Lately I've been thinking of the lazy days of summer when Julie and I used to sit by the campfire toasting marshmallows and making out till the camp counselor sent us to our respective rooms. That was Alabama. I was Travolta. She was my Olivia. We were our own East Coast Grease. Things couldn't have been better.
The next summer Julie never returned. I spent my days of lament eating peanut butter sandwiches, and trying to recover from my heartache and tether-ball injuries. Things couldn't have been worse. I got the chickenpocks and bee stings and poison ivy, yet the camp never sent me home. Years went by and I managed to put Julie out of my mind with books and tapes and the radio, and a string of psychotic girlfriends.
Yet, even with Julie out of my conscious mind, I lived restlessly with a gnawing sense of unresolved issues. That was until this February when I recieved a tip from a local scenester in the know. This "hep cat", who shall remain nameless, let me in on some inside information: A band by the name of The Measles would playing at O'Briens in Allston. As this individual put it, "anybody who's anybody would be there."
With this priceless info in mind, I dragged my aching heart to the show that would change my life. As I stepped through the doors of O'Briens, I could hardly believe my eyes. I had spotted my summer camp love -- the girl who once gave me a welt the size of a sand dollar, with a whiffle-ball bat now blossomed into a woman. She stood in the center of the room , sipping cheap draft beer from a plastic party cup, clad in a blue tuxedo top and black jeans.
Stunned by this ghostly vision of beauty from my past, I maintained a stationary position at the bar until I was drunk enough to make my way throught the crowd that surrounded her. What happened after this was significantly less romantic. Julie had to be given a few clues to remember who I was (twenty-six to be exact). When she finally did remember who the hell I was, she wasn't particularly enthralled with my idea of rekindling that fire that had once burned between us. Not being one for out and out rejection, I used this opportunity to bargain with her. I made an unbudging proposal. I would leave her alone in exchange for a kiss and an interview with The Measles. At least I got the interview.
Once Julie and the band took the stage, I got a taste of something I wasn'texpecting. This was punk rock mixed with a sweet sweet lollipop, accommodating to your every mood. For the disenchanted romantics they had "No It's Not" the anti-love love song. For the victims of bicyclet hievery,they offered up "God took my bike." For those protesters of modern day radio, they gave "the Z." If you wanted to hear a little talk of sex -- and who doesn't? -- they had "Chinese Boy." Whatever you wanted, they had it.
As for style, Julie could turn from that girl with the pig tails and the all-day sucker into a growling contender, hacking at her guitar. Behind her, the bass and drums followed suit, following patiently throught the sweetest parts and pounding steadily through the heaviest parts.
A couple of weeks after this show, I met the band for some beers and food and an interview before their show with the Pills at Bill's Bar. The atmosphere was casual. While Julie was off hob knobbing at another table with some band I didn't recognize, the rhythm section began the interview for me. Mike (drums) and Adrian (bass) declared boldly that "Julie (vox/guitar) is the naughtiest Measle of them all." Yet, when I asked them to explain this they refused. With every question I put to the band, Julie seemed to become ever more mysterious to me. When I asked the band about their influences, I got answers from Julie and Mike like Christopher Cross and Ted Nugent, which I suspect they weren't being entirely sincere about. Perhaps the only straight forward answer I did get in response to this question was given by Adrian when he claimed the fact that he hadn't had a cigarette since New Year's as his main influence. His sincerity in this answer was clearly affirmed by the lusty glances he would periodically shoot at the cigarettes I smoked throughout the interview.
...To Be Continued...