Timony winces. "How am I supposed to eat this?" she says. Devlin, something of a real Hungry Man - during off time from the band, he toils long days as a carpenter - grabs his chicken with his fingers and tears off a bolt of meat with Viking severity. At 41, more than 10 years senior to his bandmates, Devlin is a study. After dinner, he complains that our portion of bleachers, dubbed at Red And White, wasn't given the miniature pennants the kids in the Blue section have: "Hey, those guys have flags! Where's our flags?" When he leaves briefly for the rest room and returns, he tugs my arm. He asks, quite earnestly, "hey, who won the joust?" To invoke Freud (perhaps unfairly), I suddenly realize something: Here we are, two men concerned bout other men who gallop about heaving their long pointy things at one another in savage battle. Around us in the stands, hundreds of pubescent suburban grisl watch with glee - but they don't get to participate. The spectacle provides an eerie metaphor for the gender debris Timony has always kicked around with the steel-toed boot of Helium. Both through her were presence as a female rock songwritter who truly loves guitar and plays it both seriously and well - something even in the 1990s "girls aren't supposed to do," she says - and through her lyrics, Timony relentlessly satirizes stereotyped gender roles. Pirate Prude's video for the scathing "XXX" (as in "kiss, kiss, kiss") had Timony dressed up in a pink negligee and a platforms on the floor. "And it's not only the way they look, but their music has to be sexy. Their persona has to be sexy. That's what really pisses me off. I think that's probably why I've gotten away from the whole prostitute-image thing. Ironically, it is Enya, a working-class woman from New Jersey impersonating a 14th-century peasant "wench" (a word that derives from "strumpet", i.e., prostitute) who abruptly interrupts Timony. It's as if one of Timony's characters has popped off a lyrics sheet and taken material form. Enya has returned to present Helium with three photos, each band member beside the pretty, silk-faced countess encountered earlier in the evening. The souvenir photos are $10 a pop. As we pass them around, laughing, Devlin gapes at the countess in a wonder. "It's the same fucking face in every one!" Indeed, as Timony has suggested, the photos, as instant tokens, seem a marketing marvel outdone only by the mass-produced "alterna-chick" singer of the 90s, where the countess is Every Woman. Put that way, Helium's medievalism is spooky social commentary. It is when the battle of men ends that something just as spooky takes place. Quietly, to the left of us, Devlin has begun to weep. A girl named "Lady Lauren" in the audience, probably 11 or 12 years old - the same age Timony began taking classical-guitar lessons - is being led down an aside by the Blue Knight. Timony watches with sympathy as Lady Lauren is shown off the roaring crowd. Evidently, the Blue Knight "killed" all the others, and his reward is "the lady of his choice". It's a genius stroke of pop theatre from those wily Medieval Times folks, and kids, parents at least one rock drummer eat it up. Devlin wipes his eye. "Hey, that's really nice," he says. Timony glances at him, then looks away. As she walks down a set of stairs for the door, she turns around and remarks, "You kow, if you think about it, this is all really kind of violent." Exactly. original scans credits |
