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| Pageninetynine, circa 2002 (from the Pageninetynine Facebook page) |
The other is the subject of today's post. Their name is Pageninetynine (or Pg. 99, or Page 99), and even if they hadn't blown up among a certain type of punk rock listener in the years after their initial break-up, they'd still be one of my favorite bands I've ever seen. As time passes, I can only recall fragments, like a montage of amazing moments. There was the last show at the old Ottobar, where Blake or Chris got passed amongst the crowd and kicked a hole in the the ceiling that remained even after the Talking Head moved into the location. There was the last Wilson Center show, and the stage flexing under the weight of a hundred kids pulsing to "By the Fireplace In White". There was the night that they and Majority Rule played with Cro-Mags and Most Precious Blood at the "new" Ottobar; every security guy was onsite to ward off a skinhead vs. hipster brawl that never took place. I also seem to recall them opening for Earth Crisis at St. Andrews in College Park, and a bunch of barbeque jokes being made. So many Reptilian shows, and shows where they were the second of six bands on the campus of Johns Hopkins, and sticky basements in the DC suburbs because there was NO WAY the 9:30 Club was going to let these freaky kids play that stage.
Were they really only a band for six years? There's no chance that was the case; it simply cannot be true, no matter what the historical records say. They were just a ubiquitous part of the scene; the guys from NoVA that fit in so well with what was happening in Baltimore at the time. And they played with such heart, such passion, that one couldn't help but become not just a fan, but rabidly so. Then, one day, it was done, splintering into Mannequin and the Malady and Haram and Pygmy Lush.
Do you remember that time, when you were young and before Green Day was on MTV, when you'd see another kid in a Misfits t-shirt or wearing a painted leather jacket and you'd immediately talk to them? Because you had found a kindred spirit, and there weren't a lot of them out there. It's still like that when I wear the old Reptilian "Document #5" t-shirt I got the week the records showed up in the store. I can't really wear it comfortably anymore because I'm probably 100 lbs. heavier than I was then, but when I DO squeeze into it, I occasionally get that native nod, and every once in a great while, I'll make a new friend. There are far too few shibboleths left in the world, riddles that, upon solving, open up something memorable and previously unseen. Pageninetynine was like that for me.
They've reunited now twice, mostly recently in 2018 and 2019 as a series of benefits for local charities in each town they played. Their first reunion, which I regrettably bailed on, saw them play the Black Cat in DC and at Best Friends Day, the annual Richmond outdoor show every year. It occurred to me that the 2020 BFD would be coming up in a few weeks. Here's that Best Friends Day set from 2011. I honestly cannot remember where I got this initially.
Love your friends. Die laughing. Fucking A right.
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