You Have To Believe

Bedford Drive made this a terrific night. 2 local bands played before us, and kids kept coming in the whole time. I'd played at the Magic Stick about 10 years before with another band, but I hardly recognized the place. They moved the bowling lanes downstairs, kept the fancy restaurant on the side, and added a kick ass stage and sound system upstairs.

Someone recently told me that the Magic Stick got it's name because Harry Houdini died there. The story goes that he was sucker punched at a bar in Toronto then travelled to Detroit. Two days later, while leaving the club in Detroit, he died from hemorrhaging. Creepy, like most stories you hear in Detroit.

This was the first time we'd seen Bedford Drive since they got a new drummer (Ryan Looney) and we were curious how they could possibly replace Jay Croft, who played incredible parts over their songs. Our question was answered quickly during soundcheck, and more completely during their show. Ryan is a bad bad man... and damn good looking too. We didn't miss out on seeing Jay, though. He is now playing guitar in another band, Keep Manhatten, and they opened the show.



Afterward, we all headed to the DRC (Down River Coney) where I ate a sandwich called the Slim Jim, and my buddy Ed (guitar player for Bedford Drive) ordered the Downriver Coney Island Special. (for information on Steve Garvey and Lucky's meal, see Steve Garvey's published works) Michelle (bass player) and I watched with growing interest as three women at a both across the restaurant began moving from table to table, striking up conversations with some drunk kids that looked to have spent the night in clubs At one point, one of the women left for the parking lot with one of the guys, leaving both their companions to guess loudly where they'd gone. Michelle (who whipped out a pair of reflective glasses) and I compared our predictions then the two re-appeared in the window. The girl leaned against a car and put her hair in a pony tail, while the guy started dancing by himself in the parking lot. It reminded me of a scene from "Cool as Ice" (with Vanilla Ice), and became more surreal the longer he danced to no music, with no beat, for no apparent reason. The girl tried to dance with him for a minute but had trouble keeping up. She finally just lit a cigarette and watched. The Slim Jim was long gone and it was 4:30 so we paid our bill and left.