OPINION
Life In The ‘Noog
Band Aid, Chattanooga Style L
ast Saturday there was a benefit concert and silent auction for my good friend John Johnson. You may remember late last year I wrote a piece about his being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And because his medical bills continue to pile up, this was the third in an ongoing series of benefit concerts by local musicians who’ve rocked alongside John since the mid-’80s. Back in the day, John was the hellraising lead anarchist/singer of the legendary outfit Feast of Pigs. Cutting his musical teeth on Schlitz Malt Liquor and loaded questions, John led Feast amid infamous peers such as Hank, The Kreed, The Abstracts, The Value and others in seedy underground haunts like The Brew n’ Cue, Hollywood’s, The Go-Go Club, Nucleus, and The London Connection. John moved on to bigger and better things in the early ’90s, working in the film industry in San Francisco and Chicago before settling down in Austin, Texas where he lives today. In fact, we don’t see too much of John, although social media and good old-fashioned telephone calls keep the distance a little shorter. But even so, it’s nice when the old crew can all get together these days, and that’s just what happened last Saturday. Pancreatic cancer is one of the most outrageously difficult hands one can be dealt in life. It’s like gambling on a pair of twos with nothing showing. The odds aren’t really in your favor, but at least you’ve got a pair. So when John announced he was making the trip from Austin to appear at this benefit in person, we knew it was going to be special. Since all of the bands playing that night were made up of musicians John knows well from his time behind the mic, the night’s soundtrack had familiar sounds coming from familiar faces. That coupled with a “this is your life” audience made up of those who’ve loved John their entire lives made this gathering one none of us will ever forget—especially John.
Chuck Crowder
“When John announced he was making the trip from Austin to appear at this benefit in person, we knew it was going to be special.”
The last time since 1990 that I can recall this exact crowd of nearly 200 old friends in the same town, let alone the same room, might sadly have been just two years ago when John’s sister suddenly died. Like the celebration of Kelly’s life, this day we were celebrating John’s life still in progress, and paying living tribute to someone who’s touched our lives like few have or will. In a way, we were gathered to return some of the love he’s given us over the years, and just when he needs it most. Speaking of sharing the love, it wasn’t hard to convince even those outside of our ranks that we needed to do everything in our power to make the financial burden a little easier on John and his wife Dawn. Richard Lloyd of the legendary New York
band Television donated two free guitar lessons to be auctioned off. Chris Franz and Tina Weymouth of Talking Heads and Tom Tom Club donated autographed CDs and instruments for the auction. And everyone among John’s friends bid heavily on crap the others had lying around in their closets just to exchange memorable items and have an excuse to give John a little green. Priceless though, is the feeling of love for John that swelled JJ’s Bohemia (nearly) beyond fire code limits and engulfed everyone lucky enough to be around him that night. All night everyone embraced John and each other as if we’d just then realized that the memories, friendships and people we sometimes take for granted won’t be there forever. The last band to take the stage in John’s presence was The Unsatisfied, who he’d helped nurture early in their career some 25 years ago. Lead singer Eric Scealf directed just about every second of his performance toward making John smile and cheer just like the old days. At the end of their set, they played the song that—at least in local band folklore—was purely John: The Stooges’ “I Wanna Be Your Dog.” As the band flawlessly blazed through the song’s seemingly endless three chords, Scealf summoned the spirit of Iggy Pop’s voice and stage moves just like John had done more than two decades before. As he looked on smiling, we all knew that this would be a shining memory John would carry with him through every shitty moment of his struggle with cancer. When the song was over, and John gave his last few hugs before turning to leave, there wasn’t a dry eye on even the toughest exterior in the house. We all knew that wherever life takes us, it might not ever be in the same direction again. Chuck Crowder is a local writer and general man about town. His opinions are just that. Everything expressed is loosely based on fact, and crap he hears people talking about. Take what you just read with a grain of salt, but pepper it in your thoughts. www.chattanoogapulse.com | July 7, 2011 | Volume 8, Issue 27 | The Pulse
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