First Avenue

Minnesota’s Mainroom
by Chris Riemenschneider
Minnesota Historical Society Press

By far the most famous Minnesota concert venue, First Avenue has hosted thousands of performances in a wide variety of genres, including the early visits of many artists who would later become iconic (i.e., U-2, Björk, Nirvana, Metallica, REM.) This book is a history of the building, the acts that performed there as well as the people behind the scenes. I had a personal history with the place as well, having attended some of the shows that were mentioned in the book so, naturally,  I was interested in how the story of the venue played out on the page.

The biggest act to break from First Ave was, of course, Prince. His Purple Rain movie featured performances shot there, as was the live recording of the title song. It is impossible to overstate how important First Ave was to music in Minnesota. Until Purple Rain broke there was almost no airplay of local artists on pop music radio, and certainly none whatsoever for a mixed race or black group. The 1980s outbreak of Minnesota punk and post-punk (The Replacements, Husker Dü, The Suburbs) was nurtured on the venue’s small stage—The 7th Street Entry.

Riemenschneider’s book also covers the venue’s earlier incarnations as The Depot and Uncle Sam’s. The Depot started life with a bang in 1970 with Joe Cocker’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen (featured in the film of the same title) followed by Poco, The Kinks, Jethro Tull, Alice Cooper, Al Jarreau, Frank Zappa and the Mothers (opening act was The Flying Burrito Brothers with Gram Parsons!), The Small Faces (with Rod Stewart), The James Gang (with Joe Walsh), Iggy Pop and the Stooges, and even Ike and Tina Turner.

By 1972, however, the club was in financial straits and was purchased by American Events which turned it into a dance club—several years before disco became big. There were local bands playing once a week, but its layout (featuring an elevated lighted dance floor in the center of the room) made it hard to hold regular concerts. By the end of the decade, disco was out of fashion and a “new wave” of music, kicked off with a concert by The Ramones, began to be featured in the venue. There were also new DJs, including a young Kevin Cole, who played a hipper and more varied fare.

The 80s were arguably the heyday of Twin Cites music. That story, including the rise of Prince and his cohorts, has been told numerous times. First Ave has gone through reorganization a couple of times (and the collapse of the ceiling in 2015), but is now part of a well-run multiple-venue organization that, barring a downturn in live music attendance, should keep it running for years to come.

This an extremely well-done book, The Minnesota Historical Society Press has long been one of the preeminent specialty publishers in the world; the layout and photographs are excellent and Riemenschneider’s un-fussy writing style is also an asset.

Overall, the saga of First Avenue left me with a sense of sadness, some of the brightest stars in it burned out too soon while many of the smaller players were left with little or nothing after the numerous failures of management left them in the lurch. I personally worked with some of the bands that played there (most notably Steve Kramer and The Wallets) but by the mid-eighties my days in the Minneapolis music scene were coming to an end. I wasn’t enamored of the new music and was just about bankrupt from my rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle of the previous ten years. I did attend a few shows at The Ave, but the grungy nature of the space and the hassle of being in downtown Minneapolis made it my least favorite of the large clubs.


The Wallets, First Avenue, circa 1984

Rain Harder

“There’s this kid, hanging out at Cookhouse Studios, he can do it all… ”

That was the first I heard about Prince Rogers Nelson.

This mysterious force, almost otherworldly, walking the same streets, frequenting some of the same venues, then exploding into super-stardom but never letting it change him. He was always, and probably will always be, the standard by which all other Twin Cities-based musical acts will be judged by (Dylan only lived in Minneapolis for less than a year.) I kept almost crossing paths with him. I worked with his Purple Rain Drummer just before he joined The Revolution, and worked in a venue the day after a scene from that movie was shot there. He did appear once at a venue I was working. We didn’t speak. He went on to bigger and better things, but never really left the area where he grew up.

In this era of changing sex roles and struggles for empowerment, Prince was a pioneer who never preached—he just did it: championing women in his bands, androgyny in fashion and lifestyle, even his numerous forays into weirdness of various sorts, he just did it on his own terms. Before his legendary Super Bowl half-time show, a nervous television producer asked him if he was “O.K.” with the rain that was drenching the stadium. Prince simply said, “Can you make it rain harder?”

In this era of disposable corporate music, Prince was one artist who could really play, anyone who performed with him had to rise to his level.

New Signage Installed

A new sign, featuring the name change and new school colors (purple and black) has been installed at the 42nd street entrance of what was once Minneapolis Patrick Henry—my old high school.

While details have yet to be worked out on merchandising and promotional items, it is understood that the school uniforms will be in the new colors (purple, black) with the addition of raspberry berets.

There are also three candidates for the new rouser: Purple Rain, When Doves Cry, and Sexy M/F.

Note: this is “fake news” although there is actually a chance that it may become real!

B.P.

Jay's Longhorn Bar was one of the primary focal points of the Minneapolis Punk-Rock scene in the late 70s. It was a place where The Replacements and Husker Dü emerged as musical forces. How the band I was working with, The Explodo Boys, managed to land a gig there was always completely beyond my understanding. We were playing 60s style blue-eyed soul, with a little older rock, some New Orleans tunes and a few jazzy instrumentals thrown in. Nevertheless, we had a mid-week gig, starting on a Wednesday.

It was also the only place we ever got heckled.

The bouncer, a black man named Jerome, dug us however. One of our more ambitious numbers was a James Brown medley: three of the Godfather of Soul's best dance tunes, ending with Papa's Got a Brand New Bag. We had a singer who did it justice. Jerome asked him if he would play it again Thursday as he had some friends whom he thought would like to hear it.

The next night, at the start of the third set, I sensed a group of people standing right behind my position at the sound board. Jerome’s friends were there. I was about to turn around and say hello when the band started with the JB tunes. Our singer was beside himself that night, the band never sounded better. We didn’t get heckled. After the song was over Jerome’s friends left.

Later on, we found out they were from bands called Flyte Tyme and Grand Central, two black groups that were later to merge into one called The Time. There was a shorter, younger guy there as well. The next time I saw them was at the movies. The film was Purple Rain.

The Explodo Boys lasted another year, fizzling out due to the usual reasons. We managed to win The Minnesota Music Awards “Critics Choice” as the best band of 1979; the week after we broke up! Jerome Benton’s friends- Terry Lewis, Jimmy Jam, Morris Day, Jesse Johnson and others put out gold and platinum records, Lewis and Jimmy Jam would go on to produce platinum records for Janet Jackson and many others. The next year Prince debuted, and he won most of the Minnesota music awards for several years after that.


The history of the Minnesota music scene was divided here:

B.P.= Before Prince

A.P.= After Prince

Heading for the Pourhouse

Last fall I had the privilege to attend a “Guitar Summit”, a benefit for Musicares, a Grammy-sponsored organization set up to help out musicians in need of medical assistance. It was held in a newer club in downtown Minneapolis: The Pourhouse. A two-story space carved out of the venerable Lumber Exchange Building,
a Minneapolis landmark since 1885. The performers were venerable as well—an elite collection of Minnesota's finest rock and blues guitarist of the sixties and seventies.



There were some youngsters represented as well, playing "da blooz" fast and furiously:



That‘s Bobby Z, Prince’s Purple Rain drummer, on the skins.

It is usually a bittersweet affair to see this kind of show—the lack of rehearsal and, in a few cases, the loss of “chops” makes for an uneven night of music. The Barber and Peterson dynasties were featured as well. Fine musicians—but not guitarists—turning a guitar summit into a sideways version of Last Waltz, complete with a version of Dylan‘s Forever Young as an encore.