Everyone's 1,000-word papers explaining what the hell they just saw is due on my desk this Saturday night at 8pm. My desk
is metaphysical, really; it's the black box aka second stage at The Comedy Spot in the Ballston Commons Mall. Come out and
we'll make sure you get a coupon for half off the admission (as in, you pay $7 apiece if you and a friend or random stranger
go in together. Just print this flyer out and present it at the door).
This weekend I had the good fortune of experiencing one of the best shows I've ever been to. For the sake of immediacy, I'll
narrow it down to one of the best three shows I've ever seen. I'll lead this mini-list off with it, even. Dan Deacon. The
guy fucking rules, and every single of his shows is a damn near historic event. He nudges his way into the company of the
Twilight Singers (at the 9:30 Club) and They Might Be Giants (at Water Street Music Hall in Rochester, NY) as the best live
acts I've ever seen.
In the interest of holding peoples' attention, here are the three scraping the bottom of my barrel. In no particular order.
THE BAND SALIVA
You know, I'm all about people succumbing to their own tastes and sensibilities. I like A New Found Glory while acknowledging
the fact that they aren't too great. Saliva are the one band I've seen live that I always feel the need to explain when it
comes out into the open. I was with my girlfriend at the time and her Boston friends at the WBCN River Rave in 2003. It was
an ampitheater and we jumped into a section of seat they'd just opened up so we could see Jane's Addiction and the evening's
headliners Dropkick Murphy's. What we didn't realize was that we couldn't abandon our seats and had to endure about thirty
minutes of quite possibly the worst band conceivable. Saliva simply transcend shit. Josey Scott cannot have a soul. Not only
did he interrupt his own juvenile lyrics to scream "WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, BOSTON??" no less than fourteen times in the first
three jumbles of PRS-bred power chords and groaning they considered songs, but he even went out of his way to berate the Dixie
Chicks for speaking out against Bush. What an asshole! Your biggest hit song is named after a string of ononmatopoeia!! Stop
living! No, please, I'm begging you. You and Chad Kroeger shared the first Spiderman soundtrack to wipe your asses with, and
now you're expecting a crowd full of kids who just watched Beck and are waiting for Jack Johnson to respect you as an artist?
What the hell is wrong with you? And cut your hair. You're not Kim Thayil and never will be. I hope your CD's have fun cruising
across the cutout bins of Jesus' America. You piece of shit.
LOST CITY ANGELS
I saw them open for two astronomically superior punk bands, Sick of It All and Pennywise back in 2005. I remember seeing Lost
City Angels when I was in college. They played a handful of shows with Catch-22. Apparently their pinup guitarist was dating
a girl who lived in my building my sophomore year in college. Anyway, their singer Ron Ragona went from a bowling shirt wearing,
smiling ska singer in Spring Heeled Jack to this: in a strange span of a few years. I don't think even the greatest singer could redeem this band. Every time I've seen them,
their music has been one massive mess and they haven't played a single note that [insert respectable punk band here] haven't
done better innumerable times in the fairly distant past. I don't know how bands like this keep trucking. They must really,
really believe in what they do. Or keep getting breaks of some sort. Maybe they'll polish themselves and surprise us one day.
Until then, drop your guitars and listen to some Botch or something.
SALIVA, AGAIN
Seriously, this band is the flagship of many that make me want to go back in time and punch the old delta bluesmen in the
face for inventing rock n' roll. I think New Jersey has at least 11 bar bands better than Saliva. Have you ever seen a NJ
bar band? Well, neither have I, but there was this one I saw an ad for called BITTER X. "Oh, man, these guys are surely articulating
an everyday struggle to which I can relate on a nightly basis as far away as exit 11." You know how you're imagining them
looking? They look EXACTLY like that.
JIM BREUER & SOME DUDE
Moving on, I think that formative experience for any standup comedy career is seeing what you're aiming not to be. I had never
even tried standup when I went to see Jim Breuer of Saturday Night Live fame do a show at Syracuse. He sucked. I never thought
he was horribly funny on SNL, and I thought even less of him when I realized he wasn't any deeper than his intricate characters
like Goat Boy and that annoying dipshit in "Half-Baked." He had one joke about Metallica that was borderline funny. He told
one 7-minute long story about Joe Pesci meeting him that went nowhere. The world can be a cruel, cruel place sometimes. It
allows people who can make silly noises and faces to attain notoriety as long as they can purport enough charm. (I call this
"Owen Wilson Complex".) I don't remember the guy who was touring with him, but for argument's sake, I'll call him Mr. Hey
Arab People Are Crazy, What is that, Soft Serv on your Head? FART I'm so fucking cool!
There was a video of someone getting straight up assaulted onstage because he refused to back down after using the term "towelhead."
It may have been Mr. Hey Arab People Are Crazy, What is that, Soft Serv on your Head? FART I'm so fucking cool! in that video.
All I know is that it was the first bitter wedge in the dense tapestry that is my outlook on our society today.
You know, I'm all about people succumbing to their own tastes and sensibilities. I like A New Found Glory while acknowledging
the fact that they aren't too great. Saliva are the one band I've seen live that I always feel the need to explain when it
comes out into the open. I was with my girlfriend at the time and her Boston friends at the WBCN River Rave in 2003. It was
an ampitheater and we jumped into a section of seat they'd just opened up so we could see Jane's Addiction and the evening's
headliners Dropkick Murphy's. What we didn't realize was that we couldn't abandon our seats and had to endure about thirty
minutes of quite possibly the worst band conceivable. Saliva simply transcend shit. Josey Scott cannot have a soul. Not only
did he interrupt his own juvenile lyrics to scream "WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, BOSTON??" no less than fourteen times in the first
three jumbles of PRS-bred power chords and groaning they considered songs, but he even went out of his way to berate the Dixie
Chicks for speaking out against Bush. What an asshole! Your biggest hit song is named after a string of ononmatopoeia!! Stop
living! No, please, I'm begging you. You and Chad Kroeger shared the first Spiderman soundtrack to wipe your asses with, and
now you're expecting a crowd full of kids who just watched Beck and are waiting for Jack Johnson to respect you as an artist?
What the hell is wrong with you? And cut your hair. You're not Kim Thayil and never will be. I hope your CD's have fun cruising
across the cutout bins of Jesus' America. You piece of shit.
in a strange span of a few years. I don't think even the greatest singer could redeem this band. Every time I've seen them,
their music has been one massive mess and they haven't played a single note that [insert respectable punk band here] haven't
done better innumerable times in the fairly distant past. I don't know how bands like this keep trucking. They must really,
really believe in what they do. Or keep getting breaks of some sort. Maybe they'll polish themselves and surprise us one day.
Until then, drop your guitars and listen to some Botch or something.
Moving on, I think that formative experience for any standup comedy career is seeing what you're aiming not to be. I had never
even tried standup when I went to see Jim Breuer of Saturday Night Live fame do a show at Syracuse. He sucked. I never thought
he was horribly funny on SNL, and I thought even less of him when I realized he wasn't any deeper than his intricate characters
like Goat Boy and that annoying dipshit in "Half-Baked." He had one joke about Metallica that was borderline funny. He told
one 7-minute long story about Joe Pesci meeting him that went nowhere. The world can be a cruel, cruel place sometimes. It
allows people who can make silly noises and faces to attain notoriety as long as they can purport enough charm. (I call this
"Owen Wilson Complex".) I don't remember the guy who was touring with him, but for argument's sake, I'll call him Mr. Hey
Arab People Are Crazy, What is that, Soft Serv on your Head? FART I'm so fucking cool!
