DAHL PARTS

Well, it's Friday night and I just got paid
It's been ten years since I got laid
A couple friends told me a place where I
could go
They've got blow-up dolls and Acu-jacks
They've got nasty movies in the back
And the girls behind the glass all know my
name

But as much as Jeff craved the attention of scantily clad women, he craved performing more. He frequented open-stage nights at various Denver clubs (particularly Cricket on the Hill, where sets were overseen by either local scenester Dave Delacroix or singer-songwriter Baggs Patrick) and took great delight in throwing everyone present for a loop. He'd perform his most grotesque songs--like "Fetus for Sale," in which a preserved human embryo is on the block at a garage sale, and "Don't Feed the Homos," a straight-faced satire many found ultra-offensive--in the most emphatic manner possible. A bulky figure (he was trim as a boy, but by his thirties he'd ballooned to over 200 pounds), Jeff had a gruff, booming voice and an acoustic-guitar style that generally favored big gestures and power chords over subtlety. He'd stomp around the stage, challenging his listeners--poking them, prodding them, seeing how much they could take. At the conclusion of his sets, he'd often be on the floor--either on his back, his legs kicking wildly into the air, or on top of his guitar, his hips thrusting into the shapely instrument's midsection.

Not everyone who saw these displays was captivated by them, and that was fine by Jeff. In fact, Gary's role at these gigs was to heckle; he'd rank on Jeff for his singing, his songs, even his choice of shirts. If these efforts riled the crowd, Jeff would be pleased. If not, he would sometimes verbally abuse customers until they reacted. His behavior angered numerous Cricket on the Hill bouncers and bartenders over the years. More than once, Jeff was banned from the club for life--something of an accomplishment, since the Cricket's clientele can be among the roughest in Denver.

Jeff's response to the first of these expulsions set the pattern for those that followed. On that occasion, he donned an overcoat, a wig and a false beard, then signed up under a phony name for a slot on another open-stage evening. When his turn came, he stepped up to the microphone, tore off his camouflage and shouted, "I'm Jeff Dahl, and nobody's kicking me off this stage!"

And no one did. Gary says, "Eric Clapton could have walked in there that night and people would have gone home talking about Jeff."

end of part 1