Nurse the Hate: The Evan Johns Story

This morning while driving, my iPod shuffled onto Evan Johns and the H-Bombs “Vacationtime” from the "Rolling Through The Night" record. This is a killer record I will always associate with a particular time and place. I spent the summer of 1987 living in the attic of a ramshackle rental house in Kent OH. I was subleasing my room from four guys that I can barely remember. I called one guy The Big Kahuna, and one guy was a really fucking hairy Greek guy ironically named “Harry”. We didn’t really talk to each other much, but we were cordial enough I suppose.

That summer was insanely hot, and living in the attic was not exactly the most desirable location. It was literally like a sauna up there. I had two fans attempting to move the air around, but nothing really cooled it off. When folks reference the air being so thick you can cut it, they must have been in that attic on a day in July. The house did have the benefit of being located within walking distance to all of our regular bars, and with that all of my deadbeat buddies that were spending their summer at their cushy family homes would come down on weekends.

The usual routine would be that these guys would start to filter into Kent around 7pm or so on Friday. We would hang out and “pregame” at our house, and get into various misadventures in the dingy campus bars in and around Kent afterwards. One of my friends liked to come down a little early so he could visit my neighbor. We’ll call her “Sue”. Now, when I say “visit” I mean have brisk sexual intercourse with Sue prior to knocking back 500 beers with his friends. Sue was a nice enough gal with shall we say “liberated” views on sexual congress. With the exception of myself, I believe every single person in my social orbit had engaged in some sort of depraved act with her in the previous 12 months. Some would call her a Bad Girl. My friends called her a Fun Girl.

One particular Friday my buddy came down around an hour earlier than everyone else. He slunk off to the neighbor’s house for his Friday business, but discovered Sue’s roommate home and not going anywhere. He was effectively jammed up. When faced with adversity, this guy did what he needed to though. He convinced Sue to come over to my place, where he figured he could find an area private enough to get to work. Now I have no idea any of this is going on when I emerge from the shower, and walk into my room with a towel wrapped around my waist. I was a little surprised to see my friend and Sue in my bed under the sheets rolling around, but no big deal, I’d get all gussied up for my night out around them. My buddy wanted me to split for awhile, but I maintained a position that if he could just wait for about 10 minutes, I would be out of there and he could soil my bed. (I’m a pretty good dude to live with.) I put Evan Johns on the turntable, and started my routine.

I attempted to dry my hair, and the action on the bed started to escalate. Sue started to moan as my buddy was fingering her under the sheet, her enormous breast exposed. “Hey man, I’m not leaving until I’m done.” His response was quick. “Well, I’m not stopping either.” Fine. I’ll play this little game of chicken. I looked around for my cleanest dirty shirt. There was more thrashing around on the bed. My friend mounted Sue from behind and started pounding her. Sue’s eyes were closed, and mouth open in a low moan as her enormous breasts swung back and forth. My buddy was now staring down at her as the slap slap slap of their skin tried to drown out an extremely badass Evan John guitar solo.

“Hey! You up there?” From the bottom of the staircase came the voice of the little brother of one of my other roommates. He was about 18, and started coming down to Kent without his older brother once he got a taste of what was going on at our shitty little house. He was a nice kid that was quiet and wasn’t much trouble. He hadn’t been around too much, but he was a quick study. We didn’t mind him hanging around, so he became a regular fixture that summer. “You up there?” I looked at the scene around me. It was literally a live sex show. OK. You want to fuck Sue right now? You think you are winning? Fine. Let's up the ante. I yelled down to Tim. “Yeah Tim. C’mon up.”

When Tim walked into the room, it took a second for his brain to process what was going on. I was standing in front of a mirror without a shirt. Meanwhile my other buddy was fucking Sue doggy style with great enthusiasm. Sue was clenching her eyes closed and breathing in fast little gasps, not noticing or caring Tim had walked in. “Hey Tim. What’s up?” My buddy lifted his head up, noticed Tim and said, “Hey man! What’s up?” Tim stood there for a moment, turned around without a word, and walked back down the stairs. It was more than his young head could process. Evan Johns blasted out of the speakers.

I played a show with Evan Johns in Austin Texas years later as a member of The Cowslingers. I told him the story, and how I always thought about it when I heard that “Rolling Through The Night” record. He threw his head back with a throaty laugh and said, “Har Har Har! That’s what vacationtime is all about!”.

Damn, that’s a good record.