Dammit. I should have brought my camera.
*** Would just like to start this off on the right foot and not mention that I let my update on my CBGBs concert just wait around for close to a week after the event. Dammit...mentioned it anyway... ah, well... stupid, stupid***
Last Tuesday was the show that I was stressing about for about a month beforehand. I would like to sum it all up by saying that I'm glad I didn't just say "Fuck it" and stay home, because the thought had occurred to me quite a few times. The stress of it all, putting stress on The Boy, was just way too stressful for me to cope with and a few times before leaving for the show, I thought about calling it all off and going to bed.
But, I didn't. And I learned that the boy wouldn't have let me cancel anyway even though he really couldn't give a shit about seeing the show because the sweetheart that he is, was raised by his Jewish mother (oy, the guilt).
The show was scheduled to start at 10:30pm at the famous CBGBs in Manhattan's East Village. I was really exited about seeing a show there as they will be closing their doors in September some time and packing it up and moving to Las Vegas, taking all of their dirty furniture and fixtures with them. And man, is that place just packed with ancient dirt. Famous dirt. Like, dirt that Joey Ramone probably smeared there sometime in the 70's.
10:30, right. So, we left the house later than I originally intended, getting on the road around 8:30. We followed the directions I got from friend, S, but followed them incorrectly. I assumed that since she lives in Brooklyn, and travels to the village pretty regularly (by car, even) that she would have the most accurate directions: the shortest shortcut.
But she didn't take into consideration that maybe I'm a dumbass. And that we would get lost. Because we did. Get lost. In Brooklyn. Which, I won't lie, sucked pretty hard. There we were driving up and down Metropolitan Avenue for about 45 minutes looking for the fucking bridge that never showed itself. I swear we followed the signs, but then the signs went away and so did the bridge and we were lost again. Fucker.
We abandoned the Williamsburg Bridge and all the way back up the BQE we went to the tunnel, into the city and alllll the way downtown. We found it. It was already 10:30, but we found it. (The band wasn't going to go on on-time, anyway, so it didn't really matter). Then we drove past it to find a place to park...uh, about 15 blocks away. So we walked! Not a problem!
But then we got lost again.
NYC Lesson*: See, the southern part was the first area of Manhattan Island that was developed, um, by the Dutch, I'm pretty sure. They built their roads as they saw necessary and without all of that pesky city-planning stuff. The roads, they go all over. They turn into other roads and kind of run diagonally to the later, planned, city-block structure the rest of the city is based on. It makes the whole area really fucking confusing if you don't live there, or spend a lot of time there, or (HA!) have a map.
I have a preet-ty good sense of direction, normally. Obviously, the stars were mis-aligned or some such shit that night, because I got lost going straight. It was not entirely my fault, you see, the name of the road changed on me, twice, while we were walking.
I got confused.
But don't fear, we found the club. Again. We walked through those famous front doors and talked to the surly door dude who asked for a $5 cover (but see, I was smart and had already ordered 2,$15 tickets in advance. Why pay $10 when you can pay $30, I always say...). We got our little "I'm an adult" bracelets so that we could pound the bar and we were in.
The band was already playing and it was awesome. He was half-way done with a song from two albums ago. Lovely. Then they played two songs that I had never heard before (must have been from the new album that I've been too cheap (lazy) to go get) and then played a song from the first album that I've always thought would be so great live. And it was! So Great!
...and then they stopped playing.
"Thanks, everyone! Good night!"
Lights came up.
People start filing out of the long, narrow club, pushing us up against the bar at the side of the room. The Boy and I look at each other in shock and horror.
It's 11:30.
We've missed it.
I saw a song and a half that I knew.
They were gone. I didn't even have time to buy a beer. I can't believe they actually went on ON-TIME.
We waited until mostly everyone left, I composed myself and we walked around the mostly empty club and just looked around. The walls are covered in stickers, signs and posters. Nothing spectacular, but that little bit of history that I wanted to soak up before the whole place is gone. Its the kind of thing that makes me wish I was born just a few (ur, 20) years earlier to have been part of the original punk scene. Must have been fabulous. Um, and dirty. Very dirty.
We walked up the 15 blocks back to the parking garage with kind of a disappointed air around us. Disappointed and outright hysterical, though. It made me want to jump into another bar and actually DO something while we were there. But, of course, it was midnight on a Tuesday night and we were an hour, at least, away from home. We figured that we got off a lot easier than we had thought and would be able to get to bed by 1:30. We shouldn't push it.
Afterwards, The Boy: "You know, its really too bad we missed it. I think I could have liked them."
Oy.
*Nothing with actual facts cited. This information is being pulled directly out of my ass, though I'm pretty sure I'm right.
Last Tuesday was the show that I was stressing about for about a month beforehand. I would like to sum it all up by saying that I'm glad I didn't just say "Fuck it" and stay home, because the thought had occurred to me quite a few times. The stress of it all, putting stress on The Boy, was just way too stressful for me to cope with and a few times before leaving for the show, I thought about calling it all off and going to bed.
But, I didn't. And I learned that the boy wouldn't have let me cancel anyway even though he really couldn't give a shit about seeing the show because the sweetheart that he is, was raised by his Jewish mother (oy, the guilt).
The show was scheduled to start at 10:30pm at the famous CBGBs in Manhattan's East Village. I was really exited about seeing a show there as they will be closing their doors in September some time and packing it up and moving to Las Vegas, taking all of their dirty furniture and fixtures with them. And man, is that place just packed with ancient dirt. Famous dirt. Like, dirt that Joey Ramone probably smeared there sometime in the 70's.
10:30, right. So, we left the house later than I originally intended, getting on the road around 8:30. We followed the directions I got from friend, S, but followed them incorrectly. I assumed that since she lives in Brooklyn, and travels to the village pretty regularly (by car, even) that she would have the most accurate directions: the shortest shortcut.
But she didn't take into consideration that maybe I'm a dumbass. And that we would get lost. Because we did. Get lost. In Brooklyn. Which, I won't lie, sucked pretty hard. There we were driving up and down Metropolitan Avenue for about 45 minutes looking for the fucking bridge that never showed itself. I swear we followed the signs, but then the signs went away and so did the bridge and we were lost again. Fucker.
We abandoned the Williamsburg Bridge and all the way back up the BQE we went to the tunnel, into the city and alllll the way downtown. We found it. It was already 10:30, but we found it. (The band wasn't going to go on on-time, anyway, so it didn't really matter). Then we drove past it to find a place to park...uh, about 15 blocks away. So we walked! Not a problem!
But then we got lost again.
NYC Lesson*: See, the southern part was the first area of Manhattan Island that was developed, um, by the Dutch, I'm pretty sure. They built their roads as they saw necessary and without all of that pesky city-planning stuff. The roads, they go all over. They turn into other roads and kind of run diagonally to the later, planned, city-block structure the rest of the city is based on. It makes the whole area really fucking confusing if you don't live there, or spend a lot of time there, or (HA!) have a map.
I have a preet-ty good sense of direction, normally. Obviously, the stars were mis-aligned or some such shit that night, because I got lost going straight. It was not entirely my fault, you see, the name of the road changed on me, twice, while we were walking.
I got confused.
But don't fear, we found the club. Again. We walked through those famous front doors and talked to the surly door dude who asked for a $5 cover (but see, I was smart and had already ordered 2,$15 tickets in advance. Why pay $10 when you can pay $30, I always say...). We got our little "I'm an adult" bracelets so that we could pound the bar and we were in.
The band was already playing and it was awesome. He was half-way done with a song from two albums ago. Lovely. Then they played two songs that I had never heard before (must have been from the new album that I've been too cheap (lazy) to go get) and then played a song from the first album that I've always thought would be so great live. And it was! So Great!
...and then they stopped playing.
"Thanks, everyone! Good night!"
Lights came up.
People start filing out of the long, narrow club, pushing us up against the bar at the side of the room. The Boy and I look at each other in shock and horror.
It's 11:30.
We've missed it.
I saw a song and a half that I knew.
They were gone. I didn't even have time to buy a beer. I can't believe they actually went on ON-TIME.
We waited until mostly everyone left, I composed myself and we walked around the mostly empty club and just looked around. The walls are covered in stickers, signs and posters. Nothing spectacular, but that little bit of history that I wanted to soak up before the whole place is gone. Its the kind of thing that makes me wish I was born just a few (ur, 20) years earlier to have been part of the original punk scene. Must have been fabulous. Um, and dirty. Very dirty.
We walked up the 15 blocks back to the parking garage with kind of a disappointed air around us. Disappointed and outright hysterical, though. It made me want to jump into another bar and actually DO something while we were there. But, of course, it was midnight on a Tuesday night and we were an hour, at least, away from home. We figured that we got off a lot easier than we had thought and would be able to get to bed by 1:30. We shouldn't push it.
Afterwards, The Boy: "You know, its really too bad we missed it. I think I could have liked them."
Oy.
*Nothing with actual facts cited. This information is being pulled directly out of my ass, though I'm pretty sure I'm right.
posted by claire at
2:54 PM
6 Comments:
Since when do bands ever start on time?? And a punk band at that! Isn't it against the rules of punk to do what people expect you to do? Or is the fact that they were expected to go on late what made them go on on time? Hmmm...
By
Jess, at 8/28/2006 5:27 PM
completely fucked up. its murphys' law in action, i tell you.
and punk was grossly dirty, what with all the bleeding and sweating and spitting and whatnot, and the big clompy boots. thats why grunge came along...it bathed more often.
By
FirstNations, at 8/28/2006 10:05 PM
Jessica - Well, Vast isn't typically a punk band (though they were playing at a punk venue) so i guess they've got that excuse. Though your theory would probably hold water if they were a punk band. Going on on time is a very punk thing to do...um, cause you don't expect it. Yeah.
First Nations - ah, grossly dirty. those were the day, eh? when you didn't have to shower for weeks and you weren't cool unless you slept in the sewer. maybe i'm not so much cut out for that afterall.
By
claire, at 8/29/2006 7:25 AM
that sucks... try to put a glass half full spin on it... at least you get to say you saw them play 2 1/2 songs at CBGBs.
By
minijonb, at 8/29/2006 11:00 AM
Sorry you missed them honey. I found out that when a band is playing a smaller venue, such as CBGB or Webster Hall, they have no option BUT to hit the stage on time.
If I were you, would have dragged The Boy bar hopping.
By
Orelinde_03, at 8/31/2006 9:22 AM
Sorry you missed it. CBGB's is not what it once was, as indicated by the on-time schedule. I barely recognize that neighbourhood anymore, to tell the truth, what with all the yuppies swarming all over. No wonder it's closing down.
Not that I'm into dirty. I like my music mostly body-fluid-free, thank you.
BTW, a lot of lower Manhattan streets were actually laid out along trading routes originally established by the Indians (and thus dictated by streams, hills, etc.), which is another reason they're cattywomped compared to the 1811 grid system (although I'm pretty sure Broadway was based on an old trail, too). If you think that neighbourhood is confusing, try the West Village, where one can live on the corner of 4th St. & 12th St, as I did, or the Financial District, where nothing makes any sense. Makes Chinatown look easy.
By
Da Nator, at 8/31/2006 11:27 AM
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