 |
 |
 |
| |
 |
|
 |
| |
|
|
 |
|
|
| |
My apologies for the interruption. In the mean time...
Bside NYE Blowout!!!
Friday, December 31, 2004 (10pm - till the lights go out)
featuring Jay Good Times, DJ Build It & Ms. Moon
Free Bubbles at the Stroke of Me(idnight)!
Bside is on Ave B btwn 12th/13th St
Holy Shuttlecock! Why Didn't You Tell Me?
Tumblehawk has a blog and no one told me. Culkins are forthcoming, you can bet on it. Watch your back Tumble, you may need to go on Orange Alert for Hawk status. From now on I'm bringing the razor out with me.
You Are A Marked Man.
Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Fishmas.
 *** Well, it’s finally over, and I missed it. Thanks to the friends who held tickets for me. I’m sorry this didn’t work out. Hopefully they’ll spend this money quickly so another tour will happen soon.
*** I just cried. Then I did a happy dance. Then I gave out a much needed Culkin.
*** In the wake of this tragedy, I now deem 186 the new Love Shack.
*** The year end lists are beginning to pour in. Yesterday Pitchfork gave us their Top 50 Reissues of 2004 and today they present the Top 50 Singles. I was psyched to see The Go Team! awarded such high placement, and the deserving Walkmen and LCD Soundsystem also registered high on the list. As for the reissues, the Rhino Box sets would have been my number one. How did the Clash even make that list? The extra discs in that set were rubbish.
*** A review of The Kills last Bowery performance finally reveals what types of kids hang out at the club. I want to say something snappy, but I enjoyed this one.
*** Can someone please explain this idea? Now in the midsummer months, hordes of indie kids will flock to... Cleveland?
*** Despite all the talk at their second Bowery gig about taking some much needed time off, Broken Social Scene entertains the idea of a trip to the Far East.
*** Speaking of Canadians, Exclaim! passes on what they think is the best of the best in 2004. Check out the top three entries in the “Punk” category. Now take a deep breath and remember how great 8th grade used to be.
 *** One x-Libertine is starting riots. If only Pete could lay off the junk for a moment, he might make some decent press. Instead, people he doesn’t even know are suffering the consequences of his drug addiction.
*** In the winner for “Who gives a shit break up of the year” goes to…. Its about time you jackasses stopped inciting meathead mosh pits.
*** The Lists just keep pouring in. There is a really cool interactive graphic on this page so check it out. Also note the lack of Arcade Fire on their Top 10 records. That’s brave; especially when The Streets are number 2. Then all of a sudden, Rolling Stone drops this bomb and makes me realize our culture is comprised of various marginally talented young folks.
*** Popmatters takes a moment to explain why we do it. It is a sickness.
*** And Finally... Just when you thought we were getting hit with a serious winter blast; it snows like crazy in West Virginia.
Sea Ray Hangs It Up.
I just received this distressing email from the Sea Ray list serve:
 It's with great sadness and anticipation that we announce our final show: Friday January 21 at NYC's Mercury Lounge, with our friends The Mobius Band, Falcon (members of Longwave), and one more special guest TBA.
After nearly eight fantastic years, we've accomplished far more than we ever thought possible and met more great people than we ever expected. We've played in venues we only dreamed of, in cities we'd only read about, and performed alongside bands we've idolized and befriended.
Unfortunately, several factors have led us to the decision that we cannot continue. The biggest difficulty we've failed to overcome is the financial challenge of being in an independent band full-time while maintaining any semblance of a personal life, as well. We're each unwilling to carry on with the band if it's anything less than 100% of our effort, and we're simply unable to do that anymore.
Rest assured that we're parting on good terms and will remain close friends who will most likely collaborate on future projects. It's just that Sea Ray as we know it is now going away.
We're sorry to share this news with you, and if you're anywhere near New York in January, we do sincerely hope you'll come out to the show and let us thank you in person for your support over the years, and also help us celebrate all the amazing times we've been lucky enough to experience with the band.
Our website will remain up, and we'll post news on future projects as they develop. We're also going to try and post the demos of the new songs we just finished.
Thank you all so much for everything. It means more to us than we can hope to express in an e-mail.
Until next time,
Anne, Colin, Greg, I-Huei, Jeff, Jordan
Our Skin Gets Thicker.
First and foremost, my daily Arcade Fire update: If you didn’t get that email, let me be the first to tell you, the show originally scheduled for February 1, 2005 at the Bowery Ballroom has been moved to Webster Hall so more kids will have the chance to enjoy the fresh tasting, less filling, north of the border rock.
Bundle Up Lest You Get Busted.
The weekends keep getting better. After work closed out last Friday, I returned home to watch Thursday night’s episode of the O.C. It was the 2nd annual Chrismukkah at the Cohen house, and this year was crazier than ever. If you didn’t see the episode, you may want to stop reading this post right now. Let me say this whole love child plot twist is somewhat out of place, but it does make the show uniquely Fox. Some friends have expressed their hatred for Lindsey (the red head new girl), but I must say she is shaping up to be this year’s Anna. I’m crazy about her, even if she is the bastard child of Caleb. Speaking of Mr. Dipstick, his lady is currently sleeping with her x-husband. Jimmy needs to get his head examined because Julie can’t be good for anyone. On a brighter note, the whole lesbian plot line should be hitting the small screen next month. Get your VCRs ready.
The next hour was spent sitting at the kitchen table making ornaments by my lonesome. Travis, Max and Noah’s party had a requirement of bringing home made ornaments to decorate their tree. My ornaments were collogue style. I attached cut outs to a cut up cereal box with bathroom putty. They came out pretty solid. Around 10pm I decided to hit the F Train and made my way out to Windsor Terrace. It took me quite awhile to figure out my way to their apartment (yet another reason Jay hates Brooklyn), but I eventually followed a group of similar looking kids and found the right party. Let me say those Jewish gentiles know how to throw a holiday party. It wasn’t an out of control time, but it did make me think about the holiday which seems to be the point. They had a beautiful tree decorated with various odds and ends (Jigga made crucified Jesus candy canes), and a pile of cider spiked with vodka or rum.
As the night progressed, everyone got silly. At one point Max, Mike, Tom and I were sitting around jamming out Weezer covers which is now my favorite holiday tradition. It was also good to catch up with the likes of Simon, Liz, Jeff and Travis. Jeff and I spent awhile comparing notes from our respective holiday parties. I get a hearty laugh imagining Jigga navigating the suits of some company party. As 3am rolled around, Stevo and I figured it was time to throw in the towel. We found a car with Noah S. and took a long ride back to NYC where the driver kindly dropped us off at Criff Dog. Beach, Oveis and Elise were inside the restaurant, and Beach was kind enough to purchase a round of dogs and tots for the table. Speaking of which, have you had their tots lately? In the words of one highly Culkinable individual, Holy Bulldog. They are the new tits of the winter. Best thing ever. We sat in Criff Dog watching Jackass the Movie with close to 15 other people until 4:30am. As we poured out onto the streets, Beach found it necessary to tackle me into a pile of garbage. Not wanting anything to do with this ridiculousness, Oveis and Elise took off, but a determined Beach and Stevo managed to take him down. We tried to search for a bar that would squeeze us in, but after a few tries, we called it a night. I went home and watched The Empire Strikes Back. It was such a high-quality night cap.
I Should Learn To Sleep Late.
Waking up at 11am after falling asleep around 6am can really fuck up your day, but Saturday had purpose. For the past couple weeks, Cami and I had plans to go Christmas shopping. She had one of those coupon books from Virgin Megastore which saved us a ton of money. We stopped by Norm’s to pick up a couple copies of Napoleon Dynamite before heading to Union Square. Cami and I have similar aversions to the shopping environment, but we figured with our neurosis combined we could overcome the hectic holiday mission. Thankfully, Virgin has endless selections for everyone on your gift list. We got over our initial sweats and made a b-line to the basement. After spending nearly an hour dicking about, we nearly had all our bases covered. A quick browse through some CD racks later and we were online with all our shopping completed. The woman who rang me up hooked up some coupon deal that saved me $60. I’m a huge fan of Virgin(s).
All that commerce had us famished so Cami took me to Telephone Bar for some food. I wasn’t too excited about the prospect of greasy bar food, but this place was choice. They have a huge menu and a tuna melt that rivaled most. The lunch was especially solid because Cami and I finally caught up. It’s a damn shame when you don’t see one of your best friends for a good few weeks, but clicking on all cylinders once you hang makes all the difference. When I finally returned home, exhaustion put me down for a few, but a brief second wind got me up to wrap the gifts. My family thinks it’s hilarious that I consistently wrap their gifts with the call girl section of The Village Voice. It makes for a laugh on Christmas morning, and this year I promise not to take enough pain killers to put down an elephant like last Christmas Eve.
Noah stopped in for to hang out before we hunkered down at the Mercury for an evening of NYC rock. We got to the club around 8:30pm and stationed ourselves in the back with some hefty vodka tonics. Knowing that this early cocktail hour would eventually become a problem didn’t stop me from double fisting and getting completely ridiculous. The first billed band was We are Scientists. It was my first time seeing (and hearing) these guys, and though it’s not my particular brand of whiskey, they could make some waves in the current industry environment. They have that four on the floor beat coupled with some guitar and vocals that recall Hot Hot Heat, The Killers and a splash of Jimmy Eat World. During their set we were joined by Beach who was ready to join me in my crusade to black out though as the night grew older I became a one man wrecking crew.
By the time Bishop Allen hit the stage, we were joined by the always lovely Liz. Though I’ve raved about their record on previous posts, I never managed to see Bishop Allen live. Sean warned me their live show was a bit different, but he neglected to throw a warning flag in reference to their gorgeous bass player. I have heard rumors and rumblings, but nothing could prepare me for her. As for the band, they sounded great. They come off as less earnest on stage as opposed to the record, but it’s my contention that most bands should. Their pop rock is complemented by their playful onstage attitudes and if they keep it up, their future should grow brighter.
The third band on this unyielding lineup was Saints and Lovers who recently changed names after a cease and desist order for the rights to The Sons of Sound. Before their set I got to say a long overdo hello to Audrey who (if you haven’t noticed) has been a very busy woman. As the set began, Audrey dipped into the back room a tequila shot before us. We were greeted by Dennis who looked sharp on stage with some black glasses and a fedora style hat. The band plays with huge lights behind them which cast them as shadows to most of the audience. With my increasing inebriation, those lights made it hard for me to focus. Saints and Lovers have a huge sound. Huge walls of guitars command attention with a firm slap on the ear drum. Dennis’ tasty harmonizing makes all the difference. It affords their music a chance to have a softer feel. Dave and I bobbed in pure enjoyment. I’ll be excited to see them again in a less cloudy state of mind.
The night grew hazy as we camped out by the bar. There were flashes of Oveis and Elise as well as Karen and Kari. After Keegan poured us a gigantic shot, my check was cashed. I couldn’t make it home quick enough.
Spreading Holiday Beer.
Sunday was my time to shine. Earlier last week, my sites were set on cooking a big dinner and having kids over to watch some football. My morning started entirely too early, but that’s what happens when you snap out of a tequila induced coma. Around 10am I cruised up to Key Foods to do the preliminary shopping. Upon my return to 186, I hung out in the kitchen preparing all the delicious we would later grub. I watched most of the Jets game by myself, but I was later joined by Kyle, Oveis, Dana, Elise, Beach and Daylen. During halftime of the Packers game we got down on the vegetable baked ziti, broccoli casserole, sausage, meatballs and garlic bread that was prepared earlier. The dinner set the tone for the rest of the evening that was spent sitting on the couch hoping Pedro would win his run for office.
My Coffee Came Late.
Bring on the hangover. There are few things I hate more than the process of dispelling a hangover. First there is the early morning dehydration. Then there is that awful taste in your mouth that stays with you until the first cup of coffee has been consumed. It doesn’t help when coworkers say you look like death and smell like a bottle of vodka. Don’t forget about the sweats and the shits; both are attractive qualities of a good hangover. I just received a call from Dan. Thankfully my biggest problem is the coffee grinds in my drink. This morning Dan was puking out the window of his truck. Tis the Season!
Jollier Than A Fat Guy In A Red Suit.
 If I keep stringing together fantastic days like the past two, there should definitely be public recognition of these achievements. Last night started with Dan, Kyle and I doing our best impression of the Friday movie series. Around 7pm we gathered our wits and cruised down Houston Street in search of the illusive Wooster Street. None of us knew exactly where it was but we eventually tripped over it. Unlike past years where the party was in the office, Flavorpill held this year’s holiday party at the AQUOS Project art space just south of Houston. It had a strange feel to it. The space was basically a rectangle with a bunch of flat screen televisions hanging on the wall. They were all playing some synced up graphic art that made me feel like we were secretly in a White Stripes video. There was also a back room that had screens playing PBS of all things. Thankfully there were two different bar options serving all sorts of Absolut and Tiger (yuck) Beer. It had a less personal ambiance, but all the major players were still present.
Upon walking in I was greeted by the always smiling, always loving Sascha. I haven’t seen him forever, which is a goddamn shame, but it always feels good to chat him up. We had a little discussion about my role in Loose Record. Hopefully he’ll be quick to offer guidance since his Flavorpill is known as a reliable name in the arts and music industry. Then I got a much needed huge from David who is one of the greatest, well adjusted kids around. As I worked my way back the room, I ran into Christina and her friend Louise. We discussed the questionable pot smoking policy for the evening. Christina reminded me that last year we were part of the corner crew who camped out in the back of the office the entire party. Then I ran into two very lovely ladies, Jocelyn and Liz. Seeing Jocelyn is always a special treat. We lamented over the fact that we never get to hang out anymore, but hopefully that will change in the near future. Tumbleweed and Lucy were next on the hit list. They were both tossing back drinks in preparation of their third and final night of The Pixies. Lucky bastards.
So I milled about talking to kids I haven’t seen in ages and while giving the eyes to girls I haven’t seen in ages. Ok, so I don’t know how to “give eyes,” but I was on the 2001 U.S. Nation Mingling Team. Dan, Kyle and I were a little upset with the strength of our drinks so we tried the bar in the back which was a beneficial move. Liz was hanging out with our good Pill pal (I’m fucking clever) Nick who writes for the NY Post sports section. Nick is a smart chap, and knowing that he’s a solid writer, I slipped him a card hoping he’ll contribute to Loose Record. He was at the party with his friend Sam who got me wrapped into a long conversation about dog sledding and broken arms. I couldn’t believe he had gone on a trip through Minnesota on a dog sled. A trip like that would absolutely blow my mind.
As the time drew closer to 10pm, Dan, Kyle and I slugged back our drinks, said our goodbyes, grabbed another drink and snuck it outside the party. As we stormed back east, Kyle and Dan were acting completely crazy. A black Cadillac cut us off somewhere around Crosby Street so Dan decided to throw the rest of his drink on the car. They immediate stopped and sat in the right lane for a second so Kyle decided to run up to the window to incite some kind of reaction. They pulled up to a stop light and we crossed. Somewhere around Mulberry Street they cruised by and threw a Pez dispenser at the crew. We shrugged it off and hustled through the cold to Luna Lounge.
 As we walked up to the club, we could hear the sonic imperfection that is Walk Humongous. I hustled into the club just in time to hear Pantalones! which is a hilarious track that Max sings in Spanish. Through my drunkenness last night, one lasting thought became clear; the addition of Stevo on guitar was the right move for Walk Humongous. Giving Max the freedom to prance around the stage as if he is the love child of GG Allin and Iggy Pop guarantees an entertaining show. One problem with the gig last night was the vocal mix. Even though the band sounded great, and I mean great, (have you been practicing), Max was often drown out by the bitching rhythms or Stevo’s shredding. They powered through the highly danceable Tommy Was a Dancer and my favorite tune Changing the World with reckless abandon. Kyle and Dan continued to spit beer and throw lemons during their entire set and I believe Colin was responsible for dousing Stevo with a healthy amount of fake blood. Sources tell me there may have been an onstage appearance by yours truly, but we have yet to confirm or deny those claims.
If you missed that show (and I know a lot of you did), you better have a damn good reason because they are only getting better. Soon you’ll beg for guest list spots in the hopes of catching a rare free glimpse at the craziness.
Get Your Christmas On.
Speaking of crazies, Noah Humongous sent me this email today regarding a tree decorating party out in Windsor Terrace. I recommend you brave the train and hit the outer borough cause it shall rock.
Okay, this is very last minute and everything, I know. Travis, Max and Noah are having a Christmas party tonight (Jews and Gentiles are all invited). We have a real 6 foot tree and it smells great. People are encouraged to bring all the damn people they want. They are encouraged to bring their own decorations for the tree to hang. There will be mistletoe and kissing. You know how everyone loves it when they have an excuse to kiss and not feel slutty. Eggnog and warm hard cider help (yes, warm and hard) will be provided.
Directions to 1521 11th Ave #3: Take the F to 15th Ave (Prospect Park). Walk down hill on either Prospect Park SW or 16th (wherever you walkout of the subway, just walk away from the shops). You'll come to 11th Ave and we are right there. You don't need to buzz or anything, you can just come in.
Happy Holidays,
The S.S. Happiness Crew
In Case I Forget. And I Often Do.
 Tomorrow night you need to be at the Mercury Lounge. Why? Well, there are about five reasons. The captain put together a bitching Saturday night show that will feature all sorts of up-and-coming New York City Bands. The lineup is as follows:
8pm – We Are Scientists
9pm – Bishop Allen
10pm – Saints and Lovers (formerly The Sons of Sound)
11pm – The Twenty Twos (Soooo hot!)
12pm – The Break-Up
Expect this show to run on time, but if you’re like me, you’ll be there by 8pm. Five straight hours at the Mercury should provide me with a hilarious blog entry, (memory of events pending). I’m super psyched because I’ve yet to see the first two bands and I heart Bishop Allen. Then there is the goodness of Saints and Lovers who you might know better as The Sons of Sound. I can’t wait to see what Dennis has in store for us.
You Bring The Toast. I’ll Bring The Jam.
Last night we wrote the definition of Wednesday. The entire evening was so top notch; I don’t think my prattle can convey the good times had by all. The work day got finished a little early due to our annual holiday party at the Law School. Lauren, my friend and former coworker, joined me for the festivities. The set up was a bit different from years past, but it worked out because the bar was right by the front door. Lauren decided to stay off the sauce for a bit because of last years amazing display. She could barely remember last year’s party, but I reminded her of the fact that she was openly hitting on the bartender while pounding the white wine. We made some rounds to sample the delicious selections that included an antipasto table (I ate a pigs worth of prosciutto), lamb curry, plantains, grilled shrimp (I drained the Atlantic), turkey, roast beef, a table where a chef would cook you a selected pasta dish and a desert table that included a chocolate fountain for fondue. Lauren and I managed to devour plate after plate of the delicious while avoiding unnecessary conversations. I did get to chat with Jose for a bit who was still giving David shit about the Mets. He never lets up. We shared our concern for the Jets though for some damn reason Jose is a Bills fan. Feeling the tryptofane kicking in, we said some goodbyes and bolted.
After a cold walk home, I was greeted by Kyle and a boiling apartment. 186 can be so unpredictable. In the morning it’s typically freezing, but at night it’s a toss up. Some times the place makes you sweat on other occasions you have to keep your coat on. Noah joined us for awhile, and as I’m typing this, I’m reminded that we forgot to rip the new Trail of Dead record to The Future. It looks like Noah may have to come by again soon. Jin also cruised in to hang out before going to the show. They ordered food while I tried to digest the lump in my stomach. Alister and his friend (Cathy? Judy? Ummm?) came over for a hot minute, (sorry about that one). We sat around doing knifers until it was time to hit the road.
 On our walk to the Bowery, Jin and I got wrapped up in a discussion about Full House. One of the points raised was in regards to Uncle Joey sleeping in the living room. If you remember the shows earlier days (pre-basement remodeling), Joey Gladstone was forced to live in a small cove located under the stairs in the rear corner of the living room. As many of you also know, Joey was a comedian which probably means he has some skeletons in the closet, (jail time perhaps?). The basis of my inquiry was if Joey was living in a cove in the Tanner’s house, he must have gone through some sort of rough period. Maybe he just got released from rehab. Maybe he was a degenerate gambler who was hiding from bookies. Some might say he was brought in to help Stephanie, Michelle and DJ through the rough times following their mothers death, but would he just move in? Anyway, think about that and get back to me. In addition, is Uncle Jesse from the same Greek Island as Balki Bartokomous?
We stepped out of the cold and into the Bowery as Raising the Fawn was finishing up their set. The band was quite awful so I retreated to the basement to say hello to Merida and Frank who were tending to the many drinkers at last night’s show. Merida was yelling across the bar to Frank in regards to this blog and since I know she’ll read this at some point so….
Merida, you have to understand, this is an incredibly dorky process. I’m sitting here keeping an online diary, and here you are yelling across the bar about how great it is. I’m a lonely guy, and this sort of thing isn’t going to help the cause. Please keep reading, but can we not gush about it in front of all the hipsters. Thanks.
Yeah, so Merida, I’m just kidding. Please keep talking about it. It makes me blush. Its always nice to hear that someone besides Builder is reading this. Hopefully Bango will get on the train, and then soon we’ll even have Jim keeping tabs via Good Times Roll. Probably not, but anyway thanks to Frank and Merida for hooking me up with the supersized vodka tonics. This morning was a bit rough, but I found a coffee and donut room in the Law School so I medicated heavily. Jin and I ran into her friend Doug the Lawyer and kicked about for awhile.
 After the opener finished, I found Liz who was fresh off a study session. We made our way to the back corner where we found a very drunk Action. He was going so strong. He came down to the Bowery straight from a few hours of drinking at his own work party. Once again the topic turned to football and Liz grew disinterested. Then all of a sudden they hit the stage. I’m using the pronoun ‘they’ liberally because there must have been a total of 15 musicians (including The Stills) who contributed to the Broken Social Scene last night. At different points in the evening there must have been 10 or 11 people on stage. It was like one big Canadian musical orgy. It was such a lively show, (after the first couple slow spaced out jams). As Mia showed up to the back corner we were talking about KC Accidental and at that moment they launched into the intro guitar riff. It caused me to go a little nuts. Though I’ll never see them play a set like Coachella, last night came pretty damn close. They played for nearly 2 and ½ hours which was obviously welcomed as indicated by the full room as they finally finished. They didn’t give a damn who stuck around. They were just playing for the sake of playing. Apparently it was the end of two years of touring for them, so let’s hope it wasn’t some sort of good bye.
By the end of the show we were surrounded by a solid crew of monkeys that included Lucy, Tumblehawk, Daylen, Beach, Meredith, Sarah, Denise, Brian, Ryan, some kids I didn’t know and a whole lot of the Bowery crew. We all rocked out well into the night to a set that included some great hand clapping during Stars and Sons and some killer scotch hop during Cause=Time and Almost Crimes. During the show I was bouncing between the basement and the main floor. Thankfully I was upstairs when the beautiful Emily Haines took the microphone (and my heart) for a stunning rendition of Anthems for a 17 Year Old Girl. Maybe it was the eight man back drop, but she was gorgeous last night. Now if only she’d drop the Bono hand motions we could get married.
The Real Big Baby Jesus.
Christmas is a time for togetherness. It’s a time to come together with your friends and family in celebration of the birth of Christ. Tonight we gather for a similar celebration. You might hear Max singing the Stick It In My Ass song, but all I’m hearing is Jingle Bells. In a lot of ways Max resembles our fallen savior. Jesus had the 12 apostles while Max has Walk Humongous. Jesus was a Jew. Max is definitely a fan of Chanukah. Jesus wore sandals. Max rarely wears shoes. My point is that by coming to the Walk Humongous show tonight, you are not only showing your affection for Max, Stevo, Noah and Colin, but you are also showing your love to Jesus. Big ups to Jesus. Dude made blind people see and his best friend was a whore.
Hi, We’re Walk Humongous. Come watch me dance.
Here are all the necessary details...
Thursday, December 16 (9:30pm)
Luna Lounge (Ludlow btwn Houston and Stanton)
21+ / FREEEEEE
*** One Important Piece of Buisness: The Arcade Fire show scheduled for February 2nd (Warsaw/rumors of Southpaw) has been moved to Irving Plaza. I don't know when it will be announced, but get your tickets early because Bowery is already sold out!
Don't Say I Didn't Warn You.
Leah just sent me an email that reads:
I heard from my company that today is the last day to register your cell phones so that your numbers aren't released to telemarketers. Starting january 1, 2005, telemarketers will be able to call cellphones. In order to not have this happen to you, register your phone here.
Take a minute and protect yourself. Also protect yourself against being shut out of the Arcade Fire show on February 1st at the Bowery. Buy your tickets NOW!
Beef. It’s What I’m Feeling.
 Howdy folks. Sorry for the delay with the construction of this post. My special apologies to the new reader who claim to check this blog four times a day. Since the weekend ended I’ve been very busy. Before jumping into a recap of the entire shitshow, there is some dirt I have to get off my shoulders. Anna, this is in no way directed at you or the rest of your band (Fxxxing Lion), but I want to pee on your lead singer. It’s not because he acted like a smart ass when I ran into him on the street before the gig. It’s not because of his inability to do tricks with a microphone. It’s not because he took his pants off during the set on Saturday and proceeded to moon the crowd. None of that bothers me. It rolls right off my back. What does piss me off is his first onstage utterance Saturday night, “Trail of Dead fucking sucks.” This came directly after me bringing down the house volume on one of my favorite Trail of Dead tracks, It Was There That I Saw You before Fxxxing Lions began their set. Thank you for directly commenting on my selection of music. I’m sorry if Trail of Dead is way too 2001 for you, but seriously reexamine your comments in the context of your band, the cloths you wear and your singing ability if that’s what we’re calling it. You fucking copycat. I don’t want this to be taken the wrong way by the rest of the band, because the Fxxxing Lion has some serious song structures that had me grooving the entire way. They destroyed the Trash sound system with a post hardcore sound that is one of my personal favorites, but thanks to dude’s comment, I’ll never see them again. Whatever, Trail of Dead fucking rocks. And I played Michael Jackson’s Bad followed by The Misfits Attitude right after their set, though I’m certain I’m the only one who got the joke.
***I can't believe what you said to me. You got some attitude.***
Back To The God Old Days.
Since Friday I’ve tried to stay under the radar with the obvious exception of Saturday night. After work at the Law School, I rushed home to get some warmer clothes on for a shift at Webster Hall. Keller Williams was slated to play two sets that evening, and the hippies came out in full force. Noah was kind enough to score us some Roasters before the doors opened, but slamming a roast beef sandwich may not have been the best idea. The walk up wasn’t nearly as crazy as Bunbury, but the show still did pretty well. We had a lot of fun making up the “Jay the Friendly Door Guy,” song and Gigs busted me giving the cute hippy girls preferential treatment. In any event, we had a good night at the club. My shift ended promptly at 11pm and so did my Friday night. On the way home I decided to scramble to see if anyone was having a drink on the direct path to my apartment, but my calls were in vain. After a quick “episode” in Gracefully where I though I was going to pass out like last winter, I was home watching late shows and making mix tapes.
Jinners’ 26th Birthday Dealie.
 Saturday was spent exactly how I pictured it; sitting in my living room doing next to nothing. Builder and I sat around watching Da Ali G Show while making piles of mix tapes for the party. Eventually Noah came over and we did much of the same. It was truly a wasted day. Around 7pm we hopped in a cab to take a quick trip to Trash. Noah was supposed to meet Ryan for load in, and I wanted to drop off my milk crate of CDs. Dirty On Purpose was sound checking and Jin was milling about looking like a girl who was preparing for her big birthday party. She introduced us to Rich and Cathy, her brother and sister, and we decided to stop by Snacky’s for some dinner. Since I already ate, I just shared a Sapporo with Jin while they dined on the delicious tapas at the restaurant. We were later joined by George, Anna, some girl whose name I never caught, Dj and his lady friend. We had a minor crisis when Jin lost the guest list. Well, to be fair, she didn’t lose it. The list tried to escape her clutches. In an attempt to gain its independence, the list slipped into a tiny crack between the wall and the bench. Eventually we were able to recover it and put it back under Jin’s rule.
With the list in tow, Jin and I skipped down Grand Street in an effort to hustle our way back to the club. Upon arrival I said some hellos and made a direct line to the back room. Bob (the sound guy) had been kind enough to show me the ropes earlier in the evening, so I was able to walk right into the booth to get things started. There aren’t many memories of my set. I often notice that Jin, Audrey or Nora post the songs they played while DJing, (or in my case juke boxing, what the hell is a BPM). For me, its all about playing the hits mixed with a few old school tunes that will make someone walk up just to tell me how much they love a song, (or you can just scream like Jin when I played the Walkmen). There was one song with a guaranteed reaction. When I played Neu, George came to the booth to tell me it was one of his all time favorite songs. This I figured long before playing it.
 The night was a bit blurry, but it was great to see everyone out in full force in honor of such a sweet girl. There were times when I’d get so spun around that everything felt like one big mess. This coupled with the surprise guest appearance of certain unmentionables into my blood stream made for an evening of craziness. You already know my reaction to Fxxxing Lion, but let me break down what I can recall in reference to the other bands. Sam Champion brought the goods. The dismal acoustics at Trash seemed to take the pressure off which afforded Noah and the boys a chance to rip. They brought out all the hits. The Sean element of the band has yet to develop into what I’d like to see, but then again, it isn’t my call. Sean is a bird. You can’t cage him. More Solos! Anyway, I’m sure they covered Neal Young somewhere along the way, but one of my favorite tracks is their new call and response tune, Jealous Shakes. This song could be the Company Dance of 2005. Thanks to Jack for pointing out the obviousness behind my decision to play The Weight directly after Sam Champion finished.
I wasn’t the most attentive kid during the bands, but that’s because my time in the booth prevented the mingling necessary for a make out session, (which naturally never happened). It was good to see kids like Jamie who came all the way from Canada for this party, though Jamie (and I know you’ll read this at some point), I don’t know if I believe that you live in Canada. Are you sure you don’t live on like 205th Street and just figure it’s our neighbor to the North? It was also nice to see kids like Jo, DTL, Juliet and Greg who I only get to see at special occasions. There were also the usual suspects that always make these parties killer. This included Kyle, Hawkins, Mikey, Builder, Miriam, Erin, Stevo, Dan, Dave, Mia, Gigs, Liz, Lance, Howerton, Dan, Sarah, Dalia, Maya, Tim, Karl, Nate, Amy, Chris, Janeanne, Melanie, Simon, Scott, Christie, Julia and the list could go on and on and on. Thanks for coming out and rocking out.
 To be honest, I can’t comment much on the Dirty On Purpose set. I didn’t manage to watch much of it, but I guess that’s ok because I’ll live to see them play again soon. I do recall standing on a bench with Ackerman while they were playing, but that was interrupted by Jamie feeding me drinks, (God love him). As their set finished I took control of the decks one last time before the hot karaoke girls came to take over. Hot karaoke girls are hot. The next thing I remember, I was sitting in the basement smoking with Mia and Dave in a very dimly lit corner. It felt sketchy as hell, but it was nice to take a break and catch up with some friends. I stuck around in the backroom for a bit hoping Mia would get a chance to sing Whitney Houston, but after a few kids belted out tunes, I made way for the pool table. Hawkins and I shot Joe and probably some girl in a game of pool before hopping in the car and making way for home.
Keep Your Hands On The Vehicle.
Sunday was met with mixed reviews. Loose Record had an early afternoon meeting before I settled into a day of football. The good news is that Notre Dame has found a new football coach in the Patriots’ offensive coordinator, Charlie Weis. In addition, my main man Ty Willingham is back in the Pac-10. He took a job coaching at University of Washington. They could use his guidance. The bad news is the Jets lost to the Steelers. Josh, Kevin, Dan, Alister, Mikey and I sat around watching the Jets offense play like garbage. I’m not going to get on my Chad Pennington tirade, but the kid better get us into the playoffs if he wants to be in this fan’s favor. The evening was closed out with Thai food and paper writing. Thanks to Alister, I didn’t fuck about and got some work done.
A Couple More Uneventful Days.
Monday was spent finishing a long overdue Incomplete. If you know me more than most, you know I never finished school. Why? I’m just not going to sweat it. Tuesday was a deadline for me to turn in a paper for the internship I did last spring. A bunch of coffee and 30 pages later, I had something for my professor. During yesterday’s lunch hour I turned it in to my advisor. She asked when I planned on taking the final step to finishing and I told her my goal was before 2010.
Last night I had to work the John Legend show at Bowery. Some might ask who John Legend is, and my only answer would be that he was in a singing group with Allie’s older sister while they attended UPenn together. Apparently he has the goods because the room was packed with kids hungry for the R&B. Luckily the club had the Dynamic Door Duo holding down the fort. I was freezing my ass off at second door when Ray nearly saved my appendages. He remembered there was an extra pair of socks stashed in the office, and he hooked me up. Those socks saved my day. After my shift was finished, I cruised downstairs to hang with the crew while everyone finished up. Merida was kind enough to warm me up with a nice glass of whiskey. I desperately want to insert something here that embarrasses Merida since she is new to Good Times Roll, but my wit is running on empty. As the evening came to a close, Mia and I walked down Delancy freezing our respective asses off.
And on a final note, I’d like to claim the crotch in this picture. Yup, that’s mi junk. Now for your moment of Zen:
This Week's Favorite Emotion: Lazy!
This Is No Time For Pirate Vendettas.
Lou Reed said it best. How is it that a man, who used to run around Max’s Kansas City asking young men to come home with him to poop in his mouth so he could get off, gets the chance to write some of the most ethereally poignant songs? This is a great mystery to me. If having some kid take a dump on your tongue provides you with the inspiration to piece together a song like White Light/White Heat, Vicious or Heroin then more power to you. I had a burrito for dinner last night; so if you want me to pitch in, give me a call. But seriously folks, how can you deny the song There Is No Time? I’ve spent the last two days allowing that song to completely break me down, and it worked.
 This is no time for Celebration
this is no time for Shaking Heads
This is no time for Backslapping
this is no time for Marching Bands
This is no time for Optimism
this is no time for Endless Thought
This is no time for my country Right or Wrong
remember what that brought
There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time
This is no time for Congratulations
this is no time to Turn Your Back
This is no time for Circumlocution
this is no time for Learned Speech
This is no time to Count Your Blessings
this is no time for Private Gain
This is no time to Put Up or Shut Up
it won't come back this way again
There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time
This is no time to Swallow Anger
this is no time to Ignore Hate
This is no time to be Acting Frivolous
because the time is getting late
This is no time for Private Vendettas
this is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
the freedom of who you are
This is no time to Ignore Warnings
this is no time to Clear the Plate
Let's not be sorry after the fact
and let the past become out fate (soooo good!)
There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time
This is no time to turn away and drink
or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
and take dead aim and Attack
This is no time for Celebration
this is no time for Saluting Flags
This is no time for Inner Searchings
the future is at head
This is no time for Phony Rhetoric
this is no time for Political Speech
This is a time for Action
because the future's Within Reach
This is the time
this is the time
This is the time
because there is no time
There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time
Can you deal with that? Yeah, me neither. Lou Reed is a demigod and I defy those who disagree.
Wasting Away In Margaritaville.
Big plans were in the mix last night, but I ended up staying in to do work. Jay has what some might call unfinished business with New York University. I was a student (wait, I am a student) at Gallatin which some of you may know as the “make up your own major” school. Yeah, guidance has always been an issue with this delicate flower. Unfortunately, I never received much (or looked for it) so my transcript has yet to confirm graduation. There is a colloquium that needs to be done, but more importantly, I need to turn a paper regarding an internship I did last spring. Where can I find the time? Instead of checking out the Bravery and Moving Units last night, I decided to stay in to get some work done. After writing nearly 8 pages my work got interrupted by the best television show ever.
Did you watch the O.C. last night? I spent most of the episode yelling at the television, but the final twist had me bouncing around the apartment like a school girl. If you don’t like this show, take my number out of your phone. We are no longer friends.
Following the show I managed to ward off any temptation from the Bowery or Atomique and I focused my efforts back on the paper. Around page 11 I received a phone call from my good pal Trevor who is currently waiting in Arizona to receive orders from his commanders. He is in good spirits and spends most of his day sitting in the government provided hotel room. Trevor got to spend Thanksgiving with friends in Colorado, and he is currently working on a screenplay. If his orders don’t come in the next couple weeks, he is going to try to sneak home for Christmas. I’m praying he makes it home.
Payday Quick Hits.
 *** Ahhhh… Those Flaming Lips. What will they think of next? I must get my hands on this piece of vinyl.
*** Wilco announces some tour dates for 2005. Hopefully Tweedy can hold his sanity long enough to complete this short list. In a related note, Tower Records is selling cheap copies of Wilco records so go beef up your catalog.
*** Best of luck to James Brown in his fight against prostate cancer.
*** I’m going to have to figure out how to get on the list for this party. February 10th. Mark your calendars.
*** Electric Six takes on Queen in an attempt to regain some of their dimming spotlight.
*** Has Radio 1 found someone to step into Peel’s shoes? Probably not.
*** Snoop is the new Lombardi and they are making a movie about it. Watch out Snoop; in the days of Michael Jackson that final comment could get you in trouble.
*** If you missed the hipster fuckfest at Rothko last weekend, don’t worry, Spin has you covered.
*** Get ready to read a heap of these articles. No great revelations, but if you were in a deep coma it might help you out.
*** Ryan Seacrest and Usher order a double Culkin.
Check back later for a few updates and party information. Happy The Life Aquatic day!
Tequila Tuesday To End All!
Hey folks, just a heads up about a bitching show that was just confirmed. On Tuesday, February 22, 2005, The Shout Out Louds will be opening for The Futureheads at the Bowery Ballroom. Tickets aren't onsale yet, but keep checking Ticketweb because this son-of-a-bitch will sell out in the whip of a faux hawk.
I promise you that the Shout Out Louds will be your new favorite band.
R.I.P. Dimebag Darrell.
 Early this morning Dan sent me an IM regarding last night’s terrible event in Columbus, Ohio. Apparently a lone gunman stormed the stage at a metal show and killed four people before he was gunned down by a police officer who responded to the call. One of the victims is "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott who formed the band Damageplan in the wake of the Pantera breakup. This shooting is extremely startling. Detectives have yet to construct a motive for the killing. This type of incident will have a negative impact on live music across the country. Much like the crack down on capacity levels after the Great White tragedy in Long Island, we are sure to be subject to more security checks and longer lines at the door. Imagine walking into one of your favorite venues and being padded down like you were going to Twilo. This whole occurrence is beyond me. I wish people would exercise some common sense or even a slight bit of morality. Here’s to hoping that none of us will ever be present at a show where something like this happens.
DJ Scratchy Throat.
So I’ve been trying to be a good boy in hopes of whatever cold I thought was coming on might not reach its peak. Last night was an exception to my evenings of dosing with Nyquil so I could be asleep by midnight. After work I took to some hang time by myself before rolling up to Webster for a shift at the door. The band in question was Bunbury which is something unknown to me. I was told it he was the Latin Jim Morrison or Nick Cave, but from downstairs it sounded like polka meets salsa mix of campy Latin flavor. Bunbury must have some serious pull in the Latin community because kids were lining up down the block to get into this show. The language barrier made my work a little more difficult than expected, but we pulled together and got the job done.
After the show Del and I were returning to the L.E.S., and the direction of my evening was at a complete crossroad. Should I go home to get some sleep? Should I ride with Del up to Strawberry Fields to sing some Lennon covers? Should I stop in at Pianos to catch some of the show? Since my mind was still racing when I hit Ludlow, I decided it was best to take the right and go say hello to some friends. As I approached Pianos Emma and Pooja were sitting out front getting their cigarette on. After a quick hello I shot into the club and said hello to Sam Champion and their people before sliding into the back room to catch a few songs by Demander. Their new guitarist has the goods, (he is also good looking, so ladies, pay respect). Though I only stayed for a few songs, Demander has proven they’re an extremely solid rock band. Check them out next Wednesday at Pianos as they wrap up their residency.
During their set Hawkins breezed past and informed me that he was heading to the Delancey to catch Walk Humongous. We said later on to Noah and made way for the front door. Sean was cool enough to pass me a burn of the first Drive Like Jehu record which I’ll introduce myself to later this evening. As we walked up to the club we were greeted by Stevo, Noah Humongous and Noah S. Hawkins lured me inside with the promise of a drink where we ran into Dave who was playing in a band called Quarter Slot and the Good Vibrations. Interesting name eh? Anyway, we went downstairs where Max introduced me to his mother and I said hello to the rest of the crew. We suffered through some band called The Kites who didn’t really move me. There was also a bias stemming from their final song which was a cover of Britney Spears’ Toxic. Everyone should know These Bones covered this song, and they did it better, faster and harder than anyone can hope to.
The Death Disco party, as per the usual, pushed back the bands something awful so my chances of seeing Walk Humongous were slim to none. Dana stopped in to say a quick hello, and I managed to catch up with some of the boys (and girls) from The Head Set before watching Dave’s band play a few songs. They were quite an interesting mix. I was digging on his guitar parts, but there was something about the Molly Shannon meets Karen O style of their lead singer that didn’t get me too excited. She was quite hilarious though, and she sounded pretty damn good. She looked as though at any point her heals would break sending her straight to the ground. They were tight and had a solid niche to them. Check them out if you like free brownies.
This was the end of my running around. I returned home, drank some Nyquil and slipped off. A big shout out goes to Bonnie. Thanks for checking in!
Thursday’s Quick Hits.
*** You know I’m a huge fan and the producers for this endeavor have done great work, but something about this isn’t sitting right with me. I’ll just get the box set and call it a day.
*** Christopher digs on GBV. That’s wicked.
*** Oh that Bono, such a nice boy. Now he is trying his hand at journalism. I will hold my comments since I also eat shit at editing.
*** Novoselic says, hey Bono, anything you can do I can do better. Well, not really.
*** Diddy / Bush 2008. In an unfortunate turn of events, P. Diddy is invited to the White House, but President Bush throws a temper tantrum when Puffy won’t sing that song about “Babys having back”.
*** How do we contact this guy so he can start coming to our parties? I believe he’d boe well with the rest of our crew.
*** A second album is already in store for the Futureheads, but I’ve yet to hear a single song off their debut. Someone please catch me up.
*** Last time I saw Elliot he told me to check these guys out. Unfortunately I missed their opening gig for Out Hud. It looks like Pitchfork agrees with the kid whose finger rarely lifts from the pulse. Can anyone help with a burn?
Demander Presents: Residency Evil!
 The last couple days have been dreadful. The weather has not cooperated with New York City’s zest for nightlife. In fact, Mother Nature is the only reason I melted into the couch on Monday and it nearly ruined my Tuesday. Thankfully the former half of this work week hasn’t featured too many outstanding shows, but today there is a hump day special that is guaranteed to help you usher in the downhill portion of the week. As many of you know, last week our favorite purveyors of (don’t call it punk) rock, Demander, began a three week residency at the hipster haven known to many as Pianos. Tonight is the second effort and the bill boasts some kick ass support. Kicking the evening off at 7:30pm is the Providence based band, Badman. Next on the bill is your favorite faux earnest rock band Sam Champion. These boys may play the role of indie rock, but we all know they're capable of bringing big time fuzzed out rock, (in between those slow songs Noah loves so much). Sam Champion has worked their ass off the past couple weeks with the hopes of taming the tiger (Sean) just enough so he can be let out of his cage. You’ll want to be at Pianos by 8:30pm to see what they have in store. Demander is hitting at 9:30pm. Make sure to report back to me in regards to their new guitar player. As a big fan of Carlos, I was sorry to see him go, but Sivan and Karen dig on their new member (ewwww) and I’m sure you will too. Bringing up tonight’s rear is Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band. This is one act I’ve been trying to catch for quite some time, but unfortunately I’m working tonight so this isn’t my lucky night.
The best part about this entire evening is a $5 cover for all that rock. If you are bit by the dancing bug, head upstairs after the show for Savvy which is a new Wednesday night party hosted by the lovely Nora.
Take Jay Home For The Holidays.
 This is my first of many posts asking for some assistance in my return home for the holidays. I need to get a ride to somewhere near Clearfield, PA. If you are driving through the state (preferably I-80) this would be perfect. If you are driving to somewhere like Pittsburgh, this may also work. I’m trying to get off work on Thursday, December 23rd, but it isn’t looking promising. I should be able to swing half a day which means I could be ready to hit the road by 12:30pm. I have a licenses and auto insurance so I could help with the driving. I’m 420 friendly, but I’m not to into moving mass amounts of drugs. Gas money will be forked over. This would save me a huge hassle and tons of cash so let me know if you can help a brother out. Post a comment or drop me an email. Thanks so much!
My Favorite Neighbor.
Why is it we can often go weeks without a serious hang with our favorite people? Realizing that we haven’t had dinner together in a long time, Christie and I met up in front of the Mercury Lounge last night and made way to Inoteca. The fantabulous wine bar has a massive menu of Italian goodies, but it’s all written in Italian. Though I boast a 50% background from the old country, I’m definitely the product of an American upbringing meaning Jay doesn’t understand a lick of Italian. Luckily, Christie had the goods to get us some bitching wine and a delicious dinner. The strange thing about Inoteca is the music. It comes off with this old country feel, but the sound system pumps a mix tape fit for the Lower East Side. We were graced by tunes from Guns and Roses, Interpol, Longwave, The Notorious B.I.G., The Killers and many others. It really takes me back to the old country. They also tried to add to this authentic feel by having one of their employees serenade a birthday girl in the front of the restaurant. It kind of pissed me off because they turned down a Foo Fighters song just when it was hitting the hook. We stopped by the Magician for a quick drink before calling it a night. It was great to catch up with a darling of a girl.
The Quick Hits.
*** Another instance of Jay Belin being a day late and a dollar short. If anyone has a beat on an extra copy of this 7inch, I will gladly service them for hours. The Swami site says they are already sold out.
*** Don’t miss the boat. Buy your tickets NOW!
*** The Grammy’s or the MTV Music Awards. You decide.
*** Fuck Christmas. The messiah is born on Feburary 15, 2005. This is a day that will live in infamy. You know I adore James Murphy. If you have yet to join me, February is as good of time as any.
*** My little sister wants this record for Christmas. Though you know I love Jigga, I just puked in my mouth.
*** Just when you thought it was safe to retire your spandex... The Darkness decide to drop the follow up to Permission to Land.
*** So that’s where they’ve been hiding.
*** And most of all, I’d like to thank you… the readers. Without you, none of this would be possible.
Two Huge Pieces Of News.
*** Tickets for !!! (Culkin Culkin Culkin)'s December 30th show at the Mercury Lounge go on sale this afternoon. Check Ticketweb. Additionally, they are scheduled to play both a 7:30pm and 10:30pm show. Each show will have a TBA opener. I just hope my whole load isn't shot in one night. Save something for NYE!
*** The O.C. just got a whole lot sexier. Fuck yeah!
Further Seems Forever.
Does anyone know if Funeral for a Friend is named after the Elton John song of the same name? So thinking back to Thursday makes my brain hurt ever so slightly. It feels like it was ages ago, but that’s beside the point. Thursday night was spent working the 2nd door for the Phoenix concert (1st NYC show) featuring local flavors or favorites Inouk and Benzos. The show isn’t something I’d go out of my way to see, but everyone there thoroughly enjoyed the band. It amazed me because what I saw of Phoenix was such a fucking wank. Sure they were tight, but their songs sounded like a rip off of Jamiroquai. Phoenix was textbook guilty pleasure, (at least I’m hoping so because my NYC counter parts went ape shit). Their brand of Frenchpop didn’t shake me in the loins like the rest of the crowd, but I stuck it out for most of the set because Beach, Daylen, Lucy, Tumblehawk and Macchia were all present. Phoenix rocked some highly infectious danceable tunes, but eventually I couldn’t take anymore and it was time to duck out.
She Likes To Party. She Likes To Rock.
On Friday I managed to get my spirits up despite my lack of tickets for the Guided by Voices send off shows, (Check out what ProductshopNYC had to say). Noah came over after work, and we sat around listening to the Dungeon album which seems to get better after every listen. I also gave my live Make Up record a spin which hadn’t seen the light of my stereo in ages. They are so killer. I have to thank my former lady friend, Christine, for getting me into their brand of post-punk art-rock, (quite possibly the most over used phrase in today’s music press). My early 2000 love of all things D.C. made my acceptance of the band all too natural.
Around 8pm we set out to meet up with Beach so we could split a cab down to Bubby’s for some BBQ in celebration of Ove | | | |
Happy Birthday 
