Evocation of a fan

This happened some time ago, in the pre-Internet times, when I had a punk band, integrated by human beings, and we played gigs mostly for our friends, and got ripped off by most of venue owners (I'm sure the scene has improved a lot since then; OK, end of sarcasm).

It is easy to remember this guy, therefore, because there weren't others like him. He appeared out of nowhere in one concert, nobody knew him, he came alone, he wore glasses and looked a bit of a weirdo (I've found often that my music is a great weirdo magnet -a fact that I don't intend consciously, but which I find glorious).

I'm trying not to idealize too much here, so I think maybe he came only to two, three concerts tops, before our band imploded for the usual reasons a band implodes when you are in your twenties and decide to form a band with your buddies.

But to me something like this happening was so moving... The guy used to stay on one side of the hall, where he could get a good visual, paying a lot of attention, and pointing towards us, with great seriousness... a tape recorder!!!

You can be sure there was no pecuniary reason involved for that, given the zero notoriety, profit and even sympathy that we commanded in our environment in those times. No, it looked more something in the lines of  "god, I need more of this shit".  Like the guy who lives in a desert, and when he visits a fountain, brings with him a big container he can fill. How do I know so sure? Because I've been that guy too, in other contexts, with other people to whom I will forever feel in debt.

There were other moments like this in those days, but this one is perhaps the one I recall more fondly. Having been that person for someone is something that gives me goosebumps even right now, as I write. Like I always say, I have to make music, I would do it under any circumstance, it's like breathing to me, I cannot not do it. But what a great bonus is when something like this happens. What a great fucking bonus.