03.18.06
Slacktacular!

Last Friday and Saturday I again shook my fist at impending adulthood by going to CBGB's to see the Slackers, who abruptly declared it to be the official record release party for their new album. Which, as I keep yelling to everyone within earshot, has the best cover art ever:

The album is good, although about half the tracks are cribbed off of 2004's International War Criminal EP, and frankly, the EP versions rock harder. The best new track is "Set The Girl Free", another paean to underage dating, this time given a truly breathtaking Phil Spector-style production.

Both nights at CB's were good. The band was good. Friday night the crowd stank, because it seemed to be full of the cast of an 80's Saturday Night Live skit on "Preppies". I blame NYU. The definitive moment came when some guy decided to crowd surf, and when he jumped off the stage, the crowd majestically parted like the Red Sea, landing him flat on his back on the concrete. I laughed. Hard.

Saturday night the crowd was smoking a lot more dope, which made for a better experience all around. They announced that they were playing a song that they hadn't played live for three years and launched into "Wanted Dead or Alive", which made me count backwards and realize that 3 years ago to the day I had seen them in Rochester. I started to think that that meant they didn't play Rochester nearly often enough, then I realized I didn't care, since I don't live there anymore. So, in conclusion, they still rock really hard, despite becoming progressively whiter over the last 5 years.

I shall now rate the other aspects of the concert-going experience on what has become the standard "suck/rule" scale:

CBGB's: Like attending a concert inside a well-used chicken coop. I didn't use the bathroom while I was there, but I assume it is also awesomely terrifying.

$7 Red Stripes, $3 water: One way to cut down on my drinking.

Rudies: Guys, you have to send your suits to the cleaners after every show. Nobody wants to talk to you if you show up smelling like old BO and reefer.

Finally meeting Amy: Rule! I am terribly impressed that she recognized me.

Agent Jay running on stage and yelling "Fuck New Jersey!" after the final encore: Also rule. He almost started a riot.

Guy in NYU sweatshirt chatting up blonde in dreadlocks by talking about Jimmy Cliff: Made me want to kill myself within 5 minutes of my arrival.

Guy in third row trying to cordon off part of the dance floor so no one would jostle his whiny girlfriened: Do I even have to comment on this?

Above girl's friend getting elbowed in the face, spending the rest of the night weeping because her glasses got bent: Actually, all of the above made me seriously reconsider leaving the house. Thankfully, they were all there on Friday.

Guys grabbing my ass on West 3rd street at 3am: "Parada. Tengo un novio y l es enorme."