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6 [ Monday, December 3, 2001 | The Red a Black
VARIETY
Ftewell
cheers for
Bumtstone
Classic Rant
Patrick Saunders
Norm Peterson enters the
familiar confines of “Cheers”
and finds his seat at the cor
ner of the bar.
Sam: What’d you like,
Normie?
Norm: A reason to live.
Gimme a beer.
The last beer has been
poured at Athens’ pre-emi
nent watering hole, the clos
est possible thing to a
“Cheers”-like atmosphere,
and one hell of a good extra
reason to live: Bumtstone
Brewhouse.
Go ahead and insert your
“Greatest TV Theme Songs”
CD now and put Track 4 on
repeat.
“Making your way in the
world today takes everything
you got...”
I discovered Bumtstone
about two and a half years
ago when I went to interview
the manager for a story about
the new bars in Athens.
Entering the bar, I was
intoxicated by the atmo
sphere this new establish
ment offered. There were
massive brewing tanks in the
front comer, a right mix of
light at the bar and slight
darkness in the seating area
and as much stained wood as
one could find in the greater
Clarke County area.
I returned to Bumtstone a
short while later, not to follow
up on the interview, but to
imbibe. That’s when the
atmosphere became just that
I— atmosphere — and the true
selling point presented itself
in a drinking glass with eagles
wings spread protectively
around it.
Aaahhh, Bumtstone’s
house brews, one of those
things I think I’ll remember
about my college years — if
only they didn’t contribute to
me forgetting about so much
else.
The house menu included
four different brews to choose
from each night, all of the
highest quality. I stuck to the
India Pale Ale, Espresso
Stout, or the Broad River
Weizen, wisely named so as to
conjure up thoughts of fresh
hops instead of being named
the Oconee River Weizen and
conjuring up thoughts of ass.
Bumtstone also had its
own version of Sam Malone
with a bartender named
Israel. I doubt Israel’s a
recovering alcoholic or former
star pitcher for the Boston
Red Sox, but he can still
make a drink with the best of
them and his girlfriend is
much easier to be around
Than Shelley Long.
Bumtstone’s version of
Norm existed in the guise of
local roustabout and philoso
pher extraordinaire Ort. He’s
also the only person bom
after 1832 that I would con
sider calling a “roustabout”.
Many know Ort from
“Athens, GA: Inside/Out,” the
1987 documentary about the
early days of the local music
and arts scene.
Another great thing about
the bar was that you didn’t
have to go upstairs to
Melville’s to get a bite to eat,
because Bumtstone was also
a restaurant.
One of Bumtstone’s main
selling points was the fact
that it was never too packed,
and it never took you half an
lhour to get a drink.
In fact, the bar gained a
nickname due to this slight
anonymity common among
some circles: “the hidden
treasure.”
Then, people might
assume that that particular
reason explains why they’re
out of business, but the clos
ing is due more to the fact
that an associate of the bar
apparently robbed them.
Still, a little extra business
could’ve saved it though.
Going to a place where
everyone knows your name
usually only happens on tele
vision. That’s still pretty
much the case here, but at
least at Bumtstone, I knew
everyone there was willing to
learn my name.
You may now skip to
Track 5. “Fame! I’m gonna
live forever, I’m gonna learn
how to fly — high!...”
— Patrick Saunders is a
senior in telecommunica
tions. Classic Rant is a vari
ety column appearing weekly.
Ben Folds still rocks; fans say Amen
With closed streets and hordes of peo
ple, the kids from the suburbs were get
ting frustrated outside the 40 Watt Club.
Pushing against the tiny stage,
hundreds of fans waited to see their new
hero, so to speak.
Ben Folds, now without the ‘five,’
brought his entire new entourage to the
stage. This time, he even had a guitar
player.
The opening act, Clem Snide — a two-
piece band — played at 9:45 p.m. and
played a decent 30-minute set. Clem
Snide’s sound reminded me of pieces of
songs heard before, sometimes echoing
Misfits or Joy Division, except with a
comedic attitude.
Twenty minutes after Clem Snide
vacated the stage, Folds arrived with the
same energy he’s had since his early days.
Folds’ main set consisted of songs
from his solo-album, “Rockin’ The
Suburbs,” including “Annie Waits” and
“Still Fighting It.” Folds also included a
new song not on the American version of
his new album titled, “Hiro” — a song
about a 51-year-old Japanese man in love
with his daughter’s best friend.
The highlight of the main set was, of
course, Folds’ use of a keyboard guitar,
extinct since the days which Zack Attack
ruled. Folds’ used the odd-looking instru
ment for the title-track of the album.
During the song about angry white males
in the suburbs, Folds donned a red hat
with his initials, poking fun at Fred Durst
and other angry suburbanites.
The best part of the show was the
encore that included more new solo
songs of Folds’ and some from the Ben
Folds Five days.
Concluding with the best break-up
song in the world, “Song for the
Dumped” led the band into a loud frenzy
of throwing Foghat records and pieces of
the piano (no one knows where the
Foghat records came from).
The most amazing thing from the
show was the audience. Nearly everyone
knew the lyrics to each song, including
the new ones. Audience participation was
at a high throughout the show, but no
one gave Folds back his black T-shirt.
— Parker Davidson
SPECIAL | The Red a Black
A Ben Folds’ show at the
40 Watt Thursday night
had a large turn-out.
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