Zac Clark, Rocker Tycoon

The Rogue Rock Writer, Half in the Bag, Submersed in the Scene

The Awful Truth about Mice, Men, Hounds, and Cryptkeepers

with one comment

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. I believe Robert Burns said that once. Or more likely, after he came up with such a genius thing to say he probably repeated it as often as possible, (pissing off his friends due to the fact that the man kept repeating himself) until someone else decided it was genius as well. Thusly history will remember him as the guy who said that thing we all say when we fuck up and shrug our shoulders. But egoism aside, it’s a pretty reliable quote. My plan Saturday was to go to Siren fest, see some bands get good and drunk then follow up the show by heading to Brooklyn to see The Cryptkeeper Five at the Trash Bar.

In reality that sounds, much like Communism. That is to say it works well on paper.
Instead I spent a few extra hours waiting for friends to arrive (Wayward Winos, I’m pointing fingers here), then we grabbed a little food and had a few drinks then caught up on life and that sort of thing. So by the time we got to Coney Island it was 5:45pm. The place itself was packed without much room to move around or even get anywhere near the bands for pics. We decided, or I did at least to just treat the event as a day at the state fair. Grab some food and have a few drinks, afterwards we’d catch the main act: Built to Spill. I’ll make this easy, BTS seemed like they were phoning it in. In all honesty, I was 600 feet from the stage and I’ve never been that much of a fan to begin with so, their fans and people who were closer to the stage most likely got a much more inspired show.

About halfway through the set we made for the train, but not before I snagged some coffee. Melanie of the Wayward Winos, used to work at Café Cito, located over on the Lower East Side. We decided to go have a little food before we headed into Brooklyn for CK5. That was the best Idea of the day. The Salmon was out of sight as well as the plantains that accompanied the dish. We indulged in margaritas, and good old fashioned conversation, which is a commodity lately. I rarely get to see Paul and Melanie as they traverse the world like Uncle Traveling Matt from Fraggle Rock. It was about 10:45pm as we made our way toward Brooklyn. We decided to take a cab. Now had the cabbie known were the hell he was headed we would have been in luck. Sadly, he had not idea, good thing Paul’s Iphone was handy. After a quick tour of Williamsburg, we arrived at the Trash bar.

As soon as I entered the Trash Bar, I knew I was home. Beautiful people doing the rock thing, gorgeous bartenders, and cheap beer. Whats not to love? As I walked into the door I was greeted by the cats from Honah Lee! I had just missed their set. They were hangin out waiting to see CK5 play their set. We headed to the back where the live music happened. $8 cover was fair for the number of bands that were set to play and there was a free comp cd being given away. Beantown Boozehounds were just setting up.

Before I go on I want to make an observation. When in Rome drink wine or Sambuca or what ever the hell the Roman’s drank, goat’s blood for all I care. I say that to say this; PBR is $4 at the Trash Bar, When in Brooklyn Drink PBR. Do it to be ironic, or do it because it’s cheap, or do it because $4 this side of the NJ turnpike is more rare than an honest woman.

Beantown Boozehounds are Boston’s drunkest celtic punk quartet. This is Street Punk Boston style. Songs about hanging w/friends and drinkin’ songs about going out and drinking, songs about driving and…you guessed it drinkin’. Hopefully for everyone’s sake, it’s all in jest. I suspect not. Ha! Beantown Chad (Guitar,Mandolin,Vocals), Gallows (Guitar,Vocals), Rob B. Ridiculous (Bass,Vocals), and Ricky Magic (Drums, Vocals) make up this foursome of roustabouts. It seems like everyone had a song they sang lead on. This band has four frontmen! There was a lot of energy during their set. And then in Trash bar fashion, someone just walked up to the stage and spit beer all over Rob B. Ridiculous! Like a lot of beer, so much I actually thought to myself, “Wow that’s a lot of beer to waste!” They didn’t even flinch! The song continued as if nothing happened! And this happened several times! It was like some wacky sign of respect like that scene in Dune where they spit on the floor, to seal a deal! This was my kinda scene indeed!

A little while after Cryptkeeper Five was introduced. Paul And Melanie (the Wayward Winos) and I traded off duties with the video camera. The guys from Honah Lee and I got things going in the pit. D.T. Graves kicked it off with a march on the drums. Johnny growled over the mic, “Hey Motherfucker let’s rock this joint!” And the rest of the guys followed in suit. CK5 were in rare form! Trenton’s rock-a-billy quintet was mixing up a sinister stew. Each member an essential ingredient: Jimmy Ray keeping it classy with guitar, Jay West bringin it down on bass, Ceilidh “Blue” Madigan, wailing the Sax. DT Grave’s drums for seasoning and Johnny on vox and Guitar for taste. The crowd seemed a little intimidated though, no one was dancing….. That’s when Johnny spoke up, “We have two songs left so if you’re thinking about dancing then nows the time.” That was all the push I needed. Myself, Tim, Jim, Anthony, and Justin (the boys of Honah Lee) got to work. And when those two songs were over they played and encore! Check that out below.

After the show Paul, Mel and I said our goodbyes. And made for the door. We spent about forty minutes wandering about in the wrong direction in brroklyn looking for the train. Our plan was to meet Mel’s friend Meg on Christie Street for a little more drinking and dancing. Exhaustion once again foiled our plans and we made for the Path. Once on the PATH, Paul nodded of and I started getting a little tired. THEN without any warning this happened. Go ahead take it. Let it simmer, try it again. Then scream WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!

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Written by rockertycoon

July 24, 2009 at 3:16 pm

One Response

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  1. It sounds like you might know this, but that Burns line is from a poem about tyranny. It's not about fucking up at all. It's about how things that are bigger than you can take everything you have and you're powerless against it.

    A lot of the poetry from that time in Ireland and Scotland is amazing–our modern ideas of irony and self-deprecation as humorous derive from the juxtaposition of playfulness and melancholy in their acceptance of English imperialism.

    Rachel

    July 27, 2009 at 1:35 pm


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