Puttin' On The Ritz

More sophisticated by the second, etc.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

310.9 Degrees Kelvin, etc.

August 3, 2005 – Glasshouse, Brooklyn
It was, how do you say, much like a sauna in there. The sweatiest show of my career, maybe. Actually, I cannot remember the entirety of my career right now, but it was certainly up there. We played with Wives, Chinese Stars, Bird Names and Scalpels (Japanther was supposed to play but back out a few days beforehand, and Cheeseburger elected not to play for reasons mostly unknown, possibly because it was too hot and they were too drunk, I’m not really sure). I would like to think that we were in top form, but I was drunk and sweating profusely (I think I might have lost a pound or two), so I might have been hallucinating. Lately Kevin has really been enjoying throwing one or both of his sticks high in the air and then occasionally catching them. By occasionally I mean not very often. By not very often I mean not at all. The vast majority of the people there left the room just as we were about to play, perhaps it was the heat or the fact that they were maybe vaguely aware of the fact that we were playing. It could have been for any number of reasons, I suppose. I am not a mindreader, despite my protestations to the contrary. The temperature of the room dropped a few degrees when they left, so it might have been for the best anyway. I’m not sure that people really felt like they were in Rio when I attempted to tell them all about the Girl from Ipanema, but I did my best to make them believe that they really were in the southern hemisphere. For some unknown reason Kevin started playing the drumbeat to Sunday Bloody Sunday, which is all good and fine but the only words I know to that song are those. So I crooned “Sunday, Bloody Sunday” a few times and then threw in a “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” for good measure because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I borrowed Chinese Stars’ drums for a few minutes so Kevin and I could solo together, although I’m not sure that it counts as a solo if two people are doing it. Semantics, I know. Regardless, I believe that we played quite well and received a hug or two after the set to that effect. Thank you, my friends. Come to think of it, I would like to thank Stephanie Wakefield for holding my glasses during the set, I’ve broken too many pairs already and it is hard to find a spot that is safe from Kevin Shea, what with the drumsticks and the humans and the microphones flying around, etc. Let’s fall in love!

Confidential to Broke in Brooklyn: Dude.


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