Editors Note: The first portion of this post was written last night. Hence me being in bed. Right now my sorry ass is at work.
Wow, this is almost surreal. I’m currently bunked up on my bed, laptop in tow along with some iTunes keeping me company. A strange peace has entered the room. Could it be my improving financial situation? Could it be the night of big rock I’ve got ahead of me? It’s probably just the knifer Kyle served up to me before heading to dinner with Jack, Ryan, Builder and Noah. We ate at Croxley’s Ale House (this sounds like a broken record) and I’m a bit buzzed and definitely psyched to see Sam Champion and the Libertines this evening. Let’s back track for a minute before the evening prohibits my ability any more than it already has.
So I haven’t gotten cocked up in a good while. You must think I’m lying because of all the escapades at 186 and the various local establishments we frequent, but to be honest I haven’t talked with my good friend bender for quite some time. Spare me the comments about how a bender is a real commitment because in my mind a good bender can last only 48 hours if needed. The only necessity for said bender is booze and a willingness to go as far as possible. This weekend the belief in that characteristic of a bender guided my slow hand to Odessa.
It was Friday night and Chris Jacobson was celebrating his 24th birthday. We rolled into the diner made bar around midnight, but they had yet to turn down the lights and even though it didn’t feel like a high school cafeteria for indie rock kids, it sure looked like it. Douglas, our LA buddy, was in town after his short stint with a hippie band that shall remain nameless, (what was to be their final gig was actually one big wookiefied mess). Doug aka The Dogger always has some hilarious stories to pull out at the most inappropriate of times. He is a funny fucker. Anyway all the kids were in house and we managed to get quite proper as the evening progressed. Let me just say that TW may be one of the funniest kids I know. It was great that Tony and Anoush joined us for a lowbrow night of fucking about.
By 2 or 3am Doug and I had enough. Our veins were full of the sweet nectar and we needed sleep, (especially after some kids run around shoving candy in your mouth). Upon arriving at 186 we found a bunch of surly drunks at the house. By a bunch I mean a pair. By a pair I mean Builder and Beach. After some discussion we decided to head back to the Mercury Lounge for a drink. As the night came to a close, I remember struggling through a Michelle poured (read strong) vodka tonic. I was fucked and Doug wasn’t doing so hot either so we threw in the towel.
The next day everyone seemed to be puking. Friday had reared its ugly head on a small group of kids in the L.E.S. Dogger woke up in 186 and did an immediate heave. Poor little Hawkins was out of commission all day due to his insane drink consumption the previous evening. In any event, Dogger and I made it to the General Store for some breakfast. While I mowed through a BLT Dogger filled my head with stories of life in LA and his full proof plan to sleep with the Olsen twins. Trust me, its air tight and by the end of their first semester I’ll have two girlfriends.
After a stop at Hawkins to pick up the car, we went back to 186 to hang for a bit before Dogger skipped back to the West Coast for blowjobs and gambling. Dan, Erin, Cami and Louis made their way to the apartment. We saw Douglas off and then headed to Randall’s Island for Little Steven’s International Garage Rock Dealie. We managed to get into the parking lot with little problems, but I fucked up and forgot a couple of the tickets so we flew back down the FDR.
My boo-boo made us a little late, but it didn’t really matter. After getting bitched at by the guest list keeper, I managed to score a couple more tickets for the crew. I ran into Audra on the way in who was psyched to see Iggy later. We found our way to the back of the crowd and settled in for some extremely loud rock and some extremely poor MC’s, (why didn’t someone take the microphone from Kim Fowley?). I ran into Brandon who was looking the part of a rockstar festival attendee. His crew was getting rowdy which provided some entertainment for the non-drinkers.
The D4 had just finished their set, but the stage wasn’t rotating. Apparently it broke earlier in the day which made the event even more of a production nightmare. The Romantics hit the stage and plowed through a few songs including What I Like About You. This was the flow for most of the day which was great because even if an artist was kind of boring (read: Big Star) you wouldn’t have to suffer through a full set. The Dictators were as hilarious as expected. Little Steven announced them saying they were the bridge from rock to punk, but I think they were the bridge from punk to metal. They had Iron Maiden like guitar solos strewn about their punk anthems. Nancy Sinatra played with Conan O’Brien’s horn section. Yes, she played Boots, but not until she played two new songs. They were both horrible. The first was written by Morrissey and the second was written by Thurston Moore. Shite. Complete Shite. She needs to stick to the Go-Go sounds. Leave the dark indie rock to Interpol. But if you are wondering, yes, I would still have sex with Nancy. I’d be fucking a Sinatra.
Moving on. Big Star played next and as stated earlier, they were the biggest disappointment of the day. Stay retired Big Star. Bo Diddley played some great blues on his box guitar. He also rapped. That’s right kids, Bo knows hip-hop. It was a desperate attempt to update himself, but he should keep to his bread and butter. Don’t destroy the legend Bo. Then the biggest travesty of the day took place. The Raveonettes played two songs and they sounded like garbage. I don’t know the reasoning behind the short set, but immediately following their Kmart commercial single, Sharin unplugged and stormed off the stage.
At this point we caught up with Noah, Brian, Del, Allie and Kyle who joined the crew for the Pretty Things set. Since I can’t come up with anything to say about their set, all I want to note is that it was anything but pretty. They did provide some good entertainment. When the guitarist was shown on the big screen singing back up vocals that were limited to the word LSD, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Enough with this other bands, I was ready for the main events.
David Johansen may be a hideous specimen at this point of his life, but he can still bring the rock. Sylvain Sylvain can also wield his ax like he used too. Though the screws were definitely loose, they still played a great set with hits like Trash and Personality Crisis. I’m psyched to have them on my roster of seen shows, but they shouldn’t consider reformation for a comeback tour. It could be painful. The Strokes were up next and to be honest I’ve heard better, but I don’t want to seem like a hater. Let’s make this clear. I fucking love the Strokes, but last Saturday they felt a little out of sorts. The guitars seemed like they were dropping off and picking up at awkward moments. The redeeming quality to their set was Julian. That kid is a rock star. He is developing an on stage persona that could develop to Iggy status minus the self mutilation. The kid didn’t want to be there. Some of the fans didn’t want to see him. But he sung his guts out and kept us smiling with his banter about the hurricane. My biggest gripe is that they neglected to play The End Has No End.
After the Strokes cleared the stage it was all about Iggy. Outside of a gorgeous girl with a short haircut and an Expos t-shirt (if you are out there, email me because I’m in love, L-U-V), my eyes couldn’t be pealed from Iggy. The Asheton bothers and Mike Watt (who played furious bass and had a swashbuckler moustache) managed to steal a glance or two, but Iggy was the show. The man has the moves. The man has the attitude. The man has the look. He is god of everything awesome about punk rock and its offspring. They played hits like 1969, No Fun and Be Your Dog (twice!). It was a fantastic experience. He should take that show on the road, but first, Asheton brothers, please let up and play some songs off of Raw Power because it will save our souls.
My personal highlight of the entire festival was seeing Kyle launch himself off The Stooges drum riser then proceeding to dance around with the kids on stage during No Fun. He is a fucking star.
Saturday ended where it started. Dan, Kyle, Erin, Dee and I hung out at 186 getting all sorts of fucked up. The bender has continued. I’ll explain more tonight.
4 Comments:
JJJay, do you know the line up for the new york dolls that played on sat night or where I can find this info. Thanks... slutty stephen
i am sitting in athens with my laptop, and i'm completely fucked and haven't slept in days. this place is insane. how fucking sweet is it that i can get on my computer on a street corner in greece and access this blog wirelessly? i fucking stink so bad you wouldn't believe it. i just have no idea how i'm gonna meet my buddies who are here. i've been on six flights in four days and i think i'll have no place to sleep tonight, sweet. scat turdly
steve-O, I don't know the line up. I'd just google it. in fact I just did and I can't find it anywhere. I googled "new york dolls" and "little steven" and sifted through a wealth of info to no avail. Good luck, let me know if you find it.
Scat. you are in athens? go hang out with the beach vollyball teams. they are pretty sweet. good luck finding lodging.
JJJay, THanks for taking time to look. I did the same searcha s you with the same outcome...oh well if I find it I let you know....Thanks again. STephen
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