Happy Halloween goes out to the Loose Army, (formerly known as but never associated with The KISS Army). Today is the day we take on different personalities, and I can't wait. My costume is my standard b-boy affair which never seems to get old. I guess there is something funny about a scruffy white kid flashing a bunch of cheesy gold that makes everyone warm inside. Throw in a ghetto blaster for optimum results. Hopefully we'll run into each other at some point so I can throw down my cardboard and do my best Breakin' impression.

The weekend wasn't the full blown body cavity search its been the past couple weeks, but I actually feel a bit less banged up than the previous shitshows - this is a plus. Friday kicked off with a Dresden Dolls show at Webster Hall. I entered the ballroom to find a veritable sideshow of circus freaks and theater kids doing there thing throughout the venue. It felt very strange, and I even had to ask the butterfly, who was chained to the staircase, not to touch me. I tried to do it nicely as not everyone is privy to the "NO TOUCHING" rule. The show went awfully well so after the shift, Matty G and I had a couple drinks in the balcony with Sarah, Denise and Gigs. We rolled out before the show finished and stopped by Chipotle for some free burritos. We sat in an empty Chipotle drinking Buds while the staff closed down shop - are you envious? We proceeded down to Stevo's to have a beer with him and Jordan who were in the middle of the same lazy Friday night. Eventually we made it back to 186 where Builder was lying on the couch in a Seersucker bathrobe watching soft-core - disturbing, I know. We finished the night with some wine, a drop in by Perry and some Arrested Development Season II DVDs.

I woke up Saturday to find two empty wine bottles next to my bed. The late night hours got a bit hazy, but I still managed to get some solid sleep. Ghory called from a neighborhood Mexican breakfast joint so I hustled to meet him for yet another burrito. We finished our meal just in time to meet Stevo and Jordan to help move Stevo into Moser's old apartment on Avenue B. We managed to get the first load into the new place pretty quick thanks to additional help from Brenda. 186 scored a new futon frame from the whole deal, (thanks Jordan and Brenda). Following the move, I met with Lucy to cruise up to Serkan's place for a Loose meeting. He was late so we popped into The Bravest for a couple $2 well drinks. After a fairly productive meeting, I returned home to get lazy for a bit.

Later that night, Josh, Gabe and I stopped by Fat Baby so the boys could see the space before the three of us met Howerton at Mo Pitkin's for an amazing meal. Believe the hype on this Avenue A establishment. We shared awesome appetizers like Crispy Artichokes and Deep Fried Mac n' Cheese and then I bro'd down on a Cuban Rueben. I had no idea Hailey worked there, but we were heartbroken when we didn't get one of her tables. After the meal we returned to 186 where I proceeded to puke out the delicious meal High School cheerleader style. By 10pm I was cleaned up and on my way North.

Jill, Rebecca and Deanna threw a Halloween party that consisted of a mix of kids I wasn't all too familiar with. The kids I did recognize lived on 7A of Weinstein back in the day. Oh, how I hated that dorm. Eventually Mike and Sarah showed up with hilarious masks that were pictures of their faces blown up to creepy proportions. Nice work guys. Around 11pm, Gigs, Beach and I met on 13th Street headed West to John and Jen's apartment for another Halloween party. Nearly the entire party was dressed up and there were some top notch costumes to go along with the decorations. The Mo's certainly went all out and even had a big spread of food. We pissed the night away drinking Gray Goose between shots of Patrone.

At some point Perry, Conejo, Cowgirl and I decided to bail out. Before the next series of events could be put together I was on the floor of a limo throwing back little bottles of tequila. Somehow Perry talked a limo driver to take us something like 10 blocks in his empty whip. I have a question... did I climb around in a dumpster before we got in the limo? Anyway, we arrived at some house (was the kids name Jeffers?) party where friends like Robbie, Liz and Justin were in the kitchen getting cozy with a keg. Shannon and Lindsay found their way into a massive shitshow with ring leader and keg stand master Ian "Fuck You" Perry. The kid was out of control - surprise. For the duration of our stay, he stood at the head of the keg demanding all kitchen comers do a keg stand. At some point we decided it was too much, so Shannon, Lindsay and I bailed out. On the street they informed me that this guy was at the house party with Ross aka David Schwimmer. Being all to drunk, we headed toward Vaselka, but got distracted by a mattress on 1st Avenue. We had a bit of a laugh and the girls sent me south. Next thing I know, Perry was loose in my house and Builder was none too pleased.

Sunday was a bust. It was a Crock Pot kind of day since I couldn't get off the damn couch. Christie came over to keep me company for a bit, but for the most part it was a serious personal hang. Good looks Jay.

You know what? The weekend is a few hours away and it doesn't even feel like it. That's some shit. My legs hurt. I'm hung over. I'm crabby like an old man who didn't get his morning McMuffin. My face feels like it was beaten. To top it all off, I woke up in the living room with my pants unbuttoned and there wasn't even a girl in my bed when I returned to my room. God damn - what happened?

Well, the night went something like this: Get off work, Go to work, Get off work, Go get drunk. One thing that has to be clear - this isn't a complaint.

Last night was great. We had this theatrical punk metal band Avenge Sevenfold at Webster Hall. Apparently they mean something to a lot of kids because the show was packed and the crowd went completely bonkers. Sometimes those kids can be tough to deal with, but for the most part it was a mildly entertaining evening.

Sidenote: I want some Bonkers - can you still get them anywhere? They kicked the shit out of Starbursts.

Once the door closed, I hung out in the balcony with Shannon, Paul and Matt for a bit. Most of my time was spent trying to convince Paul to balcony dive onto the crowd. He may have even thought about it for a second. You can't really tell with those old school hardcore New Jersey kids. It took a second to convince Shannon to join me in on the start of the drunken trail, but she eventually joined me despite the need to be "professional", (*cough* lame *cough*).

Ok, I'm kidding, but around 10pm, Paul, Matt and I shared a club downtown as to not miss the We Are Scientists show at the Bowery. As I cruised into the back of the club a number of familiar faces popped up on the radar.

Shit, I just got hit with this terrible Friday afternoon project. This is going to have to be cut short. Big-Ups (yes, I use that term) to all the folks at the Bowery for getting me wasted, and Word-Is-Bond to all the folks I ran into. There seemed to be piles of friends at the show last night. Good looks.

Oh yeah, the bands were great too. Now we just need Ambulance Ltd to put out a new record and we'll be all set.

Well, last night wasn't the "night off" I had hoped it would be. Instead it was a drunken romp around the neighborhood with friends and new foes. The evening started when I went to meet Johnny Shitrocket at The Library for a couple of post-work drinks. He wasn't in the bar, but guess who was - Greg! And Greg is always out of control awesome so it was a great run-in. He humored some drunken dude named Giles who explained that he'd been drinking since 10am. This explained his sloppy drunk demeanor and his relative difficultly with the pronunciation of the English language. At some point a guy came up to the bar and began to talk with this Giles fellow. Then Giles bought the dude a shot of whiskey. At this point I realized it was Anton from The Brian Jonestown Massacre. He was totally out of control, and just as I imagined him to be in person - a completely intense loose canon. Eventually he felt challenged by Giles who didn't know better and said the wrong thing to Anton which prompted Anton to put him in a headlock while threatening to burn his eyebrows off.

Somewhere in this shit show, Shitrocket walked in, grabbed a Bud and sat back with me to enjoy the show. Greg was no help as he continued to try and convince Giles to go outside and accept Anton's challenge to wrestle him. Eventually one of Anton's crew came over and persuaded him to step out front for a smoke. The situation was diffused or so it would seem. Giles realized that a portion of his eyebrow had been singed and wanted blood. The poor guy could barely stand up, and to reiterate, he didn't realize the character he sought to provoke was a bit intense - to say the least. So off went Giles to give Anton some more shit.

In the matter of a couple cigarettes a scuffle ensued. Beach and I saw it from the window and quickly popped outside to find Anton climbing off Giles. Giles rolled around on the pavement for a few minutes before Greg and Anton helped him up. Anton's friend told us that Giles made a move at him so Anton took him to the ground and rubbed his face on the cement. We both laughed in disbelief, but it seemed all to familiar after watching DiG! a few times. Giles cried a bit of Victim River and started to get pissy again, but thankfully Greg got between the boys. Anton was ready to hurt the kid. The bartender came outside to persuade Giles back into the bar while Anton yelled something about him suing Anton.

Once Giles was out of the picture, Beach and I got a first hand account of the wonder and amazement that is the spectacle of Anton. He wouldn't stop bitching about how he dinged up his binoculars in the scuffle until his friend handed him some tobacco to roll one up. This is when he told us that all guys hate him because he writes love songs for a living. He also made some comment about the Chinese, but I can't remember the context. A lot was said about ass kicking and then he commented on how he sharpened his finger nails so he could bring "Panther Style" to any of the dudes who fuck with him. Anton showed me his hand which looked a bit mangled, but well groomed. He wanted to "tattoo" all the fuckers out there with a wolverine style face slash. Anton proceeded to run his nails across my hand to prove he wasn't fucking around - I assure you he wasn't. At this point we tried to calm everything down, and retired to the end of the bar where Tumbleweed and Lucy set up camp. Kreegan showed up with tickets to the gun show so after a couple of beers and some conversation I returned home with a healthy buzz.

Christie was supposed to meet me around 8:30pm for a quick bite, but she ran super late so I got enthralled by Eddie Murphy's Distinguished Gentleman. After a space out, she called from around the corner so I went down to meet her. It was nearly 9:30pm so we decided to skip dinner in an effort to keep our collective buzzes rolling. At Nora's request we popped into Fat Baby to indulge in the 2 hour open bar. In the hour and a half we were there, I must have slugged six drinks which is a lot on a Wednesday. We caught up with Jerry, Angela and Kevin throughout the course of the night. By 11pm we were both tossed which prompted us to pull the plug. It would be better to battle on another night.

A quick note about the new club - Fat Baby - it's quite fancy, but without all the pretension. It looks and feels like a lounge (read: a place for Hawkins to hang his hat), but it has enough downtown edge to avoid the curse of Libation or some other shitbag environment. From the outside its very unassuming, but once you are inside, the room has a very warm inviting feel. Patrons walk into the bar area that has long bar on one side. Once you make it past the bar area, you can either step down into a lounge area with black leather couches and stools or step upstairs to an open balcony with the same style furniture. The first level's wood floors smell wonderful which lends the joint a homey feel that is sure to be snubbed out over time by poaching smokers. On the opposite side of the balcony rests the DJ equipment which I understand comes standard for the real and fake (read: Jay Good Times) disc jockeys. The best part about the balcony is the red carpet that reminds me of a seedy casino or a snooty hotel. The show room is in the basement along with the super cramped rest rooms, (a hipster could barely pull off oral in one of those things). The room doesn't lose any of the class that characterizes the upstairs (sanz the concrete floor), and it even has a smaller bar and ample seating. The bands play at the far end of the room surrounded by what looks like an amped up system. I don't know which band we saw, but they sounded good besides the volume being turned up way past anything mildly dangerous. All and all I was really impressed by the decor and the general feel of the club. Kudos to the brains behind the operation.

It's once again time for the 3rd Annual Ace Fu Chinatown BBQ at the Delancey Lounge, and we here at Loose Record are psyched to be a part of the madness. Loose will be giving away some Halloween gift bags and a heap of cupcakes hand crafted by the always lovely and often death obsessed Madam Xtina. Here is all the information tightly wrapped for your (read: her) pleasure:

The legendary Ace Fu party that spawned a thousand Missed Connections returns to The Delancey this year on Thursday, October 27 for a third year of madness. Here's the rundown:

FREE ADMISSION!!!!!

MICHAEL LEVITON - 7:30
THE A-SIDES - 8:30
PRIESTESS - 9:30
MAN MAN - 10:30

Free hot dogs, burgers and veggie dogs 7-8 PM.
Free Red Stripe 9-10 PM.
$4 beer all night.

Draw the Ace Fu logo on your arm OR come in a costume and get a free raffle ticket to win a prize from Neighborhoodies, Stop Smiling Magazine, Solid PR, Loose Record and more! Katrina Benefit Raffle.

Special guest DJs Art from WPRB and Tai from Ace Fu.

Shotgun shifts are the absolute worst. After what felt like a long day in the office, I returned home and began pounding through some loose work with PTI and Sportscenter providing the background muzac. Around 7pm I received a phone call from an unrecognizable 212 number. Normally I screen these calls, (as evident by Dana's "STOP SCREENING MY PHONE CALLS" message an hour earlier) but the number looked vaguely familiar. It was Jen from the Bowery wondering why I had yet to arrive at the club for a shift. I frantically wondered whether or not it was supposed to be me while searching through emails for Noah's correspondence. Once the email was found, it was clear that I was supposed to cover the Martha Wainwright show so some clothes were thrown on (our house is a sauna) as I dashed out the door.

After a million apologies and some quick prep work, we opened doors and I settled in for work. The entire evening was spent with one eye on the clock and constant anxiety in regards to the Wolf Parade set time. The shift was pretty easy and the Martha camp was filled with nice folks so a minute or two before 11pm we closed down and I once again darted to the street in the direction of the Northsix.

Thanks to Dana, who didn't give up on me by selling her extra, and Ian who helped expedite my entrance into the show room. Fortunately I wasn't late; in fact I arrived a bit early. After a quick catch up session with Zeina, I made my way into the crowd where a one Mr. DJ Del was spotted. He was with the overly excited Dana, Rachel and Lauren who gave consideration to following DTL and Stefan up front, but stuck close to the bar with the rest of us. They rubbed my starving nose in tales of the delicious dinner they had at Mo Pitkens while we waited for the band leaders.


Around 11:15pm Wolf Parade took the stage and indulged us with practically the same set as the night before. There was one exciting change but I'll get to that in a minute. For me, last night was better than the Bowery's show simply because the vocals sounded fuller; more pronounced. This made the band's already solid stage presence seem backed by full blown, well deserved confidence. From the minute they kicked things off with "It's a Curse" until they closed (yet again) with the reflectively somber "Dinner Bells", Wolf Parade had me eating out of their hand like a goat at the petting zoo. Maybe I was just happy to make it on time. Maybe they did sound a bit better. Maybe I was just stoned at the Bowery show. Maybe I wasn't getting picked on the whole time for wearing a trucker hat. Either way, last night's show beat out Monday's if only by a narrow margin.

Yes, captain clanks was banging around his toys last night, but it didn't seem to bother me as much, especially when he rocked out on his guitar at the end of "Dinner Bells". My favorite tracks from last night's set were "We Built Another World" and "Shine a Light" along with the same closers from the previous evening, "This Heart's On Fire" and "I'll Believe In Anything". The icing on the whole two-day Wolf Parade affair was their inclusion of "Disco Sheets" from their first, self-titled Sub Pop EP. The angular guitars and four-on-the-floor goodness kicked off a three-song encore that concluded with the aforementioned "Dinner Bells".

Following the show we ran into folks like Dave, Jeff, Gabby, Christie and Mia, but my mind was focused on getting some dinner. Del, Rachel, Dana and I split a cab back to the L.E.S. Gretchen, Dee and Kyle were packed up and ready to leave 186. I begged them for some food, but settled on a petrified pita and some unmarked humus. Tonight's dinner better be amazing, no matter what gets thrown in my belly.

New Club Alert!!!

There is a new club opening in the heart of the club central and its called Fat Baby. Ms. I Rock I Roll is doing the booking at the club and tonight she is inviting the hip and elite (read: everyone) to check out the space. Here are the details from her email:

We are kicking things off this week with a huge party TONIGHT, featuring an OPEN BAR from 9-11. *** ALL WELL DRINKS will be FREE FOR TWO HOURS ***. And trust me; the upstairs bar is big enough that you will have NO PROBLEM getting served (over 30 ft long)!

Downstairs tonight we also have two NYC bands playing, Squid (9:30) and Aloke (10:30), and upstairs DJs Alex English (One Louder), Rob (Morning Theft) and the girls of On The Pull will keep you rocking.


I will now attempt to do the unthinkable; go three blog posts without mentioning anything about Wolves or Parades.

A few weeks after the dust settles from The Bowery Ballroom's Sufjan Stevens Hurricane Relief show, the Bowery Presents gets set to announce another show to support the victims of Hurricane Katrina. This time the benefit will take place at Webster Hall and will feature The Secret Machines and TV On the Radio. This show should have no problem selling out and with the ticket price at a mere $25 (that's cheap for a benefit and this caliber of talent) you should get your tickets quick. Here are all the details:

Hurricane Katrina Benefit Show
Featuring The Secret Machines
& TV On the Radio
Bowery Presents @ Webster Hall
Thursday, December 1st, 2005
$25 (tix on sale noon tomorrow)

*****************

P.S. Did anyone hear Dirty On Purpose on Laguna Beach last night? The funny thing is that I don't watch the O.C. style show, but Oveis IM'd me this morning to let me know he saw it. Hmmmm... Oveis, is there something you want to tell us? If you want to see them live this Thursday at the NYU show with Wolf Parade and Honey Brothers, might I suggest you hit up MacDougal or Bleeker Street to go searching for co-ed's with extras.

Let me start this post off by saying I'm sold or I have been sold for quite some time on the ability of Wolf Parade. Sure, you can call them Modest Mouse Jr. if you want to be a dick about it. There are portions of their style that come with the obvious nod to Isaac Brock, but they do manage to veer into their own territory most of the time, (except when they do... gulp... step across the kick ball line and onto Arcade Fire's towering composition). All this being said (read: easiest comparisons in the book), the album has received nearly 5 spins a week since it was passed down to me. So I'm a big fan of what they've accomplished on their first record. I've also resigned to the fact that I'm part of the hype machine that perpetuates the overly enthusiastic love for the next big thing.

So let me say this: last night's show at the Bowery Ballroom was great if only because I finally got to see Wolf Parade perform the songs that have been the soundtrack to the last couple months of my life, (since I was out of my head at the CMJ show). They were loose and rocked out, but here are the top five things that I didn't enjoy about the Wolf Parade show:

1. At times the vocals were difficult to hear. I don't know if this was the fault of the house or the band. It sounded as though more pronounced album choruses got lost in the mix and left me hearing my own voice instead of theirs. In fact, the entire mix could have been up a bit, but it was at a comfortable level.

2. Why does the lead singer tell us he's drunk? It seems like an insecure disclaimer. Don't worry about being drunk dude! We want you to be wasted. We want you to be sloppy, but goddamnit we don't want to know about it. Leave it to the imagination. Yes, he did comment on how the bloggers said that they thought it was lame of him to mention it at their CMJ show which makes me think he reads Central Village.

3. Why won't you play "Grounds for Divorce"? Can you please tell me the story or at least give an explanation. Maybe you are sick of people calling out the name to their favorite song, but you've played NYC three times in the last couple months and you refuse to play a song that is undoubtedly on the list of many fan's favorite Wolf Parade songs. Is there something up with the production? Did Isaac have too much to do with it? If you are going to dump it, at least give us a reason... please!

4. The fifth member of Wolf Parade is definitely my least favorite. While the dude who rocks mad skills on the Theremin could stand to not play one handed airborne keyboard, this fifth guy (is he officially in the band?) simply bangs on all sorts of percussion with a sloppy conviction. Doesn't it drive the drummer made? His hammering on bells, tambourines and chimes all seem a bit off time. One thing is for certain; he can really wear that guitar well.

5. Wolf Parade's two-song encore ended with "Dinner Bells". While I certainly enjoy this song, my expectations for a big rock finish were crushed. It was like getting worked up for an earth shattering orgasm only to have your partner run out of the room seconds before, but then they return to cuddle for a couple minutes leaving you with some left over pent up aggression that now searches for an unhealthy release, (read: vodka). Please-Please-Please be a rock band tonight at Northsix. Take us out with some "Disco Sheets" since you didn't play it last night.

Honorable Mention: The drum fill that ushers in the song "Shine a Light" could have been tighter. It's my favorite drum part on the record; (both with its placement and simplicity) so I was hoping it would sound spot on.

Ok, don't get me wrong. I do still love you Wolf Parade. You are one of my favorite bands of the year. Thanks for playing tracks like: "We Built Another World", "I'll Believe in Anything", "You Are A Runner", "Dear Sons and Daughters", It's a Curse", "Fancy Claps" and thank you-thank you-thank you for playing "This Hearts On Fire". As Wolf Parade continues to hone in on their talent, they are sure to reach the next level sooner than you think. I'm going on record to say 2006 will see Wolf Parade at Webster followed by Wolf Parade at Nokia / Roseland. Let's hope they hold it together.

And before I forget... Kudos go to the Sub Pop crew who were jammed up at the front of the stage and yelled, "Shit on my pussy" or something in that crude nature that forced the band to repeat it and give an all around, "What the fuck?".

Last night the NFL season went from bad to worse for the New York Jets. It was a pitiful game to watch, but thankfully my frustration was shared with fellow Jets fans and one Eagles fan. Our quarterback sucks. Vinny Testaverde has been in the league for nearly 20 years and he still can't protect the ball. If you ask me, and most don't, Herm should play Brooks Bollinger just to find out whether or not the kid has the aptitude to hang in the pros. They are wasting their time with the old dog that should be put out to pasture. This brings me to another point - its time for Herman Edwards to also go the way of Old Yeller. Perry said it best, "He isn't a coach; he's a cheerleader". The Jets need someone who can control a game, and Edwards has proven year in and year out that he doesn't exude this quality. We are now picking new teams to root for this season. Beach is obviously gone full on Birds since they are in a tight race in the ultra competitive NFC East. Perry has joined forces with Kyle and is now on team Seahawks. Personally, I'm a bit on the fence. The Giants are playing good football and I'd certainly enjoy seeing them come out of the division that contains the Cowboys, Eagles and Redskins, but their defense sucks and that is my favorite part of the game. So unless the Jets step it up, my interim team for the 2005 season is going to be the Chicago Bears because of their nasty D anchored by middle linebacker Brian Urlacher, (my apologies to Dana for rooting for a team in the Packers division). If Kyle Orton can slowly learn how to run an offense while the defense stays strong, the Bears have a chance to win that division with a 9-7 or 10-6 record. Da Bears!

Ba Ba Ba Ba... No one thought it was humanly possible, but following this weekends 48-hour long shit show, I'm more banged up than last Monday. With my body screaming for more than six hours of sleep, I took on the weekend with reckless (read: stupid) abandon only to emerge with more bruises, more aches and definitely more pains. One thing remains clear; it was totally fucking worth it.

Friday kicked off with a stop by The Library for a couple carbombs with Perry, Sarah, Gigs and Beach before heading to Juanita's for margarita's and nachos with Erin, Leah, Perry, Dee and Gretchen. We finished dinner and returned to 186 for some serious pregaming for the Rapture show. What I failed to realize was that we were nearly shit-tossed by the time Perry and I hit the streets in the direction of the Bowery.

We managed to get into the club about halfway through Cut Copy's set. The band completely blew me away. They were fun in the best kind of way. Their sound is a cocktail that is equal parts New Order and Daft Punk with a splash !!! (Chk Chk Chk) party attitude. The four Aussie boys pump out dance inducing electo-funk that reduces me to a club kid hungry for ecstasy and craving a some 3rd base action. Cut Copy was good enough for me to hit the merch booth in search of their CD and dammit that means something.

Following their set the back corner crew began to grow while Perry and I got increasingly more hammered. Thank god I wasn't as out of control as that gentleman. He sacred the poop out of anyone who came near that space. The kid is an animal, and on a night like Friday it was welcomed with a nervous smile.

The Rapture took the stage somewhere around midnight and completely slayed. The set began with a new track that instantly started the progressive neck breaking. Then they ripped into "Out of the Races" which was the first song I'd ever heard by the Rapture. The set was a decent mix of the new and old so thankfully the new songs pick up where Echoes left off. They tended to have thicker bass lines, but they certainly spotlighted the loose dedication to the formula attached to the name. The Rapture broke out the requisite "House of Jealous Lovers", but my personal highlight (and number one all time Rapture song) "Echoes" had me freaking out LCD Soundsystem style. My neck is still killing me a few days later.

After the show (both the Rapture and the Ian Perry show), Kelley and I spilt for 2A to have a drink or two before calling it an evening. The next morning Perry called around 12:30pm to cry me a river about how he was hurt and embarrassed. At this point I invited him over to watch the Notre Dame vs. BYU game, but a few minutes later I got a call from Erin with whom brunch plans were made. On my way to the subway I called Perry to let him know what happened before I hopped on the F Train. Unfortunately the F Train was fucked and it dropped me off on Jay Street. Erin came down to pick me up, but while I waited, Perry called to let me know he was at 186. Our lines got crossed and the funniest part was that Erin, Maggie, Matt and I ended eating at Katina's which is in eye shot of Noah's place were Perry currently lives.

Later that afternoon, Erin drove us back to my house where Perry, Andrew, Kyle, Hutch (the dog) and I watched Notre Dame beat up on BYU. Did anyone else see Brady Quinn's inspired performance? Dude threw for six touchdowns and 467 yards. That is a monster game. By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, I had to head out for the Mike Doughty show at Webster. After the shift, Beach and I cruised back to 186 to pick up some reinforcements before we headed to Magician to celebrate Shannon's 24th birthday.

As we rolled up the the bar Shannon was out front with her cousin Ang and a pile of other randomness that I probably met. After the greetings and well wishes, we tried to sneak inside for a drink, but the bar was crushed so we tried Johnson's which had the same problem. Then we headed to Local 138 for a couple drinks before returning to Magician to get down with the birthday folk and talk bizness with the good doctor. At some point Sarah, Kyle and I thought it would be a good idea to go visit Katie at Julep to take some carbombs. A pool game or two later and we were back on the trail toward Lotus to once again meet up with the birthday girl and her posse. The night began to turn gray as Kyle and I pushed each others drinking limits to the brink. Eventually the towel was thrown in and we went in search of grub.

Yesterday was a bit wash, but there was a massive amount of work that got done. After a funny shift at Webster for The Melvins and Jello Biafra show, I met Shannon and Ang at the super hip Stanton Social for a brief hang before I headed home to finish some work and pass out with my computer in my lap.

P.S. Tim Robbins came to see Jello Biafra. It was hilarious.

First off, let me point you to this week's edition of The Weekender at WOXY. You gotta love our shameless self-promotion.

Don't you love it when the weekend starts a bit early? This was the case last night. After a bit of a crazy night of work, I headed to the balcony to see some of Devendra's set and to buy Shannon a birthday drink. Both missions were accomplished. Shannon, Sarah and Daylen were in the balcony rocking to the hippy jams. Devendra Banhart had just invited someone from the crowd up to sing one of their own songs. This kid who looked not a day over 18 years old took the stage and rocked to the 1100 people still in attendance. He was extremely poised and though his song could get shelved in the douche rock section of a record shop you have to give the kid serious props for his unexpected rock session.

As I watched the big screen something dawned on me; Noah was singing a song. No, not Mr. Chernin, but Noah from The Pleased - one of my favorite San Francisco bands. It's great to see him playing in a big band, but does this mean The Pleased are no longer? You may remember The Pleased as the former band of Joanna Newsom. After a quick glance at their website, it appears that the band has gone on hiatus. Here's to hoping they continue make records as I'm in love with all of their songs. Anyway, the band brought the boogie on some big time Americana jam that I was told is on the new record. After that song my experience felt complete so a few of us hopped a cab to The Mercury Lounge.

We walked into the club and picked up a drink as Youth Group kicked off their set with the title track to their latest record Skeleton Jar. The band sounded solid minus the drums sounding a bit off, (as Ari pointed out). We managed to find Big and Lil' Beach in the back and we rocked to some of my favorite songs like "Drowned" and "Someone Else's Dreams". As they closed the set with "Shadowland", Sarah and the birthday girl cruised in to enjoy some post show drinks, (thanks Greg). The night and tequila shots quickly caught up to me. I had to bail out somewhere around 2am only to drunkenly dick around on the computer for an hour. Why do I do that?

So this might be the biggest piece of news I've ever heard. Buckle up and get ready for this one. Make sure you pick up your dry cleaning so you can look super sharp this Saturday at MisShapes. I'm not one to hit up the party (its been done a few times) and this will be no exception, but on Saturday all the folks who live to wear more headbands than Cobrasnake or more wigs than LastNightsParty will be throwing up Craigslist postings offering blowjobs to Thomas the Door Bitch.. This weekend the line will likely stretch down all the way down to the Holland Tunnel. The guest DJ will simply blow your dick off. If this is true - and from what I heard it is - y'all better get there really early. This Saturday night, the queen of Kabbalah herself will hit the wheels of steel at the infamous party. Bring tons of drugs, but don't offer any to the new mom - she might scold you. Yes, you heard me correctly - MADONNA is spinning at MisShapes this Saturday night. Who knew Paper Magazine photo shoots carried so much weight?

Thanks to the people who talk loud enough for other people to hear them. You never know who is listening. You should probably camp out tonight if you want any shot of getting in.

And P.S. this source is very credible.

Ok, there isn't to much exciting news in my life right now, so here are some things that should help get your through the day:

*** Brooklyn Vegan pointed me to the video for the Vice holiday single, "Do They Know It's Halloween" and it is fucking rad.

*** Productshop must sleep with Fab. He always has The Strokes' leaks on his blog before anyone else. I once saw Julians dick fall out of his mouth, but that is just a lie. I heart Jason and his endless hookups.

*** Yesterday I received an emailing announcing the WFMU Annual Record Fair. Last year DJ Del and I walked around for a bit and I purchased a Minor Threat live 7". We also took a minute to gawk at the over priced records Thurston Moore and Jim O'Rourke sold at their booth. After all the turmoil in Sonic Youth, I don't think they'll be doing that again this year.

*** Another email came thanks to Bidi (where have you been) announcing the WBAR Yacht Festival that starts today. Check their website for further information as its announced. Here are all the details (does Todd P do your emails?):

WBAR Barnard College Radio presents the very first WBAR YACHT CLUB FESTIVAL! The Festival will unfold in 3 rollicking installments :

[THURSDAY, OCTOBER 20th @ THE WEST END, $5 (2911 Broadway b/t 113th & 114th- subway: take the 1 to 116th) ]:
* 11:00 Calvin Johnson
**10:00 Old Time Relijun
*** 9:00 Talibam
doors open at 8pm, tickets only $5!! there will be cheap beer!!

[SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29th @ TBA]:
* 11:00 Jackie-O Motherfucker
** 10:00 No Things (ft. ex-Liars members)
*** 9:00 The Big Sleep
**** 8:00 Skeletons
***** 7:00 Stone House
doors open at 6 pm. tickets only $5!!

[FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4th @ BARNARD COLLEGE QUAD LOUNGE (3001 Broadway btw. 116th and 117th- subway: take the 1 to 116th st) ]:
* 8:00 Castione for the Painfully Alone
**9:00 Dear Nora
doors at 7:30 pm. tickets only $2!!

So it appears that The End of the World will play a FREE party at Scenic tonight for Wired which is this new service that alerts folks of secret, last minute showcases via tex message. Its going to be a late show, but totally worth your time if you aren't already running on fumes, (I certainly am). TheEnd of the World doesn't hit until 1am, but they urge you to attend as do I. Here are the details from Myspace:

The End of the World
w/ King of France & The IO's
Scenic (25 Avenue B, btw 2nd & 3rd)
Doors: 11pm

And in case you've forgotten; click here.

My formidable New York nightlife years were spent in one establishment. If you knew me during the collegiate years, then at some point or another we probably took a Jager shot and shared a pitcher at Grassroots Tavern on Saint Marks Place. Maybe we shared drugs in the bathroom. Maybe I brought you water as you puked in the urinal. Maybe we chased around the despondent Ringo, (resident pup). Or maybe we shared a back corner make out session. Either way, it was a safe bet that if you stopped by Grassroots on any given night between 1999 and 2002, (pre-Kyle ankle breaking Culkin incident) you would have found me or one of the regulars fumbling around with the jukebox, praying it would take our money.

Well, those days are finally over. If you recall, earlier this year I was thrown out of the bar by a new bouncer who didn't know my hall of fame status. Dan and I were dicking around at the bar and in a jokingly way, I slapped his face. Nearly instantly, the fucktard bouncer was pulled me out by the neck. Being an awesome drunk who didn't really care about much at the time, I gave him some serious shit. Told him to blow me and what not before he tossed me into the street. For the past few months I've employed a self-imposed boycott on the bar. There were evenings where Grassroots was the call, so I'd just pack it in and bro'down on a Frankie & Cheese.

Last night changed everything. After a hectic but successful My Morning Jacket show at Webster Hal, Builder texted me to inform me that the crew was at The Root. Figuring there is always a time to bury the hatchet, I stopped into the bar, (funny enough I ran into some of the old regulars on my way there). As I entered, the bouncer checked my ID and Maria came out from behind the bar to deliver a message. She told me I'm banned from the bar. That's right, no more Grassroot for Mr. Belin. I shook the hands of some friends and headed back to the street a bit confused, but wholly apathetic to the situation.

On my way home I couldn't help but think of all the business we paraded into that fucking dump. With that in mind I'd like to have a formal Peter Griffen style final send off to the bar: FUCK YOU GRASSROOTS! We had some good times, but if you are going to be pissy cunts so be it. Happy trails.

Yesterday concluded my four days off from shifts at Webster Hall and thankfully it ended with a bang. Now the crew is staring down the barrel of five shows in six days. It will be fine, but a bit trying. There is some solid talent coming through the club so that makes heading into work from work that much easier.

The evening started with a quick clean up of 186 as it was being to approach college status. Then Builder and I hustled over to Juanita's to have dinner with Jamie who is always super cool. Around 7:45pm I had to cut out to get uptown. A couple of trains and some brief yet confusing navigation under MSG landed me on the 8th Avenue and 33rd Street. On my way to the front of the Garden I ran into Dana, Kathy and Janet who were handling their business. Greg had rolled up to the venue at the same time so we cruised up to the will call window to deal with the inefficient, under enthused staff at MSG. After a spot of frustration, the tickets were in hand and we were on our way into the Theatre, (thanks for the hookup Dana - I owe you one).

Upon entry to the main lobby for the Theatre we ran into Lucy, Beach, Gigs, Tumbleweed and Mike who were all proprietors of the General Admission bracelet so we didn't chat long. Greg and I went to find our seats which were pretty amazing. I'd say we were 20 rows up, aligned straight on with the stage. TV on the Radio had already started their set, and after a couple of songs we decided beer was a bit more important. Don't get me wrong, I dig TVoR, but it's not necessary for me to see them. When I say 'dig' what I mean is there are a couple of songs that twist my knobs, but other than that, listening has never been a priority. They did play a punked up new song that the lead singer claimed to be 'bop', but it was just post-punk with some serious back up vocals. I was happy to see them displaying some balls, (insert Paul comment here).


We returned to our seats just as the lights dimmed and Franz Ferdinand prepared to rock out. The set began with a spotlight on the center microphone and some Neutral Milk Hotel playing through the house. A dapper Alex Kapranos strolled on stage, picked up a guitar and found his predestined spot under the light. He began the intro to the first track off their debut record, "Jacqueline" and the crowd began to stir. As he neared the finish the other three gents joined him and ripped through a rousing run through of the track. The lights came up on the stage to reveal a massive Franz Ferdinand banner behind the boys, (that would later revolve to show the new album cover and once more of their faces). There were also a couple stage risers; one for the keyboard which was used at various points throughout the set and a double stacked riser for the drummer. Greg and I couldn't stop commenting on how the entire visual experience was so damn likeable.

From there they went on to play a mix match of songs from both records that included (from the self-titled record): "Come On Home", "Michael", "This Fire", "Darts of Pleasure" and "Take Me Out". Some of the songs from their latest effort, the smashing You Could Have It So Much Better, included: "Do You Want To" (which was played awfully early), "This Boy", "I'm Your Villain", "The Fallen", "Walk Away", "Evil and a Heathen", "What You Meant" and the song that closed the evening "Outsiders". If you haven't made your way though the new record, you need to hear "Outsiders". It's probably my second favorite song on the record; my first being "The Fallen" which acts as the other bookend. During this song the additional musician (the fifth Ferdinand) hopped on the drum riser and started banging away. Then another gentleman got on one of the floor toms and started hammering away. It was an exciting end to a fantastic show.

We waited in the ridiculous lines for a couple of $7 dollar beers and returned to our seats as the golden boys of This leads me to a question that has confused me since the new record dropped. Why is there some sort of feeling clouding my love for Franz? I went completely super fan on the first record. It didn't take long. From the first day I bought the "Darts of Pleasure" single at Other Music for nearly double the U.K. price, my summer jam was solidified and it became clear they were one of my favorite bands. The problem is this effort was met with little fanfare or anticipation. Sure, I was psyched when the record was passed my way, but it took me a couple of days to unwrap it. Now that I've seen the tour its safe to say that this record is fucking outstanding, but the crazy love isn't there any more. I'll see them as much as possible, dance to them when a song gets spun and even try to tape their SNL performance this weekend, but I won't be one of those 5,000 screaming fans that nearly blew my eardrums out last night. I guess it's like a good relationship. Franz and I are past the honey moon stage, and we have entered the comfort zone. I'm praying the sex doesn't suffer.

After the show a crew of kids decided to roll down to the Tribeca Grand Hotel for the after party. We fucked up the subway stop and got lost for a bit, but eventually the club was found. We scored some bracelets and made our way downstairs where the room was nearly packed. Getting to the bar was a fucking mess, but I broke off from the crew in search of free booze. With some beers in tow, I looked around for any sign of my people, but had no luck finding a soul. As I made my way into the room with the beats, Nora saved me and pulled me over to her crew that included Paul and Audrey. We chatted and bobbed to the impressive beats and I even managed to find Lauren and Jason, but they were busy getting down so I returned to the post in front of the decks. At some point Jeff cruised up and we talked about Thanksgiving for a bit, before I realized Sons and Daughters weren't playing to 1am at the earliest. This signaled my curtain call, but after getting to Canal Street I realize my wallet had one big bill in it. No cab would change it so I set out to walk home. Luckily I noticed a text from Dana so I met her and Kathy downstairs. We proceeded to bumble around for a bit before Dana expensed a cab ride home. God bless people with cool jobs.

So its no secret that I'm a huge fucking fan of the Cribs so when I received word that they dropped off the Longwave Tour, I was a bit bummed to say the least. They were taken off the Bowery Schedule and my next Cribs experience had been stamped "INDEFINITE" - until now. The band just locked in Monday, November 28th at the Mercury Lounge. Ticket information has yet to be posted, but keep your eyes on their website. For now, here is the information I know:

The Cribs
November 28th
Mercury Lounge

Also, a quick note for those you considering a career change or just want to get back into academics, check out the Culkin School.

The outlook was grim. At 5:31pm I rolled into the Mercury Lounge, where the shitshow crew planned to meet and received a call from Mr. Builder. I-95 was a mess. The Holland Tunnel was fucked. He was stuck in stand still traffic on the Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel. As we sipped our to-go margaritas, Perry scrambled to come up with a plan for us to meet Builder in New Jersey, but it didn't work out. A few minutes later we sent the first caravan, that consisted of Sarah, Beach, Perry and Gig, on their way. Sarah took Perry, Beach and Gigs with her. They wished us luck and were on their way. Stevo, Christina and I returned to 186 to drink our sorrows away in the face of what appeared to be an improbable situation. The three of us decided that 7pm would be the cut off time. If Builder wasn't out front by then, we'd never make the show.

At 6:55pm Builder called to let us know he was on Avenue C getting gased up. We headed back out into the rain and piled in the car at 7:08pm. Time was against us, and we had to make a figurative flip of the coin: Verazzano or Holland? Josh claimed a 'business associate' who recommended the tunnel. When we hit Varrick Street we were pleasantly surprised as we got through the Holland in no time. The trip went relatively smoothly and Builder did an excellent job captaining the ship while Stevo, Christina and I got drunk on sippy cups of vodka and a flask full of tequila. We made it into Philadelphia at 10pm exactly which meant we had 15 minutes to get to the TLA. We found the hotel (on the second try) and hopped a cab to South Street.

As we rolled up to the club there were some requisite stops at the ATM before heading to the window to pick up our tickets. When we walked in the venue we could hear a giant call of "OVEIS" from the ballroom before My Morning Jacket struck the first note of "Worldless Chorus". We had arrived on time and it pure awesome (sorry Phoebe) fashion. The four of us found the bar, ran into Mark Filter and his lady Jen and naturally made our way to the back corner to join the rest of the shitshow crew that included Jersey Dan (thanks for everything), Oveis, Erin and Dr. Win(d)skill aka Wheat Thins. We settled in for an inspiring set by the southern rock masters.

My Morning Jacket did something I'm not usually a fan of, but on Friday it totally worked; they played their new record, Z, from start to finish. Some highlights included the spaced out jam of "Gideon", the Jimmy Buffet sing-a-long feel to "What A Wonderful Man", the fakie reggae jam of "Off the Record", the back water creepy carnival sounding "Into the Woods", the fist-pumping, head-banging inspired "Anytime" and the who the fuck is Lynard Skynard country-fried "Lay Low". Throughout the set we weaved to the bar and back. I must have slugged 100 vodka Red Bulls, but the tequila shots managed to balance out my overly hyper demeanor. They closed the set with the final track, a slow jam, "Dondante", but the room knew there was more in store. After a bit of coaxing The Jacket emerged from backstage for a six-song encore that was book ended by my two favorite songs from It Still Moves - "One Big Holiday" and "Mahgeeta". As the band finished up an impressive show, we couldn't help but bro'down in group hugs at our surprising success.

Following the show, the New York and D.C. crew congregated out front and gave Jersey Dan an elated ovation for helping hook up the evening. From there we headed a few doors down for The Pontiac where we chugged more tequila and booze while the DJ did his best to bring the DFA style tunes on the decks. In what could be the most impressive part of the trip, we gawked at a leather clad gentleman's flat top that could rival Vanilla Ice circa 1990. From there we cruised a couple blocks away to another bar that had the veneer as CBGB's, but it came with a couple pool tables. My night began to get hazy as Perry thwarted my attempt to pull a massive Belin by getting on a bus to return home. From what I can remember the next couple hours involved wrestling matches, Jim's cheese steaks, phone book fights, a terrible spill by yours truly, a Jersey Dan ejection and an attempt to pass out in the hallway. All in all it was an all star couple of hours.

The next morning I rolled over around 9pm and noticed the sky was blue so instead of staying in bed, I decided to check out a bit of Philadelphia. Sarah greeted me at the elevator so we figured it would be a good idea to bro'down on the continental breakfast. After finishing up we took a couple hours to stroll through the streets of downtown Philly. We saw their massive take on City Hall while trying our best to avoid the aggressive vagabonds. We made our way back to the hotel, woke up the crew, cleaned ourselves up and took off. Upon check out, Sarah learned there was a Chili's less than five blocks away so we played follow the leader through the streets. With a quick Chili's session, that included boneless wings, margaritas and some buffalo chicken salad, under our belt, we got in the car and hustled back to NYC.

Thank god our little detour didn't make us late for the Notre Dame vs. USC game; I would have tried to hurt Stevo which means my ass would have been kicked. Thanks to Michael who rolled out the red carpet for us. We arrived at his deck just in time for kickoff and he had already moved the TV outside, put a bunch of chairs out and filled a cooler up with beers. For the next three hours Perry, Matty G, Stevo, Beach, Gigs, Michael, Sarah, Christie and I watched Notre Dame keep up with the best team in the country. Unfortunately my heart was broken on the last 7 seconds of the game when USC's golden boy was able to twist his way into the end zone. 7 fucking seconds separated us from being national championship contenders. If we win out, Notre Dame has an outside shot at a BCS bowl, but I wanted the big dance. With Charlie Weis at the controls, it won't be long before we get that chance.

I immediately exited to go sulk in my bedroom. Beer and a big lose put me in a fowl mood, but thanks to Dana for rallying me to get out of the house. We stopped into Two Boots restaurant for some dinner and a bit of awkward banter with the waiter. After dinner we stopped by 2A to say hello to Peter and Jen while killing some time between our next programmed destination. Around 10pm we headed down to Lolita's to have a drink with Dana's friend Lauren. We proceeded to slam our drinks and make our way to the Bowery Ballroom for a set by Dungen. After all the proper hellos and quick catch up sessions with Merida, Mary, James and the rest of the crew, we nestled myself in the back of the room where Perry, Gigs, Christie and Beach were stationed. Unfortunately, I can't say anything real positive about the Dungen set. We stuck around for the first five or six songs, but the volume was way too low and their songs didn't seem to fill the room. It was all a touch of boring which is disappointed because I'm a big supporter of the record.

As midnight approached we ducked out of the Bowery to make way for the Mercury. The lazy boys tried to take a cab as the girls bounced out on foot. We had two different mishaps with two different cabs before we saw the Williamsburg Bridge coming right at us so we decided to tuck and roll. As we got to the back corner of the Merc, Jens Lekman had already begun his set. Let me tell you something - this boy rules. He has a velvet voice that sounds like how pouring a glass of chocolate milk looks - so fucking smooth. Now I'm not familiar with his material outside of "You Are The Light", but for an hour or so, I couldn't take my eyes off him and the collection of accompanying musicians. His songs are quirky, endearing and twinged with warm bossa nova pop goodness from the depths of Sweden. The band popped back onstage for an encore that included some ukulele solo action from the side benches in the showroom. As the night progressed, a day of the highest highs and lowest lows forced me into retirement.

Yesterday began with a Loose Meeting of the minds at 186. After the work, Builder and I headed up to some bar on 8th Street to decompress over a drink. The cutest bartender named Brandi chatted us up while I sipped through a glass of Knob Creek. On my walk back home I picked up Perry and Beach for the Jets' game. Vinney and the crew looked like garbage and furthered my thinking that we are in desperate need for a starting quarterback. A couple hours later I made my way to Shannon's house for a bit of pregaming with her, David James and Ari. We dicked around waiting for the right time to head over to B.B. Kings for the Faint show.

We slipped past the ridiculous security at the club around 10pm. The room was just as I remembered it, except this time it was adorned with more Camel ads than an issue of Playboy. We picked up a $10 well drink and made our way to stage right where we found Perry, Mark and his friend Trisha. Some lounge act called Johnny Flavah and The Broken Hearts (that name isn't even close) opened the show with campy renditions of the Darkness among others. Their set ended with the lead singer in a gold g-string with his junk drapped all over the sold out crowd. It was tasteless, tacky and pretty hilarious.

Enough of the juicebox antics; we were ready for The Faint. The Omaha quintet played a rousing set that had me going balls out nuts for a good ninety minutes. I hope Shannon isn't too scared of me after my mild freak outs. The set included tons of hits from all of their albums. This list isn't near complete, but these songs were definitely played:

From Blank Wave Arcade: "Call Call" & "In Concert"

From Dance Macabre: "Your Retro Career Melted", "Glass Dance", "The Conductor", "Let The Poison Spill" & "Posed To Death".

From Wet From Birth: "How Could I Forget", "Erection", "Birth", "Desperate Guys" & "Disappear"

They closed their set with what might be my two favorite Faint songs: "Parnoiattack" and "Worked Up So Sexual". The crowd wasn't anywhere near satisfied so the band provided a long encore that concluded with "Dropkick the Punks" and "Agenda Suicide". We were a bit sweaty, a bit drunk and completely satisfied. The Faint rocked something fierce. Again, the volume could have been kicked up a few notches, but the performance stood alone. They continue to impress me and are hands-down one of the bands that would be on my superbill. They claimed they'll be back next year so make sure you are ready to purchase tickets as soon as the news leaks.

Shannon, Perry and I finished the night at Stanton Social Club where here friend Warren was slinging drinks and his lady Megan (I think) was DJ'ing. I was psyched to hear Megan reply, "Well, I'm playing CD's," when asked if she was DJ'ing. That is always my response because lord knows I couldn't DJ my way out of an empty club. The night grew late and the weekend finally caught up to me. It was all she wrote, and goddammit, this weekend she wrote a lot.

Thanks to anyone who suffered through this gigantic post. And happy birthday Lucy! Thanks for your hard work.

So Sticky-Stan is coming back from Iraq in less than 10 days. I can't wait to have Trevor come visit the city for a couple weeks to hear his stories and help him decompress. The kid deserves a TV show. Someone sign him up. This morning (tonight for him), I received the first installment of the countdown. This is what email read:

10

In 10 days we’ll be getting to Kuwait
With 10 days left, I can’t wait
Im 10 times 10 on a scale of 1-10
In ten days I won’t be able to count to ten
Adrenaline pumping with the strength of 10 men
Heartless you could call me the 10-man
In 10 days my girl is gonna call me the 10 second man
Today Alcohol is contraband
In 10 days it will have to be surgically removed from my hand
In 10 days Im gonna be a rock star and I don’t have a band

All I've gotta say is, Stan, you rhymed Kuwait with wait? You are so fucking out of practice. You better step it up. You can't leave rap alone; the game needs you.

It's no secret that Voxtrot is one of Loose Record's favorite bands. Since Jinners put us on the campaign trail, we've dutifully spread the word of this Austin quintet. We even had the boys come through our party during the CMJ Marathon (though it wasn't a CMJ show). From there the love affair continued. The next day we went to the SESAC party at Rothko to catch their afternoon set. Later that evening Jared (keys) and I tooled around the city. What I'm trying to say is that our love for Voxtrot extends beyond the regular praise we heap on bands. We generally enjoy their music and think they are super kids. For this reason we were psyched to find out they are returning to NYC for a show in early December. Here are the details:

Wednesday, December 7th
Voxtrot @ Mercury Lounge
$TBD / 21+

(photo via SPIN)
As some of you have undoubtedly already seen on Brooklyn Vegan, Wolf Parade and Dirty On Purpose have booked a show at NYU's Eisner Lubin Auditorium on October 27th. Upon hearing this (and telling Dana), I took off for the box office to purchase my two tickets. No one at the joint knew what I was talking about until the boss lady came back from lunch and dug out the memo on her desk. She informed me that tickets won't go onsale until Wednesday (she thinks). Brooklyn Vegan was right, they will be $6 advance (two tickets per NYU ID) and if there are any left they will be $8 day of show (she said as many as you want, no ID required). So if you were left out of the both shows and are dying to get a glimpse I'm here to trade sexual favors, dinner, bottles of imported wine, tickets to Jets games or anything else you are willing to barter for some tickets.