Yello

Which is why when I saw that Yello was coming to play a concert in New York, I jumped at the chance. Eric was as stoked as I was and we made plans for the big night. Since New York is the place to be if you want to be a professional dancer, several of our Interlochen classmates had also made the trek to the holy city. Somehow, we got some of them involved in the plans and ended up at the apartment of one of them to gather before the concert. Being dancers, they were all thin and beautiful, but (being dancers) they were also crazy, and any attraction Eric or I felt for them had long since faded into guarded camaraderie. Still, there was something sort of cool about going out for a night on the town with two beautiful women on each arm, and I, for one, felt pretty manly.

It was a cold night in December, and the intermittent rain was starting to turn into snow. Since the ladies were decked out and we were feeling important on this special occasion, we decided to take a cab up to the show. Well, cabs, as there were six of us and we wouldn’t all fit in one. So we shuffled out to the curb, and hailed down two taxis, back to back. I got in the first one with three of the girls and Eric and the other girl – Susan, I believe – got in the second one, and we agreed to gather in front of the club and all go in together.

I was buzzing with excitement (and a little herb), taking a luxurious cab ride, anticipating the show. I was dying to see how Yello was going to pull off their songs, as they are all decidedly studio-created affairs. The cab ride wasn’t that long, and we soon found ourselves standing in front of the club. It was The Roxy, on the east side of town in a not particularly good neighborhood, but we weren’t there to cruise the neighborhood, we were there to go see Yello, so we stood up against the wall and waited for Eric and Susan to show up. They couldn’t be far behind us because we left at virtually the same moment and Eric knew enough about Manhattan to know if he was being driven astray, so we huddled together against the wall and waited. And waited. And waited. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. What the fuck? Cabs came and went, but no Eric.

Then, I suddenly noticed there was a group of guys cruising the girls. These guys were big and scary looking, and didn’t know or care that these women were crazy and not suitably stable enough for a long-term relationship. They didn’t seem particularly interested in a long-term relationship. All they saw were three beautiful 18-year-old dancers in dresses. And me. Apparently, they thought the only thing standing between them and these fine young ladies was me. Which is also what the girls thought, as they pulled in a little closer to me. While a couple of guys stood back and slowly looked the girls up and down, grunting and smacking their lips, one of them came right up and stood in my face. He didn’t say a word, but he stared at me in a way that made my blood run cold. And my blood was already pretty cold because we had been standing in the sleet for twenty minutes. Still no Eric and Susan. I quickly played out a couple of scenarios in my head, and none of them looked particularly good. Figuring Eric and Susan had ditched us and gone off to some hotel for a quick tryst and realizing that there would just be more of this evil dance between me and the girls and guys in the club, I reluctantly hailed a cab, got everybody in, and took them back to their apartment. I apologized and got on the train and went back to the apartment. Of all the shows I have missed in my life, that was the most bitter. Because, as far as I know, that was just about the only show that Yello played. Ever.

Years later, I ran across Live at the Roxy, a limited edition record of part of that show. It was a one-sided record, and consisted of an amazing fifteen minute long track, full of sound and fury and beats and effects, one of the most amazing live documents I’ve ever heard. And I was right there, leaning up against the wall of the club. I couldn’t have been any closer, but I missed it.

However, Eric didn’t. He and Susan took a different route to the club and were let off a block away. They hopped out of the cab, braced themselves against the sleet and started walking. The wrong way. They walked for blocks and blocks before finally giving up and turning around and heading the other direction. All told, they were walking in the slushy sleet for half-an-hour before they finally made it to the door of The Roxy. Three minutes after we had given up on them and left. Figuring, reasonably enough, that we had gone inside, they went in to find us. And spent the whole night wandering through the dim, cavernous, crowded club, fruitlessly looking for us. At one point, Eric had a similar experience to me, and found himself dancing with Susan while a circle of slathering wolves closed in on them. Eric realized, as I had, that he was supposed to be her protector, and things didn’t look too good. Just then, the show started and, relieved, they turned their attention to the stage. Yello came out and played an amazing fifteen minute opener – the same bit that got released on the EP. They started another song, had some trouble with the equipment, futzed with it a bit, and then called it a night. Eric couldn’t believe it. All that hassle, all that walking in the slush and snow, all that wandering around the club, all those scary moments realizing he was in way over his head and could very quickly be in a lot of trouble, all that for a fifteen minute show. Disgusted, he grabbed Susan’s hand and stormed out of the club, depositing her back at her apartment before making his way back to our place. He was pissed at me. I was pissed at him. But we talked it through, laughed about the absurdity of it, and had soon put it behind us. Although, funny thing, those girls never called us to go out again.