Submitted By: Adam
Date: 09/18/2002

I walked down the cracked sidewalk, nervously, hopping every few steps. My girlfriend smiled at me, and I could tell she was happy. I couldn't believe I was meer blocks away from a myth I had built up for the past 2 years. As we made the turn onto Front Street, I could almost feel an energy surge over my entire body. I felt like I did when I was in pre-school and I knew we were about to take a field-trip to the swimming pool. With that feeling, though, came disappointment, when I, for a reason unknown to me, was not selected to go swimming that day. I had about a million-and-a-half thoughts going through my head at any given moment.

What if we can't get in? What if they don't show up? What if they think I'm a dork? What if I think they're dorks? Will they like Cassy?

We reached the bar, Paleo Sun, and the door stood gaping open. I saw a few dark figures inside huddled around a table with 3 boxes of pizza on it. I nervously peaked my head in and squeaked, Groovatron??. The heads turned and stared. I knew it must be them, because of all the beards, long hair, and tie-dye. I'm Adam, from the internet, I stammered. They looked confused for a second, and then, like a lightning bolt rushed in from outside, they remembered me and my stupid story. We shook hands, greeted each other, and stood around for a few minutes. I didn't really know what to do. I introduced them to Cassy, and they were all very nice. My first impressions were nothing but super. They seemed to be a happy group. We all chatted it up while they sat up their massive amount of equipment. I was informed that Steve was missing, and that would hinder the playing of some songs, such as Outcome SOS, and that was a dissapointment, but I put it behind me and pressed on, some-how.

After they had all their guitars, drums, basses, and saxophones set up, someone asked me if Cassy and I would like to join them in the basement. Of course, I said yes, not knowing what was coming. For all I knew, they could have been leading me to the slaughter, but they were just so friendly that I had to doubt that thought.

I felt extremely privelaged to be hanging out with the groove. I still had a nervous tick about me, and was probably a little quiet. I suppose I was a little over-whelmed with the events that had just happened.

We walked down the stairs, and were opened up to the yellow underbelly of Paleo. There was a fooseball table set up, and a shiny, blue, 3-wheel electric bike stood majestically in the center of the room. Tony (Q) immediately hopped on it and started goofing around. It was truly a noble beast...the bike that is. Everyone soon hearded over to the fooseball table for some sporting action. Even though I'm a big foose fan, I decided to take a seat in the background and use the breathing room to express my happiness to Cassy, who was like-wise beaming. They played a few games, and after the mini-comp was over, we sat up wooden chairs in a semi-circle, and all sat down. Qualls pulled out a piece he had made out of a pen top, and we commenced in the usual ceremony, but then disaster struck! As the first flame was lit, we heard a piercing sound coming from a small, off-white cylinder above Tony Mac's head. We had set off the smoke alarm! (Or so we thought) We all laughed at first, then, proceeded to fan the fire alarm with hats, shirts...even multi-colored afghans...all to no avail. The club managers came down and informed us that we hadn't set the alarm off, but rather, it was the smoke machine up-stairs. The noise continued to pierce our ear-lobes, and we decided it would be best to just go outside and wait for the malay to stop, which it did after a few minutes.We didn't start the fire!

Groovatron Smokes Out Paleo Sun!

We laughed the whole massacre off, and went back down the stairs to get on with the proceedings, but it did not seem to be, as the fire department poked it's ugly, black head in. There were only three of them, and they were probably amped up by getting a call, because they took it rather seriously. I guess that's a good thing, though, because if it would've been a real fire, that would have been a comfort -- them taking it seriously and all. The "leader" looked like Mr. Joe Fire-Chief with his textbook black mustache and menacing, stark-black, combed hair. There was also a woman fire-(man?). She was quite the looker, and it was, indeed, commented on.

She can put my fire out anytime!

The band got tired of hanging out with fire-men, and went to do soundcheck, which was mucho interesting. I'd never seen a sound-check before, so I paid close attention as they got everything ready to go. They were very maticulous in their actions, paying close attention to every detail. They were very serious about their sound being perfect, which is cool. I'm glad they care how they sound to their fans, or in this case, the drunks that wonder in to hear the big-noise. In all, it was about 30 minutes of Check-check-1-2.. Compare...Comparing...Bring it down..Check-1-2... Again, I got to recollect my thoughts with Cassy, and also speak at length with their bookie, who is, coincidentally, the shit. He was rolling cigarettes for them with this handy red roller thing, and an 8 lb. bag of tobacco. I will avoid saying what I thought that bag consisted of, initially.

Sound-check was finished. They were all set up to play. All they needed now was a good buzz to bring the groove to the people. Back to the basement we go! This time, there is no fire-men, and everything goes according to planned. Conversations got very interesting, as I listened, for twenty minutes to Qualls and Marc argue about the date of a particular show. Sub-conversations included robot sex, flash-light pussies, blunts, 40s, and bitches. It was definitely fun for the whole family. They were all like brothers. 'Twas cool, indeed.

But that had to end, because, sigh, they had to play their songs!!! It didn't even seem like that was the climax of the evening anymore. The very thing I had came to see, didn't seem as important as it once did. I had been hanging out with these cats for about 3 hours now, and I had gotten used to talking with them, and I had forgotten they were one of my fave bands and they were about to jam! But that intensity came rushing back as I saw all of them onstage; instruments in hand.

There wasn't many people there at all. There were 2 girls sitting at a booth, a few people at the bar, a crazy looking fuck in an ICP shirt, Cassy, myself, their manager, and before-mentioned bookie. That sucked for the band, because I'm sure they feed off the energy of the crowd, but it was for-sure cool for me. To put it in perspective, I got to see one of my favorite bands play in front of 15 people, in my home-town. Replace Groovatron with Weezer...yeah.

They started out with a massive improv session. I watched as they flowed, seamlessly, from soft to hard to in-between melodies over and over again. I was amazed at how in-sync they were with each other. It seemed effortless for them to, well, just fucking rock out.

We watched for about 30 minutes, when unfortunately, I had to take Cassy home. She didn't want to leave either, but it was a necessary evil. We waited until they took a little break to tweak their sound, so we could say proper good-byes.

On the way to her house, we yammered on and on about how cool the night had been. She really enjoyed herself, as had I. I dropped her off, and hurried back downtown.

I had no trouble getting back in, as the door-man thought I was the part of the band, I guess. Maybe he thought I was the camera-man or something? I did take a shitload of pictures. (Actually, I had forgotten my camera and had to run back to my faithful beast of a Jeep to get it.)

They weren't far into their second set when I got settled back in. I had missed a few songs, but it was very much all good. Earlier, I was asked if there was anything, in particular that I wanted to hear, and after having some time to ponder the question, I gave my answer: Make Like A Tree: the greatest and best song ever. I yelled it out during a little break between songs, and the band replied, simply, OK. And then they jammed out. That song is so funny. Let's hear it for the birds! Let's hear it for the trees! Let's hear it for the fishes swimmin' in the seas!!! Rock.

The highlight of my evening, though, had to be when Marc said, This next song is for our good friend, Adam, with the kick ass Kermit T-shirt. They then proceeded to say Say It Ain't So!!! I could feel the jizz running down my leg. That was just so cool. I can't even describe it! I sung along with Nick as they ran through a flawless cover of a great tune, throwing in their own little jams through-out. What a great showing by a simply fantastic band!

After the music ended, and all the people went home, I was left standing in the center of the room wondering what would come next in this rock n' roll roller-coaster I had landed in. I suggested maybe grabbing a bite to eat at Jimbo's, and that seemed well received. The band debated about whether they wanted to stay in Wilmington for the night or start their trek towards Atlanta. I told them I would be more than willing to accommodate them for the night at a friend's house. So, they began mulling that over. All the while, I helped them put up their equipment, and got a few more snap-shots. I think they all had a good buzz going on by now, and were much more open to new and exciting conversations. I remember one comment, in particular, that would be the basis of the rest of the evening. I was walking back into the club, and Tony Mac took me aside and asked me, almost in a "hey, do you know where I can get some dope" voice, So, I, uh, heard you do anal. Needless to say, that caught me a little off guard, but I think my reply was sufficient: That's a dirty, ugly rumor. Heh. Good times.

We finally finished up with all the loading and shit at about 3:30. Then, came the extremely tough decisions of whether to eat, party, or sleep. Finally, we decided to cruise by a block to check out a party some girl had mentioned, and then if that wasn't happening, we would go to Jimbo's to get some breakfast. So, that's just what we did.

We rode down the block the party was supposed to be at, and saw no action. So, onto Jimbo's it was! Half-drunk hippies at a late-night restaurant probably isn't the best idea, but it sure was good fun. I witnessed the band's surprise at the marvelous wonder that is the chicken biscuit. I also expanded my knowledge on Sun-Drop and Texas Pete, two other delicacies known only to this region. Andy and I laughed at 2 pieces of sliced cheese for about 30 minutes. OK, just picture it…this semi-trashy waitress brings out 2 little plates with half-melted cheese on it and says, I put 'em on the grill, but they may still be a little cold. Ah, it was classic. With everyone stuffed and tired we headed to my friend, Chris's house.

We arrived at about 5:30, woke Chris up, re-enforced our buzz and played video games until 6:30, when I decided I should maybe get a little sleep before I had to get up and go to a 9 o'clock class. And thus, I went to bed. And wouldn't you know it, I slept right through my class. And I figured if I didn't go to school, why should I go to work? So, I called in sick to work, leaving myself a day with nothing to do. But the fun did have to stop somewhere. After playing video games, vacating to the sun-porch because of a "mom scare", discussing the pros and cons of butt sex, and looking through highschool yearbooks (talking about which girls would do anal) it was finally time to say goodbye. So, The Groove packed up their things at hit the road, but not before ripping up Chris's yard with tire tread.

I was a tired, beaten boy. But I had a smile on my face. Mucho thanks to Groovatron for rocking my socks off and bestowing upon me a night I will never forget. You're all my heroes even if you are just a bunch of butt-fuckers.

E-Mail Me if you have any suggestions for things to add to the site.