Kitty Power

Drive By Dub

| 1 Comment

Good weekend all around. Except for the boat concert, I didn’t especially do much of anything — besides clean my house and entertain. Ever notice all I talk about is cleaning? Well, if you lived on auto-pilot like we do for most of the week, you notice on the weekends that you have to force a path out of the clutter.
Dear friend P. Diddy came down from New Haven to spend time with me and we had fun catching up. I dragged him to Soda like I take everyone (any excuse to go there is really A-OK with me) and we spotted the one person in the neighborhood I’ve got semi-ill will towards. Still a good time with cider/beer and the famous cheeseburger before meeting Faiks for a night of barhopping and shisha to cap off the night. We caught the 4 train pulling in the station and made it from Bleecker to Grand Army in 20 mins! That’s really unheard of.
Like a good friend who knows me well, he met up with someone else for brunch and let me sleep. Circa 1pm though, I was up and got Ant up to for the bake sale. I got this sickeningly good apricot pound cake and he got the orange scone. We kicked it with the neighbors, including the hilarious Cupcake. In the “NYC must really only have about 300 people sometimes” files, she knows some people I know (vaguely) from Wes that are longtime friend A’s other friends. She passed on a sighting of him singing “You Sexy Thing” at karaoke, which is so improbable that it made my brain hurt. I emailed him all “WTF?” and his reply subject line was: “Now I know how David Cross and Owen Wilson feel.” My boy’s making the blog gossip rounds! From there, brunch and hanging out again with P. Diddy and G before resting up for the boat show.
I trotted out to West Bumblefuck, Manhattan, a.k.a. the waterfront on the West Side, to meet up with The Director. The security line for the boat ride was a little excessive (patdowns, bag searches). The boat itself was decked out in a cross between a booze cruise and a junior prom. It seemed like floors of an NYU dorm had sponsored a trip or something because the kids were out in full force. The bars were committing highway (seaway?) robbery by charging $8 for well drinks. We just chilled and caught up. I like it when the conversations can be easy and actually an exchange. When I’m unsure, I tend to hold back and when I’m nervous, I babble, so it’s comforting when I can talk to someone I like normally as I would anyone else I know. He’s screening his last short, just finished writing a new one, and maybe about to work on another movie. I just find it interesting when talking to someone that’s focused on what they do. Because I don’t know what the fuck I could say that my direction/passion is now. Am I involved in music? A writer? In marketing/advertising? An event planner? Your guess is as good as mine. I’m a dabbler with too many unfinished things around me. I need a career coach.
The Director joked later that it was a no lyrics night. Lineup was Dub Trio, Nisennenmondai, Tyondai Braxton solo, and Prefuse 73 with DJ Nobody and that mystery (well, to me) drummer guy who was also on the last tour. I saw other Battles members walking around, as well as a chick with a Battles bag, and I wanted to run over and ask where I could get the damned “I Have Battles In My Life” bag I was so obsessed with at the other show. But, I didn’t. I’m coldly serious about my new “Oh…helllll no” stance on tall assholes who like to prop themselves in front of shorties like me. At least 2 guys got the poke in the back and the nasty look at the show. And you know they moved. My screw face is not to be fucked with. Seriously, what’s up with that? You can stand anywhere you want and see. Why do you have be muscling in right smack in front of somebody as if your view is obstructed. It’s hard enough to be short and craning at weird angles to catch glimpses as is. I kept being distracted by two girls at the show who decided that the middle of the crowd was the perfect spot for their pseudo-performance art interpretive dancing. You know what? Cut that shit out. Enough of us just ignored them, so they just slinked away after a while. Sorry, attention whores! Get your own damned show because no one paid $30 to see you!
The royal we likes Dub Trio more and more each time we see them. I’d say they singlehandedly jumpstarted the current dub obsession, but in actuality, it’s been gradual after spending a good portion of the year at The DJ’s party. It wasn’t until I saw them a few months back that I became totally obsessed though. Their general sound reminds me of my sentimental faves of Alex and the boys and dammit, they just seem cool. They’re understated yet brilliant. Next up with Nisennenmondai, a noise trio. It took them forever to set up considering the set was like 10 minutes and I got really annoyed (for them) that they’re setup was further impeded by guys a-fluttering around “helping.” They’re musicians! They can set up their own shit! The drummer was a monster. She was totally possessed beating the crap out of her kit. It was funny when they stopped because I was thinking they were just introducing another song. Nope finished.
In the intermission, we stood outside on the deck to watch the Statue of Liberty pass. The boat went so close and all of us standing out there were really awed. I haven’t been that close since my trip there in 1989 or thereabouts and then all of sudden, there she was, way bigger than life. We strolled back in midway through the Tyondai set. And I can say it’s pretty much everything I’ve ever heard about it: dude on the floor with his pedals and such. Sorta interesting, sorta not. The main event was Prefuse, DJ Nobody, and mysterious henchman/drummer dude. I was amused watching Scott Herren run around sticks in hand looking generally annoyed with the sound people until whatever was up was fixed. I had an obsessive’s version of an existential crisis wondering why I felt like I was hearing the same song twice. Oh, it was a different song! But “Perverted Undertone” and “One Word Extinguisher” sound the same to me live. I squealed to The Director hearing “Suite For The Way Things Change”: “that was totally my fave song forever!” Yeah, dude, forever! I found myself momentarily annoyed by this one dude who had to park himself right in the front of the crowd. Quick and easy way to tell music hack, erm, critic at a concert: they’re the asshole blocking up your way and determined to be stone-faced and statue-like no matter how much fun everyone around them is having. This prick finally gave in two songs from the end, but he was just being a pest before then.
We docked before the last song was over and had a good 20 more minutes of music before it was all over. The two of us were bound to this 9th Avenue bar near Port Authority that looked like a hardcore sports bar, but was filled with the most random cross-section of drunkards I’ve probably ever seen. $3 well drinks on a Sunday night…hell fucking yes. My head wasn’t too happy about it the next morning, but hey, what can you do? As strange as it sounds, The Director is someone I have too much fun with. We’ve known each other going on a year and a half and it’s very comfortable. It’s in some strange space between friends and not-so-platonic, but generally freeze-framed. I dunno. Weird how those things go. It was so great to connect that I was seriously wavering on the new boy for days, clutching at straws to stop my growing interest in its tracks. I’m a sick puppy, man. Which explains why it’s been almost 3 years since I’ve been in a unit. I really dunno where my head is half the time. I’m resolving to pretty much wait and see on all fronts.

One Comment

  1. Thanks for the shout-out. As promised, your check for $5.00 is in the mail. Oh shit. I keep forgettting I’m broke. Well, I’ll make it up to you. If I ever get invited to tea at bbrug’s, I’ll stuff my pockets with poundcake and share the spoils.

Leave a Reply

Required fields are marked *.