Weekly Protein
By Beef


April 9, 2003

A week or two ago, I came home to find my boyfriend surfing the 'net. He excitedly tells me that I must come see this one site he's found. You see, he's in a band and is very interested in other local bands, regularly checking out local band sites and listening to the local bands' uploaded music clips. He'd found one in particular that he'd liked and followed the links to their site, listening to the songs they had there.

Well, apparently, I just HAD to see them, he thought. Being the supportive girlfriend that I am, I, with interest, went to see what he had to show. I had no idea what was about to happen, that I was going to be transported to a time over 15 years ago.

Lynyrd's Innards? LYNYRD'S INNARDS???

When I was a teenager and in love for the first time in my life with the glass-eyed, monkey-faced drummer of a band two high school chums played in, I'd gone to a show at a Boy Scout lodge in Portage, Indiana, featuring my friends' band, the B.S. Bowlers, and another called Lynyrd's Innards. I'd always remembered them because, well, besides the fact that they were pretty damned good, they just had one of the greatest names I'd ever heard. Surely these couldn't be the same band.

I shoved the boyfriend out of the way. I had to find out more. They couldn't be, could they?

I could find nothing about their "lifespan" or their roots in the site's bandbio. All I could find there was that they were located in Chicago, which, while maybe an hour's drive from the Portage area, is far enough away to not be the Portage area. I kept digging. Upon looking at their discography, clicking on the earliest album to see its details, I noticed a name: Joel Justin. I recognized that name. I knew that name.

In a frenzy, I dug through my milk crate of old tapes. It had to be there. I had to find it. Reaching my hand in near the bottom, I triumphantly pulled out a tape with the recognizable-as-my-own-hand (since it was drawn by my own hand) black and white cover - The B.S. Bowlers! I fumbled open the case and scanned the credits. There it was! Joel Justin! It had to be. It simply had to be. I squealed with delight. My boyfriend was intrigued by the coincidence, though not nearly as much as I was.

I emailed them. I had to share the story with them, and tell them that I remembered them fondly from so long ago. They were thrilled to hear from someone that knew them in their early days. He said "In a day and age where it's not uncommon for kids at our shows to be no older than our band [who just celebrated their 15th year together], it's always great to hear from people who were around back when we started doing this."

Thanks, Lynyrd's Innards, for making my day.

- Your Proteinacious One

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