John Entwistle

Sun, 08 November 1998:

Fayetteville, AR, Chester's Place


No known setlist



It seems the WHO's John Entwistle was passing through my little town and had some spare time, so Dark Star Promotions threw together a quick promotional package and booked John for a matinee and an evening show this past Sunday. The Ox and his band - John, the drummer, Godfrey Townshend (no relation to Pete, a NY boy) the guitzy, and Alan St. Johns the keys) ran a sound check at the matinee, then played Here Comes the End, 905, an unreleased JEB song, and Cousin Kevin. I'd been joking all weekend about taking a turn at the mike to sing The Real Me, only because that was the only song I knew for sure that JEB was playing. Well, either I'm clairvoyant, or somebody from the band must have overheard me and thought it was a good idea, because they asked for a volunteer vocalist from the audience who knew the words to The Real Me. Of course I know the words to all Who songs, but I was stone cold sober and stage fright froze me even colder. My wife and all of my friends pointed at me at screamed, "Kevin, Kevin." Photographers swarmed, thinking I might be a celebrity plant, and I just sat, shaking my head no, until a couple of drunk guys took the stage. They didn't know all the words or even the order of the verses, but one of them put on a hilarious show with windmilling and loosey-goosey air guitar dancing right in front of John. I may have missed out on an audition to be a rock and roll star. The drunk guys didn't get any offers though.

Then John and the band hung around and signed memorabilia, including the breast of an attractive young woman, posed for photos, and just let us all bask in the aura of a Rock Legend. My friends, who at first thought I had some kind of inside connection, then vilified me heartily for pussing out on a chance of a lifetime to perform on stage with John Entwhistle, a hero since childhood. Of course they missed out on the same opportunity, but they sure had fun calling me names--pussy, goat, wimp, coward, loser. I knew my throat was too sore for me to hit the high note in "the CRACKS between the paving stones looked like rivers of flowing veins," but the truth is I just went into shock.

Does anybody know if the JEB regularly asks for guest vocalists on The Real Me, or was John just trying to give me the thrill of my life, only for me to disappoint us both.

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John Entwistle in Fayetteville, AR