Because the ad said that Dex Romweber would begin at 9 PM, and because we thought we would arrive in time to have a drink and survey the surroundings before the show actually began, my friend Steve and I arrived at The Basement at exactly 9 PM. Big mistake. Save the drummer for one of the two opening duos—who was fiddling with one of her cymbals—we were literally the only people in the bar. No other patrons, no other musicians, and no bartender. Steve literally had to walk outside to find someone to sell us a beer.
I hadn’t seen Dex (formerly of the Flat Duo Jets) play in years, and, if no one was going to show up at this show (two opening bands before Dex played and no one was here?), I wasn’t quite sure I could stand to stick around either. The whole thing had the feeling of a depressing nightmare from which I wanted to slink away. And had I been alone, I may well have done so.
“What must it be like,” Steve asked, “to play in places like this for all these years?”