Music: November 2005 Archives

(sorry, I ran out of inspiration for titles right around the same time I ran out of inspiration to finish this series of posts...which, I realize, has been holding up the rest of my posts...which, on the other hand, would mostly have echoed Mrs. Dave's over the past month since we've been pretty much flying in the same circles...end parentheses!)

After getting back so early from the Boston show the night before, I thought I was in pretty good shape for the last night of the big run - a quick (?!) jaunt to New York and back, on a Sunday night, with work the next morning. Oy.

To avoid having to drive into Times Square in late afternoon, the wife had the brilliant idea of stopping short in Stamford, CT, and taking the train in. Turns out that Grand Central is a mere four blocks or so from Times Square, and it's a straight shot. Groovy.

The drive down was uneventful though a bit fast (I left a half-hour later than I was expecting) and a bit nervous at the end as I wasn't sure if I'd run out of gas before I got there. Now, a minor digression, in the name of your fiscal safety should you decide to choose poorly as far as which parking garage you choose. There are two parking garages. Use the one closer to the station. Upon parking in the first one I came to, I was walking out when I saw a sign saying that the garage closed at midnight. Considering the SHOW wouldn't be ending until after then, I got a little panicked. However, a security guard told me I could go into the building next door (a business center) and get the guard on duty to open the door for me when I came back. He somehow neglected to tell me that it would cost me THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS for approximately seven hours of parking. Blissfully unaware at the moment, I sauntered into the station, got my ticket, and was off to New York.

Rolled into Grand Central an hour later, managed to walk the four blocks to Times Square without cudgeling anyone with my mic stand, and found the with little to no difficulty. No hassles at the door, though it's the first venue where I've ever taken an escalator DOWN to see the show. As it turns out, the place is below the MTV building, and is a converted movie theater. They actually left some movie seats up top in the back, and I guess the view is good from up there, but who wants to be that far back when you can have your own taping section dead center in the sweet spot?! Seriously, this might be quite possibly the best-set-up venue ever for taping. You walk in on the middle level, and you can go down three steps to the lower level that runs up to the stage. At the front of the middle level is a railing where people can stand and overlook the lower level, and they had an area literally taped off on the floor for us tapers to set up. No obstructions, no running slightly left or right of center to avoid blocking the view of the soundman - nope, we had four stands dead fucking center, in a perfect triangle with the speaker stacks on either side of the stage. Best. Layout. Ever. And four stands! Admittedly, it's a bit short for a New York show but throw in three or four patchers and it's a pretty good showing. Me, Scott, Alan and Freddie ran stands, I had one patcher, Rick patched from Freddie, and Freddie ran another deck for our buddy Redbone. Good times all around.

Carbon Leaf opened the night; it was my third time seeing them and probably the mellowest set of theirs I'd seen. They played a festival with Guster in Pittsburgh in '03 (oy, now that was a drive), I went to see them on a frigid night at Harper's Ferry in early '04 (great show but my rig died and the tape is incomplete, but a long, good show) and now this set. A mere 46 minutes long...I really should see them the next time they come to Boston as they put on a good show. Check out the recording if you're so inclined.

BT always comes out firing for a hometown show and this was no exception. It was a little surprising not to hear them lead off with their typical hometown song (Dropping Some NYC, which they never even played in the set), but Freedom gave the set an appropriately older-school vibe. When the second tune came up as Slow Change, the tone was set. Slow Change segued into Eventually, and then a high-energy Pattern, and the crowd was boiling. Unfortunately, then they went all stunty on us and pulled out quite possibly the biggest show-stopper ever (and I don't mean that in a good way).

As part of their promotional junket (not really a junket, but how often do you get to write junket anyway? and does anyone else remember Junket pudding? does anyone remember where I was? oh yeah...promotional junket). As part of their promotional junket, the band stopped by Howard Stern earlier in September. John has been friendly with Howard for quite some time - he's been appearing on the show at least since 1996, possibly earlier. This time the entire band stopped by, but before they did, they had apparently caught wind of Staind doing a cover of a song known as the "Beetlejuice Song". For those of you unfamiliar with the tune, first of all, consider yourselves fortunate. It was written by a member of Howard's passel of studio regulars, who goes by the name Beetlejuice because of his smaller-than-normal head (you may remember the final scene of the Michael Keaton vehicle, where the title character's head is sprinkled with some magic dust that - you guessed it - causes his head to shrink).

At any rate, due entirely to his studio time with Howard, Beetlejuice has written some "songs" and gotten them played on the air on Howard's show, after which Staind came on and covered the tune in their own inimitable (well, maybe it's quite imitable, but whatever) fashion. Enter BT, who did the same thing a few weeks later. Well, ever since then, there were numerous meatheads at every show in the northeast clamoring for the band to play the tune live. But because Howard records the show in New York, the band decided to save this lyrical gem for the New York crowd. Their hometown crowd. And immediately turn the show into a farce.

They segued into their single, and then into the one other song they'd written that sounds like their single, and by the time they got around to playing Support Your Local Emperor, the buzz was completely and thoroughly killed. Things picked back up at the end of the set with a lengthy Go Outside & Drive segue, ending in an ear-lashing NY Prophesie, and when they began the encore with Sweet Talking Hippie, I thought we might be in for a great ending...but they still have yet to properly finish the song like they used to, instead segueing into the lightweight Thinnest Of Air to send their fans off. A letdown overall to be sure.

Thankfully, the best two parts of the evening still awaited me - Scott and I walked back to Grand Central together, where he introduced me to the gastronomic joy that is the knish vendor outside the station - we each partook of two (with mustard, of course) and discussed life, the universe, and everything while I awaited my train's platform announcement. Then, while boarding my train, I saw a guy I recognized from the show who had come up to introduce himself between Carbon Leaf and BT, so I sat with him and his friend on the way back to Stamford as they recounted their days of seeing the band at the Wetlands, all over New York City, and show after show in southern Connecticut. They said they'd gone to the trouble of bringing a cassette deck to several shows back in the day, and I'm not talking about a portable one, but an actual home stereo component. Turns out we'd been to many of the same shows in the mid to late 90's, funny how small the circle can be when you're talking about the most dedicated of the band's fans. We swapped stories and joked about their buddy Dennis, whom they'd lost at the show and who hadn't turned up at the train station with them...they played rock-paper-scissors to see who'd get the unenviable task of calling his wife to say he'd missed the train. High comedy at well past midnight.

I finally stumbled out of the Stamford train station around 1:15 and made my way to the business center parking garage. The guard on duty informed me of the exorbitant sum her parking garage would be bending me over for, and oh, they didn't take credit cards. Or payments from mortgaged property, apparently. One begrudging trip to the ATM later, I was back in my car and she was rolling up the garage door to let my newly-impoverished ass out. I slouched back home close to 4am, dragged myself out of bed by 8:30, and squinted my way through the rest of the day, realizing my great road trip had come to a close.

There are few better feelings than crawling back into your own bed after a long time out on the road, though having the bed be warm is one of them. And even though it was 3 in the morning, I was glad to be back, as was the wife. After sleepwalking through work on Thursday, I pulled the old-man routine and hit the hay at 9pm that night to catch up on some direly-needed sleep. Friday was thoroughly uneventful, and after a day full of running long-since-forgotten errands on Saturday, we pointed ourselves down 93 en route to the Roxy for show 5 in 8 days.

The Roxy is BT's newest stop in finding a decent venue to play in Boston - they're a little too big for the Paradise (plus they had their gear stolen there at a gig in '91, and thereafter didn't play it again until last summer's Pilsner-sponsored gig), and a little too small for the Avalon. Actually, other than the Pilsner gig, it had been a full four years since they played a show in Boston proper, so really, we were just glad to have them back. The Roxy, unfortunately, suffers from the same affliction the Avalon suffers from - eurotrashitis. That is, after 10pm, anyone who actually enjoys music is broomed out of the place to make room for the boom-tiss-boom-tiss crowd. So doors were at the odd hour of 6pm, show at 7ish. It was almost like early bird hour at Grassfield's; I half expected bluehairs wandering around the place asking for an extra Jell-O cup with their overcooked haddock fillets.

After a rousing set by no opener whatsoever (for the third show in a row - two "an evening with" and one "oops, our van broke down in Delaware"), BT took the stage shortly after 7. John opened by saying how great it was to be in Boston, then apologized for not playing Boston proper more recently. He said it was because he'd moved to Seattle and got caught up in the whole "alternative" scene, and hoped it hadn't changed their sound at all. So of course they open with what they call "Fucked Run" - an angry, grinding version of Run-Around, played in a minor key, that usually succeeds in confusing the hell out of the casual fans. The show itself was average, nothing special, though they did do a good bit of sandwiching - Gina>GBU>Gina and Brother John>Run-Around>Brother John (which was part of a five-song Four ending to the set, including Stand and The Mountains Win Again), followed by an old-school encore of Dropping Some NYC>Crash Burn>Dropping Some NYC.

One bizarre moment - some extremely sweaty, extremely overzealous guy came dancing out of the crowd during the end of Gina, and then went absolutely batshit fucking loco when they started playing Amber Awaits. I mean...who loses their shit over Amber Awaits? The dude pulled up his shirt and toweled himself off repeatedly, cleared about a 5-foot radius around himself for dancing, fist pumping, and general woohooing, then tookhis jacket, toweled himself off again, tossed it over the rail behind him
(on top of a friend's jacket...I think he went home and burned it), picked it up, then walked off when the song ended. Mrs. Dave was unfortunately a close-up party to this whole episode, and she just kept edging slowly away from him, a step at a time, fearing for her life, or at least fearing being splattered by this guy's copious sudatory production. As he walked off, he tapped her shoulder - I guess to apologize, but we'll never know - and she moved about as fast as I've ever seen her move. A wise decision.

And then it was back to the illegally-parked car, just in time (there was a meter maid making the rounds less than a block away) and we were back home by 10:30, even taking into account a stop at Espressospleasehold on the way home. A very odd feeling. Five down, one to go.

o/~ ...man my ass is swollen, rawhiiiide... o/~

(yes, that's right..what other blog brings you obscure "City Slickers" references?)

When last we left our intrepid hero, I was taming the savage beast upon his reentry to the greater DC area. And despite my pleasure with my success of the night previous, there were miles to go after I slept...so I couldn't sleep for long. I'd instructed Chris to wake me at the bright-n-early hour of 8:30 to ensure I got on the road by 9:30. Since he had to get up anyway to walk Jack, he was more than happy to oblige. And so up and at 'em I was by 9, out the door closer to 10, headed north. WAY north.

Google maps puts the trip from Alexandria to South Burlington at a whopping 546 miles. Now, 546 miles is a long trip any way you cut it. It's even longer when it's fucking RAINING the entire way, and longer still when you have a passenger-side wiper that is bleating like a tasered sheep every time it drags across the windshield. Got from Virginia, around DC, up into Maryland (got my first and only speeding ticket of the trip thanks to a speed trap just over the Tydings bridge, before the toll plaza), through Delaware, New Jersey, and then the long haul up the New York thruway.

The weather finally broke for a bit and I pick up a bit of time, but then realize that I need to, in three consecutive rest areas, fill up my tank (stop 1), stop to plug in my phone so I can call home (stop 2) and get some lunch (stop 3). Very poorly planned for a family that prides itself on stopping a MAXIMUM of once per trip. I am ashamed. I will make one note though - before you put your $1.75 (ehighway erobbery) into a vending machine clearly labeled as a Pepsi machine, make sure it actually sells...wait for it...wait for it...PEPSI. No, I ended up spending a buck seventy-five on a bottle of Dowser Spring water - the only thing this godforsaken machine sold.

Another interesting subplot to my dead cell phone - I was supposed to either stay at a hotel in Burlington with friends who had rented a room, or stay with a guy from the BT mailing list who had offered a place to stay. I'd emailed both of them but never heard back from either one before my trip started so I was starting to think I'd have to scrounge for a room...when that morning I got an email from one and a phone message from the other. So fully expecting to call them once I was in town, I set off armed with their phone numbers, and a cell phone that was apparently hemorrhaging battery power at an alarming rate, which promptly died within an hour. Oh, and I don't own a car charger. Gah.

Doors were at 6pm and it was becoming increasingly obvious that I was not going to make it in time. I ended up rolling into Burlington at 7pm, but the venue was maddeningly difficult to find. After several trips up and down US2 - this despite Mapquest informing me that the place was less than a quarter-mile from the exit - I finally stopped at a 7-11 whose clerk took pity on me. Turns out the place is almost impossible to see from the road (a four-lane highway in both directions, so you can't exactly poke along and inspect every tiny sign) - it's behind a Dunkin' Donuts and attached to a Chinese food place called the Silver Palace. Sounds like a total oddball place but it's actually a pretty nice venue - they just moved into the location less than a year ago, there's plenty of free parking, and there are actually two rooms in the place.

Still, I was a bit panicked about being late for the opener...except there was no opener. Word eventually filtered down that their van had melted down somewhere in Delaware - I may have just blown by them in my rush northward. Apparently they weren't due to go on until 8 anyway, so I would have been ok. Now, because they weren't coming at all, BT moved up their set time and played at 9 rather than 9:30 or 10, which gave me the crazy idea of just going home. Of course, my phone was still dead, so I couldn't call either of my housing benefactors, but I'd done the drive home from Burlington before, and I was surprisingly awake for someone who'd just driven 546 miles plus a few laps on Route 2. I figured I'd wait to see how I felt after the show.

Good decision, as the show was quite energizing, and I got to exchange pleasantries with the other two tapers who were there. One was running what I'm hoping to make my newest toy - the MicroTrack 24/96 - so we chatted about the contraption for a while, about the sound in the room (good, as it turned out, despite our position), and general regional taping. The show ended up selling out, and the guys played well off the crowd despite a bit of a low-energy vibe in the room. John continues to have fun on-stage, and they even pulled out a little Canadian Rose tease in honor of the Burlington shout-out in the lyrics. The best part of the evening was John stopping right around the 2-hour mark thanking the crowd for being fucking excellent - usually the sign that there's one more tune left before the encore break. Except there was a 6-minute NY Prophesie...followed by a 7 minute Slow Change...followed by an 11-minute Brother John. An excellent old-school way to really blow out the end of the set and make it a good solid 2.5-hour show.

After a quick post-show chat with the friends I was supposed to hit the hotel with - they managed to find me; not sure what happened to the other guy - it was back to the 7-11 for the largest Pepsi they had, and then into the car for the 3-hour drive home. So if you're counting at home...that's 12 hours in the car, 5 hours at the venue. Bitchin'.