After many shows across many years at more venues than I can probably remember, I have finally come to grips with the worst venue for shows is The Chance Theater in Poughkeepsie.
Living in Central Jersey, The Chance is quite the hike for me, but I once drove to Providence, RI to see The Slackers just because, so that isn't really an issue. However, Poughkeepsie, unbeknownst to me at the time, is one of the worst cities I've had the pleasure of going to, reminiscent of a slightly better Newark. When the upside for a location is ample parking, you have a real problem.
The one time I managed to go to The Chance was to see The Pilfers. The show was nearly cancelled and two of the four bands didn't show up, because the pre-sales were so poor. But The Pilfers and The Hub City Stompers were there and Coolie Ranx sold me a Pilfers shirt, while we talked about the Chawaleng record release show. However, the venue was cavernous and as the other bands knew, the turnout was quite poor. Now, The Pilfers were rarely playing anywhere at that point in time and couldn't make a dent in sales, so I should have realized, Poughkeepsie is not a ska or punk town.
So, when I saw The Adicts were touring the US, there were two local shows, one in New York City on Thursday about 5 minutes from where I work and one at The Chance tonight. A true no-brainer in my book, I should just go see them at Stage 48, which would be easy and local and no-muss, no-fuss. The problem was that Rancid was also in New York the same day and announced their show first, leaving me with Rancid tickets on Thursday and Friday and an opening on Saturday night.
Part of me, the rational part of me, thought perhaps I could sell my ticket to see Rancid on Thursday night and see the Adicts, who I never saw before. But vigorous me, felt I could go to four shows in four days and should just go see The Adicts in Poughkeepsie, with some version of Sham 69 playing in Long Branch tomorrow. So, I purchased my ticket, despite thinking, how would the Adicts sell enough tickets to justify playing there...in fact, that is exactly why I bought my ticket as soon as I found out, to do my part in justify their arrival.
Of course, rational me was correct as the Adicts cancelled about 30 minutes ago, making The Chance 0 for 2 on delivering the show as promised. I was very excited to see The Adicts, a band I've never seen before and one known for putting on a great show, but alas, because Rancid tickets went on sale first, which was a great show in its own right, and my greed to wedge four shows into four days, there is a strong chance I will never get to see The Adicts live, because I believed The Chance could deliver on a show.
In the good news department, TicketWeb was really standup about the entire endeavor, providing both notification and processing my refund in the time it took me to write about this, so good for them. I appreciate when a small company does things right...especially since they ticket about half the shows I go to.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Splitting the Ticket
Sadly, this post has nothing to do with politics, a great love of mine, but rather the costs associated with live entertainment.
This year, I've attended 16 shows, which is 14 more than I went to last year and there are still two months, three Slackers shows and a Damned show to go. Now, generally, I purchase tickets in advance. The reason being, it serves to encourage me to go to events and on occasion, such as the Slackers boat show or Slackers secret show, gives me access to sold out events.
When I went to purchase tickets to the Damned from Ticketmaster, it was going to cost just north of $100 to purchase two tickets from them for the Stone Pony. Having business in Asbury Park a month ago, I purchased them directly from the Stone Pony, total cost, $55 for two tickets. It was like getting a ticket for free by going to the box office. Since it was Ticketmaster, I assumed it was an isolated event, since we are all used to overpaying on Ticketmaster fees.
However, today, I purchased a ticket to Skanksgiving at the Starland Ballroom. I'm quite excited to see the Slackers for the 20th time, Westbound Train for the first time and the Pietasters for the sixth time. Even though I live close to Sayreville, I've never been to the Starland Ballroom and sadly, just haven't found the time and motivation to drive to Sayreville to get a ticket ahead of time, since unlike Asbury Park, there is no reason anyone would want to go Sayreville for the day.
So, I broke down and bought a ticket today.
The ticket itself was $15.95, which represents less than half the associated costs with going to the event. On the other side, there is $1.05 for tax, an unavoidable reality. A $7.50 charge to use AXS.com, which feels more expensive than Ticketmaster, probably because it is just under 50% of the total ticket price. But since I wanted a ticket, I needed to pay an additional $5.00 for a ticket to be mailed to me, which was actually cheaper than Will Call, which was $6.00. Six dollars to write a name on a piece of paper. That's law firm or consulting pricing, not real world pricing. (Admittedly, in consulting pricing that would be a good deal.) So, we are at $13.55 in fees on the ticket. Which if there was reliable public transportation to the area (there isn't, since my train station is closest to the event, which they recommend a cab from), would be the end of it.
Instead, there is now parking, which is either $7.00 to use their lot or if I was mentally challenged, $18.69 for Star Parking, which gives me a slightly closer parking spot and the ability to be first in line. It's a six band ska show. I have night terrors about sitting through six bands at my age. Four, with Mephiskapheles, might be a bridge too far in terms of time. But I don't need to be first for that.
So, adding in parking, we are up to $20.55 in fees versus $15.95 in actual ticket price, which seems sadly absurd and likely has a strong, long term impact on live events, when more of the consumer's money goes to other fees, rather than artists. Someday, when I'm very old, instead of regular old, I will complain more about how economy shifts money around to at best, create jobs, but more likely, unjustly enriches people who provide no value, aside from taking advantage of their monopolistic position, but in the interim, I'll go to the show and realize I paid $36.00 for a $15.95 ticket.
This year, I've attended 16 shows, which is 14 more than I went to last year and there are still two months, three Slackers shows and a Damned show to go. Now, generally, I purchase tickets in advance. The reason being, it serves to encourage me to go to events and on occasion, such as the Slackers boat show or Slackers secret show, gives me access to sold out events.
When I went to purchase tickets to the Damned from Ticketmaster, it was going to cost just north of $100 to purchase two tickets from them for the Stone Pony. Having business in Asbury Park a month ago, I purchased them directly from the Stone Pony, total cost, $55 for two tickets. It was like getting a ticket for free by going to the box office. Since it was Ticketmaster, I assumed it was an isolated event, since we are all used to overpaying on Ticketmaster fees.
However, today, I purchased a ticket to Skanksgiving at the Starland Ballroom. I'm quite excited to see the Slackers for the 20th time, Westbound Train for the first time and the Pietasters for the sixth time. Even though I live close to Sayreville, I've never been to the Starland Ballroom and sadly, just haven't found the time and motivation to drive to Sayreville to get a ticket ahead of time, since unlike Asbury Park, there is no reason anyone would want to go Sayreville for the day.
So, I broke down and bought a ticket today.
The ticket itself was $15.95, which represents less than half the associated costs with going to the event. On the other side, there is $1.05 for tax, an unavoidable reality. A $7.50 charge to use AXS.com, which feels more expensive than Ticketmaster, probably because it is just under 50% of the total ticket price. But since I wanted a ticket, I needed to pay an additional $5.00 for a ticket to be mailed to me, which was actually cheaper than Will Call, which was $6.00. Six dollars to write a name on a piece of paper. That's law firm or consulting pricing, not real world pricing. (Admittedly, in consulting pricing that would be a good deal.) So, we are at $13.55 in fees on the ticket. Which if there was reliable public transportation to the area (there isn't, since my train station is closest to the event, which they recommend a cab from), would be the end of it.
Instead, there is now parking, which is either $7.00 to use their lot or if I was mentally challenged, $18.69 for Star Parking, which gives me a slightly closer parking spot and the ability to be first in line. It's a six band ska show. I have night terrors about sitting through six bands at my age. Four, with Mephiskapheles, might be a bridge too far in terms of time. But I don't need to be first for that.
So, adding in parking, we are up to $20.55 in fees versus $15.95 in actual ticket price, which seems sadly absurd and likely has a strong, long term impact on live events, when more of the consumer's money goes to other fees, rather than artists. Someday, when I'm very old, instead of regular old, I will complain more about how economy shifts money around to at best, create jobs, but more likely, unjustly enriches people who provide no value, aside from taking advantage of their monopolistic position, but in the interim, I'll go to the show and realize I paid $36.00 for a $15.95 ticket.
Monday, October 13, 2014
A Parade Marches Between a Man and His Sandwich
I hate holidays. More importantly, I hate holidays where I am at work, while other people are enjoying themselves or keeping me from important business, while I am stuck at work. Today was one of those holidays.
While some people like the celebration of the subjugation of indigenous people, other people want to be able to cross 5th Avenue to get a sandwich. Having some time in my day for a decent lunch, I decided to make the trek across town to DiSuso's Sandwich Society. I greatly wanted one of their fine Italian sandwiches and started the walk. Passing 6th Avenue, I see there are barricades, but walking around in New York, you come to expect barricades randomly placed. Sometimes, there is an obvious reason, sometimes, there is just a barricade across the road.
One somewhat empty block passes, when I see it, a parade. A Columbus Day parade. The New York City Columbus Day parade. Deciding that panic is over rated, I begin the walk downtown. Going one block, I see what I think will be an opening. There are people looking to join into the parade, which might mean one block to salvation and sandwiches. Crossing in front of the parade people I get to the next barricade.
At the barricade, I see it, floats, floats and groups of Italian men dancing and parading around in feathered hats as far as the eye can see. In a false irony, an Italian American parade is preventing me from having an Italian American sandwich for lunch. Crestfallen, I need to work my way back across town and eat something vaguely resembling a quesadilla from Cinnamon Snail, distraught that I would not be eating a fine Italian sandwich.
While some people like the celebration of the subjugation of indigenous people, other people want to be able to cross 5th Avenue to get a sandwich. Having some time in my day for a decent lunch, I decided to make the trek across town to DiSuso's Sandwich Society. I greatly wanted one of their fine Italian sandwiches and started the walk. Passing 6th Avenue, I see there are barricades, but walking around in New York, you come to expect barricades randomly placed. Sometimes, there is an obvious reason, sometimes, there is just a barricade across the road.
One somewhat empty block passes, when I see it, a parade. A Columbus Day parade. The New York City Columbus Day parade. Deciding that panic is over rated, I begin the walk downtown. Going one block, I see what I think will be an opening. There are people looking to join into the parade, which might mean one block to salvation and sandwiches. Crossing in front of the parade people I get to the next barricade.
At the barricade, I see it, floats, floats and groups of Italian men dancing and parading around in feathered hats as far as the eye can see. In a false irony, an Italian American parade is preventing me from having an Italian American sandwich for lunch. Crestfallen, I need to work my way back across town and eat something vaguely resembling a quesadilla from Cinnamon Snail, distraught that I would not be eating a fine Italian sandwich.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Fixing My Record Player
The downside of starting a record collection is maintaining a record player. In four months, I'm actually on my second record player. I originally purchased a Crosley Cruiser my first day as a record owner. The Cruiser lasted about a month, before I started to become paranoid. Well, paranoid might be the wrong word, since my records started to skip or sound scratched. With my tastes in records, this was quite the problem.
So, I literally spent an entire evening researching what to buy and ended up purchasing an Audio Technica AT-LP-120-USB, after coming to the conclusion that A) I would probably struggle to find a good used record player that I trusted and B) would also need to get a receiver and cabinet, rather than just buying a record player, some speakers and setting up shop on my dining room table. So, after some difficulties with UPS that I won't recount, but it is suffice to say, they are a carrier whom I hope to never do business with again, I was able to set up a real record player that Saturday.
Of course, unlike the Crosley, the Audio Technica required some knowledge of setting up a tone arm and anti-skate, neither of which was really in my wheelhouse. After some struggle, I was able to do so, getting the tone arm to balance correctly, neither grooving my records nor merrily skipping along and not playing. This managed to work for the most part for two months.
So, last night, I'm listening to my brand new live Anti-Nowhere League which I picked up, when I hear that sound. The sound is the scratchy whine of the needle shooting all the way across my record and settling into the paper covering the center of the record. A slight correction to the anti-skate knob made it better. Then, two songs passed and it went straight to the paper again.
Turning off the record player, I waited a day, since I had other issues to handle today and yesterday, I was just not getting it right. Realizing this is not going to work, I sit down and start the process of fixing the record player. First, I make sure the tone arm is balanced, which miraculously it is, since that always takes fifteen minutes, moving it forward, moving it back, bouncing it off the mat, watching it fly away across the record.
This meant it was record test and anti-skate time. Fortunately, I bought a poor copy of Let There Be Rock by AC/DC for a dollar yesterday and began to play it. The needle moved inward way too fast. So, I made a small adjustment and it seems to be working, but not after spending 15 minutes not playing records, so I could play records. There is a slight cruelness to the whole concept, as I all I want it to do is stay setup.
Knowing the way life works, tomorrow, the needle will be moving outward instead of inward, leading to odd sounds and more tinkering.
So, I literally spent an entire evening researching what to buy and ended up purchasing an Audio Technica AT-LP-120-USB, after coming to the conclusion that A) I would probably struggle to find a good used record player that I trusted and B) would also need to get a receiver and cabinet, rather than just buying a record player, some speakers and setting up shop on my dining room table. So, after some difficulties with UPS that I won't recount, but it is suffice to say, they are a carrier whom I hope to never do business with again, I was able to set up a real record player that Saturday.
Of course, unlike the Crosley, the Audio Technica required some knowledge of setting up a tone arm and anti-skate, neither of which was really in my wheelhouse. After some struggle, I was able to do so, getting the tone arm to balance correctly, neither grooving my records nor merrily skipping along and not playing. This managed to work for the most part for two months.
So, last night, I'm listening to my brand new live Anti-Nowhere League which I picked up, when I hear that sound. The sound is the scratchy whine of the needle shooting all the way across my record and settling into the paper covering the center of the record. A slight correction to the anti-skate knob made it better. Then, two songs passed and it went straight to the paper again.
Turning off the record player, I waited a day, since I had other issues to handle today and yesterday, I was just not getting it right. Realizing this is not going to work, I sit down and start the process of fixing the record player. First, I make sure the tone arm is balanced, which miraculously it is, since that always takes fifteen minutes, moving it forward, moving it back, bouncing it off the mat, watching it fly away across the record.
This meant it was record test and anti-skate time. Fortunately, I bought a poor copy of Let There Be Rock by AC/DC for a dollar yesterday and began to play it. The needle moved inward way too fast. So, I made a small adjustment and it seems to be working, but not after spending 15 minutes not playing records, so I could play records. There is a slight cruelness to the whole concept, as I all I want it to do is stay setup.
Knowing the way life works, tomorrow, the needle will be moving outward instead of inward, leading to odd sounds and more tinkering.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
The Scariest Store on Earth
After going to a record show today, I meandered up to my old haunts in Bergen County, primarily to get pizza from Angelo's in Maywood and ice cream from Bischoff's in Teaneck. Despite spending over two hours sifting through what seemed like endless boxes of records, I thought, perhaps I could look at just a few more.
Generally, New Jersey record stores can be sorted into two categories. Category 1 is Vintage Vinyl and the Princeton Record Exchange, which are both excellent record stores with great selection and perfectly acceptable prices. Category 2 is basically every other store I've been too, with stores usually marked by high prices and poor selection. (I'll exclude the new Spina Records from this analysis, since they are both within walking distance of my apartment and actually have records I would willingly and have willingly purchased in the past.)
However, today, I met a store which defies categorization today. Today was my first trip to EZ2Collect in Fair Lawn. I didn't know much about the store before going there, though I did have some trouble finding it, first by being on the wrong side of Broadway in Fair Lawn, which is nigh uncrossable, then by having to walk around the entire lighting store to find the store is actually the basement of the building. Not in the basement, mind you, but the entire basement.
Not prepared for what terrors lurk within, I enter and see items everywhere. Boxes and bins and stacks of records, CDs, cassettes and various video entertainment was piled everywhere. I take a slow, measured walk into the space and decide to look in the first box I find, which is filled with represses of various records, primarily punk rock records at that. Quite the find given the size of the store. I leaf through the records and find nothing I want at a reasonable price, since most of the records on my list were definitely available for less than $29.99 elsewhere. But new records are seldom the lifeblood of a record store, so I thought perhaps I would find better prices elsewhere in the store.
So, as I move down the first row, the gentleman I presume to be the owner introduces himself and asks if I would like some assistance, which I politely decline, though he informs me there are another 100,000 records in the back. I took a peak in the back and can confirm this seems like an accurate, if not small number, but continued searching the store. I eventually found a small section of ska and reggae CDs in the way back of the store, but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger on a Skatalites CD. After passing a box of Christmas records, a box of country records and various boxes which I would define as rock, I make my way back to the front of the store and find some various rock records with an organizational system. These were at least alphabetical by letter and I made it all the way through B, finding a copy of Master of Reality, which was high in price and was also not allowed to look at. I poked around a bit more in these stacks, but really just began walking around the store, trying to look for things.
In reality, I was just overwhelmed by the amount of merchandise crammed into the store. I bet there were some truly great items I would want hidden away in some nook, cranny or pile, but I lacked the insight to gleam where they might be, other than the fairly expensive copies of the Wrestling Album on display. It was just too much chaos to even begin to formulate an effective plan and after about 30 minutes of not finding anything, I slowly worked my way out the back door, never more frightened of a store or the organizational system which kept it together.
Perhaps someday, I will pack a lunch and a soda, and prepare to spend the entire day either attempting to find some records I want or to see a sailboat. I suspect I might see the sailboat first, since I would have an idea of where to look. However, if no fear lurks in your heart, you should definitely go to EZ2Collect and see what you can find, for you, as a braver soul than I, deserve whatever you find.
Generally, New Jersey record stores can be sorted into two categories. Category 1 is Vintage Vinyl and the Princeton Record Exchange, which are both excellent record stores with great selection and perfectly acceptable prices. Category 2 is basically every other store I've been too, with stores usually marked by high prices and poor selection. (I'll exclude the new Spina Records from this analysis, since they are both within walking distance of my apartment and actually have records I would willingly and have willingly purchased in the past.)
However, today, I met a store which defies categorization today. Today was my first trip to EZ2Collect in Fair Lawn. I didn't know much about the store before going there, though I did have some trouble finding it, first by being on the wrong side of Broadway in Fair Lawn, which is nigh uncrossable, then by having to walk around the entire lighting store to find the store is actually the basement of the building. Not in the basement, mind you, but the entire basement.
Not prepared for what terrors lurk within, I enter and see items everywhere. Boxes and bins and stacks of records, CDs, cassettes and various video entertainment was piled everywhere. I take a slow, measured walk into the space and decide to look in the first box I find, which is filled with represses of various records, primarily punk rock records at that. Quite the find given the size of the store. I leaf through the records and find nothing I want at a reasonable price, since most of the records on my list were definitely available for less than $29.99 elsewhere. But new records are seldom the lifeblood of a record store, so I thought perhaps I would find better prices elsewhere in the store.
So, as I move down the first row, the gentleman I presume to be the owner introduces himself and asks if I would like some assistance, which I politely decline, though he informs me there are another 100,000 records in the back. I took a peak in the back and can confirm this seems like an accurate, if not small number, but continued searching the store. I eventually found a small section of ska and reggae CDs in the way back of the store, but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger on a Skatalites CD. After passing a box of Christmas records, a box of country records and various boxes which I would define as rock, I make my way back to the front of the store and find some various rock records with an organizational system. These were at least alphabetical by letter and I made it all the way through B, finding a copy of Master of Reality, which was high in price and was also not allowed to look at. I poked around a bit more in these stacks, but really just began walking around the store, trying to look for things.
In reality, I was just overwhelmed by the amount of merchandise crammed into the store. I bet there were some truly great items I would want hidden away in some nook, cranny or pile, but I lacked the insight to gleam where they might be, other than the fairly expensive copies of the Wrestling Album on display. It was just too much chaos to even begin to formulate an effective plan and after about 30 minutes of not finding anything, I slowly worked my way out the back door, never more frightened of a store or the organizational system which kept it together.
Perhaps someday, I will pack a lunch and a soda, and prepare to spend the entire day either attempting to find some records I want or to see a sailboat. I suspect I might see the sailboat first, since I would have an idea of where to look. However, if no fear lurks in your heart, you should definitely go to EZ2Collect and see what you can find, for you, as a braver soul than I, deserve whatever you find.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Old School Game Show: A Winner is You
Growing up, I watched more than my fair share of television, being part of the earliest generation of children raised mostly indoors. One of my favorite television genres was always game shows, whether they be Sale of the Century, Card Sharks, Classic Concentration, Hot Potato, Joker's Wild, you name it, I watched it. As a child, I used to envision myself being a contestant on one of these game shows, running roughshod over the competition. However, not being especially telegenic and the rapid decline of game shows in the 1990s, the odds of my ever appearing on a game show were terribly slim, leaving this childhood dream left in the dustbin of time, incomplete.
However, I was visiting friends in Boston this weekend, where I was invited to go to the Old School Game Show, which blends participatory theater, sketch comedy, and dance routines, with a hefty dose of 70s through 90s nostalgia, game show and otherwise. After the slightest of arm twisting about staying an extra day in Boston, I agreed to go, getting to live the game show studio audience experience from the comfort of an intimate downstairs theatre. Not having an advanced ticket, I manage to navigate the twisty streets of Somerville to find the box office, purchase a day of ticket and return 20 minutes later with my friends, one of whom was very committed to the concept of participatory dress-up to the inclusion of a fake mustache, whereas I went with a natural beard.
We take seats on the right half of the stage in the second row, where I spend most of the night trying to not lose my name tag in the vain hope that I would be called up. The stage was already set up, with a live band in the back of the stage, a central podium complete with buzzers and shag carpet in front of the band and two large panels, which held the teams Family Feud style with sidewalls of shag carpet and the words Old School emblazoned on the front in orange and blue, using what I believe to be old school Price is Right font.
Finally, the band takes their place at the back and opens with the Hawaii Five-O theme followed by the long version of the A-Team theme, which surprisingly neither my friends nor the stranger to my right knew by sound. I mean, the A-Team theme is iconic and quite possibly one of the best parts of the show, so I would expect the audience to get it...but they didn't. This is followed by an opening sequence which includes equal parts dance, including some incredibly 1980s legwarmers, girls dressed as 80s movie guerrillas, the host dressed as Rambo and a bloodpack. All of which worked seamlessly together to provide both narrative structure and entertainment.
Finally, contestants were called upstage. Like I did for most of the night, I strained to make sure I heard each name correctly, ready to leap up and run to the stage, yet my name was not called. Teams of four were assembled and the first game was played, which was 33s played at 78 speed, requiring you to identify the action movie themed song. Both teams were not very good at this game and one correct answer out of four questions was provided, but this was sufficient for their team to move.
As the night progressed, the flow of events was skit, game show event, skit, game show event. Most of the games were just the right mixture of quirky and old school game show as you would expect. About halfway through the night, one of my friends was called up on stage, where he missed his opportunity to advance toward victory.
As the next to last round of the night started, I anxiously awaited to hear my name, but expected nothing. I had a good time being a studio audience guest and that was good enough. Of course, this being a great story, the second name called was my own. Like a fat woman in a mu mu, I screamed, yelled, whooped, and hollered my way to the stage like no other contestant had, dropping my poor name tag on the way.
For this round, we had to guess the bad joke that followed the movie scene. My team scored early as the guy in front of me won his question, leading me to put my hand on the shag carpeted buzzer stand. The clip was from Eraser, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, a movie I had never seen. Essentially, Arnold shoots an alligator. I move to buzz in, but hesitate, allowing my opponent to choose in a while crocodile, which was wrong. Steeling up my meager courage, I guess "You're Luggage." and get it right, giving our team a commanding two-nil lead. When both my team and the other team failed to answer the next question, I was aware we had mathematically advanced to the finals...where we would face the same team again, murderer's row of alternate trivia, who stayed up forever.
Here, the goal was to eliminate people from the other team until there was one person left from each side. We needed to guess the character's catch phrase. The gentleman in front of me did his job and I squared off against the same person yet again. When Arnold Schwarzenegger showed up as the Terminator on the screen, there was nary a hint of hesitation on my part and I beat my foe to the buzzer, screaming out, "I'll be back!" advancing further. The next person on my team was eliminated and both people in the fourth spot on the team were eliminated for not knowing Bruce Willis's catch phrase from DieHard. So, it came down to myself and the gentleman in front of me. We both sadly blanked on Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now, giving me a window of reprieve and a second shot at the finale. This time, it was something that I knew, won the battle of the buzzer and answered with great joy, advancing to the finals.
Here, we were in the lightning round, something I've waited to do for my whole life, answering a series of questions in rapid fire display. My opponent and I shook hands, with the winner receiving $100 and the loser, one of those fancy old-time video game systems that allows you to play NES and Sega games. The prize was secondary to me, but winning, the pure, unadulterated joy of winning, was all that matter.
My opponent went first, selecting a fine 80's record which revealed the category of artists for songs related to action movies. I stared him down, because really that's what I do when I'm overflowing with tension and nerves, since social grace is not my forte. He starts slow and tanks...he got three questions out of 12 right. He failed Happiness is a Warm Gun. He brought sadness to my heart, since I knew pretty much any category was going to be a slamdunk win if I only needed to guess four right in 30 seconds.
So, I scream out Miami Vice, which flipped over the category of action movie stars. I was handed the stick microphone like game show hosts in the 70s held and braced myself, locking out all other distraction than my overwhelming desire to win and obtaining the right answers to the questions. And I went gangbusters, hitting Jason Statham as the star of Crash right out of the gate, passing four with about 17 seconds to spare, finishing with a big victory total of eight.
Admittedly, had I not won at this juncture, I would never have been able to live down the failure of losing and would be taunted by Sandra Bullock as the star of Speed as one of my guesses. But I won. Fist pumping, bloody jumpsuit guy hugging, giant novelty checking holding won. I almost collapsed, but stayed afloat with my tremendous joy as one of my life's dreams came true. I won a game show, while the final dance routing was completed around me.
If you live in Boston, go to Old School Game Show. It's an amazing time on every level and led to one of the best days of my life, since for once, I was the big winner.
However, I was visiting friends in Boston this weekend, where I was invited to go to the Old School Game Show, which blends participatory theater, sketch comedy, and dance routines, with a hefty dose of 70s through 90s nostalgia, game show and otherwise. After the slightest of arm twisting about staying an extra day in Boston, I agreed to go, getting to live the game show studio audience experience from the comfort of an intimate downstairs theatre. Not having an advanced ticket, I manage to navigate the twisty streets of Somerville to find the box office, purchase a day of ticket and return 20 minutes later with my friends, one of whom was very committed to the concept of participatory dress-up to the inclusion of a fake mustache, whereas I went with a natural beard.
We take seats on the right half of the stage in the second row, where I spend most of the night trying to not lose my name tag in the vain hope that I would be called up. The stage was already set up, with a live band in the back of the stage, a central podium complete with buzzers and shag carpet in front of the band and two large panels, which held the teams Family Feud style with sidewalls of shag carpet and the words Old School emblazoned on the front in orange and blue, using what I believe to be old school Price is Right font.
Finally, the band takes their place at the back and opens with the Hawaii Five-O theme followed by the long version of the A-Team theme, which surprisingly neither my friends nor the stranger to my right knew by sound. I mean, the A-Team theme is iconic and quite possibly one of the best parts of the show, so I would expect the audience to get it...but they didn't. This is followed by an opening sequence which includes equal parts dance, including some incredibly 1980s legwarmers, girls dressed as 80s movie guerrillas, the host dressed as Rambo and a bloodpack. All of which worked seamlessly together to provide both narrative structure and entertainment.
Finally, contestants were called upstage. Like I did for most of the night, I strained to make sure I heard each name correctly, ready to leap up and run to the stage, yet my name was not called. Teams of four were assembled and the first game was played, which was 33s played at 78 speed, requiring you to identify the action movie themed song. Both teams were not very good at this game and one correct answer out of four questions was provided, but this was sufficient for their team to move.
As the night progressed, the flow of events was skit, game show event, skit, game show event. Most of the games were just the right mixture of quirky and old school game show as you would expect. About halfway through the night, one of my friends was called up on stage, where he missed his opportunity to advance toward victory.
As the next to last round of the night started, I anxiously awaited to hear my name, but expected nothing. I had a good time being a studio audience guest and that was good enough. Of course, this being a great story, the second name called was my own. Like a fat woman in a mu mu, I screamed, yelled, whooped, and hollered my way to the stage like no other contestant had, dropping my poor name tag on the way.
For this round, we had to guess the bad joke that followed the movie scene. My team scored early as the guy in front of me won his question, leading me to put my hand on the shag carpeted buzzer stand. The clip was from Eraser, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, a movie I had never seen. Essentially, Arnold shoots an alligator. I move to buzz in, but hesitate, allowing my opponent to choose in a while crocodile, which was wrong. Steeling up my meager courage, I guess "You're Luggage." and get it right, giving our team a commanding two-nil lead. When both my team and the other team failed to answer the next question, I was aware we had mathematically advanced to the finals...where we would face the same team again, murderer's row of alternate trivia, who stayed up forever.
Here, the goal was to eliminate people from the other team until there was one person left from each side. We needed to guess the character's catch phrase. The gentleman in front of me did his job and I squared off against the same person yet again. When Arnold Schwarzenegger showed up as the Terminator on the screen, there was nary a hint of hesitation on my part and I beat my foe to the buzzer, screaming out, "I'll be back!" advancing further. The next person on my team was eliminated and both people in the fourth spot on the team were eliminated for not knowing Bruce Willis's catch phrase from DieHard. So, it came down to myself and the gentleman in front of me. We both sadly blanked on Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now, giving me a window of reprieve and a second shot at the finale. This time, it was something that I knew, won the battle of the buzzer and answered with great joy, advancing to the finals.
Here, we were in the lightning round, something I've waited to do for my whole life, answering a series of questions in rapid fire display. My opponent and I shook hands, with the winner receiving $100 and the loser, one of those fancy old-time video game systems that allows you to play NES and Sega games. The prize was secondary to me, but winning, the pure, unadulterated joy of winning, was all that matter.
My opponent went first, selecting a fine 80's record which revealed the category of artists for songs related to action movies. I stared him down, because really that's what I do when I'm overflowing with tension and nerves, since social grace is not my forte. He starts slow and tanks...he got three questions out of 12 right. He failed Happiness is a Warm Gun. He brought sadness to my heart, since I knew pretty much any category was going to be a slamdunk win if I only needed to guess four right in 30 seconds.
So, I scream out Miami Vice, which flipped over the category of action movie stars. I was handed the stick microphone like game show hosts in the 70s held and braced myself, locking out all other distraction than my overwhelming desire to win and obtaining the right answers to the questions. And I went gangbusters, hitting Jason Statham as the star of Crash right out of the gate, passing four with about 17 seconds to spare, finishing with a big victory total of eight.
Admittedly, had I not won at this juncture, I would never have been able to live down the failure of losing and would be taunted by Sandra Bullock as the star of Speed as one of my guesses. But I won. Fist pumping, bloody jumpsuit guy hugging, giant novelty checking holding won. I almost collapsed, but stayed afloat with my tremendous joy as one of my life's dreams came true. I won a game show, while the final dance routing was completed around me.
If you live in Boston, go to Old School Game Show. It's an amazing time on every level and led to one of the best days of my life, since for once, I was the big winner.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Hub City Stompers: Three Times, Eight Days
In somewhat less than a two week period, I managed to find time to sneak in seven shows in the Northeast across three states. The band I saw the most times was the Hub City Stompers, who I must admit I had never seen before, despite being a lifelong resident of New Jersey and having gone to more than my fair share of ska shows in New York City. Actually, at the Big Apple Stomp was the first and only time I saw Inspecter 7. By all rights, I should have been a fan earlier, either due to connections or access, but Radical Records never really hit me the way Moon Ska did and their track's position on Oi/Skampiliation Volume 1 did not lend itself to more review by me as it is between Ray Gun Sally by the Slackers and Rudy Don't Fear by the Insteps, which I always forwarded to, given how absolutely mindblowingly good the Insteps were.
So, more armed with knowledge of their music, I planned to see them in Poughkeepsie, since they were opening for Pilfers, who I would definitely drive two hours for without question and then last Friday at Asbury Lanes. The Friday before, I was sitting around my apartment with little to do and said, screw it, let's go to Dingbatz for their first show back. Earlier in the day, I had familiarized myself with their sound with some of their music on Spotify. I actually thought Dirty Jersey was a very good CD and when I arrived purchased the CD from the merchandise table, so I could listen to it in my car and without commercial interruption.
As an aside, I am a big fan of the merchandise table. It allows me, the consumer, an opportunity to provide direct, material support to the bands whose music I enjoy. Generally, I spend less on a CD than I used to spend on lunch when I worked in Jersey City, unless it is the Slackers merchandise table, where I just buy everything I don't own. But it allows me to make that direct impact, which is why I always go over the merchandise table and see if there is something I don't own or want. Over the course of three shows, I purchased Dirty Jersey, Mass Appeal, Baa Baa Black Sheep and a Hub City Stompers T-Shirt, even though I don't actually wear T-Shirts outside of my apartment. But again, that isn't the point. If I want to be able to go to more Hub City Stompers or Slackers or Pilfers or Sammy Kay shows in the future, then I should buy merchandise for them, to make what they do financially viable for them to allow me to have fun. As a random point, I was actually disappointed the Copacetics didn't have a CD in Rhode Island for me to buy, since I couldn't support them directly that night.
As to the Hub City Stompers, they put on three great shows in eight days. Each show was different, which is harder to do when you have a catalog of 30 songs instead of 150 songs like the Slackers. Their sound is somewhat hard for me to describe. There are definitely ska punk elements found in the music, but the not the lyrical sound of the band, which thanks to Rev Sinister takes on more of a toaster feel. To draw an analogy, I have to move toward the Pilfers, but with a more fun, sarcastic take on their sound.
To be polite, their lyrics definitely push boundaries and think if you don't have a good sense of humor, might be inadvertently construed as offensive. But the lyrics are also exceptionally clever, which is very surprising from ska bands, who are notorious for thinking they are far more clever than they actually are. But here, topics are pushed and pulled in ways you don't expect and usually in an enjoyable way. Their horn work is very good as well, which is critical for a ska band. It's not the subtle, intricate work of the Slackers, but it is a full on bombast designed to complement the punk and oi overtones of many of their songs.
And their stage show is great. Rev Sinister and Jenny Whiskey have great stage presence and chemistry together, doing bits together in perfect time. The rest of the band plays strong and has just enough personality to not be completely overshadowed by the front of the stage. Admittedly, they are one of those bands I could see three times in eight days and would definitely want to see again. If I still believed in regret for what I did or did not do with my life in the past, I would regret not getting into the Hub City Stompers sooner, but I can only atone for that by going to more shows while they are in the area.
So, more armed with knowledge of their music, I planned to see them in Poughkeepsie, since they were opening for Pilfers, who I would definitely drive two hours for without question and then last Friday at Asbury Lanes. The Friday before, I was sitting around my apartment with little to do and said, screw it, let's go to Dingbatz for their first show back. Earlier in the day, I had familiarized myself with their sound with some of their music on Spotify. I actually thought Dirty Jersey was a very good CD and when I arrived purchased the CD from the merchandise table, so I could listen to it in my car and without commercial interruption.
As an aside, I am a big fan of the merchandise table. It allows me, the consumer, an opportunity to provide direct, material support to the bands whose music I enjoy. Generally, I spend less on a CD than I used to spend on lunch when I worked in Jersey City, unless it is the Slackers merchandise table, where I just buy everything I don't own. But it allows me to make that direct impact, which is why I always go over the merchandise table and see if there is something I don't own or want. Over the course of three shows, I purchased Dirty Jersey, Mass Appeal, Baa Baa Black Sheep and a Hub City Stompers T-Shirt, even though I don't actually wear T-Shirts outside of my apartment. But again, that isn't the point. If I want to be able to go to more Hub City Stompers or Slackers or Pilfers or Sammy Kay shows in the future, then I should buy merchandise for them, to make what they do financially viable for them to allow me to have fun. As a random point, I was actually disappointed the Copacetics didn't have a CD in Rhode Island for me to buy, since I couldn't support them directly that night.
As to the Hub City Stompers, they put on three great shows in eight days. Each show was different, which is harder to do when you have a catalog of 30 songs instead of 150 songs like the Slackers. Their sound is somewhat hard for me to describe. There are definitely ska punk elements found in the music, but the not the lyrical sound of the band, which thanks to Rev Sinister takes on more of a toaster feel. To draw an analogy, I have to move toward the Pilfers, but with a more fun, sarcastic take on their sound.
To be polite, their lyrics definitely push boundaries and think if you don't have a good sense of humor, might be inadvertently construed as offensive. But the lyrics are also exceptionally clever, which is very surprising from ska bands, who are notorious for thinking they are far more clever than they actually are. But here, topics are pushed and pulled in ways you don't expect and usually in an enjoyable way. Their horn work is very good as well, which is critical for a ska band. It's not the subtle, intricate work of the Slackers, but it is a full on bombast designed to complement the punk and oi overtones of many of their songs.
And their stage show is great. Rev Sinister and Jenny Whiskey have great stage presence and chemistry together, doing bits together in perfect time. The rest of the band plays strong and has just enough personality to not be completely overshadowed by the front of the stage. Admittedly, they are one of those bands I could see three times in eight days and would definitely want to see again. If I still believed in regret for what I did or did not do with my life in the past, I would regret not getting into the Hub City Stompers sooner, but I can only atone for that by going to more shows while they are in the area.
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