Thank You Friends -- And Hops

Anyone who knows me knows which beer I almost always lean towards -- the IPA. I like a beer whose hops make their presence known, like a divorced father at his son’s baseball game. So you can imagine how happy I was on Saturday night when I walked into a Brooklyn watering hole, Hot Bird in Fort Greene, and found one of my favorite hoppy brews on tap: Dogfish Head’s 60 Minute IPA. And as is often the case with when one happens upon a special beer, a special moment soon followed.

The last time I had been to Hot Bird, it was for my friend Gracious’ going away party, a few nights before he left New York behind for a job in New Orleans and living with his babe. One of the many high points of our friendship was him introducing me to the band Big Star. In fact, I had seen Big Star with Gracious two years before at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, a few blocks from Hot Bird. So, I went to Hot Bird on Saturday night knowing I would think of Gracious and Big Star when I got there. Then, when I walked into the bar, the song that was playing was one that I recognized instantly. It was “Feel”-- the first song on Big Star’s first album. Needless to say, I felt.

One of my greatest memories of the Big Star show I saw occurred during the song “Thirteen.” Hearing the opening chords of their sweetest and most iconic number was a huge thrill, especially since no one was sure if they’d play it. But the moment that sent tingles up my spine and through my nozzle came right after the singer, cult figure/songwriter Alex Chilton sang the song’s opening line: “Won’t you let me walk you home from school?” Hearing the song’s intro was pretty fuckin’ cool, but nothing could prepare the crowd of hundreds of white people and one black person for the most memorable line from the most memorable song from one of the most memorable bands of all time. The place just went crazy.

Now, up until this moment, Chilton, the man everyone was there to see, had been pretty stone-faced. Everyone expected as much. He had always been known for a particular brand of mysterious, stoic aloofness that led to a unique fascination among his fans, including Paul Westerberg (believe it or not, The Replacements’ “Alex Chilton” changed my life before I even knew who the fuck Alex Chilton was).

Anyway, after he sang that line, and the place went crazy, something strange happened. He smiled. The legendary Alex Chilton broke his infamous cool and let out a genuine, unexpected, kind of sly grin. It was the smile of someone who’s just made a room full of people’s pussies explode. It was great to see. A couple months later, Alex Chilton died. Gracious and I had seen one of his last shows. I’ll never forget that smile.

I had walked into Hot Bird late on a Saturday night for one last drink before going home to jerk off, and I got much more than that. When I got home, instead of jerking off I watched the following video --

and I thought about friends. The way they come into your life, make it better, then go off in their own directions, on their own journeys, while you’re left to continue on yours... I thought about the things you give to each other, take from each other, and the things you share that no one else will ever come close to being able to understand. Then, I jerked off.

-B