Life's A Cabaret

Faun Fables/Devotchka/The Dresden Dolls//Webster Hall//10/28/05

Yeah, the ticket was $20 and yeah the show was at Webster Hell, but The Dresden Dolls' Brechtian punk cabaret is perfect for kicking off Holloweekend. Thankfully the weather wasn't that bad so it wasn't treacherous to stand outside the venue from work until doors, just boring. I picked up an extra copy of the Voice's 50th anniversary issue with the intent of actually reading it, not just adding it to the stack of Voices with interesting articles to read when I have time but I don't so I just chuck 'em. Halloween Adventure across the street had a bigger line than Webster Hall. Seriously, though. Who buys their costume 3 days before Halloween? Maybe they just enjoy waiting on lines for things, hoping the evening news would stop by to do a little segment on all the last-minute shoppers--except they usually do that on the 30th. On my way down 11th Xris rides by on his way to Critical Mass. He stops to show me his costume. Spider Man. "Team Spider-man! So if you see me in handcuffs on the evening news, you'll know who it is!" "Unless you need bail money, in which case I've never seen you before." Only because I have no money myself. If I had any, it would be a different story.

There are already 7 people on line; a group who've been there since 2, a blue-haired indie rock guy, and a guy decked out in vintage gear complete with aviator sunglasses and spats, one guy in suspenders and a bowler hat. Behind me is some guy who knows people invovled in the show--a guy with dreadlocks and an accordian case stops to talk to him; the guy on line is on his cell all night, having important-sounding conversations and receiving hugs from people in costumes walking past. "I've gotta go, I'm getting bombarded here." I should get a cellphone so I could stand on line having bogus yet juicy conversations: You gave who a blowjob backstage last nite? Guess who I did last week. Hey, I still have that schmo's cell phone lying around. I should try this. A girl dressed in white and painted white perches on a chair and poses, in between blowing handfuls of baby powder. Another passes out lollipops to the gathering crowd. A woman dressed in a cigarrette girl costume comes out to work the line: How's everybody doing? Who are we here to see? Tepid responses and a few half-hearted "Dresden Dolls" and one "Devotchka." "One more time!" the woman prompts. "You're all wonderful! It's Friday and it's not too cold! You're here to see the Dolls!" C'mon, these are the people who've been standing here all afternoon. The woman announces that she's selling CDs, pins, and stickers. Brill. Every band should sell merch outside the venue to save time and I buy a sticker because she didn't have any pins on her. After she works the line, getting enthusiastic "Woooo!s" further down, she heads back inside and I call after her to bring out pins. At 6:45 they start IDing the line and I toss the Voice (Christgau's punk report from 1978 said that of the 20 bands he saw over 9 days in England, 10 played genuine punk and of those 10, only 4 put on hotter shows than anyone he saw at CBGB, namely the Clash and X-ray Spex) but there's still a good half hour to go. I'm antsy and have to pee. After the barricades are set up, one of the guards tells us to form 2 lines. We sort of form a huddle and I cut the blue-haired boy. I guess I just wanted it more than he did. Once the rope comes down I'm the first one in but I go up the stairs a little slower to be fair to the kids there since 2. Once anchored up front, I can't go off to buy a pin because it's filling up quickly.

A venue like Webster Hall is visually perfect for these bands. There's a balcony and the decor makes it look like an opera theatre, the only thing missing is seating; however, the place is too huge and impersonal. As Faun Fables sets up, the guy with the accordian comes out with a ballerina "from the Bolshoi ballet" in black. He plays a bit and she starts dancing--and her wig falls off and is totally bald. The accordian player tosses her another one and she plops it on quickly. It falls off again, so she starts juggles them and waves them like pompoms for a bit. Renaissance Faire-y Faun Fables strums an acoustic guitar and had yodely songs. She lights a candle and sits down at a table, knocks the candle over, taps beer bottles, and sings along. After her set, comedian Eugene Mirman comes out and does a skit about having a conversation with a telemarketer from a Christian phone company and plays the recorded conversation. Devotchka, (with a backward K, not to be confused with the streetpunk Oi! Toys in Devotchkas) feature a woman on a tuba, the opening of which has Christmas lights circling it. This has gotta be the most bad-ass tuba ever and they play Ukrainian opera pop. (Sorry I'm going fast--it's a busy weekend.)

While they were setting up for Dresden Dolls, the (underage) girls to my left grabbed a beer bottle off the stage and polished it off, then hit on the stagehand flashing ass cleavage. ("Wanna hang out later?" "Sure, see me after the show.") The same half of Modrocket at the Donnas show were again to my right, plotting to get into the VIP section for Nine Inch Nails so they don't get stabbed up front. I don't really know if The Dresden Dolls is punk cabaret, mainly because to me "punk" conjures up a certain sound/look, just like if I were to describe them as Goth makes you think of certain acts who are Goth but not necessarily Gothic. Then again, I'm not quite sure which time period/geographical region the historical Goth refers to, but Boston's The Dresden Dolls mine German cabaret circa the early 1900s. Imagine The White Stripes with a German cabaret sound--only with the woman, Amanda, (in a crushed velvet dress, black and white striped stockings held up w/garters, Mary Janes, and really hairy pits) on a keyboard (Kurzweil is changed to read "Kurt Weill") and guy, Brian, (in a bowler hat and lace stockings) on drums and occasionally an acoustic guitar. Their faces are painted white with red lips and they sing songs about coin-operated boys and girls who are anachronisms, and cover a cabaret song about a port in Amsterdam, "One Is The Lonliest Number backed by the Ambitious Orchestra in costume (if you're gonna sing about one being the lonliest number, it makes sense to be backed by an orchestra), which is why I said this is perfect for a venue that looks like an opera house. Among the encores were "Science Fiction Double Feature" and "Let The Sun Shine In," making for one of the most unique shows I've seen in a long while.

The problem with being among the first inside a venue is that it takes you forever to exit. The merch was all the way in the back and a crowd was pretty deep. I'm not too thrilled about buying one pin through a website because I think it's pretty pointless, but luckily their site has several. And soon I will, as well.

(Almost) All Ages Show

Last Call Brawl/Brain Failure/River City Rebels/Street Dogs//Continental//10/26/05

I saw Street Dogs open for Flogging Molly last year and while I didn't love 'em, I didn't hate 'em, either. So when I saw that they were playing Continental I bought a ticket. I figured that if it starts to be a mobscene up front, it didn't matter if I retreat to the middle of the room. Of course, right after that I saw the listing for Soul Asylum @ the Bowery Ballroom the same nite. In a way I'm glad that I didn't end up @ Soul Asylum because I'd end up dredging up all the teenage shit I was going thru when I first started listening to them. And all the reviews seemed to chide them for the reunion. And no matter how wrong it would be for them to reunite since their material after Grave Dancer's Union wasn't all that great and their original bass player passed away in June, I probably would've had a ball and wrote a glowing review and how fortunate I was for the experience.

I think that I'm the only person who can replace a ticket I was using by buying one for a future date before the show. The theory behind buying the ticket for Continental (thru Ticketblaster, no less) is that I'd be let in ahead of all the others paying at the door and showing IDs for stamps for the bar, like how I jumped the line at the Adicts show from all the way around the corner. Instead, this time around I stood around to the left of the ATM for like 45 minutes, peeping in the window. Brain Failure were hanging around outside, eating pizza, and some other girl asked them if they had a guest list and could she be on it. A group of thuggish fratboys gather. Street Dogs have a red T-shirt that copies the Brigade Rosse logo but says Street Dogs instead. Jesus H, man. What's with all these fucking punk bands and their Russkie obsessions? There's nobody up front and I walk right up, unsure of how smart that is.
Last Call Brawl's lead singer is in a shirt with the NYHC logo on the back and their drummer takes off his shirt to reveal their logo (skull and crossbones on a beer mug) and a skull logo (couldn't see if it was the Dropkick Murphys logo or not) on his chest and N Y H C tattooed on his collarbone. He's in khaki shorts and I'm expecting them to sound like fratboy hardcore (FBHC? FBXHC?)--y'know, brutal and punishing music with rapidfire, barking, screaming vocals and the vocalist being an agressive jerk in his early 20s to prove he's punk rock and has a personality. Songs like "My Stomach Hates My Guts" are pitworthy, even though people were hanging back, waiting for someone to start it. I wasn't expecting LCB to be melodic as well as a band you could skateboard to, especially with their NOFX cover and with the singalong "Small Victories" I joined in on the chorus. The singer seemed like a nice guy, like he had an actual personality. I want to pick up a pin but worried about my spot, even though my jacket is in front of the stage. I'm thinking my new policy should be to buy pins ahead of time since they're not expensive and I can always throw them out if the band pisses me off. But then again, if the band pisses me off I don't want to give them any of my support. Sigh. What to do, what to do.
Brain Failure opened for DKM this past March, for one of the nights I didn't go and the Voice gave 'em a mildly negative review, though they landed an Honorable Mention from Papa Xgau and he gave them mildly positive blurb a few months later. Of course the Voice wouldn't get it. I figure they're punk rock like Stackers, right? Not close. Brain Failure are from China--"B-E-I-J-I-N-G!" as their song goes, first of all. I forgot that part from the bad review because I didn't want to listen to it. Brain Failure is closer to The Clash while Stackers are 90s punk, as well as Japanese. Songs have Oi!Oi!Oi! as well as Hey!Hey!Hey! chants and there was a small circle pit. "Coming To The USA" is chorused with "Touring! Touring!" "Secondhand Pogo" is one of their ska numbers--"Everybody dress up like old school yeah!" Amazingly perfect stuff that you'll be singing as soon as you hear it...."Hey! Let me take you all tonight to the punk rock show all my brothers come together!" Again the dilemma, what to do about pins because a small crowd is gathering for River City Rebels and I hope Brain Failure don't pack up early.

I don't know why Vermont's River City Rebels were on the bill--well, they are because they're touring with Street Dogs--because RCR have an entirely different sound/style. RCR have swapped punk rock for glam punk and have a horn section and a bigger band, no less. I've never been that close for RCR before but this time....holy shit. Right up front. How close was I? Close enough to French kiss the trombone slide (poetic for "smacked in the mouth," which thankfully did NOT happen.) In a way, it didn't matter if the CD I got at their rekkid release show didn't play since seeing them live--up close--was like seeing an entirely different band. Oh my God. Seeing them, their energy, was like I've never seen a live show up close before. There's just no way to explain it. The stage pounded, the crowd gathered and crushed, Bopper held the mic over the crowd. I felt like grabbing their ankles and thanking them for letting me be in their space. I was just so blown away. River City Rebels were so ferocious and out of control, killing a kick drum in the process.

Street Dogs' lead singer Mike McColgan used to be the singer for Dropkick Murphys before Al Barr came aboard and there was Murphy representation in the crowd--both Dropkick and Law. (I'm pretty sure their street dog is a Boston terrier but that one's much cuter--not that Boston terriers ain't cute, I meant among the offerings from Smileycentral) RCR's predominately young, female crowd gave way for all the guys. It just became whiteboy central and I stepped aside to give them room. Guys in scally caps, as was McColgan. And he was in a suit as well, like a Flogging Molly reject but they're nothing like FM or DKM. Which is refreshing....except the band really didn't do anything for me. McColgan's favorite pose is the Obligatory Punk Rock Stance (fist in the air), or leaning into the crowd and pointing. Actually, up close I liked 'em less than @ Roseland. It was just....OK, you all got birdie tattoos so I get it--you're punk rock, McColgan's got an Innes (rhymes with Guinness!) belt on and the skateboard brand line's logo is a bird. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. It's like close up I got a better look at how average they are. For their cover song, they offered us a choice, a process they don't usually do at every show. We had 3 choices. The guitar player has a Ramones tattoo, his favorite band, McColgan tells us, and a Ramones cover was one choice. Tepid response, which shocked McColgan considering where we were. Read the plaque on the wall, next to the Iggy Pop poster. Show some respect, Mike scolds. The bass player (in a Motorhead shirt) had a Black Flag tattoo on the back of his neck. Pretty much no response. McColgan chalked it up to being on the East Coast (not to mention the age and type of crowd). McColgan and the drummer's favorite band? The Clash. Place erupts. "Check the Help Wanted section of the newspaper for 'Career Opportunities!'" Grrrr! Place goes crazy, pit breaks out, crowd surfing. I think, Isn't your big cover number supposed to be the one thing that saves your act? The one song you can't fuck up because you didn't write it? Then again, everyone's going crazy and Mike McColgan stage dives and gets carried around--even though Street Dog's version sounds like an empty echo of the original. McColgan ends the set with both fists in the air, inadvertantly showing off the waistband of his Calvin Klein drawers. I head to the middle of the room--it's not packed at all--so I can get a Brain Failure CD and the attendant pins on the way out. To my left is a guy in a DKM sweatshirt and scally cap. Street Dogs come back onstage for their encore to the mandatory chant of Yankees suck! Yankees suck! Yankees suck!

Y'know what? I don't hate Street Dogs. I may dislike a lot of bands but to say you hate a band? That's a pretty heavy word and crappy bands just don't earn that word or the depth of the emotion that hate conjures up. Still, I don't dislike Street Dogs, either, don't think they're crappy. They definately worked and sweated and had their fans going. That's the thing--if I feel that ambivilous about a band, at least put in the extra effort so I could form an opinion one way or another.

Another One Bites The Dust

And another one down, another one down.....

The latest band to break up--sorry, "call it quits...at least for now" or "on a hiatus of undetermined length"--before I even get the pix developed is The Repercussions, due to their guitarist and bassist jumping ship. This sucks, because I really like them.

They announced their final 3 dates, one in NYC tomorrow and 2 on Lawn Guyland--one with another band playing their last gig and who were also on the 1st Repercussions bill. I feel terrible; I have a show tomorrow. There were a few other times I saw them listed around but I was busy. So I get Roger's theory that maybe The Spunk Lads could've had a chance if they were in another city other than NYC.

I first saw The Repercussions at the end of July on a Coverless Continental Crapshoot. Hollow Sidewalks was in its early stages and I wasn't sure if I was going to go ahead with it. I was thinking about sending them a link to my site but felt why bother if the site wasn't ready for viewers and I was still trying to build up the courage to let it be seen by others. Maybe their breakup is all my fault. I can't remember which band I said at the door, but I hope the CD and pins that I bought helped somewhat.

The Repercussions, February 2003-October 2005

Hollow Sidewalks, Supermodel

"You're not afraid of the camera, are you?" I was asked yesterday morning. I said no while thinking: I've got bags under my eyes. My latest modeling job? Wearing a Slipknot mask for the ad for the "Win The Masks Off Our Faces" contest. I asked when they're going to take the picture so I can "coincidentally" wear a band T-shirt that day. The picure is going to be shot in a few minutes. But I have bags under my eyes. I need to pick up concealor. I don't know why that thought even crossed my mind.

My first "modeling job" (just sounds good to write) was appearing in a house ad for our Metal Edge T-shirts last year. I was all rocker chick-ed out and we did some pix at a guitar store on 30th St. Yes, they let me inside a guitar store. Before that, I'd never been in a guitar store. Ever. Don't worry, I didn't touch anything. Due to never-ending red-eye, they went with the one where I'm lounging on the steps of the post office across from Penn Station. It was great because I was laying across a few steps so I still looked curvaceous, not fat. The end of my 20s, terrible posture, big scar on my shoulder, totally out of shape, and I'm a model! I got $50. I would've done it for free, but now I can say that I've made more money from modeling than I have through my writing.

The smaller Slipknot masks had weird eye openings and the material curved in, straining your eyes. So I didn't want that. I ended up with #5--the rubber hood, full-head mask with a zipper mouth and nails coming out of it. I love those guys--in theory, I mean. I wonder, rhetorically, which came first--crazy fans listening to their music or does the music make them crazy? There was a series of pinups featuring those guys in their costumes. Sex-ee! Who wouldn't hang those on their wall? Seriously, though, you have to give the band credit for performing in those getups because they must get hot and smelly after a while. I'm sure theirs are specially made/designed for the band and are breatheable. The ones that are sold in the stores are latex.

The mask for #5 came with a bag of hollow plastic spikes that I had a bitch of a time attaching to the small rubber spikes protruding from the mask. They kept falling off. Probably I should've had a pattern for affixing these things. I put it on and my eyes didn't line up with the eyeslits in the mask, my mouth at the mask's nose holes. It reeked of latex. Everything echoed. Since this was done a little before lunch, I was getting squirrley. My nose got all stuffy and I was afraid I was going to sneeze with the mask on and drop a bunch of spikes, not to mention mess up the mask. I made my way to the front of the office where 8 of my other coworkers had their masks on. I was in front, kneeling down, and supposed to be facing a camera I could barely see. For some reason, every time the coworker took the picture I smiled as if smiling my damndest would make this whole thing go quicker. Besides, my mouth was lined up with the mask's nose holes. I kept thinking I was poking those standing behind me, which would piss them off and cause spikes to fall off. I had no idea how far away those behind me were. At one point, one spike did fall off and someone had to put it back on while I still had the mask--read: full rubber hood--on. Did I mention that these things reek of latex? And they're heavy. I kept trying to face the camera but it was the mask face that needed to look in a certain direction, not me. Meanwhile my nose felt all stuffy and I could barely see. Everytime I tried to ask if the face was looking in the right direction since I could barely see out of my slits, I thought I was shouting. The next step was to take individual stills of the masks but since mine wouldn't stand up on its own, back on it went and someone had to walk me to the spot I needed to be in for my "headshot." I had no perception--couldn't see and hear and did this on an empty stomach with the smell of rubber overpowering even my sense of smell, so I ended up feeling like puking for the rest of the day. The pix are a scream, though. There's a few where my (mask) face isn't facing the camera even though I was. And even though #5's mouth is a zipper, I was smiling. I head other coworkers saying how brave I was for wearing the scariest mask.

This morning I was given McFarlane Toys' Slash action figure--complete with Marshall amps and Slash is brandishing his Gibson. This thing is badass and accurate, right down to the pins on his jacket--for my help and because they felt bad that I wasn't feeling well after. $50 and a deluxe boxed set Slash? Screw writing. I think I'll be a model instead.

So, P.S.

Long story short, I ended up at Trash on Saturday and caught The Pill and WWIX. The Pill because of course this has to be some sort of chick-rock band, right? Yup, and the sassy lead singer pouted her way through "Teenage Kicks" like she was born to cover the song. In between sets a guy in a WWIX T, crew cut (seriously), and with his jacket tied around his waist (seriously) sits down next to me and asks me how I'm doing, totally without preamble. My plan was to humor him until he realized that he was confusing me for someone else but then I knew exactly who he was. "Remember when we studied together?" he asked. Uh, yeah. Once. 11 years ago. I told him that Max has no idea who I am and he said, "Oh, he knows who you are now. He asked me if any of my coworkers are into punk. I laughed and said no. Needless to say I was laughing from time to time during WWIX's set, picturing a younger, blond-streaked Max in Hasbrouck Dining Hall in my mind--even with Blackout Shoppers Seth Amphetamine and Blackout Matt ripping it up in the pit and the recipients of WWIX's "Hungry For Beer." I offered Matt the ticket that I couldn't use and he didn't seem too thrilled but said that if I can't sell it to give him a call.

With the F not stopping @ 14th I took the L to 8th Ave to wait for the E, which is probably the same difference as getting the F at 14th and waiting later for the E at Jackson Heights. There was a young blonde European woman next to me talking to her male companions, trying to piece together what she did the previous night and I was engrossed in eavesdropping. I never saw it coming until it was too late. I was sitting on the end of the bench near the door. A guy was standing opposite me, leaning against the door. I don't think he even knew what was going to happen. I heard a loud sneeze and looked up just in time to see the guy opposite me projectile vomit across the train and it appeared to be going in slo-mo.....and right into my lap. It barely spatters the girl next to me and she's complaining that she has to spend a lot of money to dry clean her coat, which is nothing compared to a stranger's puke that blew and flew into my lap. I almost puked as well, as I had a bit to go 'til I got home.

I get home to a message from my mother: The shower is moved back a week, to the 20th! Without them even knowing about the whole ticket thing for the 13th! O...kay, I have a late show the night be--I mean, that morning and I think I bought the tix before I even knew that my sister is pregnant. But no shows on the 20th. Nope, not at all. (Then Monday I hear the date is going to change again. Not sure if it's pushed up, like a week before (which would rock) or pushed back, to the 1st week of December. If it is in December, I really hope it's not the 3rd.)

Boo-Yeah!

The days are getting shorter, there's a chill in the air, and I've come down with my first cold of the season. What better way to get in the Halloween spirit by sharing some pix from last Halloween? It's not a trick question, just a treat from Hollow Sidewalks. Happy Holloween!


Old pirates, yes: Black 47's Pirate Nite @ Connolly's 10/30/04





Breaker! Breaker! @ Irving Plaza, 10/31/04





Gravy Train!!! (I've never seen them before but I assume they don't dress like this at every show.)


(The guy kicked me in the face when he leapt into the audience.)


Le Tigre! (They should have an exclamation point in their name so they don't feel left out.)

The Anti-Heather

My cousin's baby shower, March 2001: I was away on a lost weekend that involved a Donnas show.

My sister's bridal shower, June 2002: I had tix and went to see The Gossip immediately after.

My sister's wedding weekend, July 2002: That Friday was the unofficial Spunk Lads CD release party @ Continental. Saturday I had to miss The Mooney Suzuki and The Donnas @ Siren, after seeing these bands for like the past 4 years. Sunday, after the wedding, I put my bag down and turned right around and went to Brownies to see The Donnas. I still had all these bobby pins with pearls stuck on them in my hair. At least I wasn't in my dress and heels. Though I would've gone down there in my dress because when the hell else would I ever wear it?

My sister's baby shower, November 2005: What a surprise, I bought a ticket a while ago before I even knew when the shower was.

I knew the timeframe when this thing was going to occur but what were the chances that it would be the same date? Besides this is my dumb luck? It's kinda funny that this show is @ Continental. I told them the one day I was unavailable and that's the day they have the thing.... Aside from the fact that I'm the godmother and should've been planning this whole thing myself. So I went online to see if I can make the show on the 11th or 12th. I couldn't find a Chinatown bus--or any bus--to Cambridge for the 12th. The only other choice is Philly on the 11th--and I just bought tix for that day as well, not to mention that it's a hike from the bus station to the venue. I called my mom and wailed at the injustice of it all and now I'll have to see if I can take off work to run to Philly. I was convinced that they planned it on the one day I was unavailable on purpose because this is the way my family is. No, seriously, it is. Even as I was on the phone bawling I realized how stupid I sounded but I didn't want to listen. My mom offered to reimburse me for the ticket but it's not about the money. What if the girl hosting the party had a conflict of interest? my mom asked. It isn't always about you, I tell myself. Still, I laid out my argument: I'm not a baby person, they knew when I was busy, am I going to have to have every weekend open until this kid starts kindergarten, I have a life too, I resign as godmother, this shower is in less than a month and the invitations have yet to go out, blah blah blah. My mom suggested I email them with the dilemma and put the blame on them since we've been emailing/calling for more info and they never return messages until the last minute. (As is the norm with my family for any get-together.) I could imagine the response: Do what you have to do (but you better do the right thing). So either I create a whole big scene and go to the show and feel like a guilt-ridden asshole or create a whole big scene and let them know what I've given up and go to the baby shower and sulk about the show. My mom said to email them and let them know the dilemma and see if they can reschedule, since the invitations have yet to go out. But I don't want to be the reason for causing a whole big thing.

I never emailed them. As I went to bed I realized that I sounded like a total baby the way I was carrying on. And no ticket, no show at The Continental, is worth the fallout that will follow my announcement that I'm skipping out on my own sister's baby shower. (Yeah, I'm Anti Heather. That's how I sign cards for the kid.) Besdies, I may be missing out on one show (and I've seen the headliners a few times before already. It's just that they're one of my few favorite touring bands) but now that I know when the shower is, I'm cleared for going out on the other target nights. So I may be losing 1 show but gaining 2 others, plus the show on the 11th, so 3 shows gained in all. And besides, it's probably going to be another mess @ The Continental--freezing outside, packed to the rafters inside and no air, me almost passing out, getting crushed in the crowd, moshers/crowd surfers, etc. It's not like this is the farewell tour for the headliners and the other supporting act I wanna see. There'll be other times. I'm sure I can sell the ticket at the show on the 11th and if not, $16.20 is a small price to pay for family harmony and not being a bigger black sheep than I already am.

Demonios In The Rough

The Mercury Seed/Somos Demonios//Pussycat Lounge//10/20/05

So. Since (Roger) Paz, (Scott MX) Turner, and (Dave) Benjoya have played host to The Spunk Lads' freeloading Nick Knickers, Bloody Dick, and Yid Vicious, respectively, lo these past 4 years, they've decided to join forces and start their own band.

Oh, bullshit. The former are the latter and vice versa. I don't know if I should even bother reviewing Somos Demonios because it's the post-Spunk Lads rebound band--I mean, they haven't even solidified a lineup and they (hopefully) might not even keep the name. But in order to solve their lack-of-drummer problem the other nite, "as with the MTA's weekend rerouting of trains"--the guitarist was the drummer and the bass player was the guitarist, a new guy on bass, "alas, our singer is still singing." Maybe that'll do the trick.

Still, I left at about 10 to 10 to get down to Rector St. by 11 even though I knew Somos Demonios weren't going on at 11 and what's more, it's not like I was gonna have to face a crowd when I got there. Every column in the subway station is plastered with notices that the G isn't running in these parts over the weekend. What else is new? someone wrote. It never runs. I got to The Pussycat at 10:30--jumped on the express to 14th for the 1 even though I was tempted to go locally. It's not like I had to rush but going local thru Queens when I have a show to get to (I almost just left it as "when I have a gig") makes me nervous. The Pussycat Lounge is great because it's right on top of the subway exit but sucks because the booking, on the whole, is crapular.

I get in a little after 10:30 to see the 10:00 band first soundchecking and flop down on the nearest couch. To my left is their mailing list and then I realized my mistake: there's no escaping this. Like I said, booking for The Pussycat is crapular--as is The Mercury Seed. They're non-confrontational, unchallenging bar rock that wishes it was grunge. The lead singer keeps both hands either on the mic or the stand the whole time. Or he picks the whole stand up and holds it across himself. I lean my head back and roll my eyes. Damn, this space is ugly. Damn, this band sucks. The whole problem is that I can see The Deli or SONYC giving them neutral-to-good reviews solely because they're a NYC band and the goal of those publications is to "support" the NYC music scene. It's just that their brand of hand-holding "journalism" sounds all the same, much like the LES/W'burg scene they cover.

I look up to the balcony and see Scott and I can't look at him because I'll start laughing about the band right in front of them. Since they're still on their 1st song and I'm sitting right in front of them I can't go upstairs because it'll look too obvious that I'm trying to get away from Mercury Seed. Besides, we'll end up being like those 2 cranky guys in the box seats on the Muppets (I forgot their names) and I can just picture the conversation: These guys suck. What? I said, these guys suck. What? What? No, what did you say? THESE GUYS SUCK--and by which point even the band would've heard us. (It's happened before. This is why we all need to know sign language. Besides, we're all going deaf from shows anyway.) I wait a bit and then make a break for it to the upstairs lounge, where there's a sign on the door designating this as the place to check clothing/accessories. On the toilet tank is a card for a band whose website is, I am not making this up, TheGreatestBand. TENEbRAE (that's really how they write it), a "theatrical doom metal band." "Performing at the CBGB Lounge in NY City. Doors will be open at 6:30." Uh. The flipside is even better: they're looking for a bass player is who is able to play their instrument and is between the The ages 20-27. "We are a band that is not into drug use if you are willing to make it in a band and have no ego...." And no use for punctuation. "Until again by the blood of the rose." And I thought Somos Demonios had problems? On my way back downstairs I say hi to Scott and his friend.

"We were just discussing what makes music great--"
"It's not this--"
"--and it's not this."
Back downstairs, Roger has arrived and asks me, "So, how're these guys?"
"You're listening to them."
"They've been like this?" he asks incredulously.

Now then. I'm not too thrilled with the current Somos Demonios lineup and I don't think they are, either. I know that's not the final lineup; I just say that so there will be at least one thing here that we can all agree on. I can't imagine that Scott likes being stuck behind the drums for this band because he just shines on guitar. It's also weird hearing songs that used to be done in a faux-Brit accent but it's like having that focus and discipline made them, as individuals, more focused and disciplined as a band. I was just standing there, thinking, Now, why'd'ja have to go break up a near-perfect (and since no band is perfect because while there's always room to improve there's also a chance of pissing me off so near-perfect is as good as it gets) band to do this? It just comes off as some good songs in search of a worthy band. I almost wish they wouldn't play gigs as a band until they figure out who's in the band and get their acts together. Take what was good about The Spunk Lads--the songwriting and the fun they all had onstage together--and build up from there. While they're lucky to have such a built-in crowd, they've gotta reach beyond that. Because it was also coming off as a band playing to their friends and therefore what more do we need? I mean, I guess The Spunk Lads were as well, but this time it just feels different. You're not The Spunk Lads anymore, fine, then stop alluding to the fact that you used to be TSL. Because if I were to get all Deli on them, the only thing I'd say is, Imagine if The Spunk Lads weren't British and you'd have Somos Demonios. You need the mindset that your band has to win over the people who happen to be at the club for a night of rock, not convince all of your friends that this is The New Spunk Lads. (And I'm not even going to jokingly suggest that as the new band name, it's just that I'd be remiss for not pointing that out.) As I'm sitting here writing this I'm looking at an old Lads' list and while there are 5 songs the same the SD list is 3 songs shorter, it always seemed that the Lads did more songs. Spunk Lads sets just seemed to fly right by because time flies when you're having fun at a show. I'm also not too thrilled with bands that have their own theme song. Maybe it's just that I see too many bands whose signature songs have become their theme songs. But like last week when I saw The Prince Hal Show--they had an opening and closing theme song and it put me in a different mindset right off the bat--like I was watching a sitcom and who takes a sitcom that seriously, anyway? Not to mention the band name: The Prince Hal Show. You're already going in thinking you're going to be entertained. Which, when you think about it, is what happens at a show--Here I am now, entertain me--but that's never what I get out of shows. I don't walk into a venue, tell them who I'm going to see as I pay my cover, and then expect entertainment. If I wanted to be entertained I'd buy the Family Guy DVDs or something and stay home. And I can veer off on a whole massive tangent and get all philosophical now but this isn't one of those deep-thoughts posts, it's a Somos Demonios review. Which is the point I was trying to make about the band in the first place. Well, what the fuck do I know about anything? I've been wrong before and perhaps I'm wrong now. I guess that remains to be seen. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm not qualified to comment because I've seen The Spunk Lads way too many times and that makes me predjudiced.

So anyway, when I got up to 14th Street there were workers on the tracks even though there weren't any signs about reroutes and I thought, This can't be a good thing. I was sitting there for a good 10 mins. before I barely heard some announcement about going down to W4. It was already late so I didn't wait around to try to hear it again. Somos Demonios jinxed the subway. I went back down to W4 for the E. Which took about 20 mins to show up. At least I wasn't so tired that I didn't realize that the Uptown E isn't right upstairs; it's upstairs and to the left. Right upstairs is the Downtown E. I don't even want to tell you what time I got in yesterday morning. Then I go to work and can't sleep on the subway. Some announcement that the E & F are rerouted over the R and there's no V. Like we're missing anything with no V. Debris on the track, they say. How much debris is on every track from Queens Plaza to W4 in order to have that much rerouting? What, is there a horde of elephants in the tunnels? Then it was "due to an earlier incident." Turns out it was that big fire @ W4.

Until again by the blood of the rose.

Finally!

Re: The Village Voice's Best Of NY issue:

Best use of potatoes? French fries at Eisenberg's, honorable mention: French fries @ Scenic. Nope. Best band with a glockenspiel? They Might Be Giants. Everyone knows that. Uh, no. It appears I'm wrong. Best potty-mouthed, guitar-slinging comedian? Mary Prankster. Duh. Oh, wait. Though Mary now resides in Manhattan, she's not a comedian. The Knitting Factory won best rock club bathroom--I guess there's a reason we refer to it as "The Shitting Factory." I love the line about how you can rest a drink on the tank and not have to worry about the ghoulies coming for it. Probably that's because the Ghoulies are usually down the hall playing the Tap Bar, or downstairs in the Old Office. So I don't get it. It's nice that the club that used to have 3 toilets and 1 "urinal" for the enitre 3-floor venue, both men and women, can win best rock club bathroom. They must be so proud.

Papa Christgau is usually unintelligable and strives to impress with his vocabulary (I wonder if he makes words up or uses them incorrectly just to see if anyone's paying attention but I stop reading after a while) but he did give Coldplay a dud-of-the-month rating. Chuck Eddy's most recent list of shoutouts was built around a Crazy Frog album. Nick Sylvester is the sarcastic hipster (though his review of the Bravery--"Everybody Wang Chung Tonight"--was classic) and even though the categories in the "Best Of" section are made up by staff writers and are "entirely subjective and (since nobody votes against them) completely unanimous" (nothing like democracy in action) the Voice finally got one right.
Congratulations to ZAK from Team Spider for winning "Best Old Man Living The Punk Lifestyle." (The full review and nice writeup of Team Spider can be found on the Voice's site under "Characters.") Of course the Voice finally hit the nail on the head because that category probably doesn't have any other competition. But, credit where it's due. Good one, Village Voice!

And no, you're not seeing things. Team Spider really did play The Living Room on Ludlow Street this past February as part of their TSunami Relief Metrocard Tour 2005.

It's Raining When?

"If you like the weather we've been having, we're planning a trip to Ireland for the beginning of May," Chris said. "It'll be just like this, so bring your bathing suits."

I actually hate the weather we've been having, but if I get a new job soonly that pays mad bucks, I'm a-goin' to Ireland. It'll be perfect--and at some point next year I'll work on buying an apartment 'cause I'll hafta renew my lease soon so I'll be out of here by next December but in the meantime with this slamming job, I'll get photo software not to mention film developed. See, I say that I'll go to Ireland in May if I have this great job because knowing my luck, I'll get this job but I'm afraid of flying. And spending rainy days in another country listening to the same band every night just might make me climb the walls but on the other hand I'd have the new job and money, which is what I want and that's why I make such a statement. I'm trying to jinx myself into getting a better job. Get it?

"The information will be posted on our website, which no one can spell. We should've called ourselves The Smiths but whaddaya gonna do?"

Then, during the break: "You know all the words. You must be a real fan."
Me: They're in the liner notes.
Huh?
The booklet for the CD, I tell her.
The woman asks if I'm related to anyone in the band. I should've said yes because I consider them my family but I say no.
"Do they take requests?"
For their own material. But not "Rebel Hip-Hop." Believe me, I've tried.

Then I thought that if I go into Connolly's on a random Saturday, I bet someone would ask me if I'm related to anyone in the band. They used to ask me if I was with anyone in the band and I hated that. Why couldn't people think that I have a discerning taste in music and that's why I'm going to see Black 47, not because I "have" to? Then I'd tell myself that maybe I should be flattered that people think musicians want me. And, like I said, I'm sure no one would think that about me anymore.

Afterward, I had to go up to 59th and back down 'cause the Uptown 6 wasn't stopping @ 51/Lex. On the E, I read the discarded AM NY. The article about gov't officials getting emails about the "terror threat"--the bit about the emails was posted on Snopes and then the Daily News picked up on this and reported it. You've gots to be kidding me. Snopes is the urban legend reference page. Are people freakin retarded? How did anyone miss that? It says so right there on the site. Then Mr. Wannabe Preppy Khakipants across from me takes a break from conversing loudly and drunkenly with his friend and starts singing "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me"--loudly and horribly. The friend gets off the train and Khakipants shouts: WELL! We all saw THAT! Now we know what it's LIKE to be an ASSHOLE on the SUBWAY!

Uh, yes, because you're still here.

He turns to the woman next to him and compliments her on her shoes: The shininess, your foot, everything.

They're actually pretty average black patent-leather flats. Okay, first you belt out a Boy George song, now you're admiring a woman's shoes and feet. She gives him a blank look. He leans back and then lays down on the seat, his head resting in front of her tote bag. Then he sits up and looks at me full-on. I wonder if he's going to put me in his routine. His stop comes first and he gets off, telling everyone in the car that we look healthy and that he loves us.

Hey, like I said. If I get a better job that pays well, I'm going to Ireland.

If the Chinatown bus stops at Dublin or Derry, I'm so there.

Rocking Us Like A Hurricane

@ Freddy's Backroom 10/11/05

So even though I knew this thing wasn't going to start at 7, I went there straight from work. If I went home first I'd get in at 6 and then I'd have to schlep back out on 3 trains. I got the email about the show and told myself I had to leave there at a certain time. I just didn't know 4 days beforehand what my cutoff time was. At least I knew that with the Freddy's Backroom All-Stars performing I'll see some good shit. I'm just not sure who. Or how much good shit.

(Some of the Freddy's Gang, doing their thang, 2004-2005. Scott MX Turner, Anna Copacabana, Dave Benjoya, and Roger Paz.)





Not being a resident of the Blessed Borough, I decided my cutoff time was 9:30. I shoulda realized that Standard Benefit Rules were gonna be in effect and it was 7:00 doors, 9:00 show. I also shoulda just left--they already had my contribution and I never win raffles anyway so it's not like I needed to stay. At 8:00 someone cranked the Kaiser Chiefs, making me sentimental for the days when Freddy's was host to the wankers of The Spunk Lads.

John Pinamonti started the show off on the right note with a great version of "House Of The Rising Sun," accompanied by Gavin Smith on accordian. Next up was acoustic rocker Joe Johnson, who offered up a handful of songs, including the moment of realization on "Drunker Than Me" and one that Scott "Chuck Eddy" Turner said sounded like a Luka Bloom song. Since his set finished a little after 9:30, I amended my departure to 10:00. Roger Paz provided a fun change of pace with the first installment of the benefit edition of the pub quiz. All answers had to be written on currency. Turns out Scott was up next and right before he started, I was overcome by this massive urge to sneeze--probably due to the lethal sauce on the hotwings doing a number on my sinuses. I never eat wings for that exact reason but I assumed that since they had to appeal to a broad palate they'd be mild but only after I had my second one did the atomic-ness kick in, and I heard Adrienne say they were the hottest ones Wing Wagon made. I was too afraid to let fly and distract Turner & Co. so I had to bite my tongue through the stirring "The Devil Down In The Water." And thankfully, the urge to sneeze passed.

(Yeah, the photo layout looked totally different in preview mode--2 and 2. Posted, it looked whack. So I tried to change the code and it looked worse, with text down the center--in preview. I'm trying to figure in my head which code each needs but it's too early in the morning to figger out. Eh, it's not like anyone reads this. You know me; either I go with it or I take down the pix. 'Course, I still could. So then I post. Another layout entirely. And I have to take it down and relabel and republish, view in a new window, find it's still fucked up, change one thing in the code, republish, lather rinse repeat. I am weary and about to fall over but I want to get this done for feck's sake.)

Thank God It's Monday

World War IX/Blackout Shoppers//Manitoba's//10/10/05

It's funny how many New Paltz alums are now in music. Jon from the Zambonis. Brian from Manitoba's and whatever the hell else he does. Lizzie Boredom from Lady Unluck. Max Strum from World War IX. Me from being up front at their shows. Here's some old pix of WWIX @ ABC No Rio. Yeah, Max asked me for them back in Feb. but what can I say? I'm a New Paltz grad. (Read: poor.) I didn't get these developed 'til July so I'm putting some up. (Yeah, like being on Hollow Sidewalks is a big ole consolation prize.)


I recognized Max right off the bat when I saw him heading down Rivington in February and I didn't know WWIX is his band, I just saw them listed around and had that day free. But it's their poppin' punk tunes ("Thank God It's Monday," "Intervention"), not to mention the tight guitar/bass from Justin and Annick that does the trick. Though Max said that Manitoba's was "the biggest place they've played," I had to be careful not to get impaled by Justin's guitar.

(Some old Blackout Shoppers pix from The Pyramid, 7/24/04)

Seth Amphetamine told us all to come closer and one girl yelled, "I don't want to get spit on!" Me either. I didn't want to get spit on or snot rocketed on. Or end up in a serious mosh pit with people who know what they're doing. I tend to keep out of mosh pits (but have been known to start 'em)-- especially when smashing and grabbing starts--but seeing moshers for Blackout Shoppers makes me happy 'cause people are happy and the band is going over well. Blackout Shoppers are a tad more hardcore (but good hardcore) than I usually listen to, but seeing Seth in a huddle with his crowd, singing "Everything's Gone Wrong" could warm the crustiest of punk hearts. On the way back to the subway I picked up an L mag to have something to read. There's a pic on the cover of some boarded-up construction site with graffiti art that has a Blackout Shoppers sticker on it.

Punk Aid

@ Wild Spirits//10/9/05

I didn't realize that the Manhattan-bound R train is the new place to flyer but when I went in to research the Button-O-Matic machines I took the R all the way to 59th for the express since I was in no rush. A gang of people got on @ Steinway, including one Xtene, bass player for S.M.U.T. I said hi and she gave me a flyer for Punk Aid, hosted by S.M.U.T.'s Cutie Calamity @ Wild Spirits (for the United Way Disaster Reief Fund). I also didn't realize that the UES is the new LES but I guess so. The show starts at 2PM and there was a rather impressive list of bands. While I've only seen 4 on the list, either I've wanted to see the others or their names sounded cool, so I was bracing myself for an all-day affair. 17 bands listed! Holy shit. See, at first I was relieved that I never got a ticket for the Vibrators because it turned out there were 10 other bands on the bill, but then I would've had the practice for such shows. But I did find set times. 2PM-2AM. Uh, no. And the sets are only 20 mins each. Besides, it's for charity. Still, I found myself wishing I had a book to read, or even a word-search book. A GameBoy. Anything. I went down 95th St. past all these luxury rental apartments thinking, Some people have all the luck. Wild Spirits used to be Hogs & Heifers Uptown; gone are all the saddles draped with bras that lined the walls but now there's a stage toward the back. And it was small, dark, and smoky, so there wouldn't have been anyplace to read. So for all the punx out there keeping score:

Test Specimen: I got there around 4:15 to see the 3:45 band setting up. Not really a problem since I've seen Test Specimen before. I guess they swtiched times with the next band 'cause the band that was supposed to go on after them didn't. Even though time was called, they asked if they could do 2 more. Grrr. This brings to mind the 1st time I saw them on a matinee @ Continental and they kept going in the dark even though the place was shutting down. Not a way to make a first impression. After their ska number "Too Hungover To Rock & Roll," Xtene said they sounded like the Clash. Good song, yeah, but I don't think the Clash would've asked to do an extra song during a benefit.

Retard Riot: Or, should I say The Retard Riot. I didn't know there was a Retard Riot out of Connecticut. No offense to the CT Retard Riot, but I was expecting the artist/musician Noah Lyon. Had I known, I could've/would've adjusted my arrival time. I told Xris about the show, thinking it was the other Retard Riot and he said he was going. I was hoping he didn't come expecting to see one Retard Riot and getting another, and then getting mad at me. The CT RR has such ditties as "Sandwiches and Blowjobs" and the rockabilly "I Love That Girl So I Fucked That Girl In The Face." At 59th/Lex while he and his girlfriend were waiting for the N and I the R, Matt Retarded told me that he was actually diagnosed as being a sociopath.

Stressbomb: Also from CT. Good, mid-90s punk. They have potential and I could see them getting somewhere. They did kinda remind me of the Suicide Machines. So I guess it's a good thing that I've heard an SM album so I can say this with some accuracy. For those who are unfamiliar with SM, while watching Stressbomb I instantly thought of that article in The Onion: 90's Punk Decries Punk Of Today.

Hidden Eyes/Second Class Citizen Split Set: Can't remember if they actually had a split set or not, it's just that both are hardcore, with that 100MPH barking vocals. I'm not a big fan of that hardcore tradition, but I preferred Second Class Citizen's delivery. "I know it's small in here and I'm ugly," SCC said, encouraging us to mosh anyway. Fans of Eyes Of Hate would like them.

Blackballed: I wussed out and left to get food. It was 7PM by this time and I did want to catch The Basicks. The thing is, the show was no re-entry until 8PM though the girl at the door was nice and was letting people out. Nothing like being trapped in a dark, tiny bar all night. When I asked if I could leave and get food, the girl said she really wasn't supposed to be letting people out. Yeah, well, you're really not supposed to smoke in bars in NYC but I won't tell if you won't. I got back to find SCC's drummer and another guy squatting down by the garbage, fascinated by the rats. "We're not from around here," the drummer said, explaining why this sidewalk zoo was better than watching the bands. They'd named one rat Nicodemus. I caught the last Blackballed song and it felt like I didn't miss a thing.

The Basicks: There was just too much hardcore on the bill. I'm not just saying that because I'm not a big hardcore fan--listening to the same sound for the past hour was like overkill. Maybe it seemed longer because I'm not a fan of the genre. But The Basicks' pop-punk sound was like a breath of fresh air. Mid-90s whoah-oh punk. They have a 7" out on Lookout! It was like hearing a fuller band after stipped-down hardcore.

Caught In A Trap: Back to the hardcore. It just seemed like that's all that was on the bill. They called time and the band kept going, with a guy sitting alongside the stage singing. They announce that they have 2 more, did a song, then said, "Ok, now we have 2 more." Either he's a huge fan or he used to be in the band. He kept going on about how he wasn't expecting this, as he just got off work and came over. He's a super. Or, as he said, a slumlord.

Hooliganism: I like the band, but someone needs to tell their fans that there's a right way to do a circle pit and a wrong way. Running around with limbs flailing? Wrong. Purposefully flinging yourself into bystanders? Wrong. I get it, you're punk rockers. I see your studded belts and the mohawks worn by your fave band. The goal of moshing isn't to have bouncers throwing you out, which happened 3x.

S.M.U.T.: No Place To Piss were supposed to be next, but S.M.U.T. went on instead. Another breath of fresh air. Y'know what was really missing from this lineup? (I mean besides standout bands?) Female musicians. Maybe that was the problem with having all that screamy hardcore. Too much testosterone in the air. It's not that the hardcore bands were agressive, it was a relief to finally hear a different sound. Cutie Calamity accessorized her pink mohawk with the Blackberry that held the lyrics to their new songs and there was a request for "Bloody River," but Cutie said it was the wrong week of the month for that. Closing number "There's Gonna Be Blood" is actually about a fight at a show, not the other thing.

Rabia were setting up next and I wasn't sure when No Place To Piss was going on so I left. Which turned out to be a good thing because there were no downtown trains @ 96, so I had to go up to 125th St. and back down. I know it's a benefit and all, but 6 hrs. in a venue on a Sunday where there was smoking allowed for the majority of that time was a bit much.

It's A Mod, Mod, Mod, Mod, Modrocket World

Modrocket @ Arlene's Grocery//10/6/05

Arlene's Grocery is rarely my first choice of venues to see a band; I never sweat their calendar at midmonth or toward the end of the month so I can plan my next month accordingly. I do check their listings in the paper every week and whenever something sounds good, I'll go if I'm free. As was the case with Dougie Needles & the Public Offenders. Turns out Needles was Joan Jett's guitar player, so I guess there is something to my theory of seeing acts that have a cool name. And that's the problem with Arlene's Grocery. A lot of the acts are still kinda no-namey and they kinda have an "impressing your parents, their friends, your coworkers, and housemates with a gig on the LES" vibe. Or, put another way, their booking is one step up from the old Acme Underground (where I never went) which was one step up from The Bitter End and The Elbow Room. (Has anyone ever been there?) TONY once had a handy pullout venue guide which broke it all down in a Zagat's-esque survey, grading venues on sound quality, bar, and talent booked and I pretty much agreed and laughed out loud in commiseration. So I'm not just being a bitter oldster here. Oreo peed on the guide.

So even though I've been hearing that Modrocket is not to be missed and EMI was allegedly by to check 'em out, I still had that skeptical, "going to see a friend's band" mindset. Besides, I told myself, lead singer Alice Blythe (yep, Geoff's little girl) is only 16. The Donnas did it first. Not that I doubted Jason's enthusiasm. The place filled up nicely, probably thanks to it being an A/A show and after they called everyone closer, there was no way a latecomer could plinko up. At first it was a little hard for me to get around constantly noticing that Alice looks like a petite, blonde version of her mother strutting around onstage and the drummer looked really familiar. Maybe I saw her at a show?

The Donnas comparison doesn't really hold beyond the fact that they're an all-female 4-some and young when starting out. The Donnas--in the beginning--were more pop-punk and had a very California sound. Modrocket covered "Now I Wanna Be Your Dog" and they're in the same vein as the bands that were formed to be heirs to the "garage rock" sound--your Star Spangles, Weekenders, Babyshakes, Electric Shadows, Some Action. The difference is Modrocket--while a little primitive--is actually quite good. Those other bands were all style over substance--turned 21s with clothes and haircuts older than they are. And Xgau gave the Star Spangles' first album a grade in the C range and I wish they would just break up already. Some Action is kaput and I heard that The Mooney Suzuki is no more. Modrocket's music is better than bands older than they are and don't get me started on their lyrics. When I was their age I was still writing notebook poetry, rhyming strife and life. "You're only 16 with a 25-year-old smile" from "Sixteen." When I was their age there was no way I could be onstage in a band. They closed with a cover of "Personality Crisis." The only problem I had--and it's a small one--is the guitar player and bassist, while competant, stood stock-still so it was hard to get a feel for their personalities. Not sure how many gigs they have under their belts, but they can only go up from here and break hearts all over NYC.

Modrocket ended a little after 8 and it was early and since I was there and already paid my cover and, being me, was curious about On Dead Machine. The place cleared out and they set up and did a soundcheck. A guy came onstage and thanked us from the bottom of his heart for checking out ODM's first gig in NYC. Uh, this is probably going to suck. Sure enough, a Kurt Cobain-esque guy takes his place at the mic along with the beefy, bearded guitar and bass player who look like they belong in some Ozzfest metal band. They say that if it's too loud you're too old, so I guess I am. When I went downstairs to use the bathroom before leaving, I could still hear them perfectly. Outside, Modrocket's guitarist and drummer told me they were standing next to me at the Donnas' show @ Webster Hall. Aha! The drummer was a blonde then. I knew she looked familiar.

Since it was still early and I was there, I decided to support the friendly neighborhood Cakeshop. Cookies & Cream cake. It rearranged my brain cells for a sec.

Nutty Irishmen, Indeed

Seanchai & the Unity Squad/Rogue's March/The Ruffians/Black 47//The Nutty Irishman//10/1/05

I hate holidays started by corporations for the sole purpose of commercialism, like Valentine's Day. So you can only imagine how I feel about this newest of holidays, Halfway to St. Patrick's Day. So far, there have been 3 separate dates for it this year--and the attendant concerts. One on 9/16, 9/17, and this one, 10/1. Celebrate Halfway but drink responsibly all night long! read the Guinness ad @ Rocky's. Not only did Guinness sponsor the Green 17 Tour "17 cities celebrating the revelry of St. Patrick's Day" (starring Flogging Molly) in March, now there's a Halfway to Green 17 tourlet, starring Flogging Molly.

I know I said I was never going to shows like this again and you can only imagine how much I wanna spend my Saturday at a bar called The Nutty Irishman on Bayshore, Lawn Guyland for Halfway to St. Patrick's Day. The bar's schedule, with its ubiquitous leprechaun mascot, is chock full of stupid tribute bands and beer pong. They've probably never had real music out there. And there's a clock counting down days and hours to St. Pat's. I was thinking that if people go to Halfway events, that's what makes it stay. It's just so much leftover craic. (Apologies to Leftover Crack.) But it's also a benefit for the Suffolk County Firefighters Emerald Society and as Frank pointed out during one of my many protestations, "These are your bands." (Well, most of 'em.) When I saw the lineup I figured Leo The Firefighter is the one to thank for that. Still, please refer to the part about the Halfway angle and "Coney Island, Baby." But I guess I doth protest too much because I felt my arm being twisted. 'Course it's the one that's already been dislocated so it didn't have far to go. 'Course after agreeing do I get word that there's a lot of good shit in the city that night. Then again, at least now I'm off the hook for choosing one and wondering what I'm missing with the other shows, and feeling guilty for missing them.

At least I wised up this time. I did not bring a camera. I was thinking bring it but don't use it, but you know me; I would. And it may be Halfway to St. Patrick's Day but I don't even have the pix back from the real St. Pat's. Seanchai's on at 12:30 in the afternoon and that's another reason for going. They need us. I wish I could say that that's the earliest in the day that I've ever seen them but I've seen 'em at 2AM @ the Blackthorne; I kinda count that as the previous night. It was a gorgeous day out and thanks to Frank being 20 minutes late to pick me up, I got to enjoy some of it. We drove off, listening to Neil Young falling off the edge of the earth and seeing the bluebird and wondering if she's going to carry him home. We had to pull over at Exit 39 because the car was overheating. He popped the hood and smoke was coming out. Uhm, that can't be good. He didn't have anti-freeze and that supposedly was a problem. I don't know why, since it wasn't cold out and I don't know how anti-freeze could've helped.

I was calm about it and that worried me, though I couldn't decide what I wanted to happen more: we get towed back to Queens and I go back to sleep, we make it to the show, or I die in a car explosion. (Not that I wanted to die, it's just, well, you know what I mean.) Frank gets a shirt out of the trunk and starts wiping at stuff under the hood and then sludge spouts out. I jump out of the car in case it blows up. Then I realize that standing at the side of the road isn't going to help me escape the fireball that the car may become. A schoolbus with a sign taped in the window goes by. The sign says 47. This is a sign, except I don't know if it's good or a bad. I tell myself to go back to the car and get the cellphone, in case the car blows up. This way I can call for help. But the car may blow up. But in case we need to call someone.... I get the phone and Frank says something about if we only had bottled water. I have a smidge of soda left. Maybe we could use that to cool down the overheating car parts? We limp into the Hess station at Exit 40 and while Frank goes to buy anti-freeze, I start crying. We get a little lost and figure Chris is first waking up and thinking he has to be somewhere. And if we got lost Chris must've, also. We get in and Seanchai has already started.

Seanchai: 1, Us: how many years have we been traveling to see them? Yeah, they finally beat us to their own gig. The place is a sprawling club and the stage is in front of a window. With the curtains open and dried tears on my contacts they were in a shadow. Rachel didn't have the console. Chris said he knew everyone was interested in the big game and would keep us updated throughout the set. Mets: 2, Rockies: 1. At least there was a buffet. Terry asked me what made the corned beef & cabbage Irish and not Jewish. So I explained to the Irish hip-hop band's Polish drummer that the food's Irish because we're in an Irish club and if it were Jewish, the cabbage would be in cole slaw.

Joe said that the new album is due out in January but didn't say what year. Every year at the Rock Revue he'd say the new Rogue's March album is out in the fall and at gigs toward the end of the year he'd say it'll be out for St. Pat's. "It's a little known fact that it's a little known fact that I'm here to inform you--" That this is the to Christmas that we've been all year so you're going to do "Amsterdam Mistress"? No, it's that Johnny Cash was born up the block and they did "Folsom Prison." But when they did "Amsterdam Mistress" he said that this is the closest we've been to Xmas and St. Pat's. And that he hopes West Ham beats the Yankees.

Dan was kinda back in the Ruffians, not on bass but on backup vocals. In addition to the new bass player there was a guy on violin and Joe M. was on pipes. I'm not a big fan of superfluous band members and I know they're an Irish rock band, but they don't need 7 members. They encouraged us to drink a lot, dance a lot, and take our clothes off. Well, 2 outta 3 ain't bad. In the middle of a waltz Dan's pants end up around his ankles. He pointed out that it was easier when he was on bass because the bass covered everything. They said that the raffle was for Dan's knickers but with him in it. Dammit! Oh, well. It's for a good cause. The "show us your tits" line in "Wild Rover" is now "rise up your shirts." Sean: So, what did you think? Me: Your set's so much better when my face isn't all bloody. Him: Oh, God, that was the worst. That just did it for me. I felt so bad. You probably couldn't tell. (I know now that it was wrong to stay but I would've felt worse if I missed the show on top of what happened.) Me: It's a great line-up. Him: Yeah, with the violin. (Actually, I meant the whole bill but I just agreed with him anyway.)

Some drunk guy started yelling, "Black 47's gonna tear this place up!" all through the stepdancers' performance. ("Those in the front need to stand back because they may kick you!" chirped the instructor.) I forgot his name but he was at Coney Island last year. He kept grabbing me and kissing me. I wanted to kick his ass but what was the point, he was drunk. "I saw Black 47 at the Knitting Factory and they tore the place up!" I told him I went to the early show. He said he was at both. Oh. "Larry!" "Black 47's gonna tear this place up!" He stumbled and nearly knocked me over, taking out my pint in the process. "I see you on the Internet." Huh? "There's pictures from shows and there you are!" (Phew. Had me worried there for a sec. Wait a minute.) I figured I should hit the can ahead of time (where there's a flyer for 2 stars from The Real World and Road Rules for beer pong being filmed for Spike TV). Back outside, someone said, "He's knocked over 3 people's drinks already."

Seeing Black 47 on a stage in a physical venue and with an enthusiastic (read: drunk) crowd was better than the Coney Island show, though the band was pretty much nailed to the floor. I don't know why I never noticed that before. The set felt like it was missing a song or 2; I could've sworn they always did 14-15 songs plus the encores. This time there were 12. I was thinking that if I noticed that and it's that obvious, then it's probably true. Whaddaya know, an old setlist up in the cube has 15 songs. (Well, 14 but "3 Birds" is always followed by "Desperate.") Gail was giving out stickers with a shamrock and leprechaun that said "I Got Sham-rocked At The Nutty Irishman." Some people had beads. Sean and Dan joined them for "Funky Ceili" and I was so tempted to get onstage with them. It was killing me. And then Larry called Hurley onstage for "Gloria/I Fought The Law." I don't bring my camera and this happens. Eh, so what. Though I wanted to get onstage and jump off. But I figured P2 would have me over his shoulder and out the door in a second. I'd only do that stuff with the Spunk Lads. Much to their dismay. And it would probably start everyone else doing it. And I know the band wouldn't want me to do it so I didn't. The same old all around but for a good cause.

We got back at 9:15 and I figured it would be too late to go to Freddy's. Besides, there's supposedly 3 new Seanchai songs. I left at 10 and got to 51/Lex to find out that late nights and weekend there's no downtown 6 @ 51/Lex. So.... Oh, right. It's Saturday. So I had to go up to 59th and then to the downtown 4/5 where the 6 was stopping. Time was ticking and the 4 came pretty quick and I got on, assuming it was going local to make up for the lack of 6 and relieved that the train came quick and it was express. So at 14th I had to go back uptown. One step forward and two steps back. But I got there just in time. I realized that the 3 songs could've been done only in rehearsal. But they did "Who Stole Ya Soul?" and I should've known that a new Seanchai song could be an old one, updated. Though after "Irish Catholic Bhoy" they did "Viva Che" (Chris: Gracias! Somos Seanchai y.... la Squad Unidad!) and there was an extended remix of "Bogside Girl." Well, not really a remix since it sounds the same but it ended in an instro verse. Whatta you know, 3 new songs after all.

Yeah, I don't think Blogger posts are supposed to be this long but fuck it. I only have one regular reader.