Veronica Speaks

~~~ Wednsday, November 22, 2000 ~~~

I had worked 84 days in a row. Yes, eighty-four. (Not all of them at the bar, mind you. I seriously doubt I would have made it that long without going thoroughly postal and making maltauve cocktails with the bottles of 151...) But even though my nerves were frayed, and I'd been hit with the Mother of All Toothaches all day long, there was no way in hell I was going to miss Coyote play at The Dragonfly that night.

I close up the store with Britt at 9pm (shameless plug: Advance Cutlery in Lakewood Mall), and drive back to my apartment in Long Beach. I had planned on actually dressing up a bit for the evening, but by this time I just didn't feel like I was up to the effort. I went instead in what I'd worn to work: jeans, knit shirt with a cardigan, and combat boots. They don't call me "Little Boots" for nothin'. (Hey, put that videotape of Caligula away!!!)

I get up to Hollywood, and have a hell of a time finding a parking place. When I finally do, I squeeze my 1980s Time Machine between two driveways, and get out to make certain I'm not crossing into any red zones. Two guys across the street are watching me bemusedly. They laugh when I tell them I suck at parking. No comments from the peanut gallery...

At the door is a line. A big line. We hear there is an hour's wait to get inside. Coyote's first song of the night, "The Rules", now begins to reverberate through the closed back door. If anyone else was playing, I probably would have turned and left at this point. But it's Coyote---I can't leave.

This is where the combat boots come in. I prefer to wear either those or motorcycle boots to any type of concert for two reasons: first, they are a hell of a lot more comfortable to stand in for hours than high heels. Second, and more important: they have traction on the soles, which enable the wearer to hold her position either at the stage (which I didn't need this night, thankfully) or in line (which I had to make use of).

Unfortunately, there are some adults, usually quite well-dressed and in masculine form, who were never taught as children that it is quite rude to cut in front of people in a line. I personally don't care if you're on your nifty little cell phone to God and the Queen Mother herself bought you that Armani suit---do NOT step in front of me when I am in line. You will find my sweet little Doc Martin's wedged between the toes of your Italian loafers and the heels of whoever is rightfully in front of me, and my non-Hollywood-starlet body forcing your Crunch-built abs and pecs back to where you belong. *steps off soapbox*

It didn't take an hour to get in, either. I paid my entrance fee during Coyote's third song, and made my way up to the front of the dance floor. The man caught me totally off-guard. Betweeen songs, he looks out over the sea of painted faces and speaks: "This next song is for New Wave Syd. It's about a stripper, but she goes by the name of Veronica."

Okay, so I'm a total goof. I can't help it, but little things like that mean a hell of a lot to me. Coyote recognizing me after a year's time, his making a big deal out of a girl's birthday...just the subtle ways he makes his audience feel much more a part of his show than just viewers. As I've said, this is a big part of his "star quality". He never gives the impression that he is above any of us, or that he is better than the average Joe. Apart from his music and his talent, this is what brings many of us back as often as we can make it.

The show itself was great, of course. During "If..." Coyote reclined downstage in front of an angry young man, calmly encouraging him to repeatedly scream "Fuck it!!!" into the microphone. He then climbed off the stage and went out into the audience, requesting people to let loose over the sound system. Coyote discovered one guy who hadn't voted...at this writing the Presidential election is STILL up in the air...and he let everyone know that "This young man did not vote! He did NOT vote!"

Even though he's not eligible by way of age and place of birth, I nominate Coyote Shivers for President. What the hell...I wrote in Randee of the Redwoods on the MTV ticket when faced with a choice of Bush Sr. and Dukakis. What a first election memory.....

Thanks to Dazza, here we see Coyote playing in England not too long ago. More photos coming soon!
(c) Dazza 2000, of course

This time, I was able to sing along with the songs, which made the show all that more enjoyable for me. And, yes, the songs still kick ass a year after I first heard them. They have that quality about them that makes the listener enjoy them time after time. Whereas Andy Prieboy's music is so orchestrated one's mind takes a subliminal journey each time it's played, Coyote's music is so forthright and raw it reaches our primal selves. Every one of us, whether male or female, can relate to his lyrics. Take any one of his songs, and every one of us can pinpoint some episode in life to which that song would relate. (Yes, even "Bisexual Girl", whether real-life or fantasy.)

Oh, but this is making me want to give examples. I'm crazy for that, you know. Go on. Seriously---go HERE...