The Saudi Agenda? What Saudi Agenda? There Is No Saudi Agenda.

The Larch/The Saudi Agenda//Freddy's Backroom//4/29/06

I have to admit The Saudi Agenda wasn't exactly my 1st choice of bandname for these guys, but then again my vote don't count because I'm not in the band. Still, it's a lot better than Somos Demonios and a few others that Roger came up with which Scott (and I) pooh-poohed (you ask my opinion, you get my opinion) in their post-Demonios/Infalliable 5 malaise. (Though I thought referring to the Infalliable 5 as the Inevitable 5 was a telling slip-up.)

Though I remembered the Art Brut poster for Roger, I didn't remember my camera until after the elevator went up to 4 and then back down to the lobby. Sometimes I think I'm losing it. Of course I get to the subway just in time to see an R pull out. But the E and the F were going local to Jackson Heights, so I kinda lucked out. At 14th St there were the requisite signs all over but I guess by now, if you put them all in one spot in the transfer tunnel, I'm just immune to them. I ignored 'em. And got there to a train on the local track, but something was coming down the express, so ha ha, suckers! The local leaves, the express finally comes in--and it's going on the uptown local route instead. Right. I knew that. Shit, I just let the downtown go. So I sit down to wait and from behind me, I hear: That's fuckin grimey.

The man clarifies: That's some grimey-ass shit, saying that's going to go uptown over here. That's grimey. That's fuckin grimey. There's no signs. The MTA always wants your money. Grimey. Grimey-ass shit.

A woman in an MTA uniform sits down next to me and the critic's attack now has a target audience. That's right, I'm getting my shit out on you because you see what your shirt says? Motherfuckin MTA just wants your money. Grimey. That's fuckin grimey-ass shit.

The woman defends herself: I don't drive the trains. He keeps up his tirade, but she cuts him off: I'm in the station.

I'm telling you because you walk with them, he explains as the woman mutters curses under her breath. MTfuckinA just takes your money. Grimey!

It's getting late. Then again, I'm going to Freddy's so why shouldn't there be train troubles? She explains to the audience that has gathered since the last uptown that the next train on this track is actually going uptown, not downtown, and to get to South Ferry you have to go to Chambers and take a shuttle.

"I have to get to Brooklyn," one guy says.

"For Brooklyn, you need to go upstairs and take the L," says the MTA worker.

Uhhhmmm....

"I need to go to Park Slope," the man clarifies.

"Go upstairs, take the L...." she repeats, as if she's talking to a 5-yr-old, then stalks off down the platform because Grimey has plunked his bag down on our side of the bench.

"Grimey! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

Who knew the L goes to Park Slope? I guess with all the rerouting, anyhing's possible. I pull back my jacket sleeve to check my watch, my hand shooting forward involuntarily with that gesture, and I hit Grimey. I flinch, he doesn't seem to notice. Then again, if anything, no one could relate to the grimeyness of the situation better than me. Then I realize: Sucking, out; grimey, in.

"What time do the trains stop running?"

The Tourist, who just missed Grimey's monologue, has us all cracking up. "Can we smoke on the platform?"

"You might as well, since the MTA runs the trains the way they do. Fuckin grimey. Go for it," Grimey says.

The Tourist, in his sport sandals and sport socks, wears a baseball hat with an eagle and the Statue of Liberty in front of an American Flag. Under it, it says USA. He considers, because there are no signs saying that you can't smoke. There aren't any signs anywhere and the trains aren't even marked. Grimey tells him to go ahead and smoke because the MTA just wants our money.

The uptown finally comes and Grimey gets on. Figuring I must be next, I get up and look down the local track. The uptown is in the station for a while and I figure that Grimey is still deep in his monologue. I turn back and he's muttering to someone, the guy nodding his head in agreement.

On the downtown, which is going local to Chambers, I realize that if Roger starts before I get there, then that's pretty fuckin grimey. When I asked, his email said 11 or 11:30, but I figured that wasn't going to happen. I got there @ 11 and The Larch was just starting. I gave Roger the poster and he asked if I heard about the Knitting Factory getting robbed. I told him that he already told me this, and even though The Larch was playing, he told me the whole story over again, directly into my ear. When he finished, I said, "Yeah, that's exactly what you told me the last time." He gives me a puzzled look. "When Scott played." Still no recollection. "Two weeks ago." He nods. "Oh, you just want me whispering in your ear." Great, I actually have a guy in a band whispering in my ear and it's the same story he told me already. Eh, seems about right. I look up and the table to my left is passing around a notepad and writing and I crack up, because when I did that at the Bottom Line, it was all scathing comments about Morely and how much she sucked. See, this is why we should all learn sign language. We're gonna go deaf anyway from all these shows. The Larch did a song about a train in Amsterdam and I wonder if it's grimey. The train, I mean, not the song, and a train in outerspace. Then Roger asked me if I had allergies and if so, do I have anything on me. No, but since I feel bad I offer him my inhaler, if he doesn't mind that it's been in my mouth. "We're close, but I don't think we should share nostrils." Uh, Rog, it doesn't go up yer nose.

Gavin moved the tables, and right before The Saudi Agenda started, he said, "Do you guys know any songs in Arabic? 'Cause that would be funny." I think this is only TSA's 2nd gig, if I'm not mistaken, so I wasn't expecting them to have a full set list, which they did. Then again look who we're dealing with, here. Tell Roger he needs some songs before getting a gig, he'll write a double album. Punk rock opening numbers No Saudi Agenda and Somos Demonios had me picturing Seth, Matt, and Alex tearing the place apart (5/17 @ Southie, yo) and I could see stage diving to some, on some of them I could see Marc jumping up and down. And since this is Roger and this double album would need to be heard, by One Speed I was up as well. They covered The Spunk Lads's Girl At The March, but I'm hoping they only did so in honor of the march earlier that day. They had this song These Are The Jews Who Killed Jesus and I was cracking up, but it was hard to pay attention and rock out at the same time lest jokes fly over your head. Interestingly enough, Gimme Some Lip has found new life as a ska/pop number, so if you still dislike it intensely in this guise at least you can do the twist to it. And Soul Ideal (formerly AKA What is the sound of a punk band masturbating) is now a pop song. Which just proves the old adage true: It's better to put out one great album and break up than risk putting out a second one and piss me off. Roger asked me what I thought about The Jews Who Killed Jesus and I was like, couldn't concentrate, rocking.

So while The Saudi Agenda is definitely not grimey, what about bands that are? What's the handsign for that, a la vortex of suck? Then again, why mess with a classic.

The Other Big Show That Weekend

Left Alone/The Briefs/Horrorpops//Knitting Factory//4/23/06

Needless to say that I didn't get much accomplished on Sunday before heading down to the gig since doors were @ 7. It felt like I had no weekend at all. Eh, there'll be others. I decided not to bring my camera because I took enough pix @ the Horrorpops show last month, I have enough pix of the Briefs and tons to still develop, and how good could a band called Left Alone really be? Besides, I didn't want to have to worry about a camera all thru the Briefs' set.

Left Alone really isn't as bad as their band name. I liked the music better than I liked the band, or their singer and his empty bluster. "We're from Los Angeles and the traffic was bad, that's why we're late," he explained, even though the blackboard said 1st band @ 8 and they went on @ 7:40. He wore women's sunglasses thru the whole set and his motorcycle jacket has a big skull-n-crossbones spraypainted on the back, and under it, it said DIY. He had a similar logo tattooed on his neck and the band's logo spraypainted on the jacket a couple of times. They had a keyboard player where a horn player would go, updating Green Day/Rancid/LA punk tunes. The guitar player suggested that we all make a circle pit but the singer said to just get drunk like he does. About their upcoming August release--fuck it, just get drunk instead. (Hey, you heard the guy.) "I know there's another bigger show going on, but thanx for coming to see us." We all looked at each other and thought, What...other bigger show? (Besides Scissor Sisters: Eagles Of Death Metal, Avail {@ Maxwell's, so I don't know if that counts}, or the "Secret Show" @ Sin-e. I think that was one of those stupid Mysp things. Brand New. ????) He asked, "Ok, be honest here. We don't give a fuck. Who here didn't like us?" If you truly didn't give a fuck you wouldn't've asked in the 1st place, but nobody raised their hands. (I was under the assumption that it would lead to my being the butt of some joke, so I kept my opinions to myself.) "No one likes us, no one likes us. No one likes us, we don't care," he sang and then the refrain got faster. That actually was a pretty good song, complete with arms swaving overhead, although I had to wonder because no one said we didn't like them. I guess this is why they're Left Alone.

At least by starting early the Briefs would start earlier than their 9PM set time, but that meant they'd be over earlier than scheduled. Though I have to agree with Chuck Eddy on this one, that sadly their new album isn't as good as the others, I still felt bad that they came all this way to play a show--and then had to read that. "We're just gonna blast you," Chris Brief said by way of introduction--and warning. "We're gonna play through without stopping. Meaning--if we had a second for this to register: Hold on tight, kids! Once we start, it's gonna be a wild ride! Before they started, I had to make myself turn around and just look at everyone behind me; because even though when I stand up front and the band starts I feel like I'm the only person in the room, it's important to realize that I'm not. I know I said something like, Either you were there or you weren't about their gig in November. This one was pretty much the same, even surpassing that one in intensity. Maybe I found it more intense because @ The Continental, I was crowded on one of the stairs to the stage, so I had to worry about not getting pushed off and/or losing my balance. This time I was down in it, ducking every time there was a crowd surfer, because I didn't know if they were gonna hit the stage and then cannonball back in. My hips were getting bruised. For fuck's sake this is a punk show, not Lollapalooza (or Rancid, or Flogging Molly). Show some goddamned respeck. One guy jumped onstage, stole the setlist off the wall, and vaulted back into the crowd. Jesus Christ. Rudeness does not equal punk rock. Then some other guy got onstage, went right over to Chris, and since his list was sitting right on the drumkit I thought he was gonna steal it, gave him this look like, You dare me? but he just cannonballed offstage instead. Whatever happened to Pogo you fuckers? As soon as they ended, though, it was like everyone else came back into the room: What the hell is your problem, you hit me, you punched me, you were too close to me, you touched me. A major fucking downer, thanx.

I did like Horrorpops a little better on a higher stage. There was more a feeling of being in control, of playing the show and not the show playing them. "Hey, do me a favor," Patricia said a few songs in. "Look at the size of this tiny stage, and look at the size of your big butts flying overhead. If you come up here, we can't do anything. Run around, do a circle pit, but don't break the band. You can go around but you can't go up." Then: "Are we ready?" Crowd: "Wooo!" Hell Yeah! she reminded us.

Had the Briefs not taped a setlist down on the monitor in front of me, maybe I would've moved because there seemed to be just pogoing to the left of the girl next to me, but I assume they put that setlist there for me. "Don't you have enough of these?" Chris asked as he signed it. Only 1 other. "I'm gonna have to start asking you what to play and what we played last time." Er, uhm, well. I think for a sec and my mind goes blank on the list from The Continental, which I do not have. "Next time you're gonna tell me we always play that one and start playing different songs." So I point out that I never hear Come Dancing--aside from on Singles Only.

Of course there was no uptown 1. Had to go back down to Chambers. That's okay. I need the E, anyway. Oh, right, two different Chambers. Shows you how often I transfer at Chambers Street.

New York Shitty Tonite!

11 of the bands on the NY Shitty CD//Nikki & Sam's//4/22/06

I am hereby unqualified for any NYC music-writing job because even if I didn't have 2 big punk shows that weekend, I have 0 interest in seeing the Scissor Sisters at the Bowery Ballroom.

This show is a big ole double-edged sword, saying bye to the Stackers and hi to New York Shitty. First The Spunk Lads broke up last year and then moved to Jamaica, now their sometime gigmates Stackers are moving to Japan. Me? I've been thinking about Philly. I have to do something. I'm torn between staying in the city and hoping things will get better because I'm trying, believe me, or admitting defeat. Thing is, I shouldn't have to leave the city I was born in just because the yahoos are driving up the cost of living and housing. And whenever I think about it, I always used to tell myself, but my bands are here. I know the NYC rock scene. I mean, yeah, there's bands in Philly; I'm still on the R5 list ever since getting the ticket for the final Atom gig in '03. Bands do play thru there. But touring bands. Maybe I'm just being stubborn. I'm sure they have a local music scene. I'm sure it's very good. After all, there was that big article in the Times about how Philly is the 6th borough (I thought it was Jersey City, but what the hell do I know?) and all the peeps who can't afford Brooklyn anymore are moving there.

It's sad that The Spunk Lads couldn't stick it out and be part of this show. I mean, there's a reason they chose NYC for their comeback and not Philadelphia. Then again, look what happened. Again, maybe I'm just being stubborn. Anyway, enough of that. New York Shitty time! Yeah!

There actually are bands on the comp that I haven't seen yet, and I did consider getting there @ 2, when it started, but spending 9 hrs in any venue probably makes you a candidate for the nuthouse, regardless of who's on the bill. Besides, I figured if I was there for all 15 bands, there was a greater chance of being there for bands added on at the last minute, someone taking an hour to tune up or to fight over what timeslot they have, or someone going, "C'n we do 5 more? They're really fast, I promise." Stuff like that. So even tho I got the rundown of the lineup, I just picked a time that would allow for most of the bands that I like and figured on spending the day, until the show closed w/Stackers, on at 9, and figured the lineup wasn't going to happen exactly like that at all. So I left the sched home, knowing that I was going to see good bands all nite long.

It was raining when I got to Franklin St. and I found out too late that my umbrella was broken. Maybe I should've brought that schedule along. Thankfully there weren't many other major set changes--the last time I went to one of these I timed it accordingly and No Place To Piss had switched around with someone and I missed pretty much their whole set. This time they switched off w/SMUT and it didn't really matter 'cause I wanted to catch both. I gotta hand it to everybody, the set changes were quick and nobody played 10 encores. I was surprised. Tho without the band list I kinda felt lost at times; I was like, Who's playing this thing, again? What bands am I gonna see?

It was cold in there and my back started bothering me. I had to sit down thru some sets. People were standing there taking pix and the pit was going around them. Dammit, I should've brought my camera. After Sammytown Jones, I think it was Seth--I had to sit down again and the chair was off to the side of the stage (man, I should've moved the chair to the bar, across from the stage--and then parked it there all nite) said, "Spunk Lads, up next! Up next is The Spunk Lads. I mean, The Spunks!"

“We are The Spunk Lads, as announced!” Hajime said. “We’re playing this show for nothing! We’re playing this show for Stackers! Go die!” A bit later: “This is for The Spunk Lads!” and then he said something in Japanese. Al asked him to translate, and he said, “It’s raining.” Yeah, maybe The Spunk Lads are better off in Jamaica, after all. “No, it means ‘Me love you long time,’ ” said Al. They did a cover of Hajime’s “favorite band in the universe, the Clash.” “The Crash? I never heard of them before.” “Clash! Fuck English!” They covered Brand New Cadillac.

I started getting hungry at around 8. Mykal Board was there and came right up to me and told me that I look familiar. I reminded him that when I met him, he thought I looked like a Japanese woman. (Which, I gotta admit, is a nice change from the whole “What county are you from {Queens}/Where are you/your parents from {Flushing and the Bronx}/you can't be born here" routine. But then again, now that I’m too old to be chatted up in a bar, I kinda miss it. Well, not really.)

(<---It was kinda like this x 100. I know this one's all about Stackers, but this is a cool pic.) I got to take pix for Blackout Shoppers, and it would’ve been nice if I could stand there and take pix and the pit would go around me. Uh, nope. Not a chance. I didn’t even try. Damn, I should’ve brought my camera because if I screwed something up, at least I could’ve had mine as a backup and I have a zoom, however small it may be. I guess there was a reason people had cameras with big-ass zoom attachments--to zoom over the pit. Then again, the Shoppers look much better in cartoon form and I can’t compete with that. Nobody could.

(<---It was kinda like this, but x infinity.) I do regret not bringing a camera for Stackers, though. I figured I have more than enough pix of many of the bands that played, and most of them I have left to develop. Anyway, the 1st time I saw Stackers I didn't care for them that much (I also thought Distraction used to be Distraction UK and I didn't like them either. I'm pretty sure it was @ Siberia, which would explain that, at least about Stackers, and I was thinking it was probably in 2003--have I really been seeing these bands that long?) and later on, when I was going to a Spunk Lads show that Stackers were on (I think it was @ the Pyramid), and I caught them and they were great and I was like, Shit, I've been missing a good band all this time? It was an appropriately amped-up sendoff, with the pit circling and fists and feet flying, plenty of stage diving. I just stood there trying not to feel sad, trying to burn the memory into my mind so I'll always have it. They are a really good, tight punk band who have it down pat and should've gone further here than the NYS scene.
I left my umbrella behind, and I found this out after Xtene and I left to find the R train and food. It doesn't really matter since half of it was busted, anyway, but it was really pouring to the point that a broken umbrella would've been better than nothing. What I wasn't counting on, though, was the shortness of breath that suddenly befell me upon leaving the place, which made running thru the rain even better. I probably should've taken Airborne just because. Even tho Xtene just saw Supersize Me the other day, the only place open was McDonald's. She gave me her Happy Meal toy. So now we're buds. We took the N up to 42nd because I didn't have the strength to walk around to the R @ Canal. And we waited. 2 more Ns passed and there was an annoucement about trackwork. I didn't have it in me to walk around to the E, so I hoped that wasn't it. I felt a breeze. Xtene said that if the R train is next, that means that we're gonna find true love and other good things. I told her to put in something about my getting a better job and S.M.U.T. becoming wildly successful. The next train was on the downtown platform--an R. The next train on the Queensbound platform? An R.

Everyone's On Top Of The Pops

Favourite Sons/The Rogers Sisters/Art Brut//Southpaw//4/11/06

I know I said I wasn't going to see hipster bands anymore, but I only got tix for this because Roger said they were supposed to be opening for Art Brut. I considered going to the Bowery Ballroom gig but tix went onsale shortly after the whole YYY thing and I wasn't going back there unless I had to. But I saw The Rogers Sisters a while ago and liked, so it didn't matter. Which is why I passed on their rekkid release show @ Northie in March. The show was originally supposed to be on 4/12, pushing it by buying tix in advance before knowing what my family's plans were for the holiday, but when the show was moved to 4/11, I was pushing it due to a meeting at work the next morning.

The gig had a tie-in from some company called Zig Zag, which is a tabacco-product company, and they're a partner w/Spin in sponsoring the show. So free copies of Spin (oh, and rolling papers, if you're into that sorta thing) and Spin's letters to the editor were all about the last issue of Spin that I read, which is strange because I never read it unless it's free. So it's like absolutely nothing has changed in the world of pop music. I even had to think a minute where I got the last issue from--Kevin at the Hard-Fi gig. Zig Zag gals were there, repping their product and taking pix. I could totally do that. Well, not for a tabacco company (or Brooklyn Lager), but who else is better qualified to hang around a bar/club and act all excited about something?

Favourite Sons are basic indie/college rock, and I couldn't help but think that this is the kind of music that normal people like. I was trying hard, let me tell you. I didn't really like them. I know I saw The Rogers Sisters, I know it was at the Knitting Factory, but I couldn't really remember what they sounded like other than I liked them. I think it was w/Liars and the Chromatics and I couldn't help but think that they're from Williamsburg. (Hey, I'm right.) They're kinda Sonic Youth via Williamsburg. Even tho the show was sold out, everyone crowded the upper tier like they were looking for a balcony. Weird.

I'm out of touch with the cool kids, I'll admit it. I follow pop music like I follow Hollywood--by reading the headlines on magazines framing the newsstand at my subway station, hanging there like dead ducks in a restaurant window. I don't even have cable, but I know Art Brut just played Coachella and SXSW. And that's about it, primarily because--much like celebrity spawn--frankly, my dear, I just don't give a shit. So the only thing I really knew beforehand about Art Brut is their lyrics. Even someone as skeptical about all music in general can't escape that info. How Formed A Band is all about that, "Look at us, we formed a band," "This is my singing voice," and how they just want to be on Top Of The Pops. And there's a song called Emily Kane about lead singer Eddie Argos's 1st girlfriend. And that they're making fun of hipsters. That was it. And seeing as how they played Coachella and SXSW, not to mention being featured in the Onion's What's Next article and shouted out in their hi-larious minute-by-minute blow-by-blow review of said SXSW, I figured they're the type of band that you gape at adoringly and sing along with. The 1st thing I noticed that nite was that the stage @ Southie is crotch-high, as opposed to the chest-high stage @ the Bowery Ballroom, so at least there wouldn't be this feeling of detachment, of trying to see thru the 4th wall. When they came onstage, Argos kicked off his white loafers, came around the monitors, and planted himself on top of my copy of Spin in his mismatched socks. He prefaced each song with "Ready, Art Brut?" and it doesn't matter if you haven't heard a song before because you'll be singing the chorus along with them before the song is over. "I'm off my face," Argos explains. He had hay fever and took stuff for that, but it didn't work, so he thought he had the flu and started taking stuff for that, which didn't work, so then he was taking whatever pills he's been handed. It's also obvious that they're influenced by The Spunk Lads, taking their cues from the Lads's we're just like you but on the other side of the mic, we're gonna start the party, have a grand old time, get smashed, and maybe change a few lives but not necessarily in that order spirit. Their guitar player even wore a team shirt (ok, it was the Playboy team) and Rusted Guns Of Milan is the exact opposite of Sexxx Maddd. Compared to Eddie Argos, Nick Knickers is Shakespeare, (Wow, good thing I took a Shakespeare course in college, right? Who knew that would come in handy in the real world?) but maybe Art Brut is on to something after all because the Lads weren't exactly the ones selling out Southpaw. Roger and Alex were there, tearing the place apart (or just tearing down the 4th wall), and this had to be the funnest show I've seen in a long time. I've long believed that the crowd makes the show and it was definitely true that nite. "Everybody, form a band!" Argos ordered. By the end of the night, people were stage diving. I have never seen a show this wild at Southpaw. The Undertones came close (moshing for moshing's sake), but this exceeded it in crowd spirit and connection. I was just standing there with the biggest grin on my face, watching Roger and Alex, and a girl told me to use my elbows to ward them off. I just had this feeling that all of Art Brut's previous shows had an audience gaping adoringly and later on, when they ask Art Brut about memorable shows (because they always ask shit like that), they'll say, "Well, there was this wild show once in Brooklyn...." and I was at that show. It was this totally magical moment. I'm glad I went to this one and not the Bowery Ballroom shows because if I saw them @ the BB, I probably wouldn't've liked them this much. When I saw Hard-Fi @ the BB, all I took away from that show was, "Yeah, that was a pretty show." Everything looked so...nice. And in Show World, (OK, in my version of Show World) it's not enough to look nice onstage. Or it's not enough for me. It's a show, not a museum exhibit, for fuck's sake. There wasn't even that much motion and commotion for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Given my limited $ and time, I'd definitely see them again and buy the album.

Concert Joe was outside, and he told me he saw me @ SP a few weeks ago and I was in my usual spot. Uhm, yeah, he's probably right although I can't remember when I was there last. He kept insisting that he saw me at some show. It was at the tip of my brain and he's probably right, but I had no idea which show he was talking about and maybe I'm losing it. I got back @ 3. Thankfully I didn't have to hear about (market) penetration during the meeting and I made it thru. Oh, and it was the Dirtbombs show Joe was talking about but I don't consider February as a few weeks ago.

Stop The Sidewalks! Scott MX Turner Wants A Shoutout!

RebelMart @ Freddy's 4/14/06

(* Note: 1) If you found this page by accident because you were looking for the Arctic Donkeys' Alex Turner, you should stop reading this now and go read BrooklynVegan. Management regrets the fact that Arctic Donkeys are huge in the first place. B) Yes, I know that Scott and Diane are lefties, but I was gettin bored of left justifying the pix and, as the saying goes, lefties are all right. Q) I was looking for a pic that was correct, guitarwise, but Scott and Diane were wearing different clothes for the gig than they did in this pic, the show was a year and 4 days later, and I wasn't standing midfloor, to the right. Now that we've gotten that out of the way....)

They were sitting on either side of the 2-seaters on the G train that nite, backs to the windows and feet on the seat next to them, and sharing ear buds from an iPod. They had to be around 16. They each wore flannel shirts over their nondescript Ts and as teenagers go these days, they were dressed fairly conservatively. The one who was holding the Pod wore glasses and had on a studded bracelet. His friend had on black Converse sneakers. They were taking their small acts of rebellion very seriously, concentrating on the music. In an urgent voice, the friend said, "When this is done, play the Ramones next."
****
At first read I thought I wasn't going to be able to go to this show, not knowing how late we'd get done on Saturday and needing to make it to Freddy's from Flushing and not knowing when I'd have to leave, being at the beginning of the 7 line. And that time I left Flushing early to make it to Laila's by 9:30 on my dad's birthday didn't go over very well. (I should've just skipped it, bided my time, and gone straight to the Bowery Ballroom 'cause I had !!! tix. Wait, no, I shouldn't've gotten the !!! in the 1st place, and not just to save myself a heaping of {self-inflicted} guilt. But in the grand scheme of things it all worked out.) But it worked out this time as well, with the RebelMart show putting the good in Good Friday. I was going to request songs, but I figured I didn't stand a chance this time around and have done enough damage already. (For the record, it was '76 when Scott was in HS, dunno how old the Hanson Brothers were in '76.)

I took Thursday off. I went to Bowne Park w/my nephew, down all these streets I walked countless times as a kid, past the building I grew up in, the grocery store I used to go to. I wanted to get a pic of the next generation in the kiddie swings in PS 20's playground, even though my swings are gone, due to the school expanding and taking over the front yard. Also gone is the sandbox that never had any sand, but did have plenty of crack vials that we used to sort according to cap color because we thought we were being helpful. We made "Devil's Playground" in the Daily News's survey of worst city schoolyards. (Go us!) In the rear playground, in addition to the handball court, were stairs to a slide but the slide was missing. (Yes, I used to climb up all the time and be too afraid to get back down.) It's much nicer now, and I couldn't help but think: Why couldn't it be like this when I was a kid? On Bowne Street, past all the countless buildings that I wanted to live in, I wondered what my life would've been like had I lived there instead. What would my life be like had we never moved from Queens? I used to wonder this a lot, since a lot has happened since, and a lot for the worse, a lot out of our control. 15 years. From time to time I used to wonder what music I'd be listening to now, had we never left. Gangsta rap? Top 40? R&B? Reggaeton? That Thursday, though, someone, somehow, told me that it didn't matter. Let it go. That if I hadn't left, I wouldn't have what I have now. I'm not talking about the bad parts, my day-to-day, but the good--the music. Everything I have now, everything that's right in my life, is due to these past experiences. These experiences made me seek out the music I did.

What does all this have to do with RebelMart? Nada much, sorry. But I've always felt that I have 2 families--the one I'm related to and the one I chose.
***
I never found out the pacific reason we couldn't go down Pacific St., but when I got to the intersection, it was blocked off and police cars were parked haphazardly, cops loitering in front of them. They told me to cut thru the Modell's parking lot, except I needed to go in the other direction. So it was back down and around to Dean. It felt all weird because that's not how I go. And in keeping with my streak of getting hurt at shows, getting hurt at shows in Brooklyn, getting hurt at shows where Scott plays, getting hurt at shows that Scott plays in Brooklyn, etc etc, when I was talking to Diane before the show, she dropped some change and we both bent down to pick it up, collided, and I got an eyefull of Diane's butt--literally. I guess this means we're friends now.

See, I wasn't even going to write this up since I've reviewed him so many times before, but since Scott announced the site (thanx) in hopes of a writeup, I will. (Hi.) Leave it to a Scorpio to out-Leo a Leo. Then again, when he mentioned the site the only people who were still there know RebelMart, the man and his music, way better than I do so I don't have to, (and I have other stuff to write about and no easy computer access, and I have to read this a bazillion times over to make sure it's worthy) but I will. (:P) And then when he was giving out the address I was thinking that it was too long, that maybe the Smiths were onto something. Or it should've been catchier, like Queens Carnivore, since I devour music. I almost brought my camera, but I have enough pix already and not enough money to get film developed. Too bad, when I get the pix developed some time next year we could've all gotten a good laff at Scott's short-lived fuzzy face phase.

It was standing room only in the Backroom, and I had to stand on the rung of my stool for a bit. But thankfully people moved because that would not be a wise thing to continue to do. Diane said she had a bad feeling about it--don't know if she meant the show or me standing on the rung of a stool. Maybe both. My eye was bothering me since I do wear contacts, but it's fine now. (I would add "unlike my toe," but I won't.) Scott did do a good job of clearing the place out, but they were the peeps talking thru the set so he did us all a favor. I wanted to move up, but I thought the gang at the middle table was going to come back.

I guess I could dissect Scott's every lyric and factor in the phase of the moon (exactly how Christgau writes a review--add in some obscuro reference to lyrics involving the moon and it's Chuck Eddy), but if you think that sounds boring imagine how I'd feel writing it. I need a wheel of adjectives like in the Sprint commercial. That's how I should write every review from now on, by spinning the wheel of adjectives. It's funny, the wrong kind of asshole for America is the right kind of asshole for Brooklyn. After the set, Scott was outside and Elvis Costello was on the jukebox. Scott thinks he could be big. (See, I'd changed the "Scott thinks he could be big" to "thinks Costello could be big," even though it's glaringly obvious that the he in question is Costello and not, in fact, RebelMart. But I changed it back because not only is "he could be big" what Scott really said, {way to remember people's actual convo, 'ey?} I don't think Scott thinks he himself could be big. But I digress.) I dunno. Maybe. Costello's got that retro, keyb-heavy, new-wavey beat that everybody likes. I can see him opening for We Are Scientists. I was reading the L on the way back, not because I really wanted to but because it's free and I wanted something to keep me from getting sucked into conversations with others on the train. Except the schizo across from me on the E was laughing pretty loudly as he picked his toes and then started yelling for people to kill him, and worse things. Their review for The Notorious Bettie Page spelled Bettie with a Y in the article. Sigh. Though I'm sure Scott would've pointed out that they only gave Serenity one L as proof of their incompetence.

On Saturday morning, I'd had enough of no music in my apartment. I bent down to put a CD in and what do you think was in front of my CD player? (Hint: The CD player is on the floor next to my desk.)

The envelope full'a receipts.

If my life weren't this screwed up, I'd be laughing.

But I did smile. What can I say? That is a great version of Right Back Where We Started From.

Death & Taxes

Sunday nite I was eating dinner and for a sec the room got brighter. I figured a light bulb was about to blow out and looked up to see the glass bowl over the bulbs fall from the ceiling. I suppose I could've tried to catch it, if I wasn't just sitting there stunned and eating dinner, but it hit my foot and then shattered on the floor. If I were sitting just a fraction over, it would've landed on my head. Damn my terrible luck--I mean, wow, thank God, I have a renewed sense of life, know I have a purpose, blah blah. I'm just glad it didn't hit the cat or fall when I was asleep because it would freak me out. The fixture over my sink exploded a few years ago when I was asleep. And my bathroom ceiling looks like it's going to come down again.

So I Did my taxes the next day, Monday, and I hate doing it. It's pointless, because whatever I get back is just about equal to what I have to pay out, not counting the cost of getting it done. It still pales in comparison to what I spend physically that nite, sitting there like I'm in AA or something and I've fallen off the wagon bigtime and I now have to be held accountable for my actions. I never used to claim donations and medical expenses because a long time ago they said that they figure in an allowance automatically that's, like, $2000 for charity and $5000 for medical and if I don't go over that amount, it doesn't matter what my actual expenses were. Last year, though, after the woman put in my earnings, she then asked for donations--big money big money no whammy no whammy (Seriously, that is exactly what I think when I sit there)--how much I spent on my contacts, etc. I said I didn't have any receipts and she still figured that in, asked me to guess and make it up. It's funny, I spent so much on shows last year and every year that I never counted the benefits. Besides, I give from my heart, not because I want something back on my taxes. (Or even a thank you.) What do they expect me to do, get receipts from every show that's a benefit? That's so tacky. I'm sure by next year I'll forget all about the $1 I pitched in for the apple at the ABC No Rio benefit.

And what about when the cause is the band? The shows I go to in hopes that whoever will get asked back, or the band members will be able to pay their rent. Maybe I should factor in the emotional support I give. It's funny that 2 of the commercials for taxcut.com had a guy at a copy shop getting his resume done and everything he did--from getting coffee to taxis to a hotel room--was labeled deduction. The other one had a band rehearsing and amps and guitar strings and pedals were the deductions. It's funny, because I kinda felt like I had some hope after seeing that.

The woman filling all the blanks in had little diamond studs on her jacket and skirt, and for some reason that made me feel a little better. She asked for my statements and I took out my envelopes. "You didn't open them yet?" Uhm. As she sat there putting in numbers and my address, asking me yes and no questions, I thought that I could do that. All it is is data entry. I think. She asked about my medical expenses, if they were over $1731. I said no, but it was close. Damn my honesty. I'd told her I was looking but she didn't ask for my receipts. I couldn't find 'em, anyway. I thought they were in an envelope in one of the piles on my desk. Watch, I'll clean my desk to get the computer in and I'll find them. But I did finally find the Briefs' Singles Only CD, which I was looking for for a while. After it was all done, she said she'll see me next year. I told her that I hoped to have better news then. She said that I will.

As I was signing the credit card receipt, the receptionist said, "You're just like me. I still have my jacket." I never would've figured a receptionist at H&R Block would have a motorcycle jacket, but I guess you never know. "They're really hard to find." I smiled, even though I just paid through the nose to face a firing squad and have my denial crushed. "I tried to get another, but they gave me a plastic one."

Oh. She meant the fabric/paper jacket for my credit card. I knew that.

White Riot

The War's End/The Challenged/The Code/Brain Failure/Against All Authority
The Knitting Factory, 4/6/06

I went to this more out of curiosity than anything, and it was a tossup betw this and Anti-Flag @ Irving, also out of curiosity. The Casualties and the AKAs were on the A-F bill, and I really want to see the AKAs. The Unseen were on that bill, also, but I saw them already. (So they're really not Unseen, now, are they?) I like Brain Failure (the band, not actual brain failure). Both Anti-Flag and Against All Authority have been around for a while, and my reasons for not checking out either band are pretty much the same.

Anti-Flag has always struck me as the Clash for The Simpsons generation. Their 1st influence listed is Joe Strummer & the Clash. (I always thought it was the Clash and Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros, but what the hell do I know). And, oooh, Anti-Flag! Won't Mom and Dad shit a brick when I come home (to my house in suburban Long Island/New Jersey/Westchester) in my bad-ass Anti-Flag shirt with their upside-down flag logo! I'm a rebel! I'm so punk rock that I'm against the flag and by extension, I'm against America!

But I thought that I could be wrong. I've never even heard an Anti-Flag song and I shouldn't jump to conclusions based on visuals and logos. After all, that ain't the punk rock way. And Intro5pect is on A-F Records. But further research revealed that Anti-Flag actually has a song called You've Been To Our Show, Now Go To A Fucking Protest (Yeah? Well, I've already been to a few fucking protests but not their fucking show) and they look like total douchebag Hot Topic punx. And besides, I don't have $15.75 to stand in the balcony of Irving Plaza for a punk rock show (whose post would've been titled Freedomhaters, Unite!) and it's Passover. (Score {another} one for the H: "Sure, war sucks, but a whole CD of war sucks! gets old fast...buy our rad CD, DVD, logo T, mouse pad, and oh yeah, war sucks...a retread of the Reagan-is-Satan '80s hardcore but w/online merch...C-")

The AAA show is $10, however, and The Challenged, who I always keep missing, are on that bill. I have the same rationale about Against All Authority. Anarchy roolz! Authority sucks! Their logo apes the Triple A logo, and it's so punk rock to goof on a corporate logo. And The Code, who for some reason sound familiar, sounded potentially cool, with their influences from many unlikely sources, they say, like ska and political rap groups. Politically and socially conscious, and all that good stuff.

For someone who was only mildly curious about AAA, I was definitely twitchy before the show, jumping up and standing in the hallway, fidgeting, unable to concentrate on the Onion, going back to the bar, going to the bathroom, loitering in the hallway, checking my watch. There was a jocky guy in a Straight Edge shirt that said Hold your beer while I kiss your girl. (Oh, and with the mandatory Xs.) At least he's being honest that he hopes his belief system will help him score with chicks. Wow, I feel so much less threatened already. I guess this approach isn't helping, because his cologne was knocking me out.

The War's End was added to the bill later and though the drummer was sporting a big mohawk and padlock, their singer, with his curly, shoulder-length hair, looked like the kind of guy who could be in, say, a metal band or a jam band depending on what he was wearing. And his rock-guy-onstage moves seemed a bit scripted. S/E Guy was flailing around, his backpack still on, again almost knocking me out. Fer crying out loud, put the damn thing down. This isn't recess where someone's gonna pick it up and play keep-away. The Challenged say they're Brooklyn's last pop-punk band, and at least they didn't keep mining the traumas of adolescence for material, whoa-oh-oh, like many pop-punk bands do.

The Code were next and then I had to wonder where the cool band I thought I was going to see was. Singer Marcdefiant's shirt had an anti-W logo (You're against Bush, too? OMG! Which way to the merch table?) with a drippy, spraypainted red circle and that was pretty cool because I've never seen one like that before. So I was expecting a band in motion--dancing/rocking out motion. Their site seemed promising enough, though when he was going on and on about their many, many influences on their style that never name one band, and quoting themselves, I was thinking, Fer cryin out loud, just say the Clash and shut up already and Isn't this is the part that the band writes? Stop acting like you're giving an interview/sound bites. "Will remind all fans of the genre why they fell in love with punk rock in the 1st place." Maybe it was just me, because even though I was able to avoid the pit and later the surfers and divers, I was still bleeding pretty badly at the end of the nite. "No facades, no pretentions, undying punk spirit, keeping the spirit of 77 alive w/o succumbing to polished and vapid trends...." Okay, yes, I get it. I'm there. But where were the "catchy and memorable songs"? Where's the rap influences? One of their T-shirts has a big boom box on it. I thought it was just very angry young white man. Maybe the CDs are better and it was just Marcdefiant's delivery that I had a problem with. Their ska-ish songs were the ones I liked best. At times Marcdefiant crouched down at the front of the stage, all the boys huddling together at his feet, grabbing onto him, raising fists in his face, and singing along. He asked who there has seen The Code before and the guys all cheered, and Marcdefiant (yes, it's getting annoying to keep writing that nom de punk) mentioned that they played NYC opening for the Dead Kennedys. Oh, right, I knew I saw that name someplace. And the guys at his feet all cheered. They're the type of band that would get compared to the Clash and/or called a political punk band and then turn around and complain about it because they're so much more than that. One interesting thing, tho: Their drummer quit in the middle of the tour so they had AAA's drummer filling in. "Alert, Aware, Involved may very well become a primary influence for countless bands to come." Give me a fucking break. Aren't you still writing that part, trying to make it sound like your press release, or that you have a PR agent writing that, even tho having a PR agent isn't punk rock? And if that album is going to become a primary influence for countless bands, we're all screwed.

"I love this band more than life!" said The War's End's drummer, taking his place in front of the stage. Marcd said that Brain Failure puts a smile on his face because he likes seeing new faces at shows. (What, Asian kids instead of the usual whiteboys at your own shows?) They had a much bigger pit and a better reception than the last time around that I saw them. So that put a smile on my face because it was nice to see.

They're from Miami and they've been around since 1992, but I don't know if Against All Authority can be considered a ska band in the usual sense because they need way more members to be a ska band in the traditional (read: commerical) sense, like a full horn section, not just the occaisonal trumpet. So it sounded more hardcore with ska overtones, which was good for stage diving. Kinda fun, not terrible.

Still.

"It made me miss The Spunk Lads."
"They had a reunion?" While I was trying to figure out what the hell Xris was talking about, he continued: "I didn't get an email about that."
"Oh. No, they didn't have a reunion. I meant it made me miss The Spunk Lads as a band in general. If they did have a reunion I wouldn't be here."

ABC No Electro

Joe Piglet/The Cankickers/Bread & Roses/Erik Petersen//ABC No Rio//4/2/06

I almost didn't go to this and it was almost BBQ By The BQE. Boss Martians were playing Magnetic Fields and even tho they're okay, I still haven't been to Magnetic Fields, and the $8 included a BBQ. Then I saw the benefit for ABC and I wanted to go, the bands sound cool, but I'd already planned on going to Magnetic Fields. Yeah, but this is a benefit for ABC No Rio; that's important, I told myself. Then I saw that there's going to be a BBQ for the ABC show, and it's a dollar less. (I probably shouldn't've said that out loud.) And for a good cause. Hey, I'm poor not cheap.

Joe told us to sit down since he was going to be sitting down, passed around candles, and dimmed the lights. I freaked out for a sec with everyone shifting positions, passing open fires around, and then holding lit candles in a packed room. He said it was to distract us from his guitar playing, but that wasn't Joe's problem. I've only seen the Stockyard Stoics maybe 5X and the hardcore folksinging was quite a switch. I honestly didn't know what to make of the 1st 2 songs, but by the 3rd song, it all kicked in. Joe also passed around a tray of bits of veggie dogs to roast over the candles, and then Teddy Grahams, miniature marshmallows, and chocolate chips for s'mores and I worried that there'd be no need to raise funds to renevate the bldg because at the rate we were going, there wouldn't be any bldg. He closed with a song about hating aggressive skinheads at shows and had a guy come up to wear a bald cap to play the skinhead as well as drawing a mustache on him in order to play a cop busting up a fight. "The humor doesn't really come across when we're plugged in," he said at one point, but it does.

It turns out that the veggie burgers had corn in it, so I guess that's what I get for choosing to go to the benefit only because it was less money. The Cankickers are a folky, acoustic, olde tymey Americana trio complete with fiddle, harmonica, and banjo who also happened to kick some serious ass, if not cans. (Then again, maybe that's what they mean by Cankickers--except their sticker had beer cans on it.) I wished we weren't in a tiny packed room so we could all have a proper barnstorming and dance around. Their drummer was out of control, standing behind his kit and really laying into it and working up a total sweat.

After that we were all milling about, eating BBQ, I waited for them to fire up the apple kabobs, and I went back into the performance space to wait, pissed that I didn't have anything to read and what's taking everyone so long to do something. Then I hear music outside. Bread & Roses were playing in the backyard garden and it was a cool sight to behold, this 6-piece folkpunk band w/upright bass, fiddle, and mandolin outside in a city garden, creating and playing music in the midst of these buildings. It was packed outside and the weather was great, but the chills I got were from this band and the vibe. They're called an anarchist band in Wikipedia, but they're more anarchronists. They're from Boston, and I can only hope that if RebelMart ever has a gig with them there, it's near the Chinatown bus station so I can go. And that it's on a weekend. Because that would be one worthy of a trip like that.

I have to admit that I had no idea who this Erik Petersen guy was until he set up his merch. I suppose I could've done a search on him like I did for The Cankickers and Bread & Roses (or maybe I'm just out of touch), but I figured that if he's on a bill like this, there's a good chance he's probably worthy. If Dan Bern and Ani DiFranco had a son, it would be Erik Petersen. With a guitar way too pristine for his music and a Dickies guitar strap (red stars, of course), his 1st song was about getting rid of Under God and moving on to the liberty part. The next one was Boycott Me! The whole room was singing every word and I couldn't help but laugh because this was like seeing Dan Bern 10 years ago--and I just saw Scott do this the other day, and do it better. "Hi, I'm Erik Petersen and I call what I do Mischief Brew."

Now, I know that all the subcatergories in the Voice's Best-Of issue are totally made up with the specific winner already in mind, but how is it humanly possible that someone from Philly won "Best Anarchist Political Folk-Punk Singer" in the "best of NYC" issue and Scott MX Turner didn't? Also, I realize that my RMart review sounded incredibly half-assed and dismissive, but I couldn't help but compare the 2 (and I had that job thing on my mind) and I didn't want to tip my hand about what was to come and after spending $25.68 the next day at Kinko's to get it finished did I realize that I should've written that a fuller review is in the November archives and/or to check back here in the near future. It's just that the things I had a problem with about Mischief Brew really brought home for me everything that's right about RebelMart. With Mischief Brew, I just got the feeling that Petersen approaches MB by standing back and looking at the big picture and doesn't see the beauty of an individual brushstroke, can't see the forest for the trees. It's kinda the same feeling I got the last few times I saw Dan Bern perform. And I kept looking around at the crowd, still singing every word, trying to see if I recognized anyone from Dan's shows--and trying to gauge how old they were. Because I also got the feeling that Dan Bern is the missing link to all this and it's like an important evolutionary step was skipped, if that makes any sense. The way he started out brought to mind someone impatient to get his chance on the soapbox so he pushed to the front of the line before he forgot what he was going to say and doesn't reach people on an individual basis. I also thought he was a little bit of a snarky wiseass (after all, his slogan is "Folk The System"), a feeling you don't get from seeing RebelMart, who is a bit more poised and confident when performing. (Wait, did I just say that RebelMart is mature? Well, I'm at the Internet Cafe and just at a sandwich that's been sitting around for a while, so I'm probably delirious.) And even though that was the 1st time I saw Mischief Brew and only had 2 pix left because I'm trying to save film, I pretty much doubt I'd ever get as cool a pic of him as I have of Scott. Funny thing about the Mischief Brew site, tho: he uses the quote/unquote "Spunk Lads Font." I couldn't help but feel happy from hearing him (because it just proves that RebelMart has a shot at it) and yes, people do mosh to anarchist political folk-punk singers (See, that's another reason I love Turner's version of Town That I Loved So Well--I'm picturing the crowd rocking out and bouncing off each other and off walls), and people do throw money at their merch table. He closed with Jawbreaker's Boxcar: "You're not punk and I'm telling everyone, save your breath I never was one.... One, Two, Three, Four, who's punk, what's the score?"

Still, I was even singing along at some points. And there are worse things for Petersen to do than doing Mischief Brew, I guess, like being a former member of a boy band, being a Bush supporter. Stuff like that.

Jobs Lost And Found

It was for an event photographer, the job that I applied for before going to see RebelMart. I was thinking that if there ever were a job that I could land, it would be that one. I checked the guy's site and it's kinda like Murphguide, but run by someone like Lee Sobel. It's one of those cocktail party/networking groups and it seemed like a startup kinda place. I almost didn't send my resume because we had to send a picture and let's face it, my face is made for the back end of a camera. A lot of those events staff postings on Craigslist specifically ask that the applicants be attractive. One was for some "organization" looking to bring attractive women to their events and posts that require a photo I ignore right off the bat because I assume they're just from a bunch of horny guys who wanna look at pix of women on company time. But then I thought that maybe they just wanna be sure that the applicant doesn't have facial piercings or green hair, stuff like that. The pix were required because we'll be the "face" of the company, as the ad said.

It paid $10/$15/hr, DOE, and I sent my resume and cover letter, stating how perfect I am for the job because I'm always "the one with the camera" at every party/family gathering/office party. I also debated sending them a link to the site, but did because I have pix on there and maybe they'd think I know people and have connections, even though I don't. I almost didn't because of the obvious--I'm not exactly going on and on about, say, the upcoming Madonna tour, or have pix of myself and my crew grinning and hugging at bars, showing off our alcohol. Then as I was trying to scan in my picture I thought maybe, if I have to meet with these people (or others in the future), I should get a small photo album and get more prints of my pix made. But that's going to cost money.

If I did get the job, it would offset film developing and I can claim all my film on my taxes. Well, I'm going to do that anyway, but there's a better chance of having it stick if I did land it. But even after I sent the resume, I realized that I kinda didn't want the job, and I'm not just being a sore loser. Aside from the fact that they'd have the link to the site and that would mean I can't write about them (well, I still could, but knowing me they'd find out about it and I'm not the one to bite the hand that feeds me), the events are at nite and that means no shows, at least in the beginning til I catch up on some money, and the events are at bars and places that I don't go to--Crunch Fitness, the Hamptons, Club Med, ski resorts, yuppie bars. I'm enough of an outcast as it is and I'd be watching the rich people (or those who care about others thinking that about them) in action, with their expensive drinks, nice clothes, etc., After a while it would start getting to me, the have not observing the haves--women with their cosmos, French manicures, and spikey heels, guys in suits and blue dress shirts, shiny teeth and gelled hair, and Coronas and Bud Lites. And then when would I have the time to write this?

And when I was at that record fair afterparty, there was an exhibit going on in the Gallery with band photos. I took one look at them and realized that I'm not a photographer. Then again, maybe they did have to edit the pix. And maybe, with enough perspective--like enough years have gone by and I'm not the one looking at my work, just maybe....

I got the rest of the Rock Revue pix done. Hey, either I spend the $45 now or I spend it next year. I hear the folks at Gibson are itching to see them. So who knows, right?

April Is The Punkest Month

NY Underground Record Fair Afterparty
Don Juan Destroyer/Boots & Bracelets/Bootleg Blondie/Rotten Shambles/Fillmore Slim/ Unatural Desaster
@ CBGB Gallery & Lounge //4/1/06

Another weekend, another 4-pack of film. And I love how people manage to ring up staggering credit card debt but I send my bill out a week late--and in full--and my card is declined. By that evening I couldn't remember if it was $7 @ 8PM or $8 @ 7PM, but I was already in Homer Simpson mode: "I like bands!" I considered spending the xtra $ to go to the record fair earlier that day ($10 for the rekkid fair and afterparty) because, well, it's records and CDs that I can paw thru. But I don't have a lot of money for CDs as it is and the ad said a lot of the vendors were collectors and knowing my luck, I'd find some rare Spunk Lads vinyl and spend way too much money on it and hate myself for it--or not spend the money and hate myself for it. I got there a little before 8 (when it was supposed to start), there was already a band screaming in the basement, and they only charged me $5. See, I assumed that since they said CBGB Gallery, the bands would play in The Gallery, after the record fair. Turns out the fair and party was a 2-floor event, there were no times listed, and they didn't even post which bands were playing where.

There wasn't any one band in particular that I was dying to see, but a few sounded cool and I like bands. But since they told me it was downstairs, that's where I started. I did want to see Dissemble, and I figured that if the show started at 8, I could find out what was what when I was there. I didn't even check the ad in the paper because I just figured I was going to see a bunch of possibly good (stupid opitimism) bands and the last time I was able to check the fair website, there were a few more bands added at the last minute. Of course. I think the band screaming when I came in was Dissemble. There was a piece of paper that said Up/Down that I found lying on the counter and that had the split but no times listed.

People were sprawled all over the disgustazoid furniture down there and at first I thought that the next band onstage were going to talk on their cellphones all nite. The drummer sat down and got on his cell and then the bass player/singer. If your band is onstage, you should not be on the phone. Unless you're waiting for a call about an organ transplant or something, in which case you shouldn't be onstage in the 1st place. They're Don Juan Destroyer and they sounded exactly like a band that would come up with a name like that, playing what I assume they assume is hard rock. "Thanks for coming out to see us!" the over-eager bass player said. There was a guy walking around in what was supposed to be an Elvis jumpsuit and she called him Edward Scissorhands. Toward the end she asked the sound guy how many songs they had left. He said 1, but they can do 2. "Can we do 3?" (He shook his head no.) "Whatever, man." And they did their 3. You rebels. You showed him.

Boots & Bracelets, who I did want to see, were up next. They're a female-fronted punk band whose sound/style is in the Lady Unluck/SMUT vein and they can kick your ass and they had the guys up front eating out of their hands and stripping. Breaking Bottles and Breaking Hearts as their EP promises. I was like, Yes! You guys kick ass! Thank God, because I was starting to think that I should've gone to see LSC afterall. I was all ready to change my mind about not seeing SMUT on the 13th cuz I'm going to see them on the 22nd but then remembered that it's Passover. After their set, Michelle Razor said for everyone to go upstairs, and I was wondering if the whole show was moving back upstairs or go upstairs if you wanted to talk to them after or what, but I go upstairs anyway and Bootleg Blondie is already onstage.

I'm not going to go into it about how I feel about tribute bands in general, but I guess if you look as close as Bootleg Blondie's Deborah Harris, what else can you do in life, right? Part of me hated it on principle, but if the Yanx have the Fab Faux, I guess the Wanx can do Blondie. Besides, all these female fronted, nu-wave punk bands are just trying to be Blondie anyway. Why not come right out and be Blondie? And that's another problem: Yes, the songs are good, we know that, but.... Did I come pretty close to convincing myself that I've somehow been miraculously transported back in time? Not even. Besides the fact that if that were the case we'd be next door, it was like finding a knockoff designer bag on Canal St. Or what finding a knockoff designer bag on Canal St. must be like since I don't do that, but you get my drift. When they found out that they had 1 left, Debbie went offstage for a costume change and the guitar player said, "This is Blondie's 6th #1 hit!" and soloed until Debbie came back onstage in some duct-taped ensemble. Maria did not even sound close. I guess they think the "Hee hee! We're seeing Blondie!" vibe makes up for the discrepancy. I guess this makes the quip about The Sounds that once ran in the Voice about if you ever wanted to see Blondie in their prime, see The Sounds is now obsolete.

So after Bootleg Blondie was Rotten Shambles, from Maryland, an obnoxious glam rock band who think that being obnoxious and in your face=putting on an exciting rock show. That's a crying shame. Guys with LES rockboy haircuts and skintight jeans and they asked where the afterparty is. Uh, you're playing it. They actually have a song that goes "Hey, hey, hey, Cinderella, I wanna be your fella." They said to go downstairs to see Fillmore Slim and since the next drumkit up had Candiria, Lamb of God, Arch Enemy, etc stickers all over it I figured they'd be metal so I did go downstairs, and that's the band that had the guy in the Elvis-esque getup. Being in an Elvis suit can never help a band, especially one that's Fillmore Slim, with their wannabe glam trash stylings. "I'm a dog, I'm a dirty dog, do you wanna get dirty w/me?" Uh, no. And "Party of 3," about the ladies that make them crazy. Yeah, how much you wanna bet dude looked like a lady? So it was back upstairs for Unatural Desaster's grindcore. By the end of their set my back was bothering me so I left. Not like I didn't have a full sched the next day.

Brooklyn Boys Just Break Yr Heart

RebelMart/Les Sans @ Freddy's Backroom, 3/29/06

(There are many pix more classic than this one that I could've gone with, admittedly, but I wanted one that was taken @ Freddy's. Actually, the pic I wanted to use is a great shot of Scott sitting in front of the front window @ Freddy's writing a setlist, but I couldn't find the disk. I don't have a scanner and coulda gone to Kinko's, but I'm broke. And I don't know how to use a scanner. Second choice was the one where he's uncorking a bottle of champagne on NYE because, hell, that's also a great shot, but I wanted a pic of Scott where he's playing Scott.)

Brooklyn bard Scott MX Turner almost ran for beep of his beloved borough. I tried to be supportive and all, so I never told him that as much as the political world needs him, the music world does, too. I can't remember what point in The Spunk Lads' tumultuous reunion this was, but I was thinking, Yeah, that's nice of you, but what about your music? Then again, if anyone could convince Ratner to leave Brooklyn the fuck alone it would be Scott. He managed to convince me that I'm a rock critic, a decent enough photographer, and my "a funny thing happened on the way to/at/back from the gig" ramblings are a book rather than hundreds of pages printed out. And then when he told me that he's bringing his joie d'vivre to Brooklyn transplants Les Sans Culottes, I thought, but I'd never tell him, (see, I am learning) Yeah, that's nice of you, but what about your music? I'm sure I'm not the only person who thought that, so tonite's RebelMart show is the answer we've all been waiting/hoping for.

After spending a good amount of time and mmoney taking care of business on a PC @ Kinko's, I then needed a design station PC and the ones on 7th Ave were either broken or being used. So I ran down to 21/6th and spent more time and money trying to teach myself to use a scanner--and quickly. I was done a little after 7 and I figured all was good because Scott was going on @ 9:30. Right? Why am I thinking this isn't right? I wondered as I headed up the block to the subway. So I turned right back around and double-checked. 9PM. Shit. By the time I get home it would be 8 and then I have to turn around and head out on 3 subways and hope they were running w/o problems. Go straight to Freddy's? But I want to put my bag down. But what am I supposed to do until the show starts? I thought I could at least catch a nap on the subway. But that's cutting it close and I'll be running around. Hit the ATM and get a sandwich? But I have so much stuff coming up and leftovers at home. At some point a voice in my head points out that it's not gonna start exactly at 9, but since when do I listen to the voices in my head--especially when they make sense, especially when I think I'm going to be late for shows I've been psyching up for. I froze again at 23rd and deliberated right outside the subway station. I went home.

I probably should've taken the F coming 1st at Jackson Heights as a sign but I guess I was making myself distraught right from the get-go. A cop gets on and tries to rouse a homeless man schlumped over on himself. "Sir! Sir, are you okay? Get up!" and I'm thinking, don't stop the train over this. Of course the guy across from me has his backpack on the 2-seater next to him and the cop doesn't bat an eye. I land at 14th St in record time; almost 8:30 by my watch but by the time I walk thru to the 2/3 and hope all the rerouting on that line is going to take place late at nite or over the weekend, the clock says 8:36. I like living dangerously, I tell myself as soon as I hit the platform, then lean over to check for train lights. Ok, and from here it's only, what, 4 stops. Perfect timing. I'm good. but it's really 4 stops to Brooklyn, then 5 stops in Brooklyn. Shit. But a few of those stops are really quick and close together. I tell myself again that the show isn't starting exactly at 9, but I guess I was just worked up about getting there, being there, and seeing Scott play. But the train crept out of Chambers at such a dramatically slow pace. It seemed like it took forever to move out of the station completely and by the time my car was out we were entering Park Place. I kept staring at the route list, looking at the clock display, worrying when it kept flashing the stop we're at, the stop coming, and then the time. We got to Atlantic at 9 and when I left the station, the Metrocard reader said 9:03. Upstairs, though, I realized my back was bothering me. Great. Walking up Pacific, I figured I must've been on the edge of my seat, literally, worried that I was going to miss something. Of course I was early, but my worry was understandable.

Maybe Scott should've run for boro prez after all. I mean, he cares about Brooklyn a hell of a lot more than the beep they've got now and he's not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve--whether the subject be Brooklyn, Ireland, baseball, politics, politics in Brooklyn and Ireland--as his solo work makes clear. As much as his songs stand perfectly fine on their own, they're that much better when he has a little help from his friends, whether it's Diane George playing tin whistle on Dragons Dancing or violin virtuoso Jeff on Devil Down In The Water. When he did his cover of Right Back Where We Started From, Scott said that the song was on the radio when he was in high school and if we know the song, we'd know the year. I know he mentioned the year in the liner notes and I realized that being w/o computer, I'm w/o a CD-Rom drive and I haven't listened to music in my apt. in months and I really should make an effort to make it over to my stereo. At that point Scott asked if we could guess what year it was that he was in HS and I could see his liner notes in my head but wasn't sure so I guessed '71 anyway. I was off by 5 and Scott was none-too-thrilled at my gaffe and then went on that I could've counted back or subtracted. As if I'm good in math. I tried to explain my being w/o computer and haven't been listening to music so I haven't looked at his liner notes in a while. (You'd think he'd be happy that I always remember when his bday is, even tho I forgot how old he is--as if I don't have enough stuff on my mind as it is. And he got books for his last 2 bdays, books that I don't even have copies of, and I wrote the damned things. You'd think he'd be happy that I've listened to his CD more than once and read his liner notes; I coulda just told him I liked the CD but really tossed it in a drawer w/o even listening to it. Or only listened to it once.) He closed with Town That I Loved So Well for me, accompanied by Diane and Jeff, complete with flubbed lines, Jeff's violin becoming unplugged and Benjoya cutting in front of my table to fix it and totally blocking my view and I asked them to start over but they didn't, and with Scott interrupting himself to go off on tangents and when they finished I requested that they do the song over. They still didn't. I guess I had that coming to me. And I'd also requested Right Back Where We Started From, so there.

(Acutally, I almost didn't use any pix because I had problems uploading this one and if I couldn't use both, I wasn't gonna use any. The new computer at work is like going from walking to having an Astin Martin, my ass. That, and I screwed something up when I installed the Kodak software. I won't tell if you won't.)

Les Sans, the acoustic version of Les Sans Culottes, was strange. First of all, mostly everyone in the band was seated, I was sitting, and Edith Pissoff was absent. (Per'aps back in France for the protests.) You were able to hear the lyrics better (or maybe it's just me; this was the 1st time I was able to forgo the earplugs) and people were laughing and I kept thinking, But they're not funny! They're fun! There's a difference! I felt like I was at a cafe. It was like the 2 train leaving Chambers; slow, but you got the feeling that they're gonna take off at any second and really go, because that's we expect from LSC. During their 1st song, I was thinking, Are their songs really that long? Cause they don't feel as long in the context of regular, plugged-in LSC. After Scott's set ended with Town That I Loved, I was in the mood to rock out and LSC was so laid-back that I ended up in a silly mood, perhaps from the rocking-out energy manifesting in a different way.

I'm sure The Red Barbers were glad that I couldn't stay for Stump The Band--I mean, Spontaneous Combustion. I had a few genres in mind, but after I requested that they sing in emo the last time around, they're probably glad I live out in Queens and had to head back. It was 0:03 when the train finally came and, well, we all know what happened next. Including my not getting the job.