One of the biggest regrets of my Rock and Roll “career” is not keeping a diary during The Fabulous Knobs days. I would contend that the number of incidents of drunken silliness would rival that of The Faces. For six years (’78-84) we played together, lived together, fought together and in David and Debra’s case loved together. Not only did we have our own language (which mostly consisted of putting a “Y” after the first consonant of every word, including a few words that meant something that only we would understand) but we even had our own travel teams, the A.C.C (Asshole car clique, which usually drove the equipment) and the L.C.C. (Little car clique, which usually rode in the Toyota). I remember many a chant of “A.C.C ! A.C.C! A.C.C!”
There are way too many nights that spun out of control to even begin to try to describe. I mean, I wish I could have written down in detail about the time David pissed on Keith in the middle of the night, or the night we threw the TV in the middle of the street, or the night David threw a heavy bottom mic stand at Debra, or nights that David and Keith would be “twin-ing” (wearing the same clothes: white T-shirt with orange bandana,jeans and red Keds), or breaking down in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, or Jack drinking a fifth of Wild Turkey and stealing Becky’s car, or Keith and I fighting in Dick Hodgins house in SC only to finally be kicked out in the middle of the night and driving drunk (mostly David and Keith) and listening to Dave Edmunds “Me and the Boys” wide ass open NON-STOP (for 4 hours!) all the way back to Raleigh,or David kicking over his amp stack, or David and I getting a gun pulled on us by the club owner of Free Advice, or “Jerry-duty” (holding up a cassette player to the mic with Jerry Clower on it), or the “Go to Hell!” plays, or “the Michael Jackson twins”or David and I not letting Keith into the room for 10 minutes only to let him in to ransack the place, (flipping us outta bed, turning lights off and on, flushing the toilet, turning the TV on gag, throwing shit), or almost getting kicked off of the UNCG campus just before a gig and them having to pay us a thousand dollars anyway because of rain, or going into a club in Greensboro and turning right around and walking out, (blowing off the gig and going to Chapel Hill to get drunk), or me being “Tommy Tampax” and standing on a box in the house pulling my pants up and down as someone turned the lights off and on, or the LP record (as frizbees)fight, or playing in our flight jackets because the club owner in Nags Head wanted to keep the door open so folks would know he was open (even though it was 20 degrees outside) and how we put frozen sausages in the walls of the flop house he put us up in, or the time that…..