Wiretap-One-Shots: Rockstar, AZ
By Adrian Ryan @drogado_del_gato Artwork by Jeff Lanier@revsoddesigns
Eric has had the luck of living with many of the local legends of the music and performing arts scene that Tempe, Arizona has been known for. He plays music, and works back of the house at some of your favorite kitchens on Mill Ave. We sat down over a blunt for him to tell me about his living next door to one of Tempe’s living rockstars, Space-Rig! The man, the myth, and the guitar rig of the grunge-psychedelic sound that once shook Tempe venues. Eric tells me “the guy was named Goob, and he was a burned out old dope-head, real slim and wearing Willie Nelson style-braids.” He played with a well known band in the 90’s that had a jam sound, but his guitar rig was his signature. The homemade sound is a guitar running through a bass head connected to a quilt of different speakers and pedals. “I didn’t mind Goob, we jammed, drank Cabo, and he always had some strong hippie schwag he’d roll up.” Eric says. He lived in the front House while Goob and his “roommates” lived in the back house up a long driveway that went past their house.
I had my girlfriend and her younger sister living with me at the time. We were a young couple helping her family, because their dad attended ASU. Eric tells me “Her Dad was also a musician who played in several jam bands in Tempe and idolized Goob. I would come home to his car in our driveway and him hanging out with Goob at his house. I welcomed it because I could learn all of Goob’s secrets to shredding while scoring points with her Dad. We’d also be drinking and smoking some good regg weed for free before dispensaries were a thing.” Eric tells me life was good, but a bit peculiar because of the crowd who Goob was running with. He rode an old motorcycle, and frequently had company on the back of his bike as well as accompanying him when pulling in. “I never paid any mind to the motorcycle because Goob would always wave and all twenty bikers he pulled in with, would wave too.” Eric continues “We would see Goob twice a day like clockwork, and he would always wave when pulling into the driveway with a stampede of bikers.”
“Depending on the day of the week, they might dip into some mushrooms midday, and they would keep to their front yard, wave and smile.” Eric says before telling me he once saw them playing badminton while listening to ABBA. Eric tells me about his best interaction with Goob. “I had seen him ride out with his crew, and right around that time, I decided to walk to Circle K for some goodies. I walked to the end of the driveway and turned on to our little back street by the 101 and Apache. I walked twenty feet from the house and smelled what I thought was a gas leak nearby. I look down and find a fat ounce of hippie skunk that was just sitting in the road. I thanked the weed gods, and went to Circle K for drinks, snacks, and papers!” Eric made his purchase and quickly returned home to do what he does best, smoke a fat joint! He smokes, and proceeds to jump on the Nintendo 64 until he hears his girlfriend get home later that afternoon. He greets her and sees her Dad’s car in the driveway when she asks “what’s going on?” Eric, confused, asks her what she meant to which she replied “Goob, My dad, and like 10 bikers are out in the street looking for spare change I think?”
Eric, now even more confused, walks out the front door and sees the dozen bikers walking in the road looking like crows picking up bread crumbs. He tells me “I walked out and asked what was happening, and Goob came up to me. He looked annoyed, and proceeded to tell me about how he lost a few lids. I wasn’t familiar with the term, and asked him. “lids to what?” He says Goob laughed and said “My sanity mostly, but not actual lids, I lost my weed buddy! Eric, laughing now, says “Goob you’re gonna love me as much as I do you neighbor!” Eric ran inside to get Goob’s weed, and reunited the local legend with his herb. Eric tells me “Goob wasn’t even mad that I smoked some, in fact he gave me an ounce of my own just for being honest. To this day, he has to be the best neighbor I ever had, and I’ll never forget how amazing a musician he was!” In honor of all local musicians and the return of live music, I salute you!
Read more original short stories.
Adrian Ryan was born in New Mexico and attended school since elementary in Arizona, his time growing up split between the two states. He hopes to work towards recreational cannabis, enjoys reading, writing, film, music, and also writing music.
Comments