The Moth - NYC Punks: Alistair Bane and Eddy Laughter

Episode Date: March 31, 2023

In this episode, we’ll be playing an episode from the Moth’s very first spinoff podcast, Grown! Subscribe to Grown wherever you get your podcasts, or check out its website for more information: www.grownpod.com This episode is hosted by Sarah Jane Johnson.

Attention Houston! You have listened to our podcast and our radio hour, but did you know the Moth has live storytelling events at Wearhouse Live? The Moth has opened Mike's storytelling competitions called Story Slams that are open to anyone with a five-minute story to share on the night's theme. Upcoming themes include love hurts, stakes, clean, and pride. GoodLamoth.org forward slashon to experience a live show near you. That's theMoth.org-FordSlashHuston. Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm Sarah Jane Johnson, Director of Creative Operations at The Moth, and your host for this episode. Growing up is, well, you can plug in a bunch of synonyms for awkward from the Thessaurus,

and you probably still won't come close to describing how awkward it actually is. So senior year, high school auditorium, I was on the basketball team, but I didn't play much, but one night, all eyes were on me. I had been asked to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the Friday Night Basketball game, but I come in there and my blue and white Bennington Badger uniform, I begin. I start strong, I'm getting into it, and I'm looking out at the sea of faces, so many of which I recognize from my super small town, and just barely into the second section, the words disappear.

I mean, I am perfectly on key, but the words remain the same. Where I should be singing the Rockets Red glare, I'm still on broad stripes and bright stars. Now my teammates have started singing, shouting really, to help me get back on track, yet my ears are ringing so loudly I can't hear them. I somehow recover by the last line and it mercifully ends. I wish I could tell you that I went on to shoot the game winning basket that night, but alas, I warmed the bench for most of the game like I always did. If you can believe it, this is the first time I've talked about this experience. Ever.

Anyway, point is growing up can be hard, but there's something special and sometimes freeing about sharing stories from that time. And our new show, Grown, that's GROWN. The very first spinoff of the Moth podcast is focused on exactly that. It has the great Moth storytelling you've come to love, plus conversations between our fantastic hosts, Alisa and Fanzo, and so much more. If you're looking for something to recommend or listen to with a young person in your life, I think this could be a perfect fit. But don't just take my word for it. Here's one of our favorite episodes all about how music can shape how we find our identity.

Don't worry, none of the stories are about the star-spangled banner. I'm in Williamsburg. I'm with my two best friends. Got my boy Rube and my boy Billy. And we're going to this venue, which is a bar. But a venue in the back of the bar. When we got there, I didn't buy a ticket. And what do you know?

We get there and the bouncer lets us in for $20 each. I think there was a DJ there before the performance started, and so they were like, so much playing. The cool kids were there, you know what I'm saying? A whole bunch of kids with grills, Williamsburg, Brooklyn vibes, a whole bunch of people who want to follow me back on Instagram. And it's Baby King. APPLAUSE And he makes his weight 20 minutes,

and then all of a sudden he jumps out, kills it. It was really a rememberable experience because literally right after this concert which was in the winter time, it went into January and then COVID struck. And like, that was, was you know I didn't see my friends for a long time so. God, last concert before the pandemic this must have been like a crazy bonding

experience for you guys. It was, it was, it really was. Even today like I feel like me and my friends really bond over like just the fact that we would know, maybe came like we know every song. It's really a part of our friendship, especially like that was the last thing that happened before like we were all secluded from each other. I think it really helped. Grown. Grown. Grown. Grown. I'm Alisa. And I'm Fanzo. And this is Grown, a podcast from the Moth full of stories about what it means to grow

up. On this episode we've got two stories focused on the strange and beautiful ways music can shape your life. First up is Eddie Laftur with a story that will leave you wanting it on corn. I'm on my way to see live music for the first time, and I'm so much more anxious than I think I have any right to be, because this band I'm about to see, I'm completely an utterly obsessed with, and I have seen every interview YouTube will physically let me watch, and I listened to them so much

at this point. It's probably doing something unhealthy to me. I don't know how that would work, but it's happening. And this is because when I listen to them all of a sudden, I feel like I'm big and like I'm powerful and like nothing can touch me when I'm walking down the street, which is really not something I feel at this, like ever at this point in my life. And I feel like so small and clunky and like,

I don't fit into my own body right. And I'm kind of starting to think that the middle school mentality that I'll never fit into any scenario go to is just gonna be how I live my life. And I feel like I just have to accept this at this point. So it doesn't make any sense that I'm this anxious to see this band. But I'm trying to think about what I can expect.

And I'm just kind of thinking about how in movies, punk shows are always like a bunch of loud, aggressive, intoxicated white boys, and that doesn't really seem like my scene. And I'm spiraling a bit, and I'm looking around on the train. I see this girl who's about 9 or 11. I don't know how age works, but she's there, and she's with her dad, and I'm like,

wonder if they're going to the punctuo, and then more of a mess, and I'm still spiraling, and then I get off the train and we get to the venue, and it doesn't look like a venue, but it definitely is a venue, because I get inside, and it's dark, and everyone's bigger than me, and it's really loud. And I pick a direction, and I just still spiraling and then I get off the train and we get to the venue and it doesn't look like a venue, but it definitely is a venue because I get inside and it's dark and everyone's bigger than me and it's really loud and I pick a direction and I just start walking and I see my eighth grade math teacher.

And, because of course I see my eighth grade math teacher. So I go up and talk to my eighth grade math teacher. Because that's what he wants spend his Friday. And I get up to him and it was a lot less awkward than you would think. And he asked me about music and what bands I listen to and I forget every single band I've ever heard of ever. And I'm like, this one.

And thankfully I'm interrupted by the first band that's up. And they have this very, they introduce themselves and they have this very nice welcoming speech about just like accepting everyone who's at the show. And I'm like, oh, well, and then they start screaming and they sound like they're wounded animals and But then there's a weird pop music playing underneath it and they're still screaming and then after each song ends the front person goes Thank you and then continue screaming for the next song and it's awesome

And then this goes on for a bit and it stops and then I kind of creep out of the corner that I'm in and the next band is up And these guys just they legitimately sound like they're demons. And just from how they're moving to the way this man's eyes look and whatever the noise is that's coming out of him. And for some reason I start to relax a bit and people are starting to dance around me and in this sort of way where it feels like there's a big sense of unity in the room

and I don't know where that's coming from. And then this lady behind me goes, well, that was aggressive. And I'm like, yeah, it was aggressive. And then that band is either done and then I'm like, my band is next. So I kind of like creep up to the front middle of the room. So I'm next to this woman who's bragging to her friends

about all the new patches she's put on her jacket. And I'm like, I support your DIY craft so much! And then my band has gone up to two in their instruments and I'm like, and then I text my friend and I'm like, I see the front woman and she's like, ah, and I'm like, ah, this is all over text. And then I'm so excited and I can feel everyone else is just as excited as I am and it feels like the room is like buzzing Which is so crazy because no one's ever excited about what I'm excited about

And then they start playing and it's like all of the air and sound gets sucked out of the room And we're all watching them and we're all just so excited to be there But it's like beyond excitement at this point and it's like everybody is where I am in my head right now and I were all just there together and we're all having the same experience and they start to play more songs and they start to like get into the music a little bit more and everyone else around me is doing that as well and they start to play my favorite songs and currently everybody else's favorite songs too and people are trying to dance more more and there's this woman in front of me,

and all she's doing is jumping up and down, which in any other context would look ridiculous. But it doesn't at all look ridiculous now, and I can do that too. So I start to move and jump around a bit. And then I get that same sense of power and freedom that I get when I listen to it normally. But it's fresher was revived or something.

And then someone kind of nudges me and like pushes me out of the way and then like takes my front middle spot. And I'm about to like get internally offended because conflict is scary. And you can. But then I just see that this woman was just making space for her girlfriend to go up next to her. And I'm like, this is a room full of punk queer women.

And I just, I didn't know full of punk queer women and I just, I didn't know that was a thing and I just need a minute to like sit and process that and I look around and I see the girl from the train sitting on her dad's shoulders with like these big clunky headphones, so her ears don't get all messed up and I would think that it would be weird for a kid to be here but she looks like she's exactly where she is supposed to be. And I feel, and I start to realize that I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, too. And so I just let myself hold on to that. And the last thing I want to do is run away and hide in a corner. And I really feel like I belong here.

And I'm so happy. And I've never felt this kind of happy before. And then the band is still in a show and there's a mosh bit that's forming next to me, which I don't go over. I don't go in because I would get squashed like a little tiny person pancake, but I'm on the side of it, and I can still feel like the energy and from it, and I'm still riding off of that excitement that I'm feeling, and that everybody else is feeling, as previously mentioned, and then eventually the band, they stop playing, and I feel and I come back to my body and I realize how much I

have to pee and get a glass of water and I really don't want to leave the room but I realize that I have to and I kind of look at the front woman and I'm like ah and then I leave and get on the subway and I'm looking at all these other people who are at the show with me and I can tell because they're holding like little various bits of merch or whatnot and I'm looking at subway and I'm looking at all these other people who are at the show with me and I can tell because they're holding like little various bits of merch or whatnot. And I'm looking at them and I'm realizing that I'm they're all like me in some way and in so many different ways they're like me, which I really didn't think was a thing and I didn't I didn't realize that I had something to grow up into before. I don't really know what I thought would happen to me,

but I just never had an image that my life would go somewhere and I could stay being like the weirdo person I am and have it make sense in the world around me. I started to realize that the small feeling that I'm holding onto, I don't need it anymore and I never needed it and that I'm not that small person and I'm not going to be small forever and I don't need to be and that I'm going to be okay and it's just so crazy to think about. Thank you.

That was Eddie Lacto. We asked Eddie how they're young herself would describe it now. She said little or little or Eddie would expect me to be less confused than I am right now, but would also be so excited and impressed at how much I've stopped hiding myself. That's really sweet, Eddie. I love that. If you want to see a photo of Eddie on their way to the concert, or if you'd like to hear more from the band Eddie went to see, check out the moth.org slash grown. It's the best place to learn more about grown. Up next, we have a story about finding a community. But first, Fanzo, Eddie's story really got me thinking about

how much music can shape a person, especially when they're younger. For Eddie, it was the band, The Screaming Females. For you, was there an artist or album that really shaped you? Yeah. For you, was there an artist or album that really shaped you? Yeah. She goes by the name of Drake, call me mainstream or whatever. I'm a big, big Drake fan. I just remember like senior, like prom, coming home, like somebody was driving me home.

One of my friends was driving me home and then just one of those, it was like, I'm done. You know what I'm saying? I'm finally done with this. And then like, hold on, we're going home, it was playing. I was driving in a car and you know, like the wind was hitting my face and it just hit differently. And so yeah. That's such a beautiful experience. Like when the music amplifies the emotions you're already feeling. Exactly. Is there a collection of music or an artist that helps you throughout high school or helps you get through certain things or bond with friends?

Mm. So I grew up listening in my house to 80s new wave music. So like, Depeche Mode, Yazoo, Othicure, and somehow you too, which isn't really new way, but anyways. So that was music I grew up listening to, and- What about sting? No, he doesn't fall into that category.

Oh, okay, more category. Just like, I don't know, 80's sad boy music, but anyways, so that's like what I grew up listening to. And then, when anytime I tried to play the cool music that kids in school are playing, I've heard, and she's like, this is not real music. I'm such a fan of your parents, I'm sorry. Your parents are cool.

They're pretty cool. Because honestly, that is beautiful music, and I love it. But then I also just felt like I didn't know what the cool kids were listening to, because I just wanted to listen to Caterpillar by the Cure on repeat, which was the weirdest song ever. And I remember one time making all my cousins watch the music video and then being like, you need help. Like, what is this? Never judge someone for their music preference. That is the message here.

That is the message here. Number one, the number one rule. Yeah. And not Yeah, because then you'll have to like, mean not knowing what the cool kids, not knowing what the cool kids are listening to makes you the cool kid trust. Oh, I wish like 14 year old Aliza could hear that. Boy, does she need to hear that? Alice to Bane is up next with a story that really hits home for me. Yeah.

As a teenager, staying in Washington, DC when I met a guy who was willing to trade my Ramones album for one way bus ticket to New York. This was fortuitous because Gain to New York was part of my super big revenge plan against my parents and everyone who had ever rejected or bullied me for being queer. And the plan went like this, go in New York because that's where you go to be famous. Become a rock star, make everyone sorry. It was only when I got to New York and the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping that I felt like perhaps I should have fleshed out this plan a little bit more to include like shelter of food and more than the $2.17 funding I had.

I was seeing a Washington Square Park trying to act cool like I didn't care, and that was when I met Robin. Robin was another native kid who had determinedly bleached to act cool like I didn't care. And that was when I met Robin. Robin was another native kid who had determinedly bleached his hair just like Mike Lumberow from Hanover Rocks. And he came up and started talking to me. Robin had been on the street since he was 14. We were on a way from foster care, which

could have made some people jaded. But with Robin, it was like it made him more aware of what other people were suffering. So we found out that I didn't have a place to say he said, come stay with me. That first night we listened to music and talked about bands we liked. And then slowly we began to talk about the deeper things in life. And then slowly we began to talk about the deeper things in life. At that time I tried to act like I didn't care about anything because if you don't care, you can't be hurt. But I found myself telling him about things in my childhood that hurt me.

He had reached across the bed to me and pulled me close and said, nobody's going to hurt you when I'm here. And it scared me to death. Because in the world I came from, of course, if somebody gave you a place to stay, they were gonna touch you, but I didn't think that way, like he really cared.

And that was something new and frightening for me. I just come to New York for my revenge plan and not to fall in love or something hallmarked like that. But that was what happened over the next few months. The thing I remember most about our relationship is that Robin had all these dreams for what our life could be. And when he found out that I could paint and draw, he used to tell me stories about where we'd live and the dogs we'd own and the things we'd do. And he'd say, draw that for me. And I would, and he'd put it up on the wall.

Robin had this idea that when we turned 18, everything was going to be different. Like we had had to be strong swimmers in an unforgiving ocean and being 18 was a sure. But as each of us rolled past that mark in our lives, we found out that addictions and problems just follow you. I can remember a few weeks before Robyn was going to turn 19, he looked at me and said, nothing's really going to change, is it? I say, yeah, it is. Of course it is. I point to all the drawings I draw on of our future.

And he smiled at me and said, the thing I like about you most is you've got such a good heart that you're really shitty at lying. I wish it maybe I'd been better liar or I believed more because when Robin turned 19 on his birthday, he took his own life. I left New York. I left behind those drawings and I just wanted to forget. By found that I couldn't forget, but not in a painful way, by a way, that throughout my life when I had wanted to quit, I'd remember all the things he believed I could do.

When I was 51 years old, I had an opportunity to finally go back to New York City after all those years. This time, I was going back to do a show. I wasn't coming out gray-hound bus by flying in on a jet. Coach, but it was a jet. Well, I got to New York. I decided I was going to check into my hotel and then walk around the places where we used to hang out.

All of them seemed strangely clean and gentrified. As I walked around, I allowed myself today, dream of what if Robin had lived. What if he was walking right beside me and we were celebrating coming back to this city with a better life. And then I wondered, would he still love me if he was here today? What we think of the kind person I am. As I was crossing a street and stepping up onto the sidewalk, I looked down at the curb and there was a pink and black sticker and it said, you're doing just fine, keep going.

And I stood there looking at with all the life of New York City around me. And I knew that I had never ever regretted allowing myself to fall in love. That was Alistair Bain. When we asked him how his younger self would describe him now, Alistair said, although it is a bit disappointing that the rock star thing never panned out, being an artist and having seven dogs is a pretty sweet deal. We were curious what Alistair's band sounded like. And sent him an email asking if we could hear a song or two, he responded, sadly we never recorded anything. But perhaps that's best for humanity.

While our hair was on point, our talent may have been lacking. But if you want to see a picture of him during his rock star days. Check out the moth.org slash grown. Alistair and Eddie stories are so different, but they also have some surprising connections. We wanted to explore those connections and get these two amazing storytellers, both at very different stages of their life, to have a conversation about storytelling, music, memory, and so much more. Here's Eddie and Alistair. When I first began listening to music, I was the awkward kid in a small town. And so for me, the connection at first was between me and the music. And I don't know if I expected to find a community

behind the music, but I very quickly did. For me in the 80s as a queer kid, it was really profound for me that in that scene, people didn't care about sexual orientation or gender identity for the most part. That was an incredible feeling to be able to be like, I could be honest about that part of myself. And so, I really went from feeling like I would never fit in anywhere to fitting in there. That's awesome. I still feel very new to Punk, which I feel like is also feels like a good thing. But I also am very struck by how much it has made me feel like powerful in myself, especially when I don't and also having a very similar experience of

finding punk as an outlet for like queer identities was really cool like like a safety in it that I did not very much did not expect to find and it feels very hopeful whenever I think about it and powerful I remember though that, you know, people that sort of saw that I was new to town, a little bit uncertain, and maybe always kind of standing to the side or the corner, they were so friendly and welcoming to me. And at one point, me and three of my friends all shared a one-room, I room, and there was sort of this whole sense of taking care of each other in that scene that went beyond the music and into a sense of choosing family,

especially for young queer people, because at that time, especially, and sadly, it still happens today. A lot of times, families will cut ties with a young person who's queer. And so my friends really became my family. And it was something I never really thought I would have. And it was the most valuable thing in the world to me.

And we could fight like brothers and sisters too. But at the end of the day, we were always there for each other. Yeah. I think there's something really special about Punk and it being very centered around this or it should be centered around this idea of making sure that it is a space for people who feel like they don't fit in. And there's a feeling of like productivity there. And just that not being alone is an active thing. And creating it is creating a space which, yeah, it feels,

it's very powerful. This has been wonderful. Thank you so much for having this conversation with me. I enjoyed it so much. It's always great to meet somebody else who loves the same music and absolutely loved your story and we'll probably listen to it over and over again in the future because I could really relate. Yeah, your story went a lot to me it felt they felt sort of like it was really nice to just be like these are feel vaguely very connected in different just like at different times. You just listen to an episode of grown. If you like what you heard there's four other

episodes available right now wherever you get your podcasts and you can go to grownpod.com for more information on how to listen and the people that make the show. As the senior editor, I am so proud of this podcast. Working with Aliza and Fanzo with our education team, hearing these amazing stories, it's been a magical experience. And we know you'll love it. From all of us here at the Moth, have a story worthy week. Sarah Jane Johnson is the director of Creative Operations at the Moth, have a story worthy week. Sarah Jane Johnson is the director of creative operations at the Moth. She's passionate about the transformative power of storytelling and keeping the trains

running on time. Originally from Nebraska, she lives in Brooklyn with her son. This episode of the Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austin-Geness, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Kathleen Burns, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bulls, Jennifer Birmingham, Kate Tellers, Marina Klucchei, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Leanne Gully, and Aldi Kaza. All Moss stories are true, as remembered by the storytellers.

For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PIRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at pirex.org.