In the last month, I saw a photo of my old pal “Mary” on someone else’s Facebook page. Mary and I were casual friends, and we were going to see Eddy Grant performing at the University at Albany. I went to her house, and she and/or others were going to drive to the campus.
I came right from work, if I’m remembering correctly, and I was really hungry, and I ate a brownie she had out, and took another to go. We get to the locale, which didn’t have chairs, but had an open space for dancing. I ate the second brownie.
I’m grooving on the music, when suddenly, I’m in need of leaning against a wall. I am feeling unwell, maybe. Then even standing became too difficult, and my back slid down the wall, and I sat in a corner, I think, I don’t know.
And I really don’t remember much else, such as how I got home.
Sometime that week, I called Mary. She was SURE she had told me there was hashish in those brownies. Maybe there was a general announcement, but I never heard it.
Every time I hear that intro, I have, if not a flashback, an odd physical recollection. Electric Avenue got to #2 in both the UK and US, for five weeks in the States. It appears on the Killer on the Rampage album, and I heard that track on the radio. I have Electric Avenue on a reggae compilation album with Living on the Frontline.