Monthly Archive for July, 2004

The Magician and the Future Soundtrack for America

Published
by
Andy
on 7/26/2004
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What has happened since Friday…

You’ll never guess what I did on Saturday night. I went with Roxy and Mouse to a local bar and saw a band play! Isn’t that novel? Oh, yeah, you say. I’m getting sick of reading about bands, you say. Do something else, you say. Well, OK, I’ll get to that but first just hear me out. I went to a bar called The Saint to see The Damnwells play. We missed part of their show because we showed up too late. (I blame slow service at Applebee’s.) But I did get to hear them play two of my favorite Damnwells songs, so all was right in the world. After that was another mediocre band whose name I didn’t even bother to remember. We left before their set was finished. That was really about it for Saturday.

Sunday was another good day in the city. Roxy and I went just to kind of hang out. We went to the Apple store in SoHo. (Which, I was told, means South of Houston. And “Houston” is pronounced like “house-ton,” not like the city in Texas.) There’s also a NoHo. I think you can figure out what that means. Apple stores are these crazy places where it is more apparent than ever that Apple is just as, if not more, concerned with looking cool as they are with making quality products. The place is awash with white walls, misted glass staircases, unnecessary bridges, and products laid out to make them look more like art than computers. I can’t say I don’t dig it, but I do see through the façade.

After the Apple store, Roxy took me to this place called Urban Outfitters. It’s a trendy, hipster-type clothing store. A lot of the stuff is that kind of fashion that sticks around for a week or two, but they also carry some timeless stuff, like Members Only jackets. (They were asking $40. Roxy says just go to Salvation Army.) But I did find a couple of spiffy shirts, so be on the lookout for those. One other thing: Why does Bloomington get one of these trendy stores and Muncie doesn’t? Biased bastards…

After we left Urban Outfitters, everything in SoHo began to close up. It was Sunday night, after all. So we decided to find a nice place to find a drink and a snack. Roxy had heard of this place, Schiller’s Liquor Bar. They were reputed to have good French fries, and I must concur. They also made a really great Manhattan and mojito. The decor was cool, too. Lots of tile. Roxy said a friend spots Ryan Adams there all the time, but keen eye saw no sign of the asshole rocker. Oh well.

After Schiller’s, we walked around the block looking for another place where we could get an apple martini. We stumbled across this small, empty bar called The Magician. Turns out I’d heard of the place on Gothamist.com. They even did an interview with the bartender that we had. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to make us apple martinis, so I ended up just drinking rum and Roxy had gin and tonic. We also made use of the juke box, and even got a bonus song for some reason.

After The Magician, Roxy and I decided we should try to find the Cutting Room again. I’ve been to the place before. It’s Chris Noth’s bar. A nice place, and surely they could give us an apple martini. But alas, when we finally got there the place was closed. Before we even got out of the car, though, a homeless man approached us and began singing Stevie Wonder and Steely Dan songs to us. Then, of course, he asked for money. Fearing a scene, I decided to give him the five ones that were in my pocket. He seemed to appreciate it. I of course knew he would promptly go buy cigarettes or booze or some other homeless person necessity, but oh well.

Since we couldn’t get into the Cutting Room, we decided to walk around the block again and look for another joint. Three-quarters of the way around the block, we crossed paths with the same homeless guy, who, not recognizing us, began to sing us the same songs, while a fresh cigarette burned between his fingers. Awful jackass. It’s no wonder homeless people stay homeless. Then, of course, this other guy shows up who is introduced as the first homeless dude’s dad. At that point it was no longer amusing and kind of scary. They did recommend a bar for us to go to, though. And we thought “why not.” Unfortunately when we got to the place, called Walter’s, it was also closed. We were on Fashion Avenue, though, so we stopped in this sports bar called Mustang Sally’s and were able to acquire a yummy apple martini. So again, all was well in the world. This being our last establisment for the evening, we headed back toward the car and New Jersey. Good times.

This is kind of side note. Regardless of how you may feel about MoveOn.org, they are offereing a pretty cool CD of what I guess are protest songs by a bunch of notable artists. Check it out: The Future Soundtrack for America. Preorders available now!

Take care…

ON AIR: The Flaming Lips - The Magician Vs. The Headache

Philadelphia is also very cool

Published
by
Andy
on 7/24/2004
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Five days is not that long. I mean, really, I just wrote on Monday. And I haven’t really done much between then and now. Honest.

OK, I watched a couple of movies. Roxy recommended this bizarre love story, “Secretary.” It’s about a dominant/submissive relationship. I recommend it highly. I like it more every time I think about it. Plus it’s got James Spader, and he rocks.

The other movie we watched was this Japanese import called “St. John’s Wort.” The premice was this girl was using a house she inherited from her psycho father as location for a new video game her company was working on. The film was shot in a very video game-like style, and the plot was about as thin and rediculous as most of my favorite scary video games. It was a decent amount scary and gross, especially at the end when one person stabs out his/her own eyes with a big knife. (You know, a big knife.)

We actually watched “St. John’s Wort” first, but I thought I’d tell you about them in the order that I liked best. “St. John’s Wort” was made by people who had something to do with “Ringu,” so we thought it couldn’t be that bad. (You may be more familiar with “The Ring,” an American film that was based on “Ringu.”) I’m looking forward to seeing the latest one from those guys, “Ju-On (The Grudge).” Except, before I’d even heard of it they started remaking it, too, this time starring that one girl from Buffy.

THIS NEXT SECTION WRITTEN ABOUT 24 HRS AFTER THAT LAST BIT

Sorry for leaving you hanging like that. Talula was leaving work and I had to go with her. I barely had time to email myself the text you just read, so I could finish it later.

So where was I? Oh, yeah, talking about the remake of “Ju-On.” Blah blah Sam Raimi. Blah blah WHY CAN’T AMERICANS LIKE MOVIES THAT DON’T STAR ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLE? We’ll never learn.

OK, so it’s Saturday afternoon. I woke up pretty late today, so I’m posting this pretty late. Last night was fun. Let me tell you about it.

Last night was spent in Philadelphia, a city I’m beginning to like more and more. While there, I had a traumatic experience with a haircut. This woman, who runs this salon called Le Bomb Chele, comes very highly recommended by Talula and Mouse. I thought, “Why not? Maybe she can make even me look cool.” So I trusted her with my hair, which had grown to a considerable length. I told her that I liked having the length, and that I just wanted it trimmed up and cleaned up, maybe some layers, a little shaping. You know what I mean. As you are probably guessing at this point she cut off a lot more than I expected or really asked for. But I guess I had to trust her. She cuts a lot of rock stars’ hair. It’s not a bad cut. It actually looks pretty cool. But it’s a lot shorter than it was…

After Le Bomb Chelle, we went to this Italian restaurant whose name suddenly escapes me. It was very classic, though. The restaurant itself was pretty homey. Michael Corleone could have walked out of the restaurant at any minute and wacked the chief of police. It seemed like that kind of place to me. But the food was good. I had no complaints. And I wouldn’t have told anyone there if I had.

The real point of the trip, I suppose, was the show we went to after that. It was in a part of Philly that we seemed to have a little trouble finding, plus with Talula driving…

Anyway, we arrived just after one of the bands, The Starlite Desperation had finished their set. Talula was bumbed, because she had really wanted to see them play. Not that she particularly cared about their music, but she’d seen a picture of them on their Web site.

The next band to play was The Greenhornes. A very garage-rocky kind of band. They were quality performers. A little bit of a shoegazer type act, but their stage presence was strong. They had the stage lights turned off, so the only thing illuminating them was a light that was shining into the drummer’s big drum. They played well. Check ‘em out.

The last band was The Dirtbombs. They are apparently very important in the so-called Detroit scene. They were energetic performers, although their music didn’t really connect with me. They were fun to watch, though. They had two drummers on stage playing in tandem, two bassists, and one lead guitar and singer. One of the bassists had her instrument tuned very high, though, so it made for an interesting sound.

So the night was good, and I ended up liberating the glass my rum and ice came in when we left. It’s sitting on my desk next to my computer right now, serving temporarily as a change holder.

Man, it seems like all I ever post about anymore is the bands I’m seeing out here. It’s kind of cool, though. I’ve seen a lot of people since I’ve been out here. In my final post, I’ll try to list everyone I’ve seen and maybe give them a rating.

OK, I’ve got stuff to do. Take care…

ON AIR: The Greenhornes - Shame & Misery

Brooklyn was good to me this weekend

Published
by
Andy
on 7/19/2004
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Man, what a weekend. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

It started out like any other weekend; My Friday was uneventful. I watched “The Big Lebowski” and fell asleep on the couch. I needed the rest, anyway, because Saturday was going to be more demanding than usual…

After waking up BEFORE the crack of noon, I dressed, brushed my teeth, and prepared to go to Brooklyn. Roxy and I picked up J on our way, where we were to meet up with Mouse and Talula, and also my fellow Indiana intern Beef, who is at a paper in Long Island. We were to meet at Coney Island, for the Village Voice’s annual Siren Fest!

It was a good day. All in all, I saw 8 bands. Briefly, lets discuss each one.

The first band I saw was a bunch of guys who call themselves The Constantines. I wasn’t a big fan. They looked and sounded like a hipster indie rock band, except for the lead singer, who was trying to do his vocal impression of Rob Zombie. Plus the sound on the first stage apparently wasn’t very good, so we moved on. (Mouse a Talula were at the other stage, and they apparently felt the same way, because they switched and Roxy, J, Beef, and I saw them for only a few minutes during the actual festival. We moved on to the second stage…

…where we arrived just in time to catch a really good band called TV On the Radio. They had a artsy/indie/jazzy kind of sound that sounded pretty good from where we were, near the soundbooth. After they finished, we started to make our move toward the front of the crowd. At the end of the day, I got to touch the fence that seperated us “peasants” from the section reserved for the press and “elite.” However, that did mean standing in the same spot for 4 hours, completely surrounded by strangers who were pushing and generally standing too close to me, all under a hot sun. But we’re hardcore, so we stuck it out.

The next act was this crazy motherf*cker who calls himself Har Mar Superstar. I use that vulgarity because after every song the guy would scream to the crowd “Give it up for me, motherf*ckers!” Imagine a pasty white backstreet boy, 15 years older, 25 pounds heavier, with 3 times less hair, and twice as much attitude. You get Har Mar. He comes out on stage wearing skin tight red white and blue pants, and an equally patriotic leather vest complete with tassles all along the bottom edge. His dress harkened back to those late, great stadium rockers from a bygone era. He gyrated and pranced and danced all over the stage. As his set went on, he began removing articles of clothing, until he was down to his camoflauged underdrawers and white socks and shoes. His music was enjoyable. Nothing fantastic. He’s really a white rapper/rocker who sang over mostly pre-recorded music with a live drummer and bassist to back him up. Completely ridiculous, yet thoroughly entertaining.

What could follow such an act as Har Mar? Nothing less than Blonde Redhead. The group, comprised of one set of white male twins and a Japanese woman, makes decent art rock. It didn’t seem like the kind of music that would lend itself well to live music, especially energetic live music. And it was just that. The songs were good, the players were talented, yet it just didn’t rev you up like a good rock show should. But they were fun to watch. And it’s not often you see twins in a band together, one drumming and the other playing guitar. The guitar-playing one also sang, which makes me wonder if the other twin sings, too. Would they sound the same? Why does one twin get to sing while the other doesn’t? Do they ever trade places? Hmm…

Blonde Redhead was the last band to play before the headliner, Death Cab for Cutie, came on. Death Cab makes excellent records, but I was doubtful as the whether they’d be able to reproduce their sound in a concert setting, as the lead singer’s vocals are rather soft on most of their recorded material. They did very well, though. The first few songs seemed a little rough, but then they got in a groove and played an excellent set, finishing up with a killer encore performance of the title track from their current album, Transatlantacism. Worth standing around for.

That ended Siren Fest. But that’s only 5 bands, you say. What? You mean there was more rock to be had in Brooklyn that day? Damn straight!

We made our way to the west side of Brooklyn, to an area called Red Hook, to a club called The Hook. Mouse and Talula elected to end their day of rock and head back to Jersey. I had lost Beef in the crowd at Siren Fest. I hope he’s OK. Point being the group was back to Roxy, J, and myself. The neighborhood surrounding The Hook didn’t seem like the kind of place you’d find a hipster hangout, but then again I’m not from Brooklyn, so how would I know where hipsters hang out?

The first band, Moving Units, was already playing when we arrived. They were hard rockers, enough to make my ears literally hurt. But the drummer and lead guitarist were playing like they were possessed, or at least chemically possessed. The drummer in particular struck me as extremely talented. Good stuff. Might have to get their record when it comes out.

The next band that graced the stage was called Bad Wizard, and they certainly lived up to the first part of their name. Then again maybe they just didn’t sound good packed into a small bar-type venue. They played as a 5-piece, including the singer, who apparently just played tambourine. They were just loud. You couldn’t hear the vocals at all. Plus it didn’t sound like we were missing much in that regard. So after a couple three songs, the three of us decided to check out the outdoor patio area of the club for the remainder of Bad Wizard’s set.

The final band, the real reason we’d decided to extend our day in Brooklyn, was Ambulance, ltd. They are proclaimed (at least on the front of their record) as one of the best new bands of the year. You probably know they’re big hit, “Primitive (The Way I Treat You).” It’s getting some MTV play, I believe. If you don’t know it, go to their Web site, where you can download it for free. I wasn’t really sure what to expect of them. I didn’t know if they’d be anything besides that one really good song. But they really impressed me. They were talented, fun to watch, and as Roxy put it, unpretentious. They didn’t act all hipster-like and “cool.” They just played great music and had a real down-to-earth stage presence. And to be honest, the impression I got of them from listening to “Primitive” was totally changed. If they’re coming to play anywhere near you, I would highly recommend checking them out. I think they’re going to be big.

After Ambulance, ltd., there was another band playing. But seeing as we had accomplished our real goals for the day, and the Ambulance hadn’t even started playing until 1 a.m., we decided to head home. I certainly wasn’t dissappointed. Not sure I could have heard them over the ringing of my ears at that point anyway. Roxy says I need to get some earplugs.

So that concluded a freaking awesome Saturday.

Sunday was much less exciting, but still good. Roxy and I went to see “I, Robot.” All I can really say is “eh.” It’s got some great effects, but you can’t see any heart or seriousness in the movie because this big buffoon named Will Smith keeps jumping in the way with some stupid one liner. A word of warning: The film is LOOSELY SUGGESTED by the Isaac Asimov book of the same name, which I cherished as a youngster. So if you’re looking for that story, you won’t find it here.

Well, I think I’ve written enough for one day. If there’s anything I forgot that’s really important, I’ll just include it in my next post. Take care…

ON AIR: Nuttin’

Old 97s, the Bus of Justice, and Mr. T. Kicks Ass

Published
by
Andy
on 7/16/2004
in Log and Observations
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Just to touch on something that I talked about before, adding the words “of justice” or “of doom” to the end of any noun produces awesome results. Check out this story on Chicagoist.com: Bus of Justice. I’m all for anything called the Bus of Justice.

But you really came here to be updated on my tremendously exciting life. Right?

Wednesday was a good day. I had a decent day at work, but the real fun came AFTER work. Can you believe it? After work, I went home and watched some L&O (from the DVDs, mind you) and then went to a late show of Fahrenheit 9/11 with Roxy. Boy, what a movie. It’s not a great documentary. I mean, it’s basically images and words arranged to make Bush look like at idiot, maybe even a sinister idiot. But that’s not all it’s about. I was glad that Moore didn’t just spend an hour and a hald villifying the Bush family, although he did spend quite some time doing that. But there was another message: The war on terror is a failure, and it was carried out poorly. Now our soldiers are in harm’s way for what is probably less than pure reasons. Greed, even. Nothing in the film is untrue, but beware that it is skewed. Take Michael Moore’s crusade with a grain of salt. He’s an angry white man. But he does make good points, and the film is a thought provoker, and anyone who sees it and doesn’t have a second thought about voting for Bush this fall must be stapled to the wall on the Right. All politicians suck anyway. It’s all about perception. But enough politicking. The movie will keep your attention.

Thursday turned into a better day than it started out as. My day at work was a tiny bit stressful. There was this page that just wasn’t happaning. Everything I tried sucked. But anyway, you don’t want to hear about that. You want to hear about how I saw the
Old 97s.

After work, Mouse, Talula, and I went to this Thai restaurant called Far East Taste. It was a very homey place. It didn’t seem like much, but apparently it’s pretty popular around here. The food was excellent. I’d go back.

After dinner, Mouse and I drove down to Seaside to see the Old 97s at the Green Room, which is on the boardwalk. This was a pretty neat venue, because you could sit at the bar, see the band perfectly in one direction, and in the other direction look out the window and see the Atlantic Ocean. I’m going to miss places like that when I go back to the cornfields.

Before the show, Mouse and I walked up the boardwalk a ways and got some Italian ice. Italian ice is one of those “new” things I’d never heard of before I came out here. It’s kind of like a snow cone, but the ice is much finer. It’s more like sorbet, but quite so creamy. Mouse told me about her childhood at the boardwalks. These things have been around for a while. It’s kind of neat. It’s like tiny amusement parks hanging out over the ocean, connected by long wooden paths with shops and games and food all along them. I guess that would be a boardwalk.

The opening act was a guy named Charlie Mars and his band. He was really good, also. So good I decided to buy his record. I know some people back in Indiana who would probably really like this guy. Like people who may have just returned from and internship in Chicago. And boy, are you in luck! Because Charlie Mars is playing at Birdy’s in Indy on Thursday! If I were in Indiana, I would go.

The Old 97s are kind of a alt/country/rock band from Texas, and they play a variety of music, from country dities to balls-out rock. And Roxy really thinks the lead singer, Rhett Miller, is hot. He’s got a solo record out also, which I’m not yet familiar with, which he played a few excellent songs from during their first encore. So it was a fun show. Roxy even ended up with a the soundboard guy’s setlist, which she got some guys in the band to sign.

I ended up running outside to feed Roxy’s meter after the show, while she tried to chase down Rhett. When I tried to get back in, the bouncer said “no.” So I had to sit outside on a park bench looking out at the ocean. It could have been a lot worse. While I was sitting there, the bassist from the Old 97s, Murry Hammond, came out of the club and walked past me and down onto the beach. I watched him walk out there. He had a very satisfied step. When he finally reached the shore, he put his hands on his hips and just stood there. I thought to myself, “Surely he’s seen the ocean before.” But maybe he hadn’t. Or hadn’t in a while. He is from Texas, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t think he knew I was watching him.

Oh, you’re probably wondering when Roxy came into the evening. She just met us at the place after she got off work.

After all the festivities (and a speeding ticket on Mouse’s car), Roxy and I went back to the house. A good evening. And this weekend is (hopefully) going to be even better.

Mouse also showed me this Web site, Pollstar.com, which basically keeps track of most rock and other shows. Just type in a city or band or whatever. Very cool.

Also, I stumbled upon the most awfulsome Web site yet: Mr. T. Vs Everything. It’s basically a collection of Web sites detailing what would happen if Mr. T was in a contest with something else. There’s a whole bunch of them. Enjoy. And take care…

ON AIR: Low Flying Owls - Glad to Be Alive

Long delayed but not forgotten

Published
by
Andy
on 7/13/2004
in Log
. 0 Comments

Let’s see, what have I done since I last posted? Enough to warrant another post, I suppose.

Just go down to the bottom of the page and check out my hit counter. I just broke 1000. That’s one thousand unique hits, baby. Oh, yeah. And those three little letters “AOL” are the only advertising I have on this site, just so you know. (November 2 is not really advertising. I’m showing my support.)

OK, so on to the actual post.

Wait, one more diversion. There’s a story on the Onion about serial killer killings, and the dateline is Indianapolis. Kind of funny. Ha ha.

So Thursday…

Thursday was a good day. Work went pretty fast, especially since I left a little early. Then I went with a bunch of work people to this place called Union Landing to see off yet another employee at the paper who is moving on to bigger and better things. I hadn’t really planned on staying long, but people just kept showing up and buying me beer, so I ended up staying pretty late. Going away parties are always fun.

Friday was a blast. Damn. I should have posted on Saturday. Now it seems kind of old. But I’ll tell you anyway. Friday was the Little Steven Rockin’ Garage Battle of the Bands (brought to you by Dunkin’ Donuts) at the Stone Pony. Some of you older, Springsteen-obsessed folks will know Little Steven as a member of the E-Street Band. Some of you less-old, Sopranos-freaks will know him as a mobster from, well, from the Sopranos. Me personally? I really didn’t remember who he was until we got there. But it turned out he didn’t even show up. Some guy named Pete Best, who was in the Beatles or something like a hundred years ago, was there to judge, though. How sad is that? Your only real claim to fame is that you were “once” a drummer for the Beatles. And it wasn’t even when they were known. It was before they had even recorded anything of note. Psh.

So the bands there all pretty much buh-lew, except for a couple. But the best ones didn’t even win. The final winner (which was actually determined Saturday) was one of the bands that I thought particularly sucked, but they were from Asbury Park so they must have gotten home team advantage. I was disappointed. But the whole thing was fun anyway. Except for the unnerving presence of corporate sponsorship in the form of kids in logo hats and t-shirts handing out free iced coffee samples, courtesy of DD. I took one anyway, and the girl handing it out was nice, but it just felt, I don’t know, kind of icky. It’s like the whole “down-to-earth”-ness of the Pony was compromised. Like you could see the cash pushing through the thin threads of the facade. But maybe it was just me. I had a damn good time anyway.

After the Pony, we went to the Berkeley bar, to see Phil the bartender. We had a few drinks and talked and made faces at each other in reference to the crazy middle-aged folks that were “partying” in the bar with us. Enough with Friday.

Saturday:

Slept in. Got up, went to brunch with Roxy at the All Seasons Diner. We both had cheeseburgers and shared some fries covered in gravy and cheese. Nothing better. Then we went to see “The Terminal” at a nearby theatre. It was worth the price of admission. Nothing wrong with spending a couple of hours with Tom Hanks and Stephen Spielberg. Made a trip to Borders, where I picked up Hunter S. Thompson’s “The Rum Diary.” They’re making a film version, and I wanted to read the book first and see how the adaptation is. Later Talula and Mouse came over and we had some margaritas (Mouse’s made fresh!) and played some cards. Good times. A really good day, overall.

Sunday:

Slept in, got up, powerwashed Roxy’s back deck. That sucker looks awesome now. You wouldn’t believe the layer of crud that came off with just some high-powered water and a little bleach. It’s like a brand new deck. Actually looks like wood. It was kind of fun, too. Took almost 4 hours, but still fun. Then Mouse invited Roxy and I over for some barbecued food. A lot of food, really. Zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, chicken, hot dogs, even clams. I gotta say I’m not a big fan of clams. I think it’s the texture. So my Sunday night was good.

Monday:

Back to work. A pretty busy day at work, actually. So busy I had no time to post on this thing. But after work I went home and relaxed, played guitar for a while. I’m trying to learn “Folsom Prison Blues” by Johnny Cash. The actual guitar parts are pretty simple, now I just have to work on my timing and putting the “soul” into it. I’m trying to play it like Cash did, and he led with his thumb. Now my thumb is really sore.

OK, you’re up to date. I’ll be better this week. I promise. Take care…

ON AIR: The Polyphonic Spree - Have A Day