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Posts tagged as “Williamsburg”

Allswell, Williamsburg

Some folks I know are opening a restaurant in Williamsburg the week of November 7th called Allswell. It’s housed in the spot formerly occupied by Raymund’s, a Polish joint that was hardly worth venturing into, so no real loss with its demise.

They’ve been generating a fair amount of press based on the reputation of head chef Nate Smith’s work at The Spotted Pig. Check out some of the links below for a sampling of what people have been saying about the restaurant’s imminent opening.

New York Magazine – What to Eat at Allswell, Opening Next Week in Williamsburg

Brooklyn Exposed – Allswell That Begins Well: Pub Fare on its Way to Williamsburg

Eater – Nate Smith to Open Allswell in Williamsburg This Fall

Zagat – Nate Smith Opening Brooklyn Restaurant This Fall

Nearsay – All’s Well: Nate Smith Opening New Williamsburg Restaurant

Timeout New York – Slide show: What you’ll be eating this fall

That’s a lot of articles for a restaurant that isn’t even open yet, right?

This summer, while getting the restaurant business in order, Nate did a bunch of pop-up dinners around the neighborhood to generate interest. Successfully, too, I think. The food was certainly good, and, after hearing about the restaurant for so many months, I can’t wait for it to open and proceed to kick ass in the North Brooklyn restaurant scene.

Go like them on Facebook: Allswell

EDIT\\ I’ve updated the date of the restaurant opening. Looks like I got a little excited there.

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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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.

The Joys and Pains of finding a new apartment.

This weekend I started the apartment hunt to try to find a place cheaper than my current place that is fresh and new and my own. Typically looking for an apartment is a grueling, miserable experience. You spend a hundred years on Craig’s List (have you heard of this thing?) and you call and make appointments and run all over town to see a bunch of fucking duds. It’s a drag. I have to move out of my current apartment on April 9th, which is kind of nice because it gives me a little bit of a buffer to accomplish everything I need to, painting, patching holes, whatever.

With the hell that is finding an apartment in mind, I’ve been procrastinating. Surprise! Knowing that time was finally running short, I sat down to Craig’s List (no, really, you’ve got to check this thing out) at about noon on Saturday. I did a little searching, got on the phone and started making appointments for that afternoon and Sunday.


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I had my first viewing at 1:45 on Saturday at an apartment right around the corner from where I currently live. One huge bonus right off the bat was that the place is right next door to Taco Bite, my favorite neighborhood taco joint. The best. Ask for the tortilla soup.

I meet the real estate agent, RJ, in front of the building and we go in. The stairs were nice and wide, and the hallways were spacious. He led me up five flights of stairs and into one of many doors on the fifth floor. Though nice with new appliances, exposed brick, and refinished whatever, the apartment was tiny. I mean, tiny. Like 350 sq ft. Maybe less. I was looking around and trying to use my advance, alien spatial reasoning to see how I’d fit everything into there. The only conclusion I could find was that I would have to either get rid of my desk (hell no) or get rid of the tv/sound system (also, hell no). I wasn’t sure if I could fit my bed either. It’s too bad too, because the apartment probably got really nice light and had some awesome views out the windows of the Williamsburg bridge and Manhattan on nice, clear days. But, for 1550 a month, it wasn’t worth it. Even if they knocked it down to 1450 a month, it wouldn’t be worth it. Sometimes you just have to trust your gut.

The next apartments I wanted to see were up in Greenpoint. I walked through the blinding rain a mile and a half through the neighborhood to the Realtor’s office. When I got there, my pants were pasted to my legs. God, I love flash NY spring time rain fall. It’s like, “Walk walk walk, drizzle drizzle drizzle, walk walk walk, POURING FUCKING RAIN FUCK YOU HOLY FUCK WIND AND RAIN AND OH MY FUCKING GOD.” After a mile and a half (2.4 km, for you folks outside the US) of that crap, I was pretty much over the day. But, like a good, diligent boy, I went in and saw the two apartments.


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The first place I saw was a railroad apartment that was filled with a Polish man’s belongings. I guess he was moving out but hadn’t yet. The apartment smelled like those cheap shit scented candles you get at 99¢ stores, which I think was accurate since he had about 30 of those things spread around the apartment in various degrees of burnt. It was a strange place. The apartment itself was fine. Totally regular railroad style apartment (what you southerners would call a shotgun shack), if a little small. I’m not sure that, even at 1250/month, it was worth it to be so far from the trains. Too far, too funky, too blah. I like the park right there though, but nah. Fuck it.


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The third apartment I saw that day was super awesome. It’s is also a railroad apartment, as is the style in this part of Brooklyn, but it was significantly larger than the previous one. It also has much better train access and a whole lot more fun stuff around it. The kitchen and the bedroom are both bright as hell which is amazing. Easily worth the 50 extra dollars. My only hesitation was that the building has a funky, tiny hallway with a mere 34″ of clearance and it’s going to be hard to move things in and, eventually, out. I was nervous enough about it that I told them I’d think about it.

I talked to Charles for a while and he basically told me I was being a big pussy about the whole thing. I called them back and went over to their office the next day with all my paper work in tow in case I decided to jump. I went back to the apartment and it still felt good, like the right place. I measured the hallway to discover the 34″ clearance and then measured the typically small door. I feel confident I can get my desk in, which is important, and I also feel confident that I can order a sofa with detachable legs and get that into the apartment. It’s going to be hard, but it can be done. I hope.

Either way, after about 4 whole hours, I was sick as hell of looking for an apartment so I applied for this one on Sunday. The only negative for me was the entrance way and I’ll just have to make it work. They called me today, Monday, and told me I was accepted. I just have to go up and get my keys and put the ConEd and whatever in my name. Done and done. And all without a guarantor! Lookie here, I’ma grown man now.

I’m going over there with Mike and Charles on Saturday to measure and then eat brunch somewhere, so expect photos. Fun!

I love this man.

Any Williamsburger reading this should recognize this guy immediately as the mad who drive around in his red Subaru blaring old pop music and singing along on nice days. EVERYONE knows this guy. When he drives by, people always say, “Hey look, it’s that guy!” and everyone else within earshot is all, “Yeah, we totally know him too.” He’s been driving around in that car for as long as I’ve lived in the neighborhood, some years now. And you know what? Good for him. He’s out there having a damn good time, doing his own thing, bringing joy to those he passes. In the video he talks about some woman who spits on his car, which just baffles me. Why would you be upset about this guy driving around singing in his car? Are you afraid of having a little color in your hood? What is making you so angry? I don’t get it.

For all you folks who don’t live in the neighborhood or have never seen this guy out there, enjoy this fabulous little glimpse into the magic he spreads.