By: Doc Jeffurious
Author’s note: I was set to publish this account of a fantastic Lemonheads show in St. Louis—a night where the music felt right and the energy was electric back in January of this year. However, following the recent news regarding Evan’s health and privacy, as an Editor and as the Author I felt it was necessary to tap the brakes at that time.
Before being fans or writers, we are human beings. We are all beautifully imperfect, and there are times when we all need grace and support. Out of respect for the privacy and the lived reality of everyone involved, I chose to pause in that moment. Over many months, I have spoken to a multitude of truly wonderful fellow fans, I would say beacons of humanity. So this one is for those grand people! From the Gonzo Today archives, here is a piece offered with respect—a true love song from the heart.– Doc 9-13-26
Part I: Love Chant: The Review
After two decades, 90’s alt-rock darlings The Lemonheads return with Love Chant. The album picks up directly from their 2006 self-titled Red Album. Punky, yet soulful, Love Chant is eleven tracks of fun and yet sometimes deep catchy tunes that snare your humors and your heart.
The Lemonheads have been around since the heady days of 80s college radio and caught broad attention with 1992’s It’s A Shame About Ray. The Lemonheads have been a vehicle for frontman Evan Dando. Love Chant is full of Dando’s tasty rock guitar and his clever lyrics. Dando is joined by bassist Farley Glavin and drummer John Kent. Together they light the torch.
At the very word go “The 58 Second Song” pulls you into serious, double bubble rock mode. It is a head bobber indeed. It is a classic in tone and wit. The first single release from the album is the song “In The Margin,” is a snarky tune related to the abstract of revenge wound around Dando’s snaking guitar riff. Another highlight of the set is the song “Deep End” where you will find the mighty J. Mascis playing searing lead guitar. Also singing lovely harmony vocals is the wonderful Juliana Hatfield and the effervescent Erin Rae. Love Chant is chocked full of Lemonheads goodness. “Togetherness Is All I Am After” blazes forth to burn down your music space and settles lightly into a bittersweet and poignant plea from Evan. “Baby, don’t blow it”.
The arrival of Love Chant has been a long wait but most assuredly worth it. A true demonstration that Evan Dando and The Lemonheads never disappeared. Proving that there is something beautiful just around the corner. Love Chant can both wake up your neighbors and capture your soul.
Part II: The Concert
I have always approached live shows with a rigorous fanaticism. For an old music dork like me there is no greater thrill on this vast Earth than seeing a rockin’ show. The lights, the society of the crowd, the advanced volume levels! It delights and awakens various atrophied emotions. A hard-fast need to have one’s mind blown.
After a brief sojourn to the sleepy city of St Louis, Missouri one random Tuesday night, I dropped into town to fulfill that very compulsion: The Lemonheads at the elegant Delmar Hall. A throng of Gen X alt-babies adorned the line. A crowd of aging heavy hitters with ripped, faded jeans, dreadlocks (extensions), well-worn rock t-shirts, and the occasional cane. Look how young we all used to be.
The strategy was to arrive early to make sure I was on “the list.” Arrangements had been made through various channels that assured me of my presence as one of a few guests. After two rejections at the box office, I was not daunted. I had tickets so that secured my access to the show. So, I began plotting my next move. As I have grown older I have learned that some situations require a slight push against reality to operate in the “impulse zone.”
Inside as the stage technicians began fiddling about tuning guitars and the like, I slurped down the rest of my Bourbon neat then headed out for a smoke. Standing in the alley, secretly smoking a stinky joint of Acapulco Gold, the cold river wind ripping my tits off, I looked up and realized that I was staring directly at the open No Access Door. Ohhh! The plan was clear. Enter the door, act like you belong there. Fool proof. Desperate, but fool proof. Determined, I tossed my roach; the wind instantly caught it and carried it back to me in a mist of sparks. After dousing a barrage of small flames on my sleeve, I stepped forth! An appointment with destiny. We are all stewards of our own path, yet now it was time to get in the captain’s chair.
I was immediately discovered. I had been cornered just like this many times. My go-to is always to feign puzzlement. Surely overt senility could win here? Instead of the bum’s rush they saw the white beard, then smelled the weed, copped the pinhole burns on my jacket and saw the cane. A silly, stoned old man, not a threat. Their demeanor changed to pity when I told them that I had a ticket and that I just went into the wrong door.
“Ope! I wondered why things looked so different. I am so sorry. Haw Haw Haw!”
A member of the “Event Staff,” a little, older lady, escorted me back up to the box office. She asked me about my Christmas plans, and it was absolutely sweet. I felt mildly ashamed of my antics. Still, I had to try. I walked back in, smiled, waved at the person working the box office and shyly shrugged. Leaning against the bar I ordered another drink and thought about the possibilities in front of me. I arrived at the conclusion that I could pout. But no one likes a sour puss. Suddenly I remembered the perpetual words of Spicoli, “Hey Bud! Let’s party!”
After spending most of my gas money and emergency cheeseburger funds on merch, I went back to where my wife and children were sitting. Nothing crazy afoot, it was all normal now. Just lovable, weird, and wily Dad. There was a blank place on the left side of the stage. I swiftly heaped my records, patches, and stickers on the table. “My place! Move!” I thought as I grunted and hobbled my way up front.
The lights dimmed and it was showtime. Swaggering out on the stage was Erin Rae. Just her and her gleaming white Fender Telecaster. Hailing from Nashville, Tennessee, in her brown fringed leather jacket and cowboy boots her voice embodied the sound of sweetened perfection. She shared her soft spirit with the stories she would tell between songs as she tuned the Telecaster. The magic sparkled through tune by tune and then eventually a sing-a-long.
As Erin Rae walked off stage I offered a hearty “Thank You!” Then I turned to look at the crowd when the house lights came up. I saw all of us there. Because we were back then too. Former stage divers and alterna-babes wearing that “touch of grey,” flashing those eternal rowdy smiles. Alive with that undying zeal. It was quite a thing to witness. The glow never darkens in that old lantern.
As the lights went back down, Evan Dando appeared onstage and began dancing. Jumping and twirling. A wave of bliss overcame me as the band kicked off the set with “Roky”, into “Deep End”, and then “In The Margin” from Love Chant. When we hit “It’s About Time” off of Come On Feel several of us were in a full nostalgic swoon. Personally, I was absolutely gripped. My limbs became numb. All the ache in my large pain addled frame went away. I wrote “total elation” in my notebook. The exquisiteness of the sensation was not unlike falling in love over and over again a million times a second.
The band went into “Confetti”, and three hundred worn knees began to jump up and down. I glanced at the crowd, and they had all morphed into the young adults they once were. Alive, lit up and resolute. Bellies, beards, and bigger bootys. In that solemn moment we became a community. Tenured contestants of a forgotten generation.
As we moved through a smattering of classic Lemonheads tunes such as “Tenderfoot” and “Stove”, the band threw down a recent stand alone single “Fear The Living”. Then Farley and John walked off into the wings and Evan returned to the microphone donning an acoustic guitar. A solo set ensued as we all were still beside ourselves. Through goosebumps and tears of joy the crowd sang along with “The Outdoor Type” and “Frank Mills”. A duet with Erin Rae for Gram Parson’s “A Song For You” and a cover of Edwyn Collins’ “Low Expectations”.
The rest of the band came back out on the stage and wound us down with “My Drug Buddy” from It’s A Shame About Ray and directly ended the show with “If I Could Talk” off of Car Button Cloth. As “goodbyes” were expressed, it was over. All the lights roared forth, the crowd thinned quickly. I still had a couple of bits of earnest mischief to achieve. The first…yoink…take the setlist. The second was to go full “fan girl” and get an autograph. I spent time earlier laying on my version of charm towards the merch table vendors. I approached one, hat literally in hand as I produced a CD of It’s A Shame About Ray from my pocket. I pathetically explained that I bought it when I was fourteen and it would be “amazing” to have Evan autograph it after all of these years. I even had a marker. She said that she would check if he was still there, such an angel. Oh boy! Another gamble. Meh! Every time that you take a chance, your odds improve.
After stacking all of my souvenirs into a symmetrical pile, I began to locate my family. My wife asked if I was ready to leave. I told her that I needed a few more moments. She recognized the look on my face. I was up to something. The girl from the merch booth soon arrived and was smiling. Just as Evan was leaving he took a minute to sign the CD and they even laid some guitar picks on me. I threw my stuff at my family and seized the CD.
I have always approached live shows with a rigorous fanaticism. – Doc