How Much Shellfish Can You Take?

Exploring Martha's Vineyard with the Lemonheads' Evan Dando

Have you ever been to a place you had pre-conceived notions about only to find they were largely inaccurate? 

That’s how I’m feeling about Massachusetts today. My opinion of the state has been shaped by two things: Jack Kerouac and New England Patriots fans. I haven’t read Kerouac in decades so it’s been Massachusetts sports enthusiasts that have largely shaped my unflattering opinion of Boston’s citizenry.

One thing I’ve recently come to appreciate while doing research on my books about SST Records and with Evan Dando is how vibrant the Boston music scene was in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Bands we think of as indie rock mainstays like Mission of Burma, Dinosaur Jr, and the Pixies converged on Boston and influenced (and were influenced by) scores of lesser known acts like Blake Babies, Bullet Lavolta, Volcano Suns, and on and on and on. Boston was the perfect incubator for what came to be known as “college radio” and then “alternative rock.” Boston’s many institutions of higher learning fueled at least four college radio stations dedicated to indie rock and a plethora of record stores and live music venues that showcased local acts and drew bands from around the country, creating the perfect situation for a scene to blossom and flourish. 

I’m doing a poor job of summarizing it here (I haven’t even touched on the Boston hardcore scene) but someone who is more intimate with the region and fluent with the music—like my friend Mike Fournier—should write a book about it. 

You might recall from last week’s edition of Message from the Underworld that I nabbed a cheap flight from JFK directly to Martha’s Vineyard to spend a week with Evan Dando of the Lemonheads. Our previous face-to-face sessions in April and May largely consisted of interviews in motel rooms driven by fairly intense time constraints. We had so little time together that I stuck a microphone in Dando’s face even while we puttered around the island in his lobster bisque-colored SUV. 

This trip was different. As soon as I checked in to my motel in Vineyard Haven, Dando picked me up and we went fishing at Lake Tishmoo on the island’s north shore. The brackish lake is fed by a channel that opens into the sound directly across from the cape. We didn’t catch anything but it was a mellow way to start the week. Instead of getting right to work we talked about what we would talk about, and the week unfolded at a more civilized pace.

As we headed back to the SUV we were approached by someone who had sold it the guy that Dando had bought it from. He recognized his former vehicle and somewhat wistfully asked how it was. Dando’s SUV has spent most of its life on the island. It’s an older model—older than his breakout record It’s a Shame About Ray which turns 30 next year—but has fewer than 30,000 miles.  

That’s life on the island in a nutshell. Everyone has a shared history—or at least one that overlaps in unexpected ways. People often escape to an island to get away from something else, but once you’re among the washed ashores, the name given to those who aren’t born on the island but make a life on it, there’s no getting away from anything.

From Lake Tishmoo we went to another spot where a friend of Dando’s was hosting an underground show on a station broadcasting on a low power signal. The building also housed a practice space where Dando had some gear and one of his gold records sat on a shelf on the wall. Because it was presented in the ‘90s it’s a gold CD and tape, which I don’t think I’ve seen before. I met half-dozen or so of Dando’s acquaintances and over the course of the week I’d bump into them on my excursions around the island. I’m not sure I would like that. 

Another thing that was different about this trip to the Vineyard was that Dando had a houseguest who is as famous (or infamous depending on one’s perspective) as he is: Springa, the former singer of the legendary Boston hardcore band SSD. Springa is a larger than life provocateur with a story for every occasion. (Springa contributed to the well-documented shenanigans at the Tompkins Square Park in April by writing Black Flag Matters on his shirt.) Springa told several stories about the Lemonheads that Dando hadn’t shared with me, and I was glad Springa was there to stir the pot, so to speak.

My week in Martha’s Vineyard was a mix of quiet mornings working in my motel room, long afternoon walks around the island, interview sessions with Dando in the evening that were punctuated by impromptu jam sessions—including an incredible medley of Black Flag songs—and adventures around the island. One night we even went out to a bar in Oak Bluffs where a cover band played music to college kids, a bachelorette party, and other tourists. As horrible as that sounds I actually had a good time—for about 30 before it was time to GTFO. 

My impression of the island was generally positive. The people were friendly, the weather was mostly nice (or at least more agreeable than it had been on my previous visits), and I ate an abomination of shellfish, which I devoured at every opportunity. Oysters, mussels, scallops, and clams. The only lobster I ate was in a delicious bisque from the Net Result fish market, which was conveniently located across the street from my motel. 

Walking around the island I saw many Black Lives Matters signs. Vineyard Haven’s bookstore, Bunch of Grapes, is truly exceptional. (I bought a copy of legion of vermin member Charles Yu’s Interior Chinatown and Ottessa Moshfegh’s drug-filled My Year of Rest and Relaxation for Dando (he and Moshfegh both attended the same exclusive high school in Boston). I was intrigued by the plethora of houses covered in cedar shingles on the island, which gives many of them a weathered and, in some cases, haunted look, but maybe I only thought that way since Sara Gran’s outstanding new work, Marigold, which is available exclusively on Audible, accompanied me on my walks.  

Toward the end of my stay on the island I hopped on the ferry to Hyannis to meet up with Mike Fournier, and we took a day trip to Provincetown where a very strange thing happened. We had just parked the car and made our way to Commercial Street, Provincetown’s main drag, when I heard someone call out my name. Standing across the street was our Razorcake friend and colleague Matt Hart, whom I hadn’t seen in several years, and his girlfriend Corinne. The last time I’d seen Matt he was getting ready to leave Los Angeles so it was unusual to bump into him in a place where none of us lives and just happened to visiting for a few hours. Small world and getting smaller every day…

My adventures with Mike continued last night when I hitched a ride with him into Boston and went to see the Red Sox play the hated Houston Astros. I’d never been to Fenway Park before and I soaked in the atmosphere: hanging out in an Irish pub on Lansdowne before the game, watching the fly balls bounce off Green Monster, singing along to Sweet Caroline, and cheering on Kiké Hernandez for making it happen. 

It’s strange that since I’ve been vaccinated the two people I’ve spent the most time with are Mike and Dando, neither of whom I knew all that well when the calendar flipped to 2021. To be passionate about something is to risk slipping into obsession, but one of the best things about being passionate about art, either as a supporter or a participant, are the people you meet along the way.

Razorcake’s June Subscription Drive

Razorcake is so much more than America’s only non-profit independent music magazine. It’s a family of writers, artists, and musicians who care about music. Distribution networks come and go but fandom is forever. The best way to support Razorcake is with a subscription. $17 gets you 10 issues. That, my friends, is a deal. 

I’ll do my part by gifting a subscription to a new subscriber to Message from the Underworld (paid or unpaid). I’ll randomly select a winner from those who subscribe between now and next week’s edition, where I’ll announce the winner. 

Love Notes

Speaking of newsletters, I was in such a hurry last week that I failed to link to Siel’s weekly newsletter, which you should absolutely subscribe to. (Her latest edition concerns her recent visit to Virginia—check it out.)

As always, thanks for reading. Next week I’ll do a long overdue round up of book reviews. It’s great to be back in California. Anyone want to meet for coffee and/or burrito?