I can't believe the things you say (second edition)

OR vague-ish recollections of the freakin' weekend feat. the siren festival* & bad ketchup on suspect fries

dear friends,

in the spirit of candor, I experienced two of the worst hangovers of my young life last weekend. perhaps it is best that I have an indigenous constitution. if I could handle the firewater like a viking or contributor tina, I would be way too social. I'd have an entourage made up of equally wasted but fashionable loud ass freaks & we'd go from rock show to rock show making spectacles of ourselves. alas, I am lazy & don't even like to go out during the work week much less keep up with the stylin' therefore it's better that I'm lame. that's what I keep telling meself, anyhow.

1. went to red hook, brooklyn's rock venue the hook (HUGE!) to see some friends perform at a party for the deli magazine & wound up catching a band that was so fabulous, contributor bryan had to issue me a free drink ticket for dancing. I was doing the mashed potato & wuz fierce! like a tiger! RAAAR!

but yes, the band, mistakes! was fantastic! fantastic! aaah! anyone that puts so much effort to appear as punk rock as their singer, ugly**, who was clearly sartorially channeling combat rock era joe strummer, but then turns around & daintily plays the xylophone hunched over like zorak is my kind of frontman. alternately spastic & graceful, this guy was a goose stepping, spitting, tambourine show-offin', lady in the audience dry humping***, bug-eyed NUT. the best part of all was that freak could SING, so the frontman up to 11 charisma was merely the cherry on the whole concoction.

the rest of the band was aces. the infectious punk meets ska meets new wave never sounded like a lame throwback. influences were worn on sleeves sure BUT those boys weren't afraid to adorn that sound with unusual elements (a falsetto counterpoint backing vocal, a prog rock keyboard line) to make the sum of those influences completely theirs. the rest of mistakes! were just as committed to making the crowd go b-a-n-a-n-a-s as their vocalist & as a jaded concertgoer, I appreciate that. I will definitely go see them again & again.

I purchased their full length at the show & I found it to be nowhere near their mad, whirling live sound. I recognized a few numbers but it was like before & after pictures of people who've had reconstructive surgery or if that fails to make sense to you; muted & removed. no matter. they will rock you live so go catch them at their next show & perhaps their next album will be worthy of their boss live performance. yes. I am using the slang word boss.

special shout out to the dude from madame robot wearing a mauve/maroon dress shirt & jaunty american flag 'kerchief round his neck. he got the look. & according to friends who caught the tail end of their set, they've got an awesome sound as well...I'll investigate & report back.

2. we were late to coney island's festivities on saturday 'cause the house elves had stolen my sunglasses. bright unrelenting sun! people in ludicrous outfits! beckoning fried smells coming from life-threatening food! looks like siren, smells like siren, must be siren!

I caught half of the dears', which I've ranted about in these posts, set. I l-l-loved them but it was a bit bizarre to hear their swirling, dramatic apocalyptic tales of love lost in the daylight. anywho, because I am classy, I would like to offer a hearty congratulations to murray lightburn & natalia yanchak for gettin' bus-AY. yanchak looked cool as a cuke & she was singing & tickling the ivories all whilst beatifically pregnant. & lest we forget, she was doing all this in the broiling armpit of city summer festival. amazing. just for that, she should receive an award for rock excellence.

for kicks go see the sad, sad story of a heartbroken teddy bear in their video for their ultra doom-romantique duet, 22: the death of romance on myspace.

caught some of morningwood, the latest signed from nyc folks. I felt for their lead singer chantal claret. poor girl's hair had frizzed to mushroom cloud proportions & she was trying to work something out with the crowd but there was a lot of crossed arms resistance. judging from their set, I thought that the drawing point with them is definitely her voice but that voice is ill served by tunes like the lackluster, karaoke-style cover of knock on wood & the screech sing posturing in the ranty verses of jetsetter. I think claret's real vocal sound is this deeper, bluesy thing too sweet to be a growl but almost that & it got out occasionally like a leopard paw through a cage. but not enough. what was up there did not represent what I think she is capable of. regardless, I'll give the upcoming album a whirl & get back to you.

met up with some friends, ate some nasty food, the monkey took me where I really wanted to go...the ferris wheel! (jumping up & down with an idiot look of delight) I loves me a ferris wheel! especially the wonder wheel at coney! up at the very top I shouted "all this could be ours!" & gestured grandly at the beach & stadiums. I wish I could say I laughed maniacally after that but all I did was smile at my boy in the sky.

back to show... we managed to catch dungen, the swede proggers with a penchant for flute & dynamics with an exclamation mark. I rather liked them. they were earnest & feeling it! (I guess with flutes you kind of have to be) but I got the distinct sense that I would like their music better in another setting. a cold one. with incense. & a tapestry on the wall that has unicorns hidden in its patterns. ya feel me?

I will get their album. as soon as it stops being an import & rock snob talisman (from the conversations I overheard, you'd think it was indie garlic & holy water combined into a smoothie). so yeah...that may take a while.

we left. sad innit? I wanted to see spoon & brendan benson but jiminy christmas, when will siren festival organizers figure out that the better venue with the better sound is the second stage!?! wider! with escape routes! please! I'd like to be able to feel like I'm not gonna get crushed by sweaty band t-shirt wearing yoots with aggression to burn.

man, I'm so unrock. that's how I know glastonbury isn't it my stars. le sigh.

we sat sun-dumb on a boardwalk bench & watched the fog roll in & overtake the amusements. then we dawdled back to the d train. we'll be back next year.

love, d

* I've been looking at other blog recaps of siren festival I've noticed lots of ranting about the proliferation of brooklyn hipsters. I've...eh seen some of those ranters out & about & well, they ARE brooklyn hipsters. (brain explodes) SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!

I'd like to assure the non-contributin' readership that I am very uncool & can't dress. also, I have never, ever worn cowboy boots in an ironic way in 90 degree weather.

conversely, I think that we need hipsters. I have a theory that ties them to the ecology & my alternating feelings of self-loathing & superiority. I'll go into it at some point. just not now.

** alas, ugly was not really ugly. it would've been kinda faboo if he looked liked that dude in the goonies, you know, the one with the egg shaped head...& then rocked that hard. oh well.

*** he knew the lady in question so don't be scared. stand right up at the front, just don't get spat on.

band to go see live: mistakes