Thane Thomsen and I witnessed time doubling up on itself. While some of the previous musical generations will always grumble, "It ain't like it was," I count myself among those who are psyched about the scene whenever it renews itself. Before the Sierra Grille began its Thursday night series, I'd started to feel like it was permanently 1975 (i.e. pre-punk) in Northampton, with the old faves playing shows to dwindling crowds, and just waiting for something new to happen to kick our arses. Seemingly out of nowhere, a dozen great new bands cropped up. But one night, Thane and I were at the Sierra when we heard a band doing a Pavement cover. We began reminiscing how, at early Figments rehearsals, we'd do the same song. Then we heard that the band playing was in fact named something very similar to our band. We freaked out. Not angrily, but just in an "uh-oh" way. Were we witnessing the snake eating its tail, and should we have left the party by now? Post Script: the answer has proven to be a definite "no."
Related note: after one of the very occasional recent Aloha Steamtrain shows, I was accosted by several of the new breed, raving and wondering why we didn't play more often. I said we used to, but you were in eighth grade. This could have been a dark night of the soul, but instead I realized 35 is the new 21.
