Kids in Philly by Marah; a masterpiece in street rock
Our old mate Dave and his friend Bruce
I flipped the switch. The music played. Bolesy was a “Marah” virgin. His little Bangor ears had never heard such majesty. Marah used to be my favourite band. They are a rock band from Philadelphia and their music is as cool as fuck. It says “I don’t mind being Coney Island-Jersey old style because I’m going to fuck you up big-style.” If their music was a building it would be the Chrysler Building. Bolsey had lived an empty life up to that point. Instantly, he became enamoured with the beauty of the young Bielenko brothers. It was like showing a child a Nintendo Wii for the first time. He laughed with a profound delight. I laughed too, but I wasn’t sure why. I was his Magical musical gatekeeper for that moment and it was a privilege. It’s just a privilege knowing the Boles. He is a quiet genius and a wondrous philanthropist. He was probably lying about liking Marah but I didn’t care as he became the only other person in the world who I knew who liked “Marah”. And even if it was a lie, it was a lie that I would hold onto for dear life.
Bolesy and I were studying in Philadelphia at the time. It was a fantastic time of watermelons, cool beers al fresco, sunshine and sorority houses. Well that was me, Bolesy spent most of the day studying and discovering new theories. He was Archimedes and serendipity was his only bed fellow. I felt free like a Chris Cornell vocal ad-lib; soaring into the unknown with a very high probability of death. Bolesy, the eternal gent, is a model for living. Often when we were strolling through a park he would stop abruptly and point out a bird and say “Look Mojo, there’s a hummingbird!” And then we would stop and have a wee look at a bird. We would smile and often go into hysterics at the wee bird. “Look at its wee legs! Awh...so small...yet so resilient. He’s just like you Bolesy.” Then he would hit me with his walking cane. Ah yes, better times. It was nice to go to a park with someone not obsessed with tits and ass. Then one day, I was walking home from a long session in the Orthodontic department and I seen a poster.
“MARAH LIVE! IN THE KHYBER!”
Fook me! I premature ejaculated and ran home crying to Bolesy.
Mojo (M): Bolesy! Marah are playing in Philly!
Bolesy (B): What? I can’t hear you through your tears.
M: Fuck me, Marah are playing in Philly!
B; What?
M: Marah! Bolesy! I let you hear them the other day. Remember?
B: What?
M: Remember you laughed with pure delight at their seminal classic “Kids in Philly”?
B: Who? What?
M: Bolsey?
I realised I had disturbed him during a smoothie. This was a mistake. Bolesy = Smoothie. Smoothie = Bolesy. Walking in on Bolesy drinking a smoothie is like walking in a couple making love. I felt bad about the whole encounter and hid under my bed crying for half an hour. I hated myself.
Mojo: Sorry Bolesy for disturbing you earlier.
Bolesy: Ah, that’s ok Mojo. What were you squealing at me now?
Mojo: Marah are playing in the Khyber in Philly!
Bolesy: Let’s go!
Mojo: Really?
Bolesy: Let’s go. You bet.
It was one of the greatest moments of my life. We got our tickets on a Monsoon-like Saturday from the Khyber and waited impatiently for a week until the night of the concert. If this was a film there’d be a musical montage (preferably a Huey Lewis and the News song) with us going to the park, looking at birds, reading in the park, running around the hospitals of U-Penn in our surgical gowns high-5ing other men and women in surgical gowns and me trying to penetrate the sorority houses around the university. We wouldn’t wait but time made us wait. I erected a shrine dedicated to Marah and I would spend 2 hours each day dancing in front of it to their music.
The day of the gig arrived. I wet myself that morning. We took a bus down to the Khyber which was on the southside of the city on second street. It was a great wee pub and it had only two small rooms. One with a bar and one with a very small stage. It’s decor had a quiet confidence and I just wanted to ride all of it’s clientele. I had found my home. Then the crowd came. There was about 30 people in the audience. It was the direct opposite of Oasis in Maine Road in Manchester. The Khyber was Marah’s local but yet fuck all people in Philly or in the world know or like them. Then they took to the stage. Wow. I was in Philly watching my favourite band in their local and I was inebriated and happy. They began with an instrumental version of “The Rocky Theme”. I shat myself with excitement. Something mystical was happening on the stage. It felt like a baptism; a turning point in my emotional evolution. They played most songs from the “Kids in Philly” album and with every song they made another dream of mine come true. The venue was so small every member of the audience could have raped the Bielenko brothers if they had wanted to. The band despite the low turn-out were rocking out and giving us their heart and soul. I thought this was admirable. They could have just told us all to fuck off but they beat those drums and hammered those guitars and gave it their all. During the gig Dave and Serge came into the crowd for a guitar duel and I said to bolesy;
Mojo: “I’m gonna kick that cunt up the hole”
Bolesy: “No! You’d never.”
I then kicked Serge Beilenko up the hole mid-solo. It was an affectionate kick. I think he liked it. Bolesy then said “fuck sake, I didn’t think you’d actually kick him up the hole. You’re a dick Mojo. Why’d you do that?”
I didn’t know why I done it. Then I started to hate myself again and felt like the most evil man in the world. I must have been the most evil man in the world, at that moment. I apologised to Bolesy as I applauded the band like a hard-up circus sealion. I seen a real hot girl at the bar and became happy again. I put on my sexiest grin. She was like putty in our hands. I thought she may like me more than Bolesy but that ’s always the way. I always win out in that often hard-fought battle. She was giggling like a good-thing and I got a tap on the shoulder. It was Dave Bielenko. He smiled at the girl. She nodded and said we were wild craic.
"Hey Dave, these guys are from the University of Ireland! And ones called Mojo!"
She must've been his girlfriend as they had a deep connection beyond words. It was either that or Dave was THE MASTER PULVERIZER. Thankfully for everyone she was his girlfriend and he just loved us. We loved Dave. I had to explain to his girlfriend that Ireland was an actual country outside America and not a university. She laughed at me as if I'd just told her an hilarious one-liner.
We all talked for hours and Serge came and joined us. I didn’t tell him I had kicked him up the hole. Bolesy held court as he amazed the band about our own crazy adventures. I nodded approvingly at his rapturous monologue. Everyone loved Bolesy. I couldn’t blame them, he’s a lovely cunt. DAve and Serge joked about the reviews of their latest album and told us that one of my heroes Bruce Springsteen came and played on their latest album “Float away with the Friday Night Gods” which was produced by the famous Oasis producer Owen Morris. I came in my pants again. Dave and Serge were good mates with Bruce and he would often come to their gigs for guitar duels (pictured above: Dave duelling at one of Bruce's gigs). I remember walking around Belfast on cold winter days with Marah singing in my ears on my CD walkman and now I was in a bar chatting casually with their singer about how he came to write my favourite album. It was a marvellous moment.
It was a magical evening because me and bolesy then decided to fuck off and go disco dancing in the club across the road. Serge and Dave applauded our belligerence. They gave us their number to meet up again for funtime megaparty and we said our goodbyes. Marah would never forget the night they first met Bolesy and Mojo. We had many more adventures with Marah and they have kept making albums despite limited success. They are true musicians and artists. I will love them forever.
Needless to say it was the start of an incredible night. I felt like Dany Brillant (pictured above) and Bolesy felt like Tim Burgess at a creative dance class. We collided with some lovely Muscovites and danced to the dawn. The city of brotherly love embraced us and we opened our arms. The world was different after that point. It was no longer just shit. It was still a bit shit but now, it was beautiful.
MOJO
P.s. The new Dany Brillant album is quite exquisite.
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