Most people have known what they what to be when they grow up for a very long time. Whether or not you actually made this dream a reality is up to each of us to decide; we may have gotten to our goal and became a veterinarian or rock star; some of us are still struggling to make that dream come true. Some folks just dream forever and never try; my dream of what I wanted to be when I grew up is something I've tinkered with my entire life. As longtime readers of my blog can affirm; I've always wanted to be a writer. I have never written anything that I have been paid for, save the poetry contest I won my sophomore year in high school where I wrote a long narrative style poem in the style of Oscar Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol, of which I had I recently discovered and devoured, about an Irish immigrant – a woman who left her lover and was a stowaway on a liner bound for America... I got $25. Other than that; it's all journals, notebooks, blogs and unsent (and some sent, yet copies kept) love letters. I finished my first novel when I was in 8th grade... total crap, I promise you. I wrote it on my first word processor, a Brother WP-3400. It's premise was what you would expect from someone like me at that age; a kid in love with someone who didn't know I exist and suddenly we meet through some outrageous twist of fate and fall in love – BUT IT WAS A DREAM THE WHOLE TIME!
….jaysus. I, honest to god, begged my dad to make me 8 copies of that shitstack and I literally sent it out to publishers, whose addresses I found by begging my mom a ride to the local library and actually using reference books to “how to publish a book.”
...when I think about how hard you had to hustle pre-internet to get anything done, I am overwhelmed with how unlikely this dream all seems. You kids got it too easy these days, man!
So I keep on blogging... after the “teenage dream” novel, I set out on my next novel that I started my freshman year of high school; an ambitious effort! I actually did heavy research for this one; spent every weekend for months in the library getting my facts straight – it was set in Northern Ireland during the heavy bombing campaigns by the IRA in the 1980s... I'd just discovered U2, you see, and my social consciousness curtain was ripped wide open. A little more than ¾ into that novel I signed myself up and saved allowance to pay for a creative writing workshop held not far from my high school... I was the youngest in the class by a good 5 years... it was helpful and an excellent resource but a total mindfuck... sometimes someone teaches or tells you something that opens your mind's eye so wide you can never shut it again; the woman who lead the workshop read an excerpt from my novel in process and she said it was more or less good, I cant remember any kind of praise because what she said next changed my writing abilities forever... “It's good but not believable, you can only write what you know and the reader can always tell”... so basically, if I wanted to write about a story set in Belfast, Northern Ireland, how could I expect success if I've never been there? This information settled like a ton of bricks in my understanding of the universe and my abilities to process it... If I wanted to write about true love, how could I if I had never experienced it? If I wanted to write about different cultures and continents, how could I without traveling the world? If I wanted to tell my story, how could I until I felt and understood myself completely?
What transpired after that conversation was a relentless, exhaustive, yet still ongoing quest to see, feel, hear, experience, taste, love and live EVERYTHING so I could write about it. I started making travel plans that very afternoon. This little bit of information may help any of those still trying to decipher my intensity, self-absorption, and main directive in life. I can't settle down, I can't marry, I can't buy a home or stay in one place too long... not until I am satisfied that I can finally “write what I know.”
I have had epiphanies. I have had moments of such divine clarity that I have been rendered speechless for days. I have had dreadful realizations about human existence that sent me into blackout drunks spanning over weeks at a time. I have walked away from opportunities and people that were “too easy” because without plot advancement, there was no narrative. I have inadvertently placed myself in treacherous situations in a subconscious effort for a good story. I have taken chances most people interested in retaining their health, sanity, or assets would never consider. All of this in the name of my dream.
Earlier last year I was laid off from a job of 9 years that I didn't know I loved until it was gone; much like much everything in my life I can only truly love in hindsight... after the world opened all it's doors and windows wide to me, I became overwhelmed... Another job? School? Move away? Travel? ...Travel! So after a month or two of floundering and tossing ideas into the universe I finally took the one big chance I never dared myself to take; give away almost all my possessions and run away.
I can't tell you for sure the moment I knew I wanted to come home; it honestly depends on the moment you ask me... homesickness? My ex? Exhaustion? My health? But in true-me fashion, the decision to return was made just as suddenly as the one to leave. And now I have found myself floundering once again, unable to commit to one single idea or situation; save this one... In the first few nights I was all alone in that jungle I faced my own kind of magic-mirror gate and I sat down and I started to write. All of those years of saving up stories and living these tragedies and victories began to spill out of me and it hasn't stopped since.
I offer this to you now, my sparse and loyal blogfolk, as a brief-as-i-can-get explanation of the lack of updates that you have seen since I've been back; I am writing. For me. Not blogs, not journal, not love letters I'll never send, not letters I'll send and BCC myself on to use as reference for the future.... none of that. I am finally telling my story. I have you, those who encouraged, inspired, contributed and supported me in these past few years to thank for that.
In the mean time, I will try my best to write and update as inspiration strikes but you may also feel free to follow me on twitter, as I use the blog's account to live tweet as many shows as I attend, which is honestly as many as it's ever been. There will be many more. The story isn't over yet, but for the first time in my life the term “open ended” doesn't scare the shit out of me.
Here are some things that have happened since my last post (in no particular order,) in case you haven't been peeping my twitter:
dum dum girls
IWTDI as In the Name of Love
"Sepultura" at the Great Coverup
"Motörhead" at the Great Coverup
Hank Sinatra at the Benefit for Brisco
Same as it Ever Was - the best Talking Heads tribute band ever!
"Sonic Youth" at the Great Coverup
"FEAR" at the Great Coverup
"The Ramones" at the Great Coverup
Colossus at the Demon Eye CD Release party
Holly Hunt in Wilmington
Demon Eye CD Release Party
this guy.
There is more; There is always more... I'll be around, I promise! xoxo
I was born in Raleigh, North Carolina
on July 22, 1977 at the Old Rex Hospital that once sat at the corner
of Wade Avenue and St. Mary's Street. My earliest childhood memories,
as long-time readers of my blog may be able to affirm, are saturated with the landmarks and buildings of the capital city that have been
around much longer than I. Over the years some of these buildings still stand, some have seen remodels or changed locations entirely;
others are long gone. One of my long standing stories that I tend to
tell from time to time is that when I first got my license in 1993,
against the express instructions from my parents not to do so, I
drove straight into downtown Raleigh and began what would become my
20 year run of hanging out at Cup a Joe on Hillsborough Street (And
it should come as no surprise, this is where I sit now, writing this
to you).
36 years of Hillsborough street... I
have many memories... some highlights...
1983, NCSU wins the NCAA
championship... my dad, an NCSU Alumni decides he must take his
family on a cruise up H-boro to celebrate with his comrades. My mom's
car at the time, an ancient royal blue escort, is splashed and coated
with red latex paint on the passenger side. In my skewed kid-memory,
the streets and everything surrounding is snow-white with toilet
paper, anything not covered in TP is on fire.
I persist in begging my parents to take
us to “That place with the cherry on top!” ...an ice cream parlor
on the corner of Dan Allen called Swanson's(?). I distinctly remember
once making the decision to order “bubble gum” ice cream and
being furiously irritated as there were actual pieces of gumballs in
it and ice cream shouldn't be work.
Riding back towards the fairgrounds
from the old Darryl's on the corner of Hboro and Oberlin and my dad
points out the prostitutes waiting around at the corner of
Chamberlain.
My mom works in her salon on Saturday
mornings and dad take my brother and I on his errands to local
hardware stores, etc., and we typically stop for lunch at Char-Grill
beside the old church and eat our Jr Steakburgers on the tailgate of
the truck.
Home from college (ECU) to hang out
with friends still in town... They have decided to do acid, I am the
DD, as I am too scared to try it. We walk up and down Hillsborough,
from the Electric Co Mall to Sadlack's... My friend swears the bricks
are full of water and the sky is full of angels.
A quiet Tuesday morning and no one is
in Cup but me, a few older guys that seem to live here, and my friend
Dawn. Several moments go by with no cars on the road and a lone
tumbleweed rolls down the center of Hboro St.
IHOP on the corner of Ashe at 3am with
an ex-boyfriend... A homeless man comes in and proceeds to drink all
4 tabletop syrups and lies down on the floor beneath the booth and
falls asleep.
Endless hours of Frankenstein pinball
at the Fast Fare or Funhouse pinball at the pizza place beside
Foundation's Edge.
A gutterpunk named Suede tries to sell
us cassette tapes he found in the trash behind Schoolkid's.
My friends have somehow managed to
shimmy their way onto the roof of Cupajoe and are throwing jumping
jacks from the roof and shooting off roman candles.
And now most of these places are gone.
The Comet, The Brewery, Pantana's, to name a few. And now one more to
add to the list... Sadlack's. It is a painful loss, but before the
doors shut, in true hometown honor-system, Raleigh rallied and sent
this quasi-shabby, shitsqualor manor of mayhem and drunken
foolishness off to the great dive bar in the sky in ...er.... well...
style...? A full week (or so) of what I called “Last Call Rock
Shows.” I did my best to show face and throw some more cash in the
till before it was all over.
Sadlack's sat at the corner of
Enterprise and Hillsborough, across from the iconic NCSU Belltower.
In my teens and early 20s Sad's was actually not the place you would
hang out... In fact, I was warned against it by my father.
My crowd were usually at the Comet or Stingray (later on, everyone
migrated to Jackpot and then eventually downtown to
Landmark/Neptunes/Captial Club). Sadlack's throughout the 80's and 90's
had a pretty rough reputation. And before the Great Remodel a few
years back had perhaps the smallest, most terrifying bathrooms I've
ever experienced. Being situated only a block or two from all the
Ghetto-blaster room-for-rent Shrader properties and around the corner
from the blood for cash donation center, the assumption was that
Sadlack's was basically the vortex for all the homeless or
may-as-well-be-homeless gutterpunks and lost souls. The joke goes
that Sad's is where Cup a Joe went after close or that it was the
official AA Meeting afterparty. It wasn't until my friends decided to
quirkily gentrify (sorta kinda) Maiden Lane (and inadvertently,
temporarily all became coke addicts,) did I start half-heartedly
wandering up to hang out on the patio. Then the glorious advent of
Hopscotch and the convenient fact that I had moved into a duplex near
the Rose Garden, within walking distance myself, saw me spending more
and more time with Raleigh's own island of misfit toys.
Now, I know to the untrained eye, (or
those unfamiliar with Karla-speak) you may misconstrue that I am talking
smack about Sadlack's and those that chose to spend their time there
– I'm mostly trying to explain why it took so long for me to warm
up to it. And how once I figured out it was basically, second
only to Cupajoe for me, Homeroom for Underdogs and how I started
aligning myself with them folks. God knows I love an underdog.
The announcement of the closing came so
long ago, so long before I left for Costa Rica in fact, that I had
almost forgotten it was coming. And it wasn't until the last few
weeks, once we officially saw the 3rd-ish incarnation of Schoolkids
close beside it, that reality began to sink in. It was really
happening. Suddenly things started happening... The Raleigh music
scene remembered its rusty roots of afternoon no one shows on the
patio, NCSU alumni who spent their sunny Saturday afternoons came out
to reminisce, and the same old freakshow drunks who'd been there
since the dawn of time were in full force. I made three “official”
stopovers.
Dexter Romweber – 12/22/13
Dex, of Flat Duo Jets fame, started off
with an early solo set around 6pm. I hadn't 100% planned on this
show, but I was in the general vicinity and I was rocking a solo
Sunday Funday and didn't quite feel like wandering down to Landmark,
so I made a detour and I'm glad I did. Dexter played for a bit,
rested a bit and then picked it back up. I saw great friends and got
some serious toe-tapping on. Later I snagged his setlist, which was
actually written on the back of an old power bill, which seemed
almost intrusive but I got his permission to add it to my
ever-increasing setlist collection.
Scores from the past couple weeks in the door of my car. This is getting out of control. kinda.
MARTEEEEEEN!
Kenny Roby & Friends – 12/28/13 (aka The Official Shit-Starts-Gettin'-Rowdy show)
Now this was epic. A Saturday night
show, packed to the gills with who's who of the long standing
Triangle Americana scene and old school Six String Drag fans. This was a two-fisted tallboy show;
a-hootin' and a-hollerin', unexpected covers, surprise special guests
and encore after encore kinda gig. Easily one of the best shows I've seen since
I got back to town. Toe tapping gave way to eventual gratuitous
head-bobbing, morphing seamlessly into full scale dancing, eventually
seeing us dancing on the tables, then ...aw fuckit, down front, in
front of everybody danceparty!!! There was more love and good vibes
on that patio than I have seen in a Raleigh crowd... man, you know, I
almost said “years” but honestly? I think EVER?
Damn the Man
I ARE FAN
Gettin' Goner With It
Yeah, That happened!!
More shows were scheduled after this one, (including the Backsliders on New Year's Eve that I very briefly
stopped in for one last adieu,) but in my heart I knew nothing would
ever come as close to this as sheer live show perfection at Sadlack's
and I wanted it to be my last memory of the place, not the shambles I
knew it would become as the evening wore on and revelers would tear
the place to pieces, nuts and bolts, the way they did on the “first”
last night of Jackpot when folks were walking past Q's place on
Morgan carrying pool sticks and bar stools. My last memory of the
night is watching as some friends lit a Chinese fire lantern loose
and it floated dreamily into the sky.
Three days later, one of my dear friends, Carole, celebrated her
birthday with her husband, friends, and family. Early the next day we learned
the terrible news that Matt, her husband, her truest love and longest friend, our
friend, our love, had passed away tragically, unexpectedly... I had
been, as I tend to do, procrastinating with writing this "tribute to
Sadlack's" post, (perhaps waiting for the flood of other media outlet
articles to fade out,) but in the wake of this devastating news I
knew that the best thing I could do for myself and perhaps for my
friends who are hurting as much as I am for these two people who have
touched so many lives in such a deep and loving way, was to dedicate
this post to them. As with what has been the case with the majority of the posts found in this blog, I sit here holding back tears, spewing catharsis.
Carole has been a deeply important
person in my life for many years, floating in and out like a guardian
angel when I am my deeply saddest and most lost; seemingly knowing
exactly what to say and the right way to say it to pull me out of
wherever it is my soul is trying to retreat. Not to say that I am
some deeply enigmatic and nihilistic soul with no way through my crabby crustacean shell, but the
universe (G-d? Who knows anymore?) has always found a way to set such
transcendental and casually rational souls such as Carole into my path. One
of my fondest memories is a random evening when she and Blinker showed up at Jackpot in full clown regalia after I had just barely
met her and she enveloped me in one of the warmest and best hugs I
can recall in real life, as if she had known and loved me her whole life.
Matt was someone I met when I staarted to meet
Raleigh Kids outside of high school overflow. I had started spending my
time with the notorious Rob Roy and he spent lots of time with this
group of folks that circled around the kids Jenny (Wood!), Chris,
Nancy (Brown!) and Matt, (who we called K-town, as he was from
Kinston). Rob called him his “lawyer” ...Matt once posed as his
attorney to get him out of a traffic ticket ages ago (this may have
been a joke, but we still called him K-Town: Attorney at Law for
years.) Time passed, folks moved on, “cliques” faded, merged,
melted into one... I'd find myself at parties with crews of folks I'd
never pick out of a lineup to know each other. I'd be on Bart's stoop
on Chamberlain with hippies, punks, hipsters, art fags and sorority
girls and I never knew how we all knew each other, but it was there
that K-town came back into my life and Carole became a life-preserver
and one of my soul's strongest advocates.
I am having trouble keeping it together
now, as I am writing this in public and it's not in my best interest
to break down at Cupajoe, so I will end this by saying that not since
losing our dear friend Sean “Old School” Johnson a few years
back, has my soul ached so badly for the loss of a friend. I have no comforting words for
Carole or their family at the moment, (as I am stuck somewhere
between the extreme anger/helpless grief phase myself,) and I don't ask you
for yours. I would just ask that whoever you are, whether or not you
know these two beautiful people, that you take a moment to revel in
their love and feel blessed to know that such people like this
existed on this planet in your lifetime. And if you get a moment,
send a loving burst of hope and comfort to Carole, the kids, and
their family.
Services for Matt will be this Saturday afternoon, the 11th, with a reception to follow at their
home. Feel free to contact me at karlaanne@gmail If you would like to
coordinate carpooling or need directions.
Upon
returning from Costa Rica, I had managed to convince myself that if I
was not meant to be with a certain ex of mine, it was therefore my
destiny to be forever alone; unrequited and justified. Through a
series of notoriously unplanned events, as is my tendency, the
universe felt determined to prove to me once again, no matter how
hard I fight it, I am not in charge. I am ready to accept this for
the time being. (Ask me again in six months, who knows? Another
existential crisis is always imminent!)
SO---
In an effort to take back some pride left on the floorboard of my
soul's undercarriage I spent good deal of time brain picking and
harassing one of my dear friends, Courtney, in an effort to make
sense of the fact that I am 36 years old, still single, and still
somehow convinced of the puppies-and-rainbows version of true love
despite the indelible shitstorms life seems insistent on sending my
way.
Within
one week these things happened:
1)
I reactivated my okcupid profile and edited it within an inch of its
life, up to and including the following blurb:
“A
guy I once went out with told me that my entire profile sounded like
a manifesto for why I didn't want a boyfriend. I wouldn't say that's
true; I prefer to think of this as me formally issuing a challenge
upon the entire male population. Besides... I'd rather have a partner
in crime than a boyfriend, any day.”
2)
this text conversation happened:
Click to embiggen, obvs
3)
I met This Guy, who we will affectionately call "DJ Roadtrip" going forward...
This
is twice now that I have summoned the seemingly perfect man with a“Perfect Dude” list. The last one fucked me up for a long time,
as all of Raleigh and specifically the Landmark Patio Crew can attest
to. Taking a chance on this guy was risky. I hesitantly jumped in
whole-heartedly.
Here
a few of the actual items on the new list (which are absurdly
descriptive of DJ Roadtrip):
-High
fives when something is awesome and doesn't feel embarrassed
-supports
local music, will rally with me through all of hopscotch, has
favorite bands that inspires irrational passion and will dance with
me at shows
-generous
with compliments and tells me I'm pretty a lot
-creative
& thoughtful gift giver / love letter writer
-will
sing karaoke with me
These
are the actual things I have so far observed about DJ Roadtrip:
1)
I am good at the dreaming out loud, this guy is good at putting my
abstract plans into action
2)
As of yet there has not been one situation or suggestion that I have
made that he has not (more or less) said “Why not?” to
3)
As of yet, there has not been one situation or suggestion that he has
made that I have not (more or less) said “Why not?” to
4)
He does what he says he is going to do
5)
He seems to continually one-up me on the spontaneity factor
(completely acceptable)
6)
He seems to continually one-up me on the new music sharing via
YouTube, etc., factor (not sure how this is even possible)
7)
Even his quirks have quirks
8)
In this shortest span of time we have somehow already managed to
cultivate our own language/universe/ecosystem of quirks and the
inability to communicate with anyone outside of our symbiotic system
seems imminent
Conclusion:
The past couple weeks have been a fucking whirlwind of amazingness.
The
beginning: He messaged me via okcupid the most obtuse and bizarre
message I have yet to receive in my online dating career; it was more
an obscure narrative than an intro message. I had to open and close
the thing three times before I knew what to do with it. I eventually
caved and responded. Less than 24 hours later I am sitting at The
Pinhook with him and we're talking so fast over each other that
anyone trying to eavesdrop would have been more than befuddled.
Within the first hour or two of knowing him I realize; He's never met
a stranger, He knows a thing or two about a thing or two, He reeks of
Soul, and most importantly; whatever my tempo – slow and sweet or
wildly staccato, He keeps my pace.
The
evening somehow managed to see us racing from Durham back to Raleigh
to my favorite dive-y karaoke night at Mission Valley Champions where
the fool sang the Dandy Warhols' “Bohemian Like You”... Jesus.
I'm still not sure if I've stopped swooning yet.
Next
night? Want to hang out again? ...Of Course. Dinner and GIGANTIC
drinks at Capital Club, a beer or two at Mecca and then a “Dance
Party” of sorts at Neptune’s.
A Wee Draught at Cap Club!
This is what a typical Dance Party at Nep's consists of, didn't you know?
Night
Three: Chapel Hill.
This
was DJ Roadtrip's email to me:
So
in Chapel Hill tonite, there's nobody playing the Cradle, and shows
at Nightlight and Local 506 that I'm not too excited about.
BUT
- I found one thing that looks pretty interesting, and it's at the
Cave, of all places, and it's the opening band on a three-band bill.
Holy
Crap! You hear “One Man Band” and you think Dick Van Dyke in Mary
Poppins, you think goofy bastards getting in your way at the fair;
you never think Psychobilly delta blues or the lovechild of jack
white and Muddy Waters. There was a brief “costume” change before
his set, just standing to the left of his kick drum, he strips down
to black sweatpants with skeleton bones printed down the leg. A
trucker hat, 80s glasses... Honest to god if you didn't know what to
expect you'd be sure that a big hot mess was about to erupt into your
face. And the really cool thing about that is, that you did get face
explosion – Of kickass danceblues! There was even a song with an
audience participatory dance! Worth every penny of the $5 cover to
the Cave, (which I had not been to since Mark Connor took over the
place). The best part was that my buddy, sweet Emily Jane posted two
days later to her facebook that she had wandered into Slim's and was
watching one of the strangest and best one man bands ever to grace
the stage – and who else could it be but the Caveman!
AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION!!1!1!!
After
the high energy (albeit poorly attended, unfortunately) performance
at the Cave, a folksy one-dude-playing-acoustic guy took the stage
and DJ Roadtrip and I got antsy. He grabbed me by the hand and took me on
random tour of the bar upstairs (DJ Roadtrip interjects here: "Have
you forgotten our romantic visit to the deserted starlit rooftop?")and we wandered back down to the
Cellar and back out the back of The Cave; running into another guy he
knew (He knows EVERYONE! One night we might have to play a game and
keep score? I have hence been informed this was Rob from The Spinns) So here it gets fuzzy (as I am wont to do, when liquor
is involved and I'd decided it was a night of 7&7s...) so either
this random guy reminded us that Demon Eye was playing Nightlight or
I had some burst of cognitive prowess and somehow remembered –
either way, we headed in that direction... He led the way, of course! Also, it stands to be noted that at some point during the show DJ Roadtrip introduced me to one of the former members of the band Archers of Loaf and I fan-girled myself into a full body flush!
Aside:
I
have lived in Raleigh my entire life, more or less. I have been to
Chapel Hill infinite times. However, for whatever reason my mind has
decided to block Chapel Hill entirely from my mind's map. Everyone
has stupid things they are good at, I am notorious for my impeccable
sense of direction. I go anywhere once and I can get to you there
again, and probably with a shortcut. With the sole exception of
Chapel Hill... It's like as soon as I make that first little veer to
the right off 40 onto 54, my whole body tenses up and I go blank. I
have been to Cat's Cradle or 506 approximately 8 billion times but I
swear I couldn't tell you how to get there without an iPhone for the
life of me. My theory on this is that being raised in Raleigh by an
avid NCSU alumni for a dad I was reared with a mental block against
all things UNC. It's either that, or the fact that I had my first
actual panic attack at the Morehead Planetarium when I was 15. either
way, Chapel Hill... It's a big black hole to me, seriously.
So,
as you may know if you're familiar with my writing, this is mostly a
narrative style review blog, so these shows are all basically the
story of the evening with maybe a little bit of info tucked in here
and there... maybe... so the things I have to say about Demon Eye are
mostly personal, of course... Erik Sugg is one of the coolest and
best people I know in real life! Not only is he hellaciously
talented, fronting such bands as Demon Eye, Corvette Summer,
Dragstrip Syndicate, and infinite side projects, but he's a DJ, a
well known and deeply loved Public Librarian and Storyteller, and an
all-around really decently awesome guy. Seeing him and his wife,
Robin, out and about will always make my night! (Not to mention, he's
a regular at my restaurant!) So that bragging aside, one of my very
favorite things about Erik is (as with most things that are my
favorite things) the delicious irony of the fact that he is genuinely
one of the nicest people on the planet and then when he performs, he
sounds like he just graduated top of the class from the Ozzy Osborne
School of Hard Rock... One of my favorite memories is finally
catching a Corvette Summer show after getting to know him from the
restaurant and then watching in awe as his hair went flying! I've
never seen someone rock so hard and make it sound so effortless!
So
yes, in truth, Demon Eye is not typically the kind of music I find
myself chilling out to on my rainy coffee shop afternoons... but their live show is no less than majestic! DJ Roadtrip said I needed to make
sure I posted a link to "this
bloodcurdlingly witchy video" (quoting him) to one of their songs...
Also,
I wanted to make sure I linked to this article from Metal Temple that
calls their new album
"Leave
the Light," a masterpiece!!! The album's official release date
is 1/24/14. the Raleigh CD release show is Saturday, February 1st at
Kingswith
COLOSSUSand
Solar
Halos!
You can safely assume I'll be there and suffering major Metal-neck
the next day!!!
If the Nightlight's a-rockin', you best come a-knockin!
The
1975 & The Neighbourhood: (106.5's
Not-So-Acoustic X-mas), Neighborhood Theater, 12/13/13
So
I haven't had a “guest blogger” in a long time, but seeing as how DJ Roadtrip is an actual "somewhat semi-pro journalist" (quoting him, again!), and he took actual notes from the
show, I'm going to post his review after I give you a little
backstory...
I
discovered The 1975 through Spotify and was instantly in love. Peppy
and Poignant, not unlike The Rapture, the big Pink or Hot Chip, these
young British kids either have a dynamite management team behind them
or they're just chockablock full of raw talent. Their wiki article seems legit, so I'm going with talent... This is probably one of my
favorite albums of the year. So when I heard they were coming
close-ish, I, of course, wanted on board. What I failed to note,
however, was that this show had them teamed up with a top 40 hit band
and was part of a local Charlotte radio station Christmas party... so
the show, by the time I got my shit together enough to make an effort
to make it happen, was long sold out. I put the bug in DJ Roadtrip's ear
and he, being a guy who gets shit done, made some calls and this
happened:
We Be Pressin'
So
we took off on our first official road trip together, officially
capitalizing the “w” in Whirlwind!
First
of all, Priceline hooked us up with an almost 50% off deal at the
Omni in downtown CLT (swanky!) and then we took off to catch up with
the radio folks who had hooked us up with passes and had some pretty
amazing food.
view from our room: A+!!!
Later,
we headed out to the venue. Our passes afforded us VIP balcony seats
and free beers – The show, needless to say, was fantastic. However,
I was not ready for the fact that apparently both the 1975 and The
Neighbourhood are tween hipster idols... the majority of the show was
sporting black Xs across their hands (to which I walked in a few
different times to the bathroom to girls scrubbing away furiously at
their paws). The girly screams from the audience almost drowned out
the bands, as their was literally no speakers or monitors on the
balcony, our entire sound was coming from far below on the stage (an
old venue, I guess. Oh well - Beggars can't be choosers!)
The show still sounded great, I love
The 1975 and am really looking forward to their show at the Cat's
Cradle in May 2014 and The Neighbourhood was pretty cool, even though
I really only knew the one song that gets played on G105 like twice
an hour. I did get the set list, which was utterly delightful!
"Sweadoo Weathoo"??! get outta here... too cute!
And
here's what DJ Roadtrip had to say about our adventure:
The
show ended, and a dance party erupted in the art gallery corner of
the Neighborhood Theater, in the heart of Charlotte's NoDa district.
Earlier in the night, the line for the ladies' room was so long
it had stretched out almost into this space, which was right by the
front entrance. Maybe because The 1975 was making a lot of
panties wet. Judging by the screams that greeted their every
move. And The Neighbourhood, too. It was out of control.
They had big monitors that showed people's live tweets about
the concert, and women were tweeting stuff like, "Let me take
you to brunch tomorrow," and "Can I come take my shoes off
in your van?". Perhaps their hearts were touched by
that song Girls off their debut album.
We
had met a couple sitting near the front of the venue right before The
Neighbourhood came on, Jamie and her friend Sebastian, who was from
Chile. Jamie said that unlike most of the women we'd met so
far, who were mostly into The 1975, she was a big Neighbourhood fan,
and had dragged Sebastian along with her. "I listen to the
radio station a lot," she said, "and I heard about the show
right when they announced it, so I bought tickets." Good
thing for her, because that shit sold out in four days flat. After The Neighbourhood's set, Jamie was pumped. "They were
awesome!" she said. "Now you know why I like them so
much."
Anyway,
we left the after-show dance party in search of another dance party.
Which may have been at another NoDa spot called Growler's, but
we never found that place. Because we got distracted by a
padlocked joint that looked like a barn, the Rat's Nest. Along
the way, we ran into Jessica Hernandez and her band the Deltas, on
tour out of Detroit. They were playing down the street that
night at the Evening Muse, fresh off a stop in Chapel Hill at Local
506 the night before, and heading to Baltimore the following night.
Jessica and all her bandmates were very cool, and there's a
trombonist on board! He was a big Fred Wesley fan.
We
wound up at Jack Beagle's, which was reco'd to us by Lee and his
longtime girlfriend Kirsten. Lee told us that on Wednesdays, a
blues guitarist in his mid-20s named Skinny Velvet usually plays. "When he performs," said Lee, "he entertains
the crowd with his whole body." Lee also claimed we'd find
a dance party there, but no dice. In fact, the night's band had
just finished playing when we rolled up. Although we
immediately met all the members of the Sore Cocks, the greatest QOTSA tribute band that never was. And "Comfortably Numb"
came on the sound system. The smells coming out of the kitchen
were intoxicating, and we found a table and ordered some incredibly
tasty late night food.
Then
we had time to catch our breath and properly reflect on the night's
events.
Unlike
Jamie, the three co-eds from Atlanta who I talked with were all
smitten with The 1975. Hannah, Caitlyn, and Catherine said
they'd been "glued to the internet" watching 106.5's
website, waiting for this show to be announced. After The 1975
finished their set, they got to meet singer/guitarist Matt Healey,
who gave them one of his picks.
They
were so psyched they were bouncing up and down. And when I met
them they were switching outfits for The Neighbourhood's set.
Because really, it's not a rock show unless you can change
costumes in the hallway.
A
couple more really good songs came on at Jack Beagle's - Cold Hard Bitch by Jet, and Private Eyes, a lil' blue-eyed soul courtesy of
Hall & Oates. We decided they serve the best waffle fries
on the planet. "Chik-fil-A's wishes they had waffle fries
like these," said Karla. "Ones not seasoned with
homophobia." You tell it, girl! Then they suddenly cut off
Life In The Fast Lane. Because whoever was in charge of the
satellite feed decided that the far better track was Rivers (Of the
Hidden Funk). Co-written by Don Felder and Joe Walsh, and a
failed contender for inclusion on The Long Run, but resurrected for
There Goes The Neighborhood, Joe's solo album from 1981.
DJ Roadtrip ponders the universe and continues:
The
night before, we had met Chris from Corpse Mountain as he was loading
out. They opened for Demon Eye at Nightlight in Chapel Hill,
but we missed their set. Chris implied they sound like a
mountain of corpses all screaming at once, which would be pretty
epic.
Earlier
that afternoon at the Heist Brewery, after we missed the acoustic set
that The 1975 played a few hours before the concert, we were telling
Andrew our server about Demon Eye. And he turned us on to
Deathlehem. They perform in full medieval armor, slaying their
audiences with GWAR-style sludge metal. Later, at the
Neighborhood Theater, we saw a painting of Deathlehem's disciples at the Heavy Metal Last Supper.
The
next day, on the drive back from Charlotte, Karla asked me with a
straight face, "Did you know that Humpty once got busy?" I
shook my head in disbelief. "Yeah," she said, "in
a Burger King bathroom." A little while later, we listened
to Tommy Roe keepin' things Dizzy. Karla makes the best
roadtrip playlists I have ever heard, no joke about that.
Anyway,
Lee and his girlfriend Kirsten had been looking at the
Deathlehem-esque painting with us. And later, at Jack Beagle's,
we ran into them again, out on the incredible patio that was kept
warm with industrial sized heaters, big pipes with heat pouring out
of 'em, burning the whole place up even though it was 40 degrees
outside.
At
the concert, we talked with a lot of the folks who worked at the
Neighborhood Theater, including Daniel, who was holding things down
at the door, and Chelsea, who tried to get us backstage so Karla
could take some closeups of the band. When that didn't work
out, she kept us and the rest of the balcony supplied with very tasty
hefeweizens from another nearby NoDa brewery. There's a lot of
breweries around there! Like we heard Woody from 106.5 say on
the radio as we were heading back to our hotel, use that brand new
app that all the kids with twenty bucks to burn are using to call
yourself a cab if you've been hanging out late night in NoDa,
especially if you've been sampling DZL's new double IPA at the Heist
Brewery, which will kick your ass. Gratuitous product placement
plug, but I thought it was pretty delicious.
Overall,
it was a fun show, and a good time was had by all. Especially
the dude I saw exiting the men's room during The Neighbourhood's last
song with a lady on each arm. The female pheromones unleashed
at this event were truly a force of nature!
So with Charlotte officially conquered, we toddled back to town in a total downpour and like any proper
whirlwind, there was an aftermath... a cold so severe it turned into bronchitis that knocked me on my back for almost an entire week...
I'm just now starting to peel myself from the couch. The deliciously
ironic end to the story is that DJ Roadtrip had to pick up a day or so
later to leave for up north where his family resides until mid
January or so, but not before he accompanied me to Landmark's annual
Christmas party...
I pity the fool who don't respect the patio!
It
was a perfect crescendo to perfect whirlwind. So the question
remains, will the storm continue in January or will those few perfect
days remain a memorial to my stubbornly high ideals of love and
partner-in-crimedom? ...Only time will tell!
Until
then, I remain, your ever faithful eternal optimist and live music
junky.
.JPG)
