Rock 'n Roll Reunion
New book revisits the glory days of the C-bus punk scene
By Lia Eastep |
|
The crowd gathered for the reading at the Wexner Center was small and electric, numbering around 40. The man who had taken a seat next to me was, I suspected, a character in the book, his eyes sparkling with anticipation from under a swirl of coarse, shoulder-length hair.
"Great..." he said to no one in particular as he sat down, rubbing his hands. "This is going to be something."
"Are you someone in the book?" I asked as we stood at the end of the reading.
"I'm Tim Anstaett, the writer of The Offense. It's called The Attack in the book. I'm just mentioned by name in one part... page 30, I think." Anstaett shook my hand and proceeded to saturate me with waves of statistics and facts about the Columbus music scene.
The book in question, That Summertime Sound, is a fictionalized account of West Coast native Matthew Specktor's experiences of "summering in Columbus" during his college years, amid the thriving south campus punk scene of the mid-1980s. The book features many thinly disguised portrayals of Columbus musicians and clubs of the era, people and places that have left indelible impressions on the city's creative culture.
Although I am from Columbus and old enough to have trolled High Street during my vacations home from Kent State in the late 1980s, I was more likely to have danced to Taylor Dayne at Presley's than moshed with The Circle Jerks at Mean Mr. Mustards. (It should be noted that I am not remotely proud of this fact.) But it did not take long to get swept up in the nostalgic enthusiasms that surround any good reunion.
Mick Divvens, the inspiration for That Summertime Sound's main character, Nic Devine, took the stage first, like an impassioned opening act. Fueled more by inspiration than preparation, Divvens was nonetheless an engaging host, referencing Spalding Gray, White Castle, Thomas Jefferson and lines from the movie Lucky Number Slevin with aplomb. He spoke passionately about his early love of AM radio, Mobile's Record X-Change, Village Thrift, and how throngs of musicians came from Central Ohio's outlying small towns like Mansfield and Lancaster to "save rock and roll." Getting choked up over his opportunity to proclaim the valid contributions of forgotten groups like Sir Timothy and the Royals, Divvens forgot to introduce his friend, the author.
All was forgiven, as Specktor picked up where Divvens left off, plunging right into the tale of how he found our humble mid-western city "infinitely more progressive" than his LA hometown. It was his college roommate, a Worthington native, who first turned him onto groups like The Great Plains, Scrawl, and Divvens' band, Boys From Nowhere, "The greatest garage band you've never heard of."
Specktor read an excerpt from That Summertime Sound, choosing a scene in which his protagonist, unbeknownst to him, finally meets the object of his musical obsession in a bar called Crazy Lady's, a venue based on Columbus' own Mama's. The passage was loaded with the articulate philosophical rants and tedious critical barbs worthy of anyone who's ever gotten into a fight at a party over his or her favorite band. Although he's given more than a few readings lately to promote this book, it was clear the approval of this audience meant something to Specktor. There were times he scanned the crowd nervously, as though he expected someone to engage him in a debate right there on the stage.
Like any good hanger-on, I managed to finagle myself an invitation (alongside Specktor and Divvens) to Anstaett's basement to see "the Shrine," a basement wall dedicated to the preservation of some of High Street's glory days.
As we examined the life-sized scrapbook affixed to wood paneling, marveling at the $3 Pixies tickets, crinkled newspaper clippings, and the flyer advertising the Cocteau Twins show Specktor had attended during his initial visit to Columbus, I asked Divvens if he was currently in a band.
"No," he said after a long pause, and went on to provide a Cliff's Notes version of a creative life interrupted by creative differences, frustration, and charges of perfectionism. He shrugged, stuck his hands into the suit coat he wore over faded jeans, and went back to admiring the wall. I dropped back and took a seat on the stairs, watching this trio of men, pointing at photographs and identifying forgotten friends and ex-girlfriends, deeply bonded together in a way I never will be with the thousands of ex-patrons of the generic nightclubs of my own twenties.
You can find Matthew Specktor's book That Summertime Sound (published by MTV books) on Amazon.com or the shelves of your local bookseller. You can hear Tim Anstaett's "Yesterday's Top Secrets" on WCRS 102.1 & 98.3FM or www.wcrsfm.org. You can find Mick Divvens on Facebook - and convince him to get his band back together.
Originally Published: December 1, 2009
