Music:crown me king- the worlygog pistols of the hegemon.
Last evening we went into Manhattan in a great iron train, as the sun sank below the waters of the Hudson. We were due to attend a masquerade ball, faces all putty & latex. Andrew's new band, Almost Violet, played first. The lead singer is a weird case; she only sings flat, &/or goes down in tone, never up. The dudes accompanying her on guitars look appropriate. Andrew swung his drumsticks like he was brachiating through the great jungles of rock & roll. After them, a band named 14 lines played, which Carla & Andrew seemed to think were horrifyingly bad, but which I (& Jenny) thought were okay. They look like they met at a swingers convention, or a neo-pagan faire, or something equivilent, but the front girl, while only a middling singer, is an interesting vocalist when she shouts. & the drummer! At first I thought he might be blind, or who knows what else, because he made his weird "concentrating" face the whole time! As though he had never seen people be embarassed by the stupid faces they make when, for instance, trying to slam dunk. So he was all dead eyed & tongue protruding, & that was interesting to watch as well. Also, the lead guitar was hillariously built for shredding. After them were The Cummies, which really surprised everyone. Pay no attention to any pompous comparison to protopunk or any bullshit like that (those things that almost by definition have ceased to mean anything). What they really sounded like were a couple of guys really high on drugs who had payed attention to the musical lessons taught by one Frank Black & one Kurt Kobain. Singing with that jump-up kind of lilt & screaming with that "I've trapped by hand in an ant hive by grabbing the gem & won't let go" angst. & by high on drugs, I mean that I saw the guitarists lip move, & his fingers, but other than that, dude was on the nod. The lead singer was kind of ugly, but there was a semicircle of rock & roll girls doing their little gyrating dances, waiting in promise. Oh fame & charisma, its great when you help ugly guys in bands get mad pussy. I salute you. The whole evening was also made more fun by me getting the "band" stamp for $2 drinks. Thats how I roll, like tanks over the ruins of Babylon, baby.