THE TUBES
KIWAUNEE COUNTY FAIR
August 1, 1997
Comments: Okay, here goes. Being your basic brain damaged and approaching middle-aged rocker, things have gone a bit soft already, but the story unwinds kinda like this. Bear in mind that the phrases "You can't get there from here," You're probably wondering why I'm here," and "Pakistani Motel" will all come into mind sooner or later. I should preface it all by explaining that when I bought the Tubes double live LP "What Do You Want from Live" in, um, 1978, I was so wired by it that I didn't sleep for about two days. I think my old college roomie and world's best friend Mike H. (see previous introductory entry in this guestbook) and I have seen the Tubes between us--and often together--upwards of 10 times since the late 1970s. That said, the Tubes played an unfortunately shortened set at Summerfest here in Milwaukee on approximately July 27. Mike, his very lovely wife Susan, my lovely wife Linda, and I dined on steak, er, beef jerky from my grill before heading off to the immensely crowded Summerfest grounds, applying liberal amounts of herbal balm while driving in from the burbs. We arrived in time to see the end of a performance by (was it really??) Three Dog Night, and sidled up for a long wait at the center fence before the stage. Unfortunately, according to Fee in his brief apology to the audience, the band was delayed enroute, and thus the show was on the short side for our liking, but still 100 percent Tubes. Also, as this was my first live exposure to "Genius" material, it was worth the wait. The main effect of the short show was to heighten our resolve to see them at the next location in the area, and this is where this long tale really begins. End of prologue. On Friday August 1, the Tubes we learned were set to play at some sort of festival grounds near Green Bay, Wisconsin. Mike took that day off and I used the opportunity to conduct business in the area and then catch the show. This is no small feat, as the business involved my annual visit to a wonderful toy collection housed quaintly in the moderately deep boondocks near Green Bay for my holiday story in Collecting Toys magazine. So it is a long and purposeful ride up from Milwaukee to this area, with absolutely no other reason to go. Mike endured the day's work gracefully, and finally at about 3:00 we left one corner of rural Wisconsin, and headed for another, some 20 miles away. Through various means, including personal calls to show promoters, we had learned that the Tubes were due to take the stage at a Festival in conjunction with the Kewaunee County Fair. This, even hearing it first hand, turned out to be a bit removed from fact. So we drove cross country, into ever deeper country, past one and another bathtub Virgin Mary on one farm house lawn after another, deeper and deeper into, well, definitely the wrong direction. Then, the country gave way for a nursing home, houses, a tiny main street, a couple of bars, and one sign on the roadway with an arrow labeled "Fair." We stopped at a gas station asking the useless question about hotels in the area. Yup, there weren't any. "You can go over to the lake (Michigan) where it's cooler," said the guy, "or you can go into Green Bay. It's about 20 minutes either way." We elected Green Bay, and headed for the road into the city, which, we quickly learned, was closed. So we drove 30 minutes to make about 18 miles. After nearly an hour cruising the outskirts of Green Bay for hotels, and passing it up once, we ended up in a tiny, or as Frand Zappa might have put it, "horribly foreshortened" room in a motel run by a Pakistani family. As it turned out, we had chanced upon nearly the last room in the city, as the next day was seeing a preseason Packers game. We unloaded our several thousand dollar toy cargo in the hotel room and set off once more for the tiny burg of Luxemburg, which was by now (5:00) just two hours away from Tube time. Once again we encountered not one, but two road-closed scenarios on the trip, which necessitated not even an indirect route to the fairgrounds, but a route all the way around the town in smaller concentric circles, which of course included return visits to some of the aforementioned bathtub Virgin shrines. At last! The town and a streetside parking space. At the ticket booth we finally learned that seats for the show were being sold on a reserved basis, not open as we had been told. Our best chances after all this time were six rows back. We took the $14.50 seats and in consolation, the fairground staff let us onto the fairgrounds literally through a side door, so we wouldn't have to cough up the extra $5 admission. Okay! here we are! But the Tubes were not to play at 7:00. The SHOW was to start at 7:00, but the first band was to be FireFall. Then would come Survior! And the Tubes were headliners! Terrific. Well, let's see what's on the midway. There's a velvet rug place, a cheap earring place, the 4-H barn, and some carney booths hawking ring tosses, dart tosses to win posters of Cindy Crawford, a local Kiwanis beer and burger stand, a ferris wheel, and a pocket-sized kiddie roller coaster, and, two more beer stands. The entire midway stretched perhaps 75 yards from end to end. And there at the end, were the locked gates for the grandstands. Through the fence we could see workers setting up the last folding chairs for the "good seats" directly on the dirt race track. We'd driven 150 miles to see the Tubes play a county fair in Hooterville! We retreated to the Kiwanis beer tent and struck up a fruitful friendship with a guy who, after our second $3 Miller each, began slipping us free beers. His explanation of the event summed it up admirably, "It aint the best fair in the world." What the hell had we gotten into? Then we looked around and noticed that in the hour we had been there, police officers from various surrounding towns had descended on the fair to ferociously interrogate every ice cream cone, hot dog, and funnel cake they laid eyes on. At one point in the early evening, cops literally outnumbered public by three to one. "Where are all the real people? Where are all the farm girls?" we asked our bartender. "Oh, they'll be coming along," he assured us. And trickle in they did, about 100 gangly or porcine teenagers for every remotely eligible bachelorette. Well, what would you look at at a county fair? As a final count, we ended up with roughly 500 holsteins and a grand total of four true beauties seen all night long. Lacking the fortitude to face Firefall, we passed more time and money at the beer stand, and did the same for much of Survivor as well, wandering into the stands only long enough to evaluate the crowd size and our chances of moving closer to the stage when the time came. It became apparent to us that most of the crowd had come for Survivor. We found this both amusing and scary. Even the members of Firefall, after finishing their set and establishing themselves flamboyantly at the gates, failed to attract any groupies. It fit the evening perfectly. After Survivor's finale, the crowd, completely satisfied, got up, went to the porta-potties, and never returned. By the time Fee and Roger came out to check their wiring, there were less than 250 people left, most of them in the stands. Mike and I walked up to the stage and began chatting with Roger and then Fee. Mike asked Roger if he realized he was playing a show in the Twilight Zone.Roger looked up briefly from his work to scan the crowd, and made a gruesome expression of resignation. We had no trouble securing position at the center of the stage, and were pleased when three genuinely lovely young local gals wriggled in beside us. The band took the stage and Fee made some generous comments about how beautiful the countryside was. Right, Fee. Wait until the 300 cops outside the fences hear the first strains of WPOD and we'll see how beautiful this place is. Ever see "Deliverance," boys? Then they started to play, the Tubes, on a racetrack, in one of the most godforsaken boonie towns of North America, for 250 people and 300 cops. They played "Mondo Bondage" first, as if to say, 'Here we are, slaughter us!' But municipal hordes failed to descend, and the band next introduced the title number "Genius." Clearly, ninty-five percent of this crowd was here becasue they wanted the most for their $14.50 and they would listen to anything to get it. The band then followed with "Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman," and then shortly after, a truly gorgeous performance of "How Can you Live with Yourself." Other numbers included "Tip of My Tongue," and several tour staples, but nothing really roused the audience until they did "Sushi Girl." (Hey Creep, pay something we can understand!) Fee threw himself into his work like a man performing for his life, and he still has every bit of vocal and evocative power that he has ever possessed. And Roger and the new guitarist (Gary?) were superb. Midway through the first three songs we passed Fee a fresh Miller, which he popped and foamed all over the fans immediately in front of the stage. The rest of the evening was spent listening and being "danced" by the young lovelies near us until we were transported to a place far away from the tawdry midway and the 300 officers outside the fence. Great live music has a magical quality like that. And despite their lack of the outrageous stage shows of "old," the Tubes still have everything they ever needed to be truly memorable. During a break between songs, the girls asked Mike and I where we were from. We explained we had driven hours to see this show, and one of themm sweetly asked me, "Did these guys used to be big or something?" I wanted to kiss her but I just laughed and said, "Oh yes, they used to be as big as it gets." I think the band then launched into "Out of the Business." Sing it,Fee. Sing it for these sweet young things. And 'til death do us part. Thanks for reading, all. See you in the first row. Chet