You might have called last week the Ghost of Jamband Past. Well, some definite present was mixed in there as well.
Thursday night, the Mighty Medeski Martin Wood (MMMW) made their debut at the new Williamsburg Music Hall. First off, this place IS the Bowery Ballroom. Not similar to, it IS. When you walk in, its like they cloned the basement holding pen, and moved it across the river. Maybe added a few more slick leather couches. The main room has a slightly more industrial feel, which I am a fan of. Since the MMW is based in brooklyn, many new it would be a special evening- new venue, old band, hipster kids. Well, not so much the last. Some may remember my previous MMW related post, in which a Halloween show was nearly ruined by several disrespectful underage crowd members. This was nearly the complete opposite, and I could not be happier.
The crowd was wonderful. Nearly everyone was extremely attentive, reacting very well to the music. When Medeski tore up the melodica, 500 people were right there with him, acknowledging the greatness of this wind powered keyboard. (there was a time in my life where I played melodica as a multi instrumentalist in an LA Folk Chick Rock Band, I called it Satan’s Harmonica.) When wood picked up the Upright, we all showed our excitement for the greatest bass instrument known to man. When Billy threw a smaller cowbell at his giant cowbell on the floor, we celebrated a Clash Of The Titans Of Percussion. The dynamics of the room were completely intertwined. Oh the MMW, how we love thee.
We ran into Billy on the street beforehand. As I have mentioned, I’m always concerned he’ll be like “who the hell are you? please go away.” But he gave me a double take and was all “HEY!” so I felt ok about it. I really need to go back to studying his polyrhythmic technique. Its not so much that its incredibly useful in everyday drumming, it just makes the easy stuff so much easier.
They closed with Joe Zawinul’s Mercy Mercy Mercy, a wonderful tribute. Again, the entire crowd, on the chorus, sang the highest note of the horn line. It was a spectacular sight to be seen. The Hammerstein Halloween crowd would have had no idea, and Brooklyn hipsters would be way to cool to try anything like that, so who the hell was this crowd? I guess its that whole “crossing a river” thing, and those NJ Port Authority kids just don’t get it.
On Saturday, I attended one of the most entertaining shows in recent memory. Not necessarily because of the band, but oh the crowd…the crowd.
There is a band called The Disco Biscuits. They still exist, although they may not be as popular as they once were. In the late 90’s, early 2000’s it was certain that their rise to glory would be spectacular. A Phish-esque triumph over the main stream traditional values of music industry success. Then something happened. What it was? I’m not sure, and I dont think anyone else is either. They sort of stopped being amazing. Their drummer also left to go to med school. That could have something to do with it.
Their fans though, were a sight to be seen. The look was somewhere between Preppy Abercrombie Douche Bag, and Homeless Man With Dreadlocks. Take a second, imagine it, I’ll wait. Ok, we’re back. Popped Collar, sideways hat, sandals, dreadlocks, huge beard, patchouli stong enough to sedate a giraffe. For a bit, I wondered where these kids went. Do they go off and get jobs? Retreat to a commune in the woods? No, they go see Sound Tribe.
Oddly enough, Marc Brownstein from the Disco Biscuits was standing in the Balcony. He must have been like “Shit man, these are MY KIDS!”. The band was not terrible, but not totally memorable. They could have had a solid black curtain on the stage, I would still have been entertained as hell. These are the whitest kids you have seen, ingesting god knows what, and getting all “Studio 54″ on eachother. One particularly memorable chap, was definitely swaying to his own rhythm, gyrating jaggedly to some drummer who was definitely not in the same building. What a wonderful kid. He’ll probably get a job on wall street in a few years.
I wore a suit jacket for the evening, ya know, its a special occasion. The decision was made to remove it, after many glaring looks of disapproval from the dreadlocked masses, and those are not kids you want to upset. No sit. So I remove my bag to put the jacket in…and no sooner does it hit the floor than some lanky dude in a polo descends upon me and says “What We Pumpin Out Of Here Boss??” My reply was “Um, I’m putting away a jacket over here” he goes “oh, sorry”. And slowly backs away. I guess I looked like a drug dealer.
Thats the vibe I like to give off. Drug Dealing Gruff Biker Exterior.