Oh, the Tyranny of Distance

Every summer, there are a number of concert series throughout the city of New York. River-to-River is a good one that features all free shows (I think). I remember seeing Rahzel & The New Deal perform together at one of their shows a few years back. Last Thursday, I hopped on the train and headed down to Battery Park to catch Ted Leo & the Pharmacists, described in The New Yorker as "heroes of the underground." I should have known, though, that the underground splits into numerous subterranean caves. While some of the inhabitants seem familliar, much of what's out there does seem foreign and uninviting.

Thursday, I found myself knee-deep in just such an underground body of water. A veritable sea of twenty and thirty somethings, reeking of for-the-sake-of-irony irony and malicious, self-serving condescention. Please don't stop reading, though, before you understand that I'm not trying to rag on the awesome Ted Leo & the Pharmacists. They were brilliant.


And the show was great. They played a terrific set, mixing old standards with all-new material. According to whitestrpsrock (since I'm horrible with Ted Leo+Rx song titles):

Heart Problems / New Song / Me and Mia / Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone? / New Song / Hearts of Oak / The One Who Got Us Out / Counting Down the Hours / Little Dawn / New - "There Goes My Brain" / New - "Gimme the Rock" / Annunciation Day/Born on Christmas Day / Bomb. Repeat. Bomb. / New Song / Bottle of Buckie / The Unwanted Things / Who Do You Love? / The World is in the Turlet / New - "Last Days" // Timorous Me / Hybrid Moments (Misfits cover) / Fisherman's Blues (The Waterboys cover)

While the stage was a little low, killing the view for anyone farther back than the third row, I did get a couple shots (of tiny Ted).


But back to the subject at hand, what pissed me off were the folks. I've never been more creeped out by a sub-section of society. Not by the punks, not by the goths, not by the preps.... Here's an exchange I overheard at the show:

Guy: Someone left a message on my myspace saying I should come to California and bring the whole band along. I checked her profile and our band is listed as her NUMBER ONE FRIEND!

Girl1: OMG.

Girl2: What a loooser!

Guy: I know!

All: condescending hipster laughter

Fuck a pack of ungrateful hipster musicians. Long live Ted Leo & the Pharmacists.

For That Much Needed Warm, Fuzzy Feeling

The Things You'd Do to Make a Buck...

This could easily turn out to be one of the greatest movies I'll ever watch.



Los Angeles is scattered with the hopefuls who bus their ways in from Kansas, Ohio, Kentucky... where California is a dream. People like me were born privileged. The Hollywood Hills, the beaches, the city, everything... I never had to struggle to reach out and grab it. And like the asshole we all are, I can easily say that I took it all for granted.

But say you came here and had nothing, no place to live, nothing to eat, no one to know... how severe would your survival tactics be? Los Angeles is a misnomer in a lot of ways. This city is full of dirty motherfuckers who are just waiting for the right moment to exploit the shit out of you. But everyone knows that before they get here. Hard to believe I love this city, but maybe it's just the Stockholm Sydrome where LA is my abductor and I am her sex slave.

A Garden Party Evening
Found Gallery
1903 Hyperion Avenue
Tonight, 7-10pm

The gallery is going to be buzzing with cast members, critics, fans, and weird random people like me. With art and photography by Tim Youd, the producer of the film, and Irene Kai, a reknowned Asian-American author, it's really hard to say no to crashing a party deep in West Hollywood.

Tram and I are hitting the scene. Our hopes are to get onto the News.