The entire main floor of the house was like one giant room with a kitchen and a half-bath hanging off it. It was, therefore, conducive to hosting massive parties. Good thing, too, because the place was such an energy sieve that we had to throw monthly massive parties just to generate enough cash to pay the heat bill.
On the Saturday nights that we weren't nearly breaking a floor joist because so many people were dancing to "Police & Thieves" or "Janie Jones", we were probably huddled around the TV trying to warm up by the sickly glow of Night Flight on the USA Network. There might be a Cheech & Chong movie, or some combo of weird animation and videos they'd never show on that brand new thingie they called MTV.
And, about the time of day we were either putting down the beers and firing up the bong, or putting down the bong and cracking open the beers, something called New Wave Theatre would catch our gnat-like attention spans. One thing New Wave Theatre was not, was boring. It was hosted by the annoying Peter Ivers, whose stream-of-consciousness raps about gherkins and Ginkels made us almost wish someone would bludgeon him to death. Then someone did. Sorry, Pete. You're still missed after all this time.
Here's a clip from New Wave Theatre by the Suburban Lawns that I've been obsessively watching over and over again. The song is called "Janitor," the lyrics of which came from a real-life conversation between lead singer Sue Tissue and a friend trying to converse in a noisy room when they first met.
She asked me what I did for a living. I said, "I'm a janitor," and she thought I said, "Oh my genitals."
All action is reaction...
expansion...
contraction...
Man the manipulator.
Underwater
Does it matter?
Anti-matter
Nuclear reactor
Boom boom boom boom
Who's your mother?
Who's your father?
I guess everything's relative.
The Suburban Lawns are/were:
Sue Tissue, vocals
John McBurney, lead guitars & vocals
Vex Billingsgate, bass & vocals
Frankie Ennui, guitars & vocals
Chuck Roast, drums
