The More Fun in the New World Symphony: X at the Paramount Theatre, Austin, October 18
The More Fun in the New World Symphony: X at the Paramount Theatre, Austin, October 18
The band calls it a day, sort of but not really. Because after all, it's just time.
Despite what you may have heard, after 47 years, nine studio albums, four live albums, several appearances on music compilations, plus films and side projects, X, the band not the ruined social media site, is not calling it quits.
To be clear, they’re not planning to release any more albums after their latest, Smoke & Fiction, which dropped in August, and they won’t do any more extended tours after their current one ends in late December. But they’re not breaking up, and given the opportunity will still play the odd festival or cruise ship (really; look up Little Steven’s Underground Garage Cruise). Nevertheless, this tour feels like a valedictory dance, a victory lap. I’m reminded of a quote I once read in the last issue of the New York Rocker music zine (uh…spring ’84), where writer Andy Schwartz quoted John Doe quoting Billy Zoom: “If you’re gonna spend your life beating your head against a wall, you should at least find a wall you like.” And on Friday night at the grand old Paramount in Austin, we were all headbangers. The songs were bangers, one after another, until the slower, calmer, acoustic encores to send us home. Longtime, weathered fans and younger ones too (many of them musicians themselves) were down in the ancient aisles, standing and bopping, shaking their fists high, nearly forming a conga line, and it was freaking amazing. Exene, constantly gesturing, turning, hopping in her besloganed carapace. John, graying head down, a workman at his bench. Billy, seated for most of the night but radiating coolest-person-ever vibes as always. DJ, smashing out the backbone and you wouldn’t want anyone else in his place. Everyone was where we wanted them to be and after all the losses we’ve all been through, let’s just stop for a second and appreciate that.
It always surprises me when I mention “X, the band” to people and get a blank stare in return. You know them well or you don’t know them at all. In my mind and in those of many of my friends and fellow fans of a certain age, they’re huge rock stars and have been for decades; how is it that not everyone has heard of them? Outside of our bubble, time, oddly enough, has apparently passed us by.
After all, it’s just time. Time, the avenger, the great clarifier, the invincible enemy, the redeemer. There have been bumps and potholes along the way, detours and serious medical issues, Billy Zoom having left between ‘86 and ‘99 and the “Exene is a nutcase” thing (no comment) and the band has not been a constantly active entity, but listen, kids, X is still as relevant and sounds as vital, as urgent, as passionate as they ever did, which is something of a miracle, especially given the average lifespan of a rock band. The original four Ramones are all long gone; the Fab Four of the LA punk scene is still alive and kicking onstage, and hallelujah to that. Call it punk, call it country-rockabilly-punk Americana, call it a uniquely American expression of rebel poet creativity, who cares?
So, Christine Cervenka, John Duchac, Donald J. Bonebrake (yes, it’s his real name) and Stuart Kindell: thanks for everything. Mortality always wins, but before that, the kids will have their say. What a long, strange, and very punk trip it’s been. And as Exene once sang:
Surprise, Surprise, I remember them all.
Surprise, Surprise, we ain't pissed them off.
Surprise, Surprise, I kind of miss the past
Surprise, Surprise, it went by so fast.
For a night, we were back where it all began. For one night, X gave us the gift of timelessness. Quite the wild gift, it was. And don’t forget the Motor City.