I Had To Ask.

I was waiting for the train at Times Square yesterday evening when a homeless woman, obviously not skilled in the fine art of panhandling, approached me and told me I was fat.

She kept up this rant for quite a while, with me trying hard to stare at the tiles on the tunnel wall and biting back obvious observations, such as the fact that she's a bum, only has 4 teeth (if you could call them that), others are fatter than me, she looks fatter than me, and if she thinks I'm fat because my life is miserable (actually, she's right about that) and I turn to food, well, you're a homeless person picking on me so it's more than obvious whose life really is miserable. (Ok, I was eating a Twix when this happened, but I can't remember the last time I had one. I was debating on whether or not to mention that because her tirade was still uncalled for, but I don't want to be the recipient of any undue sympathy. I know that in the age of Nick Sylvester and James Frey that factoid doesn't really matter, but I still believe in honesty. Yeah, thinking someone might be sympathetic to me in the 1st place is pretty conceited, but oh well.)

I was trying so hard not to take the bait and tell her off--or deck her. Choice 2 was really looking good to me. And she kept it up, how I'm a beautiful girl (actually, I'm pretty on the inside) but betraying that beauty by being fat, I look like a donut (Mmm, donuts. Well, that's not what I thought at the time but that's expected from someone with an extensive Simpsons background such as mine). I was still running through every comeback in my head, telling myself not to listen to a crazy woman, wondering when the fuck the train--any train at this point--would come, and trying to ignore her altogether all at the same so I didn't hear how she came to the conclusion that I'm a stripper. She made a few more comments about my being a stripper and then turned around and went to retrieve her rolling suitcases, one with a front pocket unzipped to reveal the newspapers inside.

She comes back to me and goes off on me for standing in her way when she's trying to get by, even though the whole rest of the platform wasn't crowded. By this time another woman was standing next to me, rolling her eyes and looking uncomfortable and bored because a bum was in her vicinity. The bum explains to her how I'm blocking her and she keeps up the eyerolling until the bum passes. She gives a shudder, as if she was the one inconvenienced by that episode, and I tell her, "You really haven't lived in New York City until a bum tells you how fat you are."

She replies with an eyeroll. Great, 2 crazy people talked to me today.

Her train comes first and I'm left alone on the platform, ready to cry. You're going to let a homeless person's comments get to you?

I know, I know: Big girls don't cry. Yeah, well. What can I say. You would cry, too, if it happened to you.

Perhaps to cheer myself up over the fact that my nose is running and I have no tissues and I'm wiping my nose with my hands and then having to touch poles on the subway and everybody's looking at me because I'm adding something obviously gross to the poles that others touch, I pride myself on not decking the bum. Can you imagine her going to the cops and me explaining, Well, she started it. No matter how justified I'd be in knocking those 4 teeth down her throat, a cop would just give me the stern you-should've-known-better face and fine me for aggravated assault, which I cannot afford to pay. I tell myself that even if I were skinny, the bum would've gone off about that, too. How unhealthy I look, kids are starving in wherever kids are starving today, and how she can't afford food so why do I want to look skinny.

Still and all, though, I'm glad I got the complaints about my looks out of the way early in the evening so I didn't have to call my mom last nite. I know I overreacted to the bum's comments because I'm too sensitive and take everything personally. But that's what I do, after all. I take love criticism and turn it around and make it an attack when I should be grateful that somebody wants to help me.

I Am Not Making This Up....

I got in at 1:20 this morning. I went to find a box of tissues to bring to work and for some reason I thought there might be one under the pile of plastic shopping bags behind my kitchen chair. Who knows. Anything's possible, right? I bent down to look and find a scrap ripped out from the Voice Choices, venue-side up. Hmm, maybe it's something important. Dougie Needles @ Arlene's. I flip it over. Why am I saving this scrap of paper, and what is it doing behind my chair?

It's Switzy's Spunk Lads review, for their Southpaw gig.

This is a sign.
Knowing my luck, it is not a good sign.

Well, of course not. That's the gig where my toe got fucked up. But if I wasn't looking for the tissues the review could've gotten lost or thrown out or messed up.

Still, I went to bed with my eyes watery and tearing over from my allergies.

I woke up before the alarm went off and my watch was missing. Either I took my watch off in my sleep, or I toss and turn so much that the end of the band slipped out of the holder and unbuckled itself. I went back to sleep, the alarm went off, I went back to sleep, noticed it was late, went back to sleep, and got up at 8:25. Fucking non-drowsy allergy medication. I felt like I could go back to sleep at any second and couldn't sleep on the subway, probably because I couldn't get my favorite seat. Walking down 28th, a woman heading east was carrying a big vase of flowers in front of her face and I had to move closer to the shops, out of her way.

"I had to identify the body and sign some papers...." said one of the workers standing in front of the store to the other.

So hopefully oversleeping is it for my bad luck for now, and I don't have any other whammies coming down the pike.

Nothin' but blue skies from now on.

Partyline, Call Me Call Me Any Day Or Night

Panther/Shellshag/Cortina/Partyline/Direct From Hollywood Cemetary
@ Cakeshop 3/25/06

Of course Partyline's only NYC date was the 25th and I had it on my calendar for the longest--what was that about things working out for me? Of course Neck played the Shite & Onions gig @ Sin-e that same nite. Oh yeah, and The Ruffians. But I don't have $12 for such stuff anymore. I think I passed one of the guys from Neck on the way over. He definitely looked the part and he was standing outside of Katz's and when I walked past he said, "Hey, how are you?" I looked around quickly and there wasn't anybody else on the street. Maybe he had me confused with someone else. Or maybe I did. So I said hey, howz it goin, getting to Cakeshop and feeling busted. But the listing @ Cakeshop had Partyline as 3rd, so maybe I could make it after all. But Direct From Hollywood Cemetary!

Upstairs at Cakeshop is not a good place to loiter b4 a show. I was drooling over all the cakes (not literally) when the woman behind the counter caught me asked what she could get me. I compromised with a Rocky Road brownie (only $3). I was eating it downstairs when someone told me that I had to pay upstairs and they weren't open yet. But upstairs is where all the cake is. I have a feeling that the gigs that are listed (when they are listed, their typo-strewn show listing says to check out their MySp page for the complete listing but fails to give the link; maybe they think this is cute or they're trying to keep a select clientele or a secret show vibe, I think it's annoying and unprofessional) with bands listed 1st, 2nd, etc, the bands start when they feel like it and the shows that have actual times given, they adhere to that. But I was downstairs climbing the walls listening to whatever CD they had on; it was some guy doing spoken word with a drummer and it sounded very collegiate, like students trying to be Beat, and it made me all agitated sitting there in a dark basement, waiting impatiently for something to happen.

Finally Panther started @ 9:30 or so. Panther is Atom & His Package but with an iPod, no guitar, and no songs, per se. He cued up his 'Pod, which played synth beats and 80s whiteboy rap loops. He sang and danced, dropped to his knees and cowered, and showed off his buttcrack. People grinned moronically. I clapped politely. What can I say, I just wasn't feeling it. What the hell do I know, this guy is probably going to be the next Arctic Donkeys and I'm just old. If anything, I can see him doing this late at nite at some loft party after everyone's had enough to drink and smoke and someone tells him, "Hey, do that thing where you're Panther!" "You should totally do that!" Brownie=1; Bands=0.

At least Cakeshop managed to do something right since I was last there in August. They built a stage. See, that's one of the worst places to see a show and pretty much no band is worth putting up with that place. It's not enough to be in the almighty Cakeshop, on Ludlow. Aside from the hipster vibe and the we'll start playing when we damn well feel like it, the only thing that used to separate the crowd from the band were the microphone stands. Now when you stood on the incline of the sloped floor, it's like you're in a venue as opposed to the basement of a bakery/record store that just happens to have a bar and live music. It's still narrow, so there wasn't much room for Jen to bring her cymbals into the audience but a real-enough venue so that Shellshag was still enjoyable. (There's a full writeup in the archives--wow, that makes me sound like a real blogger or something--for CMJ.) Ev had a pin on his jacket that said Don't Postpone Joy. The perfect motto for this band.

Cortina did go on 3rd, but then again even if Partyline went next I still don't have another $12 to spend for Neck and The Ruffians. Cortina is from New Zealand and I guess they didn't have much of a chance to wash their clothes along the way because they were quite funky, and I'm not referring to the music. There was a guy videotaping, and he also smelled quite ripe as he stood right in front of me thru the whole set. I also didn't get what they were going for, lookwise, because Ace was in a leopard-print plelvet animal suit, Bek in a bathing suit with leopard-print tights under it, which did not go with the bathing suit, and Dreamboy dressed normally. The music wasn't that bad, dance rock with keybs and all. I just didn't get the fashion statements.

A substantial crowd has gathered by that point; the girl behind me had a pirate Krusty The Clown tattoo on one shoulder, little Jay Shermans floating around, a cupcake, and a big Howard The Duck on the other. I don't know what statement she was trying to make with both The Critic and Howard The Duck on the same shoulder--I'm a study in contradictions, perhaps? Though I've never seen a Howard The Duck tattoo before. "My mom cried," she told me. "I saw Howard The Duck" I said by way of consolation. Though I actually meant I saw it in the theatre when it 1st came out. "It's a good movie," she said. Another girl had a cupcake tattooed behind her ear.

Alison came onstage and went to the edge--"So I can see where I'm going to fall." Partyline is more of a straight-up rock band as opposed to Bratmobile's primitive riot-grrrl punk beats. Angela and Crystal are good musicians, holding down guitar and drums respectively, allowing Alison to go off on her tangential banter. By the 2nd song she was asking where the afterparty was. Every so often she asked how late they were and skipped songs. She's still doing the kicks and splits, but thankfully didn't kick me in the face.

You gotta hand it to Direct From Hollywood Cemetary, performing in their full costumes and capes in that sweaty, humid place. My nasal passages were burning. Like Horrorpops w/o upright bass, they'd be good with the Ghoulies and the H-pops, and not just because they also have a song where they spell things out.

It wasn't until I was waiting for the subway did I realize that someone hocked a giant lugie onto my coat. Jeez. Spit on the floor, not my coat. I was planning on bringing it to the cleaners at some point, I was just waiting for it to be springtime officially. But I could go sooner. Thanx for the suggestion.

Monsters, Inc.

Horrorpops @ Maxwell's
The Mercykillers/Hypnotwists/Misteriosos/Von Ghouls//Otto's//3/18/06

Sometimes, tho, things do work out for me. I got the H-pops ticket b4 the full bill @ Otto's was posted. The Misteriosos were also playing Pianos and Sin-e, but this one was free. So I knew I was going there after the 'pops. I wanted to see the Horrorpops more out of curiosity. I almost considered going to see the Dropkicks so's I could see the 'pops as well. But the H-pops are playing w/the Briefs in April, at the Knit, and I'm sure I'm not going to see anything there. If it ends up being a pit, it won't be a big deal if I head to the balcony since I'm more interested in the Briefs. And it was only $10 and I thought there'd be opening acts added that could be cool. There weren't any opening acts, though.

I figured the day would be shot, what with the show being in Hoboken in the 1st place and early, at 5:30. (Which is why I was figuring on some opening acts that I can maybe get into. Or make fun of.) Still, I was up early enough to throw in a load of laundry and up late enough to worry that I was pushing it, because I still needed to secure film. I haven't been to Maxwell's since CMJ, which is why I was referring to this weekend as my own CMJ, but with better bands. I ran to the Duane Reade @ Continental to get the film because 1) I can't stand it when drugstores keep film behind the registers, and 2) I was working my way toward a $5 coupon and if I'm going to keep buying film like crazy, I want to at least get something out of it. The lines were out the door and then the F went local thru Queens. I just had to do the laundry, didn't I? I just couldn't wait until Sunday, right? Still, I made it to the PATH in record time, remembering how I used to feel all sneaky when I 1st started going there, thinking, I'm going to another state to see a show. And I still needed to eat, lest I end up standing in a mosh pit and starving. I bypassed every deli on my way up Washington, telling myself the next one is it because I'm going to run out of opportunities. There's a pizza place a little past Maxwell's and I figured on that, because at least I'd be there already. But Washington St. had an equal mix of stores that were doing good and places closed down. Thankfully the pizza place is still open and as I waited for my slice, I looked in the mirror behind the counter and noticed the deep grooves under my eyes. Like dents. Not even concealor helps. Sheesh.

It was about 5:20 when I went in and there was nobody there. Well, I knew that doors weren't going to be exactly at 5:30, but I figured on thereabouts. A brawler of a guy, in this year's DKM shirt, arrives, smoking and holding a beer. Two women, one in a DKM shirt, are next. A punk kid in creepers and her mom. Ha, and I got my laundry out of the way. Nate said doors weren't going to be for a while, and no opening acts. One woman points out that the tix say 5:30 doors, show @ 6. "Yeah, tickets say a lot of things," Nate points out sympathetically. The woman announces that she's going in @ 6. Good luck to ya. I go outside to pick up a Press and hang up my coat. There are signs on the door that no one's allowed in except for bands and staff because there's still a soundcheck going on and the venue isn't open. Whaddaya know, that woman tried to go in @ 6 and was turned away. Ok, Misteriosos on @ 10. I can still make it. And there was a late show @ Maxwell's so it would wrap up early, meaning they had to let us in early. I was reading Knipfel's column about being trapped in an elevator and I was wondering if it was our office building he was referring to.

I had a paragraph to go when we were let in and I put the paper down on the stage, went to check out the merch table, and when I came back, Patricia asked me if the paper was interesting. And then she picked it up and took it with her. Bitch. I was reading that. Oh, wait. Oh my Gawd! A band member took my newspaper! I'm not worthy! I kinda figured that Horrorpops is a rockabilly Groovie Ghoulies with upright bass. The guy from Tiger Army is also in Horrorpops, playing guitar. Not that I follow Tiger Army, but I remember him straddling his upright from when TA opened up for Rancid.
Two guys in Maxwell's Ts stand right up front, the guy next to me smoking. Bounders? There's actually bouncers here? Phew. Gahd, I'm old. But, ahhh. Right up front, I can take pix, and I won't get my ass kicked. To my right was the girl who was there w/her mom and the rest of her bandmates; one guy couldn't've been more than 16, his hair sprayed in an ozone-destroying, clumpy style to the point where you could actually see the dried spray on it. But when it comes to Danish band H-pops, the answer is always "Hell Yeah!"--the title of their 1st album. "Are you ready?" "Do you need some lovin?" "Are you ready to dance?" To which the audience replies Hell Yeah until they're convinced. In addition to Geoff from Tiger Army, the band consists of Nekroman, from the Nekromantix, and 2 SuicideGirls-lookin backup dancers in skeleton dresses, holding fans and other props, like heart-shaped pillows and toy guns. Damn, I've gots to get me a job like theirs. Well, if not their jobs (because I can't afford all the tattoos and piercings) then at least the dress. Patricia, of the Bettie Page hair, rocks the upright bass in stilettos. So if I was thinking that Horrorpops is just Groovie Ghoulies but w/upright bass, the band sure didn't do anything to dispell that notion or prove that they're anything more. They weren't terrible, but I have the feeling that if I saw them @ Nokia w/DKM, from the vantage point of the mezzanine balcony, I would've thought they were better than they were. On a stage like @ Nokia, in a theatre such as that, watching all their fans running around, I would've had a much different reaction to them, mistaking distance for perspective. But I can see why they toured w/DKM. It makes for a good pairing because both bands have a similar approach to their music. Both work from the outside in instead of the other way around, which is how it should be.
(What can I say, I didn't want to change film as soon as the band started and <----this was the last shot on the roll.) They also have a song where you spell out the band name, which makes me wonder what it is with these schtick bands and spelling things out in song. The other thing to know is "Bring It On!" Their latest album. "Do you want to hear some new songs?" Bring it on! In case we need help, that's tattooed on Nekroman's arm. He's got coffin-shaped instruments tattooed on his neck and Geoff has a big bat tattooed on his throat, which is how I recognized him because it looked familiar. Their ska numbers didn't get much of a pit going, because of how small the place is, and how crowded. They also didn't do much of an encore, leaving one girl yelling for Julia, which was down as an encore. "I did all this work and no Julia?"

The walk down Washington seemed to go quicker. On the PATH was a group of girls on the make, heading into the city in jeans and stilettos and too much perfume. As soon as we hit 14th I got right on the L over to 1st Ave, hoping Otto's was still standing. Not having access to a computer for so long, I forgot who exactly was on the bill early on. When I saw the sign in the window I thought, Sigh, Mercykillers, whatev. But they were better than I remembered, much more shreddier. I couldn't believe it. Maybe I was tired the last time they played there, or they were. (It was a Tuesday, like 10:30 or so that they went on. Maybe 11:30.) But not everybody was as happy as me. One guy yelled, "You suck! I'm outta here!" Maybe it was friendly heckling and he really knew them and was just joking. I finally got a seat and the guy at the table asked me who the band is. He explained that he's on vacation from Canada and just happened to wander in and the band made him stay. It was just the kind of music he came to NYC to hear. Though he said NYC is boring and he expected more freaks. Hypnotwist (man, was it was a lineup of bands with great names or what?) is really tight garage rock, perhaps why I felt kinda let down by The Misteriosos. I don't know why, but I was expecting all instro/surf music. They were kinda languid garage w/keyboard and vocals. Canada Guy pointed out that the artwork on the side of the drums is Canadian. He also asked me to recommend some places nearby. I said Manitoba's. "Manitoba! That's in Canada!" I tried to explain, but he couldn't get past the Handsome Dick part. I don't know why, but I was kinda expecting ghouls in Von Ghouls. What can I say? Per'aps it had to do with coming from the Horrorpops. Though if there were ghouls, maybe I would've turned up my nose at that, like, sheesh, another schtick band.

After the bands was pirate kareoke, which is why I assumed the woman who came in toward the end of the Von Ghouls' set was holding cables or wires or something. I didn't realize that the white coils in her hands were actually the fingernails on her hands. She sat in the back and I tried not to stare, but holy crap. Too bad Canada Guy left, since he wanted to see some freaks to make his trip worthwhile. Maybe they're fake and that's her thing when she goes out, she puts the nails on. But how do you go to the bathroom like that? I mean, seriously.

Who Loves Ya, Baby?!

The Itinerants, Joe Hurley & the Gents
The 7th Annual All-Star Irish Rock Revue
The Bowery Ballroom, 3/17/06

When else can you get Rogues, Gents, Dolls, Dictators, She Wolves, Everyothers, Sick Fucks, Broadway stars, Losers, and Used Country Females on one stage singing songs by Thin Lizzy, The Undertones, Stiff Little Fingers, The Pogues, Boomtown Rats, and Elvis Costello--as well as protest songs and trad numbers--but the Annual All-Star Irish Rock Review? (It's a good thing that a lot of artists from previous revues come back every year--and I got the pix from last year developed--so I can have photos for this.)

Shortly after I got the ticket did I find out about Blotto @ Otto's. Of course. See, I thought they should've had a show on the 19th and send the weekend out with a bang. I waited for as long as I could before securing the ticket, but then again this is all Joe's fault because the Rock Revue is usually the week before and this time it's on the night of. And people say cloning is a bad thing? Too many shows, too little me. Though at the Rock Revue launch party/listening party for Whiskey in the Jar--Essential Irish Drinking Songs And Singalongs (featuring Amsterdam Mistress, by our own dear Rogues March) I found out that the show is being taped for a DVD, so it's good that I get a chance to reprise the role I've perfected: fangirl up front who knows all the words and is taking pix. Yeah, an Xmas song on a CD such as that may seem odd, but as Joe is fond of pointing out, this is the closest we've been to Xmas all year. He's also fond of pointing out that he never did like that dog anyway during Irish Rover. The party was full of enough regulars so that I shouldn't've been the only one yelling it, but Joe said, "What was that?" "I...never liked that dog anyway?" "Thanks for that human teleprompter." And the whole bar cracked up. They were laughing near me, not at me.

On Friday I woke up with my sinuses feeling stuffy from the humidity @ Rocky's and my throat hurting from my irritated sinuses--and all the singing. I think only I can manage to be such a wreck on St. Pat's; usually it's my back, and with all the running around in the cold weather. The show wasn't sold out and I knew I wouldn't have to sweat it, but I still did. I got a ride in and traffic was killer over the QB Bridge. Down 2nd Ave, where bars were a mob scene outside and lines snaked around the block. I wondered if the traffic was held up because everybody was rubbernecking to watch the people outside, or looking for the place with the shortest line to turn off at. We got there @ 10 after 7 and Pat was supposed to be on @ 7:15 so I was thinking doors were @ 6, even tho the tix said 8. There was no line. Downstairs, I kept an eye on the door as I talked to people and when I went to use the bathroom, I couldn't help but feel that I was robbed of due process. Not that I enjoy waiting on line in the 20-degree weather for 2 hrs and then getting insulted by a bouncer, but if that's going to happen, it should happen. It's all in a night's work. And I didn't even see that asshole bouncer. Maybe they just get him in for soldout shows.

Marty introduced me to his friends as Joe's #1 fan and a big groupie. Normally I correct people because can't a gal just go to see bands if she doesn't have to, but he was really off the mark since I only started seeing Rogues March in 1999, which really doesn't count for squat. I felt bad for Pat that he didn't have much of a crowd, but figured it was going to be like that all nite. When Joe sang Desiree I started getting all sad, seeing them up there on the big-kid stage. Joe seems to be on the 2 albums every other decade plan, which hurts cause they're such a good band and Joe a brilliant lyricist and they've only played the Bowery Ballroom 2 other times--once, in 1999 as part of a local singers/songwriters showcase thing, and in 2001 with the Rock Revue. See, this is why it's a good thing I can't afford to drink when I'm at shows. Imagine how bummed out I'd get every time I saw a band I love and know they probably won't get there even tho they deserve to? But I sweated it all out jumping around to Shut Up and Drink, so I was good to go by Revue time and wouldn't be doing something typically me--dropping my good camera, loading film in incorrectly and thereby exposing a good portion of the roll, slipping in a beer puddle, using the incorrect flash setting, dancing crazy, bumping into others and hurting myself....Oh, wait. That's shit I do on a regular basis.

(Joe and Rock Revue cohost Ed Rogers, of Green Rooftops and the Bedsit Poets.) So since I didn't get a Revue setlist, nor did I take notes, and it's a week later, I'll just have to give highlights. I hope the DVD does see the light of day at some point because Joe's opening speech was great. Gibson guitars was one of this year's sponsors and they gave Joe a custom-made, Irish flag guitar. Standout performers were producer Don Fleming (Hole's Live Through This and Sonic Youth's Goo, which he sub-produced and sang on)--"So he should know something about sound!" quipped Rogers. Credentials which aren't for everyone, because even though his version of The Bogside Man was a stunner, one year when he did it at the Knit someone yelled, "That was shite!" Annie Golden from The Shirts, who joined Lisa Burns on Man You Don't Meet Every Day; Review newcomer Elias Khan, from Nervous Cabaret, with Dirty Old Town; Owen McCarthy of The Everyothers with Boys Are Back In Town; Ed Rogers w/Teenage Kicks, w/the full, electro backing band as opposed to the acoustic rendition he did at the party; the usually buttoned-down and serious Pat Robinson, former Rogue and current Itinerant, his band pass upside down on his shirt, with Sally MacLennan; Tammy Faye Starlite said that even though Marianne Faithfull isn't Irish, fuck it, she knows how to party, and did Ireland (insert joke here); Tish & Snooky on back up vocals and synchronized dancing, did Male Model. Joe's pogo classic (or maybe that was just me pogoing) Irish Rover and Revue closer God Save The Queen lead to a pit breaking out irregardless of the spilt beer on the floor. But I wish someone would do Alternative Ulster already.

So you're gonna have to wait for the DVD to come out to see what I'm talking about. Better yet, go to the show yerself next time.

Due to a parking ticket and me needing to photograph the evidence I ended up w/some pix from this year, which I was not expecting to have. So the last 4 are from this year. The pix are a pain in the ass to load up on the sly, so I didn't put that many up.

King Missle's John S. Hall wants to bite the hand that feeds him. He also finds it easy to stand like this because he has a detatchable penis. (This is what I get for being a wiseass and trying to jump the gun by working ahead: Hall changed his song choice. Still doing Declan McManus, but this year it's Chelsea.)

SNL bandleader Christine Ohlman sang Domino last year as well as this year.


Annie Golden usually wears that shirt for every Revue and I thought I could get away w/using the old pic of her & Lisa Burns singing Man You Don't Meet Every Day. She had to go change.

<---Ms. Tammy Faye Starlite wonders when Ireland will be free.
Donna She Wolf sez Here Comes The Summer.^^^^
The band takes their bows. Yeah, at 1:30 in the morning.

Let's Get This Party Started Right!

The 6th (or 7th) Annual Unrepentant Gathering//Rocky Sullivan's//3/16/06
Eire Og, Seanchai and the Unity Squad

They made a weekend of it, leading up to their opening stint for the Pogues, but everyone knows that the night to see Seanchai is 3/16. Re: the Pogues, Chris says they have potential and he predicts big things for them. And they did Straight To Hell, "for the member of the Pogues who won't be there." They haven't held an Unrepentant Gathering @ Rocky's since 2003, so I skipped Seanchai the week before in order to psych up for this one. I also didn't realize they were numbering 'em, and both #s were mentioned. Heard it was packed the Saturday before and I was told, "With all due respect, when it comes to followers of Seanchai you are an old woman. You don't fit in there." Please. With all due respect, I never fit in there.

I wanted to get there late enough that the show would've at least started by the time I got there but early enough that it wouldn't be packed. Oreo was letting me comb him, but at the 2nd hiss I knew when I was beaten. So I stayed to hear Hockey Monkey on The Loop and then I left. I guess I was more wound up for it than I thought, because my stomach was bothering me and I almost got off the train @ Woodhaven to go back. But at Woodhaven, a woman stood in the doorway and said, "Police! Get off the train!"

All of us? Now what?

But the woman in the 2-seater facing the door, across from me, says, "Me?"

"Yes, you," the undercover officer answers.

What?!

"You've got to be kidding me. What did I do?"

"Get off the train, ma'am, and I'll tell you."

On the platform is another undercover guy, a ticket pad in his hand. The maintanence crew continued changing the lights in the fixtures and didn't even turn around. All the while the woman in question kept up her string of disbelieving utterences. What the hell could she have done? "Ma'am, step away from the train and I'll tell you what you did."

I didn't mean to be nosey, but what the hell could this middle-age woman, who probably just got off work @ 8:30 at nite and was sitting there blotting her pizza, have done?

"You were taking up 2 seats on the train."

"Oh, I don't believe this. I never heard anything about this...."

OK, that's probably not the way to go since we've all heard about it. If it were me, I'd be cursing my head off. I gotta hand it to her, she seemed to keep her calm as the officer asked her for ID with her DOB on it and the other one prepared to write up the ticket. Thing is, I never saw the cops on the train. They were probably on the next car over, just waiting to bust someone. And I was sitting like that the other day, after I picked up my Voice and couldn't fall asleep on the train. The car wasn't crowded so I spread out and read the paper. And I just happened to be looking down, at my mirror to see how bad my zit was, so I don't know exactly what this woman did, whether it was her bag on the next seat or legs out so that she could blot her pizza or maybe both, because she was just sitting so normally and the car was pretty much empty and if someone came on the train and went in her direction to sit, she would've moved. She didn't look unreasonable.

So before the train left the guy in the 2-seater facing the door to my immediate right puts his leg across the next seat, spreads out the paper, and starts reading. Totally oblivious to the fact that if he'd gotten on the train a stop earlier, he could've been busted. Holy shit. Had the cops turned around instead of writing this woman up, they could've busted 2 people. The guy across from me had his knees miles apart. Then the guy reading the paper grabbed his crotch and laid the paper across his lap and I wondered if he was going to whip it out. Taking up 2 seats is an issue and exposing yourself isn't? And where were the cops busting the seat-hoggers during the strike, when peeps on the LIRR made others stand so their packages and tote bags could sit and were offended if you asked them to move it? By Jackson Heights I was really upset. That was so unfair. They don't go after the homeless, huddled under blankets in the last seat of the E train. Or the bums who stink so bad they clear out half the car. If that's not taking up more than 1 seat, I don't know what is. Of course they don't go after them because they're homeless and can't pay a ticket. On the E train across from me is a guy sitting diagonally, listening to his Pod, clearly taking up more than 1 seat, and a guy in the 2-seater, guitar cases around him and a small suitcase. Pretty much taking up the whole area. Thankfully the 6 was there when I got off the escalator, because if I had to stand around smelling that station I'd literally get sick, not just a figure of speech. After I crossed 28th to get to Rocky's, I heard a man muttering under his breath. I turn around to see this guy pretty much on my heels. All I heard was Goddamn and I don't know if I was making a big deal out of how close he was because I was so upset to begin with or what. I hurried up Lex and he followed. Coincidence?

Of course the bar was packed to the rafters and Heather asked me if I had a ticket. Uhhh. If we needed tix, wouldn't that have been announced? Oh, wait, look who we're talking about, here. It's just that I remember the whole ticket thing from 2003 (Chris: tix onsale starting X day. Me, on X day: I need to buy a ticket. Bartender: yeah, right. Chris, Friday: tix onsale X day. Me, on X day: I need to buy a ticket. Bartender: laughs. Repeat over & over. 'Course now that I think about it, maybe they just didn't want me there) and figured tickets were not going to happen. Ever. If there was somebody following me, this would be the safest place to be. He wouldn't find me in there, even though at that point, parting the ocean of male bodies to even step inside was the last thing I wanted to do. I had to take my coat off in the hallway, where all the moving air was, there was no room to move my arms horizontally and I thought that this was just like Continenthell, except there's no stage diving or crowd surfing. So, acutally, it's a walk in the park. One that I was overdressed for in jeans and a T; sweat was rolling down my face just pushing thru the crowd to get near the stage. I finally got to see Mike rock the stripes and plaid. Kilts were definitely the way to go. He had armloads of beads to give out. "The crass commercialization and Americanization of a holiday," he explains. Yeah, but you bought 'em all! Nobody told you to!

First up was Eire Og, live'n'direct from Glasgow, with what Chuck Eddy so eloquently refers to as "ancient folk ballads about dead soldiers." A night like this is the only time when an acoustic band could ruin your hearing--because the crowd is just that loud. I thought I was loud, but that's because sometimes I'm the only one singing. On Fields of Athenrye, I was positively drowned out. It was the weirdest sensation; it felt like all these voices could levitate me. "Bands like this wonder why they don't get any airplay. It's because their songs are 2 hours long," Bill told me. He overheated, like, an hour B4 Chris started and he asked me to get his bag from under the juke and that's where all the cool air was. He did have the idea of yelling that there was a mouse, but I didn't know if he just wanted to see everybody freak or if he thought they'd leave. 'Cause even if there was a mouse, nobody'd leave.

It was one of the rare occaisions there that you could stand in front of the stage there like at a regular venue and not be a total weirdo. It was also one of those rare occaisions where there were sound problems and Chris just let it roll off his back. 'Course if you don't have anybody doing sound there's really no one to blame. 'Course this happened on Irish Catholic Boy. I was thinking it was just me because when do I ever stand that close to the stage so maybe it does sound different up front, but if you stood in the wrong spot it was hard to hear and if you moved a little, you could hear fine. Like rabbit ears, if you move the wrong floor board the TV goes out. It was a plug that fell out of a monitor and they were good to go by the latest new song (not sure what title they're going with for it). Though it might've been because it was early in the weekend and spirits were still high, Chris let the music do the talking (Wake Up Irishman {they haven't done that one in ages}, Saoirse, 30 Years On, Time To Go {also haven't done in ages}). And even tho I said I wasn't taking many pix that weekend the lighting was terrible and I tried different different flash settings. As always, nobody had a speaking part that nite but we all had singing parts and Celtic anthems made for a nice segue into Enjoy Yourself (It's later than you think). "You're going to be singing a lot this weekend," Chris said, "but remember to enjoy yourself." I thought 50 Pints Of Stout was coming because he kinda segued into it when he announced the Pogues show and they haven't done that one in ages, not to mention 'twas the season, but they didn't. Oh! Almost forgot! It is Wednesday after all, but they did do one of their ancient trad numbers, originally written in the Mother Tongue, and loosely translated, it says If You Wanna Be Hip-Hop (Stop acting like a rockstar). "I won't kid myself, I know a lot of you didn't come here to hear this hip-hop shit...." Uhm, I did. And if it were shit I wouldn't be there.

I got in at about a quarter to 3 and had every intention of taking a shower, but not only did I fall asleep with my contacts in, I fell asleep with my bra on and on top of Oreo's laser pointer. That can't be good for the ole skeleton.

Also, sorry 4 the crappy pix, but they're the most recent ones I have. I've come to realize that even tho Fuji film is cheap, you do get what you pay for. This might be the one instance where not clicking on 'em to enlarge is better. Weird, but I spelled Saoirse correctly right off the bat but I misspelled "occaision." Go fig.
***
So, yeah, I wasn't going to even review the show. But as for the other big musical stuff going on that weekend that I could've covered--Stereolab, That Chick From Rilo Kiley, the start of SXSW, the Arctic Donkeys...if that interests you, go read Brooklynvegan. I assume my readers aren't and don't. That doesn't interest me, either. So we're kinda stuck with each other, aren't we?

No Sleep 'Til Sunday!

The sinus problems were not in the plans. Neither is the cold weather tomorrow. Definitely not snow, which at last check has vanished from the forecast. Luck of the Irish, they quipped at the end of Fox 5 News @ 10. Wow, that is so fucking original they should pat themselves on the back. "The city's gonna go crazy with the parade tomorrow," fretted some woman in the elevator earlier when I went out for lunch. Another person tut-tutted in agreement.

At least I got off easy. No stories about Irish cowboys or couples meeting cute at a bar, swilling green beer, dancing a jig, and marveling how leprechauns brought them together and that they have the proverbial luck of the Irish. There is such a group as the "Celtic Romance Writers." Wonder if they approved the most likely abominable Hot Whispers Of An Irishman. Eh, what the fuck do I know? Such a beast does exist in the 1st place. I do know that spring starts Monday and cold weather blows.

And Murph sent out his holiday newsletter, breaking the city down by zip code in relation to the parade. Good goin', sending it out at 4:15 the day before. If you'd like to party like the Irish, with the Irish.... Nah, I'm going to party like a music fan. Probably the only one, but somebody's got to. And this is post #100, so you should know that by now. Who needs CMJ? Let's face it, this the only time of year that my bands are gonna be huge.

So don't bother knockin cuz I'm out rockin.

Lost Again

I had another dream that I was lost. This one also involved a school. For some reason, a lot of my dreams recently have involved schools. For some reason, I think they're elementary schools. Probably because with the way things are going in my life, elementary school was a time when I didn't have these adult problems to worry about. I always see dark staircases. People who interpret dreams would probably attach a lot of significance to that, I guess. This time I saw windows--the steel cages that cover public school windows in the city. One was painted red and one was green. I wasn't sure which school I belonged in, the one with the red window cages or the green. Walking around outside, looking at the windows, I got lost. I used to have dreams that I was in college and it was getting close to finals time and I realized--too late--that I forgot to go to one of my classes after the first week. For the rest of the semester. As of late, I'm in hallways trying to find classes during that transition period of a new year when you don't carry your schedule around, relying on memory, and wondering if I'm in the right place at the right time. There were also dreams where I'm in this school hallway that kept going in circles and I was trying to find the English Dept. and just going in circles. The meaning of that last one is most likely my subconscious going, Way to go, majoring in creative writing. You can't pay the bills as a writer.

Also, because this is me, I saw bands in my dream last nite as well. I don't know where I was for this one, but WWIX was playing. They were doing Intervention (the song, not an actual intervention) and there was a big circle pit going. Then I was at the Rock Revue, only for some reason it started out at CBGB (even tho it didn't look like CBs) and then we went outside, down this long, grassy path with trees all around, which I've been to before in dreams tho I don't know where this exactly is in real life, to a dark, sit-down auditorium for the rest of the show. All the usual ringers were there. I remember thinking, If the Seanchai show ends up being held here, I'm not going to stay. Then I thought how funny it was that I just saw WW9 playing Intervention and now I'm going to hear Rogue's March do Shut Up And Drink. Well, it was funny in my dream. I'm funnier in my dreams.

The band part happened first, then the school/lost bit. It was such an eerie feeling, being lost, that I had to wake myself up. I was worried that it was already 7:00, which is the 1st time I get up, when the alarm goes off, and then I go back to sleep for another hour because I can't get out of bed in the mornings anymore.

What can I say? I'm funnier when I'm asleep.

Sporecore!

The Spores @ Lit//3/9/06

It's pointless, really, to write up a band that has more puppet members than humans because that should sell you on The Spores right off the bat. But lest you think that this is a puppet show or schtick along the lines of Uncle Jimmy's Dirty Basement, I'll tell you about The Spores.

I got there to see a drum & bass band, in the truest sense, onstage. The band consisted of a drummer and bassist. The music wasn't all that bad but the bass player can't sing. They are called Crescent Moon. Now, people, what did I tell you about band names? Well, not them exactly, because they never asked me, but if they ever said, Hey, H, how can we suck slightly less? I'd tell them.

The dark stage was illuminated with tube lighting around absolutely everything and the puppet box assembled. For a moment I wondered if we were supposed to sit down for the puppet show. First up was a middle-finger puppet and then one with a turntable. And then The Spores came on. At the end of one of the songs, puppet Miss Fishnets was brought onstage. I felt like I was in a Bjork video, what with their lush, dreamy electronica. The puppets weren't on every song and it didn't upstage the humans--bassist/singer Molly McGuire, guitarist Greg Stunbunny Biribauer, and Kenny Pierce on drums. So they're a puppet/human band as opposed to a puppet-human band. Except at the end of their set, they said something about there being a curfew and according to their site, their act is a 75-minute puppet/human extravaganza. Dammit.

Spores must spread and grow. Different venue next time, big enough for us to rock out in, and a set time long enough to accomadate them.

The CD Part Of Town

Band: Black '47
Album: Bittersweet Sixteen
Label: Gadfly

It's every band's dream: A unique sound, loyal fanbase, steady gigs, attention from the press, packed houses, a residency, celebreties in the audience, music industry honchos stopping by, getting signed to a major label..... No, not the latest band of blazer-wearing schmoes from the Lower East Side, but none other than Black '47. (Well, you knew that from the heading, but still.) But then what?

Old skool as well as old world, Black '47 formed in 1989, when the standard operating procedure in the music biz was to get the A&R guy's attention, get signed to a major label, put out a single, make some videos for MTV, release and album, chart on Billboard, win awards, lather, rinse, repeat. Not exactly how things worked out for Black '47, so Bittersweet Sixteen can't really be called a "greatest hits album" since the band never really had many "greatest hits", per se. The 16 tracks here are representative of their 16-year career--meaning that some of the standards are on it, because the album is (and we all saw this one coming from a mile away) the story so far of Black '47. Many of the tracks originally appeared on Home Of The Brave and Green Suede Shoes, incredible albums that were unfortunately deleted by their respective record labels. 5 of the tracks on BS16 were also on the Shanachie Records sampler, Ten Bloody Years Of Black '47. Of course two tracks on 10BY--and which also appeared on HOTB and GSS--are missing from BS16, for obvious reasons, making this more of an abridged story. Some of the tracks on BS16 were originally perfomred live on Idiot's Delight. BS16 (and I'm not going to point out how the title abbreviation is BS because that would be mean, tho it would be remiss of me not to) comes on the heels of last season's Elvis Murphy's Green Suede Shoes, (the companion CD to bandleader Larry Kirwan's memoir, Green Suede Shoes) another album rooted in the past while looking toward the future.

Still, it's doubtful that many NYC bands that form and/or have formed recently will have as long a reign in NYC as Black '47, so here's to the next album with (new) songs about what's been going down in New York Town.

Rating:

Zen & The Art Of Not Freezing To Death Outside The Venue

Blood On The Walls/Yeah Yeah Yeahs//Bowery Ballroom//2/24/06

It was Friday the 13th and I was in a weird mood probably due to the buzz and anticipation of a new year wearing off and realizing that a new year is just another opportunity for me to continue screwing up my life. For some reason I happened to check Ticketweb, even though the new tix usually go on sale on Wednesday. And there it was. And I wanted to go. But I also had to go to the bank. And I was going to my mom's after work. And the tickets would not last, that I knew. Deliberation. Not only that, it's $20 and I mean it's the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Do I wait on the bank? Pass on the show? Go after work? So of course I walked over to 23rd & 6th after the bank, hopped the F, and went to the Mercury Lounge. Risky. I felt like a sneak. My stomach was killing me. At the Merc, the was a note on the table that said 2 ticket limit and their computer was already on Ticketweb's Bowery Ballroom page. The girl on the phone said, "Only two tickets...they're going pretty quick." Walking down E. Houston, I realized that doors were 9PM. And it's an 18+ show. Great, all the college kids will be on line from the time class ends. And I don't want to do the work. I mean, this is the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. But when I got back, I saw that both shows were 18+, both 9PM doors, and who better to cover this than me? Maybe this means something, since I just happened to see the tix onsale. Maybe it's proof that I should keep doing what I'm doing. By 4PM, both shows were sold out. I should've gotten another ticket. I could've sold it for a lot of money. But I never do because with my luck I'll get busted. Right, I could've hocked it on eBay. I guess it shows you how old I am if the eBay option doesn't occur to me 1st.

I was really dreading doing the work for this. Not only is it the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, it was a $20 ticket, it's cold, I have a cold, my computer, etc. I can make myself miserable at the drop of a hat. I got there @ 6, walking past the Citibank ad on the side of a payphone on Delancey whose slogan is something like, Becoming immature is important, too. I knew I wasn't going to be the 1st on line....but I settled for 2nd. The girl in front of me was one who tried to get last minute Hard-Fi tix. She was having a hushed convo on her cell about Interpol. I sat down to read and freeze. What the hell is wrong with me, it's gotta be like 25 degrees. It's so bad that homeless people actually seek shelter in this weather. My cough was deep, the cough of a poor person who doesn't seek medical attention right away because afterall it's just a routine cold. Sounds like me. My chest hurt when I coughed and hurt when I didn't. I wasn't dressed nearly warm enough. My toes were numb and my fingernails burned. I put up my hood and fastened it over my mouth. I stretched out my legs so that my coat could cover my legs because if I sat cross-legged, it bunched up my coat. Maybe since this is the YYYS I'd be able to concentrate on my book since I wouldn't be all hopped up about the show. An Asian woman in a red skirt, black tights, white cowboy boots, a denim jacket, and fur stole came by and asked what we were waiting for. I couldn't tell if she was just a passerby or she wanted to go to the show. She had a Diesel messenger bag and her clear vinyl tote said I Tokyo all over it. Inside was a pair of white wires. A shuffle hung from her neck. I said we were waiting for a show and she held out a page from the Voice and asked, "Eez theez th' Yah Yah Yahs?" Yah. Other people looking for a last-minute ticket explained to her that they didn't know if they could still get in. Two guys get on line behind me. They aren't in coats and one doesn't have gloves, one is in a Beatles hoodie. I try to exert myself by eavesdropping on their banter about how cold they are and could've taken a later train, hoping to take my mind off of the cold. One said The Magic Numbers is good; he stole the CD from the CW Post radio station. (3. Oh, yes, it's a magic number.) A girl in a floor-length skirt over jeans and hoodie and her bomber jacket-wearing boyfriend show up and I realize something strange. Nobody there looked like a hipster. They all look alt.rock and generic. Weren't the Ys supposed to be so cutting edge? Weren't they all post-punk and trendsetters? Weren't they the harbingers of the future of music? Of the "NYC scene"? What is going on here? The guy in the bomber jacket noticed the poster for The Subways and got all excited. "March 7! Remember that!" He then started calling friends and told them that they should get tickets. Uh, nope. They should've gotten tickets. Because that's sold out. Then we realize that even tho it's 7:00, 9PM doors means that they're not gonna open the downstairs bar area for another hour. The guy in the bomber jacket has dark blue hair and he looks like an asshole. The girl is doing the whole I'm such a rebel! My boyfriend has blue hair! thing and they hovered toward the front of the line, hanging out next to me, so they could "accidentally" cut everybody. Oh, were you standing here? There's a line? I didn't notice. Wow, sucks to be you. After the girl got done smoking and he called friends about The Subways (I'm sorry, but British bands can't call themselves The Subways. Call yerselves The Underground or something. You've just taken a good name from a NYC band. 'Course, no NYC bands have taken it before they did, but someone would've been smart enough to come up with that name. Eventually.) they fell into line behind the kids who've been freezing all this time and in front of others who were waiting.

A woman with a roll of silver material arrived and demanded to be let in. "Who are you?" they asked at the door. "I'm their costume designer." As if we should've known all along. Then the asshole guard comes out and I do my best to ignore him, purposefully eavesdropping on the guys' convo behind me, about how he was harrassed when he went to buy spray paint to paint something. Oh, yes, funny story, gee, if you were going to huff, would the colors matter? just so I wouldn't catch the guard's attention. See, I'm just hanging out with these guys, my new best friends, while we wait. Look at me minding my own business! They separated ticket buyers from holders, making them line up by the subway station, set up the ropes, and checked the IDs of the buyers. And then let them in. It's nice that they treat potential customers better than customers that have already paid. "Move back!" barks the asshole guard. Then another guard goes to the end of the line and starts checking IDs, working his way up to the end, to me. "She's good," he says.

"She's never good," says the a-hole. "She never follows directions."

What? You said move back and I did, aside from the fact that you did not say please. What directions have I failed to follow? But before I could attempt to make sense of this exchange, I head downstairs. I take my place in front of the double doors and people crowd behind me. Great, no going to the bathroom til the show's over. Then the asshole comes down.

"Do you have problems following directions?" Huh? What brought this on? Did I not step back when asked? He mentions my failure to follow directions again and I quickly decide that my tactics will be to ignore him, instead of snapping, being sarcastic/nasty, and mentioning how many years I've been going there w/o problem. I look at him blankly and he takes my silence as an admission that I'm not all there, or unable to comprehend. Then again, I was standing outside in 20-degree weather for 2 hrs for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Maybe there is something wrong with me after all. "I'm just askin' you, because you come here all the time and you're a regular. Why can't you follow directions? I'm not picking on you, I'm just bein real wit'choo." He goes on to explain that if someone is loading in equipment and I get hurt, his boss will be mad at him. All through his monologue I keep up the blank face. Wow, in the 8 years that I've been going to the Bowery Ballroom and being at the front of the line, and I've never been hit w/equipment. I am truly fortuate. He concludes with asking me again if I have problems following directions. I assure him that I don't. All this time, I'm standing in front of the double doors...like someone who can follow directions, and a regular who knows that we don't go upstairs until someone opens the doors from the other side. I try not to dwell and let it ruin the show. But come on. Like I'm not going to notice someone loading in gear and move back? And even if I do get hit, this is me. It'll be Coolest. Moment. Ever. Funny that they care if we get hurt before we even get into the place, but then I'd be standing in a mosh pit if it were a punk show. You don't care what happens to patrons then?

He leaves and I think again about how lucky I've been in the past 8 years. Then I watch them set up merch and listen to the Eurotrash boy behind me regaling the crowd with stories of the Reading Festival and Babyshambles. There's a discussion of Bands and some guy pipes up that his friend is a guitarist in an up-and-coming band, eager to get attention from The Guy With The Accent. He boasts how the band really isn't that good yet but he lies and tells the guitarist that they are.

See, if I were capable of doing that I'd be able to be friends with Guys In Bands.

To further illustrate how I'm capable of following directions at the Bowery Ballroom, the guy who opens the double doors had a door in his hand and then turned around to speak to someone at the merch table, letting the door slip closed again. Did I storm the gate? No. Then he opens it and tell us to wait a minute. I did. Even though he said that we have to stop at the merch table on the way up, we all ran and people started crowding in behind me. No going to the bathroom until after the show.

Blood On The Walls (see, you knew there was a point to this after all--maybe I should figure out how to jump to things w/in your own post and I can make a link so peeps who don't want to read the whole thing can go straight to the band parts.) has a drum kit with a unicorn and a rainbow painted on the front. The drummer was wearing a sweatshirt that had a teddy bear on it and it said something like Basketball Playing Grandma. They were like Sonic Yoot on ritalin--more danceable, even though no one did.

I honestly didn't know what to expect out of the YYYs. Maybe nobody really does, but I only saw them once, at the Merc in their about-to-blow-up state. And if I were blogging back then, I bet I'd be working for a music mag by now. Anyway, I only have their EP because I was hearing so much about them but wasn't able to catch a show and I was like, ok, now this I gotta hear. Never got the album because I wasn't that impressed w/them live. (y...eah, and I still think I can be a rawk crit. There goes that, but maybe it's a good thing that nobody reads this.) The one thing I did like about the show, though, was that I felt old. And I liked that a band could make me feel that way. If that makes sense. And I don't sit around reading music mags in order to get some soundbites about bands to repeat as my own, so I really knew nothing about what the Ys are like now. Which is why I thought I'd be the perfect objective person to review them.

It was gonna involve disco balls. Two were stacked by the drum kit and a few placed by the monitors. Nick and Brian came onstage and started playing in the dark as the light given off by the disco balls swam all around them. Something was coming. It was brewing. Karen O came out in a silver bodysuit decorated with purple, green, and gold plastic jewels and the same gems striped her tights. Her makeup was in the same colors, done up so her face resembled those porcelain masks that 13-yr-old girls hang on their walls. Gone is the esctatic club kid in fishnets who jerked around to the music, spilling beer all over the place--whether it was biting the feathers from her costume, rolling on the floor, or pacing around, carrying the disco balls--and in her place is a jester. All her moves were graceful and seemed thought out, her glitter lipstick never smudged. Watching her perform now, on the big-kid stage, I wondered if the reason I found her antics so annoying in the past is because I saw myself in her: the girl up front jumping around, without a care in the world who she was soaking and pushing, and pushing her way onstage to sing with the band, claiming her place in the show. I'd take the Yeah Yeah Yeahs over all those bands with their eyeliner and synths and trying too hard. Except...nobody danced. Nobody moved. Everyone just stood there with rapt attention. It was an unsettling phenomenon given the rave-up I saw from them at the Merc, given who the band is. At one point Karen had us all sing Happy Birthday to her mom in the balcony and a guard came over to me and told me to take the flash off my camera. I wasn't even using my camera at that point, not to mention that the flash doesn't come off, and of course he said nothing to those with flashes next to me, but for some reason, I thought, You think I can't follow directions? Watch me follow them. I didn't use my camera for a bit. I love how my taking a roll and a half of pix with a flash is ok, but all of a sudden it wasn't. (Kevin is at the Merc now. Said he's been demoted. Something about putting a guy through a wall who had it coming. I don't know; he speaks in sentence fragments anyway. And threw pickles at the club next door. Which I heard was bought buy the Bowery crew for 5 mil. And the parking lot on the right side is undergoing construction. What, another club?) But since everybody else used their flash, I did as well. And the band did. The most reaction Karen got out of the crowd was during the encore, when she mentioned moving to LA. Everyone booed and she said that she used to be a hater, too. So maybe that explains it.

As I stood there putting on my coat, I heard another woman complaining because she was yelled at over her camera being too professional. "Show's over, everybody has to leave!" another guy yelled. Uh, that's why I'm putting my coat on. Duh. What the hell is it with this place all of a sudden? Downstairs, after I was able to push my way down, they were playing X-Ray Spex. That seems about right.

The Annex Sucks!

Tiswas 2.0 feat. The Mooney Suzuki//The Annex//3/4/06

I had no idea what time to even get there, all I knew was 11:00. So is it that there's some big dance party and TMS takes the stage @ 11, or the doors are 1st @ 11, or what? I was afraid that my showing up in time to be up front was going to be thwarted by subway silliness, stuck waiting around for the E @ Queens Plaza and then hearing that there was a water main break. And I love how they try to make it so dramatic. "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a water main break." And that's it. What, you've already drowned? The subway is not running? Nothing's stopping at whatever stop I'm at? I have to go back and start all over again? Though I was seriously considering going back home, not just because it's been howling wind all day, but I've been trying to get my place cleared up so I can get the computer in, but all I managed to do was veg and throw a few things out. Not the book, not yet, though, and I was crying on the subway before landing at Queens Plaza.

At 2nd Ave. there was a girl in a miniskirt, fishnets, and knee socks clacking out ahead of me in her stilettos, stopping at the corner of Houston/Allen and yelling into her cell. That coffee shop next to American Apparel has closed. That didn't last very long. A couple'a months, maybe? Walking down Orchard St., I considered turning around and going to the Merc for Satanicide. The Annex is right around the corner from Arlene's. There's no number outside, but there's no mistaking it, or thinking it's anything but a club. The facade is black glass brick and there's a red light above the double wooden doors. It looks like some catering hall from the outside. I can only imagine how ridiculous and out of place this place looks by daylight. It's hard to imagine a place like this below 14th St. Hell, below 34th St. Not exactly what comes to mind for a place called The Annex. There were 2 bouncers outside, one guy in leather pants, leather vest, fur coat and hat, and one in a suit with a phone piece over his ear. "What is this place?" remarks a passerby. Also, since I've never been there before, I had no idea if it's one of those places where you have to dress a certain way or have a certain look or they won't let you in. (Concert Joe told me he tried to see a show I think it was at Fat Baby or maybe it was The Annex and they told him there was no show going on. So I thought that for sure they'd let a woman in, but then again I don't exactly have that hipster look and they'd sooner let a young woman in than me. And he told me that he's on the list @ Southie and any time I want to see a show there on his mandatory visitation days with his kids, I should show them his card and they'd let me in in his place. Yeah, thanks, but if I can't get into a venue on my own after all this time, I'd rather pay the money.)

At about 20 after 10 the furry guard tells us to form one line. Then the other one tells us to form 2 lines so that we don't crowd the sidewalks. They check IDs and then 2 guys come up and try to get in. Uh, yeah, get in line. They continue to hover so they can cut us all off, but then again, I didn't have to worry because everyone would head to the bar 1st. Which is exactly what happened. Man, that place was weird. The venue that must be referred to in boldface still had that new venue smell inside, you can still smell the varnish on the wood paneling. There are about 4 semicirlce booths/tables across from the bar. The DJ table was set up next to them. There's an upstairs lounge. It looks like a hotel bar. Say what you will about the quality of the acts at CBGB, but that's closing and this soulless place exists? It looks like a lounge and the live music aspect is an afterthought. The stage isn't very wide. Behind the bar is Ian from Some Action. Classic. Which makes me wonder if the other guy is (was? is?) a Starspangle. I guess in 2 years somebody from whatever LES hipster haircut band will be tending bar at the next hot venue. And it's too dark to read. But the five steps up to the stage is a hollow staircase. Hello, coatcheck. I couldn't take it anymore and sat on the floor doing a Wonderword. I'm sure somebody from a real blog will make fun of me on theirs. The only music I recognized was Le Tigre and Tears For Fears' Head Over Heels. C'mon already! They've gotten around to playing the ironic 80s song, so let's go already!

The stage is 4 1/2 people wide. You could fit an extra person in, but that night there was a stack of monitors so you couldn't. The guy to my right was talking to some girl and he had his back to me, arm on the stage, sprawled out. "He's totally crowding you out," commented a girl in a Diesel dress who has seen me at shows @ The Bowery Ballroom for the past 6 months. Because she's blonde, guys start talking to her and the two yahoos behind me tell her they were in Hoboken in the morning for their St. Pat's parade, but the bars were packed by 10:30 and they couldn't get in so they spent the morning drinking in a parking lot and jumping around to stay warm. Oh, yeah, that's this weekend. Holy shit, it's been a year since I went to that mess. I just stared at all the guitar pedals, tempted to start touching them, I was so bored.

The Mooney Suzuki is back where it all started, playing Tiswas. Anybody remember Coney Island High? said TMS's website. "The first time Graham Tyler played a gig with us was @ Tiswas upstairs @ Coney Island High, in 1997. Right before we went on, somebody either slit their wrists or overdosed in the bathroom and we had to wait for them to be paramedicked out before we could start. In retrospect it was an omen for The Mooney Suzuki." They started at midnite and with the height of the stage, I had a nice view of Sammy's white patent leather shoes and if I looked up, up his nose. They did a lot of "what the music industry calls 'new shit.' So if you like shit, and you like new shit, you'll like this shit." Yeah, I kinda count Alive & Amplified as new shit as well since I kinda stopped paying close attention after Electric Sweat. The vocals were hard to hear, I didn't recognize anyone in the crowd, (I haven't for a while) but speaking of electric sweat, I don't get their bundled-up look. Shirts buttoned up to the neck, scarves, blazers? Wouldn't that get in the way of the rawk and the sweat? This is a band that used to be completely drenched in sweat at the end of a show. Shouldn't they be shedding the blazers during their set? Rolling up sleeves? Sam climbed to the top of the monitors, touched the ceiling, and the crowd behind me held up their hands to catch him as the monitors shook, but he climbed down. They only played for 50 mins, and there were 2 new shits still on the list. Right after their set, the DJs played Hazy Shade Of Winter, which was sorta appropriate.

Back down on Orchard St. there's a mix of places out of business and jumping. A lot of those boutique stores with plain clothes that are probably expensive. Construction sites. On a lightpost is a flier for a show @ Cakeshop--152 Ludlow. The Annex is 152 Orchard. Orchard Street is the new Ludlow. Wait a minute, didn't The Spunk Lads play outdoors on Orchard Street in 2002? I just thought of this now. Actually, I was about to make some wistful comment about how the pushcart vendors of the old Lower East Side would never have imagined any of this and that's what made me remember that.

Anyway, when I got off the E and looked behind me, there was the 2nd Ave. stiletto girl. Weird. She was with a group of stilettoed friends and they all clacked their way out of the station. If it weren't for The Mooney Suzuki playing there I wouldn't have gone there. Y'know what sucks the most about The Annex? How weird it is to say "Annex sucks" because both words kinda have the same ending-sound and your mouth trips up.

Well, mine does.

The CD Part Of Town

Artist: Armalite
Album: S/T
Label: No Idea Records

"We like to play our music, but we don't very often" Armalite says by way of introduction--and explanation--on their Myspace page. Their prior commitments include membership and stints in bands such as Paint It Black and Kid Dynamite (bassist Dan Yemin), Jeff Ziga is the drummer for True If Destroyed, guitarist/singer Mike McKee edits Philadelphia's Rockpile and was in Kill The Man Who Questions...and for singer, guitarist, and former Package-handler Atom Goren, it's fatherhood and teaching HS chemistry and physics.

Thankfully Armalite managed to find/make time to record their debut album, even if their hectic schedules don't allow for much gigging outside of Philadelphia. Song subjects range from growing older (Entitled) to the curveballs life throws you (I Am A Pancreas {I seek to understand me...}) to politics (When Nice People Think Dumb Things, Attack, and Vote). The lyrics don't make sense at face value sometimes, and all the lyrics are followed by notes and even those notes are explained (Certain parts should be in "sarcastic font") but together with the music they become singalong indie-pop/HC nerd anthems. Mixing these subjects with Armalite members' unique brand of humor and sarcasm (Influences? "None. We live in orbs." Sounds like? "The audio version of video version of us playing") is what makes these songs work and makes books out of sentence fragments, expanding on the basic lyric/music style of Atom and His Package.

As Atom says in the notes to When Nice People Think Dumb Things, Attack, And Vote--about how many people aren't good critical thinkers and tend to swallow soundbites--"Professor Figgy Newton's studies at the University have found that, undoubtedly, writing punk rock songs and liner notes is the most productive approach to combating this problem." Armalite is doing their part to make the music world, at least, a safer place.

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