Celebrating 6 Months Of Sidewalks!

The good news is that all the film visible in this picture has been developed. The bad news (and yes, I typo'ed "bad" as "band") is that all that film has been replaced with more undeveloped film. Or maybe that's good news.

Yes, 6 months and 85 posts later I'm still seeing shows so you don't have to. Still trying to save the music world 1 band at a time. So I'd like to take a moment to thank my 2 (known) readers. Blackout Matt, who still reads this even though I sometimes write about bands that sound like Bon Jovi, and RebelMart, AKA Scott MX Turner, lurker extraodinnare, who might be ruining his eyesight trying to figure out what's visible on my CD rack. Unless he's stopped reading this. In which case, never mind. But I hope not, because who else will let me know I misspelled "drummer" as "dummer"?

But patron saint of all concertgoers! Oh my God! (Or should I say, Oh my rockness! Ha ha.) Wow. This, I was not expecting. I am humbled. I was going to explain how this is Hollow Sidewalks's unbirthday, a family tradition and institution since I was a young'un. Since my birthday is in the summer I couldn't celebrate it in school and to make me feel better, we celebrate half-birthdays as well and I brought munchkins into class. There was a recipe in a Disney kids' cookbook that had a recipe from Uncle Scrooge that coined the phrase unbirthday and it's stuck lo these many years. But now that's unnecessary because I've just been named the patron saint of all concertgoers.

Again, wow.

London's Calling But I Let The Machine Pick Up

Nine Black Alps/Nightmare Of You/Hard-Fi//Bowery Ballroom//1/17/06

I don't know what made me buy this ticket, whether I'd read something about Hard-Fi someplace (though I can't remember where) or was thinking that by the time the show rolled around, there would be some buzz/press about the band, whose next album is out stateside in March, and it'll sell out. Which it did. It wasn't that cold out, so it wasn't bad standing around outside The Bowery Ballroom until 7. They have a T-shirt that I really want to get, but it's $17 and haven't I given that place enough of my money over the last 8 years? The last-minute-buyers line continued to grow as the ticketholders line remained relatively short. Some on the DOS line clutched TONYs. Maybe I should read Time Out and Spin and then I'd be more in the know about bands and pop music. One woman asked in an accent if there'd be more spots available. She was directed to the other line, where some people were starting to rock out to the soundcheck. Y'know, if you're such a big fan of the band, how come you didn't get tix ahead of time? Then again, why did I get there so early? I had a cramp in my neck and seriously considered selling my ticket and leaving. The sign on the door posted set times and said photo ID must be available at all times. Are they kidding? But it's me. If I can't take pix I'm not going back there. I probably won't be able to afford to much more often. But I can't lose another venue. Too many of 'em close down, anyway. I tried to read as best I could as people got on line discussing the next big show, Editors @ the Merc, which is also sold out. That's funny; I saw the tix onsale on TW for a while and almost went because, well, I am an editor. So I should've gotten in for free. I mean, I'm an editor. It's not like I can afford to go. A little after 7 the guard checked IDs and gave out bracelets. But he didn't say we could go in. So I asked. No response. So I asked again, louder. "That's what kills me," he says, walking further down the line. "She comes here all the time. That kills me." What a fucking ass, talking about me like I'm an idiot and like I'm not even there. Yeah, I come here all the time and you've never braceleted the whole line ahead of time. That's Webster Hall. Because you know someone behind me is gonna yell, "Would you move, already?" If I did, I'd get yelled at. So the second guard, who'd taken the head guard's place at the stool by the door, speaks to someone on his cell and informs us that they're open. It's like when you're at the bank or the post office and the sign says wait until called and someone steps away from the window and I wait for the little light to go on before I step up and someone yells at me to go already. Downstairs the guy who rips tickets smiled and said, "You're always first." "I try to be." He wished me a happy new year but I'm still burning up about what happened upstairs. I feel like a dolt. I'm never going there again.

I tried to read as I waited for the doors to open inside. People sat at the bar, chatting with the next bouncer, so I got up and sat in front of the door. Still couldn't concentrate and now my seat on the couch is gone. A lot of the people buying tix at the door get in. Soon a big crowd forms behind me. You'd think that'd make me feel powerful, but I just want it to be over. I can't turn my head because of the pain in my neck; I have to turn at the waist. The girl to my left is in an Izod beanie and an Art Brut shirt that says something like Popular culture doesn't apply to me or whatever their oxymoronic slogan is. More buzz about the Editors show. There's a sign up that 2 members of Nightmare Of You is DJing at Fat Baby later and another sign on the FYE table that it you reserve your copy of the new Hard-Fi album, you can meet the band later. Right. There's a geeky FYE staff member in a shirt that says FYE autograph tent staff and he looks up at me thru the window in the door. I smile and he smiles back, then starts laughing. What, do you think you're so much better than me because you're a FYE staff member? It's a little after 8 and someone in the crowd says, "What are you doing here? The band's onstage!" Everyone freaks out. "They're just soundchecking," someone answers. "It's been going on for a while," I worry. "Maybe they have to learn a new song." "They wouldn't let us stand down here thru their set." Would they? It's pretty lound for a soundcheck. "What time is the 1st band supposed to go on?" "8:15." A little while later they open the doors.

Nine Black Alps had one strike against them from the start, or perhaps 3, so they were pretty much out before they even started. The bass player was in a Cribs shirt and trucker hat and the lead singer/guitarer was kinda Cobainy, right down to the hair, except he swapped the green cardigan for a green, zippered hoodie over his striped shirt. Except they played watery grunge rock with absolutely no feeling. Nightmare Of You come from that exotic locale of "right around the corner," kinda poppy/indie, and they invited all of us to the afterparty @ Fat Baby. "And from there we're going to The Darkroom, and then we're going to get breakfast...."

In between sets the chatter behind me was about the angst over having to miss the Editors' show ("...the best post-punk imitation since Interpol...similarities can be shocking at times..." sez the Onion), how much they miss The Futureheads and Razorlight, SXSW, and how they knew last year that Cut Copy was going to be huge. Someone sitting on the floor was reading New York, the headline asking Is This It For The Strokes? (God, one can only hope--and I mean that in a negative way, not I hope this is their big album.) The guy next to me was reading Spin. What the hell was I doing there? I mean, besides seeing shows so you don't have to.

By 10:30, when Hard-Fi went on, my neck was killing me and so was my back. It was packed to the rafters and the floor shook. They put on a good show, exactly what you'd expect from The Next Biggest Things who were playing at the Bowery Ballroom. They've been compared to The Streets, if that means anyting to ya. I just kept thinking, Spunky lads played tomorrow's music yesterday to Londoners and Brooklyners. I liked their show more than their music. I was like, Well, that's a good show, what with the dark stage, rotating search lights, good lighting, energetic singer, great sound system, music world in the palm of their hands, played all their hits, etc, but not necessarily a great show or a memorable one. There were no "what's going to happen next?" moments, nothing that you'd be telling others about for months after, other than "I saw Hard-Fi at The Bowery Ballroom in January." How is this band and Editors any different than the British Invasion in 1994/95? Just the band names have changed. Well, I guess the difference is that the kids, who were missing Editors and the Futureheads, missed it the first time around so it's all new to them. On the way out, they were discussing coming back for The Subways and which bandmembers are old enough to drink and which are their age.

Because I went down there straight from work I missed the newsflash that it would be raining torrentially by the time the show's over. I stopped to get a soda so I could take more aspirins. Of course I just missed the train. Tix for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah @ The Bowery are going onsale at 5 today. Not going. For $13 I would've considered it, but not $17.

Saturday Night On The Lower East Side

The Debutantes/The Dansettes/Gaijin a Go-Go/Les Sans Culottes//Sin-e//1/14/06

What a fucking night it was from the get-go. I thought I'd be getting off easy and wouldn't have much to say since I've written about The Dansettes, Gaijin, and LSC in the past, but maybe what makes what I do so hard to stop is that just when I think I have it all figured out, the show happens. I mean, I'd planned to title this one Getting Off Easy.....

I almost bought tickets to Camper Van Beethoven, but it was $22. And they went onsale a while ago and I was hesitant not only because of the price, but what if something else as cool/not as expensive cropped up and I'd be locked into Camper Van? But it's Camper Van. And at The Bowery Ballroom. Still, I passed and was thankful that I did.

The wind was howling as I finished up checking my emails and I had my keys in my hand when I stopped to get a throat drop out of my backpack and left and went to lock my door and.....no keys. Shit, I just had them. Did I ever tell you that I think I'm getting Alzheimer's? Did I ever tell you that I think I'm getting Alzheimer's? Not in my bag. Not in my pants pocket. Not in my coat pocket. Not in my bag. 7:10. I was kinda tempted to just say fuck it and worry about it later since I did have my wallet on me and wouldn't be locked out with no way to call the locksmith. The super does have an extra key from when he had to get in because of some leak on my line but knowing him he wouldn't answer the door or not be able to locate my spare. I tried the knob, unable to believe this happened again, and the door opened. Son of a b. I can't believe this. So I shut the door again and tried it again. Holy shit. Actually, I think there's some button on the inside of the door that prevents you from being locked out. Anyway, I had a show to get to so where the hell are my keys? Picked em up, got a Halls, went to leave. Keys must be in my backpack. No. Not on my person. Not on or behind the junk table by the door. I can't believe this, I start straightening out around here and I lose my keys. What is this, leftover Friday the 13th? I'm going to have to miss LSC because I can't find my keys. Which must be in my backpack. Still no. Think. I was outside, thought I was locked out, but was able to get back in. Keys are in the lock. No. OK, they were in my hand, I went to my backpack....and they were on top of the case of cat food on a nearby chair. I don't remember putting them there, but OK. (Did I ever tell you....) I get downstairs to find that the rain is coming down pretty heavily, to the point that I can't get away with not having an umbrella. Back upstairs for it I head and a woman comes in and wants to get her mail before joining me, so I wait for her because I hate it when I'm getting my mail and someone sneaks off in the elevator. Then it was off to the ATM--and they couldn't process my transaction. Great. I try the next machine, knowing full well that if I exceed a certain number of tries, they won't process my transaction. I consider hitting an ATM on E. Houston and getting stuck w/the surcharges. Funny, but I never considered going back home. Maybe there is something to TW presales, as unnecessary as it would've been for that show. And when I got to Jackson Heights, the F was waiting there with the doors open.

The stairwell out smelled like shit and as I walked down E. Houston, my umbrella kept turning inside out. So I had to turn around and wait for the wind to blow it back. The more it kept happening, the more I'd turn around and jab the wind with it. The 9:00 band cancelled and the show was moved up an hour. Shit, I'd'a cancelled, too, if I were able. Once inside I felt as battered as my umbrella. I sat in the corner and tried to catch my breath as the table nearest the stange had a noisy reunion and one woman kept laughing way too loud. Friends of a band was my guess. "I'm a Renaissance Man," a guy told the hyena. He went on about some play he was in but the audience was all Gen X and didn't catch the pop culture references, such as the 80s band he mentioned but I forgot which one it was. The hyena responded in her usual way.

I wanted to see The Debutantes because the name is cool, though they could either be some all-female garage/punk....or The Domestics with a different name. Whaddaya know? I was right and guess which one it was. The chorus of their 1st song went something like, January's cold but we're gonna rock n roll. Seriously. A while in, I checked my watch. 9:00. Damn. See, they went on a little earlier than the 9 they were supposed to go on at, which in Gigland would be after 9 so then they would've ended later and this would've wasted more time and then it would be time for the better bands. The Debutantes consist of 2 gals on guitar and 2 guys on bass and drums. The lead Deb was in all black and a flirty lil pinstriped skirt with 2 different pairs of fishnets on, as in this is my rocker chick outfit, and the other one in all black but fuschia (or red, couldn't tell w/the lighting) tights. See, they shoulda been in old prom dresses and pearls and the guys in powder blue suits because that would be fun. Oh, yeah, and get some good songs. All thru their set I was arms crossed, hands in pockets, hands in back pockets, thumbs thru belt loops. At least I got to save film. The head Deb told us all to stick around for the next bands, including "Gaijin a Goo-Goo." "Goo Goo? Go Go?" She didn't even attempt Les Sans Culottes, just mumbled the name.

After the set I needed to sit down but my original seat was taken. I got a stool by the soundboard which was incredibly uneven but it was too cold in the doorway. I moved up front. Still too cold. Close the goddamned door already! I tried to huddle myself for warmth, reminding myself that Siberia for The Twats was colder. Every time the door opened I was freezing. And I kept hearing this weird crunching, rustling noise. I was hoping it was my dangling earrings but no, it was my neck. I was cold again and found a stool behind the table formerly occupied by the Debs' crew. A guy got up and bumped into me, then said, "Hi, I'm Andrew. I'll be bumping into you all night." We shook and I said it was OK, I was going to get up when The Dansettes started anyway, but then he said, "I said I was sorry. I didn't see you there." As in, he didn't care that I was getting up; he was the one who gets to apologize. Asshole.

If I knew/remembered how to do that linking to a previous post thing I'd link back to my Dansettes/LSC post. But I gotta hand it to The Dansettes. I liked them better at Sin-e than at the Knit. For one, the stage @ Sin-e is lower as well as wider as opposed to deeper. And there's just a lot of bad juju in the Main Space. The place was packed. After, they handed out cards for their next gigs, but the address for The Delancey is wrong. "That's OK, I know where it is." "Yeah, we figured a lot of people here do."

At some point I decided that dancing and working up a sweat would be a great way to combat the back/neck pains. It would be like moist heat therapy and working through the pain would help. Gaijin, in their futuristic silver Ms. Femmeboto outfits, were debuting some new material. They were having a contest to see if anyone could guess when their new song about an animal was played, and which animal they're singing about for a free CD. Those who speak Japanese were disqualified. Someone yelled "Tiger!" before they even started playing. Uh, Peelander-Z has the song about the tiger. Well, I knew when the new song was being played because I've seen Gaijin before and knew which songs I haven't heard--that, and they made it so obvious by reminding us of the contest and then they cued the bass player pretty loudly with "It's this one!" About something that had a disease--a man?--like Mickey but not a mouse. Sounds like a rat to me. Or a man, what with that disease clause. Not to mention the recorded sound effects of subway rats. What, did they record that at Jackson Heights? So I yelled out subway rats but since I was out of breath from dancing I wasn't loud enough until the end of the set and then someone else who heard me said it, too, but I won the EP. And, well, Rat Song was written on the setlist. Hey, they disqualified those who spoke Japanese but not the front row.

So I thought I'd get off easy because I've run out of good things to say about Les Sans Culottes and don't want to bore everyone. Yeah, I know. What everyone? I only have 2 readers and one of them is in LSC. Luckily I had some Aleve on me and wound my way thru the crowd to the bathroom and back before LSC started. So I was free to work up some heat therapy...and crashed right into the Dansette behind me and spilled her drink on her. I felt like crap and kept apologizing and offered her money. I figured that for a safety measure I'd stand next to her so I didn't get her again, though I did bump into the guy behind me. The Dansette's cute boyfriend comes back from the bar with a bottle of water and she starts blotting at her dress because of course she still has to be in her good dress. I apologized again and she said what for, so I said for spilling your drink and she just flashes me this radiant smile, says don't be silly, went back to blotting, and I felt terrible. But later on she stepped on my toe--just missing my fucked-up toe--while still in her stilettos so we're even. My 1st time getting hurt at an LSC show. Here's to many more--LSC shows, not me getting hurt there. Oh, yeah: Drink spilling, toe crunching, and dancing thru the pain aside, this was the most punk rockinest, blazing LSC show.

It was snowing by the time the show was over. Pretty, but cold. Of course that's the flip side to working up a sweat--going outside after and possibly catching a cold. Inching my way back down E. Houston I caught up to a group of girls and the group in front of them turned around and asked, "Ladies, do you know where The Darkroom is?" Before I could open my mouth I looked up to see that we were on the corner of Ludlow already, (cue Ludlow, which is always playing in my head whenever I'm there) so I just pointed to my left, but the ladies in front of me took over. At the intersection of Allen and E. Houston a loud, obnoxious flock of prepster guys in suits came out of nowhere and asked, "Do you know where Martelli's Bar is?" No. "Martinelli's!" another corrected. Still no. "It's right over there!" yet another said as we crossed the street. The one next to me started hocking up a lugie and I cringed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hit you." Uh, that's not why I'm cringing. As we reached the next corner one of them yelled, "I want everybody to turn around and look at that billboard!" I turned around to look at the American Apparel ad. "Viva Mexico!" he yelled. Yeah, I thought so.

Tagged, I'm It

Jonny Lives!/Treasures of the Sea/The Patchwork Family//Sin-e//1/10/06

They tagged my ass, yo. Jury duty. I have to report at 8:30. I know. I first roll out of bed at 8 and by the time I throw something on from the floor and feed the cat and find my sneakers and my bag and my hat and get to the subway it's 8:30.

Still, this is my vacation. I have a feeling I'll be made to stay late to make up for the time I'm out--not like they didn't know this was coming. Sequester me, baby. I thought I'd have like a week before I had to go because of where my number fell in the callback group so I figured I'd be calling back all week till they got up to my group, but no. I told them tomorrow was it and they said they could get me out of it and I said I'd like to get it over with--leaving out the part about how I'm looking for a new job and don't want jury duty over my head. "Remember, guilty until proven innocent!" said the Head Cheese. Uh, yeah, thanks.

Feeling incredibly tagged I went down to Kinkos to get my resume revamped--only to find the Kinkos on 7th closed. Closed! This can't be good if the place where I did my job searching--and during lunch!--closed, so I had to schlep down to the Kinkos across the street from The Slimelight and a block away from Tramps. Funny how it was so easy to drop $1100 for shows over the course of the year but I was really dreading spending $159 for a resume revamp and didn't want to part with the money. After all, my problems will resolve themselves on their own, right? Two blocks down, of course, is Academy Records where I used to spend too much time listening to CDs before I bought 'em when I worked nearby and once found G.M.T. on the 99-cent shelf. Heading up to the V after, I thought of how I used to sit outside Tramps when I used to work in the nabe. I looked down the block, wondering if I'd be able to see the younger version of myself on line there for some show. I'd tell myself to run like hell and don't end up like me. Of course, I wouldn't listen to myself. As it should be.

I knew things were going to go downhill when I got to the assigned address only to see a group of people with summonses in their hands leaving to go to another building. So I got in line behind them. And waited. And hoped that I wasn't supposed to check in at the previous location and then go to this one. The letters engraved on the cornerstone of the building were already wearing off. Queens County Courthouse; David N. Dinkins, Mayor. We were actually on a line for a metal detector, I realized when I got up to the thing. Now, how many bombers has that thing caught in Queens? Still, I set it off. The courthouse is across the street from a Dunkin Donuts, so you'd think there'd be complimentary donuts and coffee. From there it was to a hallway because the juror holding cell is being refurbished. Proper courtroom attire? People were in jeans and sneakers so fuck it, I'm wearing sneakers the next day. And that was it until about noon. I napped a bit. Tried to read. Fidgeted and squirmed. Bit my lip until it bled. Again. Hell, I'd prefer another day of the strike to this. At least during the strike you eventually went someplace, even if it was only to work. At noon we were let into the courtroom, had to fill out our summonses, take off the ID card, and hand 'em in. I felt like I was in kindergarten. They told people to turn off cell phones at least 5X and said if someone else uses one they'd take them away. And then someone would make a call. They had to hand back summonses because people didn't take off the ID. If you had an "issue"--couldn't give at least 10 days to jury duty--we had to come up row by row. People got up regardless of where they were sitting. The woman next to me told me she couldn't give 10 days to jury duty because she didn't feel good. Yeah, me either. 10 days? That's a stretch. They called names to be sent for interviews. Those not called were sent to lunch, be back by 2. I was tempted to skip out. The bus shelter in front of the courthouse had ads for a lawyer--Has your loved one been imprisoned?--or something like that with an ad for Judge Hatchett on the back. Back in the courtroom and they ignored us for 45 minutes. Fidgeted. "Didn't they tell us to be back by 2?" asked the class cut-up. I wanted to leave. "Well," they said, "I guess it's obvious by now that you're not going anywhere." Never before have those words sounded so sweet.
***
If I were able to see my former self on 21st Street the other day, one thing I wouldn't need to tell myself is about The Mooney Suzuki. I knew right away, back at Tramps in 1999. So when I got an email about 2 incognito NYC gigs, I had to go. Even now, even after everything that's happened. They said to go on their site and email their merch handler for the info. I considered begging and pleading for the tipoff so I won't make other plans in the meantime. I don't know why I didn't immediately go on Ticketweb/ master and do a search, but I let it ride. If I couldn't go, I couldn't go. On Dec. 31 I just happened to check Ticketweb to see if anything was posted to go onsale the next Wednesday. And there it was at Sin-e. The Mooney Suzuki. I panicked. I bought the ticket and started filling out my billing info and then remembered that I had an account. That would go faster. I went back and signed in, then bought the ticket. But it came up that I was buying 2 tix. Shit. I needed to pick up my laundry. My computer is too slow. I closed the browser, restarted it, signed into my account, and bought the ticket. Phew! I was gettin a guitar in my face at that show! So I emailed the merch person that I got my ticket for the 1/10 show, where/when's the next one?

By the time they got back to me the 1/17 show was posted both on the Sin-e site and Ticketweb. But I can't make the 1/17 show. The site didn't have The Mooney Suzuki listed, though. It said The Patchwork Family (Shhhhhh!) and links went to The Mooney Suzuki's site and their Myspace site. The writeup had the Mooney's pic. But the merch person wrote back something like, Just so nobody feels ripped off, they're not "secret Mooney Suzuki shows," The Patchwork Family features members of The Mooney Suzuki. And he added a link to the Sin-e site. Okay, first of all I know what the Sin-e site is. You don't have to tell me, of all people. And I felt ripped off with Alive & Amplified, but let's not split hairs. But this isn't a Mooney Suzuki gig? I bought tickets. They didn't want us to feel ripped off? It was listed as TMS on Ticketweb. They said 2 Mooney shows. And they didn't want us to feel ripped off. Mooney Suzuki featuring. How could we not think this is a Mooney Suzuki show? The ticket never arrived. The weekend of, the Ticketweb listing was changed to Patchwork Family (mem. Mooney Suzuki). And they don't want us to feel ripped off. Is this still a secret Mooney Suzuki show and they're yanking our chains? If not, it's still a night of music from some familiar faces. It's not so much that I feel ripped off, it's just that I want to know what's going on. Will the ticket arrive the next day? TW said if you don't get it at least 48 hrs. before the show, contact them. Still, I didn't. Now I have to take my email confirmation to Sin-e for a show that's not sold out, not even The Mooney Suzuki (or is it?). How embarrassing.

The E train was weird. I noticed it as soon as I got on. The bars were all different. They were longer, extended to both ends of the windows. I expected them to come down across our chests like a safety harness on a rollercoaster before it takes off. And at the end seats, the bars by the doorframe were vertical and longer. And the poles in the middle. A lot. I had to count 'em. 10. That's weird. Or am I imagining things? I looked out the end windows and the next cars had the same weird poles and handlebars. With the weak lighting, the car seemed older, dirtier, and more crowded than it really was, because it was neither dirty (well, particularly dirty) or crowded. But my guess was that it was a really old subway car. That I was sitting in a piece of history. I wondered what the line was colored and lettered back in the 60s and 70s. And when it went on the express track, I wondered if it would really stop at Queens Plaza next, or if it was a phantom subway that would it stop at some ghost station instead. I saw the V on the higher, local track and didn't see the local stations that we bypassed, so I had to wonder. I thought of the first time that the F went thru the 63rd St. tunnel. Stations that were there all along and I'd never been there before. By the time I got on the F at W4 I felt sick. That crazy guy claiming to be selling Street News and who's really carrying a stack of Onions was back.

I seriously had some excuses to give them, by way of small talk, for my TW confirmation, the same as if I'd actually had the ticket for a gig @ Sin-e. As if they cared as they checked thru the papers on their clipboard. There was nothing to worry about as I sidestepped the crowd who stood from the center of the bar and back. Jonny Lives! is, indeed, a strange thing to name a band, but there is a Jonny in the band. That doesn't make it any better, though. When introducing the band members, the singer/guitarist mentioned the other guitar player's other band and when they were playing.

But when Treasures of the Sea started putting things on the stage, I felt a little better. Playing things is awesome. Except it turns out that the little square boxes with the pipes coming out of them were amps, not some experimental, handmade, or obscuro instrument. They consist of a clarinet player, acoustic drummer, metal-guitar player (as in, the guitar is made of metal, not that he plays metal--I guess this is the part where a digital camera would've come in handy so you don't have to suffer through my descriptions of the visuals) and a gal singing. The woman is perfect for this band; she's petite with curly hair and reminded me of a living Betty Boop. Except it was really hard to hear her. Her vocals consisted mostly of noises coming from her rounded mouth and watching them was like watching--or listening to--a 78. I felt like I was in a Maakies strip, since so many of them take place on boats or seaside. I could picture them at the Seaport with a dancing monkey in front of them and people throwing change into the clarinet case. It was really interesting to watch at first, but then I was like, Rock! Do something! Stop being so charming! I can't hear you! They're the type of band that needs a seated audience and one that knows what they're going to hear, as in: an audience that knows to be quiet. Because I could hear all the murmuring and stirring in the crowd behind me. The crowd was thinking that this was the perfect opportunity to catch up with each other since they could hear each other over the band. They ended with You Are My Sunshine and Puttin On The Ritz and I had to wonder if their other songs were covers of songs from the 20s and 30s and I just didn't know it.

Well, everything seemed to be in place for a Mooney Suzuki show, secret or otherwise. Will Rockwell was back on drums after a 4-year absence, Mike Fornatale was right up front as well, and I overheard him tell his wife that Blair couldn't make it. And this is the part where you're expecting me to tell you that it was a TMS show. Everything was in place for a Mooney Suzuki show, secret or otherwise, that is, except for a bass player and Mooney Suzuki songs. All through their between-songs banter I found myself cocking my ear for an explanation or a familiar guitar lick. Is TMS going to break up? (I'd heard a rumor.) Is this a sneak preview of the next Mooney album? Is this all a big joke? A side project? Are they trying to feel out the fans for their next step? What's going on here? "We got tired of practicing all alone so we decided to practice in front of you guys." "Art needs a chance to fall flat on its face and now that we've started flat, we can't go any lower." "We just wanted to play for a few friends and more friends showed up than we expected." "I guess if you don't show up next week we'll know what you really think." And Sammy said all of this with a smile on his face, so it just seemed that an explanation would be forthcoming, except it wasn't. Of course there were some typical responses from the crowd: "Play Can!" "Electric Sweat!" "You guys don't rock anymore!" Whatever the case the set started slowly, but there were a few good songs in The Patchwork Family--Ashes, Leap Of Faith (which is going to have an elaborate string arrangement), Rocknrollergirl. The closer was a rousing drinking song with them backed by Treasures of the Sea. They wrote this ode to alcohol because the last 2 years of their careers have made them heavy drinkers. (On the Mooney site later, someone mentioned that it was a preview of new Mooney songs.)

I wanted to see Bona Roba because I did pay $13 for the show, after all, not because their blurb on the Sin-e page said "Rip this joint into your iPod right now!" (Or go out and buy an iPod into which to rip this joint right now because they're that good) because what if TMS are really going to play after? But it was getting late and I had a meeting the next day. Whatever happens, happens. I would think that they think I don't like the songs they did or that I was expecting a typical Mooney gig because I can't go on the 17th, but I know they can care less. And I was right about the E train. When I got on (at like a quarter to 1) there were only 8 poles, 3, 2, and 3. And the handlebars were much shorter. I tried to sleep on the train but couldn't, and then the next thing you know I woke up at 23rd St. Now that's more like it.

& On The 7th Day, I Rocked

5 Cent Deposit/Test Specimen/Violent Affair/Union Dead/Sex Slaves/The Spunks
The Continental//1/7/06

I tried. Really I did.
My New Year's resolution was to cut back on shows or pace myself or something. And not go to shows because I felt I had to.
And I felt like crap after I'd decided that. Like I'd punished myself.
I've always felt that life's too short and besides, my money problems would work out in the end. Why deny myself? And however unhappy I am about my finances, my work sitch, my family, etc., none of that exists when I'm rockin out. It's really easy to drown those problems out with a really good band.
Besides, I passed on a few shows this past week, cover charge and free. So not only did I save money, I saved money on film and developing.
And besides, now there's a 5th band added to the bill, so the $10 goes further. It's like going to the Joey Ramone Xmas bash, which was $2, only I'm doing it 5X in one day. And I'm not bringing my camera. Baby steps.

I was afraid that now that I'm trying to be more aware of my show spending/going out I'd be over it or realize that I can live without it. Or force myself to. But when I woke up that morning all I could think about was the Continental and how it looks when it's empty, when I 1st walk in for shows like this. And it was sunny out, as it usually is on weekends when I spend the afternoon there. Like you'd expect spring and warmer weather to be right around the corner. Me & my stupid optimism. It's what's gotten me into this mess in the first place.

"I really hate this building," said the guy with a cup of Starbucks behind me as I waited to cross the street at Astor Place. "I mean, it's so out of place...." Maybe if there was a Starbucks in it he'd like it more. As it is, there's no Starbucks between the one on Astor and the one on Cooper Union.

You'd think with a name like 5 Cent Deposit they'd be somewhat--or something--better or more than they were. Instead, they laid down that typical Blinkin Green Weasel stuff that for some reason always strikes me as high school stuff. Maybe because, even though I don't know anything about the technicality of music, maybe that stuff really is easy to play. And then, funnily enough, as if to drive the point home, after their set the sound guy played Nevermind, which came out when I was in high school.

Test Specimen's circle pit-startin teenage punk rock girlfriends crack me the hell up and when I was hiding in the corner all their handbag friends were gathered there behind them like they were waiting for a midnight sale at Hot Topic. And Violent Affair still cracks me the hell up and that's not a good thing. Still with their brawling pits that almost had me getting punched in the stomach even though I was nowhere near the pit. So I moved behind them and leaned against the ledge, laughing, as they did their song about being from Valley Stream, their 14-year-old bass player trying to nail the Oi!Oi!Oi!s even though his voice hadn't changed, and covered Leftover Crack's Rock the 40 oz., which made me wish I had a 40 so's I could throw it at them.

So here's where I thought I'd be getting off easy because I've reviewed Test Specimen countless times, covered Violent Affair already, devoted a bulk of the last post to The Sex Slaves, and I won't kid myself, I know I only have 2 readers and both know The Spunks so what's the point in going on about them, but by the time Union Dead, wedged onto the bill at the last minute, came on, my back was hurtin' and for some reason you're not allowed to sit on the floor on the left side of the place, so I found a guitar case on its side to cop a squat upon. The good thing about Union Dead being on this bill is that that made it 6 bands at $10, and like the unlimited Metrocard ads point out, that's like $1.70 a band. Or something. The bad news is that they're crap. The singer was in pinstripe pants with a studded belt, 4 rows wide, around his ass and Converse while the guitar player and bass player wore motorcyle boots. They played hard rock in between posing and taking their shirts off and climbing on the drumkit. I was sitting on the guitar case and couldn't move because there was someone right next to me videotaping and I didn't want to get in his way so I had no choice but to watch the whole set. When they were told they had 1 song left of course they had to do 2. They were literally crammed onto the bill at the last minute and instead of being gracious they had to be rockstars and shortchange the good bands.

The Sex Slaves' "infamous live shows" might also include the circle pit that Test Specimen and their gang starts. That's nothing infamous to me because I've seen that before and I've seen circle pits at their shows. When they did We're Going Out Tonight they jumped onstage during the choruses and Eric said, "That's Test Specimen with We're Going Out Tonight." Obviously I'd take the circle pits over the fake tits any day--not to mention the teenage punk bands. There's just more camaraderie during their A/A sets. "Y'know why I like the A/A shows over the 21+ shows? More girls here I haven't fucked yet," Del admits. "Yeah you did. We were all standing here." After All Night Long, Del said, "If you're under 16, ignore that last song."

What is it with Japanese punk bands and assholes? Hajime said he wants to kiss Eric's asshole after the show. Also that his weenie doesn't sleep at night. "I have Godzilla in my pants," he says, and though The Spunks just came out with a new album, that should be the title of their next one--or someone's. Godzilla In My Pants. After simulating sex with the drumkit, Hajime called Eric onstage to jam with them and then simulated sex with him and of course I didn't have my camera on me. They kept it going even as the lights dimmed.

But I made the most of my locale by heading to Kinkos after to send out a resume even though I knew I wasn't going to get the job and kinda didn't want it. I thought I'd lost my hat but I ran back and found it. On my way to the subway a kid rushed up to me and asked if I knew how to get to a place called Continental. I told him to turn the corner and keep going and he'll see it eventually. "25 St. Marks, 3rd Ave." Uh, no. I look over his shoulder at the latest BOS flyer in the Learning Annex box, which of course is for a show not at Continental. "25 3rd Ave @ St. Marks. Around the corner--"
"This block, not the one with the McDonald's?"
"Yeah, and keep going. It's next to another McDonald's."
He thanks me and heads off, and I should've said that I just left there an hour ago. As I got to the subway I realized that I still had their sched--with the address on it--still in my coat pocket for future refrence.

Oh, yeah. I knocked my phone over and got disconnected so I figured I better copy the post since I assumed my browser would crash before I could post this, which is exactly what happened and has been known to happen regardless of getting disconnected. I could’ve lost a lot of this but I went to save this and saw that I already had something saved as 1/6. It was my Fabulous Entrourage review. I can’t believe that was only--and exactly--a year ago because it seems so long ago and far away.

We're Goin' Out T'nite!

(Uh, the other nite...I mean last month...Er, last year....)
The Genders/The Choke/The Everyothers/The Sex Slaves/The Trash Bar//12/31/05

Yeah, the Brooklyn Boys finally came up with a great band name....but like 2 weeks before their New Year's Eve gig. And I'd made other plans in the meantime. So I didn't want to see a band called Motormouth--NYE or whenever--can ya really blame me? For some reason this NYE was just..... I guess it's because it fell on a Saturday and I'm always going to shows on a Saturday, ya know? Like, big deal, I'm going to a club to see a bunch of bands. Big surprise, big whoop.

I forgot to look nice. Maybe that's why. I got on the F, away from the person under a blanket, and there was a couple across from me looking spiffy. I wore my boots for some reason, even though the wet weather had subsided. I figured it could start up again and I had my sneakers in my bag. Really smart, huh? A group of men get on and occupy the 3-seater across from the person under the blanket, oblivious to the fact that someone has made the F train his bed. One of them starts going on loudly about his encounter with a "Chinese bitch," earning him dirty looks from the Asians nearby and the man under the blanket stirs, like how dare these guys interrupt his sleep. On the subway. A few stops later a woman gets on and when the train starts up again, she stumbles back, lands on a man's lap, and then goes backward across his lap, fishnet-clad legs in the air. Classic. This cracks everyone up and the man under the blanket mutters "Jesus! Holy Jesus!" "Happy New Year!" the woman slurs as she stumbles off the train. She'll probably be "the fat bitch" in the retelling.

People were hanging out the door at Spike Hill as I began the long trudge down Bedford Ave. It's like St. Pat's all over again only without warm weather waiting in the wings. Why did I wear my boots again? When I got to Trash I was completely winded. Had a gagging, hacking cough. Maybe it's the boots. I feel like it takes more effort to walk with them on. Then I've got to be the most out-of-shape person ever. I sat there gagging and sputtering until doors. What is it about Williamsburg and me? They had Comedy Central on at the bar. There was a commercial for a CD called "Buzz Ballads." Seriously. Bush's Glycerine, Better Than Ezra--their other song. Every song people bought those CDs for 10 years ago. And "Monster Ballads" with Cinderella. I guess this is why they made iPods.

This gig was the last stop on Tel Aviv rock band The Genders' tour. Yup, a rock band from Israel. "Happy fuckin' Hanukkah! Fuck New Year's Eve, it's the 7th nite of Hanukkah!" Their album is called Rockin' in Ramallah, full of rock songs about bombs in Tel Aviv, wanting to grow up to be a stoner, garage rocker Army Girl, and the threatened-to-play-but-they-didn't Mammary Glands--"All the hot mamas they be having a ball/Struttin their stuff just west of the wall." A cover of a song "by a fellow Jew"--Joey Ramone. In their wink-wink nudge-nudge "Fuck You We're The Genders" they promise to "put the man in Maneschevitz" and "the balls in matzoh ball soup," driving home the intentions mentioned in their liner notes: "Pure entertainment to keep your mind off the shit that's going down right under your nose."

I was curious about The Choke because, well, their fliers are all over LES lampposts so I wanted to know what was what. When their petite singer, Cameron, got onstage in her pleated skirt, striped, V-neck top, and boots I thought: Now she wants to be our dog. It's Jonny Napalm's latest band, supposedly garage rock but nothing special. The songs were all an indistinguishable lump though (they say) they're influenced by the Ronettes, Avengers, Voidoids, Pretenders, Shangri-La's, etc. And Cameron needs to figure out what to do with her hands while she sings because she kept holding her hand up, as in Talk to the hand! (I guess that's where I should be directing my opinions--or "Stop! In The Name Of Love" since they claim to be garage/soul and have Motown influences) and shaking her hands nonstop like she just hit her funnybone. Probably she was just emoting.

While The Everyothers were setting up I sat down on the couch, head back at times and staring at the disco ball, trying to concentrate on the circles of light reflected off of it because I needed something to do, and J Bomb and Del Cheetah sat down on either side of me for some reason. They introduced themselves and Del told me that J recognized me from their previous shows. (Yeah, probably because I was sitting on their gear because my back was bothering me and they needed to load it onstage and J told me I can't sit there.) How did I find out about the show, they asked? Uh, it was on the Trash website. (Maybe I should've said I'm on Myspace and always leaving them love notes and whatnot, or saw it on their official website.) Who did you come to see? You guys. Aren't you always taking pictures? I held up the camera around my neck and take it off and then J said, "Take a picture of us." Before I could get up so J and Del can scoot closer, Del takes my camera. He tries to find the viewfinder--yeah, it's a bitch; I know--and while he's getting ready to take a picture of me and J, I can't help but wonder if they plan to humiliate me somehow. I mean, why are they talking to me in the 1st place, ya know? And then J offers to take a picture of me and Del. But it's NYE, afterall; they're drunk and it's good PR, and so much for Miller being the champagne of beers because that's the way I felt. So then they get up to leave and J said that they just wanted to say hi and introduce themselves. Weird. Well, they do have another gig coming up.

The Everyothers are total glam rock though claiming to have punk influences and Owen McCarthy total Bowie, down to his black suit, hat, and eyeliner. At least they know how to rock out and perform, right down to the cover of Substitute and Ground Control to Major Tom. Made me think that it was kinda nice, in a way, to have every decade represented on NYE. So then there was the big countdown while the Sex Slaves set up and after, the Slaves continued for another 15 mins. at least. "This is ridiculous!" complains the girl next to me. "They should've had everything ready first!" 06 is already looking a lot like 05. Except everyone there had to smoke in the new year.

The Sex Slaves have promo cards that say Don't miss the infamous Sex Slaves live shows!! and I had to wonder what the hell they were talking about because I've seen their live shows and I don't know what the hell they're talking about. The Slaves go on in a blaze of glory with We're Going Out Tonight, all glam rock and this incredible, big sound that just blows the walls off the club because you'd expect to hear it in a bigger venue. The girl next to me commented that their first gig was a joke. I can see that, because they strike me as what Satanicide would be if they started off seriously--or seriously for Satanicide, especially with anthems like All Night Long ("I just wanna fuck you all nite long) and Thank God For Jack Daniels, Eric 13 passing the bottle around. So what's the big deal about their live shows? That time it was Pink Snow, and let's just leave it at that. I can't believe I've only seen the Slaves at all-ages shows and this is my 1st 21+ show--not like I've been missing Pink, but I could've sworn I saw them at a late show so I didn't know what they meant by infamous live shows. And it's not like I need A/A shows. (Actually it was w/Cheetah Chrome, which was 18+.) Earlier in the set that stupid Lisa Lightning chick shoves in out of nowhere, earning her "what the fuck?" looks from those who've been standing there already. She makes her way up front, then pushes thru the crowd to the side and then starts her, uh, interpretive dance, complete with kicks in the air. Frank Wood was there, but w/o Fillipe de Buckette. With Pink climbing onstage (and Frank Wood cheering) and all the smoking and crowding my throat felt all weird. After their set I had to sit down while they encored. It felt like I was trying to breathe underwater but I had no gills. My neck was straining as I used my inhaler. They encore with Where Eagles Dare and it gets raucous, with Eric jumping into the crowd. I get my second wind and get up to try to take pix but I'm crowded out. Eric says, "Here, hold this," and I take the microphone, thinking he's going to take off or move his guitar and then ask for it back but I end up holding it for Eric thru the whole song the best I could, singing into it at some points, aware a camera has gone off, thinking that now I'm going to have to go to their next show.

After the show I'm on line for the bathroom, more to check that I haven't suffered any brain damage from the asthma attack than I really had to go. A man stumbles past and says something to me. I still have my earplugs in and the DJ has started up in the back, so I ask him to repeat himself. A few times. He wishes me a happy new year and he squeezes my hands as he says this and tells me how bad 05 was and he hopes 06 is better for us. The Slaves had made some comment that you can be yourself on NYE, any other nite you're just a drunk. Well, NYE and St.P. Music was blaring from some club or apartment as I walked back toward Bedford, past the cases of empties. Right before the corner of Grand and Bedford is two guys who are vertical and one horizontal. I hope the guys know the person on the floor and they just haven't come across him, cause I don't want to get involved. The vertical guys mention getting a cab while the horizontal guy says, "I just want to get my dick sucked." Well, good luck with that. Clusters of revelers on Bedford are staking out the next party, the car service office is mobbed, and I get to the L and feel a breeze on my face even upstairs, but get down there just in time for the train doors to close on me. Again, 06 is looking a lot like 05. Shotglass necklaces and beads. A fratboy type in a red sequined top hat. At 65th Street a guy asks me how much longer it is to Bainbridge. Or maybe he said Bay Ridge. Either way, he was headed in the wrong direction and I told him to transfer back at Jackson Heights because it was free, but he got off at 65th instead. Back at my station a couple gets off ahead of me and the girl takes her heels off and walks out of the station barefoot.

Admitting It Is The 1st Step

Hi, my name is Heather and I have a problem.

The Price Of Admission, 2005

1. Wreckless Eric/Bonfire Madigan//Tap Bar//$8
2. The Assault/Madison/Northern State//Rothko//$13
3. Fabulous Entourage//Arlene’s//$7
4. Riverboat Gamblers/Hot Water Music/Flogging Molly//Spirit Center//$33.50
5. God Is My Co-Pilot/King Missile//Knit//$10
6. Dirty Mary/Old Money/Satanicide/Upper Crust//N6//$13
7. Battery/Color Guard/Twats//Siberia//$5
8. Group Sounds/Louis XIV/Hot Hot Heat//Bowery Ballroom//$15
9. Ambulence, Ltd./VHS or Beta//Bowery Ballroom//$14
10. Spunk Lads/Pussycat Lounge//$5
11. Joe Hurley’s 6th Annual All-Star Irish Rock Revue//Knit//$20
12. World War IX/Battletorn/Guns.Fire.Mayhem//ABC No Rio//$6
13. Agents Of Karma (Jay Kavanaugh’s band)//$7
14. Babyshakes/Trakes/Cobra Verde/Undertones//Southpaw//$19.08
15. Icepick/H2O/Dropkick Murphys//Irving//$22.50
16. Xtatika/Metermaids//Sin-e//$8
17. RSO/Unloveables/Bullets And Octane/Queers//Pratt Student Union//$5
18. Loser’s Lounge Tribute To Queen//Bowery Ballroom//$17
19. Gaijin A-Go-go/Les Sans Culottes//Piano’s//$8
20. Thieves/Some Action/Peelander-Z/Electric Eel Shock//Merc//$8
21. The Walkup/Bon Savants/Go Station//Don Hill’s//$5
22. Joe Hurley and the Gents//Joe’s Pub//$18.03
23. NYC Smoke/Burning Brides/New York Dolls//Irving//$35
24. Deck Of Jack/Gym Glass Heroes/Northern State//Knitting Factory//$10
25. Patina/Robert Skoro/Go Betweens//Southpaw//$19.08
26. Phenomenauts/Epoxies/Aquabats//BB Kings//$14
27. Contramano/Rasputina//Southpaw//$19.08
28. Poparoxi/Pretty Flowers/Hoy//Rare/$5
29. WLWL/Folk Fiction/She Wolves//Lit//$5
30. Anabolics/Secret Cervix/Priscillas/Scream & Scream Again/Quarerslot//Trash//$8
31. Tiger! Tiger!/Priscillas/High School Sweethearts/Ribeye Bros.// Woggles//Maxwells//$8
32. Stephen Kellogg/Dan Bern//Maxwells//$18
33. The Ratchets/The Saints//Maxwell’s//$13
34. Captured! By Robots//Tribeca//$10
35. S.M.U.T./Lady Unluck/Trashlight Vision/Sex Slaves/Test Specimen//Continental/$10
36. Seanchai/.Rocky’s//$5
37. Boyjazz/Heroin Shieks//Pianos//$12.50
38. NYCity Sin IV//Main Space & Tap Bar//$5
39. BOS/Spunks/Dirty Pillows/Guns On Hi St./Sex Slaves/Cheetah Chrome/Cont’l//$10
40. A Thousand Vendettas/Dove//Rothko//$10
41. J-Live/Masauko/Digable Planets//Irving//$27.50
42. Slaughterhouse Four/Steinways/Dirtbike Annie/Spazzys//Desmond’s//$7
43. The Straphangers/Eyes Of Hate/Common Enemy/The Truents//ABC No Rio//$6
44. Superspecs/No Name Charlies/DGW/Whole Wheat Bread/Big D & The Kids Table Continental//$10
45. Cut The Wires/Group Sounds/The Octagon//Sin-e//$13
46. DC Snipers/Human Eye/Gizmos/Los Reactors//Southpaw//$21.43
47. Seanchai//Rocky’s//$5
48. Leslie & the Lys/Rene Risque/Satanicide/Upper Crust/Bowery Ballroom//$15
49. Andrew Goodsight’s Musichead//Ace Of Clubs//$5
50. Mary Prankster//CB313//$8
51. Blackout Shoppers/Shaveks//Adicts//Continental//$19.06
52. Domestics/Vitamen/Marianne Pillsburys/Johnny 5//Sin-e//$8
53. Superfortress/Mixel Pixel/PSK/Freezepop//Rare//$9.50
54. Teedo/Mount Misery//Delancey//$7
55. French Doors/Dark Holler/BreakerBreaker/Direct From Hollywood Cemetary/Measels Mumps Rubella//$10//Rare
56. Kevin Blechdom/Chicks On Speed//Knitting Factory//$20
57. Mistakes/Cologne/33Hz/Trick and the Heartstrings//Pianos//$10
58. Les Prostiputes/The Fux/ICU//Trash//$8
59. O’Haste Annihilation/Intro5pect/The Profits/Citizen Fish//ABC No Rio//$6
60. Q and not U//Knit//$12
61. Gene Dreamy, Gary Sincere, & the Pets/Notekillers/Enon//Merc//$10
62. Happy Ending/Color Guard//CakeShop//$5
63. Dougie Needles/Guns On High St./Alphabet City//Arlene’s//$7
64. The Dents/F-Units/Hello Nurse/Hoy//Sin-e//$10
65. Andy D/Black Peter/Witnesses/Pumpsta/Phiilliip/Mr. Move/Avenue D//Club Exit//$5
66. Threads/Pank Shovel/Diamonds Under Fire//Sin-e//$8
67. Firebird Band/Rasputina//Maxwell’s//$13
68. Trakes/Prozacs/Unloveables/41 Gorgeous Blocks/Darlington/Johnie 3/Dead City Rejects//Continental//$5
69. Faun Fables/Devotchka/Dresden Dolls//Webster Hall//$20
70. Rockin’ 69s/Pitchfork Militia/Jesse Jaymz/World Famous Crawlspace Bros/BOS// Trash//$5
71. Malkovich/Demander/Shellshag//Lit//$7
72. Brain Failure/River City Rebels/Street Dogs//Continental//$16.25
73. Clit 45/Briefs//Continental//$16.20
74. Face Tomorrow/Blow Up Hollywood/Looker/Tralala/The Teeth//Ace Of Clubs//$10
75. La Laque/Dansettes/Les Sans Culottes//Knit//$8
76. Liza & Wonderwheels/Somos Demonios//Underscore//$5
77. Seanchai//Rocky’s//$5
78. Modrocket//Arlene’s//$7
79. Unloveables/Dollyrots/Helper Monkeys/Groovie Ghoulies//Tap Bar//$8
80. Violent Affair/Prince Hal Show/Test Specimen/Sex Slaves/Infidels//Cont'l//$10
81. The Pill/WWIX//Trash Bar//$8
82. The Emeralds/Portugal Japan/Phenomenauts/Peelander-Z//Knit//$10
83. Charms//Tap Bar//$8
84. Somos Demonios//Pussycat Lounge//$8
85. Leslie & The Lys/Peelander-Z/Satanicide//Merc//$12
86. Seanchai//Rocky’s//$5
87. Death Mold//Sin-e//$8
88. Peter & the Pansexuals/Dougie Needles//Trash//$5
89. LeeVees//Bowery Ballroom//$15
90. Mary Prankster//Old Office//$8
91. Tangiers/Doubles/Pretty Girls Make Graves//Knit//$12
92. The Negatones//Sin-e//$10
93. Lady Unluck/Dougie Needles//Continental//$7
94. Schaffer The Darklord/Captured! By Robots//Tribeca//$12
95. Al Of Hate Tribute//Niki & Sam’s//$10
96. Joe Hurley//Cutting Room//$10
97. Due Tomorrow/Bottlerocket/Delegates/The Killtakers//ABC No Rio//$6
98. Stylofone/Giraffes/Living Things/Diamond Nights/Bowery Ballroom//$13
99. Han Shot First/More/Valeze/ism/Quarterslot//The Delancey//$4
100. Indie Music Video Fest + Theo & the Skyscrapers//Pianos//$10
101. Bedsit Poets//Merc//$8
102. Hard-Fi//Bowery Ballroom//$13
103. Loafass/Tuff Jeff Salen Band/Threads/Waldos//Continental//$5
104. Joey Ramone’s Xmas Show//Continental//$2
105. Bona Roba/Treasures of the Sea/Mooney Suzuki//Sin-e//$13
106. The Genders/The Choke/The Everyothers/The Sex Slaves//Trash//$8

I don't want to tell you what the mere thought of totalling this did to my stomach. But I did. Yes, this is over $1000 (and the higher it climbed, I did feel some pride) providing that I didn't miss anything. And not counting benefit shows, donations, CDs, pins, and stickers. Obviously, I wasn't expecting the $100 rent increase. So I spent more than a month's rent on shows. More than a month's rent in 06 in shows. I could've paid bills. Given some to charity. Taken Oreo to the vet. If I calculated it right, bought 14 unlimited Metrocards. Developed film, instead of buying it. Cleaned my apartment, if I were home. Cleaned my apartment if I weren't writing about shows. Exercised. Slept.

Mantras for the new year:
I am not in a band.
I am not a writer.
I am not a reporter.
I am not a photographer.
I am not a part of any music scene.
I am not the next Tricia Romano.
I do not have a job in music.
Seeing a band repeatedly doesn't mean I'm friends with anyone in the band, so I am not letting the band down by not going to the show.

I mean, I know all that. Or I should. It's just that sometimes I tend to get a bit carried away and self-absorbed. Hey, I'm only human. And a Leo at that. After all, at a couple of times I have, in the past, pretty much convinced myself of the opposite of the above. There are other things I'm knowledgeable of besides music. It's just that I don't know what those things are yet.