TRACK 60 Smells Like Teen Spirit

In Germany Nick, Adele, and I recorded the first official Lesbian Raincoat CD simply called Out! Adele and I added keyboards to some of the songs. Nick thumped her bass and sang backup vocals. I played all the guitar tracks and used a Jerry Jones sitar for a psychedelic lead on “Working for the Jihad.” I recorded a solo, acoustic version of the song “Punishment Friday, 3:30 p.m.,” which I’d written for RAWA.

Later Adele added tambourine, which was just the thing, and we donated part of the proceeds of our album—there wasn’t much—to RAWA. Melissa donated the money she got selling her prints to PETA. I used my Gibson SG and blue Fender for recording. Besides Jake’s Fender, Nick had found a used sunburst Epiphone Beatles Viola bass, something she’d always wanted, to add a Paul McCartney vibe to some of our songs. It was beautiful, with gold knobs and inlaid headstock, and was smaller than her Fender. Because it was hollow, it was light, and she could hear it well without being plugged in, which allowed her to practice more easily on the road and in bed.

I recorded the new song I’d written for Melissa, “Pour,” with a lush guitar sound, using my blue Fender for the lead and the studio’s six- and twelve-string Rickenbackers and an acoustic Martin for rhythm. Nick played a Rickenbacker bass. Adele handled all the drums and percussion. We recorded some of my older songs like “Thanksgiving Day,” “Automatic Rifle Dance,” and “Crawl.” Adele gave a reggae-fueled percussive feel to “Holiday in Afghanistan” and “Lipstick,” the first real song I’d written for Melissa.

For our European mini-tour I found a used Orange amp, made in London, and a used pedal board. I had added a white Mexican Strat with a custom lavender leopard-print pickguard to my arsenal and brought that along with my trusty white SG. I didn’t use my blue Fender live because I wanted to save it just for recording. We played small venues except for a few festivals. But we didn’t play the main stages. We let it be known that we allowed people to tape our shows and post them on the Internet. We arranged with the different venues to let people in with their personal recording equipment. Playing live, we felt that once our music was released into the air, it belonged to everyone. Like the rain. It was a great first tour for us, and we learned how to coexist in a van even when we were wet and tired. Some of the Fesbians had come with us to work as roadies and manage the merchandise tables.

On the last night of our tour, we played a lesbian club in London. I put on an ACT UP T-shirt and white faux-leather punk bracelet with turquoise and silver studs. I’d also been wearing Melissa’s red tartan bracelet throughout the tour for luck. Since we didn’t have to conserve any energy for a next show and the stress of the tour was over, we were at our most raucous. We did wild, extended versions of “Taliban Radio Bulletin” and “Taliban Don’t Dance.” We ended the set with “Pour.” I was aware of Melissa watching from the side of the stage—in her untucked, long-sleeved blue shirt with the black collar, pocket and cuffs, the black braces dangling over the bum of her black trousers—as I belted it out. “When you rain on me you pour . . .”

Then I ended the song the way Patti Smith finishes her live versions of “Dancing Barefoot.”

“Oh God I fell for you.

Oh God I fell for you.

Oh God I feel the fever,

Oh God I feel the pain,

Oh God forever after,

Oh God, I’M BACK AGAIN!”

For an encore we played a smashing cover of the Clash’s “Protex Blue,” the lesbian version. The last thing I did was pick up an acoustic guitar and do a solo rendition of Patti Smith’s “Pissing in a River.”

I walked off the stage with my guitar, sweaty and smiling, into Melissa’s firm embrace.

It was late and I was exhausted by the time we finally packed up all our gear and got it loaded in the hired van. I was getting ready to climb into the front seat and tell Melissa to meet me back at the flat when Nick pulled me aside and told me to go home. “Really,” she put her hands on my shoulders, “we can handle it. We’ve got the entire Fesbian crew. We don’t need you. Go home with Melissa and I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

We kissed and said goodnight. With the strong, efficient women who were now our friends, Nick and Adele were going to drop off our equipment at her mum’s garage for us to sort out later. Then they would return the van and head over to an after-hours club with their mates and the full contingent of Fesbians to celebrate. But all I wanted to do was go home.

Once we were out in the cool London air, I felt free. Melissa put her arm around my shoulders and we walked to the car in silence. I was so hoarse I could barely speak. All I wanted was a cup of tea, a nice hot bath, and her. Smiling, she started the car and took me to the one place where I didn’t feel like an outsider.