It was a time of shifting tides in the music landscape, the keyboard-laden '80s in the rear-view mirror as grunge and innovative speed funk stepped to the forefront. Both Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers were still underground bands, poised to take center stage and blow minds.
So here we were on the corner of Harvard and Comm. Aves, walking out into the night to this place called the Cage, underneath the now-defunct Molly's.
After a work day that did not involve email or web surfing (that was a good six years away) and a quick run along the Esplanade with a Walkman plugged into our ears after doing a load of colors down at the corner laudromat, we headed over to the Cage.
The bill was Dogzilla and Hell Toupee and they rocked and rattled the Cage until early the next morning. The place was packed and quite the fire hazard. It had the feel of the Rath, but much more claustrophobic.
We rocked until we rotted and had lunch with Ed.
The Michelobs went down easy.
It was a different time, a different place, a place that no longer exists.
But for that moment, that night, 20 years ago, we were young and alive.