Showing posts with label NYC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NYC. Show all posts

Monday, October 22, 2012

Viva La Vinyl!







For many years, I wanted to live in my current neighborhood but everything that was once appealing about it is rapidly fading away like an old Polaroid photo in reverse. St. Mark's Place looks like a mall and the NYU kids and whoo-hoo girls have made the place seem like an extension of college. Adding to my disappointment is the fact that one of the two record stores on my block closed this weekend. I've always found it odd (yet refreshing) that in an era where record stores are becoming extinct, our block has been able to sustain two shops. Until now. This store is collateral damage of the digital music revolution and its conquering of all physical music media. As if that weren't enough of an opponent, they're also on the losing side of the gentrification of the East Village. The building now has new owners and, if you live in New York City, there's no need to spell out the rest.

While I was only in there once or twice and never bought anything, I'm always saddened when a small business owner in the East Village is forced to shutter a business and seek livelihood elsewhere. When it's a record store, I feel an extra bit of sorrow. As much as I love the convenience of things like MP3s and Spotify, I will be the first to tell you that the sonic quality of these mediums does not measure up to a physical record. Whenever I put on a piece of vinyl, I immediately recognize the warm thump of bass that I never get to hear through those white earbuds. That timbre reaches down to my bones and warms me from the inside. There's now an entire generation of people who will never know this feeling. I can't blame the kids, really, as they're not being given the option to experience music any other way. For those of you who know better and who turned your backs for the sake of convenience, shame on you.

I heard that the owners are planning to go to LA and give things a shot there. I hope they make it.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Eight Ramones A-Scamming


My part-time bouncer gig was the best job I've ever had. I'm grateful that for three years, I was a tiny part of the history of a grand New York music institution. The job was not nearly as tough as one might think. It might come as a surprise that the best shows for me in terms of crowd behavior were the hardcore shows. The worst moment that sticks out in my memory was being body-checked by the mother of a fan of a big teenybopper band who was hysterical about some minor thing I can no longer recall. Her over-the-top reaction was surely due in large part to the fact that she had been sitting on the sidewalk all day with her kid waiting to get inside and hadn't eaten.

The gig involved standing guard over a velvet rope in front of the VIP/backstage section. A large chunk of my job consisted of repeated variations on politely saying “no, this area is for people with VIP passes” and “the bathrooms are downstairs”. Most people were ok with that but some tried the “don't you know who I am” bit. (The reply of “no, I'm sorry I don't” took the wind out of quite a few sails.) A few others won points for creativity including the 12-year old girl who tried to slip me 5 bucks and the eight guys at a Ramones tribute show who swore they were former members of The Ramones. From working at shows, I now understand why bouncers tend to be terse. After being treated poorly by people who fancy themselves to be more important than everyone else, you tend to become less cheery over time. I tried my best to be polite and accommodating but I'll admit I strayed a few times and apologize to anyone I may have treated poorly.

For those who have tried to weasel their way backstage or who have been overbearing to a bouncer, here's what it looks like from the other side of the rope:

Offering cash to get to the VIP or backstage area brands you as a schmuck with no class and no respect for money.

The bottom line: if the band really wanted your sorry ass to be in the VIP area, they would make sure to provide you with a pass. Bouncers don't give a shit who gets to stand on the “cool” side of the rope. When I was working, the only important thing on my mind was the end time of the show because I knew I'd be home within 45 minutes. Bouncers get paid the same regardless of who is hanging out in the VIP area. An honest worker trying to make an honest buck will not let you in without a pass because he/she is doing his job with the same integrity that you would hopefully maintain at your place of work. The bouncer has nothing against you as he/she doesn't know you beyond the fact that you are Person Without Pass.

Your allegedly unique take on getting past the rope has been heard hundreds of times. As soon as you offer money, it’s as if you’re saying “Look, I’m really just a schmuck who’s not as cool as I would like you to think. I have no connections anywhere and I’m hoping for a piece of glamour to get me through the night”. What struck me as especially appalling about attempted bribes was the fact that I was being offered as much as $500 to sneak people past a velvet rope when there were people sleeping in the streets down the block from the venue.

No, I am not interested in oral sex from you”

Please note that the bouncer can't leave a post for a quick one as payment for a better view of the show. Also, in this era of STDs, the guy at the rope would have to carefully consider what other superficial thing you are willing to risk your health over and decide if it's worth a roll of the dice to hook up with you. The thought that always struck me at times like these was: once you’ve given away the prize of VIP access for the promise of some action after the show, THERE IS NO MORE INCENTIVE FOR THESE WOMEN TO SLEEP WITH YOU. As those who have let women past the velvet rope can attest, the night will end, you’ll get your “goodnight” hug, and you will go home. Alone. Again.

I don’t have to let you fight with me

One of the best things I gained from the job is the ability to manage potential conflict without the need for escalating words or actions. A life coach friend likes to say that if you don’t throw the ball back, there is no game. When you’re arguing over how important you are when you are turned away, there's nothing left for the bouncer to add to the discussion. My move was to turn my head and slowly walk away, pretending that I was unable to hear the person behind me. It’s silly to argue with the back of someone’s head although a few tried valiantly.
The other thing that worked was to not deviate from the script. When I told someone politely (because that’s how I usually rolled) that I was unable to accommodate a trip into VIP Land and they tried to find some other reason why I should, I would just say “I’m sorry I can’t let you in” each time. It’s difficult to escalate an argument when the other person is not willing to participate. If someone kept jabbering at me, I would throw them my “moron” look that I perfected during my tenure: vacant eyes with mouth held slightly open. I learned that looking stupid really disarms people. With these methods I can say that I avoided conflict about 98% of the time.

For most of the time I was in the job, I was able to shrug off the tiny percentage of irritating people who crossed my path. When it got to the point where petty annoying people ended up taking up space in my head, I knew it was time to hang up the radio and flashlight. We always wish that good things will remain good forever but unfortunately, that wish is inconsistent with the way that life ebbs and flows. Chapters close and chapters open. I'll always remember this particular chapter fondly.

Image courtesy of http://www.worshipperiod.com.

Monday, April 18, 2011

She Was No Woo Woo Girl


If only all of them would come out as quickly as this one from The Chavos' "Billsburg Sessions" did. Whereas some songs have taken months to complete, “East Village Art Girl” was begging to be let out of the brain. It was one of those moments a songwriter yearns for: grab pen, write verses, grab guitar, find chords, complete. No stopping for air or pee break. As you will soon find out when you hit the Play button, it's not deeply profound but then again neither was “Tutti Fruiti” and that seemed to work out just fine for Little Richard, even if he was ripped off by The Man in terms of royalties.

The inspiration came from observing (ok, leering) at someone before, during, and after a Krzysztof Kieslowski screening at an East Village bar that may no longer exist. It's safe to say that she was definitely not one of the woo woo girls who haunt Second Avenue in the EV on any given Friday or Saturday night. As with many rock songs, names have been eliminated to protect the guilty.

So have a listen and share thoughts if you wish. If you want your own copy, hit me up and we'll make it happen.

Photo courtesy of http://www.dnainfo.com