Bring The Noise

Issue #32: The One Time I Took Anthrax to a Drag Bar in Columbus, Ohio.

Hi everyone, 

I’m working on Library Confidential, the memoir, and getting ready to release Garage Sale Vinyl on Bibliozona Books. As I promised in my last newsletter, I have a story to share with you as related to both projects - with an Anthrax twist. I’m writing this in real time for the newsletter; it is roughly drafted and will be edited and adapted for the memoir. 

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In 1993, I was 21 years old and living at home with my parents at their condo in Columbus. I’d moved back to Ohio the previous summer after spending two wild years in Los Angeles working with Megadeth, and then working for Metal Blade - as documented in my first book, Adventures of a Metalhead Librarian.

Upon moving back and needing a job, I started working retail, selling appliances and big-screen televisions on commission - and I started making the first decent money of my life. I was trying to figure out a future plan, and was having fun treating myself, finally, after being dirt-scratch poor for so many years. 

Two great things happened in August of that year: I bought my first brand-new car, and Anthrax did their first tour with singer John Bush of Armored Saint, who was a friend of mine from Metal Blade. He’d joined Anthrax the year prior, and I’d been super-stoked for him at the opportunity. They were out promoting their first album with this lineup: The Sound of White Noise

When I saw the Anthrax tour dates getting close by a few weeks, I called John at his 818 number and I left him a voicemail saying - hey, saw you’re coming through town, would love to say hello.

 He then left me a voicemail saying - hey, awesome, I’ll put you on the list with passes +1. 

Then I called him back on voicemail to say - hey, thank you, I’ll see you after the show.  

Then he called me back on voicemail to tell me - hey, we actually have a day off in Columbus the Sunday before the show, do you want to go have lunch?

Then I called him back on voicemail and said - great, let me know where you’re staying and what time to pick you up, and then he called me back with that information on voicemail –  and I met him in the lobby of the downtown Hyatt in Columbus at 1pm without ever speaking on the phone over that few weeks.

That’s how it was done in the days before cell phones.  

I drove us around Columbus in my new car - a silver 5-speed manual Mitsubishi Eclipse. I hadn’t really NEEDED a new car, but I’d upgraded from my 10-year old Honda and only increased my payments by $60. Financially, things were much better in Columbus than they ever were for me in Los Angeles, and slinging refrigerators and VCR’s was pretty easy. It wasn’t as glamorous as Metal Blade Records had been, but it was definitely better money. 

We chatted as I drove. He understood about money - he’d worked his fair share of day jobs for money between tours with Armored Saint.  He still had his old Hyundai, parked in LA while he was away. He was hoping to get a Mustang, maybe after the tour.

I took him to a great old brewpub in German Village, called Hoster’s. We both ordered a beer with our lunch and spent a couple of hours catching up. John is an easy guy to talk to and very unassuming - just down to earth and funny.  

After lunch, as I was dropping him off at the hotel, he says - the guys were thinking about going out for drinks later - are you up for doing something, maybe? 

And I said, sure, I can meet you guys somewhere or I can drive. Do you mind if my friend Kathy joins us?  Of course he didn’t mind. 

So, I called Kathy and we made a plan, I picked her up, and a few hours later we were back down at the Hyatt.  This time I parked the Mitsubishi and Kathy and I headed up to John’s room. It was bigger and much nicer than I expected. 

John opened the door and met Kathy and we settled in for a minute. He called Scott, who arrived a few minutes later, and then Charlie and Frank showed up. 

Charlie had a hot pink quarter-sheet promo flier in his hand for a new metal/rock n’ roll club in the Short North. Kathy and I’d both seen it advertised in the Columbus alternative newspaper but hadn’t been there yet. The club wasn’t too far away though - just a couple of miles north, up High Street, and south of Campus, where the venue for tomorrow night’s show was located. 

So, the six of us stood there in a loose circle on the fancy hotel-room carpet with sculpted roses and made a plan to go to this bar, and I looked at John and asked him - how are we going to do this? My car is pretty tiny. 

He was like, hey, guys, do you want me to call for a taxi, or do you want to cram into her Mitsubishi Eclipse? 

The three guys - Scott, Charlie, and Frank - were all in agreement - let’s cram into the Eclipse!

I wasn’t even sure 6 adults could cram into the Eclipse, but we did. Kathy riding shotgun, John riding bitch between us with the transmission between his legs, and Charlie, Frank, and Scott crammed into the backseat. 

As I put the car into reverse to back out of the parking spot in the parking garage, I racked John in the nuts with my elbow from the stick shift, which the other guys found hilarious, and it had us all cackling like old birds at stupid nonsense the whole way up High Street. 

I was laughing my ass off, but I drove very, very carefully. 

I found parking on the street near our destination and we extracted ourselves from the clown car. We approached the building where the club was located and noticed the throbbing dance music as well as a few people in drag milling about. 

Now, Columbus has always had an active LGTBQ community. There were gay bars all over the city, and for the most part, Columbus was considered a gay-friendly community. No big deal. 

We just didn’t know that the heavy-metal/rock n’ roll bar on Fridays and Saturdays turned into a gay bar/drag night on Sundays. 

Once we realized it, I was like, OMG, you guys, it’s a gay bar. I didn’t know they changed formats! Do you want to try somewhere else?

Of course, it was a Sunday night in Columbus - this was not an up-all-night kind of city. I had no idea if there were other “cool” bars to take Anthrax to, other than maybe a few campus watering holes that were nothing special. 

The guys in Anthrax could not have cared less about the gay-bar factor. They shrugged and laughed and were like - Heck no, let’s go in! This will be fun. We need drinks!

And so, we paid the cover charge - but the drag lady at the window recognized Scott and let him in for free. We emerged into a dark and pulsating night club full of disco balls and purple strobe lighting and people in costumes. 

We made our way to the bar and got our drinks and were kind of mingling in a circle and bopping in the sea of bodies, then that lady from that songs says:

“Everybody Dance Now!” 

Anthrax didn’t miss a beat. They effing danced. Someone may have break-danced on the floor. Kathy and I were dying of laughter at the edge of the circle around them. 

Charlie, Scott, Frank and John looked like they were having a blast and were being total goofballs. Not one ounce of rock-star pretension or weirdness at being in a gay bar. A few of the  Queens started noticing them - especially Scott, with his trademark goatee - and started fawning on them a bit - which was quite funny. The long-haired, hetero-metalheads just rolled with it and had a good time. 

We stayed for about an hour. Finally, the DJ played Anthrax’s Bring the Noise and it felt like a cue; upon its conclusion Scott looked at me and nodded and I knew he was ready, so we rounded up our group and Anthrax said lively goodbyes to the crowd. We made our exit, piled back into the Eclipse, and drove back to the Hyatt, all of us slightly buzzed.  I dropped them off at the curb and we made plans to say hello/goodbye the following night. 

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Their show the next night was at the Newport Music Hall - built in 1921 as the State Theater, it became an Agora, and then the Newport in the mid-80’s. It’s one of the longest-operating live-music venues in the country and it sits just across the street from the mighty Ohio State University. 

The Newport has hosted everyone - and I mean EVERYONE - who has played live music on tour in Columbus in the last 60 years. I’d seen dozens of shows there over the years and it still retains its historic, classical architecture. . 

It was my first time hearing or seeing the opener, White Zombie, and I was pretty blown away. 

Anthrax were their usual stompy selves, and maybe just a bit more melodic with John’s superior (in my opinion) voice. After the show, Kathy and I exited the venue and made our way around back to where the tour bus was parked. My car was parked nearby. 

We stood there for a minute, but then John poked his head out and had us come on board the bus. 

Everyone was starving; they were going to stop and get something to eat, and had to get on the road for an overnight to the next show. 

The bus driver knew his routes well and had chosen TJ’s Country Place - a local chain restaurant - which was located a few more miles up High Street, and close to the exit on Morse Road for I71 North to Cleveland. 

John decided to join us in the Mitsubishi as we followed the bus slowly up High Street. It had started raining pretty hard.  We all met up in the restaurant lobby, and this time, Dan Spitz - the other,  now former - guitar player, joined us, as well as a couple of their techs.  We took up a humongous booth and ordered a 2am breakfast, all of us damp, coming in from the rain. 

I have no clear recollection of what everyone ordered, but I know for sure what I ordered: The Barnyard Buster with extra sausage gravy. It was a “famous” local dish, and my go-to.  I may have influenced their ordering with my praise of it. There is only one Barnyard Buster, after all. 

The guys paid our tab and we bid farewell and safe travels to them. I’d stay friends with John for many years, but I’ve never run into any of the other guys in Anthrax, even though I have multiple friends who are very close with them.

They wouldn’t know me at all, either - unless they remember that one night out with John Bush’s friend at a drag bar in Columbus on The Sound of White Noise tour. 

This story is one I hold dear because it was so memorable and funny. They were cool guys, up for adventure and silliness, at ease in the world, and generous of spirit. 

And the reason I share this story is two-fold: Firstly, to finally document this event and put it in context as to where I was in my life as I stretch my memoir muscle for this next book, and secondly: to share a bit more recent Anthrax magic. 

As you know, Bibliozona Books, my imprint, is publishing an upcoming book called Garage Sale Vinyl, by Christopher Long. Our big release is 5/23, and we are so excited to get this out into the world. 

As Chris was putting the book together, he decided to send a cold email to Charlie Benante - well, to his publicist - to ask for a contribution on a specific artist, and Charlie responded straightaway to the request while on tour last year with Pantera. He sent a huge and generous email. We excerpted much of it for a chapter in Garage Sale Vinyl, which I will leave you to discover. 

(Don’t worry, I’ll send a reminder when we launch in 13 days!) 

Aside from Anthrax and Pantera shows, I haven’t seen Charlie, Scott or Frank in person since that last night in Columbus in 1993. 

Of course, I’ve seen John over the years - both back in LA while I was in grad school, and while he’s been out on tour. In fact, Armored Saint is rolling through town next week - and if I can force myself to stay up late, I’ll go say hello to my old friends and perhaps deliver a copy of Garage Sale Vinyl for their reading pleasure while on the road. 

There will be future editions of Garage Sale Vinyl, and I’d love to have more rockers contribute their commentary and thoughts as we put them together, so I’d like to get the word out. 

My vision for Bibliozona Books is to publish memoirs, essays, narrative non-fiction type books, with a rock n’ roll twist. Recently, I’ve thought about publishing a series  - essays about rock and metal bands written by fans and friends. Something like – “Love Letters to Alice in Chains”, or “Love Letters to Iron Maiden.”  

I kind of consider my first book, my memoir, to be a love letter to Mötley Crüe. 

Now that I think about it, in fact, this chapter could be my love letter to Anthrax. 

So, thanks guys, you were awesome human beings to me and I appreciate you. 

And thanks for your generosity with Garage Sale Vinyl, Charlie! 

I’d love to connect with Charlie personally to thank him for the contribution and to get him a copy of the book - and to share this fun, silly memory. It’s a small world. Some of my people are his people. 

I guess I could cold-email his publicist with all this.

But really, with all this? 

Do I have to? 

Yes, but until I do, I’m going to send out this newsletter and leave it to the Universe and my awesome network of friends. Please forward to the appropriate people as you see fit. Maybe we can make magic happen. 

Eventually - soon - I’ll bite my social anxiety and cold-email. I’m not good at it. I always feel like such an ass.

I was thinking I should title the email with something professional, like: RE: Follow up with Charlie on Garage Sale Vinyl Book. 

Or maybe I could try: RE: The One Time I took Anthrax to a Drag Bar in Columbus, Ohio. 

Which one would you open if it made it to your inbox?

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As a writer and an independent publisher, I appreciate any and all support as I share my work, and help other writers share theirs. Liking my newsletter and stories, buying books, and leaving reviews, following and amplifying on social media - it’s all HUGELY appreciated. 

Thank you for allowing me to haunt your inbox on occasion.  Please reach out with comments, questions, connections, thoughts. I’ll be emailing soon with more details about Garage Sale Vinyl.

Big love,

AMO

annamarieobrien@gmail.com

Kathy, me, John Bush, Los Angeles, 2000. This was before an Armored Saint show at the storied Troubadour!

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