Steve Olson

music

text by PAUL OPPERMAN
portrait by ANNABEL MEHRAN

 

ANECDOTE #1

It’s the early-’90s. I’m walking out of an East Village rock club called Brownies with Steve Olson. Someone swings a skateboard directly at my skull, with savage intent. I duck and fall back against the wall. In the same instant my assailant notices Olson, drops the skateboard, and with glee and warmth yells out, “Olson! Old School!” Olson quickly explains to this mad-with-intent-to-maim guy (a former associate of his, it turns out) that because of my connection to him — Olson — I also can be considered Old School, and, as such, he — the skateboard swinger — shouldn’t hold me responsible for invading his old haunting grounds. For a number of months previous to this incident my assailant had been absent from the scene, resting in a federally sponsored hotel: “39 in Soledad. I don’t need no…