But I do want to note that tonight is the twentieth anniversary of the first Death's Little Sister show. Here's something I wrote for the tenth anniversary:
"So, anyway, as mentioned earlier, yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the first performance of Death's Little Sister. A whole damn decade. How fucked is that? It seems entirely impossible that so much time has passed and so much has transpired since that freezing night in Athens, Georgia. There were two other bands playing Galaxy 500 that evening, La Guano and Static Lounge, and I cannot remember even the first thing about either of them. I can't even recall the order in which we played. But I was somewhat drunk and sleep deprived and pretty sure we'd get booed offstage. We brought jack-o'-lanterns, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was projected onto the wall behind us while we played. Our asshole drummer tried to set the stage on fire (he skipped out on us right after the show and was never seen again). After we played, I got about an hour's sleep before driving to Atlanta and flying to Chicago for the '96 World Fantasy Convention. Those were the days. Anyway, here's a gothedy band photo to commemorate the date (behind the cut; the asshole drummer is not in the photo), courtesy Matthew C. Grasse":
I would add, looking back twenty years after that night, that I have often wished I'd chosen music over fiction writing. I left the band in February 1997, just as we were sort of getting our shit together, because my agent suggested that the time I was devoting to DLS was hurting my nascent writing career (I'd just sold Silk and had been working with DC/Vertigo for almost a year). They were right, of course, and I took their advice and quit a few days later. But I think I might have been happier today if I hadn't. There's no way to know if that's true; it's just a suspicion I've had for a very, very long time, and fuck knows writing has never given me even half the satisfaction that music did.