October 21, 2007
MAGIC, PART 2.
Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band
Madison Square Garden
October 18, 2007
Wednesday night was spent in a drop line that was ultimately disappointing. Given the ginormous drops of Hartford and even Philadelphia - Philly! - MSG should've been a piece of cake. Wait in the line, put in the time. When security came out around 8:30 - when we were about 50 people from the front of the line - to tell us there would be no more tickets, we went home, grumbling, praying for a setlist full of things like the world premiere of the "My Lover Man" into "Reno", followed by "Mary, Queen of Arkansas" and Bruce being so enamored of the crowd response to "Out In The Street" that he did it twice in the set, a la U2 and "Vertigo." We didn't miss much, and kept hoping that the usual "second night is the best night" truism would hold.
Night two we were ticketed and said our blessings to the drop line as we walked by them on our way into the Garden. Once inside and on the floor, it was crystal clear why there was a miniscule drop: the guest list. After a while, we stopped counting the passes that were initialed BS and JLM and the gazillion people who were likely sponsors or advertisers for Stevie's Underground Garage, and that's before Sony and the attorneys and the accountants and the random corporate whoevers, like the investment bankers to our left that had no less than 16 seats, all together, 4 rows of 4 seats. If you think that sounds like your worst nightmare come to life, let me assure you that it was and it wasn't: for the most part, they STFU, and their worst offense was taking photos of themselves being the High Fiving White Guys with their iPhones. No, I'm not kidding.
I haven't talked about the calliope yet. I love that it's a tribute to Terry, but I think it needs to be the last thing on stage as the band leave, and not the first thing we see. It does not fit and without the audience knowing that it's a tribute to Terry, and understanding who, exactly, Terry was, again, it makes no sense.
Am I the only one who wishes Bruce would come out with Nils and do "Open All Night" into "Radio Nowhere"? I know it's obvious, but opening with "Radio Nowhere" is already the superhero of obvious.
"Night" in the #2 slot and it's clear that Bruce has found his groove 9 shows in. The set is baked. This is where I'd like to talk about the imposter who looks unmistakably like Sugar Lips Miami Little Steven Van Zandt, the guy singing harmony and playing guitar - wait, let me try that again - PLAYING GUITAR. The curmugdeons always gravely insist that Patti's guitar is not miced, blah blah blah, when in reality it was Steve's guitar that was low in the mix most of the time. During Reunion, we were just glad he was back onstage. During Rising, we expected a little bit more, but were okay that it was mostly color he was providing up there. This time around, if he hadn't plugged in and practiced - well, most of the fan base still wouldn't care, but his presence onstage would start to be a joke.
"Lonesome Day" and now it's my turn to talk about Clarence. When Rising finished, we all talked in low, hushed tones about how tired he looked, how bad he looked, and the fact that the Big Man is easily 10 years older than a group of guys who are already in their 50's. It did my heart good at CAA and in Philly and now, again, here, to see him owning the stage not just by right but by active claim, to own it energetically, for him to be the Big Man.
"Gypsy Biker" is stronger but still needs work. "Magic" is the chatterbox song, but no one seems to be leaving the arena yet, which is some kind of miracle. The energy level is odd, and flat. I know we had the investment bankers in large number but to my right the entire 100 section from the front of the stage onward seems to be sitting on their hands, here we are now, entertain us, while the other side is going apeshit.
SPOILERS AHEAD.
"Reason To Believe" is still a powerhouse. It's funny to watch the audience - a little confused at first, with some recognition of the technique (not the song) from anyone who saw Devils & Dust, and then when the band careens into the bridge and that "La Grange"-ish knockoff, there's a cheer that's almost as loud as would be later for a certain setlist rarity, proving my point that the high fiving white guys that make up 80% of a Springsteen audience are suckers for any 8 bar blues riff. It's a delight, though, to see them successful wrangle a Nebraska song into something that still fits the song but also fits the setlist, unlike that trainwreck known as Johnny 99 on the Rising tour.
END SPOILER.
"Candy's Room" into "She's the One" and all I can offer as theory about the Darkness slot is that it's the sex slot. Magic is such a dark record, none of the other relationship songs would really fit into the set.
"Living In The Future" is next, complete with Bruce testifying about all those great American attributes:
"The Jersey Shore!"
*cheer*
"Cheeseburgers!"
*cheer*
"The Bill of Rights!"
The two of us cheer loudly and lustily, revealing ourselves for the colossal dorks that we are.
"C'mon! The Bill of Rights has got to get louder applause than cheeseburgers, I'm sure."
*feeble cheer*
"Damn, people? New York City?"
*cheer*, mostly because they're cheering New York City, even though most of the people in the room probably have zip codes from outside of the five boroughs.
"What else do we love? The Statue of Liberty!"
*cheer*
"Technically in New Jersey of course..."
"Great," I say to the boyfriend. "I see where this one is going."
"It's not in New Jersey any more."
"Thanks, you tell him that."
Bruce: "The NY football teams, the Jets and the Giants!"
All I can think is: Wow, we're really going to reprise the MSG Reunion tour rap for 'Light of Day'? Because, you know, no one was at those shows, no one bought the record, no one bought the DVD or saw it on PBS.
All of this was forgiven, however, with this excellent addition/clarification:
"Now, because of the color of your skin, or your circumstance, or your religion, you may feel that these things don't have much effect on you. But all of these things are an attack on our Constitution, which means they are an attack on our very selves. On who we are, and our moral authority, and the pride that we have when we get to stand up and say, we are the Americans. So this is a song about sleeping through things that shouldn't have happened, but happened. So we're going to do something about it right now - we're going to sing about it! It's a start, the rest is up to us."
Memo to Mr. Springsteen: if you're going to put your face up to the camera and sing right into it, please 1) take some lessons from Mr. Hewson about how to do it correctly, and 2) GET BIGGER VIDEO SCREENS. If you are going to charge $90 for the 400 level seats, they shouldn't need binoculars to see the screens.
"Are there any lovers out there tonight?" "Tougher Than The Rest" is something I never get tired of seeing, and on this tour, in the "Patti spot," it's touching, and appropriate. I love watching Bruce and Patti up there playing guitar together, and if I say something about shades of Johnny and June all sorts of folks will keel over at the sheer blasphemy of it, but it IS, and it's nothing but wonderful, and I'd like to see the two of them do a tour, together, with his stuff and her stuff and stuff they both love.
"As I was saying to the folks last night, patti's got a new record out, on sale at the concession stand, along with some lovely t-shirts, and a new line of E Street Band sexual toys. What we use in the comfort of our own home, you, too, can use in the comfort of yours. Go on out there and check it out."
It's kind of refreshing that he's still a horndog at age 58, isn't it?
The stage darkens, and Bruce starts with "This is a special dedication tonight to an old friend of mine," and my first thought is OH MY GOD PLEASE LET IT BE ED NORTON, because the last time Ed Norton made a setlist request it resulted in "The Promise" and "Incident" and "For You" at the Staples Center (and suspicion is high that the "Ed" getting recent setlist dedications is the same one.). I've got the world's tallest men in front of me, so I don't have a 100% clear vantage at all times, so when the boyfriend grabs my arm and murmurs, "There's a double bass onstage, and there are only two songs that feature a double bass," my mind immediately goes to the one song I am still chasing, and I clench my hands and pray hard and also pray just as hard that the bozo crowd doesn't ruin whatever this is going to be.
Bruce starts talking about his friendship with Peter Boyle, which is touching, and completely random, and when he dedicates the next song to him you know that it's not going to be some random Seeger Sessions song that they reworked with the double bass, fooling us all. And I know that they soundchecked "Jungleland" and I know it's been on setlists, but if you expected to get "Meeting Across The River" into "Jungleland," let me get your stock tips, too.
I have seen them before, too, and when the boyfriend was giving me random tour updates I was all, "Well, sure, okay," but it's not like it's on my active list, and if that sounds jaded, it's because there are only so many tours left and so many songs I still need or want to hear, and the magic required to invoke Meeting/Jungleland isn't exactly around in droves. It doesn't mean that I didn't stand there with my eyes closed, willing myself to absorb the song in through every pore of my body. I didn't want to watch this one on the screens, and didn't want to do the swaying-back-and-forth-on-tiptoes thing required to give me a vantage of the stage. And - Meeting! It's a favorite for me, because the lyrics are so sparse but yet so vivid, completely economical but yet paint a complete picture in your head. Their impact has not lessened one iota since the first time I listened to Born To Run, sitting on my purple carpet in my purple room, back against the door, Radio Shack headphones on, album open to the lyrics on my lap.
Of course, there was no guarantee that they would go into "Jungleland," and when the first notes sounded, it was the sound of 18000-some people being relieved and delighted and excited and every other possible emotion. Even the ones that didn't get the exact, precise significance of this song being on the setlist still know that it's "Jungleland" and it's a fucking great song. And for the rest of us, it's, well, "Jungleland," and I realized that until you are standing there listening to it you don't realize how deep it will hit you, how profound the experience truly is, especially in New York, especially at MSG. It makes you feel alive and sad and enlightened and brave and the same tumult of emotions I felt the first time I heard it, mixed with some level of OMFG, JUNGLELAND, and Jungleland with the boyfriend for the first time. The investment bankers look bemused and kind of stop with the high-fiving for a little while, because they are surrounded by people who are clearly enraptured and they don't know why, and suddenly seem a little sheepish more than anything. For me, it is the rallying cry of the tribe, and the rallying cry of my tribe, and who I am, and who I chose to be the first time I heard that record and let the words paint the pictures for me. I have tried to write about "Jungleland" for years and have always fallen flat on my ass each and every time. It is the ultimate example of one of Bruce's key traits, the ability to raise the mundane to the sacred.
We get like half a second to catch our breath before being thrown into "You Can Look But You Better Not Touch", which is odd, and bemusing, and I grumble that if they were going to trainwreck us like this they could have done "Crush On You" or "Held Up Without A Gun," but with the next song it's clear, because "Devil's Arcade" becomes the beer run song, and he didn't want that to happen immediately after "Jungleland." Okay.
I've discussed the end of the set before, and while I think it holds up thematically, I think there is still too much sludge there, that there is probably another order in which to present those songs. And "Badlands" as the set closer is fine, but "Last To Die" or :"Long Way Home" would be equally strong IF THEY WERE MOVED TO THAT POSITION because they would have no choice but to become strong enough to close the set.
Before I go and trash the encore again, let me say that I liked "Thundercrack" being there, and that it works in the back of the house, that people paid more attention to it than they did to the Magic material, and there are enough random people to keep it moving energetically. So I hope it makes it through Chicago and Minneapolis and everywhere else. But the rest of the encore is just a trainwreck. I don't[ care that Bono thinks "Girls In Their Summer Clothes" is the hit of the record, get it out of the encore. And dude, Brian Wilson called.
Waiting for the floor to empty out after the show, the boyfriend looked on the floor and found a $20 program lying there, discarded by someone. We happily picked it up and gave it a good home, only to discover that it's probably the worst program ever. It's a glorified, overgrown Magic cd booklet, and my word, we are heartily tired of Danny Clinch.
Walking home after the show, I couldn't escape the feeling that 1) the set is baked and 2) the band is baked and 3) I am not sure how many more of these I need to see. I know I was thoroughly disappointed by the energy level at MSG, which is part of the problem, but was not all of the problem. I am concerned that it's going to start being like D&D where people were chasing shows in ridiculous multiples because Bruce was cracking open the back catalog and you'd sit through a set for one or two miracles, but it wasn't like the rest of the set was evolving or expanding as the tour went on. I don't see the place in this setlist for the band to expand or evolve; on Rising, you had things like "World's Apart" and "the Fuse" where they had to find a way to enliven and develop the material or it would have had to get killed from the setlist. There are songs on Magic that could serve that purpose, but the songs on Magic are also not as challenging for the band as the Rising songs were; Bruce already admitted he wrote the Magic songs with the band in mind.
The encore has got to be reworked. i know bruce likes American Land, but the energy it's generating is artificial and forced, they're relating positively to the music because it's some kind of macho Irish jig and it's an excuse to jump on chairs and act like fools after 2 1/2 hours. I don't mind the party encore, but I also kind of still want the serious encore, too, and this is where I'll talk about how some ways I feel Bruce shortchanges the set - the band introductions seem like an afterthought, for example, and while I don't need an 18 minute 10th Avenue to accomplish that, the introductions for a 9 piece band are necessary and a tradition I do not want to lose in 2007 just because we're trying to keep the show shorter. On the other hand, there are parts of the show that could be tightened up - the instrumental end to Radio Nowhere, for example, doesn't need to play out to the very last note, and there are other parts of the show where things could be tightened up for economy of time and space and attention.
The encore is high fructose corn syrup, empty calories. As much as I like "Thundercrack" getting out of Asbury, I think that it's a random catalog pull and not, let's treat the rest of the world to something special. The encore is not solid, it's not constructed with the same detail and care as the set is, it's everything jammed together into 30 minutes and there is no City of Ruins or other anything thoughtful to inspire you or make you think. I understand that we're done with City of Ruins and If I should Fall Behind but there's a missing gravitas that is not doing the audience any kind of favor. It's unfortunate. I'm thankful I have the Boston shows before we move onto the stadiums, because I can't see this problem being solved there. And let's remember, the stadiums got City of Ruins too, it's not a case that the stadiums can't take the serious encore.
Ultimately, who knows. It's just a rock and roll show, 12 shows into the tour. Maybe it all works just fine for everyone in the audience except for the trainspotting geeks like yours truly. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it.
--
Coming next: Boston
May 21, 2007
May 03, 2007
one year anniversary: greenpoint terminal market fire
Two blocks from my house. See the whole flickr set from the fire here.
April 10, 2007
April 08, 2007
the carnegie hall springsteen tribute
Damon Gough is my new hero. No, wait, I'll explain.
Listen: Patti was, well, Patti, and there's no way in hell Steve Earle could fuck up "Nebraska". The Bacon Brothers were passable. Joseph Arthur played a "Born In The USA" with strength and guts. Pete Yorn made me like him despite my best intentions, mostly because he was more than happy to give us a pre-show interview and because the interview was lacking artifice on any level. M. Ward was unfortunate, as the band was playing the full band version while he was playing a solo acoustic version of "I'm Going Down" and it was a little bit of a train wreck. I thanked the deities for a piano-only version of "Serenade" and wanted to shoot the Low Stars, whoever they are, for butchering "One Step Up". Jesse Malin and Ronnie Spector was well-intended, but poorly executed, and it just made me sad. The Jersey Guys made everyone around us say the same thing: Why is someone playing a Tom Waits song?
My top five performances:
1. Badly Drawn Boy aka Damon Gough: Thunder Road. The only Born To Run appearance. More below.
2. Odetta, "57 Channels": may I some day be this cool.
3. The Hold Steady, "Atlantic City": and I don't even like them. At all. (That might change.) Noted that I DO NOT SEE ANY SPRINGSTEEN COMPARISON WHATSOEVER except that once upon a time Bruce used a lot of words in his songs.
4. Josh Ritter, "The River": a musician not even on my radar grabbed my attention with the Springsteen-esque introduction and heartfelt (but not identical) performance.
5. Marah and "The Rising". Major props for playing something recent. Kudos for accomplishing what Bruce could not, using bagpipes onstage. And Adam Garbinski clearly knows every single word to "Rosalita" and doesn't care who knows it.
Special props to Elysian Fields for "Streets of Fire" (hell, Bruce doesn't even do it any more) and the chops to be the house band all night in front of a very tough crowd.
But Badly Drawn Boy was something else altogether.
We wanted to talk to him before the show, because he's on record as being THE Springsteen fan of all Springsteen fans, the musician that wears his Bruce heart on his sleeve shamelessly. He's obsessed. He's one of us. All of this was clear. And he was the only musician with the guts to not just take something from Born To Run but take THE song from Born To Run. "Thunder Road" is Bruce's touchstone, it's his doppelganger, it's his nemesis, it's his salvation. It's the one song - to him.
And Damon knows this, I mean, there is no way he doesn't know it because he's a songwriter and because he's a fan and he's read everything there is to read and knows everything there is to know, and hell, he may have read my article in Backstreets from the Somerville shows in 2003, where Bruce laid it on the table for us in re: "Thunder Road".
At Carnegie Hall. In New York City. Across the river from New Jersey, full of people who sincerely applauded every time the state was mentioned, not the usual knee-jerk "Bruce is from Jersey so we applaud New Jersey" response, but people with actual pride in being from the state. Fans who had "Stand On It" as their ringtone (it was funny the first time it went off behind us. Not so funny the second time.)
Forget the audience, look at the musicians onstage. You're playing with a diverse group of accomplished folks, including Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees - okay, fuck that, you're playing with Patti Smith and Ronnie Spector and Steve Earle to start with, and other people who are hardly small shakes.
Badly Drawn Boy walks out on the Carnegie Hall stage, harmonica in hand, a little uncertain: "I'm thrilled but I'm terrified," he said. That was when we realized he was doing the full band version, none of this wussy singer-songwriter acoustic "Thunder Road" crap for Damon, no, this was his chance and he was going to go for it. All the accolades in the world, all the positive reviews, all of the stars in Q and Melody Maker don't matter much now. This is the culmination of a lifetime (and I realize this is a dramatisation, because the guy has a rich and successful songwriting career, but there's no way this wasn't a monumental thing).
He began tentatively, almost like a guy in a bar singing karaoke with his friends, and then relaxed into it some more, he realized that he could do this and that we were with him, and as he sang, I got goosebumps. It had to be the rawest, most naked thing I'd seen on stage in years. Not raw as in unpracticed, but raw as in honest and true and real and unadorned. This was a fan singing Bruce for Bruce and for himself and for us. In that moment, more than anyone else who had been on that stage, or was going to be on that stage, he was one of us. I am rooting for him to kick ass and take names and I don't even know him or know his music all that well, but it didn't matter. This was the kind of feeling I had when Patti or the Ramones or the Clash got inducted into the Hall of Fame: one of us finally makes the big time.
He could have picked any other song, he could have picked "Mary, Queen of Arkansas" and played it safe, done it acoustically, kept it standard. But he didn't.
I'm still kind of dazed about Bruce showing up. Of course, the problem was that, for me (and for probably 1/4 of the audience) the jig was up once we spotted Kevin Buell (Bruce's roadie) onstage. (And to be fair, I did know ahead of time, because we were at the press reception - but it wouldn't have been the first time Bruce was unofficially slated to appear and then changed his mind for whatever reason.)
I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad and all (beyond all possible gladness) but it was so - unexpected - and so much had happened onstage and now, here he is, singing a version of "Rosalita" that will go down in history, and not just because of the attempt to summarize the song during what would have been the bridge.
The encore: Was a cast of thousands coming on the stage, Dave Peterson (who plays drums in Marah) bringing out his relatively new baby to be part of it all.
"Volunteers for verses?" Himself asks.
Badly Drawn Boy steps forward before the words are out of his mouth.
Craig Finn steps up next, raises a hand.
Jesse Malin comes up last.
And it's "Rosalita," again, but it's like the last day of class in the auditorium, it's that Phoenix 78 version come to life with a dozen Bruces being goofy and abandoned onstage. Everyone is going crazy and dropping veneers of cool, jockeying for the front, dancing around like crazy, unabashed geekiness, people goodnaturedly jockeying for position at the microphone with Bruce and knowing that they were doing this because they don't ever know when they'll do it again, and the crowd is of course almost louder than the stage at this point, three hours of sitting quietly and behaving (for the most part, thank you) are now over. "I ain't here on business, baby, I'm only here for fun." I get to sing "Rosie" with the boyfriend, and with Bruce, and with Marah, and everyone else on that stage.
The best part of it all is this: it was a GREAT night before he walked out on that stage.
March 29, 2007
somewhere, bill graham is rolling in his grave
brooklynvegan: The Fillmore New York at Irving Plaza
Upon entering the venue, there will be fresh apples for hungry live music aficionados and a greeter to let them know about upcoming shows. The walls will be painted a deep red hue and the refurbished chandeliers will shine light on vintage posters, pictures and newspaper articles recounting legendary live music performances. After the show, a collectible poster commemorating the evening will be distributed to concert goers, a tradition that will continue for select shows throughout the year.
Yeah, there's a place that does that already - it's called THE FILLMORE in SAN FRANCISCO. The *real* one.
Like a commenter said elsewhere, it doesn't matter. It'll always be Irving Plaza, just like Webster Hall is still the Ritz, the PNC Bank Arts Center is the Garden State Arts Center, and Tweeter Center is Great Woods. '
But it's not about the name. Transferring the name of the Fillmore to Irving Plaza doesn't suddenly invest Irving with the history and the gravitas, if you will, that the Fillmore had. It doesn't suddenly put the reincarnation of Bill Graham on earth running the show with an eye towards being kind and fair (or unfair, depending on how you look at it) to fans and bands.
As a society we're desperate for authenticity, so we try to buy it. It's stupid in this case because Irving Plaza has enough of its own history. There were great shows there in the 80s, legendary lineups. I saw Johnny Thunders there - I have a poster in my office right now of a legendary Thunders show at IP. In the 80s there was the new guard, with the Replacements and Husker Du and so many nights spent at 15th & Irving that it's a blur. There is history there. It's a great room that I have nothing but fond memories of.
It doesn't need to play "Greensleeves" at the end of shows (and for the love of god please at least play the authentic version and not Sheryl fucking Crow) or have a tub of apples in the front lobby for Irving Plaza to be a worthwhile venue. It already is. These gestures won't mean a damn thing, because the Fillmore wasn't about empty gestures, it was what the gestures stood for. "Greensleeves" was a much more civilized way to signify to concertgoers that the show was over and it was time to leave than to have enormous obnoxious bouncers screaming "WE'RE CLOSED... MOVE DOWNSTAIRS" "GET OUT OF HERE, TIME TO LEAVE". The apples were a welcoming gesture, and that will mean nothing if the security and staff continue to treat patrons like we just got off the bus from Rikers. (And to be fair, I have generally been treated well at Irving. Generally. It was never the Ritz.)
Will the legendary Bill Graham concern for sound and atmosphere and overall experience suddenly be implanted upon Irving Plaza (or the TLA in Philly, which will get the same bogus treatment)? A free poster at the end of the night doesn't suddenly change everything.
On the subject of posters, the poster geek in me wonders if these will be BGP edition posters, numbered and all, and/or what this does to the legendary BGP imprimateur of the poster world? BGP posters used to be a sound investment, which is fine when they were limited to a select number of venues. It'll be interesting to see what happens on that front.
I don't know if it's worse for this to be happening to a venue that does have history. I'm surprised, frankly, that Live Nation isn't trying to foist this upon a new venue. These trappings would just be a joke.
Finally, 99% of the people going to these venues won't know the history of things like the apples, the posters and "Greensleeves", so why not just choose new traditions that make sense? I don't know what I'd substitute instead but differentiate yourselves with customer service that's actually serving the customer, not just a hollow duplication of something someone else thought of.
December 06, 2006
the packrat's dream
The next time someone asks me why I'd like to spend four hours in a record store, or why I can't resist going through the vinyl at the Goodwill, I'll point them to this:eBay: VELVET UNDERGROUND & NICO 1966 Acetate LP ANDY WARHOL (item 300054910309 end time Dec-08-06 20:27:23 PST)
October 16, 2006
the last chord: cbgb's last day
There was no enormous emotional wallop as I got off the 6 train and walked down Bleecker to CB’s, probably because that was never the way I walked to the club back in the day: the stop was too dangerous and that block of Bleecker to be avoided at all costs. If I had been thinking, I would have gotten off at Astor Place and walked down Bowery; to my mind, in my mind, that's the 'proper' approach. Chapter 2 of my novel starts with the main character running to CB's that very route. But I was nervous, and 100% certain that, previous evidence to the contrary, there would be 1000 people in line already, so I opted for the quickest route instead of the most ceremonial. Now I'm sorry I didn't.
Like the lunatic that I am, I arrived at 4pm to get on line. There were maybe 20 people ahead of me, and only half of them had tickets. We were unified by the fact that we became zoo animals instantaneously. Every person who walked by took a picture, bought a t-shirt, gawked at non-stop. Tour buses, SUV's with Pennsylvania plates stopping, rolling down a window, arm with a camera sticking out. it's been here for 33 years, I wanted to yell. 7 days a week, you could have come down here and gone inside. most of us are slightly aghast at the entire thing. We contemplate providing all photographers with "the CBGB's salute" as their background; instead, I make a sign reading STOP GENOCIDE IN DARFUR and hold that up instead. It's not that I'm particularly active in that cause, it's just that the complete and total out-of-proportion coverage, and willingness to interview the lamp post in front of the club began to wear a little thin.
Patti walks in, she is engulfed in cameras. The freak show is in full force. Crazy babbling homeless guys, random village idiots, some long-haired moron with a harmonium that we start calling Kenny G, and David Peel (as in David Peel and the Lower East Side). He later joins forces with a handful of other musicians and they start playing a song for the cameras:
"goodbye, CBGB's
Punk rock forever
Forever punk rock!"
The composition was soundly derided by just about everyone in our group, but I did feel the need to point out that, on some level, it wasn't that far from "Hanging out on Second Avenue, eating Chicken vindaloo".
I had brought a book, a radio, things to keep me occupied. None of it got used. Morons walk by and ask "is it sold out?" along with the classic, "where's the line for ticket holders?"
We point towards Houston St.
"No, no, we have tickets," they stress.
"So do we."
They look at us in disgust and go ask at the door. We see the bouncer's arm pointing south.
Later, a noted line jumper of my acquaintance attempted the classic line cutting move entitled "But I'm Just Going To Talk To My Friends [Gesture At Front Of Line]". Unfortunately for her, she tried it right next to me.
And this was all before the fucking door opened at 8pm.
I couldn't get my mind over it being the end, or how I was supposed to feel about it being the end. How many clubs have I seen close in my lifetime? I never cried because the Marquee Club closed, or the Fillmore shuttered its doors. As I like to remind people, I didn't make it to CB’s until well after the fact. My years there were chasing Sonic Youth and a whole host of other bands of the post-punk/new alternative era, some forgotten, some less so. I can't even tell you the name of the band who I used to go to see every Tuesday night over about three months, always in the 1am slot, because I wanted them to hire me to take their promo photos. By the time I snuck into CB’s for the first time, everyone was long gone. The closest kinship to those days (aside from spirit) was the ritual of sitting on the sidewalk outside the club and saying hi to Lenny Kaye as he walked his dogs down Bowery. I seriously impressed a whole gaggle of bands from Austin one night in 1985 when Lenny walked by and we started talking. After their jaws came off the concrete, I made the introductions, and for the rest of the night the bands treated me as though I was some kind of punk rock goddess.
I remember the club in tunnelvision, which is not exactly inaccurate because the club is a tunnel. I was either arriving late and running to the front, arriving early and running to the front, or arriving really, really early and helping some band carry their equipment in. But I never paused much between the front door and the stage. I always stood in the same place - well, after getting kicked in the head at an unfortunate toasters gig in the 80s I always stood in the same place: far house right, against the speaker stack. I would bring one earplug so I could stand there and not lose half my hearing.* I also liked that side because I didn't want to be in the interminable procession to the bathroom or the dressing rooms. I never sat at the bar, I never played pool there, I never went to the ladies' room, I never had to order bad white wine to fulfill the two-drink minimum at the tables, and I never ever bought a fucking t-shirt.
Last night was not quiet communion or ritual contemplation. It was a media circus, a colossal hassle, a shoving match inside. You had the one chick who always complains that you are trying to get in front of her (no, seriously, she does this at every show), you had the enormous guy and his wife who shove you out of the way to get to the stage (and this dude was a Mets fan, I was trading scores with him all night until he knocked this tiny little photographer chick from Olympia sideways), the wacko in the front row who lectures you on how they know the band so you better not touch them, the drunk moron walking sideways through the crowd, and as always, the skinhead idiot in a Ramones shirt who wants to slamdance through every single song and when people attempt to calm him down, lectures us all that none of us really understand this music.
In short, a typical night at CB’s.
She began with the book held open, reading. Reading "Piss Factory," and the emotional resonance is so obvious and so overwhelming I wonder how I'm going to get through the rest of the night. I have a necklace that has the last two lines of that song engraved on it:
"and I will travel light./oh, watch me now."
And to think that for about half an hour I debated whether or not I needed to be here tonight.
The first half of the show was quieter, lacked a little punch; the monitors were bothering all of them (except Lenny) and they had to start several songs over again because of bum notes all over. The cameras, the live radio broadcast, none of this boded well - "Pale Blue Eyes" and "Kimberly" into "The Tide Is High" and Richard Lloyd onstage for "Marquee Moon" notwithstanding.
They took a short break and came back, and the radio was supposed to be off; apparently it wasn't, but thinking that it was seemed to help, as Patti had more energy. Then again, coming out and starting with "Sonic Reducer," one of the CBGB top 10, certainly didn't hurt. OMG, that was fucking awesome. There was a Ramones medley from Lenny and Tony Shanahan that was sweet, and they did a phenomenal cover of "Gimme Shelter" that gave me goosebumps. "We just learned this one, you might be familiar with it, so if you are, please sing along." Pause, beseeching look: "FEEL FREE."
Just before what would become "Rock n Roll Nigger," Richard Lloyd comes onstage, and as one would expect from Richard Lloyd, there is much discussion about tunings. Patti turns around: "Lloyd. *I* just played guitar. No one is going to notice if you hit a few wrong notes." It was the directive of one long-time friend to another, and we just happened to be eavesdropping.
I would guess that I haven't heard Patti do "My Generation" for 30 years. This is the one that made the most sense to me, the one I would have wanted to hear if you'd given me the cover list and asked me to choose. This version was so blasphemous when it was released, Who fans are still up in arms over it. Flea did a kick-ass Entwistle interpretation (note: not imitation) during the bass solo. "WE CREATED IT, YOU TAKE IT OVER," she exhorted us. When it was over, the woman next to me, with whom I had bonded around the time of "Free Money," noted: "Now we're part of history!"
"Land" at the end, not as incendiary as it can be, but it was already well after Patti Lee's bedtime and it did the job just fine. This all changed during the segue into "Gloria," where the sense of finality and farewell started to sink in, and I started to cry, and the grey-haired woman with the elegant cheekbones in front of me started to cry, and then Patti is openly weeping, which didn't help either of us.
"Elegie" is to be expected, but what was not expected was the reading of the list of names, those in the family who are no longer here. I cheered loudest for Lester and for Helen Wheels and for Peter Laughner and for anyone who was lesser known, JT and Jerry Nolan did not need my applause. She choked up at the end, second-to-last name, Richard Sohl.
But it was the last series of names read that did us all in - at least if you have any semblance of a heart and soul. Slowly, shakily, haltingly, Patti reads:
"Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee."
I am crying now, again, writing this here, and all bets were off when I am standing two rows from the place where that band was born.
"Patti, you forgot someone,” from a voice in the crowd.
"Who?"
A bunch of names are yelled.
"Fred." the voice insists.
She stops, I am unsure whether that was inappropriate or touching, and then she smiles:
"They're all here, whether I read their name or not."
As soon as it was obvious it was over I said brief goodbyes to the people in my immediate vicinity and made my way out. Everyone was pushing forward, wanting something, wanting to not have to leave, wanting to not say goodbye, wanting the evening to not be over. It took forever to get out, and I was almost glad, taking the mental photographs: the bar with its roof and railings that I always tripped on. The canyon of neon signs. The uneven floorboards. The ancient band fliers everywhere. The stickers, likewise. Jesse Malin at the bar. Bob Gruen holding court.
I slow down as the exit approaches. Snap, snap, snap, all in my head, as though I couldn't build a movie set from my memory as it already existed.
The door. I pause, touch the door jamb with my palm as though a mezuzah is there, but I meant the gesture in the same way.
Prayer.
Benediction, for myself as much as for the place.
A breath, a goodbye, and I push open the doors.
A million people taking my photo, a huge crowd, someone offering to buy my wristband, other people asking me if I knew what the score was (I was wearing my Cliff Floyd t-shirt, who is my favorite player for the Mets) - of course I forgot to mention that I was keeping up with the playoff game during the show, via text message and an insane friend who was listening to the game and the show. I grab the boyfriend's hand, I start to walk, I feel like lot's wife in that I don't want to look back but I can't not look back. What will that block be? What will happen here? Will people still come here on Joey’s birthday and leave flowers? Where do we go when the next one of us passes?
But for now, we say goodbye, and we mourn a little.
flickr feed here
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*I did do serious damage to my hearing at CB’s, but not when you think I would have: it was at a Dictators reunion show during the CBGB anniversary week in December 94. I remember sitting in Kiev after the show and being asked to leave because we were all screaming at each other because our ears were ringing so hard.
October 04, 2006
what year is this?
check the (alleged) CBGB schedule for next week:
Oct 13 - The Dictators, Sic F*cks, Bullys (tix on sale Thursday @ noon)
Oct 14 - BLONDIE?
Oct 15 - Patti Smith (SOLD OUT)
IT WOULD BE SO GREAT IF ALL OF THIS DIDN'T COINCIDE WITH THE METS IN THE PLAYOFFS
(Don't worry, I'm going the 15th. Like there was a choice?)
via Brooklyn Vegan
September 28, 2006
SIGNS OF THE APOCALYPSE
EXHIBIT 1:
Yes. That's Chris Cornell gracing a NYC bus shelter, doing a John Varvatos ad.
EXHIBIT 2:
Bruce admiring the wave, at the House of Evil, sitting in George Steinbrenner's personal seats. Ya called off the public rehearsal shows for this?
*sigh*
September 11, 2006
August 19, 2006
wythe ave., northside williamsburg
this stood out blocks away, like a meteor in the sky on this grey day. even via cameraphone this couldn't photograph anything less than magnificent.
July 20, 2006
no more cbgb's nostalgia
Hilly just killed anything I had left with his quote in this story:
"You can get a house for $400,000 or $500,000 with a swimming pool."
That's his quote about one of the reasons he likes Las Vegas.
This is the man we donated money to? This is the man that people are playing benefit shows for? Most of those people can't afford half a million dollar houses.
pfft.
February 17, 2006
rock the line
This should be interesting:
ROCK THE LINE
Written by Kathleen Warnock
Directed by Steven McElroy
In Rock the Line, seven hardcore fans meet in the parking lot of a club in a Rust Belt town to renew their faith in rock and roll and its patron saint, Patti Roxx. Having traveled long and hard to be at the show, their love of her music is the best thing in most of their lives. But before the doors even open, they must first face each other.
I have heard that the Patti Roxx character is based on Joan Jett. I first wanted to see this because the story line seemed very close to a screenplay I'm working on, but now I'm breathing a sigh of relief because it seems to be going in a totally different direction. I'm still looking forward to seeing it next week. At the Emerging Artists Theatre.
January 02, 2006
happy new year at the poetry marathon
There is something calming and grounding about sitting for three hours or more and listening to poetry on New Year's Day... I try to last longer than that but hunger or my rear end usually starts to complain. (A better strategy, and one I will endeavor to apply next year, would be to arrive earlier in the afternoon, listen for an hour or two, go out for a break, and then come back by 6:30 or 7 for the prime time readings. I will also bring a stadium cushion.)
The usual suspects were right on target: John S. Hall with a new sing-a-long ditty entitled "American Torturer"; Lenny Kaye with unpublished liner notes for a now cancelled "Save CBGB" benefit album; John Giorno slotted just in time when we were all about to doze off, always high-energy and beautiful and wry; Steve Earle was there this year (was he there last year? Don't remember) reading from a work-in-progress, a play about New Orleans; Taylor Mead unforgettable as always.
My own personal favorites this year: Avra Koufmann talking about New Yorkers, "those of us born here or born to come here"; Willie Perdomo quoting KRS-One and my notes fail me here; Kimiko Hahn with poems inspired by the NY Times science section; and the list goes on. And on. And on. The photo of the sanctuary above features Jim Carroll at the podium, looking so much better than last year (although last year's reading was hysterical and I can still quote it: "Don't forget the fucking cookies.")
On principle, I always wait at least 30 minutes after Patti Smith reads (because there is always a stampede out the door once that happens), but yesterday I was too hungry and hung over to care. I was glad she sang "Gandhi," just herself on acoustic guitar, glowing as always, instead of reading something new, because my big fear was that I was so worn out I wouldn't have been able to absorb it.
This event is a treasure and one of the best things about living in New York.
December 08, 2005
11222: my moblog
I'm announcing the debut of 11222. 11222 is my zip code, and the idea is for it to be a quasi-moblog/place for images and *quick* thoughts on the city, the borough and the neighborhood.
December 07, 2005
October 07, 2005
shark jumped. officially.
Interior Design: The Final Frontier - New York Times
When the New York Times finds it upon itself to write about the BATHROOMS at CBGB.
IN THE INTERIOR DESIGN SECTION
something has come to a screeching halt with this. Not sure what.
August 11, 2005
judge rules cb's can't be evicted
CNN.com - Judge: Punk landmark CBGB's can't be evicted - Aug 11, 2005
August 02, 2005
save cbgb, pt 2
around 10:30pm tonight
Tonight was the big media event, Blondie and Jesse Malin and the Star Spangles and the Brian Jonestown Massacre and Mickey Leigh and the Rattlers and Jean Beauvoir singing Ramones songs and everyone was there, Lenny Kaye and Handsome Dick Manitoba and Sami Yaffa (who now plays in Jesse's band) and the Waldos and Ivan Julian is wandering around outside and Ted Leo and Legs McNeil and Tommy Ramone and John Holstrom... and taking a leadership role is now none other than Mr. Steven Van Zant, aka Silvio, aka Sugar Miami Steve, aka Underground Garage maven extraordinaire. No Patti Smith, no rumored Wayne Kramer/HDM pairing, and no, Stevie did not play either (which I would have been way down to see; Billboard claimed he was going to, but the boyfriend asked, only to be told: "I'm a retired businessman. I don't play any more.")
I couldn't get into the main event, but the sideshow in the Gallery wasn't too bad either, and having all those people in the same immediate area has got to be good energy. Besides which, I think I've spent as much time sitting/standing outside CB's as I have inside the place, so the fact that tonight was also like that just felt like business as usual. In many ways, tonight could have been any night at CB's: scenesters and rock stars and bums from the shelter upstairs alternately panhandling or just getting in your face, the tourists who had never been there, the underage kids (or at least the ones with bad fake ID) standing outside hoping to catch a note or two.
I just decided to overlook the fact that I hadn't spent a night doing that for about 10 years, if not longer. The important thing was: once I did. Once it meant everything. The first time I saw the awning on Bowery and pulled the front door open and walked into that room -- it felt like visiting Jerusalem. That place was magic.
At some point I'm going to have to make my peace with this and say goodbye.
June 16, 2005
do it NOW: write a letter to save cbgb
Project Save CBGB & OMFUG: Send us your #$%#@@ landmark letter!
I sent mine. You should send yours. Or explain to me why you didn't.
May 08, 2005
save cbgb
Everyone I know who doesn't live in NYC keeps asking me this, and up until now, I haven't had anything I could send them to. Finally, there is an effort to save the club that I feel comfortable promoting and supporting:
Project Save CBGB & OMFUG is not paid for by the owner of CB's and is supported by the roster of artists I would expect to see backing a sincere, legit, positive and productive effort to save the club. Getting landmark status for CBGB is a fantastic start.
