We had been warned of trouble looming at a show in Fairfax, Va., a conservative suburb outside Washington, D.C. The gig was at the Patriot Center at George Mason University. George Mason, a father of the Bill of Rights, refused to sign the Declaration of Independence because it didn’t guarantee enough rights and freedoms. (Were he still alive, he’d be cast out of Virginia; although its state slogan is “Virginia Is For Lovers,” in 1994, Virginia had an anti-sodomy law.) The promoter told Green Day in advance that they wouldn’t allow us to play, that we were inappropriate; Green Day’s response to the promoter was that if we didn’t play, they wouldn’t play.
The promoter backed down, but when we arrived, he pulled me aside for a lecture. In a friendly-yet-stern way, he said our material was too mature for Green Day’s young audiences. He said that there would be eight-to-12-year-olds in the crowd. I asked why he was worried about our lyrics and not Green Day’s, which also have some references that might not be suitable. And who were these kids, anyway? What parents were letting their kids go to concerts so young? I told him, if they’re that young, much of what we sing about is going to go right over their heads; they won’t get it. But they’ll know they saw a gay band, and it will get them talking one way or the other. To us, that would be a victory, meaning we’ve infiltrated Pat Robertson country. This guy kept saying things like he had a lesbian sister, that he was for gay rights, but not in these circumstances. He said he was dreading the day-after phone calls from parents. I told him I had the right to sing about it, kids had the right not to be censored, and what we sang about was part of the world we live in. Virginia was a sodomy-law state; the discrimination was written into state law. To counter years of hetero propaganda these kids had heard—and would continue to hear—a few bad words and risqué songs wouldn’t do them any harm. This discussion went in circles for 15 minutes, until I finally told him it was a waste of my time. When we played, the reception was mixed but more supportive than I’d feared; it was the only show we played with Green Day in the South.
The apex of that tour was a gig at Madison Square Garden. The show was a multi-artist extravaganza: faux-alternative station Z-100’s Christmas bash. The lineup from top to bottom: Green Day, Hole, Weezer, Melissa Etheridge, Bon Jovi (gag, choke, splutter, barf), Sheryl Crow, Toad The Wet Sprocket, the Indigo Girls and us. When Green Day found out Bon Jovi was on the bill, they were fit to be tied. This was everything we had ever fought against. This was an alternative station? Z-100 tried to throw us off the bill, but Green Day said they wouldn’t do the show if we didn’t get to play. We’ll always be grateful for the many times they stood up for us that year.
