My four years in pro wrestling took a big toll on the body, but the damage done as the vocalist of the Hated Uncles, prior to wrestling, cannot be underestimated! “My Head Is My Only Home” Post # 002: September 3, 2021.
Injury #1: Grapes ‘n Things (1986-1987)
A long, narrow bar, a few tables at the back, most people stand behind tall wooden partitions facing the small stage. The first (and not the last) show I partook of “friendlies” before playing. I don’t think I smoked enough to penetrate the 6-8 beers I had before we went on stage – where I continued to drink…but, maybe I was affected?
The show is going well – but, what do I know? I’m drunk, possibly high…I’m into it, dropping to my knees, rolling around – the usual ritual. Near the end of the show, I’m on the small dance floor (by myself), twirling and spinning, a whirling dervish losing control of the body as it speeds up, nearing the ground, tilting sideways, feet leaving the ground as head approaches…
* thunk! *
…the wooden partition. The brain dancing like Jell-O after ingesting Bill Cosby drugs.
A firm grip on the microphone as I wait for the brain to return and start functioning and hopefully remember why I’m lying on the ground. Music seeps into my inner being, I pull myself to my feet, shake my head and act as if it’s all part of the show…just a part of the show.
Injury #2: Chuggies (Corktown) (1989)
This injury occurred during the duo phase of JK and yours truly. These shows were drunk…very drunk. This particular show was not our drunkest – that would be a show in Toronto on a Monday night involving free beer, with neither of us remembering any songs…drunken-garde improvisation.
I’m not sure what part of the set the injury occurred, but I recall having one foot on the top of one chair and the other foot on a different chair and losing balance…failing this improvisatory sobriety test, I found myself laying on a concrete dance floor with someone on stage asking: “are you OK, Harv?” A moment later I recalled where I was, and the show staggered on with the fog in my brain remaining for a few days.
There’s a vague, distorted memory of being at a house party that night (Dik Van Dykes? Sinister Dude Ranch?) & watching a video of that night’s show. Beyond that, it’s all a distant fog…
Injury #3: Zak’s (correct name?) (Main & Hess S.) (1991)
There were many mornings after Hated Uncles shows where my knees would be bruised up and sore. The worst case being a record release party for the still-unreleased “Kill Morrissey” record.
A decent-sized crowd showed up (by our standards). The bar was nice, the sound good, everyone in an upbeat mood & I’m not too drunk. The band had a funk break during the set, where I shouted “James Brown” (the title of the song), “take me to the bridge!” & other clichés. During this song (& many others), I would drop to my knees with varying degrees of recklessness. This time, adrenalin running rampant, I jumped as high as I could, adding more velocity to the landing. The pain shot through my entire body. There was no fucking give! This stage wasn’t made of wood – it was solid concrete with a thin covering as decoration. In my prayerful pose, I am immobile, unable to stand up. The knees are fucked. I shout another line through clenched teeth & slowly make my way to an upright position. The bruises on both knees were quite impressive the next day!
Bonus Injury: PRM @ Wentworth House (1985-1986)
The first injury at a Hated Uncles show was to someone in the crowd. PRM (our painter), made the mistake of sitting in the front row when we played at Wentworth House. I’m not sure of all the details except it involved me somersaulting on top of him. I’m not sure of the extent of his injuries. His night wasn’t over, as I almost took his head off with a beautiful skull I made out with during the “Name on a Gravestone” finale. Ironically, PRM is the one who made the skull.
It was safer for him to be on stage with us painting! Sorry PRM!
The Hated Uncles got back together from 1995-1999 and I continued
dropping down / rolling on the ground
communing with the sound,
but after 4 years in pro wrestling, I had learned how to control my recklessness…sort of.