tellhimfred.com

Old age kinda creeps up on you. You don’t see it coming, you’re walking down the street, listening quite happily to your Ipod (or in my case, NotPod) believing that you’re somewhat cool and on top of current trends for enjoying The Hold Steady, or Panic! At The Disco, or Modest Mouse, or, God forbid, Blue October, when you feel a tremendous pain - you’ve just fallen and broken your metaphorical hip.

Is it a coincidence that old people constantly “break their hip”? I don’t think so.

All this occurs to me on the eve of Red Square’s upcoming gig at Wheaton College. Ten thousand years ago, when man was first learning to use tools, a good friend of mine, we’ll call him Chris (since that is his name) went to Wheaton, which is about an hour west of the little ‘ham in which I grew up, and about 45 minutes west of the large ‘ham we call Boston.

Anyway, I was a commuter, attending Suffolk U. (pronounced “so fuck you”) so I didn’t really have a place to hang out, Capitol Coffee house notwithstanding. I spent a lot of weekends at Wheaton, hanging out with Chris and his disreputable friends, enjoying experimental chemicals, beer and bonfires, and generally getting up to things of which no parent would ever approve. Fun times.

However, in preparation for playing a gig at this higher learning institution, it occurs to me that I have no idea what motivates these kids. We play gigs in bars, where people are at least old enough to drink. Are our 80s songs, for which the 23-27 year olds scream like Korean girls at a Hasselhoff book signing, going to be met with blank stares? Should we be worried about our Ataris covers? Simply put, I have no idea. I lie here with my broken hip, waiting for the help that may or may not come in the next several hours, contemplating my impending dehydration.

Which is when the second hammer blow of old age comes: I don’t care.

The kids can enjoy us or not, we’re still getting paid. Someone, somewhere along the line, decided our brand of sonic pap was going to entertain some 18-22 year olds, so we’ll see what happens. That’s when I decided I could get up on this broken hip and walk to the bingo game in time for the early bird special.