Tuddd's Muddd

7 Shows, 6 Days, 100+ Alcoholic Beverages, Edibles Galore, a Zip of Insane Upstate Outdoor, and Yes [drumroll pls], A FUCKING SPALDING. [PART II]

 
[Nuff said]

[NOTE: as indicated by the above title, the entry you are currently reading completes this post, albeit almost exactly a month later / tardiness duly noted / bite me.  Also, thanks to Ben for supplying a couple of these pictures.]

Wild Yaks at Cameo Gallery + (PARTY TYME), Saturday March 12, 2011

    At about 6 AM I got a phone call from my friend, who we'll call "Cindy Shouts," (hehehheheh), who was coming down from Buffalo for the weekend-plus for some good old-fashioned show-going and good timez... she and her friend, who we'll call "Ben," were rapidly approaching NYC.  About an hour later they were at my doorstep... pleasantries were exchanged, and I was generously bequeathed gifts the likes of which I've rarely seen, including a huge fucking tray of pot brownies (YAY!), an ounce of insane dank (DOUBLE DOG YAY!), a Buffalo Sabres beer coozie (HAHHAHA AWESOME) and a Garfield-themed promotional glass (inside joke).  Since it was still mad early, we retired to our respective sleeping quarters for a few hours before meeting up for a splendid Vietnamese sandwich lunch and, then... retiring to our respective sleeping quarters again, hahaha.

    Picked them up for dinner (Wild Ginger, yummo) before heading first to Radegast for beers and then to Cameo for the Wild Yaks show... apparently I had seen this band before a couple summers ago opening up for Brooklyn's Your Nature (who I enjoyed), but I didn't remember jack shit about 'em.  Before the show I wondered aloud what they sounded like, and was told "beards and yelling." Lamentably, this description turned out to be all too accurate.  [For the record, the yelling was horrendously off-key to boot.]  But the band's suckitude was our gain; fortch I had earlier procured a "saucy grande," AKA a "Spalding," and the time to tap that shit was nigh.

    Not gonna lie -- there are few things in life I enjoy more than combining cheap beer, expensive drugs, and gratuitous musical discussion.  Said enjoyment is amplified exponentially when one's companions have great taste in music, as was the case in this instance.  Snippets of the evening's conversation, each of which still ring true at the time of this (relatively) sober writing:

• Major Stars are FUCKING AWESOME. 
• Sleep's Jerusalem / Dopesmoker is THE SINGLE GREATEST ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT BY ANYONE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING.
• My new apartment beats the shit out of my old place in every possible way.
• I love the new Parts & Labor album, and I'm OK with being a bit obnoxious trying to convert people.  Sue me.
• God fucking dammit do I wish Cindy still lived in Brooklyn. 

    Eventually 4:30 rolled around and my roommate and his girlfriend, who were just getting home, stepped up to the plate (um, literally) and joined the party... Cindy and Ben headed back to their hotel just after sunrise, and the impromptu shindig finally petered out at my place around 8:30 AM.  Yay. (Literally, heheh.)

Harvey Milk with Occultation at Union Pool, Sunday, March 13, 2011

 

    Harvey Milk with Occultation at Union Pool, Sunday, March 13, 2011

    With the previous "evening" not technically ending until mid-morning, none of us were feeling especially spry.  I finally rolled out of bed sometime between 2 and 3 PM before heading out to Saint's Alp on Bedford for some noodles, dumplings, and a lovely smoothie type thingy of some sort.  Bought a couple of pricey muffins (Muffins! WHEEE!) on the way home before contacting Cindy and Ben; at this point in the day, for some reason I felt like a million bucks; suffice it to say my comrades did not.  It was agreed that we would meet up at Union Pool not much before the show was supposed to start so as to provide for an ample opportunity for further recharging of batteries.

    One indication that I'm majorly scrambled is when I have trouble narrowing down my pre-show intoxicant choices.  With so many options at my disposal (blow, weed, pot brownies, ketamine, moon rocks, alcohol, nitrous, etc.) I decided a sugar-free Red Bull and a healthy portion of Cindy's pot brownies would be the evening's preferred speedball. 

    As things turned out, "doors at 8" turned into "doors at 9," with the opening band, Occultation, not starting their set until about 9:40 PM.  Ouch.  But, in this case, the good thing about an interminably delayed show was that by the time the band started playing, I was fucking FLYING, which was the perfect recipe for enjoying Occultation's doom / stoner / prog / psych / ultra-reverby bag.  I quite liked these guys. 

    By setbreak, my head was fucking spinning.  [AWESOME.]  As I hung tight to my spot on the right side of the stage, more jackasses began elbowing and jostling for position... this is what happens when you have a sold out show at Union Pool via 'small room / obnoxious entitled scenesters n' posers.'  But what can ya do.

    The mighty Harvey Milk took the stage and greeted us by playing their newest release, last year's A Small Turn of Human Kindness, in its ENTIRETY.  Yes, you read that right: top to bottom, front to back, head to toe, the crowd was treated to a complete run-thru of what's arguably the bleakest, most oppressively cheerless piece of music ever committed to tape.  To start the show.  Yep.

    Which, needless to say, was fucking AWESOME.  A Small Turn may have been described as "a huge, steaming pile of unpleasantness, completely inappropriate for anyone who spends less than half their day plotting the deaths of themselves/others" by, uh, me, but I somehow managed to glean some honest-to-goodness beauty from this live rendition.  Or maybe it was the brownies.  Either way, my grin was ear-to-ear througout the whole thing.

    Oh, but there was more.  Earlier in the set Harvey Milk main man Creston Spiers had suggested the following to the audience: "we'll play for as late as they'll let us, as long as we don't have to play an encore."  Sir, you've got yourself a deal!  They then proceeded to plow through another 40 minutes of classics, including personal faves "Shame," "Motown," and "I Do Not Know How to Live My Life."  Great show, and Harvey Milk's was easily one of the best sets I've seen all year. 

    As for post-show, we were all still pretty shot from the previous evening's coke-besotted blowout, so after a couple quick beers at my place we pulled the plug and called it a night, and wisely so.

    [I doubt any enterprising tapers captured this set, but go here for an EXCELLENT recording from the Harvey Milk set from two nights later.]

 

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Godspeed You! Black Emperor at Terminal 5, Monday, March 14, 2011,

    Godspeed You! Black Emperor is a band that I figured I'd never see live, and for many reasons.  For one, they hadn't played a live show in nearly 10 years.  For two, there are like ten people in the band, and shepherding them all together couldn't be that simple after all this time (could it?).  For three, given Godspeed's shadowy reputation as highly principled anarcho-enviro-socialists (um, or something), they seem like the last band in the world that would reunite behind the strength of absolutely NO new material for a quick n' dirty Filthy Lucre-tastic cash-grab-o-rama world tour.

    But I'm glad that they did.  I was actually originally thinking of skipping Godspeed on this tour despite them playing so many NYC dates (was it four? five?) because, frankly, the venues they had chosen in which to perform (Terminal 5 and Brooklyn Masonic Temple) are the two absolute WORST-sounding shitboxes I've ever set foot in.  But my mind was changed by three things: 1.) Cindy's visit, and she already had a ticket; 2.) as mentioned earlier, Cindy's brownies would be visiting, and I could see Godspeed being PERFECT on one of her borderline psychedelic treatz; 3.) Tix for the Terminal 5 show could be had for a reasonable price (about $40).  SOLD!

    Anyway, the hours leading up to the show were totally uninteresting, so I'll fast-forward to meeting up with Cindy and Ben at Terminal 5.  We snuck up reasonably close on the left side of the stage, away from the seemingly constant shuffle of feet, the horrendous echo chamber, the mind-bogglingly atrocious sight lines, and the terrible echo chamber effect you get well, pretty much anywhere else in this room. 

    Once again, my enjoyment of the opening act was greatly enhanced as a result of the cartoonishly large hunk of brownie I consumed.  On this night, Colin Stetson opened, he of the cartoonishly large bass saxophone and the flawless circular breathing technique.  Stetson wrangled so many disparate sounds out of his instrument that I initially thought he was utilizing some sort of sampler, but apparently he was creating all of the tones and textures live without effects, which is pretty astounding.  Yup, I enjoyed his set (which can be downloaded here).

    Finally Godspeed was up.  And not 'finally' because setbreak took forever or nuthin' like that.  'Finally' because this would 'finally' be the 'final' set I would see over this 6 day, 7 show, 12 band shitzaster.  Deep breaths, everyone.

    Of course, this set was truly epic.  I am going to do my best to forego too much flowery fudgepackery here, but what a great, great, great band.  A few notes:

• When discussing the vaguely-defined, unfortunately-named "post rock" genre, Godspeed is undeniably king.  More virtuosic than Mogwai, grander than Sigur Ros, more dynamic and diverse than Explosions in the Sky, and just plain better in every way than bands like Tortoise, Maserati, Trans-Am, Red Sparowes, and on and on.
• For someone that has spent altogether too much time taking in limp, uninspired sets by atrocious trendy Bushwick shitgaze / laptop pop / krustcock / twee / post-smegma / whatever acts over the past several years, the Godspeed concert experience is a revelation.  And the respectful crowd combined with the emotive, dramatic nature of the music to somehow make the show seem more intimate than it should have seemed, considering the 3000-strong attendance.
• The set lasted about 2 hours, 20 minutes, lengthy by nearly anyone's standard.  However, at no point did it feel like they had overstayed their welcome.
• From what I remember, the band was accompanied by provocative images / phrases projected on the wall at the back of the stage.  That's all well and good, but in my state, listening intently with eyes closed tight worked just fine, thankyouverymuch-ah. 
• I have NEVER heard Terminal 5 sound this great, which is really a feat considering the (assumed by me) difficulty of micing and amplifying so many instruments.  [If ya don't believe that it sounded great, hear for yourself.] 

    Post show, we walked a few blocks along 11th Ave. before grabbing a cab back to the the uber-hip Ace Hotel, where Cindy and Ben had a room.  [How hip?  Well, the desk in the room was already scratched to shit due to previous occupants cutting up narcotics on its surface.  THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!!!]  After wandering around for awhile in search of ABSOLUTELY ANYWHERE THAT WOULD SELL US BOOZE, we very cumbersomely and awkwardly bought about 20 loose Bud tall boys at a Rite Aid, and the party was on. 

    As fun as the show was, the remainder of the evening > early morning was probably funner.  More music geekery, improbably vitriolic arguments (which is the poppiest Sleater-Kinney song ever?!?), dance party starring Ting Tings and Hercules & Love Affair, more Jerusalem / Dopesmoker (of course!), and let's not forget that spalding.  I seem to remember finally cabbing it back to Williamsburg circa 6:30 AM, borderline blacked out, grinning like a retard.  

    So, across the board, GREAT.  FUCKING.  TIME.  Come back any time, y'alls.   

 

[Was it something I said?]

Raveonettes at Music Hall of Williamsburg, April 21, 2011

[Raveonettes performing "Forget That You're Young" during the encore at Music Hall of Williamsburg, 4/21/11]

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• This was the eleventh time I've seen The Raveonettes live / I think they're on the short list of Greatest Bands in the World / Chain Gang of Love is my single favorite album OF ALL TIME.  Their new album Raven in the Grave is one of the two finest albums I've heard so far this year.  Yes, they are awesome.  [OK, that's out of the way.  Click here for a lengthy post / show review re: The Raveonettes from a few years back.]
• Pregame: many bowls, and a healthy portion of Cindy's seizure-inducingly great pot brownies.
• If y'haven't seen this yet, have a gander.  It was purchased 11 days ago by my good buddy Beaf at the Dallas Raves show.  [If you look closely, you'll notice that the poster is from their 2007 "Loud and Intimate Electric Duo Tour," which consisted of 6 total dates, of which I saw two.  After the Southpaw show, I saw a guy get run over by a taxi.  Ask me about it sometime!]
• OK.  Very glad they're playing at Music Hall... almost exactly a mile from my doorstep.  After a nice brisk walk I got to the venue at about quarter after 9, and, thankfully, said aforementioned brownie had already kicked in by the time I got inside.  Took a squeege and headed upstairs, where I found plenty of room along the left side of the floor... no house lights between sets, which (believe me) is going to be noticed by the dude who's practically tripping face.
• I enjoyed the opener, Tamaryn, whose shoegazy-meets-dreampoppy bag was the *perfect* soundtrack for me at that moment, what with the loopy, reverby goodness being augmented by my very own auditory hallucinations.
• Setbreak revealed the Raveonettes' new stage setup: dueling 3-piece drum kits at both sides of the stage, with one of the drummers switching off between drumming and rhythm guitar for most of the set.  Also, they brought their own special light show, being comprised of 6 vertical white fluorescent lights and 3 little groupings of multicolored light thingies. 
• Raveonettes opened their set with "Recharge and Revolt," with both of the drummers playing guitar, Sharin on bass, and Sune on vocals... this was probably the first time I've ever seen the Raves perform a song without Sune playing an instrument. 
• Setlist included songs from their entire recorded career, with the wealth of new stuff [6 new songs!] sounding awesome amongst the old chestnuts.  When a band has as many great songs as the Raveonettes do, it's easy to get wrapped up in the "man, why didn't they play..." game post-show, but the setlist was pretty fucking solid.  [See below for said actual setlist.]
• Set highlights for me were Chain Gang's "The Love Gang;" hearing two of the best new songs, "Apparitions" and "Evil Seeds," played back to back, Sune's solo during "Love in a Trashcan," and the awesome little noisy jam they did in "Attack of the Ghost Riders."  
• If I had to submit an entry into the fictional "What Do You Think Is the Perfect Song?" survey, it would probably be "Dead Sound."
• Stuff that complimented my brownie buzz nicely: the massive "wall of sound;" the flawlessly executed light show; the disco ball (I've seen probably damn near a hundred shows in this room.  How the hell did I never notice the disco ball before?!); the patient, attentive crowd.  It's pretty tough not to fall at least a little in love with Sune and Sharin when you see them live.
• The set ended, appropriately with "My Time Is Up," from the new record, and the encore closed out with Sharin switching over to guitar for "Aly, Walk With Me." 
• Probably the best show I've seen all year. 
• go HERE if you want better pics from this show.  Tuddd out for now......

 

Setlist:

1.) Recharge and Revolt

2.) War in Heaven

3.) Let Me On Out

4.) Dead Sound

5.) Noisy Summer

6.) Love in a Trashcan

7.) Lust

8.) Apparitions

9.) Evil Seeds

10.) Ignite

11.) The Love Gang

12.) My Tornado

13.) Attack of the Ghost Riders

14.) Heart of Stone

15.) My Time Is Up

ENCORE:

16.) Forget That You're Young

17.) Aly Walk With Me

My Weekend - Aminal at Lit, Come at Bell House, and Monogold at Union Pool

    3 nights, 3 shows.  Ain't no thang / that's how I roll, beetchez.

    So, we got to Lit a bit early, and headed across the street to Kabin, one of my least favorite bars in NYC... my buddy Devin was already trashed so I had some serious catch-up to do.  Several pints later (and, regrettably, a 'conversation' about evolution with a gravely-misinformed, semi-literate racist piece of garbage later) we headed back over to Lit and down to the basement.

    I had missed Aminal's set when Devin's band, the newly (as of last week) rechristened Big Shots, played with them at UC Lounge about a month ago.  Anyway, tonight I caught the full set, and these bastards have got some honest to gawd straight motherfuckin' TALENT.  I'm not going to tidily try to pigeonhole their music into one convenient category, because I'm pretty sure that would be missing the point entirely.  Instead, what I was hearing veered chaotically between prog, funk metal, and some parts that reminded me of all the alternative rock radio I listened to in the '90s.  Needless to say, I enjoyed the shit out of it.

[Go HERE to hear Aminal's track, "Krill."]

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    The post-Aminal party ran late and had me hurtin' Saturday... I wound up not getting out of bed until 3:30 PM.  I knew this Come show was going to be an earlier affair (doors at 6) and with the rain coming down in buckets Saturday night, I wound up driving over to Gowanus for this show with a sack of White Castles in tow.

    At some point in or around summer '07 [uh, I think?] I was totally obsessed with Come's fantastic first album, 11:11.  I'm pretty sure that said obsession coincided with the bizarre period of my life where I was running a door factory out on Long Island, which makes perfect sense because 11:11 is pretty damned bleak and disheartening at points (although it still manages to rock), and working at a door factory is fucking depressing shit, especially when your boss is a vicious wifebeating multiple felon scumbag.  Anyway.

    I totes missed out on Come the first time around during the '90s.  Actually got into their shit when I saw Thalia Zedek open up for Dinosaur Jr at this show years ago.  Over the years I saw Zedek's solo band four times total, including this one at Tonic in early '07 and this one at Bowery in '09.  So, it's pretty safe to say that I celebrate Ms. Zedek's entire catalog, and I was pretty psyched when I randomly noticed that Come would be playing Bell House.

    Got there towards the end of the opening act, D. Charles Speer, who were just finishing their set of what seemed to be uptempo rockabilly instrumentals.  No complaints from me there.

    Eleventh Dream Day took what seemed like forever [remember, I was hung over as fuck] setting their gear up.  Not gonna lie, I really didn't care for their music.  Most of it sounded like tired '90s tropes, and the stuff that didn't totally suck sounded like Neil Young retreads.  Meh.

    Come's set, however, did the trick.  Much to my delight, they performed over half of 11:11 as well as reaching back to several other notable highlights from their career (including personal favorite "In / Out" from Don't Ask Don't Tell).  Zedek's raspy vocals effectively clawed their way somewhere between her own insistent, hard-driving chording and the more twangy, bluesy riffing of Chris Brokaw, with the ensuing turmoil driven onward by drummer Arthur Johnson's shifting rhythms.  This was EXACTLY what I thought the Come live experience would be like.  Well done. 

    [See directly below for the setlist.]

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    My third time seeing Monogold this year [brief review of a previous show located somewhere in this slovenly mess], only this time I pre-gamed with one of my friend Cindy's insane pot brownies.  Having seen Godspeed at Terminal 5 last month (and having had my Godspeed live experience thoroughly augmented by said baked goods), I figured "what the hey" and threw down accordingly.  I had a feeling that my exhaustion would combine with Monogold's heavily reverbed poppiness and the splendid acoustics of the room at Union Pool to create a superior listening experience, and I was right.  Yay!

    Seriously, do your ears a favor and see these guys live, and check out their new record, The Softest Glow, which is really fucking good.

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    Yes, I'm pissed about Mogwai canceling their NYC dates, but fret not.  I still get to see the Raveonettes Thursday night at Music Hall, Austerity Program with The Netherlands at Charleston Friday, and Crocodiles Saturday at Music Hall. 

    And where are my manners... HAPPY 420 Y'ALL'S!

 

BOAT at Mercury Lounge, April 9th, 2011

[yeah, my camera phone is garbage.  Deal with it.]

    HEY KIDS!  Remember Friday, when I was in kind of a crummy mood and I went out, got borderline black, and had a great fucking time seeing a band that I really, really enjoy?  Well, LUCKY ME, same darn thing happened on Saturday!  HUZZAH!

    BULLET POINTS!  YAY!!!!

• I was up drinking etc. until about 6 AM last night, FWIW.  Why?  Because it's easier to sit in my chair and continue said activities than it is to move 3 feet north into my pleasant, eager, warm, willing, awaiting bed.  I'm a fucking moron.  Woke up around 10 AM, procrastinated on lunch, then decided to watch the Yankees knock the snot out of the Boston Sucks Red Sox Suck, wheeeee.  The ensuing nap, sadly, did not take.
• I knew that this BOAT show was going to start early, so I started mobilizing circa 5:30 PM.  My day was one of those weird deals where I wasn't *exactly* hung over but I'm still slamming water in heroic quantities and peeing like... uh... what's the cliche here?  "Peeing like a frat guy at a beer pong tournament?" "Peeing like a Brussels Boy fountain slash statue?" "Peeing like a pee pee machine set to 'MAXIMUM PEE PEE?'" No clue where to go on this one.  Spotter, pls.
• Really didn't want to go to the show sober, but all I had on hand was some sub-par vodka.  So I took matters into my own hands and hit up the M.R. Grocery on Roebling, bought a 20 oz. orange Gatorade and an orange FourLoko, slammed the Gatorade, and poured said FourLoko into said now-empty Gatorade bottle so I could get fucked up easily on the J.  Now that's usin' yer noggin!
• As such, although I stepped onto the J at Marcy a sober man, I exited at Essex a stumbling mess.  Not too shab.
• Walked up to Mercury Lounge, opening the door so enthusiastically (hahaha) that the bouncer told me to "be careful, man!" and that " [I] nearly fucking killed [him]!" My bad!
• Chatted with the singer / guitarist and the drummer from BOAT for awhile.  Good dudes.  Their recent tour has consisted of about 9 or 10 dates, and they recorded a Daytrotter session last weekend after their Brooklyn show.  [Full disclosure: I missed the Brooklyn show last weekend because of this shitshow.]  This would be the final show of the tour.  Doesn't look like Daytrotter has their session up yet, but I'll try to let ya know when they do.
• Said BOAT dudes mentioned that they needed to locate a store that would sell them a pair of scissors.  Having attended two different awesome BOAT Arts N Crafts Nites (macaroni shakers and '88 Mets facemasks -- both of which I still have somewhere), I was curious what they had in store for us on this night.
• Not going to slag off either of the opening bands, but let's just say they weren't exactly my cups of tea. 
• BOAT took the stage at about 9 PM or so.  I've made this comparison in the past, but back when GbV first attained some level of national notoriety, audiences were expecting like a weirdo-folk hippie commune to show up and perform the music (understandable, considering some of the weird-ass shit that's on Bee Thousand).  Instead, legendarily, GbV showed up with an insanely loud, arena-ready 2-guitar attack up in this bitch, knocking the assembled audience out of their fucking socks.  A similar thing could have been said for BOAT's live show a couple years ago, especially considering the first time I saw them live it was after hearing their weirdest, scrappiest album, Let's Drag Our Feet, and I half expected the band to consist of a ragtag bunch of acoustic-toting, xylophone-tapping nut-jobs, which was fortunately not the case.  For the record, BOAT's live show these days is basically an awesome power-poppy deal, way louder, funner and more rockin' than 99% of today's (or any time's, for that matter) indie poppers. 
• The set was EXCELLENT.  I was pretty liquid after a few pints and and a vodky Red Bull, so for much of the evening I was basically rocking out and shouting along.  Apologies to anyone that overheard me screaming the lyrics totes off key an' shit.  It happens.
• The evening's "arts and crafts" consisted of a massive cut-out head and word balloon announcing that this was BOAT's New York Record Release show (they were selling their new album, Dress Like Your Idols, on vinyl at the merch table).  Also there was a huge cut-out picture of a plate of nachos, and an another accompanying word balloon announcing "BOAT GOES THRU YOU LIKE A PLATE OF NACHOS!" or something similar, hahaha.  Apparently they weren't allowed to hang these items on the walls around the stage due to potentially causing a "fire hazard," so instead the band held them up at different points during the show.
• The set was EXCELLENT.  (Yes, I realize I said that earlier, but it begs repeating.)  Nothing from the first album (I was considering being a bastard and requesting "Lanterns and Laughing Ladies" throughout the set, but fortunately refrained), but a few each from Let's Drag Our Feet and '09's excellent Setting the Paces, with the rest coming from Dress Like Your Idols.  For the encore, the band gave us the choice: "do you want to hear one of our songs, or one of someone else's?"  The overwhelming response was "SURPRISE US!" so they whipped out their excellent "Interstate 5." 
• So yup, friggin' awesome all around.  Check the setlist below, and further below check a pic of the shirt I bought (one for me, one for Beafi).  RAWK. 

1. Dress Like Your Idols
2. Come With Me We'll Win
3. The Name Tossers
4. Bite My Lips
5. We Want It! We Want It!
6. Kinda Scared of Love Affairs
7. (I'll Beat My Chest Like) King Kong
8. The Ferocious Sounds of Lobsters and Snakes
9. Classically Trained
10. Make Way for the Genius to Appear
11. Lately (I've Been on My Back)
12. Forever in Armitron

        --Encore

   13. Interstate 5

 

Parts and Labor at Cake Shop, April 8, 2011

    Just got back from the show, loaded up the bowl, and poured myself a TALLLLL Vodky / soda / splash'a cran.  Thought I was kinda sober when I got on the train home.  That was an inaccurate assessment / I am fucking TRASHED.  Deets to follow.

• Hate to admit that just a short four weeks ago I still hadn't heard note one by Parts and Labor.  Although, yes, I'm a bit late to the party on these guys, I'm already a full-fledged convert; by this point they've already scored the coveted (HAHHAHAHH!) #1 slot on my first "Best Albums of '11" list.  Naturally, the next step was to see them live. 
• After some serious huffing and puffing, hopped the J to Essex.  Cake Shop calendar said doors at 8, but I was prepared for the worst, which came to fruition when I was informed that shit wasn't going to get started until about quarter after 9.  FUUUUUUUCK!
• Went a few doors down from Cake Shop to Iggy's, a bar I really disenjoy.  Last time I was there I got the distinct impression that I was the only person in the bar not on intense amphetamines, although an improbably awesome PBR special kept me glued to my barstool.  This time, I walked in and they're playing Sublime (?!???!) and I wind up getting harassed by some drunk, coked-up 60 something dude about the goings-on in the NBA.  He had no clue what the fuck he was talking about, but I politely nodded as he spouted such gems as "man, I hope the Knicks play the Sixers in the first round!" [eyeroll]  Needless to say, this guy was BRUTAL, and probably deserved to be burned, alive.  Trying to break up the conversation, I ordered a second pint, but the fucking bartender FORGOT ABOUT ME, leaving me with my dick in my hand for about 10 minutes.  Ultimately, I went unserved.  Despite wanting to get drunk -- and fast -- I decided that my time was better used just wandering aimlessly around the Lower East Side.
• Drank a bunch of pints at that shithole Nice Guy Eddie's.  "Hey Nice Guy Eddies, 'fuck you,' you're a shit bar.  Except for the hot bartender (the one with the glasses)."  Very uneventful.
• Finally stumbled into Cake Shop at about a quarter to ten.  Was informed that I had missed the opening band, Hunters, which was just fine by me; four bands can be a tall order especially if three of them could potentially suck ass.
• First band I saw was Zulu, and they were horrible.  Just tuneless infantile thrashing about, which can be ok if your shouty guy sounds kind of intimidating.  This guy, not so much; he sounded like he was scolding his loftmate for carelessly placing a chai latte on his back-up iPad.  Whiny, monotonous and shitty.
• Began pounding Rock cans with reckless abandon.
• Escaped outside only to be aggressively panhandled by a dude about my size (read: kinda terrifying) for a couple of bucks. 
• Next band, from the "dark hole of Cleveland" (their words, not mine, although I concur), was Puffy Areolas.  They had kind of a proto-punk backbone filtered thru a more modern noisy presentation, which I obviously fucking dug.  The guitarist / singer guy spent most of his time fucking around in the first few rows of the audience (right where I was standing), so mad fucking props on that shiiiiiiiiit.  Was disappointed to see they apparently didn't have any CDs for sale. 
• The crowd seemed at least a little into this deal, which was nice because these guys were playing their fucking tits off.
• Drank some more Rocks at setbreak.  Tried to weasel my way into a cheap shot-and-a-beer special, but the bartender wasn't having it.  I'm sorry, but if the best you can do for a well shot and a can of beer is $10, you can go fuck yourself.
• Parts and Labor was up next and they did NOT disappoint.  Just great, noisy, at times inspirational (um, "Hurricane," anyone?) power pop delivered by a bunch of dudes that seemed fucking ecstatic to be there.  Man is this a good band!
• The keyboard dude announced that this was their first show with their new (touring?) guitarist, who apparently 1.) has a pilots license and 2.) once skydived (skydove?) out of the plane used in Point Break.  AWESOME!!!  Oddly enough, the guitarist was mostly inaudible to me for the majority of the set, despite the fact that I was standing no more than eight or nine inches away from him the whole set.
• In my brief review of their newest album, I somehow retardedly neglected to mention that the drumming on Constant Future is just INSANE.  I haven't been so unexpectedly blown away by a drummer at a live show since this Fucking Champs show.  By my count I've seen about 25 shows so far this year (about 50-60 bands at least) and the only drummers I can name that can even so much as hold this guy's jock are Kenny from Goes Cube and Harvey Milk's Kyle Spence.  [OK, fine, and Austerity Program's drum machine.]
• Setlist had a bunch of shit spanning Constant Future, Receivers, Mapmaker and Stay Afraid.  Plenty of new shit but regrettably no "Fake Names" or "Constant Future" or "Bright White."
• Hmmmm.  Not sure how I can more avidly recommend these guys.  Running out of nice things that I can say before this review turns into a straight fuckin' cartoon beejer.  Buy their records, see them live, and when you do, dance around like you're undergoing invisible electro shock treatment.  I did!
• Some props for the venue.  Watching (and becoming obsessed with) Jay Reatard's infamous Cake Shop set from back in the day (and having seen some bad ass shows in this room in my own right) has kind of made me remember certain past great Cake Shop shows with a sort of glowing wistful fondness.  Or maybe it's just the Christmas lights.
  
• Setlist below; see further below for a pic I took of the actual setlist from the stage [yes I am that nerd]:

Setlist:

1. Fractured Skies
2. Echo Chamber
3. A Thousand Roads
4. Wedding in a Wasteland
5. Outnumbered -> (yes, a legitimate segue)
6. Rest
7. Skin and Bones
8. The Gold We're Digging
9. Hurricane [probably the highlight of the set for me]
10. Never Changer [a/k/a pissbreak]
11. Nowhere's Nigh

        --ENCORE--

    12. Changing of the Guard

[Man was it dark down there]

7 Shows, 6 Days, 100+ Alcoholic Beverages, Edibles Galore, a Zip of Insane Upstate Outdoor, and Yes [drumroll pls], A FUCKING SPALDING. [PART I]

   

    [^heheheheh]

    So, recently, I attended 7 show in 6 days, as mentioned above.  Not too shabby a showing, if I do say so myself... in fact, that might actually be a personal record of some sort.  [On that tip, who th' fuck knows / cares.]  Over said 7 shows and 6 days, a ton of bands were seen (including Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Colin Stetson, Harvey Milk, Occultation, Fang Island, Hollerado, Monogold, Goes Cube, Austerity Program, Rosetta, Naam, Liquor Store, Wild Yaks), dangerous amounts of substances were consumed, acquaintances were renewed with old friends, and an unfair amount of fun was had.  Frankly, I have no clue how I managed to avoid getting really sick / throwing my back out / collapsing due to sheer exhaustion throughout this whole debacle because I'M REALLY FUCKING OLD.

    Anyway, deets onward: 

Goes Cube, Austerity Program, Rosetta and Naam at Studio at Webster Hall, Wednesday March 9, 2011

 

• Met up with my buddy Jimmy Dogshit for some booze (including appletinis, an unfortunate tradition of ours) and mediocre burgers at the Pour House.  Our waitress resembled a wholesomer version of British pornstar McKenzie Lee, whose work, coincidentally, I had, er, "enjoyed" just minutes before arriving at the Pour House.  SCHWING!
• Rolled up to Studio towards the end of Naam's set.  Wish I had more to report on these guys (because I've been told they're worthwhile), but sadly I don't.
• Rosetta was up next, and they underscored their reputation as being "the hardest band in the world to mic."  Their set at Santos in January opening up for Kylesa during one of the blizzards really converted me from "casual fan" to "ardent admirer who has no qualms shirking responsibilities to go out and see 'em on a random weeknight."  The sound sucked ass (I know, unusual for a Studio show) but the sweaty performance made up for it.
• Let me tell you, considering this was the first night of a planned HUGE fucking binge, you would think that I would've had the brains to actually take it easy on Night #1 instead of going balls to the wall.  But, as I have terrible judgment and generally do things ass-backwards, I wound up getting fucking SHITFACED.  Greyed out, and although I have no idea exactly how much booze I drank, I do know for a fact that I spent all $100 cash I had on me on booze at the show (mixed drinks were $6, beers were $4, and rock-bottom whiskey shots were also $4, so you do the fucking math), and wound up having to actually card my last two rock-bottom whiskey shots and beers.  And when I got home for some reason I had 7 empty plastic shot glasses in my pocket.  "THESE'LL COME IN HANDY!"  As mentioned earlier, a shabby performance by me this was not. 
• Austerity Program's set was next, and allow me to report (it ain't no secret): the house was thoroughly ROCKED.  They played the entirety of their fucking stellar EP from last year (#9 on last year's Best Albums list) as well as "Song 20" and... uhhhh... was that it?  Fuck, I don't remember, but let me tell ya, it sure makes for great drunken thrashing around.
• Goes Cube finished off the evening with exactly the type of skullfuckingly brutal performance that I've come to expect since I started seeing them live 5 years ago.  [Goddamn, how many times have I seen these guys live?  15?  20?  I'm not in Brooklyn at the time of this writing so I can't consult Tuddd Archives for the answer, but it's somewhere up there.  [edit: apparently it's 15 times, although that assumes that Tuddd Archives is actually accurate, which is highly unlikely.] Shee-itt.]  Anyway, their set drew liberally from what seemed like all of their most recent releases: 2009's Another Day Has Passed LP, last year's 7", the digital recording from Coextinction Recordings, and, of course, their forthcoming LP, In Tides and Drifts (which ain't out yet, but which, of course, I dorkily pre-ordered).  Since Goes Cube singer / guitarist David no longer lives in NYC, I was surprised at how insanely tight their set was, and the great sonics of the Studio space really highlighted Kenny's superb drumming and Matt's nimbly holding down the low end.  Obviously I'm a huge fan of these guys' music, and it was great to hear that this was the brand of fury they'd be truckin' down to SXSW.  RAWK.
• Anyway, tried to spit game with two Norwegian (uh, I think?) chicks post-show / failed miserably / wound up drinking Heinekens in the back of a cab during the ride home.  Woo Fucking Hoo.  Woke up the next morning with a head-splitting hangover (and a vexing case of bangover ta boot). 

------

Liquor Store at Death by Audio, Thursday, March 10, 2011

 

Nuff.  Fucking.  Said.

Friday, March 11th: Monogold at Glasslands AND Fang Island at Bowery Ballroom.

--and--

 

    Two shows in one night?!?  Why, that's just FUCKING BONKERS!!!!! 

    Well, not really.  Actually it's more about the combination of lucky scheduling and way too much time on my hands than anything else.  But nonetheless, I'm not exactly sure when was the last time that I pulled off two shows in one day.  Hmmmm.  Possibly it might have been in September '06 when I saw Mastodon at Webster Hall early, then Comets on Fire at Knitting Factory late.  Not gonna lie, that was pretty fucking badass.  ('Twas a good day indeed.)  Anyhow, the way this night shook out, I already had tix for Fang Island at Bowery, but I figured out I'd check out Monogold's early opening set at Glasslands before heading in to Manhattan, knowing that Monogold would be setting out in the van and driving down towards South by Southwest literally the moment their set was over.  Good shit.

    I first saw Monogold's live show at their Public Assembly record release show in mid-January - holy shitballs are they a good band, and man, was that a fun night.  They have a "current"-ish Williamsburg indie pop sound without the gayness of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart or Grizzly Bear or whoever,  while creating well-crafted, tuneful music that makes the kids want to shake they shit.  I've also been enjoying the bejeezus out of their newest album, The Softest Glow, as a nice change of pace from the usual steady diet of Melvins>Sleep>Melvins>Sleep>Melvins>Sleep playlist that more often than not can be found blaring out of my car stereo. 

    Monogold's set on this night was great, as it was the first time I saw 'em.  Frankly, they're another band that proves that I Don't Know Jack Shit About What Makes Music Popular, because they should be fucking huge.  My personal favorites from the set were "Dead Sea Minerals" and "Ivory Tusk, Golden Teeth"... check below for studio versions of these two sick motherfuckin' jams:

 

 

    I wished the gents my best on their SXSW journey and basically ran the fuck out of Glasslands the moment their set was done, heading southward back to my apartment briefly to crush a couple bowls of dank.  Sadly, this brief (yet hyper-necessary) dalliance meant that I'd get to Bowery towards the end of opening band Hollerado's set, which I regretted; I'd seen them open up for (and blow away) Black Lips (who fucking blow) in this same room in September '07.  Anyway, by the time I stumbled into Bowery, Hollerado was in the middle of a positively rippin' jam based on ZZ Top's "La Grange," and they looked to be having a great fucking time... again, I wish I had made it there a bit earlier, goddamn it. 

    Snuck way up front amongst the assembled 12 year-olds for Fang Island's set.  Of course, I'm on record as being a Fang Island booster from way back in the day.  Don't believe me?  Here's a short, sweet, and to the the point list of accolades I've heaped on these guys:

• First time I saw them live, in December '08, I wrote a glowing review.  [Read that shit.]
• Second time I saw them live, in April '10 at Maxwell's, uhhhhh... looks like I didn't write them up or anything that time around, but my buddy Devin shot this video of "Daisy" at the show.  Honest Injun.
• When it came time compile a list of my favorite songs of oh ten, Fang Island scored the year's top slot, with an unprecendented *four* songs in the Top 25.  Impressive!
• And, as befitting an album with so many fantastic songs, Fang Island's Fang Island topped my "Best Albums of 2010" list.   

Right on cue, this night's Fang Island set did not disappoint.  In fact, my only real complaint about the previous two times I'd seen them -- sour vocals -- seems to have been largely remedied.  And the larger Bowery stage allowed the three guitarists to bust out some hilariously over the top ARENA RAWK stage moves.  The setlist consted of most of Fang Island (YAY!), with few older ones and one new one thrown in... I was hoping they'd have six Andrew W.K.s come out to reprise his glorious operatic vocal coda from "Patterns on the Wall" but alas it wasn't to be... but even without that highly unlikely occurrence going down, this was one of the finest sets that I've seen all year. 

------

OK, dank-time.  I will try to get a post up about Saturday / Sunday / Monday's shows and goings on but I can't promise anything... heading to Costa Rica on Wednesday for what's sure to be the Douchiest Bachelor Party Ever With the Douchiest Group of Douches That Ever Douched.  Tuddd out.

 

Marnie Stern at Santos Party House, March 4th, 2011

[Photo by my buddy Devin taken at this show]

    [Fun evening, hence this post.]

    Oh, and yes, I snagged a saucy!

    Evening began early when I met my buddy Devin at GPT for some 32 ounce Bud Lights.  We continued to his place, where we drank some Four Loko while jammin' Motorhead (who we saw live last week).  Nothing terribly notable to report other than Devin spiking a half full pint glass of said Four Loko onto the floor of his apartment, which necessitated some intense clean-up what with all the broken glass and such.  Anyway.

    Took the L to First Ave and snagged some overpriced beers and some shitty fucking pizza along the way in alphabet city before heading over to the Goes Cube listening party for their new album, which I've of course already pre-ordered (obv).  Said listening party was held at the bar Idle Hands on Avenue B., which I believe at one point was called Midway, then after that shitloaf went sour became the gayly named Rehab.  Hung with Matt (bass) and Kenny (drums) from Goes Cube for awhile before heading out towards Santos.  [And yes, from what I heard, the new Goes Cube album sounds fucking vicious.  Go here for an awesome motherfucking mp3 from said album's leadoff track.]

    So we got into a cab heading towards Santos.  It turns out the cabbie is a total fucking nutjob, who enlightened us on the following topics:

• As recently as 3 years ago he had $30 million in the bank, due to wise real estate and art investing.
• He had numerous improbable stories about said supposed fortune.  Notably, he started talking about "tax shelters in the '80s" and he didn't know SHIT about off-shore tax shelters.  This fucking motherfucker was obviously either flat out lying (um, yeah), or he's REALLY bad with money.
• He fought in the Vietnam war.
• He apparently cares for a host of older relatives whose health is failing.  Since I basically do the same fucking thing, I bonded with him over this. 
• According to him, my friend and I are "a bunch of no good fucking punks."  Not sure what prompted said bitterness, but for fuck's sake, AGREED!!!
• He told Devin to "shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down" at least twice.
• Seemed like a dece guy otherwise. 

    Anyway, we wound up at Santos right before Tera Melos was to take the stage.  I'm not going to belabor this too much, but they were HORRIBLE.  Like imagine a blander, shittier version of Polvo (who are one of the most overrated bands ever IMHO) and you get the picture.  Plus the Santos 'crew' kept blaring their dumbass smoke machine, which made shit even shittier.  Borderline blacked out, we took this opportunity to go outside and roll / smoke a j.

    Marnie's set was pretty good.  Unfortch "The Crippled Jazzer" was marred by the fact that her guitar was totally fucking broken due to a mishap earlier in the week (as she explained) but she eventually switched to a black Tele and was able to stay in tune.  I'm on record as LOVING her newest album, so I was psyched to hear shit like "Her Confidence," "Absorb Those Numbers," and the set-closing (uh, I think) "For Ash" live.  And they clearly enjoyed playing to a captive hometown NYC crowd, which, from what I could tell, was made up of children most of whom were less than half my age.  In fact, I'm pretty much convinced that other than Marnie herself (who is 8 months older than I am), I was BY FUCKING FAR the oldest person in the room.  

    Post-show headed out to my place for some hardcore saucing.  NTS. 

    Oh, shit.  One last thing.  Coming out of a nitrous blackout to "La Villa Strangiato" is one of the world's finest pleasures.  Anyway, Tuddd out.

Tapes 'n Tapes at Music Hall of Williamsburg, February 4th, 2011

    [Above is the setlist I snagged after the show.  Yes, it's largely illegible, so scroll down if it be setlist ye seek.]

    First, watch this.

    Done?  Good!  Happy 2011, [insert ethnic slur here]s! 

    Just got back from tonight's Tapes 'n Tapes show.  Pretty stoned, very drunk, and just poured myself a(nother) quart of vodka / soda / splash 'o cran, so I'm not sure how coherent this post is going to wind up.  In other words, it's doubtful that I'm going to want to write much here, because I got places to go,  people to see, and things to do [all lies].  Just a few notes:

• I wasn't sure I was going to even make it into this show since the MHOW website said it was SOLD OUT before I left Long Island to come back to Williamsburg.  When I rolled up to the box office, however, it just so happened that they had *ONE* ticket left, which I bought the fuck out of.

• Third time I've seen this band live, and third time that they've had ABSOLUTELY INEXCUSABLY BAD concert sound.  First time I saw them live I bitched about the live sound; second time I saw them live I bitched about the sound, and this time around things were no better.  Drums and keyboard were WAY too loud; bass was overbearingly muddy and shitty sounding; guitar was practically inaudible.  What a fucking crock of shit. 
• These guys have been royally cornholed by Pitchfork since the initial honeymoon, and unfairly so.  Not on the same level as Black Kids, but face it, Black Kids were (are?  Do they still put out (awful) records?) a total joke, and compared to most of the absolute fucking garbage that the kids seem to be just gobbling up these days, Tapes 'n Tapes are fucking Led Zeppelin multiplied by the goddamn Beatles.  Despite them having fallen out of favor with the tastemakers, these guys still write some damn fine songs.  Like everyone else, I loved The Loon, but I've always thought Walk it Off had a bunch of good shit on there (though, admittedly, it was horrendously produced).  I'm kinda meh on the newest record (which came out last month), Outside; came into this show thinking there were only 3 good ones on the new one, but I liked a bunch more of the newer shit in the live setting than I expected I would have. 
• Another band that simply doesn't know what their own best songs are.  How these guys get off scot free without performing "The Iliad," "People You Know," "Time of Songs," "Headshock" and "Le Ruse" EVERY FUCKING NIGHT is beyond me.  
• "Jakov's Suite" is just a great show-ender.  Hopefully these guys will get big enough where they can actually afford to destroy all of their instruments at the end of every set while while "Jak"king off. 
• Wow, that pun was horrible.  Time for some nitrous, perhaps.  G'night, shit-eaters.

 

SETLIST [fwiw if I'm remembering correctly the set was a little over 80 minutes with the encore]:

Beach Girls [from the first independently released Tapes 'n Tapes EP, which I still haven't heard, hint hint]

Conquest

Just Drums

Demon Apple

10 Gallon Ascots

Hang Them All

Hidee Ho

Cowbell

Outro

One in the World

On and On

Lines

Omaha

Badaboom

The Dirty Dirty

Saddest of All Keys

Insistor

Manitoba

Freak Out

 

Encore:

Jakov's Suite

 

Crocodiles at Glasslands, September 24, 2010

    Snagged a SAUCY!!!

    WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

    So tonight began inauspiciously enough.  Having missed the Crocodiles' previous area appearance (at Mercury Lounge on Wednesday) due to my mom leaving a giant pile of needles on the floor and me stepping on said pile, thereby tearing a huge gash in my foot, I had low expectations for the evening.  A buddy of mine was supposed to come over and rock out to some Melvins bullshit as-per-uje while drinking beers and smoking bowls, but that didn't happen.  So I had little choice but to venture into the cruel, cold world and go to this bullshit show. 

    Before I left my apartment, I drank a forty of Colt 45 and a couple Coors tallbastardz, which had me in a miserable "FML" style mood.  Got to Glasslands during setbreak between the first band and the second band, and realized my pre-show worries were unfounded.  Said worries consisted of the following: "oh shit, one of those AnCo fudgepackers is DJing this show, so it's probably gonna be packed."  No, it wasn't.  

    Missed the first band entirely and the second band took for-fucking-ever to set up.  OK.  This is where this review becomes "hesitant."  Last time I saw a band anywhere near as bad as this band (and blog'd about it), it was the Beets.  And those crafty bastards got a MySpace quote out of that shit.  Seriously, check their MySpace on the left side of the page, under "sounds like."  I wrote that bad boy/yikes. 

    Not sure how else to put this... they were just <puking noise>.  To this point in my life, and I've seen literally hundreds upon hundreds of bands, I've always used Danielson as my measuring stick as far as "the worst band I've ever seen live," but FUCK THAT at least Danielson knew their parts.  This band encapsulated the absolute WORST of Brooklyn.  As much good as Todd P has spread, he really has to pay the motherfucking piper when it comes to encouraging terrible, faggoty, talentless, useless bands to take the stage before they even know how to tune their fucking instruments.  Bad art is, well, bad. 

    Anyway, this band had the typical Williamsburg bullshit going on.  They 1.) had no songs; 2.) had a stage filled with instruments that they had no idea how to play; 3.) said instruments included a bunch of homemade percussion bullshit and stupid cutesy ukelele nonsense presumably in order to make themselves seem "adorable," 4.) had a laptop computer pumping in backing tracks, without which they were totally lost; 5.) sucked ass big time (as if you couldn't tell that by my previous comments); 6.) took FOR FUCKING EVER between songs to retune their shitty sub-amateurish bullshit.  Anyway, as anyone who reads this blog (I'm lookin' at you, Bricer and Beafi) knows, I try my best to not talk too much shit about local shitty bands.  What's the point?  Nobody (ok, 3 people) reads this blog anyway, so it's not like I'm on some "cutting edge" of music reviewership.  But, in this instance (and I've thought this over for the last several hours), it would be simply irresponsible of me to not be this harsh. 

    As such, I was pretty fucking bitter.  I'm not pretending that I stuck around for their entire set.  Went outside to (dejectedly) smoke a butt.  A couple of mediocre hipster chicks were standing next to me, and I was ogling them something shameless, to the point where I was pretty close to warbling some half-assed bullshit in their general direction, but (while looking in my general direction) one of said hipster chicks said to the other, "you want to go sit across the street?"  The answer was a decided "yes," so it looks like I won't be hosting private after hours at my place tonight hahhhahahhahah.

    Stumbled back into Glasslands for what had to be my thousandth pissbreak.  I had read that since the last time I'd seen Crocodiles they'd gained a full backing band (last time I saw them in June '09 at Union Pool it was just the singer and guitarist jamming to a backing tape), so needless to say they took their sweet time setting up.  Whatever.  Drank a bunch more $4 Rolling Rock tall-boys and taxed some Jaeger during the interim.  

    Anyway, what to say about the Crocodiles set???  I love everything about this fucking band and I'm not afraid to say it.  According to iTunes, "I Wanna Kill" is my 4th most listened-to song ever [erm, since October 5th, 2008 when my computer crashed, rather], and that seems about right.  LOVE that song.  I've said this before and I'll say it again: if you don't get a fucking boner from that chorus, you can go fuck yourself. 

    OK.  About the Crocs' set.  I was pleased to see that singer Brandon Welchez still weighs about 80 pounds, because, face it, there's no fatties in hipsterville.  [*SOB*]  Plus newfound respect because I recently discovered that he's married to Kristin Gundred from Dum Dum Girls, who is both talented and super hot.  YOU GO, LO-FI GARAGE-POP SUPER COUPLE!!!  SMOOCHERS!!!!

    OK.  This is the third straight paragraph I've started with some variation of "so now I'm going to talk about the Crocs' set" and I'm finally determined to finally follow through here [third time's the charm].  But first, I have to describe their aesthetic: when I was trying to entice a buddy to see them earlier in the day, I described them as "Raveonettes without the hot chick," and, although that's an egregious oversimplification, due to Crocs/Raves mutual influences I'm okay with that description.  They started with a couple of OK-but-not-great ones from their new record before busting into some type of awesome segue (I think it was "Summer of Hate">"Hearts of Love," but I could be wrong).  They played several off the new album, including the fucking great "All My Hate and My Hexes Are For You" and "Mirrors," and closed the set with a triumphant "I Wanna Kill."  Fucking POIFECT. 

    Left the show with a big fucking smile on.  Still smiling at the time of this writing.  And that's what counts.  Tuddd out. 

Bouncing Souls at Music Hall of Williamsburg, September 12, 2010

Still trashed.  You know what that means - BULLET POINTZ

• not gonna lie, I'm pretty much a complete poser when it comes to Bouncing Souls.  A friend of mine gave me a DVD a few years ago which had a bunch of Bouncing Souls albums on it (and also a prized WIZO album, which is also lost to the ages).  Not gonna lie here- I know maybe one Bouncing Souls album pretty well, tops.  (I'm much more of a Bad Religion/Social D guy.)
• Third time seeing them live.  First time I saw them, I got the shit knocked out of me in the pit and wound up losing my shoe, only to have it handed back to me by a child less than half my age.  Second time I saw them was on LI at Crazy Donkey in Farmingdale.  At that show, I was troubled by the fact that The Crazy Donkey has an anchor-sized piece of fucking massive iron in the middle of the floor right in the middle of where a hypothetical "moshing pit" would potentially break out.
• [Careened painfully into said iron girder multiple times.]
• Spent most of Sunday "in."  Was terrified by a hideous screaming/belching/~135 dB noise coming from the dryer, considering that when I checked it, the rat bastard was white-hot to the touch.  Remember, my family's home has burned TWICE in the last 11 years.  Dodgy electrical appliances are SCARY!  
• My new roommate is AWESOME.  Tonight he actually apologized for "playing [his] vibraphone too loud when [he's] fuckin' trashed all the time," which I honestly haven't even noticed.  This is by FAR the best living situation I've had since college, and the thousands of legitimate complaints I had about my last place/etc. (atrocious in every possible way, except the roof, which was pretty great) seem to, um, not be at play here.  Unreal.  *JINX!*
• My bro Devin came over pre-show, and drank 2 1/2 pounders despite being on pretty hardcore antibiotics and steroids for a nasty sickness.  That's what one refers to as "the champion spirit."
• 3 out of 3 experts agree; "Skin Horse" by Melvins is the best song ever written by anybody.
• Hooked onto a decent buzz before we left.  Last time I didn't smoke weed before a show was in June.  Huh.
• We got to the venue late, about 5 minutes after Bouncing Souls had taken the stage.  After a much-needed pissbreak, headed upstairs, slammed another beer, and snuck up the raised area to the left side of the floor (I will from now on refer to this area as "the veranda," since I see like 85% of shows I go to at MHoW from this spot) and headed into the pit.  Last time I saw Bouncing Souls live the audience was pretty much split down the middle between late 20s/earl thirty-somethings and tweens straight off the Warped Tour, but this crowd was slanted more towards us oldsters.
• As soon as I was enpittrified I "live dialed in" my bro Dale on "Lean on Sheena." 
• Good, energetic crowd, but nothing too terrifying.  I was by FAR the largest person in the first 20 feet or so in front of the stage all night, not particularly close on that one.
• I always wind up strongly touched by the amount of effort that goes into scraping the wounded off the floor/helping folks that have fallen over.  Last time I saw Social Distortion at Roseland (date?), I held back a sizable section of crowd so a chick could find her contact.  This action was, um, reciprocated (?!) by a leather-clad biker dude who kissed me on the mouth.  Scouts honor/honest injun.
• Again, physically, although I wasn't exactly running around the fucking maypole (more on that later), I held my own and then some.  Got kicked and punched in the face countless times, but considering the extremes, nothing that bad.  Two worst injuries occurred for me when 1.) some guy wound up and kicked me straight in my left ankle knob; and 2.) another guy punted me square in the shin.  Other than that I think my worst pain tomorrow morning (cross fingers) will be my neck what with all the "head-banging" and such. 
• About this maypole: I think I have to say the first time I saw that was at said aforementioned Bouncing Souls show at Crazy Donkey: was mortified to see all the kids running around, counterclockwise, in a circle, all orderly-like, instead of beating the everloving shit out of each other.  Plenty of that tonight, but also plenty of pint-size jacked meatheads throwing elbows.  
• Again, I'm not that hugely familiar with Bouncing Souls material, but it's pretty obvious from the 3 shows I've seen that they've somehow co-opted the TMJ-inducing "oleeeee, oleee oleee oleeeeeee" thing from soccer.  I don't care what explanation there is for that; anyway you slice it, sorry, that's fucking gay. 
• A LOT of people wound up onstage.  The band seemed used to that shit though.  At one point the other big strongish dude that was upfront offered to boost me up onstage, but I bashfully dismissed all of that.
• Their set was ~an hour, and after a brief encore break there was a ~10 minute encore, complete with requests.  This meant that they really didn't have to let up on the caffeinated pop/punk pace of the set and the anthemic meatheadedness of the songs they chose to fill out the setlist.  They played a coupl'a (that's it, I think, literally about 2) slowish songs and a cover that many people didn't seem to know, but otherwise folks kept it real. 
• Good show, would go to see these guys pretty much any time they come around.  Who knows when that will be, but in the meantime I'm'a get cracking on familiarizing myself with some classic Bouncing Souls stuff.  Any suggestions?
• (Will be attending the upcoming Bad Religion/Social D shows/pretty stoked.)
• Vinnie's post-show, then bowls.  Fuckity Fuck Yeah.