THIS IS THE AGE OF NOSTALGIA.

OK, so like I was saying, I joined Facebook for some reason and within days was friendsterd by a couple dozen people who date back to my early 20s, a time of great enjoyment and strife for me that took many years to reconcile. Some folks I'd been in constant contact with since leaving East Lansing, MI, others I hadn't spoken to or even thought of in years, and then the photos started coming ... everybody apparently had cameras back then, I don't remember that part, but the deluge of memories has been jarring for me. Aside from the shock of comparing old and new versions of friends I'm still in touch with (when you see people on a regular basis, you don't quite see them age) and being faced with people I was once close to but now have no feelings for, there was the narcissistic thrill of gazing upon myself at such a vulnerable stage of my life. For better or worse, my personality took root in East Lansing and that's where I became the person I'd continue to be, so looking back to that age repels and attracts in equal measure. I was in as many places as I could be back then, so I figure in a number of photos, drunk, sober, on stage, at parties, with friends and enemies alike, and for some reason I seem to be wearing the same two shirts in all of them.

I was in a band then called El Smasho, and as we were the loudest thing going at the time, we ruled our backyard for a year or two. We released three 7" singles, played every fucking weekend and took out of town gigs whether it made sense or not (we went down really well in Flint, but otherwise crickets). We were at it for three years and change, a huge chunk of a person's life when that person is only 24 years old and doesn't have anything to compare it to ... the band set me on whatever path I'm on now, and while I cringe at many of the decisions I made then both social and artistic, there's nothing I regret. Looking back, I think I can say that El Smasho were a great band that wrote some pretty lousy songs ... on a good night we were enormous, but each of us wanted the band to do different things (except Tim, he just wanted to play drums) and we all had different ways of spending our free time, so it sputtered to a close in 1994.

These are the best of the El Smasho-related photos that have been recently Facebooked. So many doors I thought I'd closed, so many conclusions I thought I'd drawn ...


Gettin' serious at some co-op party. This photo ran on the front cover of the MSU newspaper's Welcome Week edition one year ... less a statement of our local popularity and more about having good friends who ran the rag.


Early attempt at "attitude." Utterly retarded.


Practice space.


El Smasho was protected onstage (and off) by The Smashettes, at first a trio but gradually a duo of broads far tougher than any of us pansies. Yes, they looked great, but they seriously earned their keep at crowded basement shows, standing in front of the band with their baseball bats and deflecting bodies when the energy of the pit got too strong. They were as much a part of the band as any of us, and we once pulled out of a show with a restrictive door policy that refused to admit the girls as bandmembers. After they quit, there wasn't much of anything left.


Early press shot. I had the flu that day.


Our first recd, featuring "Clown In The Family," the only song the four of us wrote together, and "Red Devil," the only song Brian and I wrote together.


Second release, with "Notorious," which I never thought much of back in the day but now recognize as a true teenage blues classic ... "I know I'll never stop loving that girl/But I hate her too much to be her friend." That's a great line, Tom.


Final vinyl. "Foster Brooks" might be the first honest song I wrote. With lines like "You fucking bitch, you put a spell on me" and "I'll marry anyone who wants me," I'm clearly taking a proud stand as an angry, confused, immature time bomb waiting to explode on someone's front door step at four in the morning. But my music is still my only revenge ... I have a few copies of this one left if you need one.


The Dave Hill often joined us on stage to showcase his own anarchic style of performance art ... that is, HIS LIFE.


Tom and me onstage at the 1993 MSU "Homegroans" show, a local rock fest that drew some 500 souls ... probably the peak of El Smasho as both a creative and a financial venture.


Terri and Brian onstage at the same gig.


Tom Deja and his hammer, same gig.


May I take a moment to point out that this is a pure, totally non-ironic action shot? I REALLY BELIEVED, MAN. I still do.