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Posts tagged as “Brooklyn”

Get Drunk Tonight – The Turkey’s Nest

The Turkey’s Nest – Williamsburg, Brooklyn (N 12th St & Bedford Ave)

Have you ever been to North Brooklyn? Do you have a friend there? Have you ever passed through? Have you spent even ten minutes in McCarren Park? Then you’ve probably passed The Turkey’s Nest. You might have even been inside to order a conveniently styrofoam-cupped beer or margarita (get the one with absinth) for quenching your thirst in the nearby park. But have you ever actually hung out there? I mean, like, have you ever actually gone to The Turkey’s Nest to tie one on and remind yourself that while life is fleeting, sometimes it’s best not to remember parts of it for your own longterm psychological well-being? I bet you haven’t.

In stark contrast to newer Williamsburg’s hip bars with their bullshit dim lights and fancy drinks and bartenders who will actually talk to you, The Turkey’s Nest is a grim, unwelcoming reminder of the neighborhood’s past and I love it. I don’t like it at all, but I love it. If you’re looking for a place to sit with the lights on, drinking yourself into oblivion, not talking to anyone, and maybe watching sports, this place is your place. If you want to play pool with an aggressive dude and his weird mute girlfriend on what might be the neighborhood’s shittiest, smallest, most fucked up pool table, this is your place. If you want to get your drink on without the slightest bit of pretense that what you’re doing is anything but slow suicide (come on, we’ve all been there), this is your place.

You’ll never take a date to The Turkey’s Nest. You might go there with a girl—or guy if that’s your thing—and you might have been on a date beforehand, but crossing the threshold into the darkened world that is The Turkey’s Nest is the termination of your date. You might not even talk to each other again. That’s the sort of place The Turkey’s Nest is. It’s a destroyer of dreams, a breaker of homes, a shatterer of lives. You want a Super Big Gulp sized Budweiser? Sure you do. You want 3 shots of Jäger in a plastic cup? You can have that too. You want a fancy drink and a smile? Get the fuck out, asshole. Go to some trendy bitch bar.

I love The Turkey’s Nest and I hate The Turkey’s Nest. It is varsity level drinking at its worst and it serves a valuable role in an increasingly safe and boring neighborhood. When you are looking for a place where you will receive absolutely no bullshit, this is your place. Welcome, but you aren’t my friend. Get a drink and shut the fuck up.

If you are moved by this post to visit The Turkey’s Nest, please call 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Thanks.

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Get Drunk Tonight – Saint Vitus

Saint Vitus – Greenpoint, Brooklyn (Manhattan Ave @ Clay St.)

I have often said about Duff’s in Williamsburg that if someone had come along and offered 13 year old metalhead Joe money to decorate a bar, that Duff’s is exactly what I would have designed: dark, red lights, tits, horror movies on the television, metal blaring through the jukebox. Unfortunately I am no longer 13 and as much as I enjoy the ridiculous stereotypical metalheadness of Duff’s, sometimes I want a place I won’t be embarrassed to take a date but where I can still listen to heavy metal. Enter Saint Vitus.

A recent addition to Greenpoint’s myriad watering holes, Saint Vitus is a collaborative effort behind some dudes from Anella and Matchless who had the brilliant idea of creating a bar that is exactly what a 28 year old metalhead me would have designed if given the cash. Saint Vitus is a metal bar for grown ups and I love it. Whether you’re there to enjoy their line-up of local draught beer (Kelso, Sixpoint, Brooklyn) or to get shit faced on one of the many drink specials such as The Pope (Coors Banquet tallboy + a shot of Evan Williams + a pickleback), this place does not disappoint.

A seasoned drinker such as myself doesn’t feel odd sitting alone at the bar enjoying a solitary drink, even when surrounded by groups of folks there with the clear intention of making a night of it. Since this place is basically at the end of the world on Clay and Manhattan, I’ve never seen it so crowded that I find it obnoxious. Yet, the neighborhood seems to be genuinely excited about its opening and you’ll find a lively crowd there even on weeknights. And they play fucking Slayer and Iron Maiden all the time?! Holy shit, I love this place. I even heard Gojira the first time I went, which, if you are a fan of metal, you will know is some heavy shit. And I mean heavy as in HEAVY and heavy as in DEEP. Go alone. Go with friends. I don’t care. Just go. And eat a pork bun while you’re at it. Just look for the unadorned black store front with no sign.

In other good news, The Black Laser is now syndicated! Go read Vox Critica or perish!

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Vinyl and Me and You and Everyone

This last weekend I officially joined the growing vinyl devolution. If you follow my Twitter, then you probably know I had been pondering the acquisition of a turntable for a little while after numerous record-shopping trips with my friend Charles. People are so excited about buying actual records these days that I couldn’t stay away from it, which I think is pretty funny. We’re seeing a backlash against the ephemeral nature of digital goods with people embracing hand-made objects, learning to repair things, the maker movement, and the resurgence of vinyl as examples. I don’t mean this in some hipster-bashing, forced-irony way either (regular readers will know that I do not endorse hipster bashing). I really think that with the proliferation of intangible digital goods people yearn to have something physical to hold on to, to touch, to embrace. Vinyl is fulfilling that need in people while also giving you some bitchin’ jams to listen to. Sure, it’s awesome to have 80 billion songs in your iPod, but there’s something much more engrossing about actually listening to a record on vinyl, cd, tape, 8-track, wax cylinder, whatever—a sentiment previously expressed by Señor Vestal.

As I may have noted here before, music really changed for me when I stopped driving. In California, I would drive all over the place, as people do all the while listening to CDs and casettes. The duration of the drives and my desire not to get into an accident while changing the music created a near optimal album-listening environment. There exists a divide between the music I listened to in the 90s while living in California, and the music I have discovered since I moved to NY in 2001. I have a better sense of the older music as a whole, as an album, if that makes sense. The songs on those older records exist as parts of a greater whole not just because I’ve been listening to them longer, but because I would experience the albums as a unit. Music since the file-based shift exists as disassociated tracks, rarely incorporated into large album groups in my musical awareness. Splintered, fractured, split, current musical acquisitions float by rarely anchored. I find that disappointing. There’s a reason your favorite musician put those tracks in that order on the album. I want to be privy to that reason.

But back to the actual purchasing of vinyl. Going around with Charles, it seemed like such a fun thing that I was missing out on for no good reason. I have always loved record shops and the act of searching for records is sometimes more fun than owning them. There is something unmistakeable about browsing through bins of music, hunting for hidden gems and surprises, never quite sure what you’re going to find. You never get that experience online. It’s too streamlined, too inorganic. But flipping through albums in the store is exciting and fun. And if you’re going to be buying music rather than just pirating it from the old interwebs, then you might as well be getting your music on vinyl. CDs kind of suck and I still refuse to buy MP3s, so where should I go? Vinyl!

But what’s a turntable without records to play? A paperweight. So what did I get? With the purchase of the turntable at Permanent Records in Greenpoint, I got three albums.

The Viking of Sixth Avenue – Moondog 2004

Permanent Records has a Moondog section. Let me repeat that: Permanent Records has a MOONDOG SECTION. It’s like they were all, “Joe, you will be buying this. We love you. We have always loved you,” and then they swallowed my soul and brought me back from the dead as a ghastly beast with a thirst for human flesh.

If you are unfamiliar with Moondog (and you shouldn’t be), then you should know that he was an avant-garde street musician in the mid-20th Century who would perform his music on self-made instruments. He was a mad genius with some whacky social ideas who nevertheless created some of the most interesting, most recognizable music of the last century. You’ve probably heard his music around but never known. For example, this piece.

Right? You’ve heard it somewhere mixed into something before.

The album is incredible. You should listen to this right now. You will not be upset by it.

Exotica – Martin Denny 1958

Martin Denny’s 1957 album Exotica is, arguably, the album that launched the whole Exotica craze in the US in the late 50s and early 60s. It certainly gave the movement a name and laid the groundwork for a highly polarizing moment in musical history. I am quite a huge Exotica fan, having been introduced to it in college by my dear friend Jesse. So the prospect of owning this record (for a mere 7 dollars!) was irresistible.

One note, I got the 1958 stereo-rerecording without Arthur Lyman who had left Denny’s band to strike out on his own swath of Exotica creation. Though Denny preferred the original monaural recording, I like the stereo a lot. Stereo was still fresh in the recording engineer’s bag of tricks and they really go out of their way to play with stereo placement which, when pumped through a 5.1 surround system like mine, sounds pretty damned amazing. There are birds all over the place.

Odessey & Oracle – The Zombies 1968

Odessey & Oracle stands next to The Kinks’ Village Green Preservation Society as one of my favorite late-60s British rock albums. Every track is excellent. It was a must-own for me. I’ve purchased this album before as a double-disc CD with a bunch of alternate mixes and demo versions, but when considering which records to get initially I just sort of felt like I needed to have it in my house.

Nina also walked away from Permanent Records with a 1 dollar Village People record so she could listen to their song called “Roommate”. It was worth her dollar, no doubt.

Then on Wednesday after brunching with Nina at 5 Leaves, we had some time to kill before Cut Copy and wandered down to Sound Fix in Williamsburg to liberate myself of yet more cash. Here’s what I walked away with.

Noble Beast – Andrew Bird 2009

What can I say about this album? Most of my most regularly listened to music on my iPod has playcounts in the low teens, but this one is in the high 60s which doesn’t include the number of times I’ve listened to it at home. If you could wear out MP3s, I’d have worn out my MP3s of Noble Beast. It was a natural choice for the home vinyl collection and worth every dollar I’ve spent on it both times. This album is definitely one of my newer acquisitions that has found a root in my brain as a complete unit. If you’ve never heard Andrew Bird before, you owe it to yourself to get a copy of this one.

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea & On Avery Island – Neutral Milk Hotel 1998, 1996

I had never actually purchased either of these albums before and I felt like it was the right thing to do. Also, In The Aeroplane Over the Sea is stupidly awesome. Like, forget it, get the hell out, you’re done amazing. It was a late-90s gem that slipped past me at the time. I was only introduced to it by my brother Charlie in the mid-Aughts and was mad I’d been missing out on it for so long. A great sing-along record. Everyone should own a copy.

I bought On Avery Island because it was there even though I consider it a lesser album. Really, I guess it’s my small way of encouraging Jeff Magnum to continue doing shows because I would love to see this music played live.

Ask Forgiveness – Bonnie “Prince” Billy 2007

I bought this record for one reason: his cover of Danzig’s Am I Demon. That’s it. Well worth the price. The rest of the EP is good too, but for me Am I Demon is the star of the 8-song show.

Streetcleaner – Godflesh 1989

And sooooooo I took a turn for the heavy.

Godflesh is Justin Broadrick’s industrial project and one of the first groups to really incorporate electronic elements with crushingly heavy music. He even played drums for Napalm Death on Scum which basically makes him Grindcore royalty (if such a thing exists). I’ve never really gotten into Godflesh that much before, but when I saw this I knew I needed to take it home with me. I’d seen the “Crush My Soul” video on the old Earache My Eye tape, but never really delved too deeply into their work as a teenager. Yet, now, here I am with a much greater love of electronic music, a heavier palette, and purchasing old LPs. It seemed perfect to take home an industrial record from 1989. I’ve given it a listem and I was totally right. It’s tight, heavy, and crushing. For a fan of old school electro and old school metal, this is the perfect synthesis of the two.

Fortress – Protest The Hero 2008

I have to admit that this isn’t exactly what I wanted, but I will qualify that by saying that this is one of my favorite metal records of the last decade. No, it is not that I didn’t want to own this particular album—I did and I do—but what I really wanted was a copy of their newest album Scurrilous which just came out at the end of March. Unfortunately there is no way to get it on vinyl so I am stuck with the shitty MP3s Charlie sent me until I can get it. Bummer. Nevertheless, Fortess slays and I am glad to have it in my collection.

So there we are. That is my initial round of vinyl purchases. Will the addition of a turntable make me stop buying CDs? Probably not, but I haven’t really been buying a lot of CDs the last year and a half anyway, so it is not likely to affect something I’ve already slowed down on. Will this become a cash sink into which I throw all of my expendable income? You bet your sweet ass it will. I am enjoying it immensely already and had to fight not to order Computerwelt from the German eBay today. Keep coming back and I’ll keep posting my acquisitions as I acquire them. I hope it will be as fun for you and it is for me.

My Friend’s Mustard

Do you like mustard? Of course you do! Everybody likes mustard!

My Friend’s Mustard is a local Greenpoint, Brooklyn company (i.e., Anna Wolf) producing two types of stupidly excellent boutique mustards. Anna was formerly our favorite brunch waitress at The Habitat (also in Greenpoint) but left there a few months ago to pursue mustard making full time. Since then I’ve seen her wares pop up in all sorts of places around Greenpoint, Williamsburg, and greater Brooklyn. If you see it in a shop, get some. You won’t be mad. And if you are mad, don’t tell me about it because we’d have to stop being friends and I don’t want that.

This DO pretty perfectly represents how I feel all the time…

…and why I spend so little time at home.

Why stay home when New York holds so many myriad adventures for the uninhibited? Tonight, for example, I should probably go home and chill out after being out last night until quarter to six, but is that going to happen? Not fucking likely. I would like to go to the Ghostly International party tonight at Public Assembly. Or maybe Big Freedia round 4 at Santos? Anyone want to go dancing? Or maybe I’ll just strike out solo and have an adventure that no one will ever know about. Who knows? The night is young and I have the will.

Link to the original Do.

Chromeo, the pouring rain, and perseverance.

On Sunday, Charles and I went to see the Chromeo show I had mentioned here before. The day was grey and threatened rain. The air was thick and humid. The forecast called for lightning. Undeterred we set out at around 12:30 to get in line. The doors were supposed to open at 2:00, but, both being relentlessly on time for everything, we wanted to get there early. And not unreasonably, I might add, since the Pool Parties things typically get very crowded very quickly. We were just acting in a prudent manner. Business.

We got into line very near the front. We were excited to be so close to the gate even though we could have easily been much further back and still been guaranteed admission. But, fuck it, we were pumped. Neither of us had ever seen Chromeo before and you cannot deny a free show. You just can’t.

And then, sometime just after 1, it started to rain.

Now, I’m not talking about that bullshit rain Californians get so upset about during the winter. No, I’m talking some motherfucking god damned 40 days and 40 nights DOWNPOUR. Raindrops like golf balls. Flooded streets, gale force winds, umbrellas torn to shreds, and there were Joe and Charles, without any sort of protection from the elements, getting absolutely drenched. But were we deterred?

No! Never!

We stood there literally for hours in the rain. When 2 came and went and the rain showed no sign of slowing, Charles very nearly hit his breaking point and asked if maybe we should call it. I stood firm, however, and made it known that I would not move until they told us the show was going on, it was being moved, or it was cancelled.

Shortly after 3, the rain abated a bit, and yet we waited in line for some spec of info. Was the show going on? Was it moving? So many people had given up and left for the dryness and safety of home. Fools! They missed the doors finally opening around 3:30 and we poured in. I made a beeline for the beer table as standing in the rain for hours had developed in my a considerable thirst which would only be quenched by beer. And, beer in hand, the show began as it was supposed to, minor delay notwithstanding. Here are my thoughts.


Is it me or does opening your set with a cover song seem like a fucking stupid idea? The best part of the set was when the wind blew the DJ’s records off the turntables. I described them to one of the dudes I met in line as drum & bass karaoke. Forgettable.

The Suzan

I think I might have enjoyed The Suzan better if I was a 14 year old Japanese schoolgirl. Now, I’m not saying they were bad; they weren’t. It’s just that their brand of stupefyingly sweet bubblegum pop really does nothing at all for me. Maybe I don’t have enough Hello Kitty shit in my house, but there’s something about their music that gave me a toothache and made me worry I might need a root canal.

If you like this sort of thing, then good for you. Check these ladies out. They are by no means bad, just not my style.

Kid Sister

This is where the show really picked up for me. I’ve listened to Kid Sister’s record and it’s pretty good, I guess, but not something I would get behind and recommend to someone. It’s fine, but, I don’t know, not all that exciting really.

But, god damn, Kid Sister brings it live. I don’t care if you’re a fan of her records, but if you like to see a damned good show that’ll make you dance and want to F&F, then this is your jam. I don’t really have much else to say about the set except that it was awesome. A very nice surprise on a rainy day since I really had no expectations of her whatsoever. And, DAMN, watch that girl dance.


Through the three previous sets I had stood on the beer side of the venue. It’s weird. They have two separate sections: the stage area and the beer area. You can’t take beers to the stage side for some inane reason, but you can hear and see just fine from the beer side. Priorities straight, I stayed on the beer side for the three sets I hadn’t stood in pouring rain to see. Even better because it gave me and Charles plenty of space to dance during Kid Sister. We looked at the crowd and felt confident that between sets we’d be able to push our way to very near the front of the crowd. Not all the way, because then you have to look up, but like 15 or 20 feet back.

Of course, we were right. Years of metal shows teach you how to walk through a crowd.

We were right where we wanted to be when Chromeo came on to the stage. I maintain that these guys are our generation’s Hall & Oates. Pop funk duo taking cues from classic R&B? They just write more electro types of songs. All the blogs I’ve been reading call these guys joke-funk, but that just seems like a lazy description to me. Like one blogger wrote it, another read and stole it, and then the term spread. I like to think of Chromeo as good old party music. Does everything need to be a god damned ironic, tongue-in-cheek in-joke these days? Why not just allow for the possibility that these two French Canadians wrote great, catchy as hell, funky pop songs? I don’t think there’s anything that’s a joke about their music at all. Sure, they have fun, but that doesn’t make them a joke. Not everyone needs to be John Cage or Gaahl.

If I remember correctly, they started with “Tenderoni” but I honestly have no idea. It might have been another song. I do know that they played my favorite song of theirs, “Bonafied Loving,” and that they played “Night By Night.” Their performance was pretty damned tight, even if they had to cue about half the instruments from Dave 1’s laptop on the stage. Too many layers of shit going on not to either have a backing band or to have your laptop pumping out the jams. They chose the latter.

Luckily, it didn’t detract at all. Their energy on stage was infectious. The crowd danced and screamed and yelled and jumped and threw their hands into the air with wild abandon. It’s rare you get a crowd that is as into the band as this crowd was into Chromeo. I suppose there’s something about standing around in the rain for hours that brings the best out in people.

All in all, it was an amazing show. To my friends who were here in Brooklyn and decided not to come out because they were afraid of the rain, sucks to be you. You missed an awesome afternoon, an awesome adventure, and an awesome show. Maybe next summer you can catch the Pool Party again. OH WAIT. This is probably the last year! OOOH sting!

And, because I know you want to see more coverage of the show, here it is:

Brooklyn Vegan – Chromeo, Kid Sister, The Suzan & Telephoned played the Pool in the rain (Williamsburg Waterfront pics)

The Village Voice – Live: Chromeo Thrill A Soaked, Oft-Shoeless Jelly Pool Party Crowd With Rampant Corniness

The Village Voice – Brooklyn, This Is Your Rain Dance: Rating Audience Moves at Yesterday’s Chromeo Pool Party

The Village Voice – Pool Party with Chromeo Gallery (Can you find me in this gallery?! hint)

Stereogum – Chromeo, Kid Sister @ JellyNYC Pool Party, Williamsburg Waterfront 8/22/10

See you next time!

Thoughts on the High on Fire/Unearthly Trance/Natur show I attended on Tuesday night.

On Tuesday night I went to the Music Hall of Williamsburg to see High on Fire with Unearthly Trance and Natur at the behest of my buddy Josh. It was a pretty good show, but I didn’t stop thinking the whole time, primarily because I wasn’t drinking. Hah! Some thoughts in chronological order.


I had never heard of or heard this band before Josh asked if I was going to see High on Fire, but as it turns out the band is comprised of a bunch of friends of my friend Angela, dudes I’ve partied next to, if not exactly with. I walked into the venue part way through their set and immediately recognized them as the dudes in the Black Metal shirts I used to see at Motor City all the time. Small world. That also meant that I knew a bunch of folks in the crowd which was pretty fun.

Musically, Natur is a thrash band with heavy reference to the old school. I thought they rocked, and I particularly liked that the drummer Tooth kept throwing the upside down cross with his drumsticks. Fuck yes. My buddy Joe Hogan noted that he’d seen them play twice before, but that this was the first time he’d actually heard them. I was glad for that. There’s nothing to spoil your first impression of a band like bad sound.

I couldn’t really tell you much more about the songs they played save that I enjoyed the set and would be excited to see them again.

Unearthly Trance

Unearthly Trance is the main band of Ryan Lipynsky, who has been mentioned here before, so I was pretty excited to see them play. Loud as fuck, doomy as hell sludge, they totally rocked. Apart from a blown bass head, the set went off without a hitch that I noticed.

Though I didn’t know any of their songs going into it, I’ve really been enjoying The Howling Wind record I won. Not the same exactly, but in the same realm. You know when something is so loud that you actually feel your eardrums vibrate? Yup. Unearthly Trance did that to me. Now, you’ll say, “Joe, why aren’t you wearing earplugs?” to which I’ll reply, “SHUT UP. YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME.”

Why is it that the metal bands doing the most interesting shit in metal are typically the dudes who look least metal? Apart from the drummer’s Nile t-shirt, you’d never think these guys were metalheads if you saw them walking down the street. I like to call guys like that sleeper agents, ready to bring the fucking metal any time but can blend in to regular society, insidiously spreading the message. It’s a term I coined to describe myself when I’d meet new people and they’d find out I’m way into metal. They would inevitably say something like, “Wow, I never would have thought you’d be into death metal.” And I’m all, “I’m a sleeper agent, baby.”

As with any metal band, Unearthly Trance’s real centerpiece was their drummer. Darren Verni worked up a hell of a sweat on stage and totally fucking killed it. He was attacking his drums with pure rage. Recommended. I feel sorry for Josh who decided to sit the set out. Your loss, buddy!

High on Fire

I’ve never understood High on Fire. They’re a metal band and all, but their appeal has always been a mystery to me. I’ve heard their records, seen the music videos, and whatever, but their music has never really clicked with me in the same way as so many other bands. After seeing them live, though, I feel like I get it a little better now. I’m still not a fan, but I at least understand sort of where they are coming from in terms of the metal they make. I described them to my friend JJ as “tough guy hesher party metal.” I think that’s pretty accurate. They definitely rocked the venue and the crowd was way into it. I enjoyed the set, but I don’t think I’d go out of my way to see them play again.

Their energy was undeniable, but by the time the set ended and they went backstage for their “Let’s pretend the show’s over, grab a beer, and then go back out and play our mandatory encore” I seriously considered leaving. I think the crowd threw me a little. It must have been the most aggro crowd I’ve seen in a while.

There’s something funny about metal that many of you non-metalheads don’t understand. The heavier a band gets, the more extreme their music, the less aggressive the crowd becomes. It’s not that there isn’t aggression, it’s that the people at the shows are less aggressive to each other. For example, if you go to see Portal and Gorguts as I did a while back, you get a crowd who is way into the music but not being a bunch of fucking dicks to each other. Same for Pig Destroyer or Brutal Truth or any incredibly heavy metal show.

Now, you get these bands that are heavy but somewhere in the middle ground, like High on Fire, and the meathead cocksucker contingent comes out in force. They’re the guys who are aggressive as fuck, but intimidated by genuinely extreme music. They also don’t really get the metal show etiquette and think that it’s all about fighting and aggression and shit, when it isn’t. It’s about release and rocking out and the music, but never ever about fighting. If you knock someone over in the pit, you help them up. That’s rule number 1. You try to avoid the chick who doesn’t know better and is standing on the edge of the pit. No fucking karate dancing, asshole. If someone bumps you, don’t get all bent out of shape about it. Am I the only person who thinks these rules are real? I doubt it. I’ve seen similar etiquette at shows since I’ve been going in my early teens. You learn it. You follow it. Everyone has a good time.

But the crowd the other night seemed to be ignorant of these common, unspoken rules of the metal show. I nearly got barreled over by some fucking 6’9″ giant of a man a few times who couldn’t be bothered just to take his time working through the crowd. He kept coming and going pit to bar, pit to bar, pit to bar. Anyone who’s been to a bunch of shows knows how to work his way through a crowd. I like to call it “the hand on the back”. It will move anyone, it’s not dick, and it works. People don’t mind being touched when there’s a billion people all around you to see Slayer or whatever; it’s unavoidable. But just pushing your way through is rude. Bad etiquette.

So there you go, a bunch of arbitrary opinions and bullshit. If you wanted informed analysis, go read Cosmo. If you want senseless blathering, The Black Laser is your jam.

If I had to rate the sets from 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, I’d do it like this.

  • Natur: 7
  • Unearthly Trance: 9
  • High on Fire: 5

More show reviews as I go to them.

My utterly stressful day.

I know you have all missed my banter so much while I’ve been in California, but you don’t have to long anymore now that I am back in Brooklyn. I intend to recommence posting at the same semi-regular clip I maintained in the past. That is, 15 music videos to 1 post with any content. Deal.

Anywayyyyyy, I had a super stressful day today and thought I’d share it with you. Here’s what I done.

  • I woke up, discovered a job I thought was supposed to start today got killed, and went back to sleep.
  • I woke up a second time, much later. I won’t tell you when, but Europeans would call it 14 o’clock.
  • I showered.
  • I shaved.
  • I realized I left my toothbrush and toothpaste in the shower in California, but then I found I had an extra tube of toothpaste and an extra toothbrush. Score!
  • I went to the bank and deposited a check.
  • I walked down Manhattan Avenue to Bedford to the N7th L train stop and boarded the train.
  • At Union Square I transferred to a downtown 6.
  • I got off at Spring Street, dropped off my rent check and the stupid parking ticket I got in Durango, and went into Smoke & Mirrors.
  • I met S&M’s pretty new receptionist, picked up Chip Chip, and left. Total time for that errand: 5 minutes.
  • I sauntered up Broadway since it was beautiful out and got back on the train at Union Square.
  • I got off at Beford again, walked down to get a burrito.
  • They didn’t have pork, so I got the steak. O! life’s hardships.
  • Burrito in hand, I found my spot in McCarren Park and laid in the grass for maybe an hour and a half enjoying the sun and the breeze.
  • Satiated with my burrito and entertained by the inane conversation the two teenaged girls playing badminton next to me had, I went home.
  • I played my old Gibson for a little bit.
  • I came online to download some scale tabs to practice my fingering. GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER, MISTER.
  • I reapplied for my leftover funemployment benefits. Booyah!
  • I wrote this.
  • I am going to turn on yesterday’s baseball game and play my guitar.

Isn’t my life hard? Don’t you all wish you were coming to visit me on my summer vacation? It’s so great.