Summer Song Challenge, Day 73: Dave

Prompt: "A song makes you want to write 1000 words about it"

Selected by Dave

"You're Not Salinger. Get Over It."

The Wonder Years

Sleeping on Trash: A Collection of Songs Recorded 2005–2010, 2013

I had a rare day off from the Laf on a hot summer day in 2009. I think it was June. I received a text message from my friend Nick G., asking if I wanted to see the Wonder Years that evening. Upon confirming that I would indeed join him, I went to their MySpace to check the venue. They were still somewhat local, but successful enough to be leaving for a UK tour the following morning. I figured they'd play somewhere like the Balcony Bar above the Troc (R.I.P.), The Fire, or even Johnny Brenda's. The venue section of their MySpace had them originally playing at the small venue above Adobe, which is a Mexican restaurant in South Philly. I took my wife there a month prior on our first date to see acoustic sets from Man Overboard, Shane Henderson from Valencia, and Vinny Caruana from the Movielife. It's a pretty neat venue, but odd and somewhat dangerous that it's above a restaurant, because the people who attend these shows are heathens with no regard for their surroundings. Adobe was crossed out with no explanation (presumably because they didn't want heathens destroying their nice little venue) and replaced by an address in West Philly. In parenthesis next to the address was a note that read, "Yeah, it's a basement." Then I looked at the lineup which included three heavy hitters, two of which were local: I Call Fives, Transit, and Man Overboard. (A few years later I would see Transit and Man Overboard on tour with New Found Glory.) That's when I knew I was in for a night. So, I recruited our close friend, Mike S., and off we went.

West Philly is odd. It's a combination of the typical row homes you'll find all over the city, but there's also cavernous twin homes. This show took place in the basement of one the twin homes. Upon our arrival we were met with a surprisingly orderly line that extended 20-30 yards down the block. The door was run by presumably one of the tenants. I forget the fee. Probably $5. Once inside, the line continued through the living room, into the dining and down the basement steps. The house was disgusting. There was half eaten food everywhere, empty McDonald's bags, and an unstrung, beat up guitar on the living room table. There was also a few bikes with messenger bags nearby, which is how we ascertained that we were in a messenger house. I never hung out with messengers, but their unkempt appearance displayed on their Rittenhouse Square afternoon breaks sure did follow them home.

The upstairs was spacious with high ceilings, so I expected a moderately large basement to hold the roughly 150 attendees. Holy fuck was I wrong. The drop ceiling was roughly seven feet high and the room itself was about half the size of a grade school classroom. There was no stage and really no room for the bands either. We must have gotten there relatively early because we made it down into the basement pretty easily, but once we were in we were stuck. I don't recall, but there's no way everyone in line made it into the show. They had to turn people away at some point. The house also didn't have air conditioning, and I wore jeans that night like a fucking moron.

I believe I Call Fives played first, but I have no recollection of their set. My first memory of music being played that night was Transit. While all the bands brought their own gear, they had to share one PA system that didn't work. So, if you're keeping score, we have: a disgusting, unairconditioned house run by messengers, with a basement at 200% capacity with seven ft high ceilings, and a non-operational PA system. Flying start. As a result, the entire basement had to scream every song of every band. I knew of Transit and Man Overboard but I didn't know them well enough at the time to sing every lyric. I ended up loving Man Overboard in the years to follow. I also saw Transit a few more times. At the Chameleon Club (R.I.P.) in Lancaster in 2012, Transit once again opened for the Wonder Years, and mentioned the basement show on stage. I ran into the singer in the bar area after their set and I mentioned the basement show. We had a laugh.

While enthusiastic and bit rowdy, the basement was relatively docile during Transit and Man Overboard. Bands typically claim to love playing basement shows, but they appeared to hate every second of this particular show. They were standing in a smelly oven with barely enough room to strum their instruments. I don't remember either band sounding particularly good, but criticizing them for that would be like criticizing Jimmy Rollins for dropping the sixth inning fly ball during the torrential downpour in Game 5 of the World Series. That inning should have never started, just like this show should have never happened.

Finally, the Wonder Years began their set and all hell broke loose. The moshing spilled into the bassist's space and knocked over his amp, causing him to stop playing to grip up whoever it was that lost their footing. For some reason, the aforementioned heathens thought crowd surfing despite the seven ft drop ceiling was a good idea. By the end of the set, a good portion of the ceiling was bare as multiple tiles were destroyed. The best part, though, was the tribalism of it all. Every single person in that room screamed every line of every song and had the time of their fucking life. It was one of the best shows and nights of my life. They either closed with "You're Not Salinger. Get Over It." or "When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong." I believe I remember singing the line, "Chin up and we'll drown a little slower” over and over the end the night, so it must have been "Salinger."

I've searched high and low on the internet for evidence of the show. Somebody posted a video on Reddit of a TWY basement show from 2009 and it looks a lot like the one I attended. However, it's from February and in Lancaster. I also found an article where the vocalist, Soupy, references playing a basement show in West Philly on May 2nd, 2009 with Fireworks. That doesn't check out with my show, because I loved Fireworks, and I don't believe they played. May of 2009 would have been too early for how hot it was, plus, Sliv didn't come home with Nick and I. He was picked up by his now wife and they headed down the shore, much more in line with June.

I kind of like that I can't find the date, address, or a grainy YouTube video. There's a certain charm to it only being a distant memory. To this day, we have no idea why Adobe was crossed out. I'm sure the messengers regret offering up their house.