The City Veins

Many things could be written or said about our show at Rebel NYC on Friday. I’m going to try to summarize the night as quickly as possible, because quite a bit happened in a very short period of time.

Charles and I drove up on Thursday night and made it in 5 hours, which is great. We stayed at his aunt’s place on Mercer, much better than where I have stayed on previous NYC trips. Charles and I went to a shitty NY bar and I drank cider while reading the Village Voice.

The next day, Charles and I found an awesome little Hummus place on MacDougal. It was good.

Initially, we were not too excited about the show. The guys in Lights Resolve have been very good to us over the last few months, and we to them as well. I understand why they wanted an earlier show, but that was going to result in us starting a short set at 7:15. We are a bit older than them, and our fans/friends are all part of the working world, so an early show shuts out a good number of the people who would come see us. Having said that, we appreciate that many people made an effort to get out to the gig despite its happy hour-like start-time.

The show ended up a success for a good many reasons. We played very well. Light Resolve packed the place. The stage was very high and quite spacious for a venue that does not cater specifically to rock bands. And we were harassed after we played, which I think means we did well. More people stepped up to talk to us after this show than any other, and many of those people were quite aggressive. There was just a really positive energy in the crowd, which was great.

Afterwards, Charles and I bolted to our favorite little midnight diner in the Meatpacking district, Florent. That is by far the least heterosexual and snooty thing I have ever said, but it is a fact. We used to go to this place all the time with our last band and, aside from when Charles was once propositioned for sex outside the diner, we have fond memories. The food is good and cheap, a rare New York feat.

Now my one rant about NYC: Everyone in New York claims to know some big-whig mogul who can make or break a band. Furthermore, those people want to argue that because their uncle/dog/grandmother owns Sony you must impress them or your career is over. I met some very nice people on Friday that wanted to impress me with how important their acquaintances were, and maybe they figure it’s an easy sell because we’re naive asses from outside NYC, likely to believe any sweet words thrown at us. That may have worked when I was 18, or even 22. But I don’t care about that stuff now, and no one really does. To those who think they can make or break a band: you cannot. Your day may not be done, but bands are no longer going to cower before you. Why would they? You don’t get them any money anyways. Just your funny paper.

Photos by Sean O’Kane.