You'd Prefer a Reunion

Somewhere, lost in my youth are scattered moments revolving around three letters: Hum.

Drew hated their signature song as redundant and overplayed. That guy from Com 120 had a hat with their name on it. I worked feverishly to perfect the drop-D rippage they play, only to realize I'll never come close to the giant guitar sound. Who cares how many times I hear knock-offs at the Jefferson Tap, there will never be another Hum.

She's got colors to spare,

and I don't care what they choose,

I've got nothing to do,

And nothing like you left to lose.

One story rises above the rest though, and the inclusion of hand-written signs and scotch tape make for the marks of myth and mirth. I think it was November 14, 1997 but I could be wrong.

The scene was Cincinnati and Tom and I were dropping into Bogarts to see Goldfinger and the Aqua Bats. Almost like an afterthought I checked out the doorways of the places we'd passed and noticed that Sudsy Malones was hosting a band that night named Hum. Sudsy had taken the time and Sharpies to make a homemade sign to press against the door.

"Funny," I thought. "They've ripped off one of my favorite band's name."

Little did I know. That was the closest I would get to seeing them live.

Seriously, the sign on the door was hand-written and made no allusion to their national appeal or alt-rock genius. Later generations would try to lump them with Man or Astro-man, but I knew if only for a moment that night I was missing something special in order to hear "Mable" live one more time.

tempus fugit

I came close. Little chance remains for more than a VH1 charade. Thank God for Cadillac.