Despite living my whole life in New Jersey, I've only had the displeasure of going to the Starland Ballroom twice. In the venue's defense, they have great sight lines. However, my enjoyment of the venue ends with the sight lines.
Sayreville is a remote area of Central Jersey. The Starland Ballroom, located in scenic Sayreville, is down a dark road with only an American Legion Hall across the street to make you believe civilization did not end once you turned down Jernee Mill Road. So, given this monopoly on space, you immediately get the joy of paying $7 to park your car in the middle of nowhere New Jersey, though at least, you can pay the same money to park at the American Legion and feel a little better about where your money is going.
But, I was bored and decided to break a 20 year pledge to never see The Misfits without Glenn Danzig. The Misfits, are in theory, a band that shouldn't work. Cross what I would characterize as surf punk, mixed with horror overtones from a period when horror was camp, they should be a terrible and unmemorable band. But Danzig overcomes that with his voice, inflection and presence. Without Danzig, the Misfits quickly descend into farce, as the vocals sound off and basically Jerry Only, Jerry Only's son and a drummer is marginally more than a Misfits cover band, without a lead singer to understand the pacing or sound that makes the Misfits work. Suffice to say, the show was a bust, as even the classics of the Misfits sound pale when sped up and the lyrics feel glossed over, no matter how much stage show they put together.
The opening acts were no better, with a mix of so-so punk rock and the She-Demons, who set out to prove how far five, attractive, multi-ethnic women in punk rock costumes can go. Seriously, the band is exactly what you would expect to see in a Robert Rodriguez movie, there was the blond guitarist, the raven-haired bassist in a hat and leather vest, the Hispanic lead singer, the Irish drummer who kept lifting her left arm above her head before striking the drums and the Asian guitarist. While all very attractive, they were certainly deficient in the sound generating department, almost like a real-life Josie and the Pussycats.
So, if the actual concert wasn't bad enough, I did enjoy a fine confrontation with a neo-Nazi skinhead. Oh, the years since that last happened. So, before the Misfits set, I purchased a Coke from the bar, a common choice if you need to drive a car home. So, I turn around from the bar, also common if you plan to do anything other than watch the bar. Before I even take my first step, someone walks into me with some steam, spilling about ten ounces of Coke onto me.
The question became, is proper bar etiquette to apologize that you spilled someone's drink and offer to purchase them a new one, or is it to relentlessly call them a faggot and threaten them with physical violence. Before last night, I was certain it was option one, which I would have politely declined, because things happened in a tight area. However, my new friend, believed number two was appropriate. He steamed into me, while I was standing still and told me to, "Watch where I was going?" Now, standing still, covered in Coke, I replied that he should watch where he is going.
My new friend, a small neo-Nazi skinhead, standing 5'4", maybe 120 pounds with glasses, felt his hard man status was threatened by being wrong and not owning the place. As we all know, with a neo-Nazi skinhead never exists, since inside their uniforms they are all soft and afraid of any sort of altercation, which would shatter their unique worldview, the only place where they are ubermensch.
So, he turns around and calls me a faggot and who didn't watch where I was going. I was standing still, which I pointed out to him. Well, incensed, he upped his faggot calling game and let me know I didn't want to have a confrontation with him, though admittedly, only he thought he was dangerous to anyone's safety. I, on the other hand, was content to walk away and wonder, was he going to strike me and whether New Jersey's hate crime laws covered situations where someone attacks you believing you are a member of a protected group, but not. I was not excited about developing new case law, but genuinely felt safe knowing that the possibility of two years in prison for a such a small, young neo-Nazi would be very hard on him.
Of course, while I was being harassed, was there any security, of course not. The four security personnel inside the club were one up on each side stage and two in front of the stage with no one in the back. Needless to say, I cannot recommend anyone go to the Starland Ballroom for any event, since I can only associate the venue with the potential for hate crimes in an unsafe environment. Good job!
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
A Most Odious Affair
Don't you love leaving work after a needlessly long day, only to be confronted by celebrity culture and human feces.
Walking past Elaine's at 10 PM is an awful experience, as desperate people wait in line to be served diner food by never weres and not quotes. But we all have our failings, though I certainly thumb my nose at theirs.
Even Worse than the usual gaggle of people were the limos parked just outside. Everyone waited with great anticipation as to who would emerge. Would they be famous, would they be able to steal a loathesome selfie they squeezed into with the uncaring famous person to pretend for a scant moment their lives were better and full of meaning? God, I hope not.
Moving past this sad statement on modern life, I head through the second block to the subway station and aside from nearly being thrown down a flight of concrete stairs from the embrace of sad lovers, I arrive at the station to wait three minutes for the train.
It was here, I found where a human being took a shit. The feces was I mistakenly human, say three to four inches long with solid compact and girth. To be fair, the mahogany colored log was fairly impressive, especially for someone with a diet restricted by income. But just near the, ever present, puddle of urine was the glistening, fresh dump, waiting to disgust all passersby. And despite the fact I just walked past fresh, human excrement disposed in an unsanitary way, I was less disgusted than I was by the desperate lookieloos I walked past to find the steaming dump to send me off on my voyage him.
Walking past Elaine's at 10 PM is an awful experience, as desperate people wait in line to be served diner food by never weres and not quotes. But we all have our failings, though I certainly thumb my nose at theirs.
Even Worse than the usual gaggle of people were the limos parked just outside. Everyone waited with great anticipation as to who would emerge. Would they be famous, would they be able to steal a loathesome selfie they squeezed into with the uncaring famous person to pretend for a scant moment their lives were better and full of meaning? God, I hope not.
Moving past this sad statement on modern life, I head through the second block to the subway station and aside from nearly being thrown down a flight of concrete stairs from the embrace of sad lovers, I arrive at the station to wait three minutes for the train.
It was here, I found where a human being took a shit. The feces was I mistakenly human, say three to four inches long with solid compact and girth. To be fair, the mahogany colored log was fairly impressive, especially for someone with a diet restricted by income. But just near the, ever present, puddle of urine was the glistening, fresh dump, waiting to disgust all passersby. And despite the fact I just walked past fresh, human excrement disposed in an unsanitary way, I was less disgusted than I was by the desperate lookieloos I walked past to find the steaming dump to send me off on my voyage him.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
The Aquabats at Gramercy Theatre or Defying Expectations at a Ska Show
If you've ever been to a ska show, you know there are really two times you need to know, the time on the ticket and the time you should actually consider showing up. The time on the ticket is usually illustrative of when the doors will open, but really is not the time you want to arrive. The North Arlington high school band might be a find marching band, but eight of them getting together to form a ska band wasn't my idea of a good time 20 years ago, and is less so today. Even worse, the Vernon high school band will have the same idea and follow them. You can tell their friends, because they are the only people at the show who've heard any of these songs before, aside from what is usually a poor choice for a cover, picking a Specials or Operation Ivy song, which they manage to mangle.
So, having experienced this enough times, you learn to take a measured eye to when you want to show up. So, the Aquabats were playing an early show this evening at the Gramercy Theatre, with doors at 6 PM. So, there was one announced opening band, which often means two or more bands, just no one important enough to mention. And most shows in New York fail to start on time or even an approximation of on time. So, I decided to get there for 8 PM, figuring music starts at 7, gives enough time for one or two bands, but likely gets me there to watch the Aquabats.
I arrive promptly at 7:58 PM, executing my timetable perfectly, where I was given a cursory bag check by one of the four men guarding the door who don't care, followed by a look, but not a scan of my ticket. This boded ill in my book, because I've never failed to at least get a scan and an opportunity for a wristband, should I want to purchase a high-priced adult beverage. Walking in the door, I'm greeted by the Aquabats on stage...stating it is nearly time to go home. In a first for a NYC ska show, the Aquabats went on around 7:15 PM, with no notice from either the Gramercy Theatre or Aquabats social media. Generally, bands have wizened up and post the time they are going, so people don't miss the show they might have paid $30 to see. I actually paid $30 to see approximately 1/3 of the Aquabats show.
As an aside, this is the third time I've seen the Aquabats live. In the 1990s, I saw the Aquabats as part of the Warped Tour, good, not great. In the 2000s, I saw the Aquabats, with the Aggrolites opening for them at BB King's in New York. To this day, the show remains the only time I purchased a ticket outside the venue, since I desperately wanted to see the Aggrolites at this sold out show. The Aggorlites were phenomenal and the Aquabats were very good. Tonight fulfilled my need to see the Aquabats in the 2010s.
Not only did I miss 2/3 of the show, I was greeted by six plus minutes of uninspired stage banter. Six minutes is a long time to talk on stage between songs, which also included specific instructions for men, women, and appropriate hugging during the song. Fortunately, I avoided all hugging.
The best part of the show was the background videos. The Aquabats put a lot of care into the video clips they splice together and loop for each song. During Captain Hampton and the Midget Pirates, they played clips from Treasure Island, that were well chosen and actually quite funny separated from the rest of the film.
Unfortunately, musically, the show did not hold up. I barely caught Super Rad, which is one of their better songs and it came across a bit weak, without full singing and some incomplete horn work, even given there was only a saxophone player. The other songs were perfectly acceptable, but not worth the time I spent to get to New York to see the Aquabats. They closed with Pool Party, which required bringing every small child on stage, except for the two children who walked in with their father at 8:30 PM as the hard out was about to be enforced.
Sadly, this is only the second worst show experience of 2015, as there is a Toasters show at the Brighton Bar, one of the finest concert venues in New Jersey, that lives in infamy.
So, having experienced this enough times, you learn to take a measured eye to when you want to show up. So, the Aquabats were playing an early show this evening at the Gramercy Theatre, with doors at 6 PM. So, there was one announced opening band, which often means two or more bands, just no one important enough to mention. And most shows in New York fail to start on time or even an approximation of on time. So, I decided to get there for 8 PM, figuring music starts at 7, gives enough time for one or two bands, but likely gets me there to watch the Aquabats.
I arrive promptly at 7:58 PM, executing my timetable perfectly, where I was given a cursory bag check by one of the four men guarding the door who don't care, followed by a look, but not a scan of my ticket. This boded ill in my book, because I've never failed to at least get a scan and an opportunity for a wristband, should I want to purchase a high-priced adult beverage. Walking in the door, I'm greeted by the Aquabats on stage...stating it is nearly time to go home. In a first for a NYC ska show, the Aquabats went on around 7:15 PM, with no notice from either the Gramercy Theatre or Aquabats social media. Generally, bands have wizened up and post the time they are going, so people don't miss the show they might have paid $30 to see. I actually paid $30 to see approximately 1/3 of the Aquabats show.
As an aside, this is the third time I've seen the Aquabats live. In the 1990s, I saw the Aquabats as part of the Warped Tour, good, not great. In the 2000s, I saw the Aquabats, with the Aggrolites opening for them at BB King's in New York. To this day, the show remains the only time I purchased a ticket outside the venue, since I desperately wanted to see the Aggrolites at this sold out show. The Aggorlites were phenomenal and the Aquabats were very good. Tonight fulfilled my need to see the Aquabats in the 2010s.
Not only did I miss 2/3 of the show, I was greeted by six plus minutes of uninspired stage banter. Six minutes is a long time to talk on stage between songs, which also included specific instructions for men, women, and appropriate hugging during the song. Fortunately, I avoided all hugging.
The best part of the show was the background videos. The Aquabats put a lot of care into the video clips they splice together and loop for each song. During Captain Hampton and the Midget Pirates, they played clips from Treasure Island, that were well chosen and actually quite funny separated from the rest of the film.
Unfortunately, musically, the show did not hold up. I barely caught Super Rad, which is one of their better songs and it came across a bit weak, without full singing and some incomplete horn work, even given there was only a saxophone player. The other songs were perfectly acceptable, but not worth the time I spent to get to New York to see the Aquabats. They closed with Pool Party, which required bringing every small child on stage, except for the two children who walked in with their father at 8:30 PM as the hard out was about to be enforced.
Sadly, this is only the second worst show experience of 2015, as there is a Toasters show at the Brighton Bar, one of the finest concert venues in New Jersey, that lives in infamy.
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