Where is my left foot?

I can remember looking at the review in Rolling Stone for X’s “Wild Gift”, reading it, and seeing the star rating, 4 stars out of 5, which for a “punk” album in RS highly unusual. I remember listening to it and feeling that special feeling, a certain intoxication, a certain vibration - tempting, exotic, vaguely erotic - like your first cigarette. They played in St. Petersburg after their next album, “Under The Big Black Sun”, at the St. Pete Jai Alai Fronton, with several a couple of local New Wave bands opening up. I went with Tom Lewis, natch, and I remember seeing Nadeem Khan there. The sound was crap, distorted, but the band was fab. On the ride home, Tom and I had to pull over on Hwy. 50, as we were too “sleepy” to continue driving. Our weed-induced state was apparently mild compared to the habits of our objects of affection, according to reports that came home with those that stuck around to talk to the band after the show. Cremora by the spoonful is like a magnet pointing to junky North.

Today “Wild Gift” is pouring out of the monitors in its mid-range glory. “White Girl” is on now, the product of a different session, no doubt, because the bass has some low-end meat in it. This reminds me that I first saw them on Don Kirshner’s “Rock Concert”, playing “White Girl” live in L.A., with the chromatic hook that started the romance.

I missed them when they came through a few years ago, due to young children, work exhaustion, and the venue, a smoky death trap. They’re touring again, hopefully back this way, I’ll make the effort to get there with a gas mask.

That feeling? It’s still there.