I Was There the Night Jeff Tweedy Punched a Guy in Missouri

Photo by Amber Roussel

I’ve seen my share of beer-heaving, mosh pit-circling shows; I used to watch my brother who was a drummer in a heavy-metal band. But nothing will compare to the wildest concert I’ve ever attended. The night Wilco played at the Shrine Mosque in Springfield, Mo. will forever be etched in my mind with images of Fez hats and Jeff Tweedy punching a boisterous stage crasher.

It was Monday and I cut class to drive to the show. Walking into the Abou Ben Adhem Shrine Center, I was expecting a mellow atmosphere. Honestly, how rowdy could a group of Wilco fans from mid-Missouri be?

But something just seemed odd about walking under the red canopy into the venue and being greeted by a picture shrine (quite literally) of old men, eerily grinning with red-pillbox hats on their heads.

The merchandise table was set up next to an aged popcorn turner and the concert hall was reminiscent of a dimly lit high school gymnasium. It felt like a scene from an old-school horror film involving a flapper dance. “By far the creepiest place I’ve ever seen a concert,” my friend later declared. The crowd was ricocheting the entire night, prompting me to take refuge in the stands.

“All night long, it was like at a Shriners mosque thing and basically the Shriners volunteered to police the place. Bad idea,” recalls Jeff Tweedy. “So during the show, lots of different things were happening, there were people getting pushed around in the front, some girl came up onstage sat down and started playing piano.” But the already bizarre night would get even stranger.

During the first encore, as Wilco launched into “Airline To Heaven,” a college-aged Devendra Banhart look-alike jetted on-stage and attempted to plant a big wet one on the head of Jeff Tweedy.

We’ve all experienced the obnoxious fan with one too many beers under his belt, who’s intent on becoming part of the show. From jerks incessantly talking during songs, to the couple sucking face in front you, concerts sometimes bring out less-than-savory tendencies in certain people.

Tweedy has to be one of the funniest musicians on stage. His dry on-stage banter (turning down marriage proposals, recollecting bad interviews and his run-in with former band members) has grown quite endearing and is almost worth the price of admission.

But, I had also heard rumors, fueled by line-up changes and public spats with former bandmates, that Tweedy was hard to get along with.

So when he whipped his guitar around to shove the Banhart clone offstage, the once antsy audience froze in anticipation for the alleged Temper of Tweedy to burst. It was an uncomfortable minute, akin to having company over while your parents were arguing in the next room.

But a tantrum never came. Actually, quite the opposite.

“It’s scary when people come up when you’re trying to sing your heart out,” a visibally shaken Tweedy told the crowd. After a night full of disturbances, it would’ve been more than justified if the group packed it up and walked off stage. But the band marched on.

“Now where was I,” replied Tweedy as the band picked up where they left off (even coming out for a second encore).

Tweedy recounted the night at a following show at the University of Illinois: “Any other night I would have said, ‘He could probably have fondled me or something,’ because I would’ve known in five or six seconds tops a couple of guys in big yellow shirts would’ve been like pummeling him. Not that he needed to have that happen.”

After the show, as I walked out of the show back to my friend’s car, we found the show-stopper parked next to us, milling around, chatting with fans, really living up his 15 minutes.

“I just wanted to give him a kiss,” he told me and my friend. In our short conversation, he surprisingly didn’t seem that intoxicated; a shot to the face from a musician you admire would have a sobering effect, I assume.

He offered to take a picture with us, which I thought was kind of deserving of another punch. We declined and I rode in the passenger side back home with memories of funny hats and a memorable Missouri night.