October 19, 2007
CMJ Day Three


I proceeded to bounce back into the city to catch another wonderful Canadian act at Webster Hall called Holy Fuck. They happened to be opening for UNKLE and so you can imagine how packed the place was. The gargantuan space was well-suited for this type of expansive electronic bashings. I expected to be blown away, but for some reason I got bored. I stuck around for a few songs and pined to continue my Canadian streak.



I was extremely disappointed to discover this overpopulated, miniature venue and thus I decided to check out yet another Canadian band called The Golden Dogs nearby. They played as a part of Yep Roc's wonderful showcase. The house was packed and there wasn't still head in the room. Everyone was rocking and bobbing along to their endearing Indie rock. The Golden Dogs contain all of these great Canadian elements that I relate to Broken Social Scene and AC Newman. Yet they incorporate some very distinct retro qualities, like front man Dave Azzolini's vocals, that make their music more distinctive. The singer had glasses that were about as thick as my dad's during the 70s. It brought me back, way back.
I thought I might see how things were doing over at the Blender Theatre because they've been holding late night Blender Sessions over there. Let me just say that Live Nation is a really screwy corporate devil. They weren't letting people in until 12:30 even though every single piece of information clearly delineated a 12 o'clock start time. Two notable bands, Air Traffic and 1990s, were slated to open for Spoon and so I figured that they might want to start on time. Nope. I imagine things got out quite late, like 3 or 4 in the morning. I'm no sucker. I left for the Highline Ballroom to catch Islands.
As I arrived at the Highline Ballroom, The Octopus Project was playing. Catching a part of their set was pure ecstasy for me. I have always wanted to see their experimental, electronically driven pop play out live. They used all sorts of crazy instruments including a Moog I have never come across. The machine transformed front woman Yvonne Lambert's vocals into oscillating goodness. People were really into them, which surprised me because they hail from Austin and I didn't expect their reach to extend this far. There must be something said about their in-between banter. I wished they had abstained. Band member Toto Miranda spewed happy-go-douche-y (yes, I just coined this term) nothings to the audience between songs and I just wanted to hurt myself for having to endure it.





Next, Montreal's Islands took stage. I was excited to see them because I haven't seen Nick "Diamonds" Thurston since The Unicorns' days. The hefty band took stage with sax, violins, synths, and hit us with a barrage of Islands classics. However, a friend noted that they opted to leave out the expected, "Rough Gem", for the unexpected, brand spanking new tunes. I left early to head out to Brooklyn again, but I hear that Thurston even managed to slip a Who vocal reference our way. I knew there was something that I liked about that young man. Oh yes, it's his unabashed display of his classic rock and roll roots. Although I'm pretty sure the only impetus for seeing Islands is Thurston's past, that Unicorns' greatness.




I hopped in a cab to Brooklyn in order to catch my favorite Brit-dance group New Young Pony Club at Studio B. They rarely make it out to the states and I had been anticipating their Modular People showcase for quite some time. Studio B is in Greenpoint, Brooklyn and that translates to the middle of nowhere. Yet this single club manages to draw the biggest dance mainstays in the scene. Whenever Justice or Mstrkrft come through town they're more than likely hitting up this place. I walk in and New Young Pony Club is rocking out. This place was hopping like a club in Manhattan, except this was in a desolate, industrial area of Brooklyn. People were getting down and dirty, throwing their hands in the air like they just didn't care. It was pretty astonishing and unforgettable.




Lead singer Tahita Bulmer led NYPC through a set of hopping tunes from their latest Fantastic Playroom. She was graceful, at times nearly falling out of her low-cut dress, as well as compelling. Bulmer kept prodding the New Yorkers to get into it, "Come on NY! I know you guys can do better than that!" Songs like "Ice Cream", "Get Lucky", and "The Bomb" were all extremely well-received. The culmination of the entire performance was their cover of Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam". The room was hopping and it started to smell like rancid puke, a familiar club smell, towards the close of their set. However, people wanted more of their lively antics after they left stage. So New Young Pony Club came out and granted us a meager yet fulfilling encore. Make sure you catch their LA debut at the Echo on October 30th!
Since it was impossible to get a cab ride back, I hopped on the G and transferred to the L at Metropolitan. I ran into Foals (aka "the next Bloc Party, only way better") in the subway while they were waiting for the L train into Manhattan. Looks as though they'll be playing around for the next two days, which means I'll be in attendance. This trip has been absolutely wild and when it's all over I'll have met every band in the endless tunnels of this great city.
More music mayhem to come...



[ report this ]
Here is the deal. The show was fucking amazing. They covered pump up the jam and gave me a boner. This was really an unforgettable show. One of the best club shows i've ever been to if not the best. Anyways, let's go back in time a bit.
I left this girl I was talking to so I could get to the stage. Didn't get no phone number or anything. I suck. She was cute and I can only hope she remembered email address as I forced my way into the crowd. (Vicki, if you're out there, drop me a line) I get to about 7 feet from the actual stage and I have to stop because there is someone sitting on the floor. This is hipster central and I have no idea if it was a guy or a girl. You be the judge.
The Culprit
I pay no mind as I try to make my way to the stage. I turn around and the androgenous wonder aka the culprit is missing in action. Fucking awesome, right? Sorta. I plunder deeper only to slide around in an unknown substance. I sorta try to ignore it but it's getting really slippery down there. What the fuck is it? Oh it's some puke.
Barf
You know what I did? I ponied (pun indended) up stood in the puke with my brand new $300 shoes and danced my ass off. This show was that good - and I love those fucking shoes.
The best part is you gave me an opportunity like this to totally expose the culprit and their also exposed dinner. Was it marsala or a slice of mushroom pizza? I'm open to suggestions. If anyone actually knows who this is, please contact me so I can give them a bill for cleaning my shoes. I'm also going to need a few extra bucks for the cleaner for having to scrape a bunch of crusty barf off them. I wish I had a picture of those.
You are lucky culprit. Real lucky. I would have kicked your head clean over the Williamsburg bridge if I had known your hipster ass was going to puke in front of the stage.
A+++++++ Amazing show.
[ report this ]
Here is the deal. The show was fucking amazing. They covered pump up the jam and gave me a boner. This was really an unforgettable show. One of the best club shows i've ever been to if not the best. Anyways, let's go back in time a bit.
I left this girl I was talking to so I could get to the stage. Didn't get no phone number or anything. I suck. She was cute and I can only hope she remembered email address as I forced my way into the crowd. (Vicki, if you're out there, drop me a line) I get to about 7 feet from the actual stage and I have to stop because there is someone sitting on the floor. This is hipster central and I have no idea if it was a guy or a girl. You be the judge.
The Culprit
I pay no mind as I try to make my way to the stage. I turn around and the androgenous wonder aka the culprit is missing in action. Fucking awesome, right? Sorta. I plunder deeper only to slide around in an unknown substance. I sorta try to ignore it but it's getting really slippery down there. What the fuck is it? Oh it's some puke.
Barf
You know what I did? I ponied (pun indended) up stood in the puke with my brand new $300 shoes and danced my ass off. This show was that good - and I love those fucking shoes.
The best part is you gave me an opportunity like this to totally expose the culprit and their also exposed dinner. Was it marsala or a slice of mushroom pizza? I'm open to suggestions. If anyone actually knows who this is, please contact me so I can give them a bill for cleaning my shoes. I'm also going to need a few extra bucks for the cleaner for having to scrape a bunch of crusty barf off them. I wish I had a picture of those.
You are lucky culprit. Real lucky. I would have kicked your head clean over the Williamsburg bridge if I had known your hipster ass was going to puke in front of the stage.
A+++++++ Amazing show.
[ report this ]
Here is the deal. The show was truly amazing. They covered pump up the jam which blew the damn roof off. This was really an unforgettable show. One of the best club shows i've ever been to if not the best. Anyways, let's go back in time a bit.
I left this girl I was talking to so I could get to the stage. Didn't get no phone number or anything. I suck. She was cute and I can only hope she remembered email address as I forced my way into the crowd. (Vicki, if you're out there, drop me a line) I get to about 7 feet from the actual stage and I have to stop because there is someone sitting on the floor. This is hipster central and I have no idea if it was a guy or a girl. You be the judge.
The Culprit
I pay no mind as I try to make my way to the stage. I turn around and the androgenous wonder aka the culprit is missing in action. Awesome, right? Sorta. I plunder deeper only to slide around in an unknown substance. I sorta try to ignore it but it's getting really slippery down there. What is it? Oh it's some puke.
Barf
You know what I did? I ponied (pun indended) up stood in the puke with my brand new $300 shoes and danced my ass off. This show was that good - and I love those shoes.
The best part is you gave me an opportunity like this to totally expose the culprit and their also exposed dinner. Was it marsala or a slice of mushroom pizza? I'm open to suggestions. If anyone actually knows who this is, please contact me so I can give them a bill for cleaning my shoes. I'm also going to need a few extra bucks for the cleaner for having to scrape a bunch of crusty barf off them. I wish I had a picture of those.
You are lucky culprit. Real lucky. I would have kicked your head clean over the Williamsburg bridge if I had known your hipster ass was going to puke in front of the stage.
A+++++++ Amazing show.