Great. Now I Have To Write About This.

Two Man Advantage/The Scarred//Continental//6/13/06

I decided to pick up film in the city. On my way out, I could practically hear someone saying, in a sort of mocking way, When are you gonna go digital, already? C’mon! Well, soon enough. I read that film cameras are being phased out, Minolta laid people off, and they’re not making film any more. True, if I had a digital camera I wouldn’t always be buying film or have a year’s worth to get developed. I will go digital. Soon. I mean, eventually I’m not going to have a choice.

Since I stopped at Duane Reade for the film after getting off the 6 instead of going straight to the place, that’s probably how I ended up in direct line for this. I was almost to the corner of Third when I hear a voice behind me say my name.

I turn around.

“Remember me? Scudder Hall? New Paltz. . . .”

Uhm. . . .

She tells me her name and I barely remember her. I barely even remember New Paltz, but I have a diploma that says I went there, so it must be. Besides, that’s what I’ve been putting on my resumes.

“Who was your roommate again?”

I remind her which half of the floor I was on and she says, “Let’s get out of the street.”

All the while I’m thinking, Why the hell are you talking to me? It’s not like we’re going to be friends, exchange email addresses, and get together and talk about old times. Still, she recognized me after all these years? She tells me she’s in advertising and I tell her what I do and she introduces me to her boyfriend, and the boyfriend is standing there awkwardly, but then again, so am I. I fudge for not recognizing her: “Oh, you’re wearing your hair up. That’s it.” I almost ask her if she remembers Max and am about to tell her that he’s in a band, but I don’t because not only do I think they’d just missed each other, year-wise, and they would’ve traveled in different circles, I just don’t want to prolong the convo. And not because I thought I was running late.

“I remember all those hats you used to wear—”

“I still have them. They got kinda crushed, though.”

“They were really cool.”

See, it’s not that I don’t remember her. I’m practicing snubbing people for when I become famous. Still, I thought, Great. Now I have to write about this. But at least it’s something I can knock out quickly.

***

In all fairness to Two Man Advantage, who had their 28th rehearsal at the Continental as well as landing on the “All pictures were taken here” gallery, I wasn’t listening to much hardcore at the time when I found their CD @ Kim’s. Or maybe I found one of their early CDs when they were trying to figure out what they were doing as they went along. I was curious: they combine 2 of my favorite things: punk rock and bands that sing about hockey. I was all happy that I found the CD in a store that lets you sample as you go along, though I did think—which I do for every band whose CD I find used—Wow, somebody’s getting rid of this. Maybe they suck/started sucking/pissed somebody off. (Well, I never thought that about the copy of G.M.T. I found at Academy. Then again, maybe there’s the pissing someone off angle. Then again, I went back to buy it back so maybe they could resell it for more ${It was on the 99 cent shelf}, but it was gone.) I don’t know why I’m so judgmental about used CDs and not, say, used clothes, but I am. Anyway, I had the same reaction to the Two Man CD as Vin Scelsa had to the Ramones when he first heard them—What is this shit as he flung the record across the station. Or maybe it was Noel making them sound better than they really do, as the band pointed out.

So when I saw The Scarred’s poster for the show, I thought that they were a bit too obvious (even for me), but it’s The Continental and it’s $5, so why the hell not, right? I would’ve gone earlier to catch the other bands, but I’d had enough of all-niters at venues and seriously needed a break.

The Scarred struck me as the type of band that would be the first (or fighting to be the first) punk band to jump up on the soapbox and complain about how commercial punk rock has become and how they’re the true believers, etc etc. The ones who repeatedly and knowingly tap that ’77 vein, but when you point that out to them they get pissed and defensive. The bass player had a button-down, collared shirt with the Clash logo and an armband that said 1977. The guitar player, checking the mic, said, “Penis! . . . Vagina! Dick! Cunt!” (Or maybe it was just a Tourette’s check.) Also of note was the mandatory punk rock headgear—both scally cap and fedora.

The Scarred also struck me as the type of band that would end with a Clash cover.

They opened with Janie Jones.

Nothing like setting the bar too high, eh? Nothing like setting the bar impossibly high so you either look better for vaulting it on the first try or just miss it and we all go “Awww!” and feel bad, yet really appreciate your valiant efforts because you really, really twied. I laughed and then almost gagged, but that’s me. On their next song, which started with the mandatory “hey! hey! hey!s, the singer was laying on the Strummer/Armstrong accent pretty thick, aside from the fact that that’s a pretty strong accent to start with, and I’m like, There’s no way you talk like that in real life. If Rancid is the type of band that comes from the members being raised on the Clash, you’d think that if someone grew up listening to Rancid they’d at least have a good band. (You get my drift; I don’t know how old they are.) Any time they got a response from the punkers in the crowd, I wondered if it was sarcasm. It was an easy set for the camera-toting punk rock pussies (myself, I’m talking to you) and as the set progressed, I was thinking, Boy, this really clears the air about who is—I mean, was—and isn’t in a gimmicky punk band. The singer asked us how our penises are doing, and then asked one guy how his vagina was. (To paraphrase Devlin Mayhem: These guys did not give me a hard on for punk rock.) “Do we really suck that bad, or are you just being mean?” they asked at one point. “Or is New York just a tough nut to crack?” One guy pointed out that the Buzzcocks were also playing that night. “Yeah, but you’re here.” Fair enough. To try to further settle the score, they . . . did Complete Control. It’s like they had a psychic band discussion and realized, Wow, we must really be sucking so let’s bang out another Clash cover. A PUNK BAND CANNOT DO 2 CLASH SONGS IN 1 SET(UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU ARE THE CLASH.) Perhaps trying to get back at us, the singer dedicated a song to his penis because he likes it more than he likes us.

I guess they showed me, though: They ended not with a Clash cover, but a Cock Sparrer cover. Which was pretty good, but, obviously, it’s because they didn’t write it.

6 Subways, 6 Bands, 3 Handstamps, 2 Venues, 1 Night....

Fortunado/Rudie Crew/Spider Nick and the Maddogs/King Django//Tap Bar
Blackout Shoppers/The Freeze//The Continental
5/26/06

I was really lookin forward to the ska show because I really need a change of pace from all the punk rock. 'Course I was gonna end up at a punk rock show at the end of the night, but that's ok. Sometimes, you just need to hear/see something different. I do, at least.

I went upstairs to find something to read before doors at the Knit and as I was on the stairs, a woman greeted me as if she knew me. She asked me if I was there last Saturday. I was taken off guard and I was there recently, so yeah was the first thing that came to mind and out of my mouth. She asked me if I got the tix for The Fall and I told her she had me confused with someone else. To cover for that, she stamped my wrist with a 21+, even though she never asked for ID. I froze. Was that the crazy guard? She had a walkie-talkie on her waist and definitely looked like the other one. Oh well.

Of course when I bought the ticket for the Knit there were only 3 bands on the bill. CT's Fortunado are the ska version of the punk bands I needed the break from. They kinda seemed like hippies, their "I made absolutely no effort tonite" enembles of jeans/shorts and Ts aside. And having horns in your band and 6 members does not make you a ska band, or good. I stood there watching them muddle through, thinking that there should be an age minimum before a band plays a show, except for rare exceptions. Their music barely even sounded ska, and it's funny how some bands who don't have horns can play a song and have it be ska and Fortunado, who does have horns, can't. I wanted to sneak a glance at my watch, but I was afraid to at first. I got over that real quick, don't worry. Their 2nd song did sound a bit more like it, but maybe it was their collective effort to make it look like they made no effort that was their undoing. Of course the standing up because I'm polite and feel sorry for you thing backfired because they said, "I wanna hear all 13 of you on this one! Especially you!" and they pointed to me, so I had to do the whoa-oh-ohs even though I didn't feel like it. I didn't even feel like dancin'. I started worrying, because I thought it might be me. Then they started screaming on a couple and I'm like, either you're emo or you're ska, not both. Stuttering when announcing their last song, it came out as "This is our last show" instead of "This is our last song for the show."

So the first--and last--time I saw Rudie Crew was what started my grudge against the Knitting Factory. There was this crazy security guard harrassing me all nite because all of a sudden you're not allowed to take pix there for some reason. And because she stopped me once (and perhaps because I'm a girl and therefore {she thought} easily intimidated), I was a convenient target and every time someone else's flash went off she threatened to throw me out. Look, you're not allowed to take pix in certain parts of museums. I know that because it's clearly posted. And everyone else I told that story to could not believe it because whoever heard of not being able to take pix at the Knit, right? Thus began my grudgematch against the Knit and I guess my skipping shows there scared them and they were losing money over this because no one has bothered me there since. I mean, when everyone had their big cameras at Art Brut, it was more of a Wow, people who see this band can afford these $899 cameras. They're real photogs and here I am with my amateur film camera and wussy zoom sorta thing and not, Whatever happened to no photography at the Knit?, tho that did cross my mind as well.

Anyhoo, I've tried to suppress all memories of said show (a shame because Seanchai was on the bill as part of a Clash tribute) but I didn't think that that night was so bad that I didn't remember Rudie Crew, dedicating their set to Desmond Dekker, as being an 8-piece band. It worked, of course, their serious reggae grooves blasting the unfortunate Fortunado experience right out of the room.

I've been meaning to catch Spider Nick. They played a Lo-Fi ska show last year, with the requisite DJ stints between sets and I was imagining another fiasco, so I skipped it. I have a CD and I can't remember how I heard of them or where the CD came from, but that hardly matters. They're fun, nostalgic party-starters who started off with a Penguins cover and ended with a cover of C'est Plan Pour Moi, weaving in Anarchy in the UK and Rockaway Beach, and asked for a moment of noise instead of a moment of silence.

Unfortunately Fortunado sought me out during the set change and insisted on selling me a CD. How annoyingly unprofessional. If I wanted it that bad, I would've sought them out. I fixed them with my best get bent look, which must've come across as I'm a cheap Jew who supports bands and could be haggled into it. I mean, I have another show to get to and I need to get something to drink. They thanked me for being up front for them and of course have already written a song about me--HJ in the Dancehall is the track that closes the CD. All thru Django's set I was antsy. It was getting late and for some reason I thought that the Shoppers were going on at 10:15. 15, 45--they're both vertical numbers. An easy mistake. It was like I was immune to his laid-back reggae vibes, instead trying to figure out at what point in the set I would duck out. But you've seen the Shoppers before, I railed at myself. At least this is something different, for a change. And you had no idea when you bought the ticket and set it in stone for the Continental that there'd be a 4th band added.

But the whole point of the night was to go to both shows.

But you know that even if they're on at 10:15, they really won't start at 10:15, so why stand around now and get all worked up over this? You always do this to yourself and it always works out fine. So you miss the 1st 2 songs. Big deal, you've seen them before.

But around 9:45, Django started fretting the set time and skipped a lot of songs on the setlist. I shot out of there at 10 after and headed for the 6, wondering when the walk down (up?) Bway had gotten longer and realizing that taking the 1 to the L to the 6 would be the same as 1st walking around the Canal St. station to the 6. I put my earplugs in on the train. And as much as I needed a break, as much as I was trying to stay in, as much as I worried that maybe it was all over, I felt a little stab of excitement when I got out at Astor. Seeing that van with the big Freeze logo on the side, I couldn't help but think how good it felt to be back there. It even smelled the same. Of course I missed the 1st 2 bands, but got there just in time for the Shoppers on at 10:45.

I feel like I haven't seen Blackout Shoppers in ages, even tho it was only back in April that I last did. It's just that when they play those all-day punk shows, by the time they go on I've already been there for like 5 hours and all the bands do 20 min sets and it's just the same bands hitting the same notes (or lack thereof) and it all sounds the same. And with only 20 mins, you can't do much because it takes time to get acclimated to the set. Which might explain why I was so pleasantly surprised by the Blackout Shoppers' set @ the Continental. All these new songs! A typed set list! I remember they only used to have, like, 6 songs. That night they were all really tight, musically, as a band. I couldn't believe it; it kinda reminded me of that magical "The Spunk Lads is a real band" feeling I had when the Lads hit their stride. I felt like I was hearing/seeing them for the 1st time.

The Shoppers were up to their old tricks again that night--opening for an old-school punk band. The Freeze are a hardcore band from Boston, so that means the Street Dogs can totally break up. "We would've started by now, but we forgot the lyrics," they said by way of apology for the slight delay. It didn't take long before I was hitting the wall. I was hoping I could totally get a stair, but no such luck. There was a lot of lyric-forgetting--"It's ok if you don't know the lyrics, we don't, either," but that hardly mattered.

" 'Us undead fans....' " I saluted Justin downstairs, and he thanked me for sending comments on his comics.

"But you wrote that we should email you comments, so I did."

"But you actually did, and that's so awesome."

"Because you said to, so why wouldn't I?"

I want to tell him that his comic strip is like the illustrated version of stuff I write--and that I do write about music--and the image of the guy looking in the mirror and seeing the guitar with a face was the best. But I don't. The convo is turning out to be the kind that would make a WWIX comic, and I'm just worried that I'll end up being drawn with flies and planets around my head like the crazy woman who offered them coke.

And thank you, Blackout Shoppers, for leaving the flyer for me in the box by my office—and for the “database error,” preventing me from saving/posting this. No, wait, the latter is probably all Fortunado’s fault. (Actually, no, it’s a “hardware problem.”)