Mayonnaise
03-18-2006, 11:34 PM
Larry had just a few records that we listened to over and over again, which became a soundtrack to the time, and a memory enhancer years later. Pere Ubu’s "The Modern Dance", Television’s "Marquee Moon", Talking Heads "Fear of Music", "Ramones", Gang of Four "Entertainment", Public Image "Metal Box" (in a round metal tin he had shipped over from England). Over and over again until I couldn’t help but like them (he had a copy of "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway" that we never played, I didn’t mention my copy was worn through). He hated loaning me his records but he was proud to hear the familiar crackles on his vinyl over the airwaves once a week. On a whim one day we drove all the way to Stinkin Lincoln to see a band his buddy called from Minnesota to say was great. Nothing but boilermakers, vomit and Husker Du for two days. These records were great but nothing as pure as the moody punk of Joy Division. He took pride in the English pressings he owned ("Closer" had just been released) and assured me no one in the whole state was cool enough to even know about this ****. Larry loved Joy Division and we listened to "Closer" and "Unknown Pleasures" all the time. I learned to love Faliero Masi, to true a wheel, to repair a sew up, to prep a race-ready bike with that music playing. I’d learned to love the little devices for their simplicity and design, for the purity of being human powered. Out on the stony streets late at night Joy Division was the sound of a camaraderie, the sound of panting, of approaching chaos, of testing fear. Youth pushed to the limits, our spirit taking flight, soaring on our journey to see the face of God.