#Roc4Tim with Grandma D

Laughing in the Face of Loss Hitting The Books On Christmas

#Roc4Tim with Grandma D

In my concert-going life, I’ve been lucky to have some pretty special access to shows. From working backstage during my college years at Irvine Auditorium in Philly and watching performances of Jimmy Cliff and 10,000 Maniacs from the orchestra pit, to living room concerts by Luka Bloom and Jeffrey Foucault, to the 2014 Grammys complete with a backstage tour, I thought I knew what it felt like to get VIP treatment.

And then I took my octogenarian mom to a thrash metal concert last weekend and let me tell you: I’ve been slumming until now. You want special treatment? Take someone who was born during The Great Depression to a show.

I was in my hometown visiting Mom for her birthday last weekend. When I arrived, I picked up the “Going Out” listings in the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, looking for Anthology. It’s a new-ish music club owned the kid who lived next door to us growing up, who is probably as pleased as any fifty-something would be when referred to as a “kid” at this stage of our lives. It turned out that Anthology was hosting a day-long concert to benefit Tim Avery, a member of the local music scene who was diagnosed with cancer and needs help paying for treatment. A ton of bands who had donated their time were playing from 2 pm Saturday through the wee hours of Sunday morning, including Rochester’s own Joywave and KOPP as headliners. All the proceeds of the show and a big art raffle were going to help Tim. #Roc4Tim pretty much sounded like it would rule.

So I said to Mom, with a laugh, “Hey, want to go day-clubbing with me to PK’s place?” (He is probably is as pleased as anyone who now goes by “Phil” would be when I inform you that his childhood nickname was PK.) My mom not only said “Yes!” but she continued to remind me about it for the next two days so I wouldn’t forget. She told every one of her grandkids whom she encountered that she was going day-clubbing, whatever that was. I emailed Phil/K that we were coming and he said, “Awesome, you and your mom are on the guest list!”

On Saturday we rolled up to da club at 1:55 pm and parked; when we got around the corner to Anthology there was already a line of people bundled up against the raw Upstate New York weather, waiting patiently for Security to open the door. Not us, though: Security opened the door and swept Mom and I right in out of the Rochester cold. High five.

About thirty seconds later, Phil, who was clearly using the organizational cunning that made him the neighborhood Ten Sticks champ back in ’77, spied us and yelled “MRS. DAVIS!!!” and enveloped my mom in a hug. After Mom showed him a picture she carries in her purse of her with his niece, who came to Family Camp last year (so complicated, don’t worry about it) Phil showed us to a table. When I went to buy our drinks, the bartenders had already been told not to let us pay for anything. It took real effort to persuade anyone to allow us to make a donation to Tim’s medical fund. I’m surprised no one handed Mom a tambourine and pulled her onstage.

If Rochester had had music venues like Anthology when I was growing up there, and if bands like Joywave had been sprouting up then instead of waiting thirty years, maybe I wouldn’t have moved away in search of better concert halls. It’s fantastic – great acoustics, lots of different seating options plus a standing room area, bars for both coffee and booze. The acoustics were so good, in fact, that I was relieved I’d brought Mom some ear plugs. I got her all plugged in as the first band, DRUSE, warmed up. We were enjoying the music and chatting together, and all of a sudden, the singer opened his mouth and I realized I’d taken Mom to her first thrash metal show.

This message is for the members of DRUSE: I thought you sounded great, but Mom’s last concert was a John Denver impersonator, and this was a titch outside her comfort zone. Not that you could have possibly heard it, but she did yell, “Oh shut up! Shut up!” at you a couple times, as well as “WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY?” while rolling her eyes.

By this time, Security had opened the doors and people were flocking in to #Roc4Tim – the energy reminded me of a frat party I went to every year in college that was basically a 36 hour indie rock concert with breaks for Philly cheese fries and Diet Coke so you could stay awake. I read on Facebook later that #Roc4Tim had completely sold out and, if the pace at which tickets for the raffle (which included some art that riffed on the famous 1976 Bowie mug shot when he and Iggy Pop were arrested in Roch for weed possession) were selling was any indication, the Rochester music-loving community must have raised a lot of money for a very good cause.

Give Rochester credit for the foxiest mug shot ever

But after DRUSE finished up Mom decided that she wanted to do a Facebook check in, as grandmothers with no computer access define it: I had to drive her to Phil’s mom’s house in our old neighborhood, so Mom could tell Julie Fitz she’d just attended her son’s big event, #Roc4Tim.

When we got home later Saturday afternoon, I opened up my phone and read breaking news of the Ghost Ship Fire in Oakland. No one I know personally was there, but I have a lot of friends of friends who are still missing or confirmed dead. It’s awful, tragic, such a loss of potential, of so many young lives from all over Oakland and the East Bay. Our city is reeling right now.

I don’t have an elegant way to wrap this up. Just an observation that the juxtaposition of #Roc4Tim against the Ghost Ship Fire reminded me of how powerful and magical it can be when a community of musicians and music fans coming together, and what exactly we stand to lose when tragedy takes it away from us.

Go to shows. Be safe. Check for fire exits, always.

I’m pleased to tell you that Tim Avery’s medical fund has been fully funded on GoFundMe and is no longer accepting donations. Rock on, Tim.

Here’s how you can donate to help victims and families of victims of the Ghost Ship Fire.