We ran up the hill past the UC Berkeley clock tower just as the roar from the Greek Theater broke. Followed by the most definite Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Ooh-oohs of "Cut Your Hair" and one happy crowd of thousands.
"Damn it!" I cried.
And we forgot the earplugs.
I was en route to a reunion weekend - boyfriend new (Mustacho), girl friend (Raven) old since the bands on the agenda busted up. Pavement for Friday night, followed by Concrete Blonde, then the Pride Day parade down the streets of San Francisco. Musical, colorful, sleepless madness were on the way and the soundtrack couldn't be better. I was putting all work away for 48 hours of all I could stay awake for and after zipping through a day food free I was ready to get the party started (and fed).
"Let's go to dinner! Wait for me in the BART," I told Raven as she left SFO and headed through my city and east bay bound.
One hour later, it was me inside the BART and Raven and her friend Ken, former co-worker, waiting outside and circling the Financial District's sunshine. And finding a corner to smoke a bowl or two. I'd gotten rid of my cell, not like anything could service the depths of the tunnel I was in, but it was old school pay phone hunting - and I found one that was clinging to existence.
"You look beautiful Anna!" Raven cried busting through the carrel, Ken dragging her stuff ahead and grinning a supernatural glee towards me, the pillar, the escalator.
Pinker than I'd ever seen her, and laying on the affections and compliments (who doesn't look better glazed?) we shot through under the Bay and into downtown Berkeley.
A 20 year old version of Raven awaited for us (her cousin, the undergrad), all long blonde hair and a bowl-less innocence. "Thai?" she asked when the stoners and I couldn't make a call.
We paced up and down Shattuck, settling in to suck up the good of a Plearn Thai Kitchen and hoping the rest of our party (Mustacho and Lilly) could track us down. It was Shabbatz and Raven busted out the halah for all.
"Can I have the salad?"
"And rice."
"And basil beef. Uh, water?"
"Curry salmon."
"Me too."
"Is the wine coming?"
"Can we have a candle? Lit. Wait - no! Unlit!"
"Just beer, for me, please." Ah, Ken.
The server at Plearn was accosted but we were about to suck down his kitchen. With grace said, saints and sinners got on with sucking up the food. Lilly arrived, long flannel shirt, and other fashion pieces that seemed damn familiar . . .
"Nice flannel," Raven said, nodding with the same squint of faint recollection.
"We're headed to the Castro for a Redneck themed party, if you want to come," Lilly said.
Food left Raven's nose. "Are you serious?"
"Yea," I told her. "That's where we live now. Where being a redneck is exotic." I spoke between alternating my right and left fork to stuff Thai-whatever in my mouth. "I'm headed to Pavement at the Greek Theater."
"Grunge right?"
Raven cracked up again and tried to clarify, to hold onto our dignity beyond trends of the '90s, make it sound deeper a time.
"Ooh, there are so many good things from the '90s," the cousin said.
"Thanks!" Raven and I crowed back in unison, smiling at each other. Friendship since then was amongst the pile . . . what the hell else they were referring to we never got to discover. Mustacho arrived and we had to hustle as the clock neared 9 P.M.
Raven needed advice first, "Hey, is there somewhere around here we can have a bowl? Of uh," a look to her cousin and back at me. "Of ice cream?"
"Oh, there's great $1 ice cream around here!" the cousin replied.
Raven pressed and tried again. "Yea, but somewhere where we can have a bowl, you know?"
"They have bowls, cones, whatever you want."
I laughed off my chair and headed outside, trying to direct them around the corner or to head in our direction, a pass through avenue that offered the corners for whatever Berkeley adventure you wanted.
"Okay, we're going to go find a bowl," Raven said, empathetically, waiting for the kids that loved the '90s to catch on.
"You can get gelato too," Lilly chimed in.
We had to leave the party, and move on to the Greek.
And wouldn't you know it - of all things in this state, this place known for its laid back ways, another f-in concert started right on time. We raced up the hill and through the entrance as the songlist began. Taking a spot on the far right field, high above the theater in the grass, we watched the full glory of a soft lit night and a pumped up band truly playing live, alive, and finding those notes again like they were hidden $100 bills in old pockets.
Pockets from the '90s. Pockets where there were good things.
But it wasn't hitting notes from the past and bringing comfort to the present, eliminating the time that's past that made this a kick ass concert. It was music that held an allusion to early 60s pop and the time since, with full energy of the mid 90s when they came to an end that actually made them feel more alive and timeless - a gift that made today beautiful, not a scratch recording of the past. They were all presents-presence and it felt natural, right, human and fun. While a callback in some sounds, Malkmus, etc. were all their damn own and a smile radiated from the stage of pure rock-n-roll. "We're in no hurry . . . School's out, what did you expect?"
"I want a Range Life, if I could settle down . . . "
It wasn't a reminder of yesterday. It was great call for today. I smiled sitting there, and recognized I had a special Mustacho right by me, having the same damn good time. After cleaning casa all week for Raven's visit later that weekend. Buying me Hi Chews to smuggle in the concert. Carrying both bookbags of the layers of clothing this 30-degree span place demands up a hill to ease my back ache . . .
Maybe I just caught up to the time in life when the band wrote those tunes. Maybe it was the Thai or the twinkling lights. Maybe it was just the fun of hearing Pavement live and wishing I'd gotten the chance before. But the mellow followed by attitude, the rock and the sway of the vocals and the music, and the presence of the man beside me helped me realize something else entirely: That all was okay. To just go for it. That this was life, a sweet slice of it. That while I'm not in a hurry, there are some things and some people I may be ready to make up my mind on, in a right and good direction - and its a sweet slice that I'd never expect and can only get better. I never needed a bowl of anything else.
Whether Pavement then, relationships then or Pavement now, relationships now - well, some things haven't shifted too much. And you should enjoy the best when you get a taste of it. Its timeless, and sometimes sloppy and sweet in just the right ways.
Plus, he has a pretty nice haircut.
A review of Pavement at The Greek Theater at U.C. Berkeley found here.
LOOK FOR REUNION WEEKEND II: PRIDE & CB GOES ON
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