Chicks On Speed Will Save Us All

Kevin Blechdom & Planningtorock/Chicks On Speed//Knitting Factory//11/19/05

The train was leaving Jamaica at 10:16. I could've sworn my mom mentioned she was leaving at 9:30, because somehow I got it in my head to leave at 9:30 as well. Even though she was leaving Flushing and going by bus. I got up at 7:30, went back to sleep for an hour, then took a shower. I went to load up my camera and found that I accidentally bought 12-exposure film. So I flew to the ATM and to Rite Aid for film at 9:15 and realized that there was no way I could make it to Jamaica in time. Why did I even go out last nite? This is the worst thing that I have ever done. Well, I've done worse. A few times I missed the train. OK, I won't go out on the 23rd because I have to be at my mom's at 9 on the dot on the 24th. Thank God I bought the new Metrocard the night before. I saw the lights of the oncoming train for about 3 minutes, thinking I was screwed. These damn trains. But that rang false even to me. Finally the R came at like 9:40 and there wasn't that much of a wait for the E at Continental. When I got out at Jamaica did I realize that my mom was probably shitting a brick and it wasn't fair to her. Even though I did get to the station at 10:05.

We went down for the train and she said, "What's that on your face?" I feign bafflement. "On the left side of your face, you've got a blue a mark. Like a circle."
If I get a handstamp on the lower half of my right hand near my thumb, it always ends up under my left ear in my sleep. I ignore the comment. Just as I thought, we were too wound up for me to sleep on the train. The cookies probably didn't help. I checked my lipstick and saw the blue star clearly under my left ear, and the two stripes in between each angle. "Do you see that on your face?" I feign deafness.

I slept on the train back to Jamaica and when we got to the station, I was all tired from eating too much. I was sorely tempted to blow off the show and try to get a refund later. If not, $20 is nothing compared to my well-being. Destroying myself physically since I'm destroyed financially sounded all dramatic, nihilistic, and punk rock in theory but now as the 3rd late-late show, at the Knit no less, is upon me I wonder how smart that was. I probably won't be able to get out of bed the next day. Well, that's what Sundays are for. Back home I tried to sleep but instead just lay in bed with my eyes closed, for the most part, until 9:30. I checked the ticket. 11:00 doors, right? Holy shit, 11:55 PM. What the hell was I thinking?

Hipsters have weird shoes and I could tell who was there for Chicks On Speed based on their footwear. The board said CoS on at 2 AM. I can always leave early. Inside I had a Bedford Ave. if Bedford Ave. were in Long Island type to my left in silver stilettos, too much blue eyeshadow, and a fur coat. I can't stop coughing and my eye gets irritated. I feel feverish. The girl in the fur coat is actually from Ohio and drove all this way for the show. A guy standing nearby struck up a convo with her and her friend. He's from New Zealand and just happend to be here on vacation. He asked the girl in the eye shadow if she knew where NZ is. "Near Finland?" "If it were near Finland, then I'd be cool." Secretly, I dub the Ohioan ringleader Paris Hilton. She knows NZ is where they filmed Lord Of The Rings and he says NZ is just like that, and you can't go down the street without running into a freakin gnome.

I thought Kevin Blechdom and Planningtorock were 2 separate acts that I'd have to stand through, but they were a duo. Captured! By Robots unlistenable? This was terrible. Other Music-y stuff that I just did not get. Kevin Blechdom is apparently a woman, and she was dressed in black with a hoop skirt and ugly shoes. Planningtorock is a woman dressed all in white with the lower half of her face painted white. They did a ballad and then Kevin sat down on the side of the stage while Planningtorock...uh, planned to rock. She did a few songs standing on a crate right up against the monitors so that I had to crane my neck to see her, and then put some white thing on her head while a projector played stuff behind her. Then Blechdom rejoined her and they did some noodley songs. A guy pushed his way onstage and did some beatboxing. He was the only one dancing, and there seemed to be a divide; those to my right were getting into it and starting to move around while everyone to my left just stood there going Huh? And then I felt somebody at my calves on my left and then I get pushed. Great. It's starting already. I turn around to glare at the culprit...who was on the floor. I swear, we all must've stood there stupidly for a full 5 seconds before we realized that this was not part of the show and someone picked the girl off the floor and helped her out. Great. It's starting already. A few of their songs were OK, but I couldn't help think that maybe you need to be on drugs in order to like them. And fuck art, let's rock.

Then for an excruciating hour a DJ played while I tried not to collapse. NZ chatted with Paris. She spent the day at H&M and Sephora, to buy makeup. "Isn't there any makeup in Ohio?" "But it doesn't say Sephora." The place was packed for 2AM. I felt warm and couldn't tell if it was my sweater and the crowd or I'm coming down with something. Probably both. He then asked us if we voted for Bush. (He kept thinking I was with them, even though I said I didn't know them the last time he asked. And I'm about 10 years older than they are.) We said no and he told us that George Bush scares him, and all of New Zealand. Lovely.

Like X-Ray Spex but from the 21st (or possibly 22nd) century, the German art Chicks On Speed collective (DAT Politics is on their label) combine elements of Le Tigre, X-Ray Spex, and a little of the Epoxies. The trio, with stripes painted on their faces, dressed in futurisitc florecent vinyl getups with electronics brand names written in silver. They did CoS anthems We Don't Play Guitars and Eurotrash Girl to a sedate crowd, with deadpan vocals on Fashion Rules and songs about selling out. Maybe it was the late/early hour, but when I saw them in 2001, also at the Knit, the cowd--and band--tore the place apart. The band because they hung enlarged reprints of their reviews and other art all over and they ripped them up and handed the scraps out as souveniers. "Is it illegal to dance in NYC?" NZ asked as he came crashing past. Maybe it was that the musical landscape has changed so much since the last time they played. Everyone has their 'pods and electroclash rock city has come and been shoved down everyone's throats and is now gone. It's like everyone was there because they knew they had to go. That, and their set ended at 3:15 in the fucking morning. I liked watching them more than I liked their newer material.

On the way out, I could've sworn the guy said good-bye and it's always good to see me, like he remembered me from the Phenomenauts show. You mean harrassing (paying) patrons and band members hasn't been good for business? Given how many bands I see, treating me and my friends like criminals is never a good business move. At 14th St. I headed down for the F and a woman stops me and asks if the 4/5 stops there. I tell her no, only the 1,2,3,L, and F. She tells me that someone told her it did, either they didn't know or tried to mislead her purposefully. "I don't know how this world works," she said in her defense. "Probably both." I tell her a few ways to get to the 4/5 from there and then she asks how to get to the N. She says, "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to go home." So immediately I think that she's got some abusive sitch at home. Or maybe she's trying to pick me up, or distract me so that someone can pick my pocket--it's 3:45 in the morning and we're the only ones at the end of the platform. So I give her instructions on how to get to the N. She thanks me because, she says, she needs to get home and go to sleep before going to work. But she just said she didn't want to go home. But she just said she needed the 4/5, not the N. Shaking my head, I head down the underpass to the F, looking behind me all the time because now I'm the only one in the corridor and I wonder if this is her plan, if someone's coming for me.

I was up on Sunday and had planned on going to CVS to pick up my pix, but they're back in after 1:30. I lay down 'til then, and then got up at 5. Since I didn't have my glasses on, I couldn't see if the PM was lit up on my clock. Please tell me it's really 5 in the morning and I didn't waste my whole day 'cause I have so much to do. But then again, I first went to bed at 5AM. And I barely remembered being up earlier in the day. Well, that's what Sundays are for. I'll try better next week.

I'm Always Right

"Didja hear what they want to name the band now?"
He leaned in closer.
"I said, 'Didja hear what they're gonna name the band?' "
"What?"
For some reason, I assume the "what" is because he can't hear me over the band playing, since I can barely hear myself over the band playing. I forgot who it was, perhaps Caught In A Trap.
"Didja hear what they're gonna name the band?"
Of course there's no reason to say exactly who we're talking about since it's blatantly obvious.
"WHAT?" Leans in, points at his ear.
"Motormouth." The word leaves my mouth like a pebble, like a swear uttered under my breath, like giving up.
Pause. He considers this for a bit, and then shrugs. "Well, it's better than Somos Demonios."
He likes one of the names Scott & I are gunning for.
"Roger doesn't like it."
Matt shrugs again, and then walks away.

Gobble Gobble Hey!

I wish I could take credit for that one but CBGB actually came up with that; it's on their calendar ad for this week.

I decided not to go out tonite. I wanted to go to Lit but thought of staying in when I heard I'd have to be at my mom's @ 9AM and didn't want to be out late the nite before. Then when it was changed that I'm meeting her @ Jamaica for the 11:47 train, I figured that was a green light for going out the nite before.

There's a Bollocks listed at Lit. $5. Could be good. Random searching online came up with the obligatory X-rated references and Sex Pistols references. A mention of a crappy, 2-piece ska band. But it's $5, the night before T-Day. When I don't have to get up (that) early the next day. I checked on Interpunk. A 'hawked and studded Japanese streetpunk band. Y'know, for some reason I can't see Lit booking a band like that. The Bollocks played at Arlene's but there was no link on the site. I can't see Arlene's booking a Japanese streetpunk band. I checked their rekkid label's site for tourdates. Nope. So I had to look on Myspace to see who had a gig @ Lit listed. Nothing for Bollocks but a few for The Bollocks. I kept thinking, Please let it be the Japanese streetpunks, please let it be the Japanese streetpunks, but watch it be the ones from Brooklyn describing themselves as "Alternative/Breakbeat/Rock."

Of course. And they're a duo, so maybe they're the "ska band" someone mentioned. Plus they look like douchebags, as does their site. The other choice was Uzuhi/The Spunks/54 Nude Honeys @ the Tap Bar, but that's $10 plus film/batteries and at the Knit. And right after I went off on the Tap Bar.

So either I'm a wuss or wise for staying in. Besides, I have a ton of stuff to do @ home. But will probably end up in front of the computer, writing. Hey, the more writing I get out of the way now, the more time I'll have later for cleaning the place and stuff later.

Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto!

Schaffer The Darklord/Captured! By Robots//Tribeca Rock Club//11/18/05

I shouldn't've gone out Friday. I knew that. I was fully prepared to stay in since I had to get up super early Saturday and I needed all of my strength to deal with my family. That's why I never bought adv. tix to the show. But when I got an email ending with see you Friday, I figured that since I'm spending the day at a baby shower, seeing Seanchai the night before would make me feel so much better. But since there was a wuss in the bunch (not me), C!BR was back on, especially now that Tribeca is closing down in December. I'm not too surprised about that. Even winning "Best Club For The Lazy & Limp-Legged" can't help because of their booking and they only have shows from Wednesday to Saturday--and they get primarily jam bands, tribute bands, and no-namers, but not enough of the good stuff. Saw The Zambonis/Atom there, the Briefs, Mary Prankster, Satanicide, C!BR, Zambonis headlining, Juliette & the Licks. They did, oddly enough, book some punk shows but in NYC, you gotta have shows every night in order to stay afloat.

I was just worried because not only did I have to get up early Saturday, I had a late show that nite. And I was out on Thursday--not the "Dead Kennedys" but Lady Unluck for Lizzie Boredom's last Continental show before she heads west for Fabulous Disaster and Dougie Needles & the Public Offenders, who all had the flu. (Mandy said she was going to see the "DK." It's a good thing I told her about the gig, then, since she's a fan. She also didn't know Jello Biafra isn't in the band anymore. "When else are we gonna get an opportunity to see them? Then again, that's what we said about The (NY) Dolls and now it seems they're playing every week.) When I woke up on Friday my back hurt and my shoulder socket ached as did my arm. But it feels like there's something in the air--and not just the cold I'm coming down with. I just get this feeling that there's changes to come and missing the C!BR show makes me a contributor to this. Besides, I'm going broke and I may not be able to afford to see them in the spring. Besides, there was this for the April gig:

Contrary to their name, not electroclashers. More like flyover-country, cyborg Gwar-style performance-art bullschtick, apparently. Except they sound sort of like Insane Clown Posse, at least when they try to rap. When they do death-metal stuff, they’re even more inept. And then there are the cabaret songs about being, like, Jewish. Or something—they have a concept album called Ten Commandments. Which sucks. Also: Cobraman. (EDDY)

Which is wrong because Gwar is made out of people and Captured! By Robots is made out of robots. And "songs about being, like, Jewish"? You mean Hebrew Man is "about being, like, Jewish"? Okay, he don't like C!BR, fine, that's your opinion, but don't dis and dismiss a band or their material because they're Jewish. When I was at that show, a guy asked me if I'd read the review and I told him I did. "Why do they gotta take everything so seriously?" he'd asked.

This was the review for Friday's gig:

These flyover-country Gwar-style performance-fart bullschtickers mix Insane Clown Posse-imitation thrash-rap slop with cyborg cabaret songs about being, like, Jewish. Their new CD, combining a juggalo-moronic "musical version of the movie version of The Ten Commandments" with something called Get Fit With . . . Captured! By Robots, is unbearable. With Schaffer The Darklord. (Eddy)

Flyover-country? What about C!BR is "flyover-country"? What is flyover-country? Unbearable? What about them is unbearable? I told myself: Waah waah waah my back hurts? Stop being such a baby. Besides, winter's coming and I'm not going to want to go out that often. I checked Tribeca's site: Doors 9, Shaffer 9:30, C!BR 10:30. See, that's not so bad. A listing earlier in the month had everything going on an hour later. Compared to Seanchai's 1:15-1:30 end, that's not so bad at all. But I left my camera home. I still have pix to develop from April and will be taking pix all day at the shower.

"Didja read the review we got?" JBot asks me. I told him I did, and that's why I had to go. And the "like, Jewish" part being an insult on top of whether or not he liked the band. Not only do they suck, they're Jewish, too. "Somebody from The Press is supposed to be coming to do a feature, but maybe they won't after seeing that. It's funny, we're media darlings everywhere but NYC." So I told him how Eddy always does stuff like that and puts so much effort into acting like he doesn't care. "He probably only likes stuff like the Flaming Lips. I could let it bother me," JBot said, "but I've got panties to arrange and they're not doing what I want them to." He went on arranging merch, but it still bothered him. He went on about needing a thick skin and you can't let it bother you although sometimes it does and I'm standing there while he's working and talking to me, thinking, It's almost like I'm interviewing him! This is great! He finishes with "What do you call 1000 dead music writers at the bottom of the ocean?" What? "A good start." A guy at the bar offered to sell the C!BR merch during the gig. "Market research shows that people don't buy a lot of merch during the gig. Actually, market research shows that we're unlistenable."

I really wasn't sure what I was getting into with Schaffer The Darklord. Abbreviated, that's STD. According to his site, he's a "jaded rock and roll ex-patriot." But not an expatriate. Yeah, the nerdy guy in the black suit and tie and glasses at the bar offering to sell for JBot was Schaffer The Darklord. Wielding his mic like a samurai sword, STD (also short for standard--that was my next guess) threw down gangsta rap like you would not believe, the songs puctuated by stand-up comedy. He raps riff on cat owners and crackheads, and "a subject that's divided the nation: hipsters." If you use the word hipster you are a hipster, STD sez. Squares call them popular people. (Uh, who's the one on Myspace?) He goes on to say that we have to reclaim the word "party"--like in the saying "shitty party," a phrase which should not exist. He suggests gathering of douchebags and raps about a gathering of popular douchebags and a crappy band starting, much to his dismay. It's like you're there. I was standing there with my mouth hanging open, this guy is scarily good. He just celebrated his 666th bday (he doesn't look a day over 665) and when he was living in San Francisco everyone was into astrology and reading Rob Brezsny on Wednesdays (guilty). And he embodies every stereotypical aspect of his birthsign. Oh, let me guess. Self-absorbed, so vain he thinks this song is about him. Even though it was about a Scorpio attack maybe he's got some Leo rising or in his house or something. (Admitting it is the 1st step.) He bills himself as a rappist because if he calls himself a rapper, people are going to be disappointed when they get to the gig and see him onstage. "So when you write about me in your blogs tomorrow (damn you, Schaffer), be sure to spell rappist with two Ps or I'll be really embarrassed." He closed with Night Of The Living Christ, which he did at a Christian college--and cleared the room. Those who remained, prayed for him. But they were the ones who booked someone calling himself The Darklord, so equal distribution of blame, he says. True that. Jesus has been underground for 2000 years and if he comes back, it's not going to be pretty. "Yup, it's exactly what you're thinking!" He gets off the stage and I'm standing there, speechless. Another woman there said, "Do you know him?" I told her I've never seen him before in my life and she replies with a matching stunned speechless look. I know! I told her.

Captured! By Robots did a Star Trek show this time, with JBot as Captain Prickhard, Drmbot0110 as Counselor Troi, The Ape Which Hath No Name as Whorf, Son of Ape was Geordi, Gtrbot666 as Number 1 ("You smell like #2," he told Prickhard), and the Automatom as Data. There's nothing unlistenable about them because if you actually spent time listening, you'll realize that this is exactly what black/thrash metal sounds like: This glorious, driving, brutal symphony--but it's played by robots. The songs were all about Star Trek, The Next Generation and the one about alien babies, Don't Shake The Baby (Or the baby will be shaking) is a futuristic club classic, in the same vein as Speed Food Pyramid. I'm so glad I went; this is what I need before spending the day at a baby shower. Data Is Becoming Fully Functional--his "8 inches of logic coming for our pussies chaotic" and Wesley Crusher, Fuck Off. Wil Wheaton is on Myspace, JBot tells us. "Tell him he looks like kd lang because it's funny--but don't tell him it was my idea!" And Sins Of The Father, complete with a Klingon victory song--written out on a cue card so we can all sing along. Gtrbot's final observation was that this is the gayest JBot has ever gone.

Schaffer actually thanked me for standing up front during his set (unlike the lazy and limp-legged who sat down). Unreal. I told him that maybe he had some Leo aspects, but he said no, his house, rising, everything is in Scorpio. Well, he's an honorary Leo, since Leos like being the center of attention. (Admitting it is the 1st step. Maybe this isn't the gayest JBot's ever gone. Their next tour is Captured! By Robots Gets Married. JBot's going to become a certified minister (but dress as a rabbi) and he wants to marry someone at each show. "So bring someone to get married to!"

Out by midnite but the City Hall station was closed off. I went to Chambers for the 2/3 because the E wasn't stopping there. Of course I could've gotten the A to Times Square and then wandered around there. But things went well 'til Jackson Heights, where there was a 45 minute wait for the E. Something must've gone on; the Manhattan-bound was also held there, doors open, for all that time. A guy made a circle with his hand and gestured through it with his cell phone. Why did I even go out? I was more than content to stay home. I can't even remember now just how late I got in. It was as bad as coming back from Rocky's, but it was a good show and I'm glad I went.

And thank you very much, Mr. Roboto, for helping me escape just when I needed to. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I want to thank you, please, thank you.
(We all saw that one coming so I'd be remiss by not adding the lyrics.)

Matinee Idyll

The Lucky Fucks/State Of Disgrace/Clit 45/The Briefs//Continental//11/13/05

See, toldja it was a biggie.

I'm surprised this show wasn't sold out in advance, but then again, not like I'm complaining. A band called The Matches is playing there and that show is already sold out. I'm sure I'm supposed to know who they are, but I don't. This is why I buy adv tix. It's worth the handling in a case like this and with a show like this, I tell myself that I'm doing the right thing and therefore things will go well for me. Wishful thinking, I know, but sometimes you gotta cling to whatever you can.

I stayed in on Saturday in order to rest up for this. It was warm again, in the 60s and sunny, and again I'd be spending the day in a dark club. Not only is the lighting the best only by the stage, the interior of The Continental is painted black. At least I didn't have to bring a jacket with me and try to keep track of it and didn't have to worry about layering up and getting overheated. Well, I didn't need my motorcycle jacket but I probably should've had a sweatshirt on me. I got down there at 2, bought a disposable just to have backup, and sat in front of the club until doors. A kid wearing jeans with Skinhead, (even though he is not a skinhead) Oi!, and Fuck written on them and brand-new Docs knocks on the door and asks if he can go in. "Are you in one of the bands?" "We're the Fucks." Oy! The Soundguy is in an Undertones T. A mother comes up and asks me where the box office is and where the doors are. Later, a woman with a huge fuschia mohawk buys her ticket on the corner and then goes down St. Marks and I wonder why this show is going on at The Continental and not CBGB. At the intersection of St. Marks & 3rd is a truck with Christmas directions, the type that gets strung up between lampposts. So when the show is over, it'll be Christmas. Before we went in, there was a guy inspecting bags. That's never happened at Continental before. Inside, people--more accurately, girls--line the walls and I walk right up, wondering how smart that is.

I was thinking that The Lucky Fucks got their name because they landed on the bill with Clit 45 & The Briefs and that'll look good on their bio. The singer is a kid with green hair and the back of his shirt says 80-85. It's a Bad Religion shirt, not the range of years when he was born because that would make him out of his teens. They're from Staten Island and ask us to start a pit. And not a wussy circle pit. Their friends all start running around, limbs flailing, falling on top of each other constantly. One of their friends comes in and they start pushing each other around until they fall in greeting. See, you're not supposed to be falling down and taking out the equipment stacked up alongside the walls. That's not how to do a pit. That's not what punk is about. I get it, you're all dressed appropriately in studded motorcycle jackets, the correct band Ts, two belts, and Doc Martens. (The boy sporting his first facial hair and the Minor Threat shirt was precious.) Believe me, I get it. But that's not how to do a pit. The point isn't falling in a huddle all the time. The Lucky Fucks' sound was weird, perhaps they were too eager to get onstage and play that they didn't check to see if everything was plugged in properly. There was a weird, twangy echo. The only words I could make out were "fuck" and "emo fucks." They covered a Virus song and Agnostic Front. See, I think the problem with all these high school punk bands--or high school kids in any bands these days--is that their parents encourage them because they don't want to be like their parents who destroyed their dreams of being in a band and they swore they wouldn't do that to their kids. There was a parent there; when the drummer dropped a stick he ran up, picked it up, and tossed it back. It's like parents of kids in bands these days don't give them any feedback in fear of squelching the kids' dreams. Though they did a song "for all the skinheads"--Life's Too Short--which was good, but they are not skinheads. There were a few baldies there, but I wouldn't call them skinheads. "Can I get an Oi?" OY! At their last song one of their friends runs up to the stage and the singer kicks him. Upon learning that he missed, he keeps at it, prompting a "Don't kick people from the stage" from The Soundguy. That's so punkrock, getting yelled at by The Soundguy.

I could tell from State Of Disgrace's logo design that they were HXC. I don't know how they landed on the bill because it wasn't an HXC show--perhaps because I made a suggestion to a band that they contact the booker because at first the listing said "+ 2 locals TBA"--and they never did. I get it. I need to stop being such a busybody. (Though I give Matt credit for at least considering my suggestion of contacting the booker for the Naked Aggression show and thanking me for the tip because they want to play more A/A shows--that one said contact the booker to get on the bill--and then forgetting about it.) In fact, that's my New Year's resolution: Stop giving bands advice. But I digress. I don't know why some of these HXC bands have such dire names like State Of Disgrace because they seemed to be very positive people. And what was refreshing was that it wasn't sludgy, dire music and barking vocals.

I first saw the name Clit 45 on someone's patch at last year's Cracktoberfest and the ink was hot pink and I thought/hoped that Clit 45 are young punk chicks. Nope. They're teenage punk boys. Ha ha. Clit 45, sounds like Colt 45 but it's Clit. Already my hackles were up because this could only go 2 ways. Either they're gonna be really good or really terrible. I'm not really up on 21st century punk bands (like Virus and the Unseen--did see Unseen w/DKM last year and I liked the music but not the vocals) but Clit 45 falls under the 21st century (street) punk band umbrella. And the bands which, I may be wrong, seem more cued in to the visual aspects of punk. As I've said before, you can tell a lot about a band by their crowd and the crowd up front for Clit 45 were all young guys, the ones who were clambering all over each other to The Lucky Fucks. I stood on the stairs to the stage, all excited because I was up front for Clit 45, but then again it doesn't matter because I'm probably not going to see these pix for another year and nobody really reads this site anyway. Still, watching them, I thought that this is probably as close as you'll get to seeing Sid Vicious. I mean, there are differences, but that's what I thought. Clit singer Dave was in a shirt with a swastika on it that said Destroy and of course he's so pretty oh so pretty vacant, but I just felt that everything was a little too calculated. Nothing about them live really grabbed me and held me for very long. I stood on the step and looked down at all the guys clambering on top of each other and the stage, I told myself that just because a show is all-ages, they mean younger people--not older. I couldn't help but laugh a little. I was like, OK, I get it, now what? What else ya got?

When the front of the stage opened up I planted myself there.Not surprisingly, there was a bit of a crowd change when The Briefs took the stage. I had a feeling that was going to happen. I almost feel like saying that I don't know how Clit 45 got on the bill but I know it's because both are on BYO Records and Clit 45 is an up-and-comer who could use the exposure. Stylistically, they're different. I was all excited and had been for days, ready to get swept up into a pogo as I have in the past. But my dam self was no match for the flood of bodies and back to the step I returned as The Briefs blitzed through anthems Destroy The USA ("Blow us up!"), Silver Bullet ("That old time rock 'n' roll is something we can do without! Kill Bob Seeger right now!"), and the faster-paced newies Move Too Slow and Zombie ("She wants to be a zombie! Oi!Oi!Oi!"). Dead In The Suburbs was climactic. It was just an amazing moment--the crowd and the band becoming one and a good time had by all, and all that. I felt like I was witnessing an historical event, was a part of something bigger than myself. Like a definitive show for a band and would be great footage for a DVD, stuff like that--either you were there or you weren't. And I was there, right up front and witnessing it all. And even though I wasn't there the 1st time around, I'm pretty sure it was 1977 all over again. They only encored with Poor & Weird though they almost didn't even do any encore. "It's Sunday," Dan said. "Jesus doesn't want us to do another one." "But we do!" I yelled.

What I'd really feared was Continenthell--what happened during The Adicts show. Or getting caught in the crush like when I saw the River City Rebels there the first time around. And The Adicts. When I got in and they said No reentries, I must admit I felt a bit of a panic. On the way out I saw Ron and Tony, and they said they were worried about me up front when the crowd started, but felt much better when they saw that I'd moved. Yeah, I felt better, too.

So The Germs are playing Continental next month. 2 shows. Y'know, you really gotta hand it to CBGB for keeping it real by giving the scrappy, no-name upstarts a chance to get onstage. And the day coming up when the Gallery will be closed for a private event but open for merch, as the ad promises. Special guests are promised for The Germs show. Yeah, they're gonna get Darby to rise from the dead? Not going to The Germs. $25, not counting S/H. More money than "The Dead Kennedys" @ Irving Plaza, which is $18.50 and the venue has a physical box office, so there's no need to go thru Ticketblaster. And that one will be Continenthell. Besides, reuniting your punk band 25 years later is so cliché. Yama yama yama yama yama yama, boredom boredom boring boredom. (As Poly Styrene once yelped.)

Ghoulies R Go!!!

Dollyrots/Unlovables/Helper Monkeys/Groovie Ghoulies//Tap Bar//11/11/05

Since seeing the Ghoulies open for the Muffs @ Tramps in 1997, I've only missed 2 shows. And since I saw the Ghoulies open for the Muffs, the Ghoulies have been returning the favor by introducing me to my new favorite bands, like the Donnas, who opened for them @ Coney Island High in '98--and when the Donnas and Ghoulies played Tramps in '99 for the Digital Club Network festival I looked at my ticket and thought: I hope this Mooney Suzuki is good because I'm seeing them tomorrow w/the Donnas @ Maxwell's--and Epoxies, who opened for them @ CBGB in 2003. First time I missed 'em was when they played Maxwell's and I'd already gotten a ticket for the Donnas at the Bowery Ballroom before I knew about the Maxwell's show. (Gahd, whatta has-been namedropper.) Most recently was when they played the same day as The Spunk Lads' grand finale on 7/9. Which sucked all around because 1st the Lads were supposed to call it a day in the beginning of May, and then I heard that the Ghoulies were supposed to play the 8th. At first I was relieved because the Ghoulies' van broke down in Philly, they got there late, and only played 20 mins. So when I heard that I was like Phew, I didn't miss anything and then I thought, It's the Ghoulies and whatever happens, happens and I missed them.

Modrocket played that night @ Arlene's & I was set to go cuz they're on @ 7 but the Ghoulies show starts @ 11 and it's all that running around--do I bring my bag to work? Run back after Modrocket and drop it off and pick up the wings (it's a H-ween party--hell, every Ghoulies show is a H'ween party), run back before Modrocket and back in?--and it's Hell Week. But Modrocket fell out of the equation due to Hell Week becoming Bloody Hell Week. Yup, nothing like standing thru a ton of shows and starting your period. I was feeling sick Friday morning and my head was killing me, like a cassette tape stuck on FF and that screeching sound it makes and you're afraid the tape deck is gonna eat it? Yup, that was my head. Which is how it feels from time to time but it was like that all day Friday.

As I wait for the 1, I notice all the trackwork signs on the 2/3 platform: No Bronxbound 2 trains at this platform. Well, DUH. This is the Downtown track, to lower Manhattan and Brooklyn. There are NEVER any Bronxbound trains at this platform. Of course, I figure that such signs mean that there are signs on the Uptown side saying that the Uptown trains are stopping on the Downtown platform due to this weekend's "every train but the M is facing rerouting." I get down to Franklin and the same "No Uptown 2 here" signs are posted in that station. See, those posters and signs for Propostion 2 that was on the ballot made it sound positive: Vote yes for fewer delays and a seat on the subway--and the $ for all the improvements will come out of your pockets. The 2nd Ave. subway? They can't even create a coherent reroute poster for all the lines already in existence. What, they want to create another line that'll always be rerouted?

The Dollyrots were nice but it was really hard to hear all the lyrics. What's with all these bass players who insist on cranking everything through their monitor, and really loud at that? The lyrics ended up sounding muffled. Or maybe it's because I'm a little hard of hearing (the ringing in my ears after all those shows at Coney Island High and Tramps used to keep me up at nite and I was relieved when that stopped because it meant that I was finally adjusting. Then I found it that meant I was going deaf) and wear earplugs. I'm sure describing them as pop-punk is redundant and repetitive considering the show we're talking about here.

During the set change I was talking to Rob and I was crowded out for the Unlovables. Not like I minded so much, but I was staking out a spot. And crowding hurts my back, and my left arm socket was hurting from wearing the bat wings. So I had to step back, but I did so knowing that people would clear out again for Helper Monkeys and I could return to my post. Which is exactly what happened.


I knew there was someone from the Ghoulies in the Helper Monkeys, harder-hitting than the usual pop, either that or it was someone from the Helper Monkeys in the Ghoulies. I was staring at them for the longest trying to unravel the mystery when I realized that it was Jaz, their singer, who used to drum for the Ghoulies. It's not senility; how many drummers--and years--ago was Jaz? Back in the Coney era.

When Rob came back for the Ghoulies and stood to my right, I was in front of Roach. The problem is this--and probably would only make sense to the poor souls who see bands/play the Tap Bar. The layout used to be a narrow strip with the stage straight ahead. To the right of that room was the Alterknit Theatre. Now the Alterknit is gone, but they moved the stage over to the right, cattycorner to the room. Of course it probably would've made sense to expand the stage horizontally across the room but this is the Knitting Factory, where the doors to the Tap Bar are marked Push and No Push, inside it says No, not this one. So the stage forms a right triangle with the drummer in the right angle. Obviously, Pythagorus was not a punk rocker. Since the Groovie Ghoulies are a trio Kepi was all the way down at the narrow angle of the triangle, in the dark and far away from me. So it was hard for me to connect. Not to mention that they couldn't find a drummer that would last beyond each tour and it was around Travels With My Amp and their split from Lookout! Records that I stopped getting every album. It's just that I'm broke. I mean, I love the Ghoulies to pieces, but it feels like something changed in their whole gestalt and it's hard getting back into them. Or maybe I changed. Still, I wrecked my back and screamed along to classics like The Beast With 5 Hands, Island Of Pogo Pogo, Vampire Girl, Hair Of Gold and Skin Of Blue, Graveyard Girlfriend and 'Til Death Do We Party.
With all the rerouting going on, I decided to ask before schlepping down the corridor to 8th Ave. in Times Square. So I ask a maintanence worker in the orange vest if the E was being rerouted in these parts. He said he didn't know. Lovely.

Snacktronic! (Everything Oscillates)

The Negatones @ Sin-e, 11/10/05

Local Moog (not mook) rock with big riffs, big drums, anthemic time shifts, frantic shouting, short songs, placid parts, jazzy spans, and more. Cuts about being the Godfather (see: Spoonie Gee) and insomnia jump right out of their new CD.
(Chuck Eddy, music editor)

When The Negatones played Pianos last month and this review ran, I changed my mind about going. I was seriously considering it because how could a band called The Negatones be bad but the review sounds kinda basic, and ergo the band could be as well. Or I'm (still) not used to Eddy's style. Seriously, he must put more effort into writing like he phones it in than he does going to shows and actually listening to the full CD. And The Negatones have an EP called Snacktronica. What a perfect name for an EP. Because TONY just did a spread on them, I knew I had to get there early, since I wasn't going to spend the extra $ on advanced tix and there could be a crowd.

As I waited for the doors of the F to open, the crowd inside the car gathered behind the doors like they were waiting for Wal-Mart to open on Black Friday. I stepped aside so they can get out and a gray-haired man tipped me off about the mass exodus: "Do NOT go in there. It stinks in there!" I got to Sin-e @ 7:30, expecting doors to be soon for the 8:00 band, which was TBA. Only I find the calendar on the back door started with The Negatones. Maybe they didn't get an 8pm band and I'm stuck here in the cold until 9. I suck at being a Lefty. So I stood there, reading the lampost that was mummified by flyers and trying to concentrate on reading the L and not thinking about how cold it's gotten--and I don't have a hat, gloves, and my leather jacket doesn't cover my ass. I'm standing outside the club like a freezing moron, or somebody whose name isn't on the list at a club with velvet ropes. A guy started unloading his car across the street, stacking gear in between me and the door. He props the door open with an amp. Can't hold the door; now I truly have nothing to do. He keeps uloading and stacking, so I tell him that I'd help but I have a bad back.
"No, this is the price you pay for being onstage."
"Well, this is the price you pay for being me: Standing around bored outside the club when it's freezing."
"See you inside."
"See ya."
I stand under the scaffolding, thinking that'll block the wind. Inside, a woman and her band is soundchecking. It sounds interesting. I walk down to Sin-e Bar but even though I've never been in there before and have to pee, I'm afraid I'll get stuck spending $5 for a cup of soda. It used to be a bodega, like Arlene's. Either that, or they just like Arlene's grocery sign and got one made for them. It's not that I'm cheap, it's that I'm poor. Back on Attorney St. I look up at the building across the street, next to Ludlow Garage. Two windows are lit up; one has a shelf of upside down wineglasses in the window, so I guess it's a kitchen. Two floors above that has decorative bottles in the windows. Two windows to the left of the wineglass window is a person on the computer. They can live on the Lower East. I wonder if they're able to pay their rent or is it just me who has fucked up so badly. Now I'm bummed out. So I head around the corner and pick up some cookies and stand in the vestibule even though no one's there. A sign says those there to see The Negatones get a free CD. Yay. But I figure I'm going to get caught and stand outside. A woman comes out and I ask her when doors are going to open, tell her that I thought there was going to be an 8:00 band and all that. "7:30, and it should be that by now. What time is it?"
"Ten after 8."
"I mean 8:30. It's a 9:00 show." But she lets me inside anyway.
I sit down and read while she gets behind the bar and probably thinks I'm cheap for not getting a drink while a band rehearses.
By 10 to 9 nobody's there but 4 other people who are their friends and I feel bad. So I pay the cover and get the CD. 10 minutes later hordes of people start coming in. They seem to know everyone there.

I don't know why they call themselves The Negatones because they made me happy. I literally had a grin on my face watching them. Maybe "The Happytones" or "The Happyfacetones" is lame. See, Eddy's writeup had me thinking they were another LES/W'burg hipster band using keybs cuz everyone does so therefore it's expected and we're gonna do that sound in order to get booked. Also what was so refreshing was that they're not assholes. Y'know how when you see some of those LES bands they have a massive chip on their shoulder like the whole music world owes them something (mainly free drinx, drugs, chix, and money) simply because they get onstage? Like there's this whole other presence onstage? Maybe that was why I was smiling, because The Negatones are not like that at all. Their songs are peppy and sparkling, with guitarist/bassist bros Jay and Justin rocking out and having fun, jumping around. When they did Everything Oscillates that's what I thought, that good ole playing/making music for the sake of playing music is back. "Everything oscillates my friend everything oscillates if your enemies are winning the race just remember that we all finish up in the same place soon enough they'll be doing time under the ground assisting little flowers for the next round because everything oscillates my friend everything oscillates." See what I mean about them having the wrong name?
(Heather, music writer)

After I signed the mailing list, I read their feature in the copy of TONY that was on top of their stuff. And I bought Snacktronica cuz Everything Oscillates is on it. The EPs were $4 and luckily I had a five on me. I was just going to write Snacktronica on it and leave it under their clipboard, but Jay came over while I was still reading the article. (They mention Brainiac as an influence; have remixed & produced tacks for Blues Explosion, Fiery Furnaces, and Chuck D.) I told him that I didn't know why they're called The Negatones cause they made me so happy and he said it was kind of a joke because they're actually positive. "We want to have a side project called The Positrons but we can barely do this."
"I hear ya." The band with the girl that I heard soundchecking earlier, Beat The Devil, doesn't sound as interesting live as it did in the soundchecking raw. And I saw The Giraffes back in Coney Island High and didn't care for them then, besides they're on at 11. I turn to leave and Sammy James, Jr. is there. Either that, or a dead ringer--he's in a furry hat and standing in the dark with a group of people. I go to the bathroom just so I can pass by him and be sure (even though we shared a look of recognition) before I make an ass of myself. But I'm not one of those people who go up to people at shows so I don't.

As I walk down Attorney, a rat scurries toward the vacant lot. I wonder what it means if a rat crosses your path, like on the subway platform or like this. Black cats crossing your path is bad luck, but most city rats are brown. And pigeons shitting on you is supposedly good luck. As is stepping in dog doo. I start down E. Houston when I hear my name. It's Whatshisface, Spunk Demonios's bass player, Ian, standing outside Parkside. How is it that all these people who don't know me, know me? He introduces himself before asking me if I had any band names for them. "I had a few but they got shot down."
"Everyone's got shot down. That's why we don't have a band name."
"Or a drummer."
"Scott's going to be playing drums for a while. I think he likes being the drummer.
Well, what the hell do I know about anything?
He tells me the band he's playing with, The Ks, are about to go on. What the hell is it with everyone being in all these bands? But it's free and kinda early and I've never been to Parkside, so I go in to hear a few songs. Later, he asks me if I heard about what happened to Roger. I say no and get the feeling that he's not gonna say He won the lottery! He tells me about Roger's appendicitis and between the news and it being late and watching the Ks, I blank on the name of the hospital other than it begins with an M and where it is in Park Slope. Well, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.
I duck out after a few songs and the F comes pretty quick. So I can't tell what rats crossing your path is a harbinger of.

Election Special!

Green Day--er, Night

Samoa/Scott MX Turner//Rocky Sullivan's//10/23/05

It's good to know that when your team is fucking up badly, there's still hope. I don't mean this in any baseball kinda way, (yeah, I started writing this around the end of October but was busy with shows and H'ween and all that) though I am a Mets fan (Mr. Met was voted Best Met in the Press's Best Of issue; I'm sure even Yanx fans might think I'm talking about their team as well) I mean it in a political way, as evidenced by the fact that it seems that Tweedledumber and Tweedledumbest are the top 2 choices for office--any office--lately. So last nite was a big ole triple threat: a fundraiser organized for Ms. Gloria Mattera who's running for Brooklyn Borough Prez as the Green Party candidate, organized by Ms. Rebecca White (who once ran for senate!) held at Rocky Sullivan's, and Scott MX Turner played.

I planned to make a pitstop @ the Knit since I was told the box office is only open after 4 which is such a pain in the ass since I work right on the 1 line and could easily get there on my lunch break, not to mention that I've done that many times before. Now that I know when the shower isn't, I need to pick up the tix that have been onsale for the longest. At Jackson Heights a rat was chasing another all over the express tracks and that's something that I've never seen before, which led me to think that we all know what's coming next. Subway rats doing it! Huh huh huh. The whole problem was that the uptown F wasn't stopping at 14th. So the plan was to hit the Knit, take the 1 to 14th, get pizza on 7th Ave, and walk over to Union Square for the 6 so I could be there at 6 when the bands start. Walking through the transfer on the L platform, I pass a woman playing some weird instrument. It looks like she's got a guitar on her lap but she's turning a crank on the bottom and the sounds coming out of it are incredible--like you can hear every coil of a guitar string--but I have to run and can't linger. On the stairway down to the 1 the woman in front of me comes to a screeching halt and I almost bump into her. She takes out her cellphone and answers it right there. Moron. I went around her and she's still on the stairs talking, blocking other people. The 1 takes a while to come and it's 5:45. The benefit is supposed to start at 6. So I give up on the Knit and try to find pizza. I get out at 7th Ave. to find the pizza place that used to be right there has closed down. So I walk down 14th looking for another one and settle on the one near Irving Plaza and take the 6 up to Rocky's.

Only to get there a little after 6 and finding that the 1st act canceled (With good reason, not that they were being total flakes) and everything is behind schedule. Standard benefit rules apply. So to kill time and make myself useful I end up highlighting things on donation forms, manning the fort while Rebecca went to pee, and loading up the jukebox and not repeating any artist in my 18 picks. The pressure was tremendous. But it's business as usual, Rebecca says. Lefties are always late. Guess I'd make a terrible Lefty.

Rebecca loaned me her digital camera and I'm always worried when people give me their cameras because it takes so long for the shutter to go off and I can't tell how things are gonna come out by looking at that little screen and I don't want to screw the pix up for people who need the pix and there's all that pressure, not to mention that I don't know how to use a digital camera at all. I hope I didn't do too badly--I mean, I don't think I did because Samoa and Scott were performing solo. But you never know with me. Samoa, of Lonely Samoans, rocked a top hat and acoustic guitar with songs about a corporate job he once had and wearing khakis and going to Starbucks. And that he really wanted to vote but had to become a citizen 1st and after he did, he got a letter of welcome from George Bush.

Scott started his set with The Devil In The Water and though I usually prefer the simpler the better when it comes to live music, I liked the version he did backed by all the Freddy's Folk slightly more because that version really made the song more 3-dimensional. From there he was off and running. It made me think 2 things: That I wish he would give his solo material more of a chance to be aired and heard. And that the last time I saw Dan Bern play, it was pretty freakin painful. Maybe it was because Scott was playing his black guitar, maybe it was because he was playing it @ Rocky Sullivan's, but his intensity was off the charts on Snipers in Derelict Houses classics such as Slán Abhaile and the bodhrán-rockin' 1 Para. I wanted to request The Town That I Loved So Well but I figured that Scott knew what he was doing and I didn't want to interfere. Though he forgot to say that if anybody's free on a Friday or Saturday nite to come to Rocky's to see Seanchaí & the Unity Squad. But that's ok cuz he had a lot of things to remember to say, like reminding us to check out the literature table--and his lyrics.
***
So Fox 5 is promising all-day coverage of the mayoral "marathon." Watch your vote count! Fuck that. House is gonna be on. (Yeah, big surprise I'm a fan of the sarcastic curmudgeon on Fox.) Why don't they just hold off 'til they tally everything up and then tell us (as if we don't already know). After 10:00, of course.

And PS: Y'know how I always put song titles in quotes cuz I thought that's how they're supposed to be? I was reading this thing in preview mode and the titles look ridiculous that way. Maybe it's because of the dumb quotes, which I've been meaning to fix. So, henceforth: Album titles in itals; song titles, as is. Hey, I ain't doublechecking with the Chicago Manual Of Style. That book makes no sense. I'd rather be wrong than check that book. I can only go so far, peeps.

This Show Was Brought To You By The Letter P

The Emeralds/Portugal Japan/Phenomenauts/Peelander-Z//Knitting Factory//11/5/05

Strange. A year to the day after I went to the Knit Main Space only because The Groovie Ghoulies were opening for El Vez I was back there, this time for a post- Halloween show. I figured that since this is the Knitting Factory and they had shows going on all day on all the floors, I could show up a little after 10 because we'd all be relegated to the Main Bar and made to wait until they open the magic doors. (I wonder if "Open Sesame" would help.) As I walked down W. Broadway, I worried. What if I got this all wrong? What if people have been lining up since 8 or 9? Then what? There's $10 I'll never see again. For some reason, even from a couple'a blox away, I could see the crowd gathered there. And I was right.

There's a mob scene in front of the place and people on line. When I got there I asked if that was the line for the late show and they said no. So I went inside to loiter. What the Knitting Factory loves, I know. I waited in the doorway of the Main Space Bar, getting nervous as lines of people went in and downstairs. The chalkboard listed yet another band--The Emeralds. Well, maybe the P is silent. Peelander on at 1:35 AM. Yay. Adults, the type without teens in tow, mill about as a woman with a trio of teens--2 in cat ears--come in to buy tix. Musicians and fans are coming in and out of the bar. The woman with the teens stands opposite the box office window. The guy doing the door keeps announcing that we have to keep the area clear for the musicians loading in and out. I stand in the doorway to the bar. Every time people come in, I get in line. And get sent back into the bar. I worry that the doors at the back of the bar are going to open up first. 5 mins, still soundchecking. I worry that I may be at the front of a teenage stampede.

Still, even though it's The Phenomenauts and Peelander, I shouldn't have gone because this is the Knit and they're stupid with these things. Maybe they shouldn't've had all these earlier shows going on if they can't handle the traffic. More people come inside and I come out and get in line. Sent back to the bar. So I stand in the hallway in front of the bar, looking at the teens, standing closer to the venue doors. Maybe my little antennae picked up on it, maybe it's just that I've been doing this longer, but when the guy in charge of opening the doors opened his mouth I shot over with my ticket in my hands as he said "If you've got a ticket for Phenomenauts...." I mean, think about it. The word "if" takes a lot of lung power and sounds longer, especially when you're yelling it. I'm the 1st one to give him my ticket and he says, "Thank you, baby. You're a good girl." I tell him that I try to be. Inside, the teens take out a digital camera and take pix of each other, the bar, and Peelander's drums. Then they take out a teeny little pad and start writing love notes to Peelander-Z, leaving them on the stage.

Kung-fu theme music plays as the first Emerald comes onstage, dressed in a sushi chef getup, bowing and posing. The other 2 come out, all in costume, and I'm like Not another gag band but they shed their jackets to reveal leather pants and near-identical shirts. Explosive is the only word I can think of to describe them. Blazing rock 'n' roll from Yokahama, Japan, that sounds bigger than the venue, if that makes any sense. Like, I can see/hear them in a huge concert hall. The r'n'r is a refreshing change over all the Japanese punk I've seen. Bonus points to the bass player who broke his wrist and had it bandaged up, along with his thumb. They each took turns introducing themselves, the bass player saying that even though he broke his wrist, they stayed on the tour because we want to hear Japanese rock 'n' roll.

Actually, it's The Portugal Japan, as their T-shirts say. Another trio from Japan, all female, but they play garage rock reminiscent of early Donnas. I guess they'd get Shonen Knife comparisons for being 3 Japanese chicks but better lyircal style. The guitar player had a Nikki Corvette shirt on and when she was checking, she had on pink, diamond-studded cat-eye glasses. The girls leave them notes that say Asian Hotties.

I don't know why the Phenomenauts don't headline more often. Rockabilly from outer space via California, complete with upright bass, cannon spraying foam, and a leaf blower with toilet paper on the end. I think they're bigger on the left coast then they are here, which should change. A girl with a studded face comes out of nowhere and stands behind me, in my space. She fumbles with her shoe, grabbing onto me to steady herself. She talks to her friends about how she wants drugs. All through the set she's trying to wedge herself next to me and I have to keep trying to keep her out. I swear, it was like I was a pinball flipper. If she wanted to stand up front that badly, she should've gotten there early. And she kept touching me, putting her hand onstage like that was giving her some footing. Though it was tempting I'm sure hitting her would still be wrong, even in this situation.

Peelander-Z checked and set up in their regular clothes for the longest and I was worried for a sec that they ditched the garb, but no, they were the usual manga maniacs. Peelander Yellow said that he'll show us his small asshole and then we'll show us our small assholes and then we'll be friends. When Pink broke out the tambourines and pots for the audience to play, there was pretty much a stampede. I already figured there was no way I was climbing on that stage, but then people who were clambering down felt that they were allowed to clutch my bad shoulder to steady themselves since I was right in front and they were all getting offstage to my left. It was the wildest Peelander show ever with mad shoving and pushing. Now my back is killing me from everyone piling up on top of me. The girl from Portugal Japan with the pink glasses played with them and did a stage dive. She's carried around and almost lands on my head but the crowd put her down. When they ended with their theme song, The Emeralds were back in their getups and they all danced around and it was great. I love Peelander because every time I see them they have new pins.

I took the 1 (or whatever was stopping @ Franklin at 2:30 AM) up to Times Square and even though I knew the E was running over the R line, I found myself wandering over to 8th Ave. These things always happen when I'm wandering around subway stations in the early AM after a show. I didn't get very far before I remembered and headed for the R. There were no signs that the E was stopping there (Wait, read that last bit again. Ha ha.) and I thought maybe the work was finished, even though the signs said Nov. 5-7. I didn't have the energy to walk all the way back but I didn't want to stand there for 45 mins to find out I'm in the wrong spot. So I asked a woman if she knew if the E was stopping there. She asks me where I'm trying to go and then she suggests taking the W and walking. Ya know, if the W were even an option for me we would not be having this conversation. So I asked another woman who said that she thinks the E is stopping there. "I hope." An MTA worker appears and someone is already asking him something, and all I hear is E and go downtown and back one stop to 34th for the F. What? A guy mutters that if they're making changes to the changes then they should inform us of said changes. But before I can find out what the worker is referring to something comes down the pike and lo & behold it's the E.

Coverless Continental Crapshoot!

The Stags @ Continental, 11/3/05

There were 10 bands listed, 2 I wanted to check out, and there was no cover. Not only do I credit The Spunk Lads for making me take The Continental listings more seriously (Continental does book acts with names that scare you off right off the bat and since they're sometimes on the no cover night, I never used to go there), I credit the Let's Have Some God Damn Fun compilation from Rapid Pulse Records featuring 16 great or potentially great, mostly NYC bands (WW9 is on there and they encouraged us to steal the comp at the show) for including The Stags. I say "potentially great" because I haven't had the chance to listen to the CD yet though I have seen 6 of those bands (DotDash, post-garage rock, NYC punk-n-haircut stuff) and of the 16 bands involved, 8 start with the word "The" (9 if you count Andy G And The Roller Kings, which has "the" in the name and I have seen 'em and know they're good) and all have great, snappy, easy-to-remember names. It don't take much to make me happy, peoples.

Funnily enough, the WW9 blurb starts off: "I had seen the name WW9 around town a bit, but never paid any attention. To be honest, I assumed that with a name like that, they must suck." Their blurb on The Stags says that they're 3 chix backing up a male lead singer and describes them as "a pub rockin' quartet" who "pump out the mid-tempo rockers in fine style." Well, that's why this is known as a Coverless Continental Crapshoot--I had no idea what I was getting into but it doesn't really matter since it's free but I had a feeling that if they were on this comp they have to be good and besides, I can usually tell these things. Some people have a knack for guessing which horsies are gonna win the race, I can guess which bands are gonna rock. Of course the other band I was interested in fell off the bill and 2 bands after The Stags was a band called Saloonatics which is always worth sticking around for on a free not to mention no cover nite if you're already there.

When I get to Continental, the guy at the door asks me if I'm there for the benefit. "What benefit?!" I say as confusion takes over. I'm there for The Stags. I don't have a lot of money on me and the ad did say No Cover. Now what? As he checks my ID he points to the sign on the door that says there's a Red Cross donation box at the bar. Now, how is this a benefit if there's no cover? I don't have a lot of money in general and if there was a $5 or $10 cover, fine. Was the benefit even advertized or promoted? Donate what you can but no cover. Why even bother putting out the donation box? I was kinda tempted not to just because, but I'm not going to take my feelings out on the Red Cross. Not like my paltry contribution (cuz that's all I have) would've made a difference, but still. That would be wrong.

As the ladies in The Stags checked mics, their singer mocked their female voices and repeated others' warnings that he shouldn't have gotten involved with this. His mic was cutting out during the 1st song, "Rock Hotel," and he asked the sound guy if he was screwing with their sound on purpose. Pub rockers? Mid-tempo rockers? Hell no. Imagine turnning the tables on Ramones with a female band fronted by a very sarcastic lead singer. The sound guy was playing "Catholic Boy" as they set up and their singer does have a bit of Jim Carroll's delivery. They're not so much "pub rockers" as they are club rockers. I was ready to pogo and picturing the place filled up and singing along. I have to book a show. All NYC bands. I know who I'd book. Oh my God.

The problem, of course, is that the set was way too short. I asked about CDs, they said they didn't have, didn't have a mailing list. Their singer, Jim, introduced himself and gave me paper to write down my email address, because they usually don't have a mailing list. Wow, a band more bass-ackwards than The Spunk Lads. "And don't give me a fake one, I know how you women are."

"Now, why would I give you a fake email address? I want to keep finding out about your shows."
Jim tells me that he does all the macho stuff, like carrying the ladies' gear. "No," he clarifies, "they're all strong."
"Well, they'd have to be in order to put up with you."
"Oh, that's good. I'm gonna tell them you said that."
We trade barbs for a bit and I feel like I'm playing Ping-Pong with someone who has ADHD. "So, do you think the money's going to the Katrina victims or the Florida victims?"
"The Red Cross, and they're gonna distribute the money," is my guess, but, "I can see Bush giving all the money to Florida and that's the next scandal." Which is why they're making such a big deal over the bird flu, to distract us from his latest failings. He should've asked for 7.1B for Katrina victims, not the bird flu which may or may not happen in 5 years.
"Who are you here for?"
"Uh, you guys."
Jim tells me he has drink tickets that he has to give the ladies. "You have no idea what I go through. They all menstruate at the same time."
"Then you should give them the drink tix to lessen the effects of PMS. Or better yet, keep 'em so you can deal with it."
"Yeah, this way it won't hurt when they punch me."
I ask him if their site is TheStagsDotCom, then think that if that's not it, they've probably got band, NYC, or rock in the name.
Jim defers to the women. "We don't have a website." Wow, The Lads had them beat. Well, at least I know they won't be asking for pix. And then he turns to leave, leaving me thinking, It was nice to meet you, too, Jim. Next gig, then.

While we were talking, the next band has set up. Jesus Speed. Tempting as it is to think they're one'a those dragstrip, gearhead garage bands, the singer has a shirt that says Pro Christo and something else I can't make out. Latin? Is this actually a Chrisitan rock band? The guitar player has shaggy hair and a long beard like that guy who was standing across from the McDonald's near my office, holding a big sign that said It's not about all this, it's about Jesus. It's not about all what? Anyway, the lead singer has a bunch'a tattoos and someone heckles that they're Blink 182. I think it was one of their friends ragging on them. The singer has a bizarre voice when checking and he cannot sing for shit. Maybe he had a sore throat or a sinus problem, but yeesh. Then some blonde stick in tight jeans and brown, knee-high leather boots with the pantlegs tucked in runs up front, cheering and waving her arms. You can tell a lot about a band by the crowd they attract. I decide to leave because I'm not standing around through this, and Jones Crusher, just to catch Saloonatics. This is what makes it a crapshoot. That's like spending an extra hour 45 at the place, on top of a 45 minute ride home. Good thing I left when I did, because I had a 20 minute wait for the R.

Holloween 2!

Death Mold @ Sin-e, Peter & the Pansexuals/Dougie Needles & the Public Offenders @ Trash//10/31/05

So after Team Spider @ City Hall, I needed to get over to the F line to get to Sin-e. I took the R up to Union Square and intended to get pizza and take the L over to the F. Union Square on Halloween just had this surreal vibe, like New Year's Eve but with costumes. Curbside dining packed thanks to the good weather. Is it just me or are pizza places vanishing in this city? All I need is a slice of pizza and a soda. Not a fancy pizza restaurant, not a gourmet deli, just need a quick substantial bite on the run that's more than a bagel and isn't fast food. I consider going to the pizza place by Irving Plaza but that place is like $3 and change. Probably cuz it's on NYU row. And besides, that's going further away than I need to be. So what the hell, why don't I head to E. Houston and hit Ray's, at least I'll be down there already. So I was done by 7:10 and had time to kill so I spent the 45 cents a minute cuz the design station computers were the only ones empty and started my Team Spider post.

Now, Death Mold sounded interesting--the writeup, at least, and the next band, Team Robespierre, did as well. Team Robespierre are from the year 3092 and I wonder if music in 3092 is anything like the music in 3172. But I have to get to Brooklyn because Dougie Needles is going on @ 10, and even though I know it's not going to start exactly at 10, I don't want to stress myself out needlessly and who knows what the subways are gonna be like? I get to Sin-e at 8 and they're still soundchecking. I look in the window to see who's playing that speed metal stuff and I see a man onstage in a gas mask and a skeleton. I walk down the block ready to leave because I don't know which band this is but I don't want to see them. I think this is an entire package show, not individual bookings. I knew the headliner, Kylesa, and supporting act Torche are death metal. Death Mold's blurb was something like they played a mix of nu-metal and Williamsburg hipster stuff. Something told me that they were being sarcastic, but....their bass player used to be in a band called Oi Polloi so I thought this was going to involve punk. I can't get away fast enough and the doors open and I'm standing right there so I feel I have to go in and besides, who knows which band that was soundchecking? It could've been any of them on the bill. It was Death Mold. Not my thing but I was digging the skeleton on bass. He just rokked. I loved watching his little skeleton hands dancing up the neck of his bass. The lead singer was getting totally red in the face from screaming and I couldn't make out one lyric. I was tempted to stay for Team Robespierre to balance out the cover charge but I was afraid they'd be the exact same sound so I left for Trash. What the hell am I thinking, I ask myself as I head over to Williamsburg. It's a Monday for fuck's sake, I shoulda just cut my losses and stayed for Team Robespierre and called it a night. I'm heading for financial ruin as it is, do I have to make it physical as well? Too late, I'm already there.

Nothing says "Happy Halloween!" like a heavy metal band in costume. What I can't figure out is if Peter and the Pansexuals are always in costume, since this is my first time seeing them. There's a woodland nymph on guitar and one on drums. The bass player didn't really dress up. The other guitar player is some sort of zombie in a dress, wig, and massive fake boobs. The lead singer's getup--don't know if he's Peter or the Pansexual--is the god Pan in gold platform boots, which are painted to look like hooves. Shirtless, makeup, furry pants cut off at the knees, tail, and he had one horn when he took the stage and that one fell off during the set. Well, at least it wasn't some sort of Peter Pan theme. He did tell us that we all looked fabulous and took off the black leather codpiece to reveal a huge fake penis. "You're gonna be so disappointed if you see the real thing...it's not a little dick; it's a big clit."

The place cleared out after their set and Dougie Needles & the Public Offenders pretty much played to an empty room. They did 2 covers, "Carbona Not Glue" and "Waitin For My Man." "We only cover songs by New York bands because we're from New York" and when they did "I'm A Liar" Peter's bass player said, "These guys are fucking great. I can't believe nobody's listening to them." And they closed with "New York Baby," inviting those of us who've seen them before onstage to sing the chorus. When we hesitated, Dougie said, "C'mon! It's Halloween!" And, well, I have seen them before. I kinda wish that I didn't put my bag on under the batwings so I could've taken it off easily before I got onstage. Sharing a mic with Enzo, the bass player, while wearing wings was a bit odd because they interfered with my peripheral vision and I was afraid Enzo was going to bump into me and I into him. The guy in the Hustler shirt who was videotaping them thanked me and introduced himself as their manager. He promises me that he's going to work on updating their site. Screw that, work on getting them gigs.

I love families that get into Halloween as opposed to parents who take their kids around. At Bedford when I was going to Trash there was a couple with a little baby in a stroller, all dressed as devils in aprons for a Devil's Diner theme. At 14th & 8, I waited for the E along with The Invisible Man and a middle-age woman in a flower power costume, the guy as a rocker in a wig and shirt unbuttoned to his waist. The E is packed with the last few revelers in the city and I start sneezing like crazy. The woman across from me looks away and I worry that I have snarf dripping. I keep sneezing. Or maybe she's had a total stranger blow chunks across the train, spraying her. Fuck you, Halloween. On the E is a woman in the ugliest witch getup ever--warty nose, fake buck teeth, unibrow, green makeup. Bonus points for making yourself look that ugly on purpose. Got in at 1. Well, even if I'd come home after Team Robespierre I would've spent all that time writing until 1 in the morning, anyway.

Holloween!

Team Spider//Cracktoberfest @ City Hall Park//10/31/05

Hey, I'm writing this @ a Kinko's in between shows. On E. Houston. What a hipster poseur, right?

Well, first off I went to see Seanchai on Saturday cuz I have so much stuff coming up all thru November that it feels like I'm about to go on tour and I wanted to check in with home base before I go, so even though it's probably not a very rock n roll thing to do on Halloween Saturday I went in my costume. (Blondie's "Maria" is on right now.) Was kinda zonked all day Sunday due to the time change. Or the Guinness. Or both. Who knows. Then those libertines in Les Sans Culottes had me getting to sleep late even tho they went on 1st last nite @ Tonic. So even though I was back pretty early for me, I killed it by trying to check emails and write till 12:15. Couldn't sleep yet felt all wired today thinking about all the stuff coming up and would I be able to make all the shows tonite and if not, where should I go? Team Spider was supposed to be going on @ 5:10 and I made it down at like 5:25. I was thinking not to even go because by the time I got down there we'd be at the broken eyeglasses in the pit or cops breaking the show up part. I put my earplugs in on the subway and I get out @ City Hall and don't hear anything. Xris's email (sent to their legal team and Cc:ed to the fans) said City Hall steps, Park Row, but that nabe's huge and since I'm never usually down there, what do I know? I figure it's where the anti-arena rally was. Lights are flashing in the distance and as I walk down the block, I see the sign that says City Hall Park and then I hear Team Spider. My heart actually leaps. I can do this! They're on "Rotgut" (the song). Blackout Matt said he'd just gotten there as well and didn't know what time they started. So I make my way up to the stage and take pix and then some girl leaves to answer her cellphone and I move closer. On the anti-Bloomberg sign board someone wrote "Hey, Bloomberg. 'Thanks' for saving CBGB's...in case you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic. Jerk." At least I didn't miss "Bush Bush Bush." There really wasn't a big crowd up front. Xris said they had 2 songs to do and start "Lily's Treat." A siren blares in the distance and Xris and ZAK exchange a smile. My film runs out and I'm changing it and then I hear a scraping sound and a crash.

I look up and ZAK's not onstage anymore. He fell over.

People are actually taking pix of what's going on. Xris said ZAK's ok and people call 911. "...his leg's really bent..." "...best old guy living the punk lifestyle..." "...Jesus! Learn your lessons!" (oh, can it with the Jesus crap already. Can't you see the man's hurt?). "...He's 80 (Xris)..." "...he's cool like that..." "...has a pacemaker..."

It's taking way too long for the ambulance to come. I tell myself that maybe there's no reason to hurry, because it's too late. Then, maybe it's because all the streets are blocked off for the parade? There's no reason to hurry because he's ok? I feel like I should be doing something. I make my way to the side of the stage and hug Ladybug cuz I don't know what the hell else to do.

A guy asks me if I know what happened. I told him I was looking at my camera. He says he was standing next to me. "Are they friends of yours?"

I don't know what to say. I mean, yeah, I consider them my friends, but I don't know what to say. I got into Team Spider thru The Spunk Lads and I am friends with The Spunk Lads but that's too long a story cuz we're having a conversation but the bottom line is that Team Spider are friends of mine. He says, "They're really good, have some catchy songs. I really like them."

He introduces himself and I wonder if he's saying he likes them because I said they're my friends. Wait a minute, is he trying to hit on me? What, does he go to funerals just to hug women who're crying?

The ambulance arrives and we applaud when they put ZAK on the stretcher. "Let's hear it fer ZAK!" he calls. Punk rock and total ZAK.

I pick up a pen and write on the Bloomberg board. A guy who's in charge of it tells me that it's going to be archived and that my children will be able to read it. "Not saying that you have children, but if you do in the future we're archiving it so that they'll be able to read it." I put down Bloomberg NO, ZAK YES. What the hell. I'm not good with these things.

Another classic Team Spider show in the park.

(Yeah, I started this yesterday so change all the "today" references to "yesterday" and make present tense past where appropriate. Thanx.)