Rainy Day Activities Also Include Silent Ball

Starscream let me watch them make their new shirts. Starscream is awesome.

(Other information: This is my film school boredom coming out again. Of course, why would I get a video camera, or a new-fangled camera that shoots video when i can just waste time making gadgets like this? It's not like such cameras are plentiful or anything. Still, I think this is cool. I suck).

Don't Fuck With My Play

Shapes, Personality Crisis 8, 8/20/09

I actually don't know much about Shapes, except that they have a pretty loyal following and are out there playing almost every weekend (it seems). The second fact usually leads to the first, obviously. Fanelli, the lead Shape, has a pretty significant cult-following as well. They are also more hardcore than you would expect from someone so obviously glammed out. That's not a judgement. How's that for a boring write-up? Fuck, I never said the content on this blog would always be good or particularly enlightening. Fuck. Someone help me out here.

This group of photos also has shots of all the Little Angels, including sterling images of Devin threatening boys with his powerful sexuality. Examine, and feel your groin tremble.

I Heard You Missed Us; We're Back

Devin & The Li'l Angels, Don Hill's, 8/18/09

I was going to neaten up two days of band deaths with a band birth in Devin & The Little Angels, a supergroup made up of Earth Defense Force and Jack Ferencz from TMH fronted by Devin Therriault, the howlin'est, swingin'est wolf I've met. Of course, this particular show was missing Jack and, well, they only played three or four shows in this incarnation -- Ian Cory is in Chicago, Jack F. is upstate, Sam is upperstate and Jonathan Betz is [scene missing]. Therefore, Devin needs a new band.

The result is the new incarnation of D&TLA starring Devin and a couple of guys I haven't met yet. They exist on MySpace here and wouldn'tcha know they're playing tomorrow at the Yippie Cafe. I think it's free -- a fair deal for memories that will last you a lifetime.

A quickie note about the picture -- Sam is the best guitar player for a photographer imaginable, and his knowledge of rock histrionics is vast and demonstrated often. Two observations,

1) Sam jumps no more than six times per show. Live your life and time your film count accordingly.

2) Sam has no (0) hang time. You know what they say about drinking slowing reaction time*? Monitor your drinking intake accordingly.

*"They say..."? It's science, bro.

Enjoy Them Old Man. They Will Be Your Last

Ron Wax (Last NYC Show), Don Pedro's, 8/3/09

Two weeks after The Handful left us, Ron Wax bolted for Nebraska. Ain't got no money to pay the bills, you see. As a performer, Ron was one of the strangest, most charismatic acts I have ever seen and he wasn't seen often enough or by enough people. Before he left, we agreed to trade an envelope full of my prints for a silkscreen he had done and a poster he made for his show with The Hydes at Don Pedro's.

Ron had no phone at home and no cellular so he called me from a pay phone* and told me he had nothing to do and asked if we could make the handoff. He came to my house to deliver the things and he commented on a few of my vanity prints I have hanging on my wall -- He had been to Santa Barbara with Mercy Rule and cut a rattle off a dead rattlesnake he found in Mission Canyon. He told me about the time Mercy Rule supported Sleater-Kinney when they passed through Nebraska in the 90's. We shook hands and he rode off on his bike into the night.

He told me he would be back. I have no reason to doubt this. Ron is a gentleman hobo. He might also be a spirit, or something more complex -- the fifth-state of matter. Say his name three times and he appears.

*Make sure you read that last sentence closely. How many times in the last 20 years have you had a call from a pay phone? Seriously. Ron Wax is advanced.

Goodbye Bozos

The Mighty Handful (Final Show), Shea Stadium, 7/25/09

They always played best when they didn't care about putting on a show. By the time the end had come their act was a known commodity and everyone knew what to expect, and so did they. The set list was basically the same as the last four shows and they ended with Uptown Drunks, which is still my favorite song of 2008 (Paper Planes is #2). Some people were crying because something so insignificant in the grand scheme can still have meaning. We were all young and beautiful once, and now we are old and tired and have other things to do. Toil. Death. When the house cut the PA, it faded up Born to Run, which seemed appropriate.

Somewhere in this anecdote is a comment on the changing of the seasons and the coming of autumn and then winter and then spring, when things begin again.

Earlier in the night there was an older guy floating around who looked like a NARC. He was taking pictures, but it was strange because no one had seen him before; no one wanted to engage with him because he looked like a NARC. As it turns out he was shooting for Paper Magazine for an article about Shea Stadium, which is all fine and dandy except he left before the main event. He couldn't have known.

The lead picture that accompanied the article ended up being a static shot of Museyroom, and there were a few shots of kids milling about and drinking or smoking. In one picture, Rich Toledo is sitting against the wall, alone, tired. He is wearing one of the twenty or so Mighty Handful shirts that were made by hand and sold before the first 741 show. I know it's Rich because I recognize him and I know the shirt he is wearing because he wore it to every Handful show. From the picture in the magazine, however, he's just some kid in a messy shirt.

Somewhere in this anecdote is a comment on defeat being snatched from the jaws of victory or the randomness of opportunity or how fleeting things can be.