Pretty Rancid
Big D & the Kids Table/The Lordz/Rancid//BB Kings//8/26/06
The last time I saw Rancid, which was also the first time I saw Rancid, I walked out of the show (@ Roseland) thinking, Well, now I’ve seen Rancid. It was exactly what I expected, down to being sorta upfront and then getting squeezed in the crowd and tasting my lungs. Not to mention having bodies landing on my head, which is why I felt I never had to go before. It was either an A/A or a 16+ show, which may also be why that happened. So when I saw the Rancid listings, I figured I didn’t need to go. But it was $18—what it was the last time as well, Big D is funny fun fun, and the Lordz sound interesting. Besides, my bday’s in August. How could I not go?
Since the tix went on sale at noon on a Saturday, I figured that people were going to be camped out outside BBs all nite and if it’s sold out before I got there, well, I’ve already seen Rancid and I didn’t want to go anyway. (Even though I did.) When I went to check to see if there were still tix, I saw that the price was listed as $20. Uhm. Even though I wanted to be there at noon, I left at like 20 to 2 and if the tix for that day were already sold out, well, I didn’t know what I wanted to do since that’s the bill that has the most potential for awesomeness. It was one of those weirdly hot June days when the tix went on sale, when it’s either going to rain to burn off the heat—or just get even hotter as the afternoon progresses. I get there to find out that not only was there no air conditioning in the place that day, the tickets were $21. How is it that buying a ticket is more expensive at the box office? Thank God I had an extra dollar on me, but I’d planned on getting something to drink after, especially since I was dizzy after climbing those stairs. Inside, the air was completely dry and stagnant and unmoving. I got ticket #47, but then it occurred to me that the show is on a Saturday and people are probably going to be getting there at noon and the line would be around the block. Well, I’ve already seen Rancid.
I kinda like shows on rainy days—well, biggies like this—because I figure not many people would be lining up early. I seriously considered getting there at 3. Or leaving at 3. I got there late, like 5:30, and the barricades lined the curb all the way down to the end of the block. Where is everybody? Maybe they were letting people inside the lobby early, because of the weather? But I get closer to the place to find that I’m #7 on line. Doors are at 7, people, and this is Rancid. What the fuck is going on?
As soon as I get on line, it begins to drizzle. I didn’t have an umbrella because I don’t want to carry an extra bag to have security go through and hold up the line and I didn’t want to hold it because it might get lost and there’s another umbrella I lose and have to buy again. So I stand there in the rain. I also have a small box of tissues because I tried to buy a bunch of those purse packs but there weren’t any at the Duane Reade where I got the film. I was sneezing and wheezing the minute I got to the subway and my back hurt, so I figured to stand in the pussy section since I have problems of the respiratory nature right out the gate. The drizzle doesn’t last long, and then a woman and her punkass kids get on line behind me. One is wearing braces (as in, not suspenders). One has a pristine Sex Pistols patch sewn on his hoodie. Another woman drops kids off on line and takes pix of them on the line as she clutches sightseeing pamphlets and awkwardly tries to kiss the son good-bye. I was surprised how quickly the pussy section filled up. Nobody would even get near the stage. I was tempted to make a run for it, but I had a good spot where I was and when I was there for the Aquabats, there were no bouncers so I didn’t want to push it. Not to mention the scoliosis, backache, and wire in my shoulder. And, well, I’m a pussy. It was also funny to see how many people suddenly couldn’t read the signs at each table that said “$10 minimum per person per set.”
I was really surprised that Big D went on first, and not just because it was listed the other way. I saw them at the Continental last Memorial and while I liked, that stage/venue is too small for a 7-piece ska band, and a lead singer as hyperactive as David McWane. This guy was outta control and I appreciated them that much more on a larger stage. Ska for ska’s sake, maybe, but new song Noise Complaint was fucking rockin’. Or skankin’. Whatever. Their set was not long enough. Some tall, drunk guy pushed past me and I thought he was going to keep walking, but he put one hand on either side of me and before I could tell him he’s got me mistaken for his girlfriend and don’t fucking touch me, he slides in next to me. So the closeness of this total stranger was freaking me out and distracting me and I couldn’t concentrate on the show, plus he’s so tall and blocking all these short girls behind him and it’s sorta my fault because I let him in, since I was more concerned with him not standing right behind me with his arms around me in the boyfriend stance—as in staking his claim/possessing. Then he leans forward on his elbows for a couple’a seconds, and then goes over the wall, crashing headlong into the booth right in front of him, somersaulting as he landed feet-first. And that was the end of him.
The Lordz, of Brooklyn, used to be known as The Lordz Of Brooklyn—I don’t know why, but I was a little confused about that one. Their album, The Brooklyn Way, has a cover of Jim Carroll’s People Who Died. . . . Yeah, I get it, Tim Armstrong is a guest on the album, and Jim Carroll was a guest on Rancid’s Out Come The Wolves, circle of life, etc. etc, and The Lordz has Rancid’s seal of approval. But it’s a rather odd choice since Carroll wrote the song about specific people he knew, friends of his, who died. How could another band sing those words, and “They were all my friends/And they just died” if they don’t know the peeps in question? Then again, when we sing along to someone’s lyrics, we make them our own. How did they come up with a name like The Brooklyn Way for their album? Well, apparently, there’s more to Brooklyn than overpriced real estate, a failed electroclash scene, hipsters, outdoor bars, artistes, and Williamsburg. Brooklyn is a borough where they keep it real. How real do they keep it? One of the Lordz claimed they were the first on their block to breakdance and were always popping at United Skates of America. (Hell, I went there. I guess that makes me old-skool, too. Or just old.) They were also graffiti artists—nay, legends, according to their website—back in the day. Remember block parties? they asked? Old-skool, back-in-the-day block parties? Why, yes, I passed thru one on the way to a gig in Brooklyn. The thing is, if you pride yourself on being born and raised in Brooklyn and take that as a symbol of keeping it real, then by the very definition of keeping it real, which is the Brooklyn way, wouldn’t it be wrong to market yourselves as the house band of a Brooklyn house party? “Who here is a Mets fan?” Tepid response. “Who’s a Yankees fan?” Crowd went wild. “A true Brooklynite is a Mets fan.” And it’s a good thing I never moved up front, as ADM of The Lordz kept throwing himself onto the crowd. The other thing is, if you market yourself as the poster boys for keeping it real, (to say nothing of lead singer Kaves’ 40s-gangster getup complete with walking stick and the brass knuckles cursor on their site), there’s always the chance that someone out there is gonna think that it’s all talk and you better bring the noise. Though they did cover a RUN DMC song because RUN DMC was punk, they informed us, it was hard to hear the band’s turntablist and they kept begging for another mic all thru the set. So maybe I’m being too harsh. After all, I’m from Queens, so what do I know? Being a hater is probably not the Brooklyn way.
Of course they didn’t enforce the $10 minimum per set order, as there was no room to push through with orders and to take orders. The two movie screens where they show the BB calendar in between sets was playing B&W footage of a riot and there were all these cops in gas masks running around, chasing people, and I was totally riveted, trying to figure out where the hell this could’ve been taking place. My guess was the rallies in Chicago, and I didn’t even see Rancid come onstage till they started ripping thru Roots Radicals. Wolves is still my favorite album of theirs and to me it was so perfect that when Life Won’t Wait came out, I couldn’t listen to it, always thinking, But it’s not Wolves. That, and I was going thru a tough time, just out of school and trying to make that transition and I still remember that I bought Wolves at Rhino Records for $2.22 because Rhino had this frequent buyers club and every purchase over $15 earned you a stamp on your card and 5 got you a $15 credit, so the brand-spankin’ new CD was only $2.22, and that was my dorm #. So when the 2nd self-titled album came out in 2000 I assumed it just wasn’t going to be Wolves, and Rancid’s changed and how could they do this to me, blah blah, (I don’t know why I do this with some bands; you hate it when they do something totally new—like they abandoned you, their fan—but then again you’d hate it if they follow up with pretty much the same sound/songs. Maybe I just expect some bands to be totally perfect and can do no wrong and anything else in my mind is them letting me down. I have to get over this mindset, I know) but when Indestructible came out I was like, Well, they’re still Rancid and so I bought it and I’ve been meaning to give Life Won’t Wait another run-thru to see what happens. Or get a copy of the 2000 album. Funny thing was, their set was pretty Wolves-heavy, maybe because that’s where a lot of the blistering songs are, or they had a 4-nite stand and I just happened to pick Wolves nite, but then again when I saw them at Roseland they were touring behind Indestructible and from what I remember of that show, there were a lot of Wolves songs as well. I still don’t get “crowd surfing to Rancid”—this ain’t Bon Jovi—but I guess people are gonna do what they feel they hafta do. Also, it was pretty bizarre taking pix from that far back. I’m sure they’re all gonna come out all dark and grainy and the band would just be smudges you can barely make out, so I didn’t take many pix at all, but even though I had the zoom all the way out it was like there was nothing to do. I fully understood the term “point and shoot.” Because that’s pretty much all I was doing. There was nothing to really focus on, nothing to really look at.
There was a mob scene on the way out, and I wasn’t going to hold up the line to buy 2 pins and a sticker, so I’ll have to get them online. Then I decided to try to go to the bathroom, further inside the venue than the merch tables just inside the doors, but couldn’t make it against the tide of bodies. All of a sudden I heard people saying something about Venus. That looks like Venus. Venus, Venus, Venus. That’s weird. I actually knew a girl named Venus when I was in the 10th grade in Flushing. “Venus! Win that thing, baby!”
You mean the tennis player? That’s the one who always dresses funny and is on Undressed! on MSN, right?
“Hay!” the woman in front of me yells, waving her arm above her head and smacking me in the eye with her armpit bag.
Wow, I guess there was a reason all these bands kept asking who at the show was blue-collar and I was thinking, Rhetorical question. It’s not like Trump and Oprah are here. Of course we’re blue collar. And how is it that all these punx recognize Venus Williams? A tennis star and a celebrity.
The last time I saw Rancid, which was also the first time I saw Rancid, I walked out of the show (@ Roseland) thinking, Well, now I’ve seen Rancid. It was exactly what I expected, down to being sorta upfront and then getting squeezed in the crowd and tasting my lungs. Not to mention having bodies landing on my head, which is why I felt I never had to go before. It was either an A/A or a 16+ show, which may also be why that happened. So when I saw the Rancid listings, I figured I didn’t need to go. But it was $18—what it was the last time as well, Big D is funny fun fun, and the Lordz sound interesting. Besides, my bday’s in August. How could I not go?
Since the tix went on sale at noon on a Saturday, I figured that people were going to be camped out outside BBs all nite and if it’s sold out before I got there, well, I’ve already seen Rancid and I didn’t want to go anyway. (Even though I did.) When I went to check to see if there were still tix, I saw that the price was listed as $20. Uhm. Even though I wanted to be there at noon, I left at like 20 to 2 and if the tix for that day were already sold out, well, I didn’t know what I wanted to do since that’s the bill that has the most potential for awesomeness. It was one of those weirdly hot June days when the tix went on sale, when it’s either going to rain to burn off the heat—or just get even hotter as the afternoon progresses. I get there to find out that not only was there no air conditioning in the place that day, the tickets were $21. How is it that buying a ticket is more expensive at the box office? Thank God I had an extra dollar on me, but I’d planned on getting something to drink after, especially since I was dizzy after climbing those stairs. Inside, the air was completely dry and stagnant and unmoving. I got ticket #47, but then it occurred to me that the show is on a Saturday and people are probably going to be getting there at noon and the line would be around the block. Well, I’ve already seen Rancid.
I kinda like shows on rainy days—well, biggies like this—because I figure not many people would be lining up early. I seriously considered getting there at 3. Or leaving at 3. I got there late, like 5:30, and the barricades lined the curb all the way down to the end of the block. Where is everybody? Maybe they were letting people inside the lobby early, because of the weather? But I get closer to the place to find that I’m #7 on line. Doors are at 7, people, and this is Rancid. What the fuck is going on?
As soon as I get on line, it begins to drizzle. I didn’t have an umbrella because I don’t want to carry an extra bag to have security go through and hold up the line and I didn’t want to hold it because it might get lost and there’s another umbrella I lose and have to buy again. So I stand there in the rain. I also have a small box of tissues because I tried to buy a bunch of those purse packs but there weren’t any at the Duane Reade where I got the film. I was sneezing and wheezing the minute I got to the subway and my back hurt, so I figured to stand in the pussy section since I have problems of the respiratory nature right out the gate. The drizzle doesn’t last long, and then a woman and her punkass kids get on line behind me. One is wearing braces (as in, not suspenders). One has a pristine Sex Pistols patch sewn on his hoodie. Another woman drops kids off on line and takes pix of them on the line as she clutches sightseeing pamphlets and awkwardly tries to kiss the son good-bye. I was surprised how quickly the pussy section filled up. Nobody would even get near the stage. I was tempted to make a run for it, but I had a good spot where I was and when I was there for the Aquabats, there were no bouncers so I didn’t want to push it. Not to mention the scoliosis, backache, and wire in my shoulder. And, well, I’m a pussy. It was also funny to see how many people suddenly couldn’t read the signs at each table that said “$10 minimum per person per set.”
I was really surprised that Big D went on first, and not just because it was listed the other way. I saw them at the Continental last Memorial and while I liked, that stage/venue is too small for a 7-piece ska band, and a lead singer as hyperactive as David McWane. This guy was outta control and I appreciated them that much more on a larger stage. Ska for ska’s sake, maybe, but new song Noise Complaint was fucking rockin’. Or skankin’. Whatever. Their set was not long enough. Some tall, drunk guy pushed past me and I thought he was going to keep walking, but he put one hand on either side of me and before I could tell him he’s got me mistaken for his girlfriend and don’t fucking touch me, he slides in next to me. So the closeness of this total stranger was freaking me out and distracting me and I couldn’t concentrate on the show, plus he’s so tall and blocking all these short girls behind him and it’s sorta my fault because I let him in, since I was more concerned with him not standing right behind me with his arms around me in the boyfriend stance—as in staking his claim/possessing. Then he leans forward on his elbows for a couple’a seconds, and then goes over the wall, crashing headlong into the booth right in front of him, somersaulting as he landed feet-first. And that was the end of him.
The Lordz, of Brooklyn, used to be known as The Lordz Of Brooklyn—I don’t know why, but I was a little confused about that one. Their album, The Brooklyn Way, has a cover of Jim Carroll’s People Who Died. . . . Yeah, I get it, Tim Armstrong is a guest on the album, and Jim Carroll was a guest on Rancid’s Out Come The Wolves, circle of life, etc. etc, and The Lordz has Rancid’s seal of approval. But it’s a rather odd choice since Carroll wrote the song about specific people he knew, friends of his, who died. How could another band sing those words, and “They were all my friends/And they just died” if they don’t know the peeps in question? Then again, when we sing along to someone’s lyrics, we make them our own. How did they come up with a name like The Brooklyn Way for their album? Well, apparently, there’s more to Brooklyn than overpriced real estate, a failed electroclash scene, hipsters, outdoor bars, artistes, and Williamsburg. Brooklyn is a borough where they keep it real. How real do they keep it? One of the Lordz claimed they were the first on their block to breakdance and were always popping at United Skates of America. (Hell, I went there. I guess that makes me old-skool, too. Or just old.) They were also graffiti artists—nay, legends, according to their website—back in the day. Remember block parties? they asked? Old-skool, back-in-the-day block parties? Why, yes, I passed thru one on the way to a gig in Brooklyn. The thing is, if you pride yourself on being born and raised in Brooklyn and take that as a symbol of keeping it real, then by the very definition of keeping it real, which is the Brooklyn way, wouldn’t it be wrong to market yourselves as the house band of a Brooklyn house party? “Who here is a Mets fan?” Tepid response. “Who’s a Yankees fan?” Crowd went wild. “A true Brooklynite is a Mets fan.” And it’s a good thing I never moved up front, as ADM of The Lordz kept throwing himself onto the crowd. The other thing is, if you market yourself as the poster boys for keeping it real, (to say nothing of lead singer Kaves’ 40s-gangster getup complete with walking stick and the brass knuckles cursor on their site), there’s always the chance that someone out there is gonna think that it’s all talk and you better bring the noise. Though they did cover a RUN DMC song because RUN DMC was punk, they informed us, it was hard to hear the band’s turntablist and they kept begging for another mic all thru the set. So maybe I’m being too harsh. After all, I’m from Queens, so what do I know? Being a hater is probably not the Brooklyn way.
Of course they didn’t enforce the $10 minimum per set order, as there was no room to push through with orders and to take orders. The two movie screens where they show the BB calendar in between sets was playing B&W footage of a riot and there were all these cops in gas masks running around, chasing people, and I was totally riveted, trying to figure out where the hell this could’ve been taking place. My guess was the rallies in Chicago, and I didn’t even see Rancid come onstage till they started ripping thru Roots Radicals. Wolves is still my favorite album of theirs and to me it was so perfect that when Life Won’t Wait came out, I couldn’t listen to it, always thinking, But it’s not Wolves. That, and I was going thru a tough time, just out of school and trying to make that transition and I still remember that I bought Wolves at Rhino Records for $2.22 because Rhino had this frequent buyers club and every purchase over $15 earned you a stamp on your card and 5 got you a $15 credit, so the brand-spankin’ new CD was only $2.22, and that was my dorm #. So when the 2nd self-titled album came out in 2000 I assumed it just wasn’t going to be Wolves, and Rancid’s changed and how could they do this to me, blah blah, (I don’t know why I do this with some bands; you hate it when they do something totally new—like they abandoned you, their fan—but then again you’d hate it if they follow up with pretty much the same sound/songs. Maybe I just expect some bands to be totally perfect and can do no wrong and anything else in my mind is them letting me down. I have to get over this mindset, I know) but when Indestructible came out I was like, Well, they’re still Rancid and so I bought it and I’ve been meaning to give Life Won’t Wait another run-thru to see what happens. Or get a copy of the 2000 album. Funny thing was, their set was pretty Wolves-heavy, maybe because that’s where a lot of the blistering songs are, or they had a 4-nite stand and I just happened to pick Wolves nite, but then again when I saw them at Roseland they were touring behind Indestructible and from what I remember of that show, there were a lot of Wolves songs as well. I still don’t get “crowd surfing to Rancid”—this ain’t Bon Jovi—but I guess people are gonna do what they feel they hafta do. Also, it was pretty bizarre taking pix from that far back. I’m sure they’re all gonna come out all dark and grainy and the band would just be smudges you can barely make out, so I didn’t take many pix at all, but even though I had the zoom all the way out it was like there was nothing to do. I fully understood the term “point and shoot.” Because that’s pretty much all I was doing. There was nothing to really focus on, nothing to really look at.
There was a mob scene on the way out, and I wasn’t going to hold up the line to buy 2 pins and a sticker, so I’ll have to get them online. Then I decided to try to go to the bathroom, further inside the venue than the merch tables just inside the doors, but couldn’t make it against the tide of bodies. All of a sudden I heard people saying something about Venus. That looks like Venus. Venus, Venus, Venus. That’s weird. I actually knew a girl named Venus when I was in the 10th grade in Flushing. “Venus! Win that thing, baby!”
You mean the tennis player? That’s the one who always dresses funny and is on Undressed! on MSN, right?
“Hay!” the woman in front of me yells, waving her arm above her head and smacking me in the eye with her armpit bag.
Wow, I guess there was a reason all these bands kept asking who at the show was blue-collar and I was thinking, Rhetorical question. It’s not like Trump and Oprah are here. Of course we’re blue collar. And how is it that all these punx recognize Venus Williams? A tennis star and a celebrity.
posted by heather @ 2:26 AM
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