Podcast appearances and mentions of mark wheat

Sermon- Arguments - Assurance, General, Psalm 6-Mark Wheat, Tyler Orthodox Presbyterian Church-2024-07-21

Sermon- Arguments - Assurance, General, Psalm 6-Mark Wheat, Tyler Orthodox Presbyterian Church-2024-07-21

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Appropriating the Feast Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - AM Date: 3/31/2024 Bible: Psalm 22:22-31 Length: 36 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Proper Estimation of a Covenant Child Subtitle: Raising our Children Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - AM Date: 11/5/2023 Bible: Psalm 78:4-7 Length: 36 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: The Word of God Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - AM Date: 10/29/2023 Bible: Nehemiah 8:1-12 Length: 41 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: The Fellowship of Finances Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - PM Date: 10/16/2022 Bible: Acts 2:42-47 Length: 25 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Samuel's Life and Leadership Subtitle: 1 Samuel Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - PM Date: 9/4/2022 Bible: 1 Samuel 12:1-5 Length: 32 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Election: Preparation for Communion Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - AM Date: 6/19/2022 Bible: 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10 Length: 35 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Good Shepherd OPC is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Two Different Classes of Preachers Subtitle: Philippians Speaker: Mark Wheat Broadcaster: Good Shepherd OPC Event: Sunday - AM Date: 6/12/2022 Bible: Philippians 1:12-18 Length: 38 min.

Mark Wheat, Sunday PM, December 12, 2021- -Pain and Prayer- - 1 Samuel 1-1-16

Mark Wheat, Sunday AM, December 12, 2021- -Zechariah's Song- - Luke 1-67-80

Mark Wheat- 11-24-21- Psalm 77 - -The Way Through Suffering-

Mark Wheat- 10-31-21 Morning- Matthew 9-1-8 Jesus' Authority to Forgive Sin

Mark Wheat- 10-24-21 Evening- Jonah 3. Jonah Preaches

Mark Wheat - 10-24 AM- Matthew 8-28-34 - Sin and Salvation

Mark Wheat - 9-12 PM- Psalm 23 - The Committed Shepherd

Mark Wheat - 10-17 PM- Jonah 2 - Jonah Prayed

Mark Wheat - 9-19 AM- Psalm 32 - See How He Loves You

Mark Wheat - 9-19 PM- Psalm 23 - Psalm 23 is about Real Life

Mark Wheat - 10-3 AM - 1 Peter 5-6-7 - Casting Your Burdens Into God's Mighty Hand

Mark Wheat - 10-3 PM - Jonah 1-1-3 - The Book of Jonah

Mark Wheat - 10-10 AM - Jonah 1-1-2-1 - Jonah Flees from the Lord-

Mark Wheat - 10-17 AM- Matthew 8-23-27 - Upon Closer Association

Mark Wheat - 9-26 PM- Psalm 23 - Psalm 23 is about Real Life -Part 2-

Mark Wheat - 9-12 AM- Matthew 8-18-22 - Jesus' Authority and Discipleship

Good Shepherd OPC-Sunday, September 05, 2021, AM Service-Sermon title- Our Hope-Text- Hebrews 10-19-25-Mark Wheat

Mark Wheat left The Current in May 2020, but not before recording an interview with Cecilia Johnson for The Current Rewind. In this conversation, Mark talks about how he got a star on First Avenue's wall, how music intertwines with his spirituality, and what he sees as his greatest impact on Minnesota music.

Most casual Prince fans know Purple Rain was partially filmed at First Avenue. But did you know the title song is a live recording, taped at First Ave a few months before filming started? In this episode, we meet Prince and the Revolution at a benefit show for Minnesota Dance Theatre, where they debuted "Purple Rain" in support of dance and community. This is the fourth episode of The Current Rewind's "10 Pivotal Days at First Avenue" season. If you missed the first three episodes, catch up below. • April 3, 1970 (The day it all began)• Nov. 28-29, 1979 (The days that told the future)• Sept. 27, 1982 (Bad Brains/Sweet Taste of Afrika/Hüsker Dü) Transcript of The Current Rewind season 2, episode 4: "Aug. 3, 1983" ["Purple Rain" chords, but trembly and slowed-down. After several seconds, the music snaps into the original version, and we hear the lyrics, "I never meant to cause you any sorrow/ I never meant to cause you any pain."] Mark Wheat VO: After three episodes and 13 years of First Avenue's history, we've arrived at the song. The song that evokes an artist, a movie, and to some, a period of mourning: "Purple Rain." ["Purple rain, purple rain" fades into "Hive Sound" by Icetep] Mark Wheat VO: [over theme] I'm Mark Wheat. This is The Current Rewind, the show putting music's unsung stories on the map. For our second season, we're exploring the history of First Avenue, the downtown Minneapolis venue that has become one of the Twin Cities' – and the country's – greatest clubs. Most casual Prince fans know that scenes from the 1984 movie Purple Rain were filmed at First Avenue. The version of "Purple Rain" that you hear in the movie and the soundtrack was recorded live at First Avenue, but not at the same time the movie was filmed. Just a few months before the cameras rolled, Prince hadn't yet written the song. He first performed it on August 3, 1983 at First Avenue, during a benefit show for the Minnesota Dance Theatre. He had the show recorded, and when we listen to "Purple Rain" today, we're hearing him and the Revolution play it live for the very first time. In this episode, we'll explore the story of that song and that amazingly unique one-off performance, along with Prince's relationship to Minnesota Dance Theatre – a tale that captures Prince's ethos as a musician and a community member. So far this season, guest hosts have lent their voices to each episode of Rewind. But by this point, the coronavirus pandemic has complicated our production. So we here at The Current will step in to host a few episodes, including this one, which I was quite fond of from the beginning. It takes place when I had just moved to the United States, for good, in 1983. [rewind noise] Mark Wheat VO: The early 1980s were a transition moment in Minnesota music. Artists from two different local scenes were breaking out. On the indie rock side, the Replacements and Hüsker Dü were stirring up mosh pits all across the country. And Prince had just become a national star through the success of his fifth album, 1999. David Z: I mean, it was exciting, because Prince was our local star, and he had the beginning of success before this. I mean, he did do Dirty Mind. Mark Wheat VO: This is David Z, Prince's longtime producer – and brother of The Revolution drummer Bobby Z. David Z: So I mean, he wasn't a nobody, but he wasn't internationally famous at all. It was kind of a local thing, and we were all happy because we always wanted somebody from Minneapolis to make it. Mark Wheat VO: And before the world knew Prince's music – along with his slides, splits, spins and pelvic thrusts, he studied ballet with Minnesota Dance Theatre. [audio of a Minnesota Dance Theatre rehearsal] Mark Wheat VO: Renowned choreographer Loyce Houlton founded Minnesota Dance Theatre in 1962. They still teach classical and contemporary dance, and over the last 50 years, they've presented one of the best-attended performances of The Nutcracker in the country. In the '70s, the theater participated in Minneapolis Public Schools' Urban Arts Program, which Prince joined as a high school student. After Loyce's passing in 1995, her daughter Lise Houlton took over as artistic director. Lise Houlton: My mother and Wally Kennedy were developing this program in the Twin Cities for those us of who didn't fit in the traditional academic life. That's how my mother met Prince, through the urban arts program. And I think that she saw immediately that he had a special spark, that there was something – she used to talk about the combination of this insatiable appetite and this sadness that came together in some sort of combustion of energy, and I think because she had a similar quality that they had this common ground. Mark Wheat VO: You can catch the dance moves he mastered in Minnesota in some of his music videos. Lise Houlton: In the ballet world there's a step that's challenging and that we all have to do, and it's called an entrechat six, and it's where you do three beats in the air. You jump up, you do three beats and you land. Prince could do an entrechat six, and you learn that in a ballet class. That's not an instinctive move, because you do it with turnout, which is unnatural to the human body. He did tour en l'airs, where you jump in the air. Tour en l'airs. He did pirouettes with excellent placement, and that was combined with his jazz aesthetic and already his own personal grind. Mark Wheat VO: A few years after Prince graduated, Minnesota Dance Theatre needed financial help, and Loyce decided to get back in touch. As the Star Tribune reported at the time, she found out where Prince was staying in town and stood outside, waiting to ask if he could do a benefit show. Lise Houlton: But that was her style. If she believed in somebody, if she wanted to have a connection with an extraordinary talent, she did that sort of thing. That was her reputation as being a little bit crazy. But I think once again, that's where Prince and my mother saw their connection. Mark Wheat VO: Prince said yes, and First Avenue hosted the concert. Right after Prince played "Little Red Corvette," his biggest hit to date, Loyce Houlton took the mic to thank him for his support. It was guitarist Wendy Melvoin's first time on stage with Prince – and therefore, the first time the Revolution's classic line-up performed together, even though they weren't billed as such. Along with Prince and Wendy, there was drummer Bobby Z, bassist Brown Mark, keyboardists Lisa Coleman and Matt Fink, aka Dr. Fink. It was also the night Prince recorded "Baby I'm A Star," "I Would Die 4 U," and "Purple Rain" – right there at First Avenue, live. David Z: And you'll see that there's not very much added or changed to the original performance, especially with the song "Purple Rain." Mark Wheat VO: It was normal for Prince to have David record his performances, so no one expected anything unusual to happen. David Z: Nobody really knew there was a movie coming out. We just thought it was gonna be a live record, or whatever. Mark Wheat VO: And as Dr. Fink recalls, it wasn't the most comfortable environment. Matt Fink: We all knew it was a hot, muggy summer night and that First Avenue would be packed, and it would be very uncomfortable for older people to be standing in there. And we were right, 'cause we were all drenched with sweat within two minutes of taking the stage, because that's how hot it was in there. The air conditioning wasn't keeping up. It was back when people smoked cigarettes in clubs. So not only did you have [Dr. Fink laughs] all the heat and humidity and bodies and cigarette smoke, but it was just very difficult to be comfortable. Mark Wheat VO: According to First Avenue's records, about 1200 people bought tickets to the show. On an average night in 1983, a Mainroom show would run about five bucks, but tickets to this benefit were $25 – the equivalent of about $60 today. Including staff and an extensive guest list, about 1,500 people were in the club that night. First Avenue manager Steve McClellan was just trying not to overpack the place. Steve McClellan: I had to go and tell people, except for the really important VIP list, it's not good for you tonight. Because my goal was to keep my list under 100, Prince's was supposed to be under 100, Minnesota Dance Theatre was supposed to be under 100. That night that all went blowin' in the wind. The guest lists poured in, and that's why that night, everybody says, "Well, why didn't you watch the show?" I remember between having to get the numbers together – because I thought I would have to pay the Minnesota Dance Theatre that night, so I had to get all my costs together. Because it was a $25 ticket. We'd never done a $25 ticket before. And so I knew that the money was gonna be big. Mark Wheat VO: When we had Steve and veteran doorperson Richard Luka in for an interview, we asked Richard what he was up to that night. Richard Luka: I was at the back door, and I could see everything from behind. "Why isn't he playing anything familiar here? What the hell's this stuff?" And but then there also this people going in and out through the garage to this truck that was out there. Turns out they were recording everything. Nobody knew that there was gonna be a movie within a year or so of that. None of us knew. That's why when you come back to a night like that – well, you know, it had sort of a cultural impact further down the line. But when you're in those moments you don't know that. So it's like, "This jerk just wants to get inside right now." No. You're Prince's cousin. Aren't we all. No, you can't come in. And we're dealing with things on an interpersonal level like that, whereas up there they're doing this thing that's gonna be here, and then it's gonna go out all over the world later. Steve McClellan: I do remember hearing "When Doves Cry" the first time. There were certain times when I was able to stand and go, "Oh, pretty good." But, you know, life goes on. Mark Wheat VO: Maybe Steve and Richard didn't get to experience the full show, but Prince fan Heidi Vader couldn't tear herself away. Heidi Vader: It was so hot, so hot and so crowded. Mark Wheat VO: When the band played "Purple Rain," the crowd didn't know what to make of it. Heidi Vader: The song seemed to go on forever. So the audience was – you know – listening. They were paying attention, but nobody was freaking out and excited. And it was nothing like the movie, and nobody had all their costumes on, like in the movie. [Heidi laughs] Mark Wheat VO: According to Dr. Fink, Prince and his band had just started practicing "Purple Rain" a couple of weeks before the show. Matt Fink: Prince didn't write that one 'til the very end, which is more about like mid-to-late July of '83. He brought that song to the group. He hadn't finished the lyrics. He hadn't finished the melody. All he had was the chord structure and he came to us and said, "Ok, let's try this; let's just start jamming on this chord progression I've got for this song." And then we all coalesced into what you hear live. And even at that live show, he improvised his guitar solo somewhat. [about 10 seconds of the "Purple Rain" guitar solo] Matt Fink: He wasn't playing it exactly like he did it every time at rehearsal. Nor was I playing my piano parts exactly the same at rehearsal that evening. It just did what it did. Mark Wheat VO: Kevin Cole, a former First Avenue DJ who now hosts the afternoon show at KEXP in Seattle, remembers there being cameras that night. Kevin Cole: At that point in time, we were experimenting with filming sessions, or, filming performances at the club, that we would then give to the band. So there's footage floating around out there of that very first performance from a different perspective. [cheers from the live bootleg fade up] Kevin Cole: One of the cameras is to the left of the stage and above the stage, looking down, kinda right where Prince was playing from. And it's remarkable, but you're also seeing the audience. People are just stunned watching that song. Mark Wheat VO: In fact, the crowd was so quiet, David Z had to tweak the recording. David Z: When it came time for the movie, I cheated and put a crowd from the Minnesota Vikings in the audience track. Mark Wheat VO: Because technology at the time couldn't record wireless bass well, Prince added in some bass overdubs. Heidi remembers the song being long because it was. Prince cut five minutes and still ended up with a nine-minute song. David Z recorded the show in a truck from the New York-based Record Plant, which was considered the best in the industry at the time. Meanwhile, director Albert Magnoli was working with Prince on the early stages of a movie, which didn't have a name yet. He and Prince had gone through about a hundred songs that could go into the movie, but Magnoli felt they were still missing a piece. Al Magnoli: Interestingly enough, there was no "Purple Rain" in that 100 songs. Mark Wheat VO: During a recent trip to Minnesota, he elaborated in an interview with The Current host Jill Riley. Al Magnoli: So I went to him, after I lined up what I thought was the storyline and lined up the songs...and said, we're missing the song – that catalyst, in all of this journey – that song that releases you finally to become the person you should become. And he said, ok, I got another song to write. Mark Wheat VO: The director came to town to scout out locations for the movie and hear new songs from the band that night. When he heard "Purple Rain," he knew it was the one song he needed. Our producer Jackie Renzetti called him up and asked him why "Purple Rain" worked. Al Magnoli: Well, it had the right pacing and it had the right lyric content. It had the right soulfulness and emotion. And it wasn't like anything he had done before. To me, it was a unique sounding piece, and that's what I was looking for. He obviously knew he had that song when I said we didn't have the song. So he didn't immediately say, "Oh, I've got a song that would fit the bill." He didn't say that. He performed it, not realizing that I would approach and then say that could be the song. I said, "What's it called," and he says, "'Purple Rain,'" and then there's a pause, and he says, "Could we call the movie Purple Rain?" and I go, "Yes." Mark Wheat VO: By the end of the night, Prince had raised $23,000 for Minnesota Dance Theatre. That's the equivalent of about $60,000 today. Although Prince would go on to perform dozens of philanthropic acts – giving to music education and coding programs; buying houses for his band members; and paying medical bills for loved ones – few of them would be so public. David Z: He would give money to people without trying to use it as publicity. Nothing! And then he would do charity, but in his own way of the true meaning of charity, which is not get all these people recognizing you for it. He just did it and didn't want the recognition. He just wanted to do a good thing and pay it back. Mark Wheat VO: Our producer, Cecilia Johnson, asked The Current host and Prince expert Andrea Swensson to put his giving in perspective. Andrea Swensson: Prince was raised in a really pivotal time just in history, during the civil rights movement and during the political uprising that was happening in North Minneapolis in the 1960s. His mother was a social worker. He was also partly raised by Bernadette Anderson, who was a huge community figure. [She] worked at the YWCA and was just really admired as a leader. I mean, Prince's philanthropy goes back to the very beginning of his career. I remember his bandmates telling me stories of, even on their first couple of tours, they would squeeze in shows to play at community centers or play for the Deaf or do something out of their way to give back to the community. It was clearly something that Prince really valued. And that went all the way up until the end of his life, when he was funding projects like Yes We Code, and sending money to Baltimore, and honoring Freddie Gray in his music. He just had that spirit in him. I think it really goes back to coming up in North Minneapolis and being so involved in the community there and being raised by community leaders like Bernadette Anderson and like his mother, Mattie Shaw. It was just part of who he was. Cecilia Johnson:: So what else was going on in the early '80s when Prince was starting to have this huge rise, in terms of philanthropy or giving or like celebrity? Andrea Swensson: Yeah, well there's "We Are The World," which was a huge moment culturally, as all of these stars came together to record this song. There was Live Aid. U2 coming up – that was something that they really preached, and I think it just became part of the pop music culture, that in order to be, like, a good citizen, that if you were successful, that you should use some of your power and your money to give back. But also, Prince was very discreet about his generosity. He did not do it for his own name or reputation or personal brand. It was just something that he valued, and especially later on as he became more religious, explicitly, with converting to Jehovah's Witness, it was a huge part of his faith as well, that that was not something that you were supposed to advertise. That's not why you give. That's not why you give money or help people in the community. You do it because it's important and because you value it. Mark Wheat VO: We might not ever really know who all Prince helped. But we know he donated to a lot of programs centered on youth and community. At the Circle of Discipline in South Minneapolis, Sankara Frazier wrote a letter to Prince asking for funding to help keep his community boxing program going. Prince ended up making multiple contributions over the years. Our producer Jackie visited Circle of Discipline to ask how Sankara felt when he got the checks. Sankara Frazier: I wasn't surprised. I wasn't surprised. Prince helped a lot of people. He saw what we were doing, with all of the young people and our older people. We have – you know, the community comes in here. And he saw what we were doing, community-wise, we're putting a lot of people together, people that wouldn't be together, you know? This right here, the boxing, was something that they grew up around. He didn't box – as far as I know, he didn't didn't box – but they know the importance, and how it develops a lot of the youth into better people. Worthy cause. We're working with the community. Mark Wheat VO: Sankara was part of Prince's community from a young age. As kids, he lived with Prince and André Cymone, one of Prince's best friends and earliest bandmates. Speaking with Jackie, Sankara used the phrase "behind the scenes" to describe Prince as a community member. But although his actions may have been discreet, they were full of love for his cities. Sankara Frazier: Oh, Prince was, he was down for Minneapolis. He was down. All of the people that had opportunities and stuff that were with him, they got him here. You know, so he decided to put this on the map. That's why, you know, even making Purple Rain, he's putting Minnesota on the map. Yeah, I give him credit for that. Mark Wheat VO: To Lise, Prince's support of Minnesota Dance Theatre has been about more than just the money. Lise Houlton: He's continuing to have an impact on Minnesota Dance Theatre, because every time this subject is brought up, Minnesota Dance Theatre is right there in the story, and once again, for me, having been so surprised with this event that happened in the '80s when I was far away, to feel those repercussions still is such a gift. Mark Wheat VO: His legacy continues to inspire community work, especially among his longtime fans. Heidi Vader, who saw the August '83 show, told Cecilia that she sensed a vacuum in the fan community after Prince's death. She wanted to unite people behind something healing. So in 2017, she started a music education program called Purple Playground. Each summer, Purple Playground runs a two-week music camp where young students write their own music and record it. They also hear from guest speakers about Prince's legacy and what it's like to be a professional musician. [Purple Playground's song "Purple Playground" plays for several seconds] Heidi Vader: They write, like, five or eight songs, and then we record them. And we put them out, and they're on our website. And we ended up with these inspiring songs about supporting each other and loving yourself and believing in yourself, and all this stuff. That's what we were hoping but we didn't know it would happen – you know. They come in, these kids who – a couple of them knew each other, but a lot of them don't know each other. And then they're, immediately, like within an hour, they're like "Let's do this," back and forth, and yeah. So some of the songs will make you cry. ["Purple Rain" "twinkling" arpeggios and cymbal washes from the end of the song, with cheers from the audience. Prince tells the crowd, "We love you very, very much. Good night!" "Hive Sound" by Icetep fades up and plays under the credits.] Cecilia Johnson VO: And there you have it. Mark Wheat's final contribution to The Current and The Current Rewind. This episode of The Current Rewind was hosted by Mark Wheat. It was produced by me, Cecilia Johnson, and Jackie Renzetti. Marisa Morseth is our research assistant, and Jay Gabler is our editor. Our theme music is "Hive Sound" by Icetep. This episode was mixed by Johnny Vince Evans. Thanks to Brett Baldwin, Rick Carlson, Shelby Sachs, and David Safar for additional support. If you liked this episode, check out the series Prince: Official Podcast, which is produced by The Current and the Prince Estate. It's available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and beyond. We work really hard on all these music history podcasts, and if you'd like to give back or say thanks, we'd really appreciate reviews on Apple Podcasts or a donation via support.mpr.org. If you have any comments or stories you'd like to share directly with us, send them to rewind@thecurrent.org. The Current Rewind is made possible in part by the Minnesota Legacy Amendment's Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund. It is a production of Minnesota Public Radio's The Current. The Current Rewind goes to First Avenue

Sept. 27, 1982: Bad Brains/Sweet Taste of Afrika/Husker Du Almost 40 years ago, D.C. rockers Bad Brains played First Avenue with two Minnesotan openers: Sweet Taste of Afrika and Husker Du. While Husker Du are relatively well-known today, Sweet Taste of Afrika are all but forgotten. Meanwhile, Bad Brains are world-famous, but their hurtful behavior has flown under the radar. In this episode, we tease out the complicated relationship between the three bands on the bill, their genres, and their identities. This is the third episode of The Current Rewind's "10 Pivotal Days at First Avenue" season. If you missed the first two episodes, catch up below. • April 3, 1970 (The day it all began)• Nov. 28-29, 1979 (The days that told the future) Transcript of The Current Rewind season 2, episode 3: "Sept. 27, 1982" [Bad Brains' "Banned In DC"] Cecilia Johnson VO: D.C. rockers Bad Brains are among the best-known hardcore bands in history. They're famous for their live shows. Imagine a scene like this: [volume inches up] Cecilia Johnson VO: Lead singer H.R. is flailing, his voice curdled from screaming, and drummer Earl Hudson rides the cymbals hard. A song later, the band dips into reggae. The kids who were moshing just a minute ago are now letting their shoulders slump, swaying from side to side, until Dr. Know fires up the guitar again, and the audience churns back into a pit. Maybe you've experienced this in person, maybe you've just heard about it...but whatever's the case, for a lot of people, Bad Brains are one of the only Black rock bands they've heard of. Let's talk some more about that. [Icetep's "Hive Sound"] Cecilia Johnson VO: [over theme] I'm Cecilia Johnson, and this is The Current Rewind, the show putting music's unsung stories on the map. For our second season, we're exploring the history of First Avenue, the downtown Minneapolis venue that has become one of the Twin Cities' – and the country's – greatest clubs. [Icetep's "Hive Sound" crescendos, plays for several seconds, and fades down] Cecilia Johnson VO: So far, we've seen First Avenue evolve from the Depot to Uncle Sam's to Sam's. For this episode, we'll jump ahead to 1982, when Bad Brains, Sweet Taste of Afrika, and Hüsker Dü shared the Mainroom stage. We set out to tell a story about one of the most revered bands in punk music. But we ended up learning a lesson: that while representation is definitely necessary, if you treat individuals' identities as their virtues, you can actually allow them less humanity – and excuse the harm that they've done. Honestly, this episode presented a lot of challenges, and we want to let you in on them as we tell this story. So let's do that. I'm super excited to introduce our guest host for this episode. She runs the show Rock and Roll Over at the University of Minnesota's Radio K and her name is Zoë Challenger. She's definitely one of our youngest guest hosts this season, but I can already tell she has a ton of talent and wisdom to share with the world. Here she is. [rewind sound effect] Zoë Challenger VO: I'm Zoë Challenger. Being a Twin Cities native, I am embarrassed to say that my first concert at First Avenue was when Noname came to town in January of 2019. I was 19 years old, and I went alone. While I grew up with a desire for musical exploration, I did not grow up in a musical household by any means. I told my parents I was going with a friend, when in reality, I couldn't find anyone to go with me. So I draped my mother's elegant hand-me-down wool coat over my plaid skirt, crop top, and tattered stockings. I let the material confidence override any underlying social anxieties. As an only child, I've never been afraid of being alone, but walking into a venue by myself brought up new feelings. Since that night, I found myself at the First Avenue Mainroom or the 7th St Entry nearly once a week until the coronavirus pandemic hit the nation. Most of the time I would arrive alone, but over time, I would find myself running into more and more familiar faces at any given show. Maneuvering the block of 7th Street and Hennepin Avenue will always be an act of muscle memory. Over the last 50 years, First Avenue has hosted a variety of big names, but the early 1980s were jam-packed. From 1982-84, the calendar swerved from funk to punk to New Wave, with acts ranging from talkbox legends Zapp & Roger, to Minnesotan rockers the Replacements, to Bow Wow Wow, the band behind "I Want Candy." That's not to mention Prince, U2, Ray Charles, and a then-unknown Wynton Marsalis. But if you were to look through the 1980s First Ave band files that are now housed at the Minnesota Historical Society, you'd struggle to find a particular category of artists: well-known Black American rockers. The Minnesota music community has a lot of excuses for this, the most common one being, "There weren't that many Black rock bands to book." It's true that funk and soul were much more popular among Black Americans, especially those raised in the church. But it's too easy to say that Black rock wasn't a thing. In fact, according to those band files, rock-adjacent bands War, Ipso Facto, and Defunkt played First Avenue in the early '80s. But aside from the Historical Society files, those shows hardly left a paper trail, whether in microfilm archives or the internet. Which brings us to an issue at the heart of this story: which legacies last and which fade away. The story of Bad Brains is fairly well-established. The D.C. group originally banded together in the 1970s as a jazz fusion ensemble called Mind Power. After going to a Bob Marley concert and hearing the Ramones' song "Bad Brain," they were influenced enough to change not only their name but also their sound, ending up with a mix of punk rock and reggae. At this point, a pattern was beginning to form with Black musicians who dove into punk music; they were often eclectic in their genre-molding and evolution. In Minneapolis, local punk bands who'd been performing at bars like Duffy's and the Longhorn had a new room to fill: the 7th St Entry, a small space off the side of the First Avenue Mainroom. Steve McClellan: And there was just, say, we got this empty room. It's a storage area. Zoë Challenger VO: Around the same time as he opened the Entry, general manager Steve McClellan hired Chrissie Dunlap, who ended up booking the space. Chrissie Dunlap: I started out just 100 percent Steve's assistant: You know, his desk (and office generally) was just filled up with contracts, riders, promo material, you know, label stuff, cassette tapes everywhere. And I would go in there and just try to prioritize things – tell him, "This needs to be signed, this, you gotta do this." And then I would just sorta take the promo material and start promoting shows. And as time went on, a lot of that detailed stuff ended up leaving Steve's desk and [moving] over to my desk. The bands would start calling, looking for gigs, and, you know, I started out giving the info to Steve and kinda working on him with it, but he was busy doing the real talent buying, and I was there during the day more when the phone rang and people stopped by with cassettes and stuff. So I just kinda, little by little, picked it up. Zoë Challenger VO: One of the bands Chrissie would book – a lot – were Hüsker Dü, the St. Paul punk group who opened for Bad Brains at First Avenue. But that's not a huge surprise; in the '80s, they were playing upwards of 60 shows a year. Hüsker Dü guitarist Bob Mould wanted to tell us all about this era, but right when we were producing this episode, he was actually called for jury duty. While Bob did his civic duty, we grabbed a clip from the audiobook of his memoir, See A Little Light: The Trail of Rage and Melody. Bob Mould: We started the spring tour in the Midwest, with our four-year anniversary gig at First Avenue in Minneapolis. First Avenue was originally a bus depot in downtown Minneapolis. It became a nightclub in 1970, and 7th St Entry was the coat check before becoming its own 300-capacity music room. First Avenue had been a cornerstone of the Midwest rock scene for years, and to play the 1,200-capacity main room was the goal of many a Midwest musician. Zoë Challenger VO: Along with Bob, bassist Greg Norton and drummer/songwriter Grant Hart recorded their debut album Land Speed Record at the Entry in '81, and they released it via New Alliance in January 1982. Bob Mould: The band always played with purpose – there wasn't a lot of goofing around in the live shows. On the faster material, Greg would start jumping in the air or do scissor kicks. I typically wore a grave, glowering expression, digging deep into my guitar when not singing. Grant was behind the kit, looking much like Animal from the Muppet Show band, except with longer hair and bare feet. We were young and inexperienced, but we had tons of energy and were able to create a solid wall of sound. Zoë Challenger VO: In selecting this show as one of First Avenue's pivotal nights, we were excited to focus on the positive, celebrating punk heroes Hüsker Dü and Bad Brains on one bill. But it didn't turn out to be that easy. Bob Mould: There was a loose network, which we often discovered by chance, where like-minded bands would share a stage and the hometown band would offer accommodations to the traveling band. In return, when that band came to your town, you would reciprocate. Sometimes you'd run into a band that didn't understand or appreciate the idea. When Bad Brains stayed with Grant and his parents, they took Grant's pot and left behind an antigay note. Some gratitude. But once people caught the drift of those bands, they were usually shunned, and eventually they faded away. Zoë Challenger VO: Bob and Grant's sexualities were open secrets in the Minneapolis punk scene. Bob would come out as gay in a Spin article in 1994, and Grant is on record talking about his bisexuality around that time. Bob and Grant wanted to avoid becoming pigeonholed for their identities. But when you consider the scope of their experiences – and how scary the AIDS crisis was – their angry, frenetic catalog takes on new meaning. [Hüsker Dü's "Pink Turns To Blue"] Bob Mould: Gays in the hardcore punk scene were much like gays in the military. If the military says, "Don't ask, don't tell," the hardcore punk collary was, "Don't advertise, don't worry." If someone made a disparaging remark about gays, I would simply say, "That's not cool," or, "You're so ignorant." It was a way of making my feelings known without broadcasting my sexuality. Generally, there was no more homophobia in the hardcore scene than anywhere else in America, although as 1981 progressed, the media began reporting on the "gay cancer," and homophobia escalated throughout the country. Numberwise, the hardcore scene didn't seem any more or less populated by homosexuals than most major cities were. Then again, the scene attracted the margin walkers, the folks who were outside the norms of society, so maybe there was a slightly higher ratio of gays to straights. Zoë Challenger VO: According to several sources, Grant wasn't the only person Bad Brains mistreated. Lori Barbero, who drummed and sang in Babes in Toyland, remembers similar behavior toward Randy "Biscuit" Turner of Texas punk quartet the Big Boys. Lori Barbero: Think they did the same thing to one of the guys from the Big Boys down in Austin, Texas, because he was gay. And I heard kinda the same story. And it's like then don't – if you know they're gay, why would you even stay at their house? Zoë Challenger VO: In Finding Joseph I: An Oral History of H.R. from Bad Brains, punk rock activist Mark Andersen also mentions the band's mistreatment of Biscuit. He echoes Bob Mould's thoughts on margin walkers: quote, "Weren't we all in the punk rock underground because we were all different, and because none of us felt like we really belonged out there?" In 1989, Bad Brains released the song "Don't Blow Bubbles," which guitarist Dr. Know described as an "angry warning to homosexuals." One chorus goes, quote, "Don't blow no bubbles and we can stop the AIDS/ Don't blow no spikes/ Don't blow no fudge buns/ Ask Jah and he'll make the change." By this point, 100,000 cases of HIV/AIDS had been reported in the U.S., and the public health crisis would get much worse before the government approved the first antiretroviral drugs in 1995. It's shocking to hear H.R. cite "P.M.A" – Bad Brains catchphrase "Positive Mental Attitude" – in the same song as he encourages, as a fundamentalist Rastafarian, that non-straights pray the gay away. In 2007, bassist Darryl Jenifer addressed the band's past worldview with some remorse, saying, quote, "Damn right, I was a homophobe! [...] You have to grow to be wise." As more details about Bad Brains' homophobia came to light, the Current Rewind team weren't feeling too good about focusing this episode on such a disappointing group. So we turned to the third band on that night's line-up: Sweet Taste of Afrika. Before learning about the show, I had never heard of that band before, and neither had our producer, Cecilia Johnson. But we were excited to learn that they're from the Twin Cities. Joe Shalita: So I came to the Twin Cities in the '80s and I've been in – you know – participating in the music and art industry all that time. Zoë Challenger VO: This is Joe Shalita, Sweet Taste of Afrika's lead guitarist and the man the Twin Cities Daily Planet has called "the face of African music in the Twin Cities." He grew up in Uganda and moved to Minneapolis in 1979. Joe Shalita: When you grow up in Africa, you have – music is a big part of our culture – people are tilling the garden, they're always using music to till the garden or till the land. Whether they're chopping trees down, they're gonna be singing along. [Shalita laughs] Zoë Challenger VO: And when he got to Minneapolis, he found a small but strong African music scene. Joe Shalita: In those days, really, there were a whole lot of live bands, live groups of almost every genre, but Simba was the original roots-reggae band in the Twin Cities. And then there was the calypso band, which was Shangoya with the late great Peter Nelson. Then there was Sweet Taste of Afrika, which was our band, which performed strictly African music. [Sweet Taste of Afrika's "Children of the Nile"] Joe Shalita: Hassan [Omari] was our lead singer, and then there was Mr. Robert Mpambara who was on bass. He's still in the Twin Cities. I was on lead guitar and also singing, and then there was Mr. David Mutebi from Uganda also. Mr. Mpambara was from Uganda; I was from Uganda; Mr. Mutebi from Uganda. So the Ugandans dominated the band. [Shalita laughs] He played rhythm guitar. And then we had native Minnesotans who played. We had the late Paul McGee on percussion [and] Mr. Ben Hill on drums. Zoë Challenger VO: In 1980, the band helped organize an event called Afro Fest. But most of the time, they had to rely on white bookers to let them onstage. Joe Shalita: We were really stubborn, because getting into First Avenue was not easy. And I know personally, I kept harassing Mr. McClellan – Steve McClellan – and I'm sure he got tired of listening to my voice – "Is that Joe Shalita calling again?" [Shalita laughs] Steve, wherever you're listening – it's true, because I kept bugging him all the time, said, "You gotta give me a chance! Come on, man. How many times do you have an African band on your stage?" And then, fortunately, First Avenue started having these big African stars coming in to grace the stage. They had, like, Tabu Ley Rochereau was like one of the superstars of Africa [who] came to First Avenue, and I think that opened their eyes, too, to say, "Ok." I was young in those days. But eventually they let us open for some artists – Bad Brains being one of them. Zoë Challenger VO: Sweet Taste of Afrika spent a little time in the studio, but to Shalita's knowledge, none of their music was ever released to the public. Joe Shalita: There are some YouTube videos of Sweet Taste of Afrika. Have you seen them? Cecilia Johnson: I have seen them! They're so good! Joe Shalita: I know! I was skinny, with a huge Afro. [Shalita laughs] I think David and Hassan may have some recordings, but I don't have any myself. I just look at those ones on YouTube and marvel at the quality of the sound and musicianship. I was like, "What?" [Shalita laughs] Zoë Challenger VO: According to Joe, the band had some creative differences, and they broke up in 1982. Joe found work as a roadie, then learned a little sound engineering, then formed his own band, Shalita, which lasted until 1999. He rarely performs these days, but he's planning to retire in a few years, and he dreams of returning to music. Joe Shalita: Art doesn't have an age limit. That's a good thing about art. Zoë Challenger VO: After learning about Sweet Taste of Afrika, we got to thinking about the Black rock artists who work in the Twin Cities today. Some are relatively well-known, having placed in "best new band" polls or opened for bigger acts. But sooo many of them have never been in the spotlight. And as we've learned while relying on microfilm and internet archives this season, the press has the power to preserve artists' legacy. So we decided to talk back to this narrative. Our producer Cecilia met up with a few Minnesota Black rockers – Matt Slater and Himes Alexander of the Smokes, plus Nadi McGill of Gully Boys – and asked them, what musicians inspire you? What constitutes a good legacy? What do you love about rock music? Nadi McGill: Um, I feel pure joy. It's like I can feel the oxytocin rushing through my body. It feels really good. Zoë Challenger VO: Nadi drums and sings in the Minneapolis rock band Gully Boys – who've performed in the First Avenue Mainroom and many times in the Entry. [Gully Boys' "New Song No. 2"] Nadi McGill: I'd always wanted to drum. My mom said no when I was a child, of course. A past partner was a very good drummer, and he had two [or] three drum kits, so I just sat down at one of the drum sets he had set up at his house and just started playing. Cecilia Johnson: What do you think of when you hear somebody talking about rock, or like, what is rock to you? What do you feel when you're listening? Nadi McGill: Everyone's playing their own instrument, like that's – the sound you hear is the sound that is being put out, and I think that's really cool. I think that's a really awesome aspect of rock. Zoë Challenger VO: Although they're a young artist, Nadi is already thinking about legacy. Nadi McGill: I will always be loud about what I believe in, and I'm always willing to be corrected, and I just want to be known and remembered as someone who used whatever platform that I had to make Minneapolis a better and safer place. For all people, but mostly femmes – fat femmes, femmes of color – in whatever space they choose to occupy... Every opportunity that we have, I try to encourage femmes to join a band, and then I specifically make a point to encourage Black femmes to join the band, because I feel like there is a lot of gatekeeping, and there is a lot of tokenization that happens, which is very annoying. I think the best way to kinda combat that tokenism and gatekeeping is to just be loud about it, and rock music is a great way to be loud about it. And you kinda just make your own space. Zoë Challenger VO: Nadi says they've taken inspiration from other Black rockers. Nadi McGill: I was obsessed with this band called Dance Gavin Dance when I was younger. I really was into pop punk music and a little bit of emo music, and Dance Gavin Dance I loved, and then I found out their guitarist was a Black musician, and I was even more in love, because it's very rare for me to see anyone who looked like me, not only in the crowd at the shows that I would love to go to, but on stage. Also, The Smokes locally? Two Black amazing punk rockers. And my favorite is that Matthew, the drummer rocks an Afro while he's playing. They sing about racial experiences that they've had. And then I appreciate that they're transplants as well. They're not even from here, but they kinda came here, and they were like what's up, like we are here to rock. So that's amazing. Cecilia Johnson: [laughing] We are here to rock. Nadi McGill: Honestly, like they really did. I remember I saw them for the first time. It was, like, maybe a week or two weeks after they had moved here, and I was like, "Welcome! Welcome, let's do this," like, "Y'all came like riding on the pavement 100 miles per hour," and I was so stoked to have them here. [The Smokes' "2 I Luv" (demo)] Himes Alexander: Black pride is something that's difficult for a lot of people to swallow, but is inevitable as you look at the influence that Black culture has had on American society, especially. Zoë Challenger VO: That's Himes Alexander of the Smokes, a two-piece garage/punk/indie/soul band who've been performing together for about five years. Himes and his cousin Matt Slater grew up in Spokane, Washington and moved to the Twin Cities in 2017. They've learned from many Black artists around the world. Matt Slater: This is a really broad one to start with, but I really love Fela Kuti. I've always loved Fela Kuti for lots of reasons. I've got like a soft spot for funk, and he was like a – just comes off as like this African king to me. And then jumps around musically so freely, like, just like feels the spirit of the music. And it was like, oh my god. This music is so Black, so free, and so it like captures his voice so well that like even now I hear it and it just like it makes you feel good, inspires to actually say something – say something real, and it doesn't have to be like a downer. Himes Alexander: I'd like to talk about a collective like Odd Future who has a bunch of different bands, a bunch of different projects coming out of the same collective, and there's a wide range of eclectic taste when it comes to all of that. You know, Steve Lacy is doing some sort of indie thing. The Internet is electronic R&B or – and even goes outside of that, and [Earl] Sweatshirt and Tyler the Creator are enigmatic, like you can't really hold them down to one thing. Matt Slater: And then there was the drummer from – god, why can't I – Himes Alexander: Yellowcard? Matt Slater: Yeah, the drummer from Yellowcard. Who cares about Yellowcard? [The Smokes laugh] The drummer from Yellowcard was this Black dude with dreads, and it was like hell yeah, I wanna do that. I literally – I was like I didn't even like their music. I was just like yes, cool. Zoë Challenger VO: The Smokes have brought up several musicians who made an impact on them. For me, Whitney Houston, Nina Simone, and Janis Joplin have probably been my biggest musical influences. Years after Houston's death, her friend Robyn Crawford told The Guardian about their queer past, saying, quote, "Our friendship was intimate on all levels." Both Simone and Joplin also held relationships with both men and women. And going back to the beginnings of rock and roll, artists like Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Big Mama Thornton, and Little Richard experimented not only with instruments and genre, but also with their sexualities. Many beacons of musical creativity have occupied many different identities – there is no "prime" or perfect human being, whatever H.R. or anyone else might say. Like it or not, Bad Brains are part of rock history. It's true that their actions were garbage. But it's also true that they inspired members of Fishbone, Rage Against the Machine, ho99o9, and many more groups to make rock music. They played First Avenue during a complicated and sometimes tense time in the club's history, with respect to race. Many of the Black bands who played there were not supported by press, radio play, or strong ticket sales, and community members noticed. In fact, one of the people who would've been paying attention was Prince. Cecilia Johnson VO: Thank you, Zoë. In 1983, the year after the Bad Brains show, Prince would take the First Avenue stage to change the club – and music history – forever. As we'll see in our next episode, the artist who catapulted First Ave from a well-known local rock club to an international destination was a genre-fluid Black rocker. And that was no coincidence. [Icetep's "Hive Sound"] Cecilia Johnson VO: This episode of The Current Rewind was hosted by Zoë Challenger and me, Cecilia Johnson. I produced this episode, with research and consulting by Taylor Seaberg. Marisa Morseth is our research assistant, and Jay Gabler is our editor. Our theme music is the song "Hive Sound" by Icetep. This episode was mixed by Johnny Vince Evans. Thank you to Brett Baldwin, Rick Carlson, Matthew Gallaway, Dirim Onyeneho, Jackie Renzetti, David Safar, and Jesse Wiza for additional support. If you'd like to learn more about Hüsker Dü, check out The Current's five-part podcast Do You Remember. If you enjoyed this episode, please rate and review our show on Apple Podcasts, or tell a fellow music fan it's out there. To get in touch, please send an email to rewind@thecurrent.org. To find a transcript of this episode, go to thecurrent.org/rewind. And thanks for rolling with these mid-season changes. We have one more episode hosted by Mark Wheat next week, and after that, we'll share a bonus episode about his personal connection to First Avenue. I miss him already, and I know you might, too. The Current Rewind is made possible in part by the Minnesota Legacy Amendment's Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund. It is a production of Minnesota Public Radio's The Current. The Current Rewind goes to First Avenue Rock and Roll Book Club: Bob Mould's 'See a Little Light'

Nov. 28-29, 1979: The days that told the future Disco was the ticket at Uncle Sam's in the late '70s. But the club's destiny changed course in Nov. 1979, when the Ramones and Pat Benatar rocked the Mainroom on back-to-back nights. In this episode, hosted by Zoo Animal's Holly Hansen, we learn how First Ave became a rock 'n' roll sanctuary. This is the second episode of The Current Rewind's First Avenue season. If you missed the first one, catch up here. Transcript of The Current Rewind season 2, episode 2: "Nov. 28-29, 1979" [Pat Benatar, "Heartbreaker"] Mark Wheat VO: [over Benatar] It's 1979, and Pat Benatar is on stage at Uncle Sam's, jumping up and down with a microphone in her hand. The crowd has been waiting for this one, the single from her new album, and as the guitar builds, so does the energy on the floor. ["Heartbreaker" fades up for a few lines, fades down while Icetep's "Hive Sound" fades up] Mark Wheat VO: Like most emerging rock stars, Pat is wearing all black — and behind her, a guitar crunches through the chorus. From the dance floor to the balcony, people are cheering and nodding to the beat. For us, this is a glimpse of the past — but people at that '79 Benatar show were seeing the future. As Pat performed at the Uncle Sam's disco in downtown Minneapolis, the club's corporate management had their eye on an exit. Thanks to her and others, the venue's next chapter would turn out a lot less Saturday Night Fever and a lot more rock and roll. I'm Mark Wheat. This is The Current Rewind, the show putting music's unsung stories on the map. For our second season, we're exploring the history of First Avenue, the downtown Minneapolis venue that has become one of the Twin Cities' — and the country's — greatest clubs. In our first episode, we covered the beginning of First Ave's life as a music venue...which hit a few bumps right away. When the Depot filed for bankruptcy in the summer of '71, it stayed closed for a year — before an out-of-town company turned it into a disco. That scheme stayed alive until 1979, when two rock shows — the Ramones and Pat Benatar, playing back-to-back nights — set the table for First Avenue's future. For this second episode, we're excited to introduce Holly Hansen, the musician behind Zoo Animal. Holly will help us tell the story of First Ave's second incarnation — as a suburban disco in the middle of downtown Minneapolis — and the people who, in 1979, turned it into a, quote, "New Wave Experience." [rewind noise] Holly Hansen VO: The two most vivid memories I have of First Avenue both involve intimacy, but in very different ways. I was standing at the side of the stage during a Kevin Drew show, and a stagehand made eye contact with me and waved me over. Next thing I knew, I was slow-dancing with Kevin on stage, thinking, "Why me?" I seriously think there are many people in that room who would've loved to be on that stage holding his sweaty body, but here I was, simply being a good sport. [Zoo Animal's "Black and Charred" fades up, plays under VO] Holly Hansen VO: A few years later, I released the Zoo Animal album Departure, some of the most personal music I'd ever written, and the release show was at the 7th St Entry. I don't know how to explain what was going on that night, but it felt very different. It was so quiet and focused; it was like the audience took up part of the weight of the songs. I had never felt so connected with an audience before or since. I feel myself at First Avenue because it's ready for any experience, always centered on music. It's a place where no matter who you are or what you like, the audience and performer can be one. In the late 1970s, First Ave wasn't known as a venue for intimate performances. And then punk happened. Back in the summer of 1972, the Depot had been shut down for a year. Then, in July, it reopened under new management. Instead of a black exterior, the former Greyhound station was now painted red, white, and blue. The Depot's owners hadn't sold the company, but American Avents, a company based in Cincinnati, took over its operation, turning it into one of several Uncle Sam's franchises throughout the U.S. Chris Riemenschneider: I think they had like eight or nine by the time that Uncle Sam's opened here. Holly Hansen VO: Chris Riemenschneider is the author of First Avenue: Minnesota's Mainroom. Chris Riemenschneider: And in fact, the first year or two of the Uncle Sam's, they struggled a bit early on, apparently. But one of the things that really helped it was in maybe about '75 or '76, they changed the liquor law to — Minnesota went from 21 to 18 and up, drinking, and obviously, that was a big boost to the place. Andy Sturdevant: By the late '70s, you've got the heyday of kind of the seedy downtown Hennepin strip. Holly Hansen VO: Andy Sturdevant is the co-author of the book Closing Time, a history of Twin Cities bars. Andy Sturdevant: Like, that's the place that you're talking about when you're going to school and the taunt that you hear is, "Aw, your mom works on Hennepin!" This is that era. And so, you've got that whole strip, and there's still a couple of bars just barely hanging on from that older era. But you've mostly got strip clubs; you've got porno shops; you've got clubs. That's where the gay bathhouses are. Holly Hansen VO: And Uncle Sam's was one of the roughest bars near the Hennepin strip. The manager was a U of M dropout named Steve McClellan. Steve McClellan: My name's Steven McClellan, and I worked in a nightclub downtown from 1973 to 2004. [4:00] Holly Hansen VO: Steve met with The Current Rewind's producer, Cecilia Johnson, for two separate interviews. For the first, he brought LeeAnn Weimar, First Avenue's former director of marketing. For the second, he came with Richard Luka, who started as a doorperson and ended up designing First Ave's logo. Steve had a story about everyone. [supercut of Steve McClellan exclaiming names: "Dave Ahl. Tom Spiegel! Cara Lewis. Gary Rue! Pat Lyons. Kevin Sadowski [ph]. Mark Downey!"] Holly Hansen VO: And as you might hope, Steve McClellan is one of live music's biggest fans. One of his favorite quotes is from Frank Zappa: "Once you record it, you've sold out." He says he picked up this attitude as a college kid. Steve McClellan: I'm a West Bank guy. I remember when people would go to the West Bank when I was going to the U. I lived on the West Bank from '68, '69 to '73. And you had five, six venues doing live music. Holly Hansen VO: Steve was on the West Bank attending the University of Minnesota, but dropped out in the mid-'70s. Before that, though, he started working the bar at Uncle Sam's. Steve McClellan: My feeling is in '75 they put me in management training. I had been bartending probably since late 1973. And after they sent me to the management-training thing, I was ready to go back to school. I was fed up with the corporate nature of it. And then I came back, and I was pulled out of training early because Pat Lyons, who was managing Minneapolis at the time, got promoted. They pulled me out of training and gave me First Avenue. Holly Hansen VO: Even after Steve's promotion, he and his bosses didn't always get along. Steve McClellan: You wanna get me on a rant when I put the first black doorman at the door when American Avents hated it, and all the people involved couldn't believe I had a black doorman? Ah, women in management — I put a woman named Marsha Lear in the Uncle Sam's management program, and I wish I could find her again, because I owe her an apology. American Avents was totally not gonna have a female manager back in the '70s and I realized I sent her — I went through their management program. It's a good old boy network. I hated it. But looking back and seeing how their management meetings went and all that, it would be like you were being run by a — I never went to a fraternity, but back in college I always thought they were kind of a weird group — frat guys. Pretty elite group, they drink a lot of beer. And my image of that whole upper management at American Avents reminded me like they were all from Buffalo, New York. It was one big frat running the company. Holly Hansen VO: The music at Uncle Sam's was largely DJs playing safe pop hits, as dictated by the national office. Chris Riemenschneider: They had this deal where there would be DJs with a live drummer, and this was actually where Bobby Z, later of Prince and the Revolution, first played the club. He was like 18 or 19, on dance night, and, you know, just playing along to recorded music. They used to have another guy, Denny Craswell, who performed with a jungle theme. He had drums built like into, like, logs — it was like this jungle vibe. Pretty cheesy stuff, from what I can tell, but it was a big hit. They only had concerts once in a while — they would bring in some local and regional stuff. And then later on, after McClellan got a little more involved, in the late '70s they brought in stuff that was more Top 40 . . . [Starland Vocal Band's "Afternoon Delight": "Skyrockets in flight/Afternoon delight"] Chris Riemenschneider: . . . that stuff didn't do well. Holly Hansen VO: One feature at Uncle Sam's that brought repeat business was its Sunday-night teen dances. One of the regulars there was the future Time member and hit-making producer Jimmy Jam, as he told Pete Scholtes of City Pages in 2003. Jimmy Jam: Yeah, it was a disco, and it was packed, man. I know they had at least a thousand people every Sunday. There was a crowd, that was sort of a roller skating crowd that I used to hang out with at the Roller Gardens, and I think the Roller Gardens was like a big Friday night thing. So you'd go to the Gardens on Friday night, and Saturday there was a whole lot of different options, and then Sunday was always Uncle Sam's. But it was a lot of the same people you'd see, just kinda from my circle. I went to Washburn High, and so all sort of that crowd from there. But really, the crowd came to Uncle Sam's from everywhere. I mean, back when Hopkins was really a suburb and like seemed like it was on the other side of the world, kids from Hopkins and Minnetonka and Wayzata, and it was basically like a sort of a melting pot of races and ages, but mostly a lot of cute girls, and it was just a fun place to hang out. Holly Hansen VO: The history of disco is complicated, and although it has roots in black and queer culture, Uncle Sam's' version was decidedly mainstream. Chris Riemenschneider: At that point, it really wasn't city kids as much as a lot of the suburban kids were coming downtown to hit Uncle Sam's. It kind of was that kind of place, yeah, a little bit more of a shot bar kind of vibe, and that's when they had the Firecracker drinks, which apparently was just basically red food dye or red coloring and vodka. Nobody talks about those drinks fondly, but for some reason, they were ubiquitous there, and people still have the Firecracker glasses, which I guess goes with the patriotic Uncle Sam's idea. Holly Hansen VO: Most of the bands that played Uncle Sam's did covers. But there was the occasional local band playing originals. The Suicide Commandos, one of the Twin Cities' first punk groups, formed in 1974. Later, the Commandos would become regulars at a new club called Jay's Longhorn, where Peter Jesperson worked as house DJ. Peter Jesperson: It opened in June of '77, and I think the DJ booth - it was a Naugahyde disco unit that they rented until they built a booth for me in the corner. But at the time, yeah, we rented this Naugahyde disco thing with flashing lights that we never used, and it was on wheels so it wasn't very sturdy, and people would bump into it and records would skip and I'd be screaming at people. Holly Hansen VO: The Longhorn was where you went if you lived in the Twin Cities and identified in some way as "punk." Bands that played there included Talking Heads, Elvis Costello, the Police, and the B-52's. The Longhorn was a world away from Uncle Sam's. Steve McClellan: I kind of really felt an outsider to that whole Longhorn scene. I was not part of it. Holly Hansen VO: But soon, Steve would hire someone who was. Kevin Cole: I'm Kevin Cole. I am chief content officer at KEXP in Seattle. Holly Hansen VO: Kevin was a Longhorn regular who worked at Hot Licks, a record shop downtown, where one of his coworkers was a young Jimmy Jam. Kevin Cole: I was hired in '78. I worked at First Ave/Uncle Sam's from '78 to '91. I was brought in to help usher in a change, and I was a total misfit for the club at that time. It was a pretty mainstream suburban Saturday Night Fever-type disco, and that era was starting to die. And I think also in part because Steve Egsgard, the DJ who had kind of reigned supreme during that '70s disco heyday, was leaving, so they needed a DJ. I remember going to the back door and meeting Steve. At that time I — Joey Ramone was my idol, so I looked like one of the Ramones — long hair, ripped jeans, tennis shoes. And Steve and I had a great conversation, but I didn't know, really, how it went. And then like a week later he called and he's like, "Hey, can you start in like two days?" So I think they had a need. [Kevin laughs] Holly Hansen VO: In fact, they did. Steve McClellan: I could tell American Avents, at the time, was already planning on dumping Minneapolis, but didn't tell anybody. That's my gut feeling when I look at paperwork and stuff. So that brings us through the turmoil in the transition from Uncle Sam's to Sam's. We were kind of just dumped. Allan was jilted. Holly Hansen VO: That's Allan Fingerhut, who still co-owned the club at that point. Steve's plan was to bring Jack Meyers, a lawyer who Steve knew from Catholic school, on board for damage control. Steve McClellan: When American Avents pulled out and Allan was deciding to have both Byron and Mel Orenstein, the attorney, telling him, "Close the club, we can't lose any more money," there was two of the big hoops I had to hurdle. I do remember I took a half cut, [of] whatever American Avents was paying me at the time, because I wanted to add Jack to the management team. And then of course, American Avents pulled out by sucking all the money out and putting no improvements in. So when we had taken over the club, we were like $60,000 in debt with no backup revenue source. That's a huge amount of money. Holly Hansen VO: Money was the big difference between Steve and Jack's management styles. Steve McClellan: I always wanted to spend money. Jack always wanted to save money. And that was our whole working relationship. I had just taken over as manager, and I started getting bills from people for stuff that happened in '70 and '71. And I couldn't — this is at the time American Avents had pulled out. If there's any reason for that club being open financially, it would be Jack. He went through years of stressful deposits and non-deposits and the financial end. LeeAnn Weimar: It went to, replacing light bulbs was an issue sometimes. Steve McClellan: Oh yeah, because we had the big fluorescent tubes that were expensive and just putting them up was a pain in the butt. Holly Hansen VO: The turning point for Uncle Sam's came on November 28, 1979. That night, Steve had booked the Ramones. It was the New York punk heroes' third show in the Twin Cities. Peter Jesperson, the Longhorn DJ and co-founder of Twin/Tone Records, who also worked the counter at the Lyndale Avenue record store Oar Folk-joke-opus, saw the first. Peter Jesperson: Oh, you know, Kelly's Pub in '77. But of course, I was at every Ramones show I'm sure they ever did in Minneapolis. We did in-stores with them when they were in town at Oar Folk for each of the first three albums. By the third time the Ramones were there, I think that we had several where they got so crowded the police came, and that was one of them because people were spilling out all over the corner there at 26th and Lyndale. They got bigger each time, and some people came because they were a curiosity, and other people came because they were just such a great band. But they were super nice. They were so friendly - loved hanging around the store, [and] they all bought records. Holly Hansen VO: The one time Jesperson skipped seeing the Ramones was in November of 1978, at the St. Paul Civic Center, when they opened for Foreigner. The longtime Minneapolis Tribune critic Michael Anthony remembers cringing at that show. Michael Anthony: What it suggested to me was an elemental truth about pop music and the venue — how important the venue is because their brand of punk, those short quick tunes, works only in a club. It has to have a small thing and boom-boom-boom-boom. You can't do that in a big cavernous room. Whereas Foreigner wrote music that was meant to be played in an arena. Holly Hansen VO: But the Ramones didn't just sound better in a club. Their whole vibe felt better in a smaller room. Punk rock was a tight-knit subculture, and McClellan responded instantly to its do-it-yourself ethos. He booked the Ramones and Pat Benatar on consecutive nights, through the booking agency Premiere in New York. He says this was a total coincidence. Steve McClellan: Now understand that I got along with very few major agents at the time, but both of those shows came from a guy named George Cavado [ph] at Premiere Agency, which was, at the time, Premiere had Bruce Springsteen. That's how I got my U2 dates, was through Premiere. George was an exception to the rule. I hated the big agents. They were so pretentious — arrogant. George wasn't. Holly Hansen VO: Steve didn't get along with several booking agents in town. He also struggled to work with the Minneapolis Police Department. This becomes a key part of the story once the Ramones show up at Uncle Sam's. Steve McClellan: When I took over as management, the Minneapolis Police Department were the security there. At that time, you needed them. Otherwise, if you had trouble, you couldn't — they wouldn't come to you. But it was a Drink and Drown night, one of those pay $5 and get a dime drink [nights]. There was one night when the police kind of overreacted. Something they had instigated blew up and they had fights on the street — 7th Street. There was, like, 22 arrests. The police just started arresting people. And as it turns out, a lot of was, they were just arresting people without merit, and they ended up dropping it all. But the city officially decided we were a club that the Minneapolis Police could not work for, unless they were bonded, and we couldn't afford bonding. It was ridiculously too expensive. But I breathed a sigh of relief, 'cause I couldn't tell them what to do. Holly Hansen VO: From then on, Uncle Sam's had to hire its own security staff. Enter Richard Luka, who worked the door from '75 to '93. Richard Luka: At the time, I was a competitive bodybuilder and on the track team of the U of M. I was 260 pounds, and they had a Wednesday night Drink and Drown night, where you pay $5 at the cover, and drinks were a dime. So I came in and I walked in and I looked around and somebody said, "Hey, you — would you like to work here?" And I said, "Do I get free drinks?" I said, "Okay, all right." [Steve laughs] Steve McClellan: We were just hoping we could keep it open another day. Richard Luka: Okay. Alright. Yeah, just don't beat anybody up; just don't drink too much. That's all it was. Steve McClellan: When people came in for security, A, they always assumed we wanted a bouncer. I took the term "bouncer" out of the job descriptions after American Avents left. They wanted big bouncer guys to be on staff. And remember, we inherited a police force that were bouncers. That was their job: kick butt. And they took seriousness in it, back in the Mayor Stenvig days. They were the best bouncers you could have, because they were armed and they had a whole police force they could call. But the way they handled security stuff was not what you wanted. MUSIC: "Blitzkrieg Bop - Live at Rainbow Theatre, London, 12/31/77; 2019 Remaster" Holly Hansen VO: Working security at the Ramones and Pat Benatar shows changed Richard Luka's life. Richard Luka: About that specific night, it was seeing disco one night and then all of a sudden, "Who are these people in the black leather jackets and the green hair? Who the hell are these people?" And this band comes out and I'm thinking, this is just gonna be like any concert. They're gonna do a couple of songs and then they're gonna slow it down. It was like [Richard laughs] they're not slowing this thing down! This crowd is crushing us, and they're yelling and screaming, and people are climbing over us, and we're looking for people trying to spit on them. And at the end of it I said, "This is so awesome." [Richard and Steve laugh] And my ex-wife was there, and she was totally into disco. She looked around and said, "These people are disgusting. Disco's never gonna die." And she said, "I'm expecting you home immediately," and she left and I went, "F*** you. I'm gonna help the band load out." And I helped the Ramones and their road crew load up, and I stayed there until like three in the morning. They gave me a Ramones t-shirt, and I wore it to work the next day, and then I had to show up the next night for Pat Benatar. Holly Hansen VO: The Benatar tickets cost $1.92. That in itself was unusual — Uncle Sam's usually didn't have a cover charge. LeeAnn Weimar: Yeah, but Pat Benatar was a sex symbol then. She was a rock chick, and every guy I knew wanted to see that show. Steve McClellan: I still say it was a really good show. LeeAnn Weimar: I'm sure it was. Steve McClellan: Live show-wise, and I didn't understand the Ramones because they had no radio play. Why did they sell out? LeeAnn Weimar: She's still out there doing it. Well, because the Ramones were the Ramones. Steve McClellan: I didn't know that. Holly Hansen VO: Kevin Cole DJ'd both shows. Kevin Cole: At that point in time, it was still the old-school Uncle Sam's DJ set-up, which was on the stage. So during the Uncle Sam's heyday, the DJ would be on the stage; there'd be dancers on the stage; a lot of times, there'd be a drummer on the stage drumming along to whatever the DJ was spinning. I'd be spinning before they went on, and when it came time for the band to play, [I] would make the announcement and literally duck. And I would just sit back there onstage as the band was playing.And both were really incredible high-energy shows. I remember after the Pat Benatar show, getting them to sign this standup from the store. And it was pretty funny. They wrote something like "Keep rockin' into the '80s, man." [Prince's "Head"] Holly Hansen VO: The same week as First Avenue's first Ramones show, a young Minneapolis R&B singer performed his first headlining concert away from home. On November 26, 1979, Prince performed at the Roxy in Hollywood. Before they went onstage, Prince told his group, "I'm going to personify sex in every possible way." That tour, he debuted the song "Head," a risqué, as-yet unrecorded track influenced by the New Wave. [Prince's "Head" fades up, plays for a few seconds before fading out under Holly's voiceover] Holly Hansen VO: Uncle Sam's was ready to embrace a new wave, too. Back home, the Ramones and Pat Benatar shows did so well that Steve McClellan won a prize. Steve McClellan: This is where I got an award one year, because I did Pat Benatar and the Ramones the same week and they both sold out, and I was the highest-grossing of all fifteen clubs for that one week. Now, that is not really amazing when you consider admission prices and stuff, and when you do two $1,500 shows. Holly Hansen VO: The two shows also set the stage for Kevin Cole, along with DJs Roy Freedom and Paul Spangrud, to revamp First Avenue's dance nights. Kevin Cole: It was a real transitional period, and I think another thing that's significant about those two back-to-back shows is what happened right after those shows. So the Ramones were on November 28, Pat Benatar on the 29th, and then in the Mainroom, Roy and I presented, on Friday and Saturday, "A New Wave Experience," which is how it was billed at the time. And that was, in part, part of this big statement of like, "Hey, we're changing. Here's two national bands that we're really excited about." And, "Here's what we're doing on the dance nights." And Friday and Saturday nights were the bread and butter of Uncle Sam's and Sam's and First Avenue. We were going from the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever to playing the Clash and the Talking Heads and Blondie and Iggy Pop and Gang of Four and Devo and B-52's, and so it made for a really interesting challenge. And that was some of the most vital music being made. But part of what made ultimately, I think, First Avenue really successful was this philosophy that Steve really, really supported, and it was this idea that we were gonna play an eclectic mix of dance music. [Kevin takes a deep breath] It was a challenge. I mean, early on we'd clear the floor. [Kevin laughs] Holly Hansen VO: In order to pay the bills, Steve made it his mission to fill Uncle Sam's calendar, with DJs and live bands. Steve McClellan: You have this amount of money you gotta cover if you're open seven days a week. "Geez, $300, I can make that happen. If we do a college night with mud wrestling, we'll get $300, right?" And I knew if I was only open five days a week, well, take $2,100 and divide it by five instead of seven. Every day I was closed, to me, cost us money. Holly Hansen VO: In addition to big-name headliners, Uncle Sam's booked openers from around the Twin Cities, forming ties that would only get stronger. [Curtiss A's "Land of the Free"] Kevin Cole: The Pat Benatar show, Curtiss A opened. So we were developing those relationships with those bands already and working toward ultimately where we got to, which is a space where live bands could play. Daniel Corrigan: So, Micah, who used to work here, once said that First Avenue is a pirate ship that doesn't go anywhere. Holly Hansen VO: That's Daniel Corrigan, First Avenue's official photographer, quoting Micah Ailie. When Cecilia mentioned this to Steve and LeeAnn Weimar, they had a ready response. Steve McClellan: Not only was it a pirate ship, but it had a captain that didn't know where he was heading, or which shore we were heading for, or . . . LeeAnn Weimar: Or where the Bermuda Triangle was. Steve McClellan: Yeah! And we were constantly lost. [Steve laughs] Bermuda Triangle! LeeAnn Weimar: But god, we had a good time. [Icetep's "Hive Sound" fades up] Mark Wheat VO: In 1980, the crew dropped the "Uncle" and just went by "Sam's," a name that would last a couple of years. Next episode, you'll meet the newly christened "First Avenue" in a heyday of historic shows — few more significant than Bad Brains, Sweet Taste of Afrika, and Husker Du. Did you see the Ramones or Pat Benatar at First Avenue? If so, or if you'd like to share another memory, send it to us via email or voice memo at rewind@thecurrent.org. If you enjoyed this story, please mention it in a review of The Current Rewind on Apple Podcasts, or share it with the music lovers in your life. Also, we're happy to provide transcripts of each episode of this show. If you'd like to check them out, head over to TheCurrent.org/rewind. This episode of The Current Rewind was hosted by Holly Hansen and me, Mark Wheat. It was produced by Cecilia Johnson and scripted by our head writer, Michaelangelo Matos. Marisa Morseth is our research assistant, and Jay Gabler is our editor. Our theme music is the song "Hive Sound" by Icetep. This episode was mixed by Corey Schreppel. Thanks to Brett Baldwin, Rick Carlson, Shelby Sachs, David Safar, and Peter Scholtes for additional support. [Producer's note: We also owe Jeanne Andersen and her website Twin Cities Music Highlights a debt of gratitude for her original research and archiving.] The Current Rewind is made possible in part by the Minnesota Legacy Amendment's Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund. It is a production of Minnesota Public Radio's The Current. The Current Rewind goes to First Avenue

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