yellow rrroses

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I actually went out last night--it'd been too long since I'd braved the agora. L. & I went to see American Splendor, about which I wasn't nearly as over-the-moon as other people I know who've seen it--maybe, I think, because I've been reading the comic for a long time, so recognized immediately which parts were lifted verbatim from it, which were fiction for the sake of the movie, etc. It's a weird feeling to understand that I'd enjoy something more if I didn't get the inside references. I would have liked to have seen the real Mr. Boats, too.

We headed downtown afterwards to see Fly Ashtray's first show in 9 months or so, and first with their new drummer. It was at a club called the Orange Bear, down on Murray Street--I have vague memories of having seen the Soul Providers at an earlier incarnation of it. At the moment, though, it has the single worst mural I've ever seen on its wall: ill-designed bulbous Matisse/Picasso-style nudes (at least one of whom is extending a leg into the air that the artist doesn't seem to have bothered finishing painting, so it looks like one of those liquid-filled hollow glass legs or a lava lamp) and stripy cartoon animals cavorting (and occasionally paired up doggy-style) in a half-baked forest landscape with a couple of little pools and buildings in it. Somebody actualy thought it was a good idea. Somebody actually spent a considerable amount of time executing it. Remarkable.

Anyway: Fly Ashtray were fab as ever--a little nervous, curiously. A few new songs, a lot of old reliable standards ("Vulcan Jones," "President Stoned," two of the "Ignells" sequence), a couple of things from the Crate period. Interesting that they're now playing two of Mike Anzalone's songs, "Green Fibre" and "Ostrich Atmosphere," given that he left the band something like 12 years ago... I think they've decided that "Ostrich Atmosphere" is their big garage-rock hit. Which it really should have been, so fair enough.

Stopped in afterwards at No. Moore to see Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. I love that band (and especially love Sharon Jones's voice--so Vicki Anderson!--and stage presence), but I'm starting to hate their fans. Especially the tall gangly guy she chose to dance with during one song who started humping her hip. Sugarman 3 with Lee Fields followed them, and we saw a couple of songs, but we were fading badly by that point.

Incidentally, if you've recently gotten one of those godawful s**m messages from an address at lacunae--well, somebody seems to have sent out about a zillion of them to seemingly randomly generated address, and I'm getting all the bounces, and I'm very unhappy about it. The headers suggest that they're coming from Switzerland and/or Finland. (And if you are the person who is sending them, or who is posting them to the comments section of lacunae, please know that my revenge will be slow and terrible when, not if, I find you.)

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This page contains a single entry by Douglas published on September 27, 2003 10:55 AM.

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