Regulator kicked ass, combined talents from Bad Brains and Cro-Mags raged at Bowery Electric

9/26/14 12:32

Driving into the city last night was easy.  I didn’t rely on the Waze or the GPS.  I have driven in a few times to the Bowery Electric.  I felt confident in my sense of direction.   It’s perhaps one of my strongest traits.  Leaving New Hyde Park around 9 meant less traffic.  I drank a couple of beers at a farewell party – some salad and pint of water and I was off.  I was a man on a mission.  Onto the cross island and onto the LIE and then the BQE and follow the signs to Manhattan.  The sparking city was resplendent from the passing rain.  I found a parking spot, paralleled parked the Charger and walked a couple of blocks to the Bowery.  Turned left.  Pass some restaurants and a 7-11 and there it was.  Walked in, checked in at the ticket table.  Showed ID and headed downstairs.  Passed legendary Bad Brain’s guitarist, Dr. No, but was too shy to say anything.  

The place was packed.  SubZero was on the stage.  They played the last two songs of their set.  The lights went on and a flood of bodies escaped into the night.  It was the time to climb into the heat.  I went in, stepped down into the pit and took a spot in the back next to the sound board.  I was safe.  I was back against a wall.  

I was there to see Regulator which as members of Bad Brains and Cro-Mags.  Dr. No was warming up and high fived Mackie, the drummer of the Cro-Mags as he sat down behind the drums.  A content Daryl Jenifer, bassist for the Bad Brains, eventually was on the stage and warmed up as reggae music thumped through robust speakers.  It was a few minutes of sound check. The collected and anticipating bodies waited like patient monks till John Joseph, the singer for the Cro-Mags took the mic and asked, “How’s everyone doing?” Ready to rip. 

The super group piled on the bricks of the Bad Brain’s classics.  Sailin’ on, Don’t Need It, The Regulator, essentially all of the songs off The Bad Brain’s seminal self-titled album, but skipped over the soothing (take a break from aggression) reggae selections.  They played House of Suffering off the album I against I and they nailed it.  

Why skip the reggae?  My thoughts: the reggae songs were the influences from their singer (HR and his younger brother Earl Hudson) It was another reminder this was not the Bad Brains on the stage.  Not that it mattered to the crunching horde slam dancing, jumping, legs over heads, shoving the heavy and solid music board back.  The energy in the room raged.  

John Joseph carried the tunes very well, but the strong vibrato, the classic pristine falsetto of HR’s voice was missing last night.  But considering where HR is now and what he has been up to recently – performing solo shows to some harsh criticism, even his voice can’t match its peaked past.  

Regulator may be flirting with our nostalgic heart strings.  Is there a possibility they will continue as a band?  I was surprised how short the set was - as well as no encore. There were so many songs left to play and there was the expectation they'd play for an hour plus. I'd say they played for about 45 minutes. 

Before closing, John Joseph thanked Jesse Malin for hosting the event.  He explained why we were there – it was a benefit concert for Children’s Tumor Foundation.   Even on his FaceBook page he stressed even if you cannot make the event, you can make a donation to the foundation and suggested buying a T-Shirt on the way out.  All of the money is donated to the foundation.   I will share a link within this post.  Enjoy the pictures.

Thank you for reading this.

Children's Tumor Foundation

With Jody Stephens and Nels Cline a forgettable band plays a rare gig

7/18/14 15:30

I have no regrets about last night.  Well, maybe I saw a band that was forgettable.  But, I got the chance to hang with Mike Sweeney who was my long time concert partner.  I spoke to the one and only Jody Stephens from Big Star at the gig.  He was playing drums for the forgettable band.  My eyes may have deceived me, but I thought I spotted Lee Ranaldo in the sparse crowd at Bowery Electric last night.  Lee plays with the one of the musicians from the forgettable band.  But they play together in Lee’s band.  I hope to see that band.  Saw Sonic Youth many years ago at Jones Beach.  Last night, we were all there, all fifty plus strangers; to see the tired band "End of Love," who were making what was promoted as a “rare” New York appearance.  You bastards, you sold me.  Honestly, I wanted to hear Jody and Nels play, but after I noticed Lee, I hoped he would pick up a guitar.  It’s a small stage.  No room for another player.  End of Love consists of Jay Deegan, Jennifer Groves, Irvin Menken and Jody Stephens.  Special guest was the accomplished and idolized guitar god Nels Cline who plays with WILCO.  Before I write on.  Excuse the brief interruption since I saw Jesse Malin last night after the forgettable band played.  Jesse was a friend of a friend (15 years ago) and he is a rock star.  Back then he was sort of a rock star, finding his way after D Generation.  Even Jesse sighed when he watched Nels pack his things in the trunk of a taxi, and head out of the Bowery.  It was late by then.  Jesse said he was still sober and the night was early for the rock star.  He clasped his hands, bowed slightly and blessed us before we departed the blue neon residue station.  Back to the gig which is the reason we were there.  Earlier in the night, I checked with the door and was told the forgettable band was getting on the stage at 10:30.  They must have been on minutes early, meaning Mike and I missed the first three songs.  We walked in as they were playing Big Star’s September Gurls.  Let’s remind ourselves this was the forgettable band’s first gig and so far by the indications of their web site – the only gig for this band.  Just as well?  Just a suggestion?  If you practice together - you will play better as a whole band instead of this piece meal collaboration.  Look at the set list, there are instructions for the musician who obviously did not know the songs. Jennifer’s voice was lacking. her bar band stage presence was embarrassing.   She barely moved and her voice was reaching too many times.  There was the small contingent of fans or were they family? She cupped her hands over her eyes a few times and waved.  I have not seen that behavior since the open mic show in Patchogue.  Same goes for the other one in that band, Jay Deegan. When someone called out from the back, he called back the little circle of giggling intoxicated pals.  The same pals who did not, “shut da fuck up” while the band played their boring songs.  I could not hear Irwin’s banal comments before most the dire songs.  It seemed like a tactic to avoid the next song.  Before they were over, I moved down to the floor to the dozen or so who stood there.  There were the video goons and the camera addict who did not stop snapping.  But before we sweep it up and toss it in the can, the band came out to the encore, kicked it out with another Big Star copy, In the Street.  Thank you for the last breath of empowering impact. The music ended.  The minimal audience slowly merged out into the night.  Under the half moon, their bodies and hearts went far off to their own distractions - under summer ceilings, and leaving behind the conventional conditions of the city.

Thank you for reading this.

Enjoy the pictures

Next review BB King in Patchogue, 7/20

Why The Clash were the best fucking band in the world

I wrote a few blogs on REM. Little is mentioned on this blog regarding perhaps my all time favorite band, The Clash. Back in 1978 Tom Snyder had them on, they played sold out shows at Bonds, and the NYFD shut down some of their concerts due to overcrowding. I remember wondering who was this band who made the news in NY, the fans seems like outcasts and radicals. It was as if a riot was erupting since they could not get into the show. On Snyder’s stage were temporarily fiberglass walls. A graffiti artist used them for his work and I remember feeling this is my favorite band. They played Radio Clash. Paul Simenon on bass was a bad ass as he slapped his low strung beast. A family friend went to Asbury Park to see them and said he met Joe on the boardwalk. My walls were plastered with their pictures. I bought everything I could and they made their record cheap for the kids to afford their music. Who does this anymore? The first and only time I saw The Clash live was back in 1982 when they opened up for The Who at Shea Stadium. The weekend before they were on Saturday Night Live, and played Straight to Hell and I recall Should I Stay or Should I Go. The Who concerts were supposed the signify the passing of the baton from The Who, veterans of arena rock to The Clash, the radical punks who were making a commercialized name for themselves on the AM radio with Rock the Kasbah. I came back home from a Boy Scout trip from the Delaware River and told the truck full of good God fearing lads who they were. At Shea heard they played Train in Vain, London Calling and more. I was packed with others in the outfield. Strummer wore glasses and the band sounded loose, not really what I expected. MTV later played a live version of Should I Stay or Should I go, but that was recorded from the previous night. Someone corrected me at school when I went around declaring I was in the audience. Being a Clash fan was a radical declaration that I was a punk. I was a rebel with a fuck you attitude. I did not want to conform. The only option to Regannomics was anarchy. John Wayne was dead and so is America was a statement I would write in my social studies class. Anger can be power don’t you know that you can use it. Was a line from their song Clampdown off London Calling, my English teacher read the back of my test where I wrote the line and read it out loud to the class; I was not sure if I was in trouble or he appreciated the blunt statement. If I recall he was going through a divorce at the time, and maybe the sentiment triggered a deeper hatred. I spray painted buildings in the VA in Northport with The Clash sign, the same large font which was used off their first album. There were different versions of their record, the import with a black background and the domestic olive green. Mick and Joe and Paul stood in a stairwell and looked blankly into the future. I was given London Calling for my 16th birthday a couple of years after it came out. Uncle Bob Runyan my 11th grade social studies teacher brought an article he found in Mother Jones’s on them and was impressed with their support of the Sandinista movement. In fact we worked on having a spokesman from the movement come to our school. Soon I became consumed with every Clash record. The band ended with a fizzle. It’s a shame Joe kicked out Mick Jones and they released, This is London which I am sure I have still in the wrapper. They toured the US but the life was sucked out of them. This is London is a shitty song and when they played a local venue Hofstra University, I refused to see them since this was not the band. I still go back to the songs from time to time. Meeting Joe Strummer was lifelong dreams come true. In fact I met him twice. Years after I saw The Clash and saw him perform at The Palladium for his – I will give it three stars - Earthquake Weather album. He only played a few shows in the US and for years went sort of underground. When I learned he was playing in town I was invited to a pre-show event. Strummer was playing Irving Plaza. My sister’s boyfriend Dennis worked at KRock and he was known in town as being Joey Ramone’s favorite DJ on the radio. Dennis said he had passes for the VIP and invited me to have dinner with Joey and Tim from Rancid and some other friends. I think Jesse Malin was there. I sat next to Joey and didn’t have a dime to get anything to eat nor did I add my input to the conversations. There was little I could say except when it became obvious this outsider was sitting at their table, he looked at me, asked casually, “And who are you?” I explained who I was and who brought me; he nodded and shook his head. He was a gentleman. Tim was quiet, sitting across from us, barely audible above the clamor in the place. From what Dennis explained Strummer was on his label, Black Cat records, Tim was a millionaire. Not bad for a tattooed punk from California, I think they were from California, I remember one of their songs I saw on MTV. One of them spat into the camera, but they appeared too professional. California has a way to make sweat appear glossy. I’m getting away from the first time I met Strummer. Up in the VIP section at Irving Plaza, Matt Dillon was there, Jim Jarmuch the director, Joe was in some of his movies. There were other artists and actors. Strummer did a shout out to Joey Ramone, and he also yelled out to the house manager shut off the air conditioning. Soon the place was sweltering. “I got something for you,” he said dripping in sweat and belted out the open power chords to London Calling and the place flew into a riot. Heads rose up and rejoiced, falling back into the crowd, their arms flung and twisted, hundreds of bodies were sporadically lurching to get closer to the man. He also played something he rarely played Rock the Kasbah as a shout out to Topper Headon. After the show we walked through the village with Matt Dillon who had three girls on him over to Jesse’s bar. We had the downstairs VIP to ourselves. Matt was standoffish, a dick for the most part, had a stuck up Hollywood attitude. Maybe it was my drunken state? Then Strummer came down and Dennis came over to me and said, “I got’s someone who wants to meet you.” He brought me over to Strummer and we shook hands and another DJ took our picture together, Joe leaned his sweaty head into mine and I wish I had that picture. Joe signed my concert ticket and we were off to cause drunken destruction in Queens. The second time I met Strummer, his last release received critical acclaim and he seemed to back in the game. The show was at the St. Anne’s Warehouse in Brooklyn. He played six shows and was his last in New York. Rudy Can’t Fail was sung and the crowd sang along with him. He looked somewhat overweight, his black shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. The concert was incredible and he played a good chunk of his new material. I thought the night was over, but we walked down to a bar from the club to have a nightcap. Strummer walked in with a cheer. He wore a light blue jacket and I approached him asking if he would sign my poster. He was a nut job for the most part, pretended to speak to someone who had their back turned to him, just to throw me off. It didn’t stop me. “Can you please sign my poster?” He did and we shook hands. As always I have a question, “What was it like playing with The Pogues?” “They’re all a bunch of drunks.” Later I corned him in the basement of the bar, a drunken Asian woman begged him to sign her breasts but he wouldn’t. I nudged her off and had one more request, this was the one song I never heard and wanted to hear, even just a few lines. My sister was with me and I leaned in. “Joe can you sing me a couple of lines from Broadway?” He said, “No Michael….Nope…No…” I thought I lost. Then he leaned over and sung into my ear. “It ain’t my fault it’s six o’clock in the morning.” We drove home (Green Lights…drive) and I had a fixed smile on my face and felt nothing could compare to that…