I am feeling better! And no -- I am not about to give up sushi anytime soon, either Does anyone here dig the Lilys? The new Lilys album Precollection, out May 20, is for the most part fucking fabulous. Theyre touring with the Swirlies in May in a bit of early 90s shoegaze nostalgia thats one part groovy and one part too obvious to be that groovy...
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Speaking of rock shows I posted in a thread last night about "best" rock shows I ever saw, and then I was thinking about "worst," when I also thought of "best worst"... Dig it -- LONG-ASS POST AHEAD:
The scene is a moon-less Saturday night in late September, 1991, and you're inside a storefront performance space off of Manhattans Avenue B. The East Village is not the burned-out Mad Max scene of 1978, but it isnt anywhere near the Epcot Center for hipsters that it is today; you could still very easily buy heroin on the street and cocaine in bodegas back in 1991. (Ahhhh, the good ole days!)
Inside, the place is packed to the gills with friends and friends of friends of friends. They're the kind of people who dress much better than you do. But since they recognize you and so-and-so said you were cool, they'll let you give them a sip of your drink, and chat them up before the show. This band starts playing and it's a terrific loud mid-tempo wah-wah dirge, more punk than grunge, more inept than not, yet studiously so, with lots of screaming on top: more than a little like the Stooges. Their name is Dungbeetle and the sound is big, beautifully rockist, primal, urgent--all those good things that rock music can be, but so frequently is not.
This band's got a gimmick--the singer is standing at the edge of the stage (as far as this Gargoyle Mechanique place even had a stage) dressed like Evel Knievel. He's screaming into his mic, which is shoved all the way into his mouth. Then he pulls the microphone out and loudly preaches about secular humanism and a "blow hole." His stage manner is reminiscent of Lux Interior's performance in the film "Urgh!: A Music War," or Darby Crash in the first "Decline" movie--the total punk rock insane persona.
Then things get weird. Sideburns dripping with sweat, the burly frontman advances toward the person in front of you, the club's one spotlight bouncing off his silver body suit, arms stretched out to his sides, with a look that could be interpreted as rapture or menace, maybe both. He walks through the audience and at first people are laughing at him, then they catch that look in his eyes, and get the fuck out of the way, quickly.
"Like Andy Kaufman fronting Black Flag" I described them for my fanzine, at the time. All of a sudden the gig shifts into melee mode: some girl's nose gets smashed; the upstairs neighbors turn on a hose and water starts seeping in from the ceiling onto amps and people; the cops show up; the music stops way too soon; and the mic is broken. The cool artsy, anarchist promoters are all of a sudden very uptight folks.
The band will break up soon, victims of the usual stuff: infighting, drugs, etc. Odds are you've never heard of the band; they had one seven-inch single packaged like a bag of dope. But people still talk about this show to this day same way folks who saw the Jesus and Mary Chains first shows in the mid 80s will talk about them (so short 10 to 20 minutes they started riots!)
So do you have a similar story?
* A performance that went horribly wrong in a good or bad way?
* Or a date that went wrong? I love bad dating stories thats so much of the fun of watching those dating shows, you know?
* PS That singer was/ is author Sam Lipsyte; hes a good writer.
* PPS -- Anyone that actually made it this far? Gold star for you. And a
-----------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of rock shows I posted in a thread last night about "best" rock shows I ever saw, and then I was thinking about "worst," when I also thought of "best worst"... Dig it -- LONG-ASS POST AHEAD:
The scene is a moon-less Saturday night in late September, 1991, and you're inside a storefront performance space off of Manhattans Avenue B. The East Village is not the burned-out Mad Max scene of 1978, but it isnt anywhere near the Epcot Center for hipsters that it is today; you could still very easily buy heroin on the street and cocaine in bodegas back in 1991. (Ahhhh, the good ole days!)
Inside, the place is packed to the gills with friends and friends of friends of friends. They're the kind of people who dress much better than you do. But since they recognize you and so-and-so said you were cool, they'll let you give them a sip of your drink, and chat them up before the show. This band starts playing and it's a terrific loud mid-tempo wah-wah dirge, more punk than grunge, more inept than not, yet studiously so, with lots of screaming on top: more than a little like the Stooges. Their name is Dungbeetle and the sound is big, beautifully rockist, primal, urgent--all those good things that rock music can be, but so frequently is not.
This band's got a gimmick--the singer is standing at the edge of the stage (as far as this Gargoyle Mechanique place even had a stage) dressed like Evel Knievel. He's screaming into his mic, which is shoved all the way into his mouth. Then he pulls the microphone out and loudly preaches about secular humanism and a "blow hole." His stage manner is reminiscent of Lux Interior's performance in the film "Urgh!: A Music War," or Darby Crash in the first "Decline" movie--the total punk rock insane persona.
Then things get weird. Sideburns dripping with sweat, the burly frontman advances toward the person in front of you, the club's one spotlight bouncing off his silver body suit, arms stretched out to his sides, with a look that could be interpreted as rapture or menace, maybe both. He walks through the audience and at first people are laughing at him, then they catch that look in his eyes, and get the fuck out of the way, quickly.
"Like Andy Kaufman fronting Black Flag" I described them for my fanzine, at the time. All of a sudden the gig shifts into melee mode: some girl's nose gets smashed; the upstairs neighbors turn on a hose and water starts seeping in from the ceiling onto amps and people; the cops show up; the music stops way too soon; and the mic is broken. The cool artsy, anarchist promoters are all of a sudden very uptight folks.
The band will break up soon, victims of the usual stuff: infighting, drugs, etc. Odds are you've never heard of the band; they had one seven-inch single packaged like a bag of dope. But people still talk about this show to this day same way folks who saw the Jesus and Mary Chains first shows in the mid 80s will talk about them (so short 10 to 20 minutes they started riots!)
So do you have a similar story?
* A performance that went horribly wrong in a good or bad way?
* Or a date that went wrong? I love bad dating stories thats so much of the fun of watching those dating shows, you know?
* PS That singer was/ is author Sam Lipsyte; hes a good writer.
* PPS -- Anyone that actually made it this far? Gold star for you. And a
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
ho-ly-crap!