Mixed Drinks. Mixed Feelings.
Every once and while God or something sends you an early warning to take it easy. It could come in many different forms, but on Friday night, it came in very clear and I didn’t take the hint. Maybe a new listening policy is in order.
Friday’s Are For Rock.
Early Friday evening Cami and I met for our new favorite activity, dinner at Festival. We managed to get the front window seat and despite the constant attack by the plants, we had a great time. It’s come to my attention that Cami now has the ability to bully me into a tequila shot, especially when we are at Festival. In fact, many people hold this ability, but I will elaborate on it later.
We walked the two quick blocks north to the Mercury Lounge because I wanted to catch the Mobius Band’s early set. It’s been awhile since I’ve arrived at the Mercury before the rest of the crowd. I’ve grown accustomed to the practice of getting off my futon and heading to the club five minutes before the act I’m going to see takes the stage. Friday was a bit different. We got drinks and headed to the back room which was empty besides one other patron. The floor looked strange. I’m used to a beer splattered, cup littered piece of wood, but tonight I caught a glimpse of a clean and bare room. Anyway, the three-piece from North Hampton took the stage and filled the room with aural delight. Their sound is much akin to Radiohead mixed with some Postal Service type percussion and blips. As they played their set, the room began to fill with familiar faces like Beach, Liz, Justin, Tumbleweed, Lucy, Daylen, Windskill, Sivan and Karen. After their set, I caught up with everyone. Then Cami and I thought it would be a good idea to jump over to 186 for a quick shot of Jack before Alaska! started their set.
This is the point where the higher power intervened and tried to send me the message to stay home and call it a night. Once we got back to my place, Cami proceeded to the kitchen while everything caught up with me and lead me to the bathroom where I emptied my stomach in homage to the almighty. The thing is that puking is something I’m all too familiar with. If you know me outside of the friendly settings of any bar, then you know that I have the weakest stomach this side of the Mississippi. You wouldn’t think it by looking at me and it rarely holds me back, but it’s true; I puke more than most Americans. So my incident on Friday was quickly written off, and we headed back to the club.
Oveis managed to find his way to the show and we had a couple drinks at the end of the bar while Alaska! finished their set. Next on the bill was Runner & the Thermodynamics. I was really excited to see these guys, not only because of all the good press they have received, but because Jordan, who is the guitar player in Demander with Karen and Sivan, is their manager. They took the stage and blasted out a set of powerful rock that was extremely playful. The best part about this band is that they really appear as though they enjoy being on stage together. They are light hearted guys who don’t take themselves too seriously. The songs are tight, but the only thing I could have asked for was more guitar solos. Karen thought this idea was crazy, and she absolutely dug these guys, but everyone is a critic (and some are dj’s – that’s a Hold Steady reference). Also, I can’t recall when my eyes have laid on a drummer who was that outrageous. He played with an intense fury matched by few. This cat played so hard that he broke his snare drum and had to borrow one from Mobius. Next chance you get, give them a shot.
Following the show, we strolled over to Oveis’ crib to finish up the booze from last weekend’s bash. There was so much there, that we hardly even dented it. Dan and I managed to shotgun a good 4 or 5 beers a piece which may have not been the best thing considering the battle I had earlier. To put the icing on top, I took some speed which kept me rolling till late night. Not a smart idea when you feel imminent sickness. Thankfully the party wound down by 3:30am which got me home at a decent hour.
Listen To Your Body. It Knows What Its Doing.
Once Saturday officially became Saturday, I began to realize something was gravely wrong with my health. Living in a constant state of denial is a bad way to fight a sickness. After Karen departed for practice, I went to meet Cami for brunch, but after she didn’t show, I quickly called Hawkins who was kind enough to meet me at Rue B. I’m lucky that guy didn’t bolt on me, especially with all my bitching, but he stuck it out and we managed to have a great brunch. It put me in better spirits, but I was still feeling the effects of last night, or so I thought.
After a late afternoon nap, Beach, Noah and Sean showed up for a few beers before Beach and I headed to Sin-e to catch Dirty On Purpose’s set. We ran into DTL and Jin at the show along with Nicole who was shooting the show for the band. Beach and I got PBR’s and set ourselves up in the back. During the set Builder called so I ran outside to take it. While talking I ran into Sarah (aka Ultragrrrl) who was Dj’ing the evening. We had a chat about all things Smith’s before heading back into the club. She told me that a fellow writer at Spin, Mark Spitz (not the swimmer), had taken a cup Morrissey used at a recent interview for her. She informed me that she is going to get his DNA from the cup and make herself some Moz babies. Good luck Sarah!
As we cruised back into the main room, DOP was playing through a couple of tracks off of their great 4-song Ep. If you haven’t heard this, pick one up as soon as possible. These five Brooklyn kids have a soothing sound that walks to the edge of rock, looks over and decides making the leap might not change things for the better. Their soft, trading vocalization is so pleasing to the ear that you could put them on repeat and drift off into dreamland. During the next change over, I ran into Dennis Cahlo who was due up third on the bill. He told me I clean up nice due to my jacket and collared shirt, and I informed him (with much disappointment) that I wouldn’t be able to stick around for his set.
I left the club to go meet up with Builder, Miriam, her friend Rob and Chris. We were planning to take the F train out to DUMBO in order to check out Mike Rothfeld’s work at a gallery, but much to our dismay, the F train was a bastard. We then decided to hop in Builder’s car in hopes of finding the joint despite Chris’s apprehension. We managed to find the space on Jay Street with little or no trouble. Walking into the gallery, one of the first things you notice is Mike’s work hanging on the sidewall. It is huge an impressive. This boy has the touch. Here is an example of the work he had on display and here is a link to his page incase you need some professional work done at a reasonable price.
We bolted from Brooklyn and were back in the city by 11pm. At this point my sickness had taken total control over me, but I forged ahead to Sofie’s in hopes of seeing the birthday girl for a single drink. To my added dismay she was not in the bar yet, so I said hello to all those in the joint, informed them I was under the weather and walked back home to catch some much needed sleep.
Peer Pressure Still Exists.
Sunday I woke up feeling as though hell had taken residence in my throat. I laid in bed until 12pm when Beach, Oveis and Builder congregated in the living room to figure out how to get to Elizabeth, New Jersey. This past week we had planned a trip to Chilis and Ikea, but at this point I was out. Close to an hour later, I decided I couldn’t miss out on a trip to a Jersey Mall to eat at Chilis.
We made it out to the restaurant by 2:00pm, and we were seated 10 minutes later. At this point we had gigantic margaritas with the exception of Oveis who was drinking a big beer. We were seated in the back of the establishment, where Evelyn, our lovely waitress could properly serve us. We started with a bunch of appetizers that included chips and salsa, an awesome blossom and boneless chicken wings. At this point Beach and I ordered another margarita. My margarita’s name was the El Nino. Let me tell you, it may have been a great storm, but it is definitely a better margarita. Those two things got me so buzzed. The highlight of my meal was the half rack of babyback ribs. They were delicious, and now I can understand Beach’s fanatic like affinity for Chilis. After paying the bill, it took little prying for Beach to convince me to top things off with a college size shot of tequila. This tequila thing is becoming a problem.
While Builder and Oveis were satisfying their sweet tooth, Beach and I unsuccessfully attempted to Culkin Oveis. I’m blaming this one on Beach, but a Culkin is a team effort and one player can’t lose it for the team. Anyway, we headed to Ikea in hopes of finding some gear for Johnny’s new apartment, but the sheer size of the place had everyone a little freaked out. If you haven’t been to the Ikea in Elizabeth yet, take a trip out there. It’s American consumerism at its finest. The illusion of choice has been extracted from the political realm and projected onto millions of products that allow us to think we have a actual role in deciding what we want. There must have been five to seven thousand people in that store, and it was all too much to handle. We failed miserably and didn’t manage to buy one thing.
Back in 186 Beach, Builder and I all passed out for a good hour. The nap was necessary after a day characterized by gorging. By 8pm I realized that my sickness was going to prevent me from seeing the season premiere of the Sopranos, so I hope someone can accommodate me this week when HBO airs it again. Luckily Karen came over to cheer me up and make me feel a bit better. I don’t know if she is certified, but she should be. I’m feeling much better today, and I’m owing it all to her.
News Update.
May 18th will be a huge day for many. Morrissey will break the silence and drop his new record.
When will Pete Doherty calm down? Hopefully never. Does he use Iggy as a model?
One Brit gets pissed at his own country's award shows. And who the hell is this band Busted. Should I even be calling them a band? I wonder if our pop culture is worse than theirs. Of course it is, but they take a close second.
To combat pirated copies of the event, Live Aid organizers have decided to release the 1985 concert on DVD by this Christmas. It will feature acts like U2, Queen, Bowie and Dylan.
The Liars have a sit down with Junkmedia and attempt to explain the direction of their new record.
If I didn't have enough reasons to move to London, here is one more.
Pitchfork gets critical of TV on the Radio's debut full-length, but come on now, its their debut. You can't compare them to an Ep that was put out in their infancy as a group.
AFI has cancels their spring tour due to a vocal chord injury to their lead singer Davey Havok. Who couldn't see this coming? This guy screams more than Flanders.
If you are bored today or any day, check out Ricky's explanations of the slang used in the hit BBC comedy, the Office.
It's about time I bought their fucking record. Especially when James Mercer highly recommended it. I know I say this a lot, but I'll never forget the time we saw them at Hank's with the Black Lipstick and was totally blown away.
Gagging scientists will not help the environment. The U.K.'s top scientist is ordered to limit his contact with the media after reporting that Global Warming is more serious than the threat of terrorism. This is one of the many reason's I will never have a kid.
This link was pulled off of Gawker. Check out Sean Lennon's list of recent fame ridden conquests. I love the last line of this column. Is he still in Dopo Yume? What a dork.
Finally, at Oveis' request, read this Op-Ed piece from yesterday's Times. It will get you more comfortable with the idea of John Kerry being our next president. He loves great films, better poets and rock.
Today's Ipod mix included: Nothing! My Ipod is a piece of shit right now. I'm very close to using it as a hockey puck.
Every once and while God or something sends you an early warning to take it easy. It could come in many different forms, but on Friday night, it came in very clear and I didn’t take the hint. Maybe a new listening policy is in order.
Friday’s Are For Rock.
Early Friday evening Cami and I met for our new favorite activity, dinner at Festival. We managed to get the front window seat and despite the constant attack by the plants, we had a great time. It’s come to my attention that Cami now has the ability to bully me into a tequila shot, especially when we are at Festival. In fact, many people hold this ability, but I will elaborate on it later.
We walked the two quick blocks north to the Mercury Lounge because I wanted to catch the Mobius Band’s early set. It’s been awhile since I’ve arrived at the Mercury before the rest of the crowd. I’ve grown accustomed to the practice of getting off my futon and heading to the club five minutes before the act I’m going to see takes the stage. Friday was a bit different. We got drinks and headed to the back room which was empty besides one other patron. The floor looked strange. I’m used to a beer splattered, cup littered piece of wood, but tonight I caught a glimpse of a clean and bare room. Anyway, the three-piece from North Hampton took the stage and filled the room with aural delight. Their sound is much akin to Radiohead mixed with some Postal Service type percussion and blips. As they played their set, the room began to fill with familiar faces like Beach, Liz, Justin, Tumbleweed, Lucy, Daylen, Windskill, Sivan and Karen. After their set, I caught up with everyone. Then Cami and I thought it would be a good idea to jump over to 186 for a quick shot of Jack before Alaska! started their set.
This is the point where the higher power intervened and tried to send me the message to stay home and call it a night. Once we got back to my place, Cami proceeded to the kitchen while everything caught up with me and lead me to the bathroom where I emptied my stomach in homage to the almighty. The thing is that puking is something I’m all too familiar with. If you know me outside of the friendly settings of any bar, then you know that I have the weakest stomach this side of the Mississippi. You wouldn’t think it by looking at me and it rarely holds me back, but it’s true; I puke more than most Americans. So my incident on Friday was quickly written off, and we headed back to the club.
Oveis managed to find his way to the show and we had a couple drinks at the end of the bar while Alaska! finished their set. Next on the bill was Runner & the Thermodynamics. I was really excited to see these guys, not only because of all the good press they have received, but because Jordan, who is the guitar player in Demander with Karen and Sivan, is their manager. They took the stage and blasted out a set of powerful rock that was extremely playful. The best part about this band is that they really appear as though they enjoy being on stage together. They are light hearted guys who don’t take themselves too seriously. The songs are tight, but the only thing I could have asked for was more guitar solos. Karen thought this idea was crazy, and she absolutely dug these guys, but everyone is a critic (and some are dj’s – that’s a Hold Steady reference). Also, I can’t recall when my eyes have laid on a drummer who was that outrageous. He played with an intense fury matched by few. This cat played so hard that he broke his snare drum and had to borrow one from Mobius. Next chance you get, give them a shot.
Following the show, we strolled over to Oveis’ crib to finish up the booze from last weekend’s bash. There was so much there, that we hardly even dented it. Dan and I managed to shotgun a good 4 or 5 beers a piece which may have not been the best thing considering the battle I had earlier. To put the icing on top, I took some speed which kept me rolling till late night. Not a smart idea when you feel imminent sickness. Thankfully the party wound down by 3:30am which got me home at a decent hour.
Listen To Your Body. It Knows What Its Doing.
Once Saturday officially became Saturday, I began to realize something was gravely wrong with my health. Living in a constant state of denial is a bad way to fight a sickness. After Karen departed for practice, I went to meet Cami for brunch, but after she didn’t show, I quickly called Hawkins who was kind enough to meet me at Rue B. I’m lucky that guy didn’t bolt on me, especially with all my bitching, but he stuck it out and we managed to have a great brunch. It put me in better spirits, but I was still feeling the effects of last night, or so I thought.
After a late afternoon nap, Beach, Noah and Sean showed up for a few beers before Beach and I headed to Sin-e to catch Dirty On Purpose’s set. We ran into DTL and Jin at the show along with Nicole who was shooting the show for the band. Beach and I got PBR’s and set ourselves up in the back. During the set Builder called so I ran outside to take it. While talking I ran into Sarah (aka Ultragrrrl) who was Dj’ing the evening. We had a chat about all things Smith’s before heading back into the club. She told me that a fellow writer at Spin, Mark Spitz (not the swimmer), had taken a cup Morrissey used at a recent interview for her. She informed me that she is going to get his DNA from the cup and make herself some Moz babies. Good luck Sarah!
As we cruised back into the main room, DOP was playing through a couple of tracks off of their great 4-song Ep. If you haven’t heard this, pick one up as soon as possible. These five Brooklyn kids have a soothing sound that walks to the edge of rock, looks over and decides making the leap might not change things for the better. Their soft, trading vocalization is so pleasing to the ear that you could put them on repeat and drift off into dreamland. During the next change over, I ran into Dennis Cahlo who was due up third on the bill. He told me I clean up nice due to my jacket and collared shirt, and I informed him (with much disappointment) that I wouldn’t be able to stick around for his set.
I left the club to go meet up with Builder, Miriam, her friend Rob and Chris. We were planning to take the F train out to DUMBO in order to check out Mike Rothfeld’s work at a gallery, but much to our dismay, the F train was a bastard. We then decided to hop in Builder’s car in hopes of finding the joint despite Chris’s apprehension. We managed to find the space on Jay Street with little or no trouble. Walking into the gallery, one of the first things you notice is Mike’s work hanging on the sidewall. It is huge an impressive. This boy has the touch. Here is an example of the work he had on display and here is a link to his page incase you need some professional work done at a reasonable price.
We bolted from Brooklyn and were back in the city by 11pm. At this point my sickness had taken total control over me, but I forged ahead to Sofie’s in hopes of seeing the birthday girl for a single drink. To my added dismay she was not in the bar yet, so I said hello to all those in the joint, informed them I was under the weather and walked back home to catch some much needed sleep.
Peer Pressure Still Exists.
Sunday I woke up feeling as though hell had taken residence in my throat. I laid in bed until 12pm when Beach, Oveis and Builder congregated in the living room to figure out how to get to Elizabeth, New Jersey. This past week we had planned a trip to Chilis and Ikea, but at this point I was out. Close to an hour later, I decided I couldn’t miss out on a trip to a Jersey Mall to eat at Chilis.
We made it out to the restaurant by 2:00pm, and we were seated 10 minutes later. At this point we had gigantic margaritas with the exception of Oveis who was drinking a big beer. We were seated in the back of the establishment, where Evelyn, our lovely waitress could properly serve us. We started with a bunch of appetizers that included chips and salsa, an awesome blossom and boneless chicken wings. At this point Beach and I ordered another margarita. My margarita’s name was the El Nino. Let me tell you, it may have been a great storm, but it is definitely a better margarita. Those two things got me so buzzed. The highlight of my meal was the half rack of babyback ribs. They were delicious, and now I can understand Beach’s fanatic like affinity for Chilis. After paying the bill, it took little prying for Beach to convince me to top things off with a college size shot of tequila. This tequila thing is becoming a problem.
While Builder and Oveis were satisfying their sweet tooth, Beach and I unsuccessfully attempted to Culkin Oveis. I’m blaming this one on Beach, but a Culkin is a team effort and one player can’t lose it for the team. Anyway, we headed to Ikea in hopes of finding some gear for Johnny’s new apartment, but the sheer size of the place had everyone a little freaked out. If you haven’t been to the Ikea in Elizabeth yet, take a trip out there. It’s American consumerism at its finest. The illusion of choice has been extracted from the political realm and projected onto millions of products that allow us to think we have a actual role in deciding what we want. There must have been five to seven thousand people in that store, and it was all too much to handle. We failed miserably and didn’t manage to buy one thing.
Back in 186 Beach, Builder and I all passed out for a good hour. The nap was necessary after a day characterized by gorging. By 8pm I realized that my sickness was going to prevent me from seeing the season premiere of the Sopranos, so I hope someone can accommodate me this week when HBO airs it again. Luckily Karen came over to cheer me up and make me feel a bit better. I don’t know if she is certified, but she should be. I’m feeling much better today, and I’m owing it all to her.
News Update.
May 18th will be a huge day for many. Morrissey will break the silence and drop his new record.
When will Pete Doherty calm down? Hopefully never. Does he use Iggy as a model?
One Brit gets pissed at his own country's award shows. And who the hell is this band Busted. Should I even be calling them a band? I wonder if our pop culture is worse than theirs. Of course it is, but they take a close second.
To combat pirated copies of the event, Live Aid organizers have decided to release the 1985 concert on DVD by this Christmas. It will feature acts like U2, Queen, Bowie and Dylan.
The Liars have a sit down with Junkmedia and attempt to explain the direction of their new record.
If I didn't have enough reasons to move to London, here is one more.
Pitchfork gets critical of TV on the Radio's debut full-length, but come on now, its their debut. You can't compare them to an Ep that was put out in their infancy as a group.
AFI has cancels their spring tour due to a vocal chord injury to their lead singer Davey Havok. Who couldn't see this coming? This guy screams more than Flanders.
If you are bored today or any day, check out Ricky's explanations of the slang used in the hit BBC comedy, the Office.
It's about time I bought their fucking record. Especially when James Mercer highly recommended it. I know I say this a lot, but I'll never forget the time we saw them at Hank's with the Black Lipstick and was totally blown away.
Gagging scientists will not help the environment. The U.K.'s top scientist is ordered to limit his contact with the media after reporting that Global Warming is more serious than the threat of terrorism. This is one of the many reason's I will never have a kid.
This link was pulled off of Gawker. Check out Sean Lennon's list of recent fame ridden conquests. I love the last line of this column. Is he still in Dopo Yume? What a dork.
Finally, at Oveis' request, read this Op-Ed piece from yesterday's Times. It will get you more comfortable with the idea of John Kerry being our next president. He loves great films, better poets and rock.
Today's Ipod mix included: Nothing! My Ipod is a piece of shit right now. I'm very close to using it as a hockey puck.
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