Michael Azerrad's Blog, page 7

OVERHEARD: NO PUSSY BLUES

THE PLACE: Madison Square Garden
THE PLAYERS: Nick Cave and a heckler

NICK CAVE: This song is called "No Pussy Blues."
HECKLER: "WELL, YOU'RE UGLY ��� WHAT ELSE WOULD IT BE CALLED?"

OVERHEARD: NO CHOICE BUT RED BULL

THE PLACE: The sidewalk in front of the lesbian bar Henrietta Hudson's on Hudson Street
THE PLAYER: A tattooed woman in a t-shirt stood, clasping a can of Red Bull and talking into a cellphone

TATTOOED WOMAN: "It tastes like a man's sweaty ass. But I have no choice."

OVERHEARD: ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT THE BAND BEIRUT

THE PLACE: The Northsix club in Williamsburg
THE BAND: Beirut
THE PLAYERS: A guy and his date

GUY: "One of the great things about this band is their songs are usually pretty short, so even if they're bad they don't last that long."

OVERHEARD: HELPFUL DIRECTIONS

THE PLACE: The lobby of 100 Park Avenue
THE PLAYERS: An Hispanic messenger and the guard at the security desk

MESSENGER: "Fifteen floor?"
GUARD: "Next one on the left. [Adds, helpfully] "El next one on the lefto."

OVERHEARD: FUZZY CARDIGAN

THE PLACE: A midtown photo studio
THE PLAYERS: a photographer and me, wearing my favorite fuzzy black cardigan.

PHOTOGRAPHER: "You know what I call that kind of sweater? That's a Kurt Cobain sweater!"
ME: "Ha, you're right!"

OVERHEARD: A SCREAMER

THE PLACE: The #1 train leaving Times Square
THE PLAYERS: A normal-looking 40-ish guy and a normal-looking 30-ish woman

GUY: So he's a screamer, right?
WOMAN: Yes.
GUY: Then I'd slap him.

OVERHEARD: REAL FUN

THE PLACE: 41st Street between Madison and Park
THE PLAYER: A burly, buzz-cut young guy in a loud print shirt, talking intently into a cellphone earpiece

BUZZ-CUT GUY: "It was real. And it was fun. But it wasn't real fun."

OVERHEARD: YOU ARE THE MAN!

THE PLACE: Madison Avenue and 40th Street
THE PLAYER: A middle-aged businessman-type talking into his cellphone

MIDDLE-AGED BUSINESSMAN-TYPE: "You are the man! [lowers voice] But I liked it better when you were the woman. And I really mean that."

OVERHEARD: STARTING WITH PARENTHESES

THE PLACE: Battery Park City
THE TIME: Mid-afternoon on a grey November day
THE PLAYER: A middle-aged man with oversized white sunglasses and pink hair, pushing an empty baby stroller.

MAN: "I don't think you can start with parentheses. Don't do weird things."

ON THE OCCASION OF LADDIO BOLOCKO �����LIVE AND UNRELEASED 1997 ��� 2000

    One fortuitous evening in the autumn of 2000, I walked into the Bowery Ballroom in New York. I was there to see Trans Am. But I happened to get there early and caught the entire set by the opening band. They were all pallid, malnourished guys in black turtlenecks; they looked like characters in a Beckett play or a painting by Egon Schiele. And they were amazing: pounding, odd meter rhythms that would be the envy of any prog band, but with a brutal sense of sex and violence that very few prog bands ever attain. Savage and brainy, they grooved so hard that you could dance to even the craziest rhythms.
    They would play motifs, as in jazz, then riff on variations on them, then move on to a new section. They were listening to each other like jazz musicians, and with the extraordinary technique of jazz musicians too, but with the incantatory repetition of the so-called (I hate this term) krautrock bands. Those German bands called their music "motorik" ��� expressly designed for driving ��� but I'm not sure you'd want to drive to this music. You would wind up zooming off a cliff and hitting the ground in an earth-shaking fireball.
    It was freakin' intense. I was blown away.
    Afterwards, between sets, they were hanging out in the audience, in front of the stage. I really wanted to know who they were. But I also didn't want to know who they were ��� I kind of didn't want to hear them speak, because I thought it might ruin the spell. I couldn't even figure out whether they were American or not, because they didn't sing, or even say anything between songs. They seemed maybe Eastern European, but only because they were so pale and dissipated-looking. But curiosity got the better of me and I worked up the nerve to walk up to one of them. "Man, you guys are great! Do you have a mailing list? When's your next gig?" And the guy said very flatly, in straightforward American-accented English, "That was our last show." There must be a German word for feeling both lucky and sad.
    I had the foresight to buy the CD they were selling at the show, which was great because in the months that followed I was able to find very little information about the band, and it was nearly impossible to buy any of their records. They had no website, there was no current contact information on their CD, and there had been very little written about them. So I had to satisfy myself with the memory of that mind-roasting set, and until now one single CD would have to be my souvenir.
    Later, a couple of them formed the Psychic Paramount, who are jaw-droppingly amazing in a different way, and I have since made it my business to see them whenever I can.
    Anyway, the moral of the story is: always catch the opening band.

Laddio Bolocko's Live and Unreleased 1997-2000 is available on the redoubtable No Quarter Records.