We started our own Black Flag reunion. We thought the time was right. We called it Black Flag Reunion (featuring no actual members of Black Flag). We thought that would make things clear.
There’s a precedent for this kind of thing. We remembered the Tone Locust. We thought we knew what we were doing.
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When we gave interviews, we’d say things like, “All of our members have read Get In the Van many times, and feel that they know what it’s like to be a touring member of the band.”
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“Man, this is just like when Henry was mad at me that one time.”
“That wasn’t you. That was Greg Ginn. Also, when that actually happened, you were eight.”
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Our roadie had never heard Black Flag before going on tour with us. He had heard the Dirty Projectors album where they kind of play Black Flag covers. He said, “I was expecting more warbling.” Yeah, we told him. We get that a lot.
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We shouted, “Get in the van!” at each other a lot.
We were touring in two 1998 Honda Civics. Sometimes we got confused.
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We ended up opening four shows for a ska-punk band in the Midwest. “I can’t skank to this!” some kid yelled at us. He threw a beer can at not-Greg’s head. It was an empty beer can, though, so it didn’t make it too far.
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We were told we’d be playing the Pitchfork Festival. When we got to the hotel ballroom, we realized it was actually a convention of pitchfork salesmen. They all liked “TV Party,” though, so that was pretty cool.
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Eventually we called it a day. Our drummer keeps talking about starting Black Flag Reunion Reunion. I think we’re okay with that.
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