Folking The System

Brad Barr/Hammel On Trial/Dan Bern//Irving Plaza//9/16/06

I don’t remember the exact quote from the Atom & His Package documentary, but Atom was explaining his reasons for starting the solo band—he felt it would be easier to just do the solo thing because he was the one doing all the work in his “regular” band, so why not go solo (as Atom & His Package) and it’ll be the same thing, since he felt like a solo artist anyway.

That’s not the right line, but it makes sense—you’d think operating as a solo artist would be easier than operating within the context/confines (wow, confines—I just noticed I wrote that) of a band, but in a way it’s just as hard. Or probably harder. You have to be an entertainer as well as a performer. Or a performer as well as an entertainer. Whichever it is, I don’t know. It seems that you would have to work twice as hard.

I’ll admit it, I’m not into Bob Dylan at all. Yeah, and I dare to call myself a rock/music fan, but I guess it’s an age thing, because my friends who are in their 50s worship at the altar of Dylan and folk music and the Fillmore East and shit like that. Loudon Wainwright is another, and sometimes when I hear his songs, I’m thinking, You know, you really are a jerk. Then again, at least you can admit it. But he does have some beautiful songs that, to me, exemplify the genre, and what he’s all about. But we can all agree on Dan Bern. Funny.

I first saw Dan when he opened for Ani DiFranco, and I’m not sure exactly what you call his genre—singer/songwriter, anti-folk, folk, or what. I tend to think of anti-folk as Sidewalk Café, amateur nite, open-mic stuff. Moldy Peaches was classified as anti-folk. Part stand-up comedy, part confessional, part therapy.

Anyhoo, it’s strange about Dan. His lyrics blew me away that first time I heard him. Stand-up comedy, confessional, therapy. A guy and his guitar, with songs about how Marilyn Monroe should’ve married Henry Miller and not Arthur Miller and maybe she still would’ve died, but her life would’ve been better. How he’s got big balls, but sometimes he wishes they were as big as the swing of Tiger Woods. That there’s no missing link, aliens came and fucked the monkey. Given lyrics like that, he’s the last guy you’d expect to write a totally poignant song about the Oklahoma City bombing, completely rhyming, and it still gives me the chills. And he told us years ago that true revolutionaries never bomb buildings because it attracts too much attention. Or After The Parade, about a crippled vet at a parade and everyone’s giving him honors, but he wonders who’s going to push his chair after the parade. It came out on the EP he had out when he was at the HOWL festival, with Bush Must Be Defeated, and while that song was obvious and said it all, what was so lasting about After The Parade was not specifically an anti-Iraq War song. It could’ve been Vietnam, it could’ve been Gulf War I. Dan can weave God and Kurt Cobain into lyrics that reduce God to regular-schmo status and Kurt Cobain godlike.

I don’t know what went wrong, or when exactly it did, but something changed over the course of the years since I saw him open for Ani nearly 10 years ago. He became huge, sure, but his live shows were incredibly unpredictable. Maybe part of the charm, the thrill of the live show, but I’m the one paying for the tickets and have been for all that time. Double shows at the Bottom Line and Maxwell’s. A residency at the Fez, and that has a minimum purchase, as does Joe’s Pub. And then there’s the band. I’ve seen him solo—that’s how I started seeing him and I’ve seen him with just his guitar at the Bowery Ballroom and the Bottom Line. But he had a full band, the International Jewish Banking Conspiracy, and maybe that’s where things went wrong. He put out an album in 2001 and there was a big presale and it took months maybe even a year for it to come out and I think that’s how he financed the album. And there wasn’t a Tiger Woods on the Album, or Jerusalem. The Fifth Beatle. And he has a gazillion songs. His website, or maybe a fansite, at one point had a search engine and you could put in a phrase and the lyrics would come up and you’d know what he was talking about, since he’s so off-the-cuff sometimes. And sometimes you’d only hear a song once. Bootlegs abound.

Last time I saw him at the Bottom Line, he did not do one old song. Or maybe just one. Which is fine, I don’t want to hear the same shit show in and show out, but like I said, there’s no Tiger Woods, no Jerusalem, no Estelle. It was off the latest album of that time, Fleeting Days also with the band, and the songs were not up to par. And that was the album he was waiting to make and he knew he had it in him, talking like it was some great album? If they were of the same caliber of his earlier work, fine. And he could barely remember the lyrics to the new songs. Once there was a double bill at Maxwell’s and it was a weeknight and probably like $16 or $18, so we all thought, Well, by the later show he’ll be cooking w/grease so let’s not go to both, just the late show. Not so. He even commented on that, that if you came to the late show because you’d figure he’d be better, that’s not the case. Yeah, we should’ve figured that, considering which band we all met through, that by the late set the musician/band would be more tired/stressed/stoned/drunk/sloppy.

So the last few times he played locally, I skipped it. Once with Ani at Carnegie Hall, and while it was the only local appearance and I haven’t seen Ani in ages, it was like $35. He played a boat gig, and I wasn’t about to spend $35 to be stuck on a boat with him if he was going to be goofing off. It’s not that I’ve turned my back on Dan, not at all. I just knew that he’d come around again, and it would be less $, and I’d go to that one.

Another thing that was always weird about Dan Bern was that his opening acts sucked. I had to wonder if he was afraid that someone would upstage him. Most notable sucky opening act was a band led by some schmo in a blazer who seemed to be drunk out of his mind, hanging all over the mic stand, being all dramatic, and I was like, Stand the fuck up and sing like a normal person. The music was fine, I just couldn’t stand the singer. And it was a double bill @ Maxwell’s and I had a ticket to both shows and I had to be subjected to that crap twice in one night. So imagine my surprise when The National sold out the Merc and the Bowery Ballroom and shit. They tagged along on Clap Your Hands Say Yeah gigs, so I think they’re not-quite-bigtime or it was ride the thunder while it’s striking for them, because sooner or later (most likely sooner) their brand of mope rock ain’t going to be the flavor. Dope-with-guitar-and-glasses Mike Errico, who had a song/story about being at an Ani show, or playing an Ani show or something, which I just assumed the point of which was: A guy who likes Ani! How sensitive! My new fave singer/songwriter! I wanna fuck him! Morley, who proved my theory true that the less talented a woman is, the more naked she is onstage. But she was much better for the second set, so I guess the pot kicked in. This ghastly woman at Fez who was like a wannabe Lisa Loeb, I forgot her name, but she was godawful. Why couldn’t he ever have gotten Mary Prankster to open for him? That would’ve been a match made in heaven. They’re so alike, except she’s a girl.

When Brad Barr came onstage and sat down with his guitar and a tambourine duct-taped to his foot, I was like, whatever. That’s cute, but big deal. The song was pretty good, but nothing that special. He had a few gourds on him that he got at Union Square and after he gave me one, he announced that while it means that summer is over, he was drawn to their grotesque beauty, and he gave the rest out to the people up front. The first time I got a gourd at a show. And then things got weird from there. He had some instro songs and played weird shit he had on the floor, such as I think it was a tape recorder or something and he held it to his guitar, and this weird doll that he plugged in and it had a teeny light bulb for an eye. I’m not explaining it right, but it was pretty cool. He’s also in The Slip, and if The Slip is like that as well, I’d go see them.

I know Hammel On Trial just played a bunch of gigs at the Knit and I’ve heard the name around. So I was in luck for my curiosity would end—and holy crap, it did. Hammel is a guy and his guitar, and he is out of control. Maybe it was all the Red Bull, which he said is like crack. His stage banter is off-the-cuff, whatever shit pops into his mind comes out his mouth (something about having some guy blow him and he felt like a rockstar but the next day, he was like, That was the guy? He said when he opened for Ani in Tennessee {he’s on her Righteous Babe label} he said it was Toby Keith and the joke went over quite well), and I felt my mind exploding/expanding from seeing this guy. A song about his 1930s guitar and his most notable one, about Ann Coulter’s . . . uh . . . about her stinky snatch. (“There’s no douche that’ll fail ya/Unless you’re up against Ann’s genitalia.”) I was cracking the hell up and it was like, I can’t believe this guy is for real but he is and I can’t believe he’s saying this and getting away with it. It was like when I saw Dan Bern for the first time. The weird thing was that there was a batch of people behind me who did not laugh, didn’t even crack a smile. How could you not? If you didn’t have an expression of sheer delight and joy on your face from seeing this guy, there’s something wrong with you. Assassinations—why don’t they happen anymore? Assassins always have 3 names. Let’s give David Lee Roth and Ronnie James Dio an Uzi and we’ll see what happens. He also had some words of advice for fellow singer-songwriters: Just because there’s smoke doesn’t mean it’s good, just because there’s silence doesn’t mean it’s profound, and if they’re not singing about mounting Bush’s head on a stake, they’re ball-less.

Dan had a different band this time around, and I don’t know if he was calling them the IJBC or not. A smaller band, and he did a better mix of his work. The few new songs he did were off his new album, and while they weren’t special, they weren’t bad. Maybe Dan’s trying to grow up, doesn’t want to be known as the guy who claimed to be the messiah or who sings about his balls. Or since I’m just not really that into Dylan, I don’t get it. But as I was looking around, I noticed something weird. The crowd. All normal, stereotypical, average-looking . . . I wouldn’t say prepsters or college kids, but . . . well, boring people. Just stood there. As I was looking around, I thought about the Mischief Brew show and the crowd there and I thought about Defiance, Ohio and the crowd at that show, and as I looked around at the crowd at Dan’s show and I thought, This is what’s wrong with the Democratic Party. This is why John Kerry sucked. I don’t know. It was this weird vibe of, Well, I voted for Kerry and sure, Bush must be defeated, props to Dan for saying/singing that, and, yes, I recycle newspapers and soda cans, but, sigh, I did all I could. We’ll get ‘em next time. I don’t know. The crowd just bothered me. I was like, How did Dan’s crowd become this? Or maybe I just happened to be standing in the whack section.

Young Til We Die

Team Spider TV Xmas Party & Tribute to Zak//MNN Channel 57//12/20/06

I didn’t really know what to expect. I don’t live in Manhattan, don’t have cable, and still have dialup, so I’ve never seen an episode of Team Spider TV. I’m not sure if I can get them thru their video blog, but that’s how behind the times I am. In other words, I’m not familiar with Team Spider TV beyond knowing it exists. But I have good reasons for that.

So when I saw in the email that “all are invited to come out, sing, be merry, have a good ole time . . . bring an instrument, a memory, some grub, yourself, ‘whatEver!’ ” at 9pm, on air at 10:30, I figured our part was just hanging out and reminiscing and saying nice things for the camera beforehand and then the regular show would start at 10:30. I think the station gave Xris grief once because he had too many bikes in the studio at one time, so I figured it was a dinky-ass studio that would be packed and I’d leave if I had to so their friends could have room for their bikes and hanging out.

Waiting for the D kinda slowed me up, me thinking, Wow, the D goes Uptown, too, and when I got out at 58th and 8th I stood on the corner thinking, Ahead? Behind? Left? Right? A guy with a buzzcut, leather jacket, and big bullring in his nose walked by and went left and I figured he was going to the same place, so I followed him west and then found 59th St. Of course as I waited for the light to change so I could cross from 10th to 11th the M11 pulled up and a guy got on the bus who totally looked like Zak. Now bear in mind that it was dark and my vision ain’t that great and the bus stop was down a bit from the curb, but it was weird. I was expecting a slew and tangle of bikes outside the Manhattan Neighborhood Network building and even had my camera on me, but there weren’t any bikes.

There was a sign on the front door of the MNN bldg. with a picture of a blender with an assortment of stuff going into the top that said What Goes Into MNN? Anything You Want! and for a second I was like, Screw the blogging and photogging, HJ is going to be a VJ! Nah, it was really cool because it was like that moment when you’re young and first enter college and you think you really can change the world thru independent media and you can make a difference just by caring and what you do really does/will matter. And it was kinda weird because it was a little after 9:15 and I just walked in off the street. I didn’t think to email Xris and ask what floor the Team Spider studio was on and his email didn’t say, but I figured I’d find them on the directory in the lobby.

I couldn’t find a directory, but I heard a commotion coming from the far end of the floor, so I went off in that direction.

I could not believe it.

It was a big-ass studio, so I don’t know what they were complaining about with too many bikes in the studio, but I seem to recall the show finding a new studio, so that was probably it. Anyway, it was a huge studio—like an actual TV studio. For some reason I was thinking it was a dinky-ass studio maybe because they’re on public access or something or I was thinking of my AM radio DJ days. Or because Team Spider really take pride in doing things low budget. But it was big and had professional track lighting and mounted cameras and stuff. It was kinda like when I went to NBC to be in the audience for the Carson Daley show when the Mooney Suzuki was on only without the whole will-I-get-in-or-won’t-I-even-though-I-felt-guilty-for-faking-cramps-and-taking-off-work-and-sat-outside-for-fucking-pretty-much-all-day.

I was stoked to be there as it was, because Team Spider TV is such a huge part of what Team Spider and Xris—and Zak—is (and was) all about and what they do, aside from putting on shows in Tompkins Square and being bike advocates and getting arrested and stealthing (team spidering, as he calls it) into shows, and Xris videotaping everything. So nobody (as in fans) was there and nobody noticed me and I figured the tribute part was over and I missed it and I’d have to leave, but maybe Xris would let me hang out for a bit. I stood in the wings while the band set up, thinking that I’d do a show myself but I can’t. I mean, I can barely do this and I’m not going to waste a cameraperson’s time. The whole band was telling Zak stories and saying how they expected Zak to show up at any moment.

Then I noticed other people there—a guy in black, patches, and peircings who had a digital camera and took a few pix and another guy who had a huge, professional camera. I had mine and I figured I was going to take a few pix of the gathering, since I figured that was our part—to say nice things for the camera—and then we’d have to sit and be quiet and not interfere with Team Spider’s work. I wasn’t going to take pix while their cameras were rolling because I didn’t want to be that weird flash going off from behind the scenes.

Xris noticed me standing there as I was fading into the walls, and as he greeted me, he told me, “He had a full life and we’re going to celebrate. You’re going to sing with us.”

I wasn’t sure if this was a question, an order, or a request, but I was like, I am? as he walked back to the band and setting up for the show. There was a big storage bin in front of the drumkit and I was thinking that they should get it out of the way in order to make room for the moshpit. There was also a park bench off to the side and I’m not sure if that’s just a station prop that’s there all the time or Team Spider’s to make it look like Tompkins Square, but I thought that was pretty cool because it did give the setup an air of Tompkins Square. A chair sat empty save for a framed pic of Zak and partial dentures, because in the past Zak used to sing “All I want for Christmas is all my teeth.”

So I stood there stupidly, watching everyone be technical, watching cameras set up, took some pix, watching the band tune up and sound check, put on Santa hats, and rush around.

Then they were ready to roll and I put my camera away. On the other side from where I was standing, in addition to the guy with the patches and the guy with the big camera, were 2 other guys. The guy with the nose ring who inadvertently led me west wasn’t there. All the observers put on Santa hats except for the photographer, and they ran “onstage” with Team Spider. It took me less than a second to realize that my place was with the fans and the band and not with the observers/reporters. I saw 2 stocking hats I liked and grabbed ‘em both, wearing both at the same time. I noticed the Santa hat on the guy next to me still had the 99-cent tag from Bargain Hunter and mine actually had tinsel pom poms safety pinned on. Almost as punk rock as $am’s Santa jacket with the Chocking Victim patch, Critical Mass sticker, and I don’t know what the hell was in this plastic packet safety pinned to the front, but it included a syringe, pill bottle, and plastic sprig of berries and leaves.

The 4 of us sat there as Team Spider conducted the show and there was a huge flat-screen TV across from us playing the show right back and fortunately for me, a camerawoman was blocking it at all times or I probably would’ve freaked out. Oh God. At one point Xris referred to us as “elves.” I think we gave off a kind of telethon vibe. Y’know, for just pennies a day you could make a difference in these squatters’ lives. Would somebody please think of the children?! Xris pointed out that we all have a lot to learn from Zak. They sang Grandpa Got Run Over By A Reindeer, Santa! Santa! Santa!, one of Zak’s most recent--Xris said he got it along with the 4000 lyrics he received every week, Young Til I Die, then another Xmas song I never heard of, Rudolph, and then a punked-out version. The guy with the lip rings took off suddenly, but he went to the prop box on the sidelines, dug through it until he found the tambourine, and came back and sang with them. I just could not believe it. It was this totally amazing Zak moment.

They closed with Know That I Love You, and I saw a guy holding up fingers and calling time. It was only a half hour. That’s so sad. They put all this work into it and the show is only on for a half hour? Now what?

I wandered around the lobby for a bit, not sure what to do. Nobody said good-bye, but I guess that’s that. But they were only taking a break and the show was going back on. I’m so glad that I didn’t leave. I wasn’t sure what to do, because I was all bundled up in my coat and hat and had my bag on me, my camera under my coat. Totally fading back into the wall. One of the kids was on drums and they were jamming in general. Then Team Spider started up with Rudolph again and it was a little after 11 as it was and I was figuring to just go because I came, I paid my respects, celebrated the holiday, and I didn’t know how long this thing was going to go on, but then they started the punk version of Rudolph and there was no way I was going to miss that, so I threw down my coat, ran over to the prop box, and pulled out the Santa hat laying on top—ready to, as Zak once wrote, “jump on the lyric.”

And I was back in the band for the rest of the night.

The camerawoman was still blocking the TV so I missed the video clips they’d put together, but at one point Zak was singing This Band Was Made For You And Me. At one point they had the pic of Zak as the backdrop, but they switched to a blue background, with Xris telling them that he’ll “fill something in later.” I guess in the editing process, when he’ll be doing a lot of work on me, making me look way less retarded, splices a Leftover Crack shirt onto me, and gives me some blue hair. They took a call, did Santa! Santa! Santa! again, and did both versions of Rudolph.

See, I don’t know what the hell Xris was going for, because we ended up doing it many times, both versions. There was the group that I was in and the microphone on the other side where Ladybug stood with the other kids and Xris didn’t make it clear what we were supposed to do or not do or where to come in or not come in, or he did and I didn’t hear him. I think it was that we were all finishing at different times. Uhm, hello? Punk rock? Public access? $am grumbled about sweatshop labor and I said It’s Christmas, I Don’t Want To Fight Tonight because it’ll be Christmas and we’ll still be there singing this and fighting about it. I think we did it about 4 or 5 times. Then we tried to do Young Til I Die a few times, with me trying to sing the chorus but realizing that I’d really need to rock the mic in order to be heard. I forgot who it was, but somebody was playing the tambourine immediately behind me and then there was $am next to him, so on the second go-round I grabbed the mic and tried my best, but I couldn’t even hear myself over the band. This was probably for the best, but somebody said, “Okay, that time it sounded much worse.”

Er, sorry.

One of the guys (maybe he was a producer, I don’t know his title) held up his hands to signal time again and I didn’t know if it was the end of the show or they were just taking a break like the last time, but the band just jammed to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and I stood off to the side, not knowing if they were (yeah, I totally wrote “we were,” like it's my band or something) done and Xris stepped back as well, and I whispered that they should do Bush Bush Bush, because that’s such a Zak staple and maybe they could fit it in. It was like 10 to 12 and I assumed they were over and done at 12.

He said it was a good idea, but they didn't.

So I said, “At least it’s better than this.” Which isn’t to say that I found the band lacking, it’s just that, well, you get my point.

Typical. An hour and a half after (shyly) joining a band and already I’m telling band members what to do.

But the band jammed on and I figured they had a long 2 days and were eager to get home. Then again, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen is sort of appropriate. (I think, I don’t really know the lyrics, but it sounds like it would work.) I still couldn’t tell if they were done for the night or just taking a break, but it was midnight and the cameras were moved and the camerawomen left. Xris was talking to the reporter guy and I wanted to say good-bye and to thank him for letting me hang out and letting me sing with them and apologize for screwing anything up, except he was really engrossed in convo and I didn’t want to be rude, so I just took off.

So, yeah, you can move CBGB to Vegas—stage, stickers, graffiti, and all—and it’ll still be CBGB. Places like The Continental come and go. We lost a real punk rock institution in Zak—or maybe someone who should’ve been in an institution (ha ha--I mean, he did put up w/the rest of Team Spider). But still.

I probably screwed up the retelling of this one because I went there thinking I'd have to be on my best behavior and not be in their way as Team Spider went to work. And at least I can rest assured that my brief stint in Team Spider didn’t make Zak roll over in his grave on account of how he was cremated and all.

Gettin' Freaky Wit' The Tikis

Team Spider/Animale/Blackout Shoppers//Otto’s//9/14/06

One of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make was passing on Team Spider at CBGB. For the usual reasons—money, film, money for dinner out, and getting back late after going out late during the week, money, etc. One of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make was deciding to go to the show. I’m probably going to regret missing the show for the rest of my life. Aside from the fact that it’s Team Spider, it’s CBGB, The Code is breaking up before I can get the pix developed from the first time I saw them. I love it when I’m right. Mischief Brew is also on the bill, and I’m curious if my opinions would hold up a second time around. But money and the fact that I was going to see Team Spider for free a few days later—not to mention that I just saw them for free a few weeks ago won out in the end. And let’s face it, if I didn’t use any pix of Team Spider from their 9/11 gig last year for this post, it’s because I don’t have ‘em. Blackout Shoppers and Team Spider. One of the best pairings since the chocolate syrup met the Mr. Softee.

I stayed about 20 mins. extra at work to finish what I was almost done with and of course there was a half-hour wait for the train. Then at Jackson Heights they made it an express and I got home after 7, put my stuff down, fed the cat, peed, picked my umbrella back up, and went back out again. The Otto’s site said 12AM and mentioned a DJ as well (they also mentioned local acts, like from right around the corner), but the NYCPunk site said 8PM, as did the Shoppers’ site, so I figured 8 was right and had to get a slice of pizza in the city. ‘Course if it really did start at 12AM, I could’ve gotten some sleep beforehand. I put my earplugs in as I ate the pizza, which is never advisable because you can hear yourself chew. I got there a little after 8 and I was surprised how empty it was. Maybe TS have a lot of underage fans and Otto’s is 21+. Anyway, I got to sit around and be privy to the very important behind the scenes discussions—about amps and equipment--as everybody drummed their fingers on the tables. At first I thought I was going to be the only chick there for TS, but 3 others came.

Team Spider started off their set with Tompkins Square Park Love, dedicated to Ladybug, who was just released from her day in jail for riding her bike in the bike lane on Avenue C. Holy shit. They figured the cops were trying to bust her for possession, but when they didn’t find anything they threw her from the bike, she was scared shitless and fought back, and got arrested for assaulting a cop. Another reason I wanted to go to the CBGB show was because they were going to have a sax player and that would be interesting to see, but he was at the Otto’s show as well. They did a cool, older song called Soft Side, which they’d never done before, for Joey Ramone, and Lily’s Treat, which they forgot to do at CBGB. (Argh! How do you forget to do Lily’s Treat {about an Ave. A character—“Neighborhood got good and the good, well, it went away”} {yeah, normally I wouldn’t explain, but that’s the point I was trying to make that everybody should be in on the reference in case there are those who aren’t} @ CBGB?!)

(Fed up w/the fan up front always shouting lyrics practically into the lead singer's face, Xris threatens to punch Seth in the nose. Or they're comparing the best techniques for jerking off.) I was kinda hoping that Animale was going on last so’s I could leave after the Shoppers, no offense to Animale, but all the late-nighters were catching up. In fact, the night before that gig, I was at The Gallery and found the September issue of NY Waste, which has a big article from Blackout Matt that sets the record straight about Joey Methadone’s injuries. I didn’t mean to laugh at the poor guy’s misfortunes, but it was a riotous story that left me cracking up laughing on the train, and the story culminated with an uninsured Mr. Methadone posing as a doctor in order to skip out on the bill—something I thought only happened in movies or on TV, but if Joey did it then it must happen in real life and punk rockers do it as well. Then again, that’s probably where he got the idea. Needless to say, if he’s now a wanted criminal in addition to the injuries, a highly visible stint as a drummer isn’t advisable. The Shoppers ended with inviting everyone to sing Everything’s Gone Wrong with them if we know it, and I would’ve done it, but I’m afraid I’m going to get swept away in a giant huddle, so I won’t and they don’t need to worry that I would.

Yids, Vicious

Yidcore @ Mo Pitkin’s 12/12/06

(You might think that this post is a little late for Chanukah, but seeing as how Jesus was really Jewish it’s actually right on time.)

Oh my God, Yidcore and the Shemps.

Now, I know I told myself that I wasn’t getting involved, but I could not let a pairing like this go by without myself getting involved. So I had to contact WWIX and I sent them a link to Yidcore’s site and said, So get in touch with them, get on the bill, and break shit. Or at least go to the show.

Because even though I technically haven’t seen Yidcore yet and I have seen the Shemps, I know WWIX is on that comp w/the Shemps and the Blackout Shoppers were phasing in their new drummer at the time and besides, the gig was listed on that punk site so if anyone wanted to be on the bill, they can just get in touch with them on their own. Besides, it’s a Monday night gig in the Northsix basement and I don’t know how shows run there, because I’ve still never been there, Monday nights or not. Maybe they only have 2 bands because there’s a set time that shows have to end or something and there’s a limit to the number of band they have.

Still, I’m a pushy, busybody Jewess so I guess matchmaking is in my blood. All of this I explained to WWIX when I emailed them.

The next problem was when to pick up the ticket. Yes, technically I could’ve picked it up when I was in Williamsburg on the 9th, but they only sell tix at the venue on days they have shows, from 4pm-showtime. So when I was in Williamsburg on the 9th, I’ll be nowhere near N6 during box office hours. So of course I had to run to Williamsburg at the first available opportunity that I was free and they had a show. Because I wasn’t going to order an $8 ticket online.

Hard to believe that I haven’t been to N6 since C!BR in May, but ‘tis so. I turned down 6th and kept walking, thinking, Where the hell is this place again? The numbers are supposed to go down, right? Right.

So I tried to get a ticket and of course they don’t sell advance tix for the downstairs shows. Because running out to Northie to get a ticket after work is just as convenient for me as running down to the Merc to get a ticket after work. Well, you pass an American Apparel in both cases, so maybe it is.

On sites for either Yidcore or N6 or whichever, it turns out that the Shemps weren’t on the bill anymore. And there was a 12/12 show added in NYC. Huh. What to do, what to do. And this is probably going to be the most Jewish thing I’ve ever said, but the 12/12 show was $7.

The 12/12 show was sponsored by some website called Bangitout. They say that you have to be an idiot (or someone steeped in college finals) to miss the shows, so I think the site skews a little younger. And a little broader—they have an article in the music section on Seth Cohen’s iPod and—yet still narrower, they said the 12/12 show is for the “Bangitout readers who love Hashem and punk music, but dig staying within the Manhattan borders” and I’m like, “love Hash—” Oh, right, I know what that means. See, they just bust out these words and expressions that I just don’t use. I get it, you’re more Jewish than I am.

Or it’s for those who love punk rock and who’ve been going to way too many shows and might need a night off on Monday.

And then I realized that even though I’m coming off a 3-day show bender, I have to go to the N6 show because the Mo Pitkin’s show would just suck. Yes, I’d be incredibly exhausted at N6, yes it’s a Monday, yes, its $1 more, yes, there were 3 other bands and none of them were the Shemps, but N6 would be the better show. These are the executive decisions that we here at Hollow Sidewalks are prepared to make. Mo Pitkin’s is the wrong place to see Yidcore, or any punk band for that matter.

But Monday rolled around and I felt incredibly sick. I wasn’t doing any better on the 12th and as I walked over to Mo’s I felt like I was going to melt into the sidewalk. I got there to find the place a general mob scene with people eating in general, upstairs in use, and the Yidcore gig on the first floor. I spent the majority of the time sitting downstairs by the bathroom with my head in my hands, telling myself to just go home, telling myself that had I gone to N6 I would’ve gotten the show over with, and telling myself that Mo’s, on the Lower East Side, was, in a weird way, sorta appropriate for a Jewish band because downstairs by the bathroom are all these old photos that look like they’re from Bar Mitzvahs in the 70s. But it’s not an appropriate venue for a Jewish punk band.

Seth A. left Yidcore a love note directing the boichicks to Katz’s. Hey, it’s on the corner of Ludlow St., so he’d know. Blackout Matt was there, and someone greeted us with “Shalom Aleichem!”

At a punk gig.

Matt looked at me for an explanation and while I was going to respond with a nice hacking cough, “Peace out, dude” totally works.

So we were to be let in at 10 and the guy at the door said he was letting people in 3 at a time. He had 3 in and for some reason, those were the only 3 he was going to let in. The rest of us were left hanging. Standing around, looking at our watches, me almost passing out. Matt looks annoyed. They should’ve had a Jew doing the door. At least money would’ve been collected and hands would’ve been stamped while we waited.

The band gets onstage and starts playing. Cameras go off. Uhm. What about us? Matt again looks annoyed because it’s past 10:00 door time and while I was tempted to point out that this, basically, is what my life is like he saw how the doors were at 5pm for Reagan Youth that past Sunday. And that Blackout Shoppers played at 5 @ Passout.

And while I’m tempted to point out to the guy “doing the door” that its 10:10 and we’re outside and the band is not only onstage but playing music, I trust that he knows what he’s doing.

And someone else asks him when we’re going to be let in and aren’t we missing the show.

“Oh, they’re just soundchecking. We’re not open yet. You’re not missing anything.”

Yet all of a sudden it was open sesame time.

And what do you know, the first floor room is even smaller than upstairs. Yeah, this was not the place to see a punk band.

First I was thinking that this place would be whack for this band because there’s a 1-drink minimum, which there shouldn’t be at a punk show because there shouldn’t be seating at a punk show, not to mention that they can't tell us what to do. I try to anchor myself in the best spot for passing out and taking pix and try to avoid the waitress. Then I thought that maybe I should’ve tried to make N6. Maybe I could’ve had a good schvitz and gotten the cold out of my system.

Yicore came onstage with the guitar player in a Santa nightie and bass player rocking the latest in shtetl fashions. Though we all applauded and Bram said that was the only time during the night that we’d applaud, he was wrong. Of course wherever I moved to take pix I was blocking the people who were seated behind me and there were people sitting in front of me. The people sitting on the opposite side of the table nearest the band got up to jump around off to the side and of course the guy who did the door ran in tried to get them to contain themselves. Well, why did you have a punk show at a place like this, then?

Anyway, it totally made me happy (I just took out the “this shit,” even though I think my readers are smart enough to understand what I mean. Yeah, I know you are. Their shit totally made me happy. Well, what would convince you to see a band? A) Their shit totally made me happy or B) “This Australian Jewish punk band is in New York ready to blow you away with their absurd stage antics and incredible Jewish rock show”). I must say, it was quite bewildering for me to hear a singer announce that they were going to play some horas. (“Hey! Would yez play something Jewish already?!”) Bram tried to play the shofar but had a bit of performance anxiety and couldn’t get it going (then again, isn’t that what happened to Portnoy when he went to Israel?)—plus he probably had humus in it.

I wish I had this music around when I was younger and going to temple more. Our cantor rocked and had some pretty good arrangements and there were a few songs I really looked forward to, music-wise, but thinking back on it it’s probably because the arrangements could easily be punked up if played faster and get me all wound up. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if someone who knows musical arrangements would point out that the ones I like are actually very simplistic. There was one in particular that drove me crazy I loved it so much that my mom had to make sure the cantor did it during my Bat Mitzvah services.

Thankfully they didn’t hold fast to the “mandatory” minimum per set so I was able to get Rocket To Rechovoth and a T. I brought the CD to work and photocopied the cover (it copies the Ramones logo only w/Jewish stars and band members' names in Hebrew, and their motto is "Oy Vey Let's Eat") and hung it up on my wall, it makes me so happy.

See, hold fast to the Tree of Life not the 1-drink minimum.

Chai! Chai! Chai!

The Gonzo Gang

Gonzo Music Diaries, NYC
Screening 9/13/06//CB’s Gallery

One punk, one concert fanatic, one filmmaker, one goal—a music festival 9 days before the RNC.

I saw the card laying around on my way out of the Lounge and the George Tabb benefit. Wot’s this, then, free movie screening for a possibly cool movie? I’m there. And, of course, I hope they have one of these cards that isn’t folded. Wonder who the punk is. Doesn’t look familiar. Turns out the concert fanatic is none other than Concert Joe, who holds the Guinness Book of World Records for seeing the most concerts in one year. He calls me Upfront Heather. Sometimes he can be found outside venues passing out cards for his website. (He told me he listed Britney Spears and Johnny Rotten at CBGB for September 31 on his site and his phone was ringing off the hook with people looking for more info/tix.) His ex brother-in-law is the film’s director/producer Roy Szuper and Tony Petrozza is the lead singer for Status Quo No Show.

The political becomes personal and the three amigos have the idea of putting on a concert to protest the RNC and they decide to hold it in McCarren Park, since it’s not being used. The 1st Annual Williamsburg Music Festival laid the groundwork for the McCarren Park Concert Series and the film documents their dream, from scouting the location to scouting talent. As the documentary unfolds, we’re taken on a trip through New York City’s music scene circa 2004. But Gonzo Music Diaries, NYC isn’t just a film about music—it’s also about politics and history, and how it impacts music and the city, and how that, in turn, impacts music. Our teachers and tour guides are Joe (“You can’t compare Bush to Hitler because Hitler was a decorated war veteran and he won the election by popular vote”), Tony, who tells us how he got into punk rock while in the Army and what punk means to him and how it helped him through tough times in his life, (“Marriage isn’t an institution, CBGB is”), NYC characters David Peel and Yippies leader Dana Beal, Hilly Kristal, who considers selling CBGB because the rents have skyrocketed since they first opened and Television lived around the corner. Rent was like $70 or $80 a month and only one of them had to work, Punk magazine founder John Holmstrom, (though Trigger didn’t want to be in it), and subway performers (such as Shakerleg) galore provide a first-hand look at the diverse musical genres and dreamers that call NYC home.

The theaters are full of all these feel-good, spirit-of-independence and DIY-wins-in-the-end bullshit movies. They’re all the same—a group of underdogs tries to put on a concert to raise money and at the last minute huge crowds show up and the producers succeed in the end. This is not one of those movies. This is real life. Thinking globally and acting locally, the 3 Musketeers put an unutilized park to use with groups such as Develop—Don’t Destroy Brooklyn tabling, but the 1st Annual Williamsburg Music Festival was also the last annual Williamsburg music festival. Now Delsener and the McCarren Park Pool parties took the idea and got Brooklyn Lager to sponsor it. No, trying really hard and doing a lot of work didn’t change the world, and many of the performers who were supposed to be at the Bands Against Bush showcase at Siberia on Sept. 1 were arrested at the protest. History, good intentions, music, and feeling strongly about getting Bush out of the White House were not enough. Like Fahrenheit 9/11 but funny and with a better soundtrack, Gonzo Music Diaries, NYC asks the right questions—whether they be about the state of the union, the state of music, the state of NYC today, or the state of music in NYC—and asks them of the right people that by the time the concert scene arrived, you can’t help but wish that good intentions were enough. But Roy, Tony, and Joe tried, and that’s what does make you feel good in the end.

(Wow, you can tell I’m no J. Hoberman, but I tried. No, seriously, the movie is really good. I've just never written a movie review before, so forgive me.)

The Good-Bye Guys

Deathmask/Deck-Of-Jack/Your 33 Black Angels//Continental//9/12/06
I couldn’t believe it when I saw the schedule. I mean, at that time I knew about SMUT’s gig and Blackout Shoppers (and I assumed I was going to the latter), but I was stunned when I saw Deck-Of-Jack listed. And for free. I almost got teary. To me it was like . . . well, it doesn’t matter what, exactly, I thought. I’m melodramatic sometimes.
I was kinda worried about this whole House-on-at-8-thing because if I have to go out, I’ll have to miss the show. No biggie, really, because I always read the synopses online. It’s just that I never really watch TV and finally, here’s a show that I follow regularly. (And before you suggest that I get a VCR, yeah, I have one, but I don’t know how to work it. See what I mean?) Maybe it’ll work out better for bands I’m going to at 10. Before, it’s always been, “Gee, what bad TV I’ve missed,” and now, though there were a few predictable shows/cases/plots (and I even predicted one of his quips, so my sarcasm factor must be at an all-time high) it was a really weird one that night and I had to miss the last 10 mins or so. There was something weird on the tracks as I headed down the stairs. The G train. Holy shit, they do exist. Which I just missed, so I took the R local to 59th and express to 14th and then the 6. It would’ve been nice to go my usual route, but I didn’t want to push waiting for the 6 @ 51st. Predictably, the cover of the Voice is for the big features on the Continental and CBGB, which is good because now I don’t have to write about the Continental. Good because I have enough else to write/procrastinate about, and good because you won’t have to read it.
“As many of you may know, Continental (one of NYC’s best live rock venues) is calling it quits this week. Because live rock doesn’t pay the bills anymore, they’re getting rid of the stage, and replacing it with a pool table and some high-def televisions. Yes, the Continental will soon be a trendy bar (sigh).
In celebration of its great history, Continental is hosting a string of ‘goodbye’ gigs this week. They have put out the word to their favorite bands, and Deck-of-Jack has been so kindly asked to play tonight.”
Getting rid of the stage? Seriously? But Joey Ramone performed on that stage. Iggy Pop. D Gen. Blondie. Bob Dylan. Can’t they just leave the stage, still put in a pool table, and when they make back enough money, the stage will still be there. It can still look like a rock club, but be a bar. Then again, maybe it’ll be better to start fresh after they make their money as a regular bar and then they can build the stage anew and have new bands help it start over. Then again, they probably took down the stage at Brownies when it became Hi-Fi.
All bands got 15 mins., and they did on Tuesday as well. There were about 15 bands each on both days. When I 1st saw the sched w/o the set times, I thought maybe it was a shoutout to past performers. They didn’t ask me who I was there for, even though I told them. Said it didn’t matter. I guess Deck-of-Jack didn’t need their draw of 50 in order to get booked there again. (Yeah, I heard about that. If a band doesn’t have 50 people there for them, they get bounced from the bill or something like that. See, that’s why I never book shows. I don’t even know 50 people.) There was pretty much nobody there. I don’t get Deathmask using that name, because with a name like Deathmask I was expecting death metal, not torchy ballads sung by a wisp of a woman. A couple danced. One couple hugged and swayed to the music. One blond woman stood on the seat of her booth and danced. Jaysus, you’ll have the bar soon enough. Have some dignity.
By the time Deck-of-Jack hit their stride without Juice, their set was over. I remembered the change of battery and went to change it, tossing the old one toward my bag and actually getting it in. They closed with Rowdy Roddy Piper (no handmade kilts), and they tried to get us to echo them on the chorus, “My man! My man! Rowdy Roddy Piper!” and for the last call and repeat, I clambered up onstage even though I almost didn’t because I didn’t want to freak them out but this was it and there was no turning back and I jumped. I must’ve landed funny, because I—
Psyche, I didn’t twist my ankle. I landed fine, and in time for the last Rowdy Roddy Piper. But you probably thought that that’s what I was going to say, and I thank you for that.
A guy who was there because he was friends w/Your 33 Black Angels was freaking out about Deck-of-Jack and how mind-blowing they were. And that, to me, is a perfect Continental moment. One of the things that the Continental was all about—taking a chance on a free show, or a $5 show, and maybe seeing your next favorite band. Yeah, they had big legends in the past and from time to time until the end, but they always took a chance on bands—even though they had the wrong name, like Deathmask.
So since the guy was so impressed with Deck-of-Jack and the show was free and sets only 15 minutes, I stayed for Your 33 Black Angels, even though I think that’s a weird name. But I’ve seen it around, and maybe there’s a reason behind that moniker. If so, I didn’t get it. They were okay, kinda folksy, and maybe we were all riding that happy, one last chance to see our fave bands for free, last “regular show” vibe.

My Life On The S-List

Like all good music junkies, by the end of August I was starting to wonder about CMJ. The site had an announcement: To volunteer to be a photographer for CMJ, contact X @ CMJ to find out how to submit an online portfolio. You may just be shooting the next big thing. (Or something like that.)
I don’t have an online portfolio, but I’ve been meaning to set something up on Flickr anyway. Maybe now’s a good time to do it. But I read the Flickr warnings: don’t be the creepy person, what to do if your work ends up on someone else’s site, etc. How would I know if my pix are on someone else’s site unless I go there, and there are zillions of sites there. And never mind that anybody could download my pix w/o my knowledge, my sister’s got pix of the kid on there. That anybody could view/download. That’s creepy. Right there on Flickr was a link to pix of total strangers’ weddings. Besides the fact that a basic account, which is free, doesn’t allow you to customize the layout, its set up like stock image websites and you have to put tags on the photos to organize/classify them. (At least I think that’s how it works.) I can just imagine what other images would come up with tag searches. Spunk Lads, SMUT, No Place To Piss, Spunks, Bloody Dick. Handsome Dick. Haunted Pussy. You get my drift. I want the site to be like the band list on Pinstand, band logos listed alphabetically and a search engine for 1-stop band viewing. Easy.
Then I wondered if I’d need to have cards printed up. No big deal, I’ve been meaning to do that anyway. And printing copies of my best pix to put in an album to take around to gigs to show bands my photographic skeelz and give them my card and all that. The main reason I haven’t done the album of sample work is that it costs money to have the reprints done. Then I wondered if a volunteer photog still has to pay to get into the gigs, or do I get a press package/pass. And you know me, I’d by a zillion rolls of film/batteries/disposable cameras just to be sure, be hysterically nervous with apprehension about how they came out, and when I get the pix back I’ll mentally flagellate myself thoroughly for fucking up so badly, no matter how they came out. But they said “shoot the next big thing,” so it’s not like they’d have me shoot Rooney or the Decemberists (though I’d love to, but not in the photography sense), they’d probably have me take pix of whatever schmoes play Lit or Ace of Clubs or wherever so it’s not like I have to be a pro pro. And I wouldn’t even be able to write about landing the gig until after it’s over so’s I don’t jinx myself. Still, what do I have to lose, right? This would be a great way to get my foot in the door and add a big name to my “portfolio.” So I sent an email to the contact, telling them that I see shows a lot and am always taking pix, do I need an online portfolio, what do I do, I’ve been meaning to set one up but haven’t yet, and if you still need volunteers, I’m there. See, I wrote “if you still need volunteers.” Because CMJ is the end of October and there it was the end of August and besides, they probably had enough volunteers from last year working with them again and I couldn’t even assume they’d get back to little old me.
They did.
The next day, the contact for general volunteering for the festival said to send in about 10 JPEGS of my best work from live shows. My best work? I just take pictures. It’s not “work.” 10 pictures? I told them I see many bands, from big acts to local bands. What to do, what to do. I want them to know that I’m well rounded when it comes to music, yet here’s my chance to send CMJ pix and show them what I know, you know? Then again, I want them to know that I like bands that everyone’s heard of and actually give myself a chance. “From live shows?” I guess that means no moshers/crowd surfers—and not just for the obvious reasons, that that’s not exactly CMJ material—and the pic of the toilet at Siberia with a Spunk Lads/Blackout Shoppers flyer on the tank doesn’t count, even though it was from a live show. I knew 5 right off the bat. Then it was the inevitable decision process. How out there should I be? But I was able to come up with 10, which I sent out on the Friday of the Labor Day weekend.
No response.
Okay, maybe the girl took the whole week off for Labor Day. I contacted her again the following Monday. Did you get my email and did the pix open okay? Should I resend? Yes, I know I sound desperate, but we all know that about me already. Besides, it shows I’m still interested in being a volunteer, right?
No response.
So I emailed the original contact, the one for photography.
No response.
(“How low can a punk get?” they wondered in their Bad Brains review. 3 CMJ staffers went to the show, I think one of them was the one who asked me for the pix, and they reviewed the show by starting a chat room about it. What the fuck? Just say if you liked the show, didn’t like it, and why. You don’t have to start a chat room over it.)
Y’know, a simple “Thanks for your interest in CMJ, take a photography course and try again next year” would be the polite thing to say. “Buy a fucking flash attachment, and a filter.” I mean, I know I’m not really a photographer. I’m no Mick Rock, Bob Gruen, or Annie Leibovitz. Those pix on the walls at Manitoba’s? That’s photography. The fact that they just happen to be of musicians who became legends don’t hurt, either. Maybe I should’ve turned the pix to black and white; pix always look more profound that way. You know you suck if a band’s fan site wouldn’t even use your pix. But at least I got a thank you from them. See if I hand out cards promoting your site at the show.
I don’t know. I’m starting to get the feeling that somebody’s trying to tell me something and they’d have an easier time of it if I’d just listen. Before, when I was getting no response to ads looking for freelance music writers looking to beef up their portfolios by writing for free/credits/bylines, I was able to take my rejections and use it to fuel my fire. I wrote 2 books (yeah, I totally had quotes around “wrote 2 books” but I took ‘em off) and started this site. I almost get thrown out of the Knitting Factory for taking pix and hassled about getting film developed? Fuck you, I’m a photographer, since when is there no photography allowed at the Knit, and I go ahead and take way too many pix of every band I see. Because you can never have too many pix of all the bands I always see. (Actually, I could and do, so I’ve had to let up a bit.)
Then again, I don’t know why I’m so surprised. The popular kids don’t want me. What else is new? But you know that if I wanted to register to go to CMJ and buy a pass, they’d get back to me right away. Even up until the very last minute. I even considered regular volunteering, but I don’t want to be the person giving out press passes to others when CMJ wouldn’t take me in the 1st place. I’m not sloppy seconds. Of course, they could be doing me a favor. They could say, Go to Ace of Clubs/Lion’s Den/etc. and take pix of some stupidly named band when I’d rather go to see another band I like.
So which pix that cost me the opportunity to volunteer? Aside from the fact that I just have a basic camera, not a “fancypants rig,” here are the 10 I sent, 10 alternate choices—I can’t remember which is which because I was really nervous/excited/in a hurry to leave the office when I sent them—and some thoughts on what went wrong.
Guy in a skirt.

SNL hasn't been funny in years.

Has detachable penis.

Maybe they thought the photographer actually likes Juliette Lewis’s band when she really went for shits & giggles & out of curiosity.

Littering.

Peaches, the singer, yes; Peaches, the song, no. Photo too dark.

Robots and robot-human hybrids don't count as musicians; too Jewish.

CMJ stands for College Music Journal, not Canadian Music Journal, they don't like hockey; also too Jewish.

U2 already a popular Irish rock band, don't know what to make of another; photo gray because photog was in a tent at the East Durham festival not the issue, the fact that photog was in a tent at the festival in the first place is.

Hipster; photo too dark

All hip-hop artists must adhere to ghetto fabulous stereotypes; tin whistle doesn't count as bling bling.

Courtney Love a has-been

Nice banner, too bad those weirdos are blocking it; top of head chopped off not a cool effect but instead proves photog's incompetence; photo too dark.

1996 was so 10 years ago.

Feminists.

Garage bands stopped being cool in 2003-4; photo too grainy.

She loves rock & roll, everyone else loves Fallout Boy and Panic @! The Disco; using the backlight setting made her face too whited out.

Band lends too many songs to commercials and last album was crap; photo too dark.

Band names must be longer than !!!; photo too dark.

Juliette Lewis not really a musician.

So . . . We Meet Again

In my best Rocky impersonation, and I have no idea how that would sound because I suck at impersonations and accents: “I . . . uh . . . wanna do something crazy. I think I wanna write again.”

Actually, writing isn’t my problem. Posting is.

Yeah, I blame the browser and not being able to sign in or upload photos, and I have a lot of photos saved to my computer at work as it is and when I finish a post at home, I have to then get it to myself at work if it needs a photo, and then I procrastinate by checking email, looking at venue sites at work, generally avoiding the whole posting process. I don’t know what the hell I’m so afraid of.

And I was trying to save posts to a folder on my desktop and get them out of the trash—not necessarily that I wanted to delete them, but I wanted them off my desktop and I saw how many I had and I thought, Wow, I really wrote a lot.

Another reason I started this site, aside from the fact that I couldn’t land a music writing gig, was that the, uh, New York Nightlife stories presented in “mainstream” alternative papers such as the Village Voice are not the experiences that I—and probably many of my readers—do not have and probably do not care to have or even care to read about. I even considered putting bands/musicians in boldface to be sarcastic, but that’s just not me. I don’t know any boldface people. I just know people who just happen to be in bands.

So I’ve been stockpiling posts and will get them up slowly in order to get caught up and maybe make some progress until the next freakout/head-in-sand mode. I’ll also try to find posts that are independent of others and get those up so that I don’t seem that far behind.

Also, I was going to stick with my standard “I resolve not to have any resolutions” because at least that’s one that I can keep but this year I resolve to embrace my failures, because every failure means that at least I tried.

Damn, do I try.

But you know what? When I logged back onto this thing, it wasn't so scary. 'Course I had problems uploading pix, but what else is new.