Pound Sign

New York City, pop culture, art and nightlife. Because nobody else is blogging about those things.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Definitive proof that not only does your Ipod in fact read your mind, but sometimes it likes to fuck with you.

Last Saturday afternoon I was running out to Coney Island for the opening of an exhibition at the Coney Island Museum, curated by a friend of mine, Meridith McNeal (who incidentally is a terrific artist in her own right). As the N train pulled into King's Highway, the conductor announced everybody off-a train ahead had broken down and they were stranding us here on the windswept platform until they could clear the tracks. I was already very late, so this was very unwelcome news.

And then, just as the train pulled away, Dolly Parton's bluegrass tune "Train, Train" started up in my ears. Mockingly, Dolly gaily sang about the train taking her to Memphis as the N disappeared around the bend. Then, as I settled in for the long wait, my little white friend proceeded with a long, unbroken run of echoing pedalsteel murder ballads and strings-drenched songs of hopeless lost love. After 25 minutes or so I wanted the next N to arrive just so I could throw myself in front of it.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

They're taking the awning down right now.

Sometimes you have to make yourself go out on a cold Wednesday night, when you had a long day at the day job that you're getting the sneaking suspicion is kind of awful and you kind of wish someone had mentioned to you before you took it that it's kind of awful. I didn't want to go. I was tired. Last week, I went to shows 7 days out of 8, and it was a blast but it was kind of exhausting. Last Wednesday was the third What's My Line? and it was great! But it was a long week. But, Clams was debuting a new number at Jo Boob's show at the Slipper Room last night so I had to go support! And it's those nights, when the place is half empty, where so often you're really happy you made the effort. The World Famous BOB was the emcee, and I got to hear her story about a few nights ago when she did a benefit gala for P.S.1 and the Mayor was there, and she closed the show with her famous finale number set to the theme from 2001 (which yes I know is actually called Thus Spoke Therathustra, or something like that), which of course ends with her in nothing but glitter and a sly grin, legs akimbo. And then she did a great impression of Bloomberg's slack-jawed reaction (although to his credit, he was clearly there all the way to the end of that show, because our Mayor likes to party even though he makes you smoke outside and wants the bars to close at 2.) Also, I got to hear a fey goth version of Devil Went Down to Georgia by a singer from LA, and some women took their clothes off, and yeah ok, it was worth the effort.

I love BOB, and if you missed her one-woman show F To F at Mo Pitkin's this summer, don't miss any opportunity to see it in the future. She has lived a life, and she's an absolutely charismatic, charming and funny storyteller who has the most natural stage-presence (not hindered of course by being the most statuesque broad to ever wear a perfectly arched pair of eyebrows and not much else). And she's completely genuine; it's infectious, no one else would ever get me do the robot in public (come to her monthly show at Galapagos and you'll see what I mean), and last night she got the cynical lot of us to share an actual, sincere moment of silence for CBGB's.

Speaking of CBGB's, can I confess? I never went to a show there. Clams did a show at their next-door annex the CB's 313 Gallery, so I'm very fond of telling people she played CBGB's. But I never experienced the place in its true grimy splendor. We talked about it a lot, but when it came down to it I never really wanted to go take a chance on a no-name thrash band and a bunch of drunk kids so I could experience the famously disgusting men's room. As it's final closing neared, I had a moment of clarity that, more then I had any interest in going to a show there, I wanted to live in a New York where CBGB's still existed. And now I don't. And that sucks.

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Friday, October 13, 2006

YouTube worth 1.65 billion for making dreams come true

Yes, you too can sit in front of the laptop until 2 AM, the night before an important morning meeting with your Executive Director, watching entire episodes of Remote Control, complete with commercials circa 1989. Or find the opening credits of the Great Space Coaster, or Kidd Video, or Airwolf.

And then you wonder, how many VHS tapes full of TV shows did I throw out when I went to college?

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Just another typical Tuesday night...

...eating dinner at 1:00 in the morning, reeking of karo syrup and covered in glitter.

Jo Boobs asked Clams to be part of the opening acts at a private event to celebrate the closing of Joe Coleman's painting exhibition at the Jack Tilton Gallery. The event was at Union Pool in Williamsburg, packed into their backyard saloon-style stage venue; the burlesque performers were opening for an exclusive gig by Hank Williams III! At the very last minute, Jo asked me to stage manage for the burlesque portion of the evening, so I spent the show wiping up Velocity Chyalld's stage blood and picking up the pieces of Bambi the Mermaid's lobster costume, and watching all the acts from behind, which was just fine. Spent the rest of the night watching Hank's psychobilly mayhem in the smallest venue he's probably played in 10 years, hanging out with awesome people, drinking too much...really, I highly recommend this as the perfect antidote to a crappy Tuesday at the day job.

So now, back to the desk. The third What's My Line? is two weeks from today! We set the bar high with our second show, it was a big hit with the audience, and we had great sponsors and a fantastic mystery guest: Martha Plimpton! So, working hard to make our third show live up to the hype...while I should be, you know, working on the stuff I get paid to do. The realities of producing on your own time: you do a lot of it on your boss's time. I'm going to be copying flyers on the office copier at lunch.