Snack Attack-- 2.Plagiarized

Today on my lunch break, a sense of true bliss came over me when I was greeted at the automatic bifold doors of Dagastino's by a man giving away Choctál ice cream. Never hearing of this brand, i took the cup (complete with wooden spoon) somewhat hesitantly. But by the time the cashier lifted my cocoa filled treat off the conveyor belt (without scanning it) and placed it into my bag-- I was in complete heaven. And the moment this frozen pudding-like yumminess hit my taste buds, I searched the interweb for where I could find more. Sadly, to find out-- not in my neighborhood.

If you don't believe the amazingness that is this stuff... just surrender to the music on their website.

And check it-- our friends on the other side of the river are snacking too!

We Are the World...

I saw a lady reading this on the train this morning and had a mini-WTF!? moment.

Rain, Rain, Go Away...

I'm not happy, and not only because my feet are wet.

I'm mostly sad that I'm currently missing the Olsen book signing in Union Square. I mean, if I motivated myself away from my desk, I could venture into the cold wet outdoors. But just the thought makes me go 'Burrrrr". Considering all I wore today is a silk shirt & a denim jacket (in blatant denial that winter is here), I think I'll just sit here and warm my feet on the space heater-- and watch youtube videos of the alien twins explaining that this wasn't an ego project

Right? Right.


Ummm, right.

How I wish these two could adorn my coffee table.... But not in the weird sorority sister way Ashley composes herself above. Totally looks like she's at a job interview at Starbucks. Where are the sloppy Beatrice Inn girls we all love!?

The Dude Abides.

Work Appropriate

Well, at least in my office....

Fucking Amazing!

Sounds like Prohibition to Me.

Looking forward to the relaunch...
But this has been keeping me quite happy in the meantime:

Discover Jenny Lewis!

Johnny Flynn & Laura Marling @ The Bowery

Sad to miss ALL three Noah & the Whale shows this week, I was fortunate enough to snag a ticket to see Laura Marling's haunting solo performance, along with good friends Johnny Flynn and Mumford & Sons (half of who make up Miss Marling's band):

I've got to say I was pleasantly surprised by openers Mumford. Running with this crowd, I assumed they were talented but I was blown away by their 'if Beirut did folk music' approach, with more annunciation of course-- being British and all. The bar had been lifted, and we all anxiously awaited a record pole vault from Flynn & Marling.

The marvelous Johnny Flynn did just that, traversing over the high standard beam with grace. Johnny's master of all musical trades vitality filled the room to an overflowing brim-- helped by some burning desire from the ladies, I'm sure, Red Coat or not. Continuing on, Johnny's talent shined through an ironic Jeffery Lewis cover. 'Do you know of him?', he asked the crowd, to which his Bassist replied, 'No one knows of him...'

Laura Marling floated onto the stage like a delicate bird, dimming down the energy to a soft & steady buzz. Some speculated that maybe she should have performed before Flynn, but as I had to be in the office the next morning, I didn't mind the sullen lullabies. Laura, filled with sweet fervor, belted out lyrics such as 'the grey in this city is too much to bear' with a sort of apocalyptic romance. Closing my eyes, I was reminded of a young Sinead O'Conner. Only 18 years of life below her belt, one could be convinced that Marling has lived, been loved, and suffered loss decades upon decades over.

Take a looksy at the UK loveliness:









Blessed be the folk hearts of the Brits, yo.

Goldfrapp @ Radio City Music Blah

So these were the first serious concert tickets I have bought in a while... but after the 50% off promotion, and realization that Martha Wainwright would have a 'special appearance'-- I went ahead and sprung the 40 bucks for orchestra seats, in hopes of dancing my ass off a little bit.


Now, where should we start? How about here: I missed Martha Wainwright (if she was even there-- I have been too lazy to investigate) probably while standing in line to get whiskey'd up. Then, felt obligated to SIT through most of Goldfrapp's performance because it seems people aren't particularly fond of dancing in the home of famous dancers. Finally and saddest of all, the sound kinda sucked. I do, however, have to say that barefooted Goldie looked hot in her curly locks & flock worthy dress. My lovely company even said she looked like a less energized version of me-- LOVE them!




Also loving the Kenneth Parcell-ness in the 'Happiness' video:

Strange twist/highlight of the night: Being abducted by advertising folks in a white limo and ushered to the Norwood to 'enjoy' $18 martinis & web designer douchebags. Apparently, even the website is super exclusive-- wtf!?

Fashion Week Favorite

Justin Giunta's Subversive Jewelry Showcase @ the Opening of the Kisan Concept Store in SoHo:

 

Then there was the Bungalow 8 After Party, where I managed to go home with this beauty by Katya Bochavar:

Fancy women's business ties!?... Loves it!

Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side

The candle lit Living Room in LES felt more like an intimate gathering amongst friends than a Monday night venue. Cory Chisel, accompanied by the beautifully sweet Adriel Harris, stepped onto the stage as if from an Andrew Wyeth painting-- just real salt of the earth folks. Cory spoke to the crowd, disclosing personal tidbits as if we were extended family sitting around the fireplace-- the crowd warmed by his charming lyrics, true of heart persona, and deeply soulful voice.

This young son of a Baptist minister has a highly apparent old soul, with lyrics that whimsically weave stories of heartbreak, faith, and joy. Cory's voice is remarkably enchanting, resembling a real sense of Americana-- much like a young Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon, Van Morrison, or Bob Dylan. His songwriting is raw and truthful, leaving his audience feeling special-- as if he had whispered secrets for only us to keep. If Tim Buckley & Jeff Buckley had a baby, (incestuous, i know-- and impossible, I guess), Cory Chisel would be their sunshine boy.

I had the pleasure of spending some time with Cory and his posse after the show. A room full of amiable dispositions can be hard to come by in NYC, but this crowd was full of Midwest charm and a genuine interest in learning more about their fans/associates/friends. Adriel was soft spoken while mentioning how truly lucky she felt. After an approving nod of the head from Cory to Leonard Cohen's 'I'm Your Man' and a shot of tequila, Cory boasted passionately that 'if this whole music thing doesn't work out... (points at self) documentary filmmaker right here'.

The highlight of the night was definitely the closing song. Cory took a moment and looked into the crowd-- 'If you're from New York you don't get it' he said, as he began to strum a delicate cover of 'Rosie' by Tom Waits. He's 'doing a little bit more than the best he can', and we're definitely looking forward to a little bit more from you, Cory & Company. I couldn't think of better people to wish great successes upon...

Fall in love a little here. And get some free goodness here.

And, be sure to catch Cory, Adriel, and the gang again before the Wisconsin wind steals them away... Monday, Sept. 15th @ The Living Room on Ludlow.

Uhhh, Yeah...

Way ahead of you, FREEwilliamsburg.

Mr & Mrs Tennessee

A Night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg with Silver Jews -- and who could forget opening riot act Monotonix. These two bands make quite the odd couple, but for my first (and their 71st) Silver Jews show-- I couldn't of asked for anything more:

A steadily intriguing buzz increased amongst the extended Music Hall Happy Hour crowd ($3 drinks, y'all) about the Israeli punk-metal trio Monotonix who, quite honestly, I had never really heard of before. But some guy who lit my smoke outside the venue was told he 'had to show up for the opening band because they are fucking NUTS. Apparently, they throw beer bottles at their fans'. My confusion about a Gwar resembling prelude to bluntly somber melodies snapped to a crisp clarity when I was informed that these curly haired boys were Mr. Berman's favorite band.

Monotonix was captivating, to say the least. And as their clanging musical cartwheels unraveled, the first thing I thought was 'I shouldn't have worn my grandmother's ring to this'. Garbage, beer, and the banging of cymbals passed all too near my face-- and I agreed that 'if we were in Indianapolis, we would've gotten our asses kicked'... Kudos to any band that can make a Williamsburg crowd move!

The energy in the room plateaued at high when the cloud lining Jews took the stage, kicking off with 'Smith & Jones Forever'-- a smart move after the opening testosterone party. The setlist was true precision transitioning at its best. Berman's perfectly sullen Cohen delivery backlit with subtle surf guitar on 'My Pillow is a Threshold' was followed with darkly foot-tapping tunes such as 'K-Hole'. A truly satisfying mix of new material and even some late 90s throwbacks.

The slightly sweeter Nico-esque voice compliments of Cassie Berman, wife of the brilliantly awkward frontman, return on Silver Jews recently released sixth album Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea. Her live rendition of the we've-all-been-there lyrics on my new personal favorite track, 'We Could be Looking for the Same Thing', are still streaming delicately in my head.

Oh, and for the Berman wannabes out there... I hear the Lookout album cover includes guitar chord cards. You know, like Guitar Hero, but for real musicians. Not to mention some adorable Babaar doppelgangers:

But who buys hard copy albums anymore, anyway?

Reigning Crown of the Teething Crowd

Lets admit to ourselves that the idea of the Mr & Miss Williamsburg Pageant, although pretty ingenious on the part of whats her name, is absolutely ridiculous. I stumbled upon 2 comp tickets to what I thought would be a hipster masquerade-- and when I say stumble I mean, of course, a dear friend was a competitor. After mentally preparing myself, I had to go check out the scene at Supreme Trading:

Much to my disappointment-- but not surprise, the back room of Supreme was overcrowded, non-air conditioned, and lacking the assumed Ohio-gone-Brooklyn hotness.

So what was the cause of the mediocre contestant turn out? I'm guessing the eager spectators were the victim of some sort of irony... but to which degree? Was entering the Pageant not ironic enough for the Bedford elite? Or was it so ironic it wasn't? And so on, and so forth... But who am I to judge?

To be fair (NOTE: this is my disclaimer), I spent the entirety of 5 minutes in the room & wrote it off almost immediately, spending the rest of my time at the bar-- where some drunk girl from Staten Island bought me & my friend shots of whiskey and PBRs on some guys tab that she allegedly was 'not trying to date rape'. Only to return at the exact moment of my friend's crowning as the new King of the 'Hood. Returning from Burning Man only 2 days prior, he has had 'the most amazing last two weeks'. And even with the echoing recount chanting, it could've been worse.

And, to Misha Calvert-- IF the Colt 45 fiasco is true, I can dig that you pulled one over on some law enforcing higher up. Yet, I can't help but mention the last time I was caught stealing beer from a bodega. I was with Mr. Williamsburg himself, and after I sincerely apologized for my drunkenness, and giggled whilst removing the random assortment of 12 oz. bottles from my over-sized purse, the man behind the counter simply offered me credit at his establishment.

Here's some pictorial proof:

Congrats Dave! If nothing else, I'm sure the title will get you laid.

This Is Normandy:

I am NOT there. I am here:

Cheers to those who are though. Especially the ones in love.

There In Spirit

As I was suffering thru the end of an 80+ hour work week, this lovely lady entertained the lucky many @ Le Poisson Rouge:


Here is a review from one lucky femme.

Who Do We Have to Call...

to get more of these???

I realize Neil Patrick Harris is not a fan of the female anatomy. But a girl can dream, can't she?  

NOTE: Basically all of my childhood fantasies were about playing Doctor with this guy.

This Makes Me Sad...

If this works when you click it, I'm happy once more.

'Beached in the City of Lost Barnacles and Leeches'

Photos taken by my infamous Razor Phone. Sorry for the tinyness. When I finally clean my room & find my camera charger, I will deliver some legit stills. Unfortunately, not of this show:


There's nothing like a McCarren Park Pool show to get rid of a serious Sunday hangover. Although, a thanks is definitely in order to the HUGE Turkey's Nest margarita & the miniature sub par chicken empanada that escaped from a duffel bag only to make a new home in my empty half drunken belly. No matter the headache, this was a concert I had been looking forward to all summer. And as luck would have it, the last pool show I will ever attend-- sadly, my job is sending me out of town with no room for some Yo La Tengo love.


I've heard a million great things about Panther & Chin Chin, but I was busy having a little too much fun with water guns to really pay any attention to their sets. Not to mention, my love for the Slip 'n Slide and free VIP Dewars (thanks to my real life guardian angel-- and I'm not talking about Bernie Mac here, kids). My favorite quote of the day definitely came early from some dude who screamed out something along the lines of 'Nice white pants, asshole!' during the Chin Chin parade. Let's face it, we were all there to see the man himself-- Aesop Rock.


The crowd seemed younger than usual, and if I had to guess... I'd chalk it up to the heavy Myspace marketing blasts from the Aesop camp in the last few months. I'd say Mr. Rock, no matter how profane, could be considered a poetry teacher of sorts to the young ones. A few songs in, the beat to "Nightlight" dropped, and I had a mini-Jeff Tweedy breakdown. The lack of movement in the crowd was slightly unnerving. Immediately following, Aesop gave the crowd what they wanted-- his self proclaimed Vegas song, 'Daylight'. This was deserving of a phone call to my little brother, 13, who will come home from summer camp to a drunk dial message from his big sis.


The last time I saw Aesop Rock was at the small in comparison, Slim's in San Fransisco. The Pool substituted that intimacy for drunken madness, and Mr. Lif for a special appearance by El-P (who supposedly DJed at the Union Pool After Party-- maybe I had a few drinks too many, but I didn't see him in that fairly empty room). The soon to be a pool again was truly appreciated by the prolific hip-hoppers. That sentiment was brought to a bright & shiny light as Aesop yelled to the anticipating crowd, 'this is one of the best days of my career, right here'. It always feels good when the artist is just as happy as us to be there.


The 'After Party' definitely didn't live up to its promotion of 'telling Monday to shove it'. But, after hopping thru 3 Lorimer local bars to find Red Bull for my vodka, and some free pizza at Alligator Lounge, only to eventually find myself back at Union Pool... my Monday was definitely shoved.

As always, I had a wondrous time, and the sunburn to prove it.

Peep this for some real photo footage.

Secret Ingredients for an Early Thursday Buzz

1. Have a maximum of one beer at the Spring Lounge.

2. Walk for 10 minutes in the rain, until finally caving in to pay for a cab back to Brooklyn... even though you're only half a block from the J train.

3. Make sure the cab driver drops you off for a late dinner at Taco Santana.

4. Walk home, only to terrify strangers in your apartment with stories of your weekend escapades (see G-Rated version below).

5. Play some 2 Player Pengo at Barcade-- never to break 2500 points.

6. Stop for a Cheeseburger Deluxe at Bonita Bakery before climbing the 3 sets of dingy tenement stairs that lead to your exposed brick diamond in the rough of an apartment, crooked floors and all.

7. Ignore all of this, except for Step 5. Seriously.

Monday is the new Friday.

I'm still trying to piece together the events of the last few days. But, I've managed to hold on tight to the reigns of my high horse, thanks to Garment District apartment gems, shoes I gladly can't afford, and a meal made with love-- blessed, of course, by the 'mediocre comedy stylings' of Bernie Mac.

With that said, here's a brief (but not really) overview of the things I could actually repeat in a room full of strangers, which leaves us with a review of these good looking folks below & their first proper NYC show:

By sheer coincidence, a week before the beginning of what would become a drunken four day romp, I had been invited to a show by a band of a familiar name. Five years ago, Audrye Sessions were the stand out musicians in a large group of East Bay locals that entertained me at the time. And I must say, it was a true pleasure to hear the evolution of the Aud squad. They've ventured far past an abandoned airplane hanger filled with kegs of Fat Tire in Nowhere, California, to a serious Mercury Lounge set-- as well as The Music Hall of Williamsburg the night before.

Keeping all their good parts and trading in the rusty ones for some folkier sounds of the now on "New Year's Day", you could feel the Oakland love in the room. Those who stuck around after the show were treated by a delicious after dinner mint. A bit of intimate acoustic moonlighting at The Living Room by front man Ryan Karazija, who accompanied Mr. Scott Allbright of Poor Bailey with some music to kill yourself to... but in that really good 'if Conor Oberst & Patsy Cline had a baby' sort of way. The country twang of the guitar on "I'm Alright With You" was definitely cowboy boot approved-- namely by those on my own feet.

Looking forward to a New York City encore, fo' sho.

For a FREE download of Audrye's "Turn Me Off", touch me.

Preface

The avoidance of chronicling the episodic spectacles of my life on the interweb has gone on long enough. I'm at a point of over-saturation and I just can't help but want to share. Coming back to New York has been good to me, just real good stuff...

There will be magical stories to follow, I promise: