Monday, September 30, 2013

Ruminations on Danzig

Danzig.

I stood there waiting for the show to come on, thinking about my original introduction to Danzig, an introduction made to me by my oldest best friend, a girl I met in the gifted program when I was all of 8 years old. I think Danzig entered our lives when we were 12 or 13 and began our self-righteous/smart girl/goth outcast period. (It was not a phase.) We would sit in the cafetorium (yes that is what it was called) and listen to Danzig, wearing black and upside-down crosses, with black nail polish and doing our best to sneer at everyone else because it was either that or always be at the end of someone’s wrecking ball. High School. We were the abnormals: well educated, well read, sexually aware, and smarter than everyone else and they knew it. Were it not for the fact that they thought we sacrificed babies in our spare time, the jocks, cheerleaders and more socially normal crowd might have made a point of letting us know that the knew it. As it was they didn’t. We had Danzig.

One morning we were sitting and trading back pieces of porn we had authored or books we had read (being that we would either read trashy smutty pirate porn or write our own) and got into a long conversation about how the guitarists in Danzig really turned our various wheels. This lead to us decided to have a Danzig festival on our next sleepover, which was at my house something like a week later. My parents were gone most of that night, and somehow I had managed to vanquish my siblings somewhere, and Iz (yes, that was her name) and I sat in the living room watching Danzig videos while describing in vivid sexual detail the things we would like to do to them. That and eating ramen was how we spent a of these sleepovers.

Which was all well and good until suddenly the VCR started to eat the Danzig tape and it got stuck.

“Shit,” said Iz.

“Shit,” said me.

The last thing either of us wanted was for my parents to find out we had broken the VCR while talking about masturbation over our devil-worship music. We spent a frantic forty minutes taking apart the VCR with a screwdriver until we finally managed to free the video tape in question, which finally popped out, film all twisted, and gigantic smiling skill with horns looking up at us accusingly.

We put in an old copy of The Little Mermaid, as I recall, and went to my room to hang out and talk and laugh about it until sleep claimed us.

Danzig is one of the few happy time memories of my childhood. Iz and I owned Danzig until around 1997, when “Mother” became such a huge hit and suddenly everyone was trying to horn in our isolated creepy goth schtick. It was fine with me; by then I had moved on to Nirvana, Sonic Youth and the Violent Femmes, so high school could suck it.

Danzig.

I was going to see Danzig live.

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