Well, hello there. It's been forever, I know, but really who the fuck cares. I basically stopped adding new content to the blog around the time when I stopped going to live shows for a few weeks there. Last one I saw was Witch at Luna Lounge in early November, which was super fucking disappointing-- they didn't even play "Rip Van Winkle" in spite of me vainly screaming for it all night. And sorry, the new songs sounded tossed off and weak. Just meh.
It's not that nothing's happened in the last month or so -- the new business is doing really well (just got recently incorporated and set up my corporate bank account today). Plus I had a birthday, which was celebrated in the same general way I have for the last few years: publicly humiliating myself at Benihanas then doing giant piles of blow. Not to mention the new haircut. And Thanksgiving was utterly lovely. So yeah, stuff's happening, just nothing worth blogging about. Not to mention that tonight I was going to see Kinski at Europa but forgot that it was an early show (first band goes on at 7:30? WTF?), so I'm home alone with a full coffee... when better to get back into the blog, eh?
So last night I finally decided that enough is enough and why the fuck not get out and see Goes Cube again. I've sung these guys' praises before, and with the amount of NYC area gigs these guys pull off you gotta believe that yer not going to be disappointed in their set. Indeed.
Got into Brooklyn fairly quickly and found parking right off Meeker. Opening act Michael Leviton (and band) treated the small audience (about 20 people total were in the room at this point) to a loose, low-key set of catchy surf instrumentals. He remarked early on during the set that the band had only practiced together once prior to this show, and although they certainly weren't the most cohesive outfit around, the performance certainly matched the charmingly informal setting of the room itself, which listed the maximum occupancy as 74. A pleasant way to start the evening, once again proudly displaying Goes Cube's propensity for pulling off playing on bills with bands that sound absolutely nothing like they do.
The seeming randomness of the evening's bill continued with the second act, The Jones St. Boys, whose instrumentation alone set them apart from your typical Brooklyn bill-filler. Electric mandolin, harmonica, banjo and accordion (though not all at the same time) filled out their folksy, good timey roots and roll tunes. Bonus points for their presentation, as well: they were clearly enjoying getting up onstage, making goofy jokes and interacting with the crowd (Bill Monroe or William Mastodon?), drinking shitloads of bourbon, and rocking out. Musically, their two greatest assets are some genuinely kickass harmonica playing and the fact that electric mandolin sounds like heaven. Did the ballads occasionally veer off into Pat McGee Band territory? Perhaps, but the instrumental breakdowns -- with the set's highlight being some insanely flash-fingered mandolin playing -- more than made up for it. Good luck to these guys on their upcoming Midwestern jaunt. I fuckin' dug 'em.
Goes Cube was up next and hot damn are these guys a powerhouse. Again I'm going to throw the obvious Helmet comparison out there, although their incorporation of feeback-related trickery and assorted squeaks and squeals adds a welcome element to the pummeling and thrashing of their riffs. And again, I just fucking love the bassist's tone. As their set was beginning, proffered was a cup containing scraps of paper, each piece with a number written on it. Since all Goes Cube songs are named with a number (i.e. "Goes Cube Song 35" or whatever), the guitarist announced "this is our setlist" and throughout the set encouraged crowdmembers to pick from the cup. Nice touch, no?
Towards the end of the set, pretty much everyone in the room was shitfaced except me (boo hoo), and at one point the harmonica dude/singer from Jones St. Boys spilled his beer all over my shirt. Normally, no cause for concern, but on this night I had a pocket full of.... well, let's just say you don't want to get beer on it. Due to the miracle of tiny plastic baggies, no big whoop, but nonetheless the dude apologized profusely, mentioning that he appreciated that I had stuck around for the whole show. Very, very cool. Just makes me wish I lived in Brooklyn so I could've gotten hammered along with the rest of the room. Sigh.
Lots of shows coming up. Baroness tomorrow night, Pissed Jeans Sunday, and a *free* show by Cheeseburger Monday at Knitting Factory.
That's it for me. I'm'a go smoke weed in my car. Peace.