By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
--Chuck Lindholm, retired
In the summer of either '85 or '86, I was trying to get my high school buddies to be in a band with me so we could take the world by storm. Meanwhile, I was working in the kitchen at Eddington's downtown, hanging my ass over 50 gallons of soup. It was usually about 120 degrees and I was dressed from head to toe in polyester for this job. After work, on my way home to St. Louis Park, I'd ride my bike through Kenwood to see Will, the reluctant lead guitarist who was going to be the lynchpin for this awesome band. So almost every day I'd be sitting on his porch trying to talk him into this thing, and, let me tell you, I just reeked. I was really into this au naturel thing at the time--no underwear, no deodorant--and I reeked of the heat and this Wisconsin Cheddar Cheese Soup. I could tell he hated to smell me and his Mom hated to smell me. But there I'd be, trying to get him into this band. And back then, Will had a penchant for [Hüsker Dü's] Land Speed Record and early Dinosaur Jr. and the Minutemen, and I hated that music; hated it then and I hate it now. And that's what I'd be listening to as I sat on that porch reeking of soup. Maybe that's why to this day I hate Bob Mould's music.
--Willie Wisely, musician
Oh, I can think of so many things! Sly and the Family Stone first, because there was this little tri-county fair in the arena parking lot in Duluth. I'd go down with my high school sweetheart. They had a zipper and a Ferris wheel and they always played Sly and the Family Stone's greatest hits, "Hot Fun" of course, but also "Sing A Simple Song" and "Stand."
And then as a little kid, our backyard was the softball field and I remember leading the neighborhood kids in the Twins' theme: "We're gonna win Twins, we're gonna score." I had a baseball with Bob Allison's autograph, and I had this big crush on Tony Oliva. He was from Cuba and the media had taught me that Cuba was like the evil Thrush in Man From U.N.C.L.E. and I thought it was so cool that we rescued him from Cuba. I wanted to be drafted by U.N.C.L.E. to go down and get Tony's family out of Cuba. I wanted to matter to Tony Oliva.
singer and performer
It was the summer after I graduated from college, in Richmond, Virginia. I was a DJ at the college radio station and we had gotten an advance copy of "Summer Babe" by Pavement. I played it on the radio constantly. It was hot, every day. We'd play the song in the car on the way to a [swimming] quarry, an old gravel pit where they broke through to an underground spring. There's always an air of danger to it. First, there's the rumor that there's heavy machinery down at the bottom, from when the diggers broke through and had to scramble out and abandon the pit. And it's on private land, so you could always be caught for trespassing or something. There's no beach to loll around on; you're either in the water or climbing up rocks to jump in the water. The water is cold, clear, isolated, and beautiful. In the South, they deal with summer a whole different way; everything's slowed down. I'd have to say I'd trade about 2,000 lakes for a couple of good quarries.
guard of Minneapolis Institute of the Arts,
film programmer at Red Eye
The name of the song is "The Time Is Right To Get On Your Motor Bike and Ride Ride Ride." It is by a friend of mine, Sam. That song always gets me going about summer because we both had motorcycles at the time, and we were sittin' and chromin'--you know what chroming is, right? You paint up your rusty spots and polish the chrome and the other stuff, and we both had these beater motorbikes and we were chroming that first couple of months of that summer and then all of a sudden I was in a band with him; or actually he was in a band with himself; other people were in a band with him, but not me, that was later. But anyway, all of sudden he came out with this song called "The Time Is Right To Get On Your Motorbike and Ride." And that song was perfect for chroming.
--Dan Haeg, musician and house painter
Back in the day, growing up as youngsters, we had a fair and a parade beginning at The Way, where the Fourth Precinct Police Station is now, and going to the Phyllis Wheatley Center near Ninth and Fremont, right in the projects where we had these battles of the bands. Grand Central Station, the Fantasy band, the Lewis Brothers would all be there; The Time, with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, and everybody would be interchanging instruments. Prince was onstage, Andre Cymone, Cynthia Johnson, the list goes on and on. Prince used to stay with Andre and Andre's mother, Bernadette Anderson, on 12th and Russell; we used to play football every Saturday morning on Lincoln field.