Friday Night at the Che Café
By Kent Manthie
During World War II the campus of what’s now UCSD was appropriated by the US Army for their enlisted men as a barracks, a camp by the sea for soldiers in training before they were off to fight the bloody conflict in the Pacific or Europe.
Well, the building that was used for said enlisted men to take showers has been preserved after all this time, the original wooden structures; now it is the home of Che Café, a sort of independent free state in the middle of the UCSD fiefdom, kind of like Lesotho within South Africa (or Monaco in the south of France). A self-styled radical social change collective, the Che is a community hang out, a volunteer-run organization that happens to hold cool events and happenings, has an all-volunteer vegan café, a place that is open to all sorts of grass roots projects, that hosts groups and is a meeting place for like minded individuals to congregate and sometimes rock out and party, sometimes, dance and sing, sometimes a sanctuary for consciousness-raising events that strive to accomplish positive outcomes and awareness.
I only wish there were places like that in the heart of the city, in abandoned, needy neighborhoods where stuff like this could really agitate for change; or gentrified or gentrifying neighborhoods, once bohemian haunts now turned into yuppie ghettos.
Friday, July 7, 2006 at the Che it was a raucous showcase of punk rock, thrash metal and various odds and ends, including a Crispin Glover look-alike (albeit a fat CG). The fun was mainly had by the crazy cats in the audience who were obliviously pinballing around. Opening up the night was a white version of the late Wesley Willis who went by the moniker Harry Merry. Mr. Merry did his level best to act retarded, goofing on this Yamaha synthesizer that had preprogrammed drums and backup bass and stuff, playing the keyboard with a toy-piano effect programmed on it. At first, with the overplayed goofiness and fake innocent charm I thought he was kind of in the same vein as Daniel Johnston, although Johnston seems like Lou Reed comparatively; but it was pointed out to me, more aptly, that Harry Merry wasn’t unlike Wesley Willis, the late great schizophrenic crooner (no, really, he was DSM-certified). He even had to refer to notes with the lyrics, just as Willis used to hold a binder on stage with the lyrics scribbled on notepaper within. At least Harry Merry didn’t say “Rock over London” after every song. It was kind of funny, kind of cute at first, the first couple songs had a kooky kind of hook to them, but it wore thin before it ended. I thought for a second that it was Crispin Glover when he first came on stage. No, it wasn’t, CG is much thinner and saner.
It was a loud, wild rockfest, from there on out; no, more like a thrashfest. Some Girls came out and poured salt over everyone’s self-inflicted knife wounds. High intensity thrash-core that incited much dancing and toe-tapping was the order of the night. Grr.
Quintron was the headliner, if there was a headliner. Well, they played last, anyway. All the undead teenagers dancing ‘til dawn were bopping about, climbing the walls, frenzied masses, it was a melee; the music went swirling on until they dropped and closing time tolled.
The whole night was a flashback to the wild days of my youth and thought of the many crazed parties with bands playing and houses filled from the attic to the basement; kegs in the garage. Of course, the Che is an all-ages venue – there is no alcohol sold there, plenty of healthy, non-animal related stuff to eat, though. Still, the energy and the excitement and the intensity of the collective exuberance of youth were the same. What a rush. Check out the website at: http://checafe.ucsd.edu – they could always use help from volunteers. – KM.