My Perfect Meeting of Monsieur Taylor Hawkins
August of 1995, I found myself at the small Wash. DC joint known as the 9:30 Club, owned by I.M.P. (promoter), months before it shut its doors and re-emerged as the larger and new school/new location 9:30 Club. Sure, this was a rival venue and promoter to my present working situation at Cellar Door Productions/Entertainment (co-talent buyer for The Bayou nightclub + booking agent). Regardless, Lisa at the 9:30 was always cordial enough for a neighborly ticket hook-up. The show... the emerging rocket-ship-to-stardom-like scenario of Alanis Morissette.
Soon after the first song began its live ascension, I realized this crew may be seriously cocked and locked. Multiple songs into the set, the "may' turned into an absolute definitive. This guitar player would have fit nicely within Jane's Addiction's universe, while the drummer was hmmm, oh I don't know... what the effing F? My all-encompassing percussion thoughts included the notions that he was either going to break his arms, break the kit or just plain fly away. There was a freight train amongst the toms, cymbals and snare. A significant share of Alanis' delicious musical launch with Jagged Little Pill was due to that live ensemble. Alanis was unquestionably fantastic but these were NOT studio robots just playing the notes and barely acting the part. They co-owned the stage and laid down a sonic assault. They helped define her as a legitimate live rock artist, because she kept up her end of the bargain, as well. Oh... no! This wasn't the night I met Taylor Hawkins. Nah.
Leap into the future to August of 1996, almost a year to the day, and we are hanging at Nissan Pavilion (amphitheater) in Bristow, VA. The show... the current mega-superstar scenario of Alanis Morissette, and at this juncture carrying these cool guy musicians as support, known as Radiohead. Pertinent information would be that Cellar Door Productions was also the power concert promoter in the area, they owned this location, therefore I had the fullest of access. After having one of my artists perform a fairly nice parking lot pre-party performance, their additional necessity was backstage for the big event. They loved Radiohead, what could I say? Although a little out of bounds ushering so many fellows, due to my medium status in the power structure at Cellar Door, my laminate was full access and full escort, so I made it happen with the powers at be.
Off we go into the confines of the "guys, behave just enough, please" behind the scenes production atmosphere. Within five minutes, obviously, my band posse inappropriately approaches and forcibly creates a meeting between most of RADIOHEAD and themselves, while exiting catering, shortly before their set. They did not possess the proper concert prelude ethics and boundaries, one would say. Luckily, the quite British-like Brits reacted in a smooth mellow flow. They were still Radiohead at this point, not yet RADIOHEAD! After their glorious meeting, I asked the guys to please stay close as we head outside and toward the side of stage. Down hallway #1, then right turn headed down hallway #2, then there's a disheveled skinny blonde dude... sitting indian-style on the floor... in hallway #2... cracking drum sticks on the unnaturally light brown rug. Well, what do you know? It's him, warming up for tonight's kill.
I am not the guy who interrupts or messes with anybody's finely tuned chi. Nonetheless, what the hell is he doing in the hallway? Sitting on the floor, with sticks. Over an hour before his set. Regardless, we saunter on by, and as we do, I feel a tug on my shorts coming from Alanis' current floor percussionist as he proceeds to say "hey man, love those guys!" Demanding clarification, I politely retort "who's that?" His response, "Shudder To Think, man." That's correct, I was wearing a Shudder To Think t-shirt, and he was acknowledging their premier ownership of epic-level music making. I obviously confirm those findings, and give him one of those hipster handshakes. He introduces himself, "I'm Taylor." I introduce myself and squat down to begin a short but sweet conversation. I ask him, "how do you know these guys?" He said he loved their new album, was listening to it obsessively during his long touring journey for Jagged Little Pill, and I believe he mentioned that he crossed paths with them at some point on the road... although my memory is slightly fuzzy on that. He had no choice but express his true artist love, and I was impressed with his creative choice. Shudder To Think is a phenomenal band, but can still be a very acquired taste. Looking back on all of Taylor's future success really makes me love that early raw memory. Just a guy on the rise, in the moment, digging fine tuneage.
Imagine that? I made you suffer through all this drawn-out information buried inside this choppy although not disjointed storyline... just for a tug on the shorts?... and a hipster handshake?... and a necessary conversation for both of us? There is little doubt Taylor Hawkins needed to speak to me. People, it was inevitable.