April 1988, Century Hall, Milwaukee, WI - Century Hall was one of the first places I ever saw music when I moved to Milwaukee. And what a joint it was! Two levels with hardwood floors that yielded those old dance hall acoustics, and white/yellow lights. It wasn't a hardcore place. The bands/acts I saw there were those uncategorizable acts, like Brave Combo or Paul Cebar. I curse that bastard Dan Giwosky for torching the joint. You could smell that burning hardwood for weeks, rubbing your face in the ashes of so much history.
It was at Century Hall where I took this picture of Jonathan Richman. Richman always seems to blow into town right when everybody needs him. Just when we're ready to give up and stop believing in anything, there he is, singing about the joys of the Ice Cream Man, the need for Affection, the worry of a friend in the Hospital. Just when you've had enough of ironic humor that gives you the smirks, he elicits a true groaning guffaw with his terrible puns and his precise comedic timing, and has you in tears of self-recognition with his basic but heart-wrenching songs, delivered with that on-key-but-with-a-nasty-headcold tenor of his that frees you up from being afraid to sing along. Six or seven of us packed into this crappy old Nissan hatchback on the way to the show. Somebody had brought up the fact that someone they knew somebody who hated Jonathan Richman. "Well," I said, brushing off the comment, "they can go to hell as far as I'm concerned." And one of the seven of us corrected me: "Anybody who hates Jonathan Richman is already in hell."
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