Hear What I’m Dealin’ With

Hi there.

I wrote a mystery novel.

It’s called Tucson ’93.

It involves a mystery and takes place in Tucson during the summer of 1993.

And I’m excited for everyone to get a chance to read it.

This is the Soundtrack

This was supposed to be a blog post about how Tucson ’93 has a soundtrack.

Or maybe soundtrack isn’t correct.

Let me start again.

This was supposed to be a blog post about how Tucson ’93 has lots of scenes in which people listen to music.

Yeah, that’s better.

If I was going to write about that particular time period in that particular place, music was always going to emerge as a primary character.

Why? Three reasons.

First, the music of 1993 is about as good as it gets. Like Grunge? Pearl Jam and Nirvana dropped new albums. How about Hip Hop? Can I interest you in albums from A Tribe Called Quest, Snoop, and Wu-Tang Clan. More into alternative? Radiohead and Liz Phair released their debuts.

You get the drift.

Second, existing in Tucson at this time meant spending a lot of time in a car, which meant listening to the radio or mixtapes or if you were fancy – CDs, and if you weren’t fancy – a boom box because your car didn’t have a tape player (yes, I was one of those people).

We didn’t have streaming services or podcasts, and it was awesome.

Third, we listened to everything. If you were uncool like me, the radio and MTV really mattered. In one night, you might watch Club MTV, Yo! MTV Raps, Headbangers Ball, and 120 Minutes. We had favorites for sure, but we listened to it all. And it impacted the music we listened to on our own. I remember being on high school basketball bus trips, with my yellow sports Walkman, and switching out the tape for REM’s “Green” and replacing it with Public Enemy’s “Fear of a Black Planet.” That didn’t seem strange at all.

All this to say, I was going to write about all of this and why there are so many songs that appear in Tucson ’93, when something else organically emerged.

 It began when I thought about going to this show in 1992:

I don’t remember many specifics from that show other than being scared to death when Henry Rollins got on stage and a mosh pit instantaneously assembled. But as a college kid attending my first real concert, I do recall being transfixed in such a manner that I believe the Beastie Boys changed my DNA that night. What I felt when they were on stage was something I never felt before. It was as close as I’ve ever had to an out of body experience.

And when the show was over, it was a feeling I knew I wanted to feel again and again. Seeing the Beastie Boys that night opened my eyes, no, my heart to the power of live music. A couple years later I’d see Pearl Jam in Phoenix and those feelings were confirmed and then some. I’ve been to hundreds of shows since that night, from seeing Vampire Weekend with a few hundred people at the now defunct Triple Rock Social Club to Kendrick Lamar at US Bank Stadium. So much has changed in my life over the last 34 years, but that sensation I can only get from live music has never changed.

And then last weekend, I was texting my friend Marc from the Final Four (event drop!) and he sent me this article about Arizona Basketball Coach Tommy Lloyd and his love of the Beastie Boys. Coach Lloyd (who I assume everyone called Tommy or Tom back then, but I think it’s only proper to call him Coach Lloyd) saw them on that very same tour a few months earlier in Salem, Oregon. Here he is describing the show

"Just this grimy armory, probably 5,000 people and total general admission on the floor. I hadn't been in any crazy moshes or anything in my life, and me and like four or five buddies, I think it was almost like a spiritual experience for us that night, just how awesome the show was and our eyes were opened.”

A spiritual experience. That’s exactly what it was.

Knowing that Coach Lloyd felt the same thing I felt, made me wonder how many other kids like me had a similar awakening. I know a few other people who were at the show, all of them are huge music fans, and one is an actual musician. I now think of the Beastie Boys like some kind of musical Pied Pipers, indoctrinating a generation with a love of live music as they toured across the country.

I have lots of theories as to why this happened, a potent mix of the songs from “Check Your Head” (a combination of rap, punk, and funk that is actually good great), plus the live instrumentation, plus the small venues (the Beastie Boys playing the Tucson Convention Center Exhibition Hall isn’t that much different than Taylor Swift playing in your local high school gymnasium), but thinking too deeply on the “why” takes away from the mystery. It happened and that’s what matters.

And it’s why music had to be a big part of Tucson ’93.

Stepping out of your car in 105 degree heat after listening to “Killing In The Name” hits different than stepping out after listening to “That’s The Way Love Goes.” Listening to a mix tape from your girlfriend featuring “Divorce Song” feels much different than watching a sunset with “Yellow Ledbetter” in the background.

Of course there is a Beastie Boys track in the book. Near the very end, our protaganist Uri, crusies around Tucson on an especially hot morning. As he creeps along, “Something’s Got to Give” oozes out of his stereo.

Music to me is magic. It’s makes me feel something I can’t explain for reasons I can’t explain either.

Even though I just spent 1,000 words trying to do just that.

Important reminder (and speaking of music), PLEASE sign up for my newsletter here and I’ll send you the playlist to Tucson’ 93.

See you on the flip side.

-BV