the shared stereo, I knew they were punks like me. I then went into Cory’s bedroom to work on a zine but the speed and codeine I was on didn’t let me accomplish much. I gave Cory some food stamps to get the house beer, and Scott Campbell came out from his kitchen cabinet hovel and gave us an eloquent explanation about socialism. He also explained my love for Waits to his housemates, who was a bit before their time. Later he and I would be hanging out on The Ave in Seattle and kids who came up asking if we were attending the 7 Seconds show that night, explained we were probably going back to Martha’s apartment with a half rack to listen to Waits, Kill ‘Em All, and Joy Division. It was autumn. We loved music about The Fall.
Tom Waits – “Broken Bicycles,” by Chris Estey
