[Editor’s note: Liner Notes chronicles how Chelsea Schlievert Yates discovered music through the ’80s and ’90s while growing up in Norfolk, Neb. We hope to post a new installment every other week. Read more here.]
by Chelsea Schlievert Yates
Jed was a friend I met in 1994. He lived in what was perhaps the best basement in all of Norfolk. It was also perhaps the messiest.
On one side there was a pinball machine, a stereo, a TV, couches and video games. On the other side, racks and racks of old clothes that looked like they should either be wheeled out to the driveway for a garage sale or transported to the costume shop of the local community theater. Old posters of Styx, Wham and 1970s icons John Travolta and Eric Estrada adorned the unfinished walls, taped or stapled right on the fiberglass insulation.
There was a door that opened to the backyard, which bordered a golf course. It would have been perfect for sneaking in and out, if that was something one needed to do (Jed’s parents Mr. and Mrs. J. rarely cared who came and went, so sneaking was never really necessary). Somewhere in there, I suppose, there was a bed, as the basement was technically Jed’s room, but I don’t think I ever saw it.
To walk through Jed’s basement, one would have to step on strewn-about clothes, such as baby blue three-piece tuxedo with ruffled shirt or a wide-lapelled jacket à la Superfly that someone found on one of the clothing racks, tried on, laughed about and discarded on the floor; over piles of odd assortments of books and magazines (anything from the official Nickelodeon Fifteen fan album to The Anarchist’s Cookbook to a copy of the children’s book Everyone Poops); and around CD jewel cases that housed discs by James, the Sex Pistols and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin.
About once a year, Jed’s mom would make him clean the basement; this usually became a weekend event involving friends and would result in a clean and tidy space that — once approved by Mrs. J. — would be immediately turned into the biggest couch cushion fortress anyone had ever witnessed. It even had a TV room.
Most everyone who spent time at Jed’s seemed to share a common love for the Beastie Boys, and because of that, I will forever associate them with his basement. They pretty much provided the soundtrack to any and all activity that took place there. I met Jed not long after the music video for “Sabotage” came out; I remember going over to his house — through the garage and down the stairs to the basement — to work up a plan for remaking the video. Jed wanted to do a Norfolk version of “Sabotage” named “Brooklyn Undercover.”
The revised script called for a female character, and one of the guys who had agreed to perform in drag had already been cast for it. But I expressed interest in being a part of the filming, and a second female role was quickly added. (Many years later I learned that my last-minute addition was the result of me being a) a girl and b) a willing participant. Jed and the guys produced quite a few video shorts in high school and shared them via the local cable access channel under the name “7-Central.” Every once in a while girls would appear in the sketches, but they were rare, and so mostly all of the parts in the “7-Central” skits — regardless of gender — were played by guys.)
It didn’t occur to me at the time how irrelevant my character actually was to the story line; I was too excited for our cinematic adventure to begin. Some of the guys dressed in clothes found on the clothing racks (conveniently, they contained a lot of items from the 1970s), and they donned cop sunglasses and fake mustaches. Once dressed, we grabbed the video camera. Then we headed out to shoot. We started at a local park and then, upon realizing we needed a grittier, more city-like environment, we relocated to downtown. Norfolk only had one alley that came close to resembling anything “urban” (primarily because of the dumpsters, telephone poles, and a teeny bit of graffiti), so that’s where we did a bulk of the filming.
courtesy photos of “Brooklyn Undercover”
I don’t remember what the end product looked like, or if we ever finished it, but I will never forget that day; I had made some new, ridiculously awesome friends, and I had fallen in love with the Beastie Boys. I never met Ad-Rock, Mike D or MCA (may he rest in peace), but I always felt like they would have appreciated Jed’s basement and the fantastic creativity it spawned. I remember Jed once writing a letter inviting them — if they ever found themselves in Nebraska — to come and hang out. I think they would have fit in well.
Chelsea Schlievert Yates is a Hear Nebraska contributor. She grew up in northeast Nebraska and now lives in Seattle, Washington. Reach her at cdschlievert@gmail.com.