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******* You're reading an old entry from Michelle "Lexi Kahn" DiPoala's online diary, formerly called Jungle Sweet Jungle. Blog name changed to Low Budget Superhero in October 2005. Now I mostly go by SuperLowBudge. You can call me Lexi, Michelle or SuperLowBudge, or if you're my mom, then Shelly. Enjoy these old posts (except if you're my mom.) Please follow on Blogger at superlowbudge.blogspot.com. From there you can follow me on Twitter and some other platforms. Thanks!
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Rumble in the Jungle (May 09, 2002) It's the downtime between bands that rarely gets written about or even really remembered, the smoky, beery particulars of which get distilled into the familiar murk that is an underground rock "scene." "IS there a scene?" mused Ad when we met for drinks at The Druid a few months ago. Though this conversational nugget didn't make it into the interview, we talked about what "a scene" is, and all the things it isn't. "When I'm part of it, it feels like a scene. When I'm not, there's implied exclusion..." The scene can be the WBCN Rumble, looking around during The Gentlemen's set and recognizing almost every flushed and happy face. It can be meeting someone totally new and not realizing that within a year you'd get his back in a heartbeat. It can be just two of you in a dark corner trying to hear a mouth-to-ear conversation, with your nose almost brushing a faded leather shoulder while he yells details about his latest hashmark on the indie rock headboard. "We're finally happy with our bass player." "I am so happy she agreed to sing on my record." "We got played on WAAF last night." "Did you hear..." "Do you know..." "Can you come..." "Will you listen..." It's in the downtime between bands when drinks are bought, alliances formed, friendships rekindled, liasons suggested, motives unveiled. Empty plastic cups roll against our feet and get crushed under Doc Martens, Skechers, Converse All-Stars. Lighters get whipped out and decimate Kools and Parliaments and Marlboro Lights. Dripping wet guys huff past hauling amps, gig bags, cables, and you buy a friend a Pabst Blue Ribbon. "The BMAs, that was some night!" says Kier, breaking into the easy good old boy grin that charms the capris off the BU girls. "Yep, it was," I agree. "I can't believe you didn't write about me in your diary!" "You mean about your ear-nibbling demonstration? I thought you were just proving a point. Hey...is that what that was? A ploy to get written up in The Jungle?" "NO, don't write that!" Heh heh. It's the downtime between bands.
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