I have hundreds of Mohawk Place-related memories. I've sold hundreds of tickets to shows that I have played there. I've probably spent hundreds of dollars buying tickets to shows being held there. I've been in and around it since I was 16 years old (that's roughly seven years, if you're interested). I could sit here and tell you that my favorite memory of Mohawk Place was opening up for a sweet band or seeing either of the Buckley brothers (of Every Time I Die fame) play there for the last time ever, but the story I have chosen is a bit more humorous. At least to me.
Way back when, I was in an "indie-pop" band... That's at least what we called it to avoid embarrassment in those days. We were trudging along in the local Buffalo "indie-pop" circuit which consisted of about ten bands, all of which fought hard to pick up good shows and new fans. It didn't really matter how hard our piano player could shred, or how some of our vocal parts went all the way up to a high C# (I know, very impressive) - nobody seemed to really care about us that much. But that's neither here nor there... Well, okay, maybe it's still here. But we had some good songs and we were at least decent musicians, AND we were selling 50+ tickets to our shows. That was good enough for me.
Anyways, after a few years of opening up for other awful local bands and getting the short end of the stick (an ill-fated broken promise of $1,000 to play a bunch of classic rock covers at a birthday party had a lot to do with it), we decided to take some time off. We figured, what the hell, maybe our "indie-pop" phase had finally run it's course. Amazingly enough, once we decided to hang up the towel, a bone finally got thrown our way. We were given the opening slot on a LIGHTS show. Yes, this is the same LIGHTS that played the Harbor this year (what I am trying to say is that I am a big deal). Needless to say, the four of us were starstruck, not only because there were going to be people who actually wanted to come see a show that we were playing, but also because LIGHTS is the epitome of every not-quite-out-of-college, not-quite-twenty-something, hey-girlz-I'm-totally-a-nerd-lol, guy's fantasy. That's a pretty good description of the four dudes who made up my band at the time. It's still a good description of us actually. So we dusted off our instruments, threw together a set, and crossed our fingers that LIGHTS was going to think we were cool.
So there we are the day of the show. One of my bandmates decided to get pretty drunk before we played. Me, being an underage anxious ball of nerves, started freaking out when he was nowhere to be found with five minutes to our set. Regardless, in his usual fashion, he wanders into Mohawk Place just in time, gets in front of his piano, and whips out an ungodly keyboard riff (they do, in fact, exist). It was a fun show, even though we knowingly went into it knowing it would probably be our last. We even snuck some LIGHTS lyrics into one of our songs hoping she would notice... We tried to say hello to her from the stage, but she wasn't even in the venue. We found out later she was playing World of Warcraft... how could we blame her?
So our keyboardist got off the hook for being drunk and not showing up until the very last second... But whatever, it was a fun show. At that point, we were still promoting our latest release, a 7-song EP we called Pineapple Music; so after the other bands came and went and LIGHTS put on a long set of swirly, synthy pop music, our still-tipsy keyboardist decided to approach her with our CD and ask her what she thought. He also thought it would be a great idea to give her his number, so she could call him on the phone with her thoughts. I will admit, she was very nice and they had a decent conversation - which included a hug from her and an apology for missing our set. It was only on our ride home that my bandmate, now starting to sober up, came to the horrible realization that he gave his best friend's number to LIGHTS instead of his own.
In case you're wondering, no, she never called his best friend. None of us ever talked to or saw her in person again after that day. But the look on my bandmate's face when he realized he gave the archetypal "girl of his dreams" his best friend's number instead of his own is priceless. It's a memory I'll always cherish.
So thank you Mohawk Place for offering me something to always hold over my friend's head - I'll never let him live it down.
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