Thursday, January 30, 2014

A Night at the Coconut Teaser with The Rooster



Xana on the rocks
Bringing the sexy back to the Mexican American
bird leg since 1986  



I was having one of my moments while I was in the shower this morning listening to Duran Duran, of course...  and remembering dancing for Jerry at the now closed Coconut Teaser in Hollywood. Just think if I was a little shutterbug with a camera back then. It's a shame I of all people don't have more photos. So I guess I will have to describe this. 





The way the evening started out was like most. Alice was recording Facelift. We had rental cars and would all go out together or maybe we'd split up and go to different clubs. I grudgingly went with Jerry and someone else in the band to play pool. Anyone who has ever played pool especially in those days with Jerry knows that he hates to lose at pool. It's just a guy thing but always made me laugh, it was like Andy getting mad about Nintendo football. Jerry had his own pool stick and was actually really good, and  he was probably  having a great time, after all we did get fed every day, unlike in Seattle where no one really went hungry but we wern't driving free rental cars either. It was really good to see them there and fulfilling their true destinies. As critical as I may have seemed and even as we all started worrying about Layne, I never ever doubted their ability to win over any audience and every melodic song that came along was a new part of the story. So for me it was just a little funny to  see him with his feathers all ruffled over a pool game. 




Don't even think of challenging The Rooster
to a casual game of pool... he will snuff you! 

All I wanted to do was go dancing. I remembered that they had a D.J. at The Coconut Teaser that played decent dance music~ you know, white girl music.  Some Cult... a little Prince, a little Queen. It was like being at The Vogue on a Thursday except less grungy. People in Hollywood are all about their appearance -- we all know that. 



We didn't really fit in. Almost every girl you'd see out was literally still wearing '80s high heels and tight little black dresses. I was always wearing something hippyish. And Alice guys were always in their torn up jeans and Converses. Guys in Hollywood would be wearing pointy black boots and used hairspray.  Exceptions were the goths, who we ignored like we ignored the bat cavers in Seattle; the "Cow Punk" chicks who wear cowboy boots with everything -- most of them are from Austin; ska types that dress in all vintage clothing and hang out at The Derby; and  the Jane's Addiction crowd -- the only ones that had any original style. They were artists. We liked them. They were grungy, like us! 


So back to the Coconut. I'm wearing -- get this -- my day-glo orange Reeboks -- you know, the ones that make your feet look like muffins. And I was wearing Daisy Duke-style shorts trimmed with white lace and a white ruffle top. I will never forget this night. I don't know why I remember it more than other nights.  But I always remember what I was wearing because of those hideous tennis shoes! 





Once I left and decided to go to The Teaser, the rest of the guys took off to Cat & Fiddle, another Hollywood bar I was never impressed with. I figured I wouldn't see Jerry until the next day.  Once I got there, I had the dance floor pretty much to myself. The first time I was there was when Alice first played in L.A. It was a classic record label show filled with a bunch of chodes. The larger room was the one they played in.  There are only a few of us around that were at that show. Not a single person was moving or dancing at all. 


 They were all just standing there with eyes as  big as plates! I had no idea. I don't wait for the rest of the audience's cue to enjoy music, so I was headbanging or whatever right in front of Mike, or wait... right side of the stage -- that would be Jerry. Well anyhow, I looked behind me to see all these stone-faced, square-looking people just standing there watching them and watching me... they thought we were nuts, I guess! Even our friend, Penny Rosen, a label chick we had been hanging out with who loved the band, was staring at me like "What the hell is wrong with you?!"  OH and about my tennis shoes... yeah, go ahead and laugh it up, fuzzballs.....until you've danced for The Rooster in orange Reeboks, I don't think you should be saying a word!

 And now I'm remembering telling the part of the story where Layne borrowed my burgundy lipstick and rose tinted Bono glasses right before he went on stage. Heh Heh... Layne.

 Anyhow, that was how I knew about The Teaser, and I also knew there was this room next door with mirrors on the walls and ceiling. Well what an ego I must have had to be in there "dancing with myself" Billy Idol-style in my hideous orange Reeboks. I guess my long legs and wild long hair made up for my fashion faux pas. I mean, the D.J. told me I was a good dancer... D.J.s don't lie, do they?





Anyhow, at some point I looked in the mirror and saw Jerry standing in the corner. He was just watching me and smiling as I danced away the night in my orange Reeboks. He didn't say why he left the other bar or try to explain why he came looking for me, but I'm glad he did. Jerry brought out the submissive, demure part of me. There was nothing illicit about it, just two people who were a security blanket to each other in a strange time in Tinseltown where we could each go off and do whatever we wanted with whomever we wanted, yet clung to each other like lost little grunge puppies.



I wish I could make it a juicier story and say we ran off and made love on the beach or did something else fantastic like ran into Pee wee Herman at a party, maybe Weird Al... (that was the following year) something that would be movie worthy... but the truth is we just went home and went to sleep.  


Well folks, that concludes our grunge story for now! We have some really great ones coming up in February, you might even say it's going to be a love themed month and all the stories that have been sent in so far will finally be shared right here, so if you have a fun story or positive experience with The Rooster to share -- I can't be the only one -- or a great concert memory to share, by all means, get writing! 


If we win here in Xanaland
we win everywhere
the world is a fine place 
and worth fighting for
And I'd hate very much to leave it

Hemingway 

Alright, so I threw the Xanaland part in but it's still a great quote! 




I don't need to tell you what to do now right?!