1977, maybe? During a semester break, a gang of us, mostly Edison classmates, met at a small club in a strip mall in east Tulsa. Word had gotten around town that hometown hero Dwight Twilley would be playing an unannounced show.

But Twilley would play after the regularly scheduled out-of-town act, The Autumn People. I think it was a power trio: Spinal Tap minus the talent. All I remember was leather fringe and hair and loud music. And a very bored, impatient audience.

At the end of their set, it was dead. Silent. Then after about five seconds, Walt Kleinecke stood up, clapped three times and gave the Autumn People a very derisive cheer: “Rock and roll!! Woo!!

It was the only noise in the place except pinball machines and clinking beer glasses.

Autumn People: “Alriiiiight, Tulsa! You want more?!

Not no, but hell no.

We got the obligatory rock encore anyway.

At the end, in the Big Finale, the Autumn People unleashed some kind of pyrotechnics. Imagine setting off fireworks in a small, low-ceiling strip mall. It’s a miracle the acoustic ceiling tiles didn’t catch fire, but the tiny venue filled with that acrid stage-smoke that makes your lungs burn.

No contest. The Autumn People. The absolute worst.

Sorry I don’t remember who else was there, but Walt’s solo standing-O was unforgettable.

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