The Killing Floor
Tommy Frenzy’s Hard Drive/Charm School/Heap/The Waldos/Sea Monster
@ The Continental//7/29/06
8+ hours is way too long to spend at any venue, including the Continental. So even though The Dance Party, on at 8, sounded like they could be cool I figured I could skip that and get there for Chesty Malone & the Slice ‘Em Ups and then spend the night. But I figured, what was the chance that The Dance Party would go on at 8? I’ve been there for their first bands before and they never start on time, what with this being Gigland and all. So I figured I was still doing pretty good by getting there at 9. The Dance Party was crossed off the whiteboard and I heard Ms. Blownapart shriek “1-2-3-4!” as I walked in and thought, Whaddaya know, I got there at their 1st song. Not. That was their last song that I walked in on. But before I could kick myself too hard, Blackout Matt regaled me with his tale of woe regarding their ill-fated Jersey gig, so I didn’t feel so bad.
The place was still pretty much empty when Tommy Frenzy went on and they said that if they could just get the bartenders to leave, they’d have the place to themselves. I guess if you’re onstage and trying to stare out the window at the front of the bar, you can’t see the smattering of people who were there. Definitely more right-on than the Shirts were, I still couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it’s going to be like when my bands get old and I go to the gig wearing orthopedic shoes and not brand-new purple Converse. They did do Your Love Is Like Nuclear Waste and even though they said they take requests and a girl yelled All For The Love Of Rock & Roll, they said they never do that one, nor do they ever say good night.
I’ve caught Charm School a couple’a times before on other bills, but I never felt I had to let my opinions be known about them because I have better things to do than shoot dead fish in a barrel. But when you’re shooting dead fish in a barrel you’ve got a solid chance of hitting something, and with my vision—hey, I’ll be hitting something. The thing with Charm School is that they probably sound good on paper, but live is another story entirely. I guess they’re trying to do girl-group rock sounds, what with their retro-font logo. Except their lead singer pretty much always has both hands on the mic stand at all times as she rocks out way too much, like she’s been practicing rock star moves in front of her mirror, shimmying behind the mic stand as if it were a stripper pole. She announced their Blondie cover, in case nobody that frequents the Continental knows who sang Sunday Girl. And everything wrong with Charm School can be summed up by this one cover. Whereas this song needs subtlety and should be light and seductive, this chick just hits you over the head with it and she’s way too obvious as she tries to turn it into a hard rock song. It made me long to hear the original. And she cannot sing, which is very apparent with this number. When she placed her hand on her hip, fingers splayed, I couldn’t help it—my palm hit my forehead and I shook my head. I think she saw me do that because she glared at me. I think. Shit. This is the problem with being up front, I guess. But that’s the Continental: Always giving bands a fair shot and a stage.
It would’ve been better to put Charm School on earlier in the night and have Tommy Frenzy, The Waldos, and then Sea Monster one after the other. And not just because Charm School is a big ole ^. It just would’ve flowed better and made more sense. (For those of you joining us late in the game, {Hi, WW9—that is, if you’re still there.} this is the universal signal for vortex of suck. What’s a vortex of suck, you ask. The crappy band that ruins an otherwise good bill. The signal for such a phenomenon started off as just a V, but it was quickly inverted, since said band is so bad that it doesn’t merit a V. The inversion was coined by one Bloody Dick of the Spunk Lads @ Siberia. I guess I shoulda figured out how to do that code link to jump to other parts of the post, like how they do it on Slate, and I coulda had like a footnote or a PS and it would’ve looked cooler or more professional. Next project.)
After their set I started getting hungry. St. Mark’s Pizza. It’s not there anymore, of course. Their pizzas were kinda oily, anyway. I’d have to wait ‘til after the show and go across the street. I was sitting down in the corner and pretty much wanted to sit thru all of Heap’s set because then my back started in with me. A guy noticed me sitting down and told me I had the right idea. He told me that he used to see the Heartbreakers all the time in the 80s and the last time he saw the Waldos was at the Continental in 1993. He never had the chance to make it back to their gigs until now. He asked me if I knew who was up next, so I said Heap and he asked me if they were friends of mine. I showed him the flier I took down. “Sea Monster? Yeah, they’ve been around a long time. I remember seeing them listed a lot in the early 90s.” We talked on and off during Heap’s set, my stomach a knot of bad back and hunger. I don’t know why he started talking to me, since people—guys especially—usually don’t, so I had to wonder if he was me. He’s only 5 years older than me. Or so he said. Yeah, spending the night probably wasn’t such a good idea. Another project of mine should be linking to previous posts because I’ve seen Heap before. And mp3s. And then I would have even less to write. Excellent.
“This city’s changed so much. Every time I come here I am blown away,” said a man standing to my left. Apparently the two Japanese band members, the guitar player and bassist, are from some punk band that’s . . . big in Japan. “I thought he was kidding when he got onstage,” said the guy I was talking to, but someone in Heap explained it all since he struck up a convo with them since he’s so out of the local music loop. The Waldos’ set was a rousing sendoff and tribute for the Continental and I thought that it would be impossible to be sad. Well, it would be impossible to be sad, but they closed with Junkie Business, which Lurie dedicated to all his friends, dead and alive—“Though most of my friends are dead now.” And he said they’d see us in 2 weeks. Shit, I bet I know when that is.
“2 weeks from now?” the Heartbreaker asked.
“Yeah, probably since the Continental isn’t going to have live music anymore, that’s why there are all these gigs.”
“They’re not going have live music anymore? You’re kidding! When?”
I felt bad for being the bearer of sad news, but then again I showed him the flier. What the hell did he think it meant when it said This will be the last time. across the top?
I was so totally engrossed in Sea Monster that I didn’t even realize a drumstick was flying at me until it hit my feet. (And, thankfully, it hit my feet.) I can see why they made the “All photos were taken here” wall—an unassuming, straight-up, no frills, rock band. Well, they had a rubber chicken sing on one. Their song The Killing Floor, about their constant gigging and playing CB and the Continental and just trying to make it, was arresting. Someone had a T-shirt that read 20 Years On The Killing Floor and their bio on Interpunk sez they formed in 1986 and their live shows continue to this day in NY venues like CBGB and the Continental. But forming in 1986, being in the East Village scene, and still together? Wow. They ended at like 3:15 and I should’ve left, but I had to stay ‘til the end. Afterward, Ray’s was like an Abercrombie catalogue shoot afterparty. As it should be. After all, the city is for the young. Right? I got in at like 4:30 in the morning. I haven’t gotten in that late in ages.
@ The Continental//7/29/06
8+ hours is way too long to spend at any venue, including the Continental. So even though The Dance Party, on at 8, sounded like they could be cool I figured I could skip that and get there for Chesty Malone & the Slice ‘Em Ups and then spend the night. But I figured, what was the chance that The Dance Party would go on at 8? I’ve been there for their first bands before and they never start on time, what with this being Gigland and all. So I figured I was still doing pretty good by getting there at 9. The Dance Party was crossed off the whiteboard and I heard Ms. Blownapart shriek “1-2-3-4!” as I walked in and thought, Whaddaya know, I got there at their 1st song. Not. That was their last song that I walked in on. But before I could kick myself too hard, Blackout Matt regaled me with his tale of woe regarding their ill-fated Jersey gig, so I didn’t feel so bad.
The place was still pretty much empty when Tommy Frenzy went on and they said that if they could just get the bartenders to leave, they’d have the place to themselves. I guess if you’re onstage and trying to stare out the window at the front of the bar, you can’t see the smattering of people who were there. Definitely more right-on than the Shirts were, I still couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it’s going to be like when my bands get old and I go to the gig wearing orthopedic shoes and not brand-new purple Converse. They did do Your Love Is Like Nuclear Waste and even though they said they take requests and a girl yelled All For The Love Of Rock & Roll, they said they never do that one, nor do they ever say good night.
I’ve caught Charm School a couple’a times before on other bills, but I never felt I had to let my opinions be known about them because I have better things to do than shoot dead fish in a barrel. But when you’re shooting dead fish in a barrel you’ve got a solid chance of hitting something, and with my vision—hey, I’ll be hitting something. The thing with Charm School is that they probably sound good on paper, but live is another story entirely. I guess they’re trying to do girl-group rock sounds, what with their retro-font logo. Except their lead singer pretty much always has both hands on the mic stand at all times as she rocks out way too much, like she’s been practicing rock star moves in front of her mirror, shimmying behind the mic stand as if it were a stripper pole. She announced their Blondie cover, in case nobody that frequents the Continental knows who sang Sunday Girl. And everything wrong with Charm School can be summed up by this one cover. Whereas this song needs subtlety and should be light and seductive, this chick just hits you over the head with it and she’s way too obvious as she tries to turn it into a hard rock song. It made me long to hear the original. And she cannot sing, which is very apparent with this number. When she placed her hand on her hip, fingers splayed, I couldn’t help it—my palm hit my forehead and I shook my head. I think she saw me do that because she glared at me. I think. Shit. This is the problem with being up front, I guess. But that’s the Continental: Always giving bands a fair shot and a stage.
It would’ve been better to put Charm School on earlier in the night and have Tommy Frenzy, The Waldos, and then Sea Monster one after the other. And not just because Charm School is a big ole ^. It just would’ve flowed better and made more sense. (For those of you joining us late in the game, {Hi, WW9—that is, if you’re still there.} this is the universal signal for vortex of suck. What’s a vortex of suck, you ask. The crappy band that ruins an otherwise good bill. The signal for such a phenomenon started off as just a V, but it was quickly inverted, since said band is so bad that it doesn’t merit a V. The inversion was coined by one Bloody Dick of the Spunk Lads @ Siberia. I guess I shoulda figured out how to do that code link to jump to other parts of the post, like how they do it on Slate, and I coulda had like a footnote or a PS and it would’ve looked cooler or more professional. Next project.)
After their set I started getting hungry. St. Mark’s Pizza. It’s not there anymore, of course. Their pizzas were kinda oily, anyway. I’d have to wait ‘til after the show and go across the street. I was sitting down in the corner and pretty much wanted to sit thru all of Heap’s set because then my back started in with me. A guy noticed me sitting down and told me I had the right idea. He told me that he used to see the Heartbreakers all the time in the 80s and the last time he saw the Waldos was at the Continental in 1993. He never had the chance to make it back to their gigs until now. He asked me if I knew who was up next, so I said Heap and he asked me if they were friends of mine. I showed him the flier I took down. “Sea Monster? Yeah, they’ve been around a long time. I remember seeing them listed a lot in the early 90s.” We talked on and off during Heap’s set, my stomach a knot of bad back and hunger. I don’t know why he started talking to me, since people—guys especially—usually don’t, so I had to wonder if he was me. He’s only 5 years older than me. Or so he said. Yeah, spending the night probably wasn’t such a good idea. Another project of mine should be linking to previous posts because I’ve seen Heap before. And mp3s. And then I would have even less to write. Excellent.
“This city’s changed so much. Every time I come here I am blown away,” said a man standing to my left. Apparently the two Japanese band members, the guitar player and bassist, are from some punk band that’s . . . big in Japan. “I thought he was kidding when he got onstage,” said the guy I was talking to, but someone in Heap explained it all since he struck up a convo with them since he’s so out of the local music loop. The Waldos’ set was a rousing sendoff and tribute for the Continental and I thought that it would be impossible to be sad. Well, it would be impossible to be sad, but they closed with Junkie Business, which Lurie dedicated to all his friends, dead and alive—“Though most of my friends are dead now.” And he said they’d see us in 2 weeks. Shit, I bet I know when that is.
“2 weeks from now?” the Heartbreaker asked.
“Yeah, probably since the Continental isn’t going to have live music anymore, that’s why there are all these gigs.”
“They’re not going have live music anymore? You’re kidding! When?”
I felt bad for being the bearer of sad news, but then again I showed him the flier. What the hell did he think it meant when it said This will be the last time. across the top?
I was so totally engrossed in Sea Monster that I didn’t even realize a drumstick was flying at me until it hit my feet. (And, thankfully, it hit my feet.) I can see why they made the “All photos were taken here” wall—an unassuming, straight-up, no frills, rock band. Well, they had a rubber chicken sing on one. Their song The Killing Floor, about their constant gigging and playing CB and the Continental and just trying to make it, was arresting. Someone had a T-shirt that read 20 Years On The Killing Floor and their bio on Interpunk sez they formed in 1986 and their live shows continue to this day in NY venues like CBGB and the Continental. But forming in 1986, being in the East Village scene, and still together? Wow. They ended at like 3:15 and I should’ve left, but I had to stay ‘til the end. Afterward, Ray’s was like an Abercrombie catalogue shoot afterparty. As it should be. After all, the city is for the young. Right? I got in at like 4:30 in the morning. I haven’t gotten in that late in ages.
posted by heather @ 10:45 PM
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