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.
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.
posted by heather @ 9:42 PM
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