Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride

One Bit Music/Corn Mo/Captured! By Robots Gets Married//Northsix//5/6/06

It should be obvious by now that I'm not one of those gals who has these things all figured out already for when the time comes--I doubt there's anyone out there who thinks otherwise by now--but damn, that's the perfect wedding. J.Bot has become an ordained minister of the Universal Life church and will be marrying people during shows.

I haven't been to Northie in ages. Being good sucks. Walking down N6, all the little bistros have their doors open and tables spill out like yolk from eggs. I hear Nirvana blaring from one of them and I'd ponder how wrong that is, but I don't have the time. Parked across the street is Jay's trailer and he, Corn Mo, Mary Prankster and Jake are outside. They asked if I was going to the show. Thankfully I was, because that would've been pretty awkward if I wasn't. Jay decided to fit in in the nabe by putting on his yarkmule. "Oh, dude!" Mary said. "The propeller fell off." She spent the afternoon decorating for the wedding, but being N6 it kinda looked like a gymnasium decorated for a dance on a budget.

One Bit Music consists of a guy playing drums accompanied by a sampler. He had a digital sign on the floor in front of the drumkit that displayed 3 messages--his name, the band name, and the website--continually, but not a message that he's available for weddings and bar mitzvahs. His electronic noodling and doodling is the type of stuff that borders on whiteboy dance/party music. A vest made entirely of zippers sewn together and pink sunglasses were his nods to the lo-tech futuristic thing he does. At one point he held up a clear jewel case that has microchips in it and says that this is the CD that'll be out in stores soon. Huh? What?

I saw Corn Mo once before, but I can't remember when. We'll skip the obvious discussion about the name and just go right into it: There's something weird/annoying/cloying about a grown man whose theme song goes something like it's lollipop time again with the Corn Mo show. I know you're not supposed to take him (that) seriously, but maybe it's one of those instances of being a gimmick with a band (or performer) instead of the other way around, and it was hard to connect. Or take him seriously. He plays accordian and sometimes hits a cymbal on the floor with a drumstick duct-taped to his ankle and whenever he misses or doesn't hit it that hard, I gotta wonder if that's part of the act as well. The songs are kinda rock-ballad style, but there was one about a kid peeing on another one in elementary school. But what do I know, the whole place went crazy after each song. Sometimes I think I should be more sarcastic. Then I'd get it. But his final song was classic--a bar mitzvah number called Hava Nagila Monster. Classic. 'Course every time I hear Hava Nagila I'll think of Corn Mo, but oh well.

Tristan from One-Bit came up to me during the set change and I knew he was going to ask me for pix. He said the zipper vest is very hot and must be what wearing chain mail was like, so at least I know not to waste my time making one. And his CD coming out? You have to plug headphones into the actual case to hear the music, and there are play/ff/rew buttons on it. Huh. Either really kewl or a total gimmick. "I usually have a big speech about it, but I guess I didn't do it right." Uh, nope.

J.Bot was Rebbe Jay Botstein that night, performing in a tallis, yarmulke, and of course the being-captured-by-robots mask. (A rebbe from the Universal Life church???)He was right the last time around: We'll already know the lyrics to his set this time around. He started with White Wedding and covered the usual standards, though I don't know who plays Steve Perry at their wedding. Must be the goyim. On the other hand, it's a good thing I wasn't getting married at this thing because when it came time for wedding time, J.Bot made all the couples line up by the bleachers and then come up front. And there'd be no way I'd lose my spot even if I were getting married. It was like Atom's He Kissed Me, but instead of everyone coupling off and kissing at midnite on NYE, this time around everyone (else) coupled up and got married and then I had to watch couples, no matter how casual it might've been, gaze at each other loopily and I wanted to smack them. ("I give it a year!" said Drumbot.) After that, it was the reception and they did Celebration and Hot Hot Hot--"I better see a conga line or I'm going to fucking kill someone!" etc. There was cake, every time we circled past the bar I saw it. J.Bot told us to get some cake, but after being in a conga line all over N6 and then still getting my spot, no. They did I Can't Help Falling In Love With You for Brooklyn: "Usually wherever I go I'm the Jewiest person there, but tonite I'm only, like, a quarter Jewish."

I thought I'd be able to see LSC after if my show started at 9 as announced. Not only did it not, the F wasn't stopping at 14th, anyway. Too bad, because it said Proper Attire Required on the C!BR site. I didn't know if he meant the couples had to take it seriously and dress nice, the audience did, or the robots had to. But I did--it was the 1st time I was able to tie a tie properly. (Maybe because it was my Briefs tie, I knew that the logo had to land in a certain spot.)

Lookit Them, They Formed A Band

KFNY Invasion: The Chalets/Art Brut 47/Art Brut//Knitting Factory//5/18/06

It's funny that The Zambonis mistakenly posting their 5/19 gig as the local one worked out for everyone who planned on going in May, and for me what with Southpaw on the 17th and this on the 18th. I know I said that I'd see Art Brut again, but the tix were $16. A lot of money (for me) for a band like this that I've already seen, but my rationale was, if I don't go then where's the continuity. Ya know? Not only that, it was one of those 2-floor gigs with DJs and 6 bands, and I can't stand those. I bought the ticket 2 weeks before the show, and I was thinking that it served me right if it sold out while I was checking TW and procrastinating about going down there and if it did sell out beforehand, well, I didn't want to go anyway. It turned out that 3 bands abd 1 DJ were in the Main Space and more DJs and 1 band downstairs. And Art Brut going on at midnite. What the fuck was I thinking?

Sitting on the floor with my back to the stage in order to have some reading light, to my right was a chick dozing on and off. In front of her, the Siren Festival's target audience sat in a circle, playing with their digital cameras. Leaning against a column was a couple making out all nite. In front of me to my left sat a guy staring into space. How I knew the DJ played something good: a loud "Oh my God!" went up from the circle. Or maybe they just found out that someone liked them-liked them instead of just liked them. Although I'd already read everything I needed to in the Voice, it was either that or look at the targets in the Main Space.

I was thinking that The Chalets would be like all the other Britpop bands who get their names by putting "the" in front of random words and thinking that that works, like The Cribs or The Concretes. One of their 2 girls on keyboards (who looks like Winnie Cooper from the Wonder Years) was dressed in a Dorothy-from-the Wizard of Oz-style dress and red sequin pumps so I was expecting them to be schticky, but they weren't. They're also not technically Britpop because they're from Dublin and I'm standing there thru their indie pop thinking, You sure you're from Dublin? Winnie informs us that when they play in Ireland, girls throw their underwear at the guitar player. Uh, sure. Hold on a minute. Don't want you to feel too homesick.

The thing about Art Brut's "franchises" (that I know of) is this: They feel bad about taking such an awesome name and have fan bands all over the world reinterpreting Art Brut music. So I assumed Art Brut 47 was one of those. Kinda interesting, kinda unnecessary. There was a case onstage and on the topside is flourescent yellow duct tape bearing this cryptic message: Please deliver to Knitting Factory New York City USA. It was kinda interesting (to me at least) and kinda funny. Art Brut 47 is a trio and they greeted us with, "Hello, you lot!" Which doesn't sound nearly as fun or full of promise in American as it does in English. They explained that on the previous nite they did do all Art Brut songs and when Art Brut came onstage, they kind of stole their thunder. So they're doing original songs. The first one sounded familiar, though I couldn't place it. A few people were singing along. I felt lost. As the set wore on it becomes obvious that some giant joke is going on and I don't get it. Are they covering Arctic Donkeys songs? Is this the joke? I look around. A guy by the wall looks as bored as I feel. All the songs sound the same and there's nothing distinguishing one from the other. One of the guys in the band has a moustache and I'm thinking, what is this, We Are Scientists? (Now there's actually a band called We Are Wolves and I'm like, Ok, well now you're not even trying.) I'll have to wait to read about this in the Voice to find out, in Sounds of the City or something. I don't like this feeling. That's it. I am so out of it. I should just give up. The drummer takes a pic of the audience, which sets off a chorus of flashes from the audience. And everyone has these big digital Nikons with professional-looking attachments. After the set the DJ announces, "Art Brut 47! Also known as--" And I'm thinking, ok, here it comes. "--Art Brut 47!" He then tells us to go downstairs for another band during the set change, but I don't and I doubt anyone else did. Well, maybe the people in the back of the room. By this point I'm so out of it that when someone from Art Brut 47 picks up the case with the cryptic delivery slip on it, a piece of yellow tape on the front that says We Are S-- barely registers before the guy disappears with it. Well, that would explain the other piece of tape next to the delivery message that said W.A.S.

So was the LES crowd the one who gaped adoringly while the Bklyn crowd was the one who got it and showed the LES how it's done? Guess we'll never know, because this time around everyone went crazy and the Knit was way too small for all the surging/dancing/pushing of the soldout crowd. I almost wish that I didn't go to this one so I could just have the SP show as a sweet, magical memory about this band to take away because this way I could think that every show was like that. One drunk guy kept yelling, "Eddiiiiiiiiie! Edddieeeeeee!" and then shoved his way up front. After being pushed back, he charges up front again and stage dives. Eddie stage dived during Modern Art, ensuring more shoving, and the crowd had to pretty much pick him up by the belt loops and hoist him back onstage. "You saw my bum! I feel sorry for you!" he apologized, but the drunken fanboy didn't mind: "I touched your bum! Eddie! I touched your bum!" I had to move back and at the end of the set I had chest pains. They ended with saluting all the bands on the bill, chanting "Chalets! Top Of The Pops! We Are Scientists! Top Of The Pops!" Holy shit. And as soon as the lights went on, everyone started yelling at Drunken Fanboy.

I never get chest pains after crazy shows like that. Walking back to the train, I debate going to the hospital, but I don't. I hope the Uptown 1 is running because I don't have the strength/time to go to Chambers and wait there. And the crowd was just so much better at SP to the point that it was like seeing an entirely different band this time around. Besides, the doctors would probably just say Don't go to see Art Brut at the Siren Festival.

Done.

If It's Death Disco, It Must Be Wednesday

Dirty Magazine @ The Delancey, 5/3/06

Originally I was supposed to be going to Trash that nite. That was the plan, although by the time Wednesday rolled around, I wasn't looking forward to it. I've been on house arrest since doing my taxes and that hasn't helped my normally cheery disposition one bit. The band i wanted to see was on at 10, it was either $6-$8, I didn't know what was up with the L, I've seen the 11:00 band already and while they weren't my new favorite band, I'd want to stick around to see them to get my cover's worth, and to justify the excursion.

So that morning I checked my junk email, thinking: Rolex replicas, enlarge your manhood, sigh, Dirty Magazine, jeez but then I see Death Disco free show tonite. Huh. And then I think the usual when I get emails such as this: What band is this and whose mailing list am I on now? And why use a name that's so similar to that ^, Sexy Magazines? The email gave nothing away, so I had to go to their Myspace site. It's Dana's band. Stupid was a great band, another casualty of the times and the scene. Another band that put out 1 great CD and then imploded. And then they were Twitch Stutter, who I missed every time they had a free gig and whenever there was a paying gig it was too much $ for only 1 band on the bill that I wanted to see. Hey, I was going out that nite anyway, and 9 @ The Delancey is easier to than 10 @ Trash. Not to mention the free angle. But Dirty Magazine? They went from Stupid to Dirty Magazine? Again, why take a name that's so close to a shitty band's name? Maybe Sexy Magazines broke up. I did a search on them and it came up empty and I was all happy, but then searched The Sexy Magazines. They still exist. Dang it.

The man across from me on the train was dressed in Spandex racing gear, tools spread out on the seats on either side of him as he worked on his bike, changing the treads and inflating the tire. For some reason he had an audience while working, everyone else just staring at him and when he inflated the tire to the point that it popped as people were boarding at a stop, a woman jumped in her tracks and the biker looked at her like she was crazy. Dana hugged me hello and all. As I waited for them to start, I felt a little better. I'm going out. This is what normal people--er, me--do.

They were onstage and set to go when Dana stopped to make an announcement. "There's one important part to this that I forgot!" The latkes? She gets offstage and rummages through her bag. "This is my very first dildo!" Uhm. She holds it up proudly and pets it, weidling it like a toy sword all thru their first song. Now if you're going to break out a dildo onstage, there should be a reason for it. (Then again, never mind.) During a pause in the set, she proudly shows off the dildo again. I applaud. And Dana's off in standard fashion--jogging in place, screaming, flailing, falling to the ground, hiking up her tube top. During the next band break she threatens them to keep up before she starts talking about the dildo again. "God, Dana, stop talking about your dildo!" she says, which is supposed to mock her bandmates' response, but it's like she's reading my mind. Dildos and Dirty Magazine @ The Delancey.

Maybe I should've stayed in.