All righty! Back on tour, back in Philly. I took a ride around market street today and came across the this building - for sale, that is part of the G. Love story, and it brought back some crazy memories.
This building (in the picture) is the loft where we stayed when we were working on our first record. We were recording at the old Studio 4, which was in the basement of the building at Race and Spring Garden, just up the street from here. We spent most of our time in the studio, for the month of December, 1993 - but when we got exhausted we went back to the loft and crashed on mattresses on the floor. The place was big but un-furnished really. A little kitchen handled our morning coffee, but most of our meals were cheese stakes scoffed down at the studio. But it was a nice upscale loft with fashionable exposed brick, which was just starting to be cool in those days. In the lobby, you can kind of see to the right there, there was a giant exotic tree, potted. It was some wacky kind of palm - really cool.
It was a wild time, and there were so many things happening, and finishing up the record was a combination of excitement and anticipation, as much as relief and exhausted elation at what we knew was join to be our defining creation. Anyhow, G decided that we should celebrate with a New Years Eve party, the last evening of our month long lease. The loft was the perfect spot - a big open floor for dancing, and no furniture or anything, and we decided to have some friends come out and play some music. Maybe a few kegs or whatever.
We had been hanging out with a hip-hop group called the Goats - look them up they were really cool - anyhow they brought in a whole rig, and we had a huge jam. I’d like to say my memory of it has gotten foggy, but I remember the first part of the night, it’s just the second part I don’t think I ever remembered in the first place! (due to the afore mentioned kegs.)
Well it didn’t take long for the whole thing to get out of hand, people were pouring in off the street, people were collecting money at the door and buying more kegs and it just went off until it was completely insane - fights, super drunk people, the whole nine. I woke up back at Garrets folks house. They were none too happy, having heard from the owners who were completely pissed. The loft was trashed.
I actually think we got tremendously lucky - no one was killed or arrested even! But we didn’t feel lucky that morning as got up and went to clean up. And when we got there we saw what was the only real tragedy. Some drunken jackass must have got pissed and grabbed the exotic palm and knocked over its pot and dragged it out into the street by the roots.
So while the rest of our motley crew did the best they could digging out of the plastic cups, washing puke off the walls and steam cleaning the carpets that ended up having to be replaced anyway, I made my penance by trying to save the tree. One stalk had been broken off irreparably, but I managed to right the pot and replant the rest of it with dirt I scooped off the floor and swept up from the street. I found a bucket and gave it a good drink of water.
It was a small act, considering the condition of the whole place, but I was heartened when I went by a year or so later and saw the tree was still there in the lobby, though not as grand. It was a success, if not redemption.
Philadelphia PA, muggy and warm.