Tuddd's Muddd

Cheap Time et al at Ash's Place, November 20th, 2008

   

    Cheap Time are pretty swell (their self-titled debut made #20 on my most recent Best Albums of 2008 list) and when I realized that due to prior commitments (Brian Wilson Friday, Baroness Saturday) I wouldn't be able to catch any of their other area shows this weekend, my interest was piqued.  And with this show being just a few blocks from my humble abode, I couldn't think of any reason not to head out to this. 

    Loaded up the one-hitter, bundled up (it's frickin' cold out, son) and headed out towards Wythe, where Ash's Place is located.  As I had suspected, it's a smallish loft-type space, kind of reminiscent of a much tinier old-school Glasslands.  Apparently it's a Todd P venue, and he was in the house regulatin' as usual.  Admission was six bucks, and it was comforting to see so much of the crowd of 60 or so smoking weed.  Good times.

    I'm gonna try to get through this quickly, so here's the rundown of the openers.

• White Diamonds -- I walked in halfway through their set.  Noisy, but not really unpleasantly so.  Processed vocals, sound effects, distorted bass/keyboards.  The band's two vocalists were crouched down on the stage manipulating pedals and whatnot for the duration of the set.  Very amateurish, sure, but they seemed like they were having fun.


• Jacques Detergent -- Four piece, although the guitar was totally inaudible.  Kinda quirky garage pop/punk led by a superloud bass and oddball synth.  Distorted vocals.  More song-oriented than White Diamonds.  Had some legit ass-shakers in their repertoire, which was nice.

• The Beets -- Probably one of the worst bands I've ever seen, but how can you not root for a trio of drunk, possibly retarded twelve year olds.  Seriously, my left tit probably outweighed the whole fucking band.  The music was horrible, just generic garagey crap with the tone-deaf/grating/whiny vocals you've all come to know and hate from countless crappy NYC opening acts.  More of the same, and in heaping portions.  These guys would have gotten tiresome really quickly if they hadn't constantly sabotaged themselves with equipment malfunctions, broken guitar strings and straps, all the while inexplicably abandoning songs while in progress.  It's so rare that hipster crowds show any emotion at all, let alone joyously reveling in schadenfreude, but there were sarcastic catcalls of "you guys are awesome!" and flat-out uproarious laughter throughout the crowd.  I can't remember the last time that I've seen so many blank stares changed over to "what the fuck is this shit?!" rubbernecking within the course of just a few songs.  I'll definitely be seeing these guys again just so I can confirm that they are, in fact, this hilariously terrible.  Kudos boys!

    Cheap Time was up next.  I last caught them opening for fellow Nashviller Jay Reatard at Bowery in April, and although they're far from "polished" or "slick" it was nice to hear a group that could actually play their own songs -- and play them well at that -- after the evening's previous bands.  For those unfamiliar with Cheap Time's sound, they're similar to the esteemed Mr. Reatard, meaning lo-fi, garagey and fast, but with a more street-hardened '70s NYC punk vibe.  They roared through their set with demented fervor, rocking so hard that at one point a mini mosh pit opened up briefly.  Fuckin' cool.  The set drew heavily on songs from their eponymous debut, including thrifty barn-burners like "Glitter and Gold," "Zig Zag," "People Talk," "Trip to the Zoo" and "Back to School."  Fun, fun shit.

    Alas, my two herniated discs were fucking killing me by this point so I stumbled back out into the cold and headed towards home, missing headliner caUSE co-MOTION's set.  I've already seen these guys a few times this year, with accounts here and here if you're really wondering what they sound like.

    So if you're not busy, check out Cheap Time at Less Artists More Condos (132 W. 3rd St., NYC) tonight (Friday) or at Asterisk* Art Space (258 Johnson Ave., Brooklyn NY) tomorrow (Saturday).  Fun shall be had. 

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Okay, I'm working on a bunch of year-end lists, including a Top 100 Songs of 2008 list, a list with all the albums I've heard in '08, another list with all the shows I saw in '08, and, as usual, a top 10 list of the biggest assholes I encountered at shows this year.  I'm going to try to keep updating regularly also, so until tomorrow, Tuddd out. 

Blood on the Wall with Lights and Abigail Warchild at Mercury Lounge, May 17, 2008

    As detailed in this post from earlier in the week, I recently had a bunch of clothing randomly stolen.  Among the shirts taken was a nifty bright green Blood on the Wall shirt which I scored at this show back in February.  I really liked that fucking shirt because it seemed to clash with pretty much everything I could wear it with, so oddly enough replacing that shirt figured heavily in to my decision to go to tonight's Blood on the Wall show.  Normally this would be a no-brainer, but alas just a scant ten or so blocks away from my apartment Torche was playing with The Sword at Yuppie Northsix, so tonight I had options.  I haven't seen Torche live in almost exactly two years when they opened for Mogwai at Webster Hall, and their new record, Meanderthal is fucking fantastic.  Dilemma, dilemma, and either show would have probably been great, but ultimately Blood on the Wall won out because it was a cheaper ticket.

    Before the show, 'twas a beautiful day, so I wandered around for awhile before meeting up with Sluggo (aka Loud and Fat) at my new apartment, eventually smoking some weed and crossing the bridge into downtown Manhattan.  I've been cutting back on the doobage lately and so after a couple one-hits I was pretty blazed.  Eventually Sluggo departed, but not before adding to his newly minted panda project.  I wandered around aimlessly for awhile, walking briefly through the Ukranian festival dealie on 7th street before heading down towards Mercury Lounge.

     Sadly, Blood on the Wall didn't have any shirts similar to the one I wanted to replace so instead I snagged a blue one.  I clumsily tried to make small talk with BOTW's Brad and Courtney Shanks before realizing how absurdly stoned I still was, so I fired up phone Tetris and waited for the first band to come on.

    Nineish, Abigail Warchild took the stage, and I really got into their set.  They have a dense sound anchored around manic guitar and an extremely foreboding organ tone, with plenty of melody elbowing its way through the thickness.  The vocalist seemed to enjoy baiting the crowd slightly, which was cool, and his singing style ran the gamut from more traditional indie nasalisms to ear-piercing screams.  I enjoyed these guys' set and gladly snagged a copy of their album, which they were giving away for free.  Cool shit.

    Up next was Lights, and goddamn it if I haven't had a tough time trying to find someone that fits as a comparison to these guys, so I'm not going to bother.  They're a three-piece, with blonde chicks on guitar and drums, respectively, and splitting harmonized vocals, and with an older-looking dude sitting in a chair and pounding out some great bass melodies.  They had a very chill sound, at times almost folky, and I dug 'em.

    Third on the bill was Cause Co-Motion who I had first seen at the BOTW show in February at Music Hall of Williamsburg.  Looking over that review, I think I pretty much nailed these guys the first time around: they're goofy, fun, fast and the drummer's bass drum-less/three-piece kit is fucking hilarious.

    Finally Blood on the Wall took the stage.  I'm on record as being a big fan, with their most recent album, Liferz, coming in at #4 on my Best Albums So Far in 2008 list and with that same February show being among my favorite shows in '08, as well.  With these guys having a bunch of touring under their belts in support of Liferz, many of the songs have changed shape somewhat, notably with nearly everything -- even including the more mid-tempo songs -- being played incredibly fast.  Again they opened with the awesome "Stoner Jam" and with a bunch of shit from Awesomer as well.  When the set ended (after a tidy 35 minutes or so) the band reemerged briefly, busting into "Acid Fight" as the encore, followed by the drummer basically destroying his drumkit by belly flopping onto it.  Looked painful, but also looked mad fun.  After this they played another song, broken guitar string flailing in the breeze, with the drummer pounding on his still-upright snare and an audience member joining in on a jettisoned floor tom.  Fun, fun, fun!

    Boy, I was planning on writing more, even going so far as to compare Brad from BOTW to the (hypothetical) muppet that got kicked off of Sesame Street for refusing to bathe, but I suddenly got really tired.  Sorry bout that.  BOTW rule, etc.  Anyway I don't have tix for anything during this upcoming week, so I'll probably wind up trying to catch some bands I've never heard of before.  Mealz outward/etc.

Blood on the Wall with Cause Co-Motion and Eric Copeland (of Black Dice) at Yuppie Northsix, February 22nd 2008

    As it turned out, the weather proved little impediment to me making it out to the show.  There were surprisingly few cars on the LIE (especially for a Friday) which was nice but I still ran into several spots (near the Grand Central and on the BQE) where for some strange reason nobody was going over 40 but whatever, a fairly smooth ride in.

    I wasn't in as great a mood as I should have been for this show: first off, I was feeling kind of sick and lethargic all day, not a good sign considering that this was to be only the second of five (hypothetical) consecutive nights seeing shows.  Grrrr.  Also my new, obscenely expensive computer started crashing and freezing again and I spent another two hours on the phone with the retards at Dell technical support who had me running diagnostic tests that would wind up lasting nearly fifteen hours.  (That's the main reason I didn't get to start this entry until a day late). 

    After parking next to the school on N. 6th and walking through the sludge up to the venue, I was "greeted" by the as-always useless and downright rude Music Hall of Williamsburg staff.  (Seriously, fuck these guys).  It was freezing cold and I asked the door guy if I had to wait in line if I already had a ticket.  No response, other than a blink.  Um, OK.  Not wanting to press the issue, I went to the end of the line and waited... until a few minutes later the same guy made an announcement that was totally inaudible to the back half of the line, which is where I was standing.  "Sir, could you repeat that?" I called out, but of course this dickhole was too cool to oblige a response. 

    (By the way, if this show review winds up devolving into a "Why Music Hall of Williamsburg Sucks" article, so be it.  I fucking hate that place.)

    By the time I made it inside (and bought a green Blood on the Wall tee shirt for $12, yay), I was in absolutely no mood for the opening act, which was a guy twiddling knobs and creating a melody-free, meterless cacophony.  Much of the crowd seemed to be as puzzled as I, but one girl was headbanging along to this mess as though she knew something that everybody else didn't.  I wasn't surprised when, mid-set, she did an about-face and booked out of the room, presumably to hop in front of an oncoming bus.

    As usual, my back was fucking killing me so I decided to sit down for a minute before being accosted by another security goon who told me in no uncertain terms "no sitting."  What a stupid fucking rule.  Now, I can imagine if an artist is performing at the time, or if the room is filling up with people, the security wouldn't want you sitting.  That's perfectly reasonable.  But no, it was setbreak and there were less than 50 people in the fucking room (I counted).  Nice of this asshole to take time out from his usual routine of knocking over liquor shops and stealing hubcaps to work at MHOW. 

    Second act, Cause Co-Motion went on and they were both fun and funny.  They're a bunch of kids singing energetic indie pop/punk and having an infectiously great time while doing it.  The drummer's "kit" consisted of a floor tom, a snare, and a single undersized cymbal (that's right, no kick drum) which was hilarious considering that he was sitting down and basically running in place throughout the set.  Somebody must've replaced the bassist's decaf with regular because he was hopping and rolling around the stage throughout their entire set.  Nothing Earth-shattering, but you could do a lot worse for an opening band.

    I made my way to the front of the stage and played a few rounds of pinball before noticing that the singer from Panthers (another great Brooklyn band) was standing close by.  Normally this wouldn't have been terribly notable but I uh, "hung out" with the poor dude at a Cheeseburger show last year where I got drunker than I've been in forever, probably creeping the guy out with my geeky knowledge of his band.  (After I saw Panthers open for Witch back in March '06 I was convinced they were the best band in the world for a few weeks and, in true dork fashion, even sought out the bandmembers' previous musical projects.)  Anyway, after a couple minutes I said "what's up" or something before suggesting "and let's never speak of it again," which was met with agreement. 

    Blood on the Wall was up next, and although I knew pretty much what to expect (I loved their set opening for Dinosaur Jr. back in August '06) I've become considerably more familiar with their catalog in the interim -- their new album, Liferz, is my most listened-to new album of '08 (according to iTunes) and their previous effort, Awesomer is no slouch either.  They started the set with "Stoner Jam" and ambled their way through an hour-or-so worth of bouncy garagey punk so shambolic that the wheels seem ready to pop off at any point, although they never do.  Four songs in, they lit into ironic smack anthem (uh, I think), "Junkee Juliee," my favorite jam of theirs, and all was right in the universe; all thoughts of my malfunctioning computer, impending sickness, the shitty weather and the useless thugs that make up the MHOW staff had disappeared.  Aaaahhhh.

    The set continued in like fashion, and the crowd seemed to really love it -- at least where I was, up against the stage, people were bopping and fist-pumping and drinking and rocking the fuck out.  Of course, a few people got a bit overzealous and chucked empty cups onstage, but who gives a fuck, this is a rock show, right?  The band didn't seem to mind, so no harm no foul, right?  Ummmm... apparently not.  Mid-headbang, the same jagoff that reminded me of the "no sitting" rule tapped me on the shoulder and through clenched teeth accused me of leaving a couple of empty beer cups on the edge of the stage.  Of course, I wasn't drinking and they weren't mine but I salute this intrepid soul's brave one-man campaign to rid the room of empty beer cups.  Fuckface.

    By the time the band finished off their encore with "Acid Fight" the crowd had been sufficiently rocked, and, as a member of said crowd, I retreated onto N. 6th Street towards my car.  Fun fun fun show, but, uh, guys?  If you could do it at Mercury Lounge or somewhere less douchey next time it would be great.