I Almost Felt Really Cool Last Night

My friend Scott called around 8pm last night and said there was an 80% chance that REM was going to play a secret show at the Crocodile that night- which is a small club in downtown Seattle. He was leaving in 5 minutes and calling to see if I wanted to go. Even with a juicy steak almost on the grill, I couldn't pass it up.

It was totally feasible. They had just played a headlining gig at Bumbershoot (which is an arts festival in Seattle) on Monday night. Plus, they played the Croc in 2002 right after Bumbershoot. Also, Peter Buck lives here in Seattle and his wife is an owner of the Crocodile. All the pieces seemed to be falling into place.

Scott and Anthony and I made it down there and got in a long line. It was almost like a pitcher was pitching a no-hitter - no one talked about REM in line, as if it would jinx the situation or something. Actually, it may be more like a flash mob- a certain group of people just happened to know to get to the croc early.

Actually, one guy came out and as he walked away, he said that REM had canceled. We chose to ignore him.

We got in and saw the bill:

9:30 The Turn Ons
10:30 Visqueen
11:30 The Kings of Hawaii

The Kings of Hawaii is the headliner? Who the hell is that? Why don't they have any shirts for sale or anything. Visqueen is much more well known band- yet they weren't headlining. Upon more inspection, we did see they had a CD for sale. Oh well.

So we had a few beers watched Visqueen and started to get amped for the Kings of Hawaii (which we thought might be a clever name for REM to use). After Visqueen the folks milled about on the stage and set up some instruments. The folks we thought we roadies suddenly started playing. I kept expecting them to say "Hah! just kidding, please welcome... REM!!!" But it was the The Kings of Hawaii, who let us know that it was the biggest crowd they had ever played in front of.

Something had to be up. Why would this rinky-dink band be the headliner?

They finished their set and the tension in the room was palpable. The lights never went up, and more stage hands milled about. There was definitely going to be a fourth band that wasn't on the bill. It had to be REM. I fully expected to see Michael Stipe run onto the stage at any moment.

However, it didn't turn out like that. The stage hand-looking folks starting throwing guitars over their shoulders like they were going to play. Then a bunch of people started yelling- this is it, REM is here I thought.

It was Peter Buck. Just Peter Buck. Peter Buck and what I now know as one of the worst bands in Seattle- the opener for the night The Turn-Ons.

By now it's 1:30 AM, we're half drunk on a Tuesday night expecting to see REM and here we are watching Peter Buck pretend that the Turn-Ons are worth playing with. They played about five wretched songs and left the stage. That was it, it was over.

You know, I think it was the lead singer of the Turn-Ons that really got to me. The general consensus was that he had no business sharing the stage with Peter Buck, or Peter Pan for that matter.

Still in disbelief, the crowd stayed. The lights went up, the crowd stayed. Crocodile employees yelled for people to get out- and people stayed. REM still might come out, just maybe.

It was pretty sad. Apparently the guy we saw as we were going in was telling the truth- REM canceled. I really think they were going to play and Peter Buck was trying to save some face. I dunno.

Anyway, it was fun hanging with folks until late night on a Tuesday, but it doesn't make for the story I wanted to be telling you right now- the story of being one of a few to see REM at the Croc.