& A Time To Every Purpose Under Punk Rock Heaven
Mary Prankster//Old Office//11/28/05
It's staggering, the number of bands I've gotten into either directly or indirectly while following Black 47 like Jesus Christ on down the road to ruin. Mary Prankster opened for them on St. Pat's @ Wetlands in 2001. I had no idea what I was getting into when this woman gets onstage in a halter showing off her tattoos and carrying an acoustic guitar. That bears a GG Allin sticker. She won me over with the F-bombing classics Mercyfuck ("I want to fuck all of you 'til you see I'm the worst fuckup in all history), Tits & Whiskey (with its "Fuck Me" chorus), and signature song The World Is Full Of Bastards (And I've dated every one). Not to mention The Bottle's Talking Now and Valentine.
I've seen the Mouth From Maryland every time she played locally ever since, from Brownies to CBGB (with a backing band) to the Merc to Tribeca Rock Club. At the Gallery this past June, she told us to tip the bartenders because they'd be out of a job by the end of August. And then launched into Punk Rock Heaven, of course. Well, she was wrong about that but right about everything else. Just recently, she wowed the crowd at the Knit when she opened for country singer Roger Alan Wade (who was either drunk or stoned or both). I was like, That's my Mary onstage, kicking ass!
So needless to say I was shocked, surprised, and saddened to hear that she was calling it quits--and not playing locally. It's funny, I only just signed her mailing list at the Gallery show; she'd always ask us to, saying how, as an independant artist, she relies on the mailing list to keep us informed. But this is me we're talking about here. I always know when she's playing. It's in the papers and on the venue's site. I couldn't believe she was quitting. Why? I mean, it's not my business, but still. Why? And why is it always the talented ones? Her last shows were in Annapolis (Chinatown bus doesn't stop there), Baltimore over Thanksgiving--er, Pranksgiving--weekend, and some place in Pennsylvania, also over the holiday. I wish I knew how to book shows. So I sent her a cornball email wishing her well and that I wish she could've played locally. And that I'll see her in Punk Rock Heaven, hon. A few weeks later the gig at the Knit was listed.
I saw Mary at Tribeca last week after Captured! By Robots. She told me that she felt she took her act as far as she could and was going to come up with something better. "I feel really positive about it. I keep hearing 'Turn! Turn! Turn!'--y'know, that song by the Byrds, 'To everything Turn! Turn! Turn!'--everywhere. In the car, in the stores, in the elevator. So it's a good sign." Maybe she's just saying that to make me feel better. It kinda worked for a bit. "Well, at least you're retiring because you want to, not because you have to, like you're dying or something."
On my way down Leonard, two teenage boys, one in a Misfits shirt, hurry past me. There's a crowd congregating outside again, young people with pierced lips and spacers in their lobes. The bar is packed. Who the fuck is playing here? Bullet For My Valentine and It Dies Today. Also Scars Of Tomorrow. Not quite Punk Rock Heaven. I stop in the bathroom, but then wished that I didn't. There's Mary, in her getup, applying her makeup. I wished that I didn't have to go because I felt like I ruined the surprise, that I saw the bride before the ceremony. I told her it was fitting that It Dies Today was playing upstairs from her. "I saw them earlier, taking pictures. They're adorable! They're 17-yr-old emo boys wearing more eyeliner than I am!"
I start downstairs again when the woman stationed outside the Tap Bar asks me if I'm looking for the coat check. Jaysus, there's another venue downstairs, you idiot. That was the first time I went to the Old Office since it was remodeled. Not only is the gym locker/melted crayon smell gone, it's wider across from the bar and there are tables. Also gone is the brick stoop adjacent to the bar where bands set up the merch and that I always trip over. There's an actual spot for the soundboard near the bar instead of on a table next to the stage. There was another act and I wasn't sure who was going first, so I was sitting down--until two women came and pulled up chairs and sat at the opposite corner of the table. Right in front of me. I mean, I was going to stand up thru Mary's set, but who do they think they are?
I resigned her mailing list--since I wasn't sure if my previous signing was lost, she'd just never sent any emails since, or my email deletes 'em. Well, if she put Mercyfuck in the subject, the latter is probably the case. Mary promised to keep us informed if anything good happens. Anything bad? She'll keep it to herself. The gig was well-attended. Mary was in a white studded jumpsuit, her salute to Fat Elvis--her site said Mary has left the building. It was Mary and her voice and lyrics, and the acoustic guitar, and I almost started crying. She started with Swan Dive--"These triumphs and successes/Just lead to bigger messes/Once blessed and bound for glory/but that's another story/All your dreams will fall apart/Your fondest wishes, too/And the fears you thought you conquered/Will be right here when you do." Why'd she gotta go retire? She's my favorite female solo artist, and one of those rare artists who's a true performer, not an entertainer and one of those performers who's an artist. She just moved to NYC 2 years ago. Things were going to go up from there. Every time she looked in my direction I thought the tears would spill. After Stars, off her live album, she said in a mock-teary voice, "I didn't think she had it in her! That's so poignant, man! It's a good thing she's retiring! I can't take another 10 years of this shit!" Dedicated to her second home of NYC was Punk Rock Heaven: "Punk Rock 'Eaven is just like the Knit only there's no covah!" PRH and the next one, The World Is Full Of Bastards, got the biggest responses. I was trying to keep it in and not sing along so we could all hear Mary undiluted and it seemed that others were, too, but at some point we all decided to go for it, before the big singalongs of Mercyfuck and Lemonade--"I've seen the future and it looks like lemonade!"--making the best of the surplus citrus in life. I was kinda expecting her to end with New Tricks--"I was gonna change the world through music/I was gonna fall in love/I was going to live the good life I'd been hearing so much of/I was gonna be a rockstar, baby/I was gonna have some fun/I sure miss 21"--but maybe that was too obvious. She ended with Roulette Girl.
Even though the show was great, Mary was great, and she went out the way she wanted when she wanted, I was thoroughly bummed out after. Wanted to eat something. Had a scoop of Chip Off The Ol' Cheesecake at Baskin Robbins. It helped a little. Kind of.
It's staggering, the number of bands I've gotten into either directly or indirectly while following Black 47 like Jesus Christ on down the road to ruin. Mary Prankster opened for them on St. Pat's @ Wetlands in 2001. I had no idea what I was getting into when this woman gets onstage in a halter showing off her tattoos and carrying an acoustic guitar. That bears a GG Allin sticker. She won me over with the F-bombing classics Mercyfuck ("I want to fuck all of you 'til you see I'm the worst fuckup in all history), Tits & Whiskey (with its "Fuck Me" chorus), and signature song The World Is Full Of Bastards (And I've dated every one). Not to mention The Bottle's Talking Now and Valentine.
I've seen the Mouth From Maryland every time she played locally ever since, from Brownies to CBGB (with a backing band) to the Merc to Tribeca Rock Club. At the Gallery this past June, she told us to tip the bartenders because they'd be out of a job by the end of August. And then launched into Punk Rock Heaven, of course. Well, she was wrong about that but right about everything else. Just recently, she wowed the crowd at the Knit when she opened for country singer Roger Alan Wade (who was either drunk or stoned or both). I was like, That's my Mary onstage, kicking ass!
So needless to say I was shocked, surprised, and saddened to hear that she was calling it quits--and not playing locally. It's funny, I only just signed her mailing list at the Gallery show; she'd always ask us to, saying how, as an independant artist, she relies on the mailing list to keep us informed. But this is me we're talking about here. I always know when she's playing. It's in the papers and on the venue's site. I couldn't believe she was quitting. Why? I mean, it's not my business, but still. Why? And why is it always the talented ones? Her last shows were in Annapolis (Chinatown bus doesn't stop there), Baltimore over Thanksgiving--er, Pranksgiving--weekend, and some place in Pennsylvania, also over the holiday. I wish I knew how to book shows. So I sent her a cornball email wishing her well and that I wish she could've played locally. And that I'll see her in Punk Rock Heaven, hon. A few weeks later the gig at the Knit was listed.
I saw Mary at Tribeca last week after Captured! By Robots. She told me that she felt she took her act as far as she could and was going to come up with something better. "I feel really positive about it. I keep hearing 'Turn! Turn! Turn!'--y'know, that song by the Byrds, 'To everything Turn! Turn! Turn!'--everywhere. In the car, in the stores, in the elevator. So it's a good sign." Maybe she's just saying that to make me feel better. It kinda worked for a bit. "Well, at least you're retiring because you want to, not because you have to, like you're dying or something."
On my way down Leonard, two teenage boys, one in a Misfits shirt, hurry past me. There's a crowd congregating outside again, young people with pierced lips and spacers in their lobes. The bar is packed. Who the fuck is playing here? Bullet For My Valentine and It Dies Today. Also Scars Of Tomorrow. Not quite Punk Rock Heaven. I stop in the bathroom, but then wished that I didn't. There's Mary, in her getup, applying her makeup. I wished that I didn't have to go because I felt like I ruined the surprise, that I saw the bride before the ceremony. I told her it was fitting that It Dies Today was playing upstairs from her. "I saw them earlier, taking pictures. They're adorable! They're 17-yr-old emo boys wearing more eyeliner than I am!"
I start downstairs again when the woman stationed outside the Tap Bar asks me if I'm looking for the coat check. Jaysus, there's another venue downstairs, you idiot. That was the first time I went to the Old Office since it was remodeled. Not only is the gym locker/melted crayon smell gone, it's wider across from the bar and there are tables. Also gone is the brick stoop adjacent to the bar where bands set up the merch and that I always trip over. There's an actual spot for the soundboard near the bar instead of on a table next to the stage. There was another act and I wasn't sure who was going first, so I was sitting down--until two women came and pulled up chairs and sat at the opposite corner of the table. Right in front of me. I mean, I was going to stand up thru Mary's set, but who do they think they are?
I resigned her mailing list--since I wasn't sure if my previous signing was lost, she'd just never sent any emails since, or my email deletes 'em. Well, if she put Mercyfuck in the subject, the latter is probably the case. Mary promised to keep us informed if anything good happens. Anything bad? She'll keep it to herself. The gig was well-attended. Mary was in a white studded jumpsuit, her salute to Fat Elvis--her site said Mary has left the building. It was Mary and her voice and lyrics, and the acoustic guitar, and I almost started crying. She started with Swan Dive--"These triumphs and successes/Just lead to bigger messes/Once blessed and bound for glory/but that's another story/All your dreams will fall apart/Your fondest wishes, too/And the fears you thought you conquered/Will be right here when you do." Why'd she gotta go retire? She's my favorite female solo artist, and one of those rare artists who's a true performer, not an entertainer and one of those performers who's an artist. She just moved to NYC 2 years ago. Things were going to go up from there. Every time she looked in my direction I thought the tears would spill. After Stars, off her live album, she said in a mock-teary voice, "I didn't think she had it in her! That's so poignant, man! It's a good thing she's retiring! I can't take another 10 years of this shit!" Dedicated to her second home of NYC was Punk Rock Heaven: "Punk Rock 'Eaven is just like the Knit only there's no covah!" PRH and the next one, The World Is Full Of Bastards, got the biggest responses. I was trying to keep it in and not sing along so we could all hear Mary undiluted and it seemed that others were, too, but at some point we all decided to go for it, before the big singalongs of Mercyfuck and Lemonade--"I've seen the future and it looks like lemonade!"--making the best of the surplus citrus in life. I was kinda expecting her to end with New Tricks--"I was gonna change the world through music/I was gonna fall in love/I was going to live the good life I'd been hearing so much of/I was gonna be a rockstar, baby/I was gonna have some fun/I sure miss 21"--but maybe that was too obvious. She ended with Roulette Girl.
Even though the show was great, Mary was great, and she went out the way she wanted when she wanted, I was thoroughly bummed out after. Wanted to eat something. Had a scoop of Chip Off The Ol' Cheesecake at Baskin Robbins. It helped a little. Kind of.
posted by heather @ 11:22 PM
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