He wasn't impatient, but he also wasn't one to put up with the usual glad-handing that goes on in music stores. He just wanted to get back to his beloved drums. Eventually (and I mean eventually...knowing Guitar Center), the transaction was complete, now he could relax a bit - perhaps spend a moment or two in the store. He walked casually through the drum shop. It was just the usual stuff, drum heads, cymbals, percussion, nothing that couldn't wait. As he made his way back to his car in the cold-patched, pothole-ridden parking lot, he paused at the cork board - something had caught his eye.

There was a poster, but it was a different kind of poster. Most posters in music stores said what kind of band they were. This one said what kind of band they weren't. "Hmmm...they're not country, or heavy metal...that's cool. Not a wedding band, even better." His eyes sauntered down to the list of influences - Stones, Beatles, Kinks. "Not bad," he thought. These influences were in tandem with his. But there was one influence that really caught his eye - The Who. Ah yes, the 'orrible 'oo. Keith Moon happened to be his favorite drummer. Maybe he smirked, perhaps even smiled - he can't remember - but there was definitely something intriguing about this poster, intriguing enough to tear down. As he stuffed the lovingly-jagged, handwritten poster into his back pocket and strolled out to his car, he didn't realize the implications that this simple gesture would have. There, in the entrance way, was a lone, naked push-pin, with a tiny scrap of paper not much bigger than a match head, trapped between the pin and the cork board. No one else would see that poster. No one else would call.

BACK IN THE DAYS WHEN THERE WAS ONE AREA CODE

Al, Dag & I had spent the winter of '82/spring of '83 doing three things - playing hockey in Al's backyard, working at SportsVision, and rehearsing in Al's basement. Rehearsing for what, God only knows. Our song list was pretty tame. We would crowd around an imaginary microphone and croon away. 

One day, post-hockey, pre-rehearsal, Dag told us of a phone call he received from a drummer named Mike. Actually, Mike didn't call but his girlfriend at the time did. She told Dag of this 17 year-old wunderkid from Rogers Park who wanted to be in a band. He was a great drummer, and he's a big Who fan.

"Ummm...cool. Let me talk to Gregg and Al, and I'll call Mike back." As the three of us stood around a spinet piano in Al's family room tuning our guitars , Dag mentioned to us a phone call he had gotten. A decision was made. We were gonna jam with a drummer. Hell, it was gonna be an audition.

We were serious. Dag had his orders (studio slug that he was), call this guy Mike back.

Dag picked-up the telephone and dialed the unfamiliar prefix. Dag spoke with Mike. Contact. Directions were passed along. Mike would have to meet us in Park Ridge. A date was set: Sunday, March 6th, 1983 A.D. 2:00 pm. A young Mike Halston queried "How will I know which house it is?" To wit, Dag replied "Just look for my brothers car." "Ummm...Dag...who's your brother, and what's his car?" 

Arrangements were made. The plans were etched in stone. For the first time, Gregg, Dag, Mike & Al would be in the same room. All parties were nervous. Mike finally found my car. Mike brought an entourage. It was a mess. It was a blind date. But would the relationship last?

We noodled around in Al's basement for a bit. We kind of went through the motions of trying to find some sort musical common ground. Nothing was really happening. During this period of our musical career, I would occasionally take off the bass guitar and strap on the rhythm guitar. It was during one of these moments I happened to play the intro of the Who's' "A Quick One While He's Away". Mike enthusiastically said "I know that song." A fire had been lit. We were off and running. I quickly strapped my bass back on. We blew through as much of the Who catalog as we knew. We must have played fragments of thirty different songs. "Can't Explain", "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere", "I Can See for Miles", anything we could remember. We had been rehearsing a tinny little version of "Summertime Blues", Mike said to 'Live-at-Leeds' it. So we did. It was great. But the true moment came when Al strummed those wonderful intro chords of "Substitute". We launched into a bombastic, ballsy, insanely loud version of the pop classic. In those few moments, things for the first time really jelled. Dag sang the dirty British lyrics ('I look all white, but my dad was black'), Mike and I clicked on the starts, stops, and bass solo, and Al played his strong, confident rhythm guitar. Once the onslaught had ended, there was a pause as the four of us took it all in. This was pretty cool. The song would later become a Slug staple for years, and we would subsequently learn to play it much better. But for sheer exhilaration, it's hard to top that first time through. We played for about another hour, either trying to learn new songs, or going back to earlier songs and rearranging them. There was definitely chemistry. Were we the Slugs?

It was getting late and Mike had to find his way back into the city. We helped him load his Nova with his trap cases. I joked with Mike that the Who never asked Keith Moon to join the band, so we weren't going to ask Mike to join the Slugs. To this day he's never been asked to join. But we knew, we all knew. As Mike was getting ready get into his car, Dag said to us all, "Hey, we're the Slugs".