Not to rub it in your face or anything, but yours truly was the bathroom monitor for the men's bathroom at Alley Katz for the Against Me! show tonight.
As more than one guy told me, "You ought to be getting paid for this." I ought to be getting paid for something, that's for sure.
My bathroom management began because, arriving near the beginning of Dead to Me's set, I found a great place to stand with an unobstructed view. It was on the side of the stage, three feet from the band and I was only two people back. For a short person (let's just say I never get to see musician's legs), that's an infrequent vantage point. The last time I remember such a great view was a Pinback show at the Satellite Ballroom several years back and it was a revelation.
So I happily took up residence just to the right of the men's room door. Dead to Me's lead singer was just telling the audience how great a show Against Me! was going to be. He then looked up at the people on the third floor and said, "I was looking at these guys when I said that, but it's true for you guys, too...you posers! Afraid to be down here and have a real moshing experience?"
The posers didn't respond. Dead to Me continued with their energetic set.
During their set, guys kept coming to use the facilities and it soon became clear that there was no process in place, no clear line and as a result, girls were walking into the men's room (not a good idea when guys are using the sink as a back-up urinal) and others were butting in line.
I took charge, directing girls away to the proper place and telling the guys where the line was. It only made sense and worked out well for me as I now had an ever-changing line of potential music conversational partners.
I'd say close to three quarters of the guys had seen Against Me! before. Of those who hadn't, most were like me, had missed seeing them the last time they came through and were determined to see them at Alley Katz tonight. I asked one guy his three favorite bands; he said Interpol, Editors and the Shins. When I said I'd seen all three live, he about lost it. Editors, especially was of such interest to him that he gave up his place in line to quiz me on where and when and how good it had been; the man wanted details.
When another guy learned I'd seen the Arcade Fire, he was so impressed that I was afraid he was going to kiss the hem of my skirt. Seriously.
One guy recognized me immediately while I had no idea who he was: turns out he's the new food talent in Carlos' kitchen at Bistro 27 and we'd just met Thursday (sorry, he was out of context and looked different in real clothes after having met him in chef garb).
As the night wore on, guys were back in line and greeting me like an old friend. It was pretty funny.
I know old-school Against Me! fans shun the band post-New Wave, their major label debut. I also know Spin named New Wave the number one album of the year for 2007. Somewhere in between I'm happy to appreciate their melodic punk muscle, especially in an ideal venue for them like Alley Katz.
Despite an alarming number of people using earplugs (seriously, kids, live music is supposed to ruin your hearing; believe me, I know), moshing and stage diving were rampant and you can't get that at the National or the Camel.
Tom Gabel's voice was terrific live, their energy indicated they really were happy to be playing rva and they played old and new material to satisfy the sing-along crowd. Before the encore, two bathroom line guys I'd already talked to came by to pee and ask if I thought the show was as excellent as they had. I'm not sure why they wanted a first-timer's opinion, but I assured them that I did.
The WRIR DJ I'd met in line came by and thoughtfully gave me the link to his podcasts. The nearby bouncer thanked me for all my hard work managing the line, making his job easier.
Hey, you do what you have to do at a punk show. More than one guy asked me why I was putting up with the endless line of guys, but when I explained my superior vantage point, they immediately got it.
Sometimes you've got to suffer for art, even if all you're doing is appreciating rather than creating it. I'm okay with that, although my bruised toes would probably beg to differ.
But my ringing ears couldn't be happier.
Showing posts with label alley katz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alley katz. Show all posts
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Music Lust, Not (yet) Man Lust
"If you are free, we need to go to this show," said the e-mail from Andrew, my musical partner in crime. Fortunately, he gave me enough notice that I could guarantee my presence where it was needed last night. I'd just recently discovered Jukebox the Ghost so I was excited to have a chance to hear them live so soon. With the local additions of Prabir and the Goldrush and The Trillions opening, it looked to be a musical bonanza of an evening.
Garnett's was our choice for dinner and it worked out well because it wasn't crazily busy, so we got plenty of conversation from the staff as well as a visit from George, the cat, who once again had wandered down the four blocks from where he actually lives. His daily presence is thought to have something to do with Hunter feeding him salmon ("I just wanted a companion," he explained, "and someone to stroke." Ahem), but I've never seen a cat so nonchalantly work a dinner crowd. Having both doors open probably doesn't discourage George much, either.
Searching the menu for a new sandwich to try, (Andrew the smart-ass said, "You haven't tried them all yet?") I decided on the grilled cheddar (with hot mustard and red onions on rye bread) on Curt's recommendation, with a side of Mac's fresher-than-fresh gazpacho. It was a variation on a cliched theme, that of the grilled cheese and tomato soup lunch of childhood; there was absolutely nothing cliched about this combination. I'd like to dub Mac the Soup Master for his talent with liquids, but he already knows I worship him. Dessert was the luscious chocolate cake with coffee icing and then we headed down to the Bottom for music.
We were early, or the show was late starting, however you want to look at it, so we did a stroll since it was such a beautiful night, which resulted in one of those sublime moments that you wish you could capture, raved about here.
And then it was show time. It was our first time seeing Prabir and then the Trillions (his former Substitutes plus one) at Alley Katz. My only complaint was the sound mix; the recently-added drums of the Goldrush pretty much canceled out Matt's bass, which was a real shame. If there's going to be an instrument that big on stage and being played with that much verve and enthusiasm, I want to hear it and I couldn't, except when the drummer was playing the high hat.
Prabir, take note.
I'd run into several friends who, like me, were there for Jukebox the Ghost and they delivered in spades. A Philly trio with an emphasis on crazy keyboards, they were tight, melodic and completely engaging. Pianist Ben was also a ham, using elaborate hand gestures and high voices to dramatize their songs (almost Freddy Mercury-like).
The crowd had a clear contingent of fans who knew every word and danced pretty much non-stop. The band even introduced their first two songs as "dance sensations." A skinny older man in the front row provided a frenetic dance performance to many of the songs, amusing the band and entertaining the crowd. He was completely into following that frenzied keyboard and it was awesome to watch. Andrew had been exactly right, I needed to see this show.
My last stop of the evening was Ipanema to meet up with a friend for catch-up conversation and of course we ended up closing the place (not that I was drinking after the lunch I'd had, here). It was funny, we both had a story about how a guy we knew had misinterpreted one of my recent blog posts. Both guys had had reading comprehension issues about this post, here, reading into it a completely different meaning than what I wrote.
Luckily, my girlfriend had interpreted it exactly as it was intended when I wrote it (so I knew I wasn't crazy), but these guys saw a completely different and provocative meaning to it. Song lyrics, guys, they were just lyrics and I wasn't lusting after or propositioning anyone in that post. Hell, the point of that post was about all the various enjoyable guys she and I had run into that night.
Until I get this guy thing going right again, thank god there are girlfriends who get me without needing explanations. Believe me, if I'm lusting after someone, I will be clear as crystal and you won't have to read into anything I write.
I'll spell it out for you and, male or female, you won't be able to miss my meaning.
Garnett's was our choice for dinner and it worked out well because it wasn't crazily busy, so we got plenty of conversation from the staff as well as a visit from George, the cat, who once again had wandered down the four blocks from where he actually lives. His daily presence is thought to have something to do with Hunter feeding him salmon ("I just wanted a companion," he explained, "and someone to stroke." Ahem), but I've never seen a cat so nonchalantly work a dinner crowd. Having both doors open probably doesn't discourage George much, either.
Searching the menu for a new sandwich to try, (Andrew the smart-ass said, "You haven't tried them all yet?") I decided on the grilled cheddar (with hot mustard and red onions on rye bread) on Curt's recommendation, with a side of Mac's fresher-than-fresh gazpacho. It was a variation on a cliched theme, that of the grilled cheese and tomato soup lunch of childhood; there was absolutely nothing cliched about this combination. I'd like to dub Mac the Soup Master for his talent with liquids, but he already knows I worship him. Dessert was the luscious chocolate cake with coffee icing and then we headed down to the Bottom for music.
We were early, or the show was late starting, however you want to look at it, so we did a stroll since it was such a beautiful night, which resulted in one of those sublime moments that you wish you could capture, raved about here.
And then it was show time. It was our first time seeing Prabir and then the Trillions (his former Substitutes plus one) at Alley Katz. My only complaint was the sound mix; the recently-added drums of the Goldrush pretty much canceled out Matt's bass, which was a real shame. If there's going to be an instrument that big on stage and being played with that much verve and enthusiasm, I want to hear it and I couldn't, except when the drummer was playing the high hat.
Prabir, take note.
I'd run into several friends who, like me, were there for Jukebox the Ghost and they delivered in spades. A Philly trio with an emphasis on crazy keyboards, they were tight, melodic and completely engaging. Pianist Ben was also a ham, using elaborate hand gestures and high voices to dramatize their songs (almost Freddy Mercury-like).
The crowd had a clear contingent of fans who knew every word and danced pretty much non-stop. The band even introduced their first two songs as "dance sensations." A skinny older man in the front row provided a frenetic dance performance to many of the songs, amusing the band and entertaining the crowd. He was completely into following that frenzied keyboard and it was awesome to watch. Andrew had been exactly right, I needed to see this show.
My last stop of the evening was Ipanema to meet up with a friend for catch-up conversation and of course we ended up closing the place (not that I was drinking after the lunch I'd had, here). It was funny, we both had a story about how a guy we knew had misinterpreted one of my recent blog posts. Both guys had had reading comprehension issues about this post, here, reading into it a completely different meaning than what I wrote.
Luckily, my girlfriend had interpreted it exactly as it was intended when I wrote it (so I knew I wasn't crazy), but these guys saw a completely different and provocative meaning to it. Song lyrics, guys, they were just lyrics and I wasn't lusting after or propositioning anyone in that post. Hell, the point of that post was about all the various enjoyable guys she and I had run into that night.
Until I get this guy thing going right again, thank god there are girlfriends who get me without needing explanations. Believe me, if I'm lusting after someone, I will be clear as crystal and you won't have to read into anything I write.
I'll spell it out for you and, male or female, you won't be able to miss my meaning.
Why Do These Things Happen to Me?
Sometimes the cosmos rewards a music lover like me with a perfect moment so random and cool that I just have to think, how lucky am I?
Walking down Walnut Alley to 17th Street, I see through the window that the retail space at the corner is being renovated. Rounding the corner, one of the workers standing at the door smiles at me, so I ask him what's up with the space. He tells me it's going to be a wine shop/art gallery and invites us to come in and meet the owner. She's perched atop a ladder, one guy is sprawled on the floor paining a sign that says "C'est le vin" and a couple others are moving things around.
I ask her about the bustle and she says that the neighborhood needed a wine shop for the locals; she invites us to look around just as my friend Nicholas appears on the sidewalk and comes in to say hello. As I walk around admiring the wine racks, ogling the tin ceiling and talking to the sign painter, the space is suddenly filled with the sound of a bass clarinet.
Nicholas, who plays bass clarinet for the Richmond Symphony, has spontaneously decided to test the acoustics of the room by playing. It is so amazing-sounding that everything else becomes secondary. One second it's an interesting new space and the next it's musical paradise; everyone is paused in their work by the moment.
When he finishes, he walks over to the owner and says, "Don't ever let anyone amplify their sound in here. It's perfect just as it is."
Actually, what was perfect was that a good friend randomly walked into the place where I just happened to be and began playing his instrument so beautifully that time may as well have stopped. And I told him just that when I saw him later at Alley Katz.
How in the hell am I so fortunate?
Walking down Walnut Alley to 17th Street, I see through the window that the retail space at the corner is being renovated. Rounding the corner, one of the workers standing at the door smiles at me, so I ask him what's up with the space. He tells me it's going to be a wine shop/art gallery and invites us to come in and meet the owner. She's perched atop a ladder, one guy is sprawled on the floor paining a sign that says "C'est le vin" and a couple others are moving things around.
I ask her about the bustle and she says that the neighborhood needed a wine shop for the locals; she invites us to look around just as my friend Nicholas appears on the sidewalk and comes in to say hello. As I walk around admiring the wine racks, ogling the tin ceiling and talking to the sign painter, the space is suddenly filled with the sound of a bass clarinet.
Nicholas, who plays bass clarinet for the Richmond Symphony, has spontaneously decided to test the acoustics of the room by playing. It is so amazing-sounding that everything else becomes secondary. One second it's an interesting new space and the next it's musical paradise; everyone is paused in their work by the moment.
When he finishes, he walks over to the owner and says, "Don't ever let anyone amplify their sound in here. It's perfect just as it is."
Actually, what was perfect was that a good friend randomly walked into the place where I just happened to be and began playing his instrument so beautifully that time may as well have stopped. And I told him just that when I saw him later at Alley Katz.
How in the hell am I so fortunate?
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