Since we were playing only two songs in front of about 300 people, we brought some teeny amps to the hotel. While people outside pounded on the door to get in, the guy who ran the public-address system in the room was busily running around, a little flustered. If I was a man, he's be kissing my ass right now. I thought to myself, Boy, is she wrong. He's a microphone guy.
Microphone guys are always uptight.
They have expensive equipment. After the Breeders played our two songs, I found out who this woman was. She was hosting a conference at the seminar, called Sexism and Racism in Radio. The Breeders were touring Holland, and backstage after a show some guests were hanging out in our dressing room, like Frankie somebody or other, a European football star. Over and over again.