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.
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.
posted by heather @ 12:33 AM
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