The once over twice

X is a band that's so good I had to see them twice in one week. And a week later, they're still in my dreams.

X is the sound of love being so right but going so wrong...songs of love and jealousy and hope and decay...

songs of trying to stick together until it hurts...

of drunken house parties that start out fun and end in fights...

of one of you upset, staying up all night on the couch, chain smoking and watching some bad old movie because you can't sleep...

of starting out happy together at a bar and ending up so mad you throw your jewelry and car keys anything else you have in your hand across the room, and waking up the neighbor and the landlord...

of waiting up for the one you love to come home, but suspecting they're with someone else -- but you make out like crazy when they do show up...

of thinking that it's true love and being so happy, only to slowly realize that you're not right for each other...

of the knowledge that Hell is an eternity of seeing the thousands of ways the Devil can make you fall in love, and knowing that you'd do it all over again...

of crying 96 tears in 24 hours, with sex once every hour...

of dancing with tears in your eyes...

all with a killer guitar riff.

Photo: at least two ecstatic X fans at the Cabooze in Minneapolis, March 22, 2008.

Here's X, playing True Love, Pt. 2, eons ago:

And here they are more recently, performing In This House That I Call Home:



And just because they're so groovy, a couple of performances from Penelope Spheeris' The Decline of Western Civilization:

I just heard this sad song by another band

In 1967 the Doors recorded a little ditty called "Soul Kitchen". Ten years later, a couple of guys posted nearly identical ads in the same newspaper on the same day, looking for like-minded musicians. They got together, found a like-minded drummer and a female voice, and ended up re-recording "Soul Kitchen" -- this time with original Door Ray Manzarek producing.

31 years later, that band -- X -- is touring again, and they are a sweet treat indeed. In the time between, the guitarist had left the band, the female voice had a kid with Viggo Mortenson, and the bass player and male voice had been playing the father of troubled teens on various tv shows and movies (ok -- over 60 at last count, and not always as the father of the troubled teen).

They played at Metro last night on Clark Street in Chicago, a fast and furious night of loud guitars, humming amps, fuzzy ears, sweat and pure rock & roll. I thought I'd jot down the set list, but my pen was knocked out of my hand during the opening chords of the opening song, and I didn't much mind. In 75 minutes they'd pretty much whipped through nearly every song on their first two albums, Los Angeles and Wild Gift, with generous helpings from More Fun In The New World.

Instead of smiling his shit-eating-grin off into nowhere while he played his signature silver guitar, Billy Zoom was smiling down into the crowd, boring creepily into every individual who dared lock eyes with him; John Doe showed that he's got to be the happiest man on the planet, being able to do what he loves and working up a lather doing it; Exene's no longer that messed up hot chick we lusted after, but now an older sister, showing us how cool it is to be a singer in a rock & roll band; and drummer D.J. Bonebrake revealing how the most fit drummer in the land keeps in shape. (Stark juxtaposition: just 4 months ago, I saw Doe crooning Merle Haggard's "Silver Wings" into a lone mic with an acoustic guitar -- looked like he was loving that, too..)

A critic once suggested that X "were not just one of the greatest punk bands, but one of the greatest live rock acts of all time." I can't argue against that point, and I have to say that seeing them in a smaller club could underscore that point -- and best of all I have a chance to prove it to myself again Saturday night in Minneapolis.

Here's X during the recording of "White Girl":



And here's an interview with Ray Manzarek and a performance of "Soul Kitchen":



Oh, and...does anyone out there know the identity of the bearded gentleman who read the awesome poetry before X took the stage?

Thanks to Seitz, who answered the poetry question in the comments.

The poet was Thax Douglas. His poem is here.

Chicago Sun-Times review is here.