I Knew You Knew I Liked You.
Being extremely hung-over at work sucks a giant dick. The 24oz of coffee I just ingested isn't clearing the hazy cloud that is lingering over me. Some people will give me shit because I did manage to get to bed by 1am, but let me say this; I was shit-hammered, but with good reason. Please bear with this post as it's sure to be a jumbled mess of mixed-up, incomplete thoughts.
Last night began with trim a la Jacob. Having a solid guy who does house call haircuts is worth its weight in tacos. Lets forget the fact that after every haircut I look 12 years old again, (not his fault, I have what some might call a baby face). Around 7pm I headed over to the Mercury to meet Captain Carbomb for dinner. I managed to hang around the box office and convince a lady to buy Kaiser Chiefs tickets instead of The Bravery. Kristen didn't appreciate my sentiment, but I meant well. Eventually Johnny Too Bad came down, and we headed to Paladar for a pair of their unbelievable Cuban sandwiches.
After the meal, I rolled over to Elizabeth Street to meet Liz before stopping by the Something In the Way launch party at Groupe. It was such a fashionista fuckfest at this place, (I wish Sean Bones was there because his commentary would have been outlandish). The magazine is some Vice / Fader off shoot, but I didn't manage to pick-up or even see a copy so that's all I know. We met Hawkins, Builder and Miriam in the back and fought our way to the free Bacardi. They were making fancy pants drinks with special rum that tasted like candy. Liz and I took up space by the DJ tables, had a few drinks and then walked on.
Destination number two was The Mercury Lounge. We were greeted by Enrique, Daylen and Beana, but our hellos were quick as I wanted to check out Tralala, (formerly Tight Fit). Upon first glance, anything with a dick will be drawn to this band. It is fronted by four completely gorgeous ladies who share singing duties. Backing them up on the guitar/bass/drums are three guys who I quickly forgot, (despite their incredibly catchy rock songs). They reminded me of a dirty pop rock band fronted by 30% Ronnettes and 70% Runaways with a splash of the Slits for good measure. Unfortunately I had a difficult time listening to the band because my mind was on complete overload. I couldn't seem to choose which girl was the cutest, but eventually I decided on the girl dressed like a tennis player. Though Liz didn't agree, I'm sticking with my decision.
After the band, Beach and I stepped outside to discuss some important business. We ran into Howerton, Rich and Rich's lady (I'm terrible with names). After the cool down we stepped back inside and waited for the guest of honor. Amusement Parks on Fire took the stage and (thanks to Mark) were a lot better than Saturday night. They were playing at an audible level that didn't give me a migraine. I was only able to catch a couple songs because Warrior Perry showed up and tequila was instantly consumed. If you don't know the Warrior by now, he is a top notch shithead who was brought into my life via Enrique. The kid has been overseas for five months traveling the world with his lady friend. I'm psyched to have the crazy bastard back in the 212. After a quick catch up session, Liz and I hoped a cab with the hopes of catching a bit of The Double at the Knit.
A bit is exactly what we got. I think we saw one song, but I couldn't tell you. Inebriation and excitement for The Ponys had my mind wondering. Between sets we stepped outside to catch some air and we ran into Michael from We Are Scientists, (Check them out at Galapagos on June 2). Then Beach, Daylen and Mr. Warrior showed up and we slid back inside for PBRs and rock n' roll.
The past couple times I've caught a Ponys show, I wasn't impressed, (probably because they opened for Bloc Party). Last night's gig renewed my love for the Chicago four-piece. They killed it and that's not just the booze talking, (did I mention I was capital 'W' – wasted at this point). They played a decent mix of songs from both records and even graced us with an encore. The new guitar player has found his groove, and they are once again playing like a cohesive unit. The lead singer has crazy stage presence. He has the look and voice of Voidoids era Richard Hell, (it's an obvious comparison, but I'm making it). The Ponys sound like they locked themselves in a LES apartment in 1978 and reemerged yesterday simply to play a show. Fortunately someone slid a Folk Implosion record under their door so they could expand on the straight rock of the late 70's. My only complaint is that their set felt entirely too short. See this band soon and buy their damn records, (if you even care about rock n' roll).
At midnight we rang in Captain Beefheart's 25th birthday with a carbomb. One led to two and I quickly realized my Friday was going to be difficult. I ducked out of the club and went straight home to pass out. Thursdays Rock.
Last night began with trim a la Jacob. Having a solid guy who does house call haircuts is worth its weight in tacos. Lets forget the fact that after every haircut I look 12 years old again, (not his fault, I have what some might call a baby face). Around 7pm I headed over to the Mercury to meet Captain Carbomb for dinner. I managed to hang around the box office and convince a lady to buy Kaiser Chiefs tickets instead of The Bravery. Kristen didn't appreciate my sentiment, but I meant well. Eventually Johnny Too Bad came down, and we headed to Paladar for a pair of their unbelievable Cuban sandwiches.
After the meal, I rolled over to Elizabeth Street to meet Liz before stopping by the Something In the Way launch party at Groupe. It was such a fashionista fuckfest at this place, (I wish Sean Bones was there because his commentary would have been outlandish). The magazine is some Vice / Fader off shoot, but I didn't manage to pick-up or even see a copy so that's all I know. We met Hawkins, Builder and Miriam in the back and fought our way to the free Bacardi. They were making fancy pants drinks with special rum that tasted like candy. Liz and I took up space by the DJ tables, had a few drinks and then walked on.
Destination number two was The Mercury Lounge. We were greeted by Enrique, Daylen and Beana, but our hellos were quick as I wanted to check out Tralala, (formerly Tight Fit). Upon first glance, anything with a dick will be drawn to this band. It is fronted by four completely gorgeous ladies who share singing duties. Backing them up on the guitar/bass/drums are three guys who I quickly forgot, (despite their incredibly catchy rock songs). They reminded me of a dirty pop rock band fronted by 30% Ronnettes and 70% Runaways with a splash of the Slits for good measure. Unfortunately I had a difficult time listening to the band because my mind was on complete overload. I couldn't seem to choose which girl was the cutest, but eventually I decided on the girl dressed like a tennis player. Though Liz didn't agree, I'm sticking with my decision.
After the band, Beach and I stepped outside to discuss some important business. We ran into Howerton, Rich and Rich's lady (I'm terrible with names). After the cool down we stepped back inside and waited for the guest of honor. Amusement Parks on Fire took the stage and (thanks to Mark) were a lot better than Saturday night. They were playing at an audible level that didn't give me a migraine. I was only able to catch a couple songs because Warrior Perry showed up and tequila was instantly consumed. If you don't know the Warrior by now, he is a top notch shithead who was brought into my life via Enrique. The kid has been overseas for five months traveling the world with his lady friend. I'm psyched to have the crazy bastard back in the 212. After a quick catch up session, Liz and I hoped a cab with the hopes of catching a bit of The Double at the Knit.
A bit is exactly what we got. I think we saw one song, but I couldn't tell you. Inebriation and excitement for The Ponys had my mind wondering. Between sets we stepped outside to catch some air and we ran into Michael from We Are Scientists, (Check them out at Galapagos on June 2). Then Beach, Daylen and Mr. Warrior showed up and we slid back inside for PBRs and rock n' roll.
The past couple times I've caught a Ponys show, I wasn't impressed, (probably because they opened for Bloc Party). Last night's gig renewed my love for the Chicago four-piece. They killed it and that's not just the booze talking, (did I mention I was capital 'W' – wasted at this point). They played a decent mix of songs from both records and even graced us with an encore. The new guitar player has found his groove, and they are once again playing like a cohesive unit. The lead singer has crazy stage presence. He has the look and voice of Voidoids era Richard Hell, (it's an obvious comparison, but I'm making it). The Ponys sound like they locked themselves in a LES apartment in 1978 and reemerged yesterday simply to play a show. Fortunately someone slid a Folk Implosion record under their door so they could expand on the straight rock of the late 70's. My only complaint is that their set felt entirely too short. See this band soon and buy their damn records, (if you even care about rock n' roll).
At midnight we rang in Captain Beefheart's 25th birthday with a carbomb. One led to two and I quickly realized my Friday was going to be difficult. I ducked out of the club and went straight home to pass out. Thursdays Rock.
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