How the hell did David Thomas, a.k.a. Crocus Behemoth, end up fronting two of the greatest bands in history?
He was a big guy, far from a pinup, and looked like a ’50s dad tired after a long day selling appliances. And he sang like Big Bird. Definitely not the coolest kid in class, but undoubtedly the smartest. Nothing about him even remotely screamed "star" — and I suspect he’d angrily shun such a notion anyway — but that’s precisely why he was one of the truest rock stars and artists you’d ever meet.
I’m glad I did.
Seeing Rocket from the Tombs in 2003 in Hollywood blew my mind. I bought Rocket Redux soon after and discovered, in the liner notes, that my co-worker John Thompson was THAT John Thompson.
John. Another beautiful oddball. He saw the oddball in me and promptly hooked me up with Pere Ubu paraphernalia that would give the typical record collector a stroke. He also put me in touch with David — his one-time roommate, which made all the sense in the world — when I mentioned I wanted to write about Rocket from the Tombs.
John cautioned me that David could be a tad tough. I figured as much.
He was lovely. Articulate and to the point. Someone who clearly didn’t suffer fools gladly. I just made sure not to be one on the phone. Emails were exchanged. I still have them. Exactly what you’d expect. They’re irreplaceable to me.
David and I met up after a Pale Boys gig at Spaceland a bit further down the calendar. He plopped himself at the edge of the stage after the show and sold merch out of a cardboard box. No glamour. No backstage pass. Just the real thing. A rock star. (Sorry, Crocus, but you were. Probably the last one we’ll ever see.)
I once asked him what kept him going. Here was his response:
"An overwhelming sense of failure and utter dread of public humiliation, basically. I don't think I've done anything right, so I don't want to quit until I get it right. I'm tired of the humiliation of not getting it right. That's what keeps me going. If I ever get it right, I'll quit that day."
I’ve never heard more beautiful words.
And I’ll never hear something like “30 Seconds Over Tokyo” again.
We all remember our first time with that single, don’t we?
Here’s the thing, David. You had it right from Day One; the rest of us are just struggling to catch up.
Goddamn, you were something else.
Tell John I miss him.
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
