Last night I fell in love a total of three times, but before I go on to explain everyone should try this (no pun intended) kick ass game Mike emailed me. Here is your one and only chance to Drop Kick The Faint. Channel your inner punk and kick the shit out of the synth revivalists. Also, I haven’t seen this clip in awhile, but Hawkins just dropped it in my inbox and Mr. Nervous Pants is hilarious. And a quick sports note; since football season is over, my attention shifts to basketball. This is rightful retribution for the time they beat us on a last minute field goal the week after we upset Florida State and were championship hopefuls.
My evening began with a bunch of running around that started at the Apple Store in SoHo. Mike needed some flyers and buttons to help promote for this weekend’s party so naturally I obliged. Then the plan was to stop by Luna to drop off a few flyers, but they had yet to open. A pit stop cheeseburger later, and I was on my way to the Bowery to give Noah and Frank a few flyers. It’s worth noting that Merida was getting set for a night behind the bar, (are you happy now?). Merida tends to bust my balls more than anyone about this blog. Those conversations are borderline ridiculous, but more than welcome. It’s nice to know someone is keeping you in check even if they aren’t being serious. The final stop was a 7:30pm meet up with Cami at Max Fish for a drink. We haven’t hung out in ages so it was nice to shoot some pool and sip a beer with her before the bar had a chance to get packed.
By 8:30pm I was back on the street and rounding the corner for the Mercury Lounge. My first walk through didn’t yield any fellow monkeys, but I received a phone call from Dana and she was right outside the venue. We hung out for a good 10 minutes shooting the shit while I tried to convince her to come into the club. Andy walked up to the club set to be out seeing his friends in Go To Town. She politely deferred my invitation, and as The Redwalls began their set, I crept back inside only to be met by Beach who was hanging at the front door. We grabbed fresh drinks and slid to the back corner to see what Capitol Records might have seen in these young chaps from Illinois. At first glance The Redwalls looked like a bunch of peacocks taking the piss out of the late 6T’s English style. They have a distinctive mod look covering up frames smaller than the last shit I took. They have enough sass and style to make Andrew Loog Oldham drool in delight. Much like Oldham’s discovery of The Stones and eventual shaping of their image, The Redwalls seem to be leaning on the potential between their adolescence and superstardom.
Not to jump the gun and equate the four cocksure kids to one of the biggest rock bands of all time, but these kids certainly take their cue from 1966 London. It’s rock and roll inspired by R&B and Soul. They play traditional classic rock that nods to greats like The Faces, The Beatles, The Band and The Small Faces. Don’t consider them another carbon copy. The Redwalls get away with wearing these influences on their sleeves by keeping the music pure through a focus on sweet vocal harmonies and energetic guitar riffs. As the front three members of the band took turns singing lead, they would antagonize the crowd wanting a response equal to the force they projected. Luckily they weren’t too dejected when the crowd didn’t reciprocate in full fashion. The bassist simply cried out, “New York; always too cool for school,” before ripping into their next tune.
After the set, Builder, Rob and I hustled back to 186 to drop of bags and pick up Kyle. Mr. Mud was super pumped up for the show. He is a massive Big Sleep fan. We got back to the club in time to catch half of Go To Town’s set. While standing in the back and shooting the shit with Denise (Happy Birthday D!) and Clint, I became transfixed by the four-piece. Andy told me they have shifted their sound around along with their guitarist, but what they settled on is the post-punk New York dance sound. The guitar player has some serious ability with his six strings, and he flashed undertones of Dick Dale while the rhythm section threw down tasty lines. Clint was smitten for the bass player, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the lead singer. She had one of those voices that drew me into and refused to let go. She also plays guitar and throws in some super sexy hand claps. Don’t be surprised if my fan status reaches groupie, (I should be so lucky).
During change over more familiar faces joined the crowd. Lucy and Tumblehawk came by at Good Times suggestion while Miriam came in to hang with the Jew. The redhead gay was on a mission to get shithoused so he did the obvious move; hung out with Greg (his boss) and Ian (his coworker). It was also nice to put a face to the name Jeff who, like Clint, plays in local favorite PS.
As the night pressed on, the room grew empty which was quite a disappointment since The Big Sleep have great potential. From the instant they started their show, more people emptied out of the backroom all with the same, ‘this is way to loud,’ look on their face. Noise rock is superb, especially when played loud, and I challenge anyone to a duel if they think otherwise. The band took a few songs to get into full swing, but once that point was reached it was on in head banging good fashion. Sonya, the bass player who also plays a lot of keys, used to hit the ivory for The Hong Kong. This drastic change in sound seems to fit her well as she constructs serious rhythmic grooves with Gabe, their no fuss drummer. The towering noise coming from Danny’s guitar caused the audience to shift with its vibration. His vocals had so much reverb on them it sounded like he was singing from the depths of a cave. The rhythm section was at his disposal as he wailed away on his ax and a key board slash mixer rig that created awesome electronic beats. The last time I saw these guys, there was a lot more blues guitar dousing their songs, but last night felt more like a mix of ambient noise and straight up Jimmy Page rock. Either way, I was impressed by both shows and still highly recommend The Big Sleep.
It’s worth noting that before their last song, this dialogue went on between Sonya, Kyle and Ian. Maybe Kyle was trying to stall them for Beach, but in any event he started shouting. In the sparsely populated back room this incident was both humorous and embarrassing all at once:
Kyle: OVEIS! (twice)
Sonya: What does that mean?
Kyle: You know what it means.
Ian: No Kyle, we don’t. What does it mean asshole?
Kyle: Fuck Pittsburgh!
As they finished their set, a disappointed Beach returned with Daylen and Machia in tow. The night was just getting started, but I had to call it quits. Lately I’ve been tired like a heroin addict with mono so my only choice was to return to 186 for some shuteye.
7 Comments:
the faint may rule, but this game really fucking rules
yes, yes it does. i love the faint... but i also love kicking them.
BC is a paper tiger on a good day. The Cuse will have their way with them on the basketball court, very much the way we made the Eagles our bitches when they had the opportunity to gain a BCS birth this past fall.
What a joke they are.
rrramie
my coworker may come after you ramie. i suggest you go into hiding. she hearts the eagles.
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