I woke to water dripping on my face from the ceiling above, Disoriented, I thought at first that we were going down, we were sinking, somebody save me... "Fuck the art save yourself!!!" I thought. Sitting up I realized that I was not on a boat, but was in fact on a raft of sorts, a foam pad raft floating on an empty stage state of mind. A stage! I'm not going down. Ya it's alright... it's ok.... theres something to live for... Jesus Christ how did I get here? Dear god man what happened to me last night? The children, where are the lost children? The smell of left over hedonistic debauchery hung in the air like... like a 1000 humans had just smoked and drank, danced and screamed there lives away...
I will be your accident if you will be my ambulance- sang in my head "tv on the radio"
A vague memory from what seemed like days ago of some tin foil rapped cholcolate space cookie's that were the size of hockey pucks flashed in my head. "Dude there's like a half a pound in each one of these suckers." Said the man named Whore-Hey.
And then it hit me like a fuckload of omletes in a shit ton sack. I was Somewhere in Brooklyn, in a warehouse, last night was a Rebels party, no no that is not it, a Rubyland party, Rubalu, RubyBlu, Ruben with cheese party, Rubulad... right thats it, whatever the fuck Rubulad means- I think it's Hebrew for "throw down". .
I am sleeping in a warehouse, on the second floor, on a stage, that just 12 hours before was graced by a wacked out NY Klezmer band that of all things, I think did the best cover ever of "Dove's Cry", There was A human being who pretended that he was a jukebox/record player sound making machine guy like that black dude in police academy but better- he did this dope ass impersonations of dick cheney having sex, and then being Shot down while flying in an heli copter - that dude needs to be on Comedy Centrals get shorties, after that there was a white kid doing an Eminem esque rap about Dick Cheney, "will the real dick Cheney please stand up please stand up. There were humans Balancing humans and humans climbing out of other humans overalls and stuff and stuff and Stuff... SO much Stuff and I never ever ever ever even left the second floor...
In another room, in another space time continuum thingy A guy jumped up on stage and recited Allen gin-is-a-berg's "Howl". I was transported back to the days of the Beats, for just a moment I was taken right back to that time. Man- yOu dig
Pow- wow, bam
And Then All of a sudden some other kid -Jeremy Haines was his name- jumps up there and he did this fucked up Karaoke Super Star rock out, signing his own songs, with his back up beat master making beats dude behind him, this very nerdy looking dude with a mac and beat machine drum machine watchamacallit. What a fuckign riot that shit was.
Let me just go ahead and quote the whore right now- "That’s Hot"
So hot, It made me pee my pants, literally. But it was just a little bit, and my tighty whities caught most of it...and why am I telling you this...?
Back to the Party-
And then the unthinkable happened- The Band that is banned but not banned The Band that should never be allowed to play anywhere, but, in the middle of the desert at 4 in the morning. The band that some how got their shit together enough to get booked at a show in Brooklyn. The unthinkable happened, this banned band attempted to get on stage. I say attempted to, because it took an hour for them to set up- (the road crew could not make it apparently, and it was not a union paying gig) In the time it took for them to set up, one whole crowd left and was replaced by entire new one- The banned band cursed at the fools who left without ever hearing a tune- Fuck you they screamed. And little did they know, those unknowing fools, that they were going to be missing the best show of the night...
Some how I designated myself as sound man for this gig, because they didn't have one, and hey what else am I going to fucking do just sit there and watch them get Banned again, watch them sink into the hall of shame of Rubyland parties. Hell no. I was not going to do that. I could not do that- I am a man of principle I tell you.
I think I unraveled around a mile of cables and plugged and unplugged this one and that one the white one and the black one- till finally the sound board was sending and receiving all the right signals to the basic home stereo rig hiding underneath the stage- and out to the speakers, that were probably stolen from some other bands rehearsal space the night before, came the sound of a the band. I don't ask questions man. I just work with what I got. This is the famous Brooklyn Ghetto sound system I have heard so much about in <Plug> ghetto sound board magazine here.
Finally The bongos were bonging and the voice of Alabama Whore-Hey was coming through loud and clear- Joe Joe the Celtic Irish Cat took the lead mic like any great lead singers I have seen take the mic and told everyone to fuck off- And A to the Aaron's other A's mariachi bass boomed sounds like no Marriachi bass every made sounds, And me at the helm, ready to fine tuning every audible note hearable to man.
finally ladies and gentlemen...
Banned Reversal Took the stage at 4 in the morning...
So punk rock
I think that I can safely say that everyone on that floor became instant Banned Heads that night- Insert the steal your face of Brian Doherty
They fucking Owned it man, No seriously there shit was fucking good, really good. I mean of course it sounded really really good cause of my expert ear and fine tuning sound skills. But hey, they right the tunes man, there the fucking musical geniuses.
And the icing on the cake- you know what they encored with-
Joy to the Joy.
You know that song.
Joy to... the joy, the joy the joy, the joy the joy the joy the joy....
The joy the joy the joy the joy
And the joy joy joy joy
You know which one I am talking about.
And that just brought the fuckign house down...
How fucking sick is that
Let me just quote the whore again - "That’s Hot"
And the kicker is they didn't even have their second lead man with em-
"This Is Brian Doherty" never made it because he has was held up at customs in L.A. due to some questionable reading material or some shit like that -
Brilliant I tell you. I want in, even if I am just the rodei, fuck it I will take gruppy anyway I can I want in...
Little secret I will let you in on- I got their set list that they left behind- it's already on ebay. Dollar dollar bill yo....
I don't know how or why it is that it is always our group who winds up being the last one's standing at the parties- maybe it has something to do with being all hopped up on liquor, New York air, and space cakes. Whatever it is, I think that is what makes us the lost children of sparseland, farceland, twinki town, what ever ville.
The rest of the night was a blur, I remember arguing either for or against recycling with a Segway.
The hockey Puck made the rounds again.
Copious amounts of alcohol was put away
At some point there was a pass the mic session with the left over left overs last man/woman standing hosted by a red headed superstar
And then I finally left the 2nd floor and climbed up and out, to get a respective perspective, because of course what night in Brooklyn can end with out a respective perspective, adn a roof top piss/greet the sun rise/even if it is hidden behind clouds on Speed (Levitch) and Paper Boys dreams being delivered like yesterday news tomorrow.
Imagine if you will two tents on some roof in Brooklyn, violently blowing in the wind, one is held down with a mason brick, looking like it is going to blow off at any moment, the other, larger of the two, is held down by 2 people sitting in broken lawn chair, one of them is putting weed into a Tea tree Oil tooth pick container, slowly, and methodically, pausing here and there as he tells a story, the other is in his pajamas watching the weed be put into the tea tree toothpick holder. Flap flap flap the tent keeps flapping. Behind all of this is the NYC skyline, and the clouds on Speed,
I am think of the title "Kidnapping Speed" what a great title for something that would be...
But it is here, during these delirious mornings that more often than not, the epiphany strikes me. Here is where the Holy moment materializes right before me. It is in these moments that I recognize that I am exactly where I want to be, that I am doing exactly what I want to be doing, and for a brief moment of time I am cool with all there is to be cool with.
I try to explain this to who ever will listen.
Ya man Speed says...
Ya man Paper says...
I am a pilgrim of The Lost Children! The leftover gypsies, we are Edie Brickell's New Bohemians, though most of us do not know this... we are the new beats that still beat old beats that are still related to my fathers fathers fathers generation gap beats.
"I am still alive I scream out to the High way Roar." Fucking Pilgrims
Were are part of this, the modern day pilgrimage. Searching for... something that can never be found, but yet we can never stop searching... OR maybe I am just talking about myself again.
I know I was defiantly thinking to myself, I Heart NYC.
Normally when Gabi and I see someone wearing a "I heart NYC" shirt down here in Texas, it makes me want to go over and smack em', and take their shirt away, and say
"No you don't, you don't love New York."
The morning after the night before, walking away from it all, to a train, that would be the begging's of taking me home, away away from this concrete jungle rat race. Walking to the station with Speed and Gabi, talking about how were going to change the world one performance at a time. Feeling so aliave. looking at the clouds race by in the sky. I think to myself, I love this town. And if I had one of those shirts that Say I heart NY, I still wouldn't have worn it, but I would have thought, I do. I do love New York.
Here here I say, here here.
Oh ye' lost children how I love thee so.
Whytee Tie muda puckers.
I had a fuckign great time at the Party- Hat's off to the whole Rebels party, or was it Rubyland, Rubalu, RubyBlu, Rubulad right thats it. Whoever those fuckign kids are, hell of a party.
Thank You Aaron for being such a gracious host,