[kj] New York Report!

[Mike]

Good evening all!!!!
 I must say Alex nailed the evening to a tee.Alex,Colsey,Dirk,Yosef,and Todd
you boys are cool thanks for the warm greeting,As a long time KJ fan,first
time seeing them fan ,the show was everything i thought it would be
FANFUCKINTASTASTIC. I had the privlidge (SP) to head upstairs and check out
the show from the vip area where I got to meet Jaz while Fever was on,
1 down to earth nice guy,even got a hug from him.,and to fill ya in on the
wholle raven thing,,seems that he was a lil upset with the slight the vhs or
beta gave KJ.
Seems those boys said to stay tuned that a great band was coming up and the
next words outa there mouth was "MY MORNING JACKET"..... WRONG THING
TO SAY. being that at that point it was a sea of loyal KJ fans Gathering to
see them next. So raven leaned over the balcony and gave them the old 1
finger salute with a wave off and off he went into the Green room.Quick
notes: funny memory of night for me. looking down and seeing Alex and Yosef
simultaneously bouncing there head in unison to CHANGE,, would even swear
they had there arms around each other ;)... thanks again fellas hope to
catch up with yas again soon.

                                                         New Guy Mike


 ---- Original Message -----
From: "Pat Tofield" <tofield@barak-online.net>
To: <gathering@misera.net>
Sent: Thursday, October 23, 2003 11:02 PM
Subject: RE: [kj] New York Report!


> Alex....fantastic report...
>
> ....halfway through......
>
>
> ...just ordering some food for the next stage......
>
>
>
> LOL....Pat
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: gathering-admin@misera.net [mailto:gathering-admin@misera.net] On
> Behalf Of Alex Smith
> Sent: Thursday, October 23, 2003 9:42 AM
> To: gathering@misera.net; gathering@misera.net; gathering@misera.net
> Subject: [kj] New York Report!
>
>
> God Bless Chock Full'o'Nuts Coffee, by gosh.
>
> Incidentally, those of you looking for strictly gig details and a
> set-list
> are going to have to earn it, or wait for a less flowerly and
> self-serving
> report from someone else.
>
> Right. First comes the apologies. There is a troubled, private, roiling
> rubicon of near-pantsless drunkenness that I have been handily known to
> happily cross on many an occaission, whereupon after which I am
> churlishly
> renowned for expressing my outbursts of good will and bonhommie via
> striking
> various compadres on the shoulder, solarplexus, nape and/or sternum
> harder
> than they'd necessarily prefer, let alone expect. Suffice it to say,
> this
> point was swiftly passed in the very early hours of this morning, and if
> Tale-tellin' Todd "Fluw" Wulfemeyer, Yosef "excitable" Exorcist,
> Teutonic
> Dynamo Dirk, Sir Michael "Don't Call Me Claude Rains" Coles, veritably
> bulky
> brick shithouse "New Guy" Mike and/or Ted "ask me another Prong question
> and
> you're going head first into the toilet" Parsons wanted to beat the
> snots
> outta me in due course for it, I wouldn't hold it against them. Still,
> could've been worse, right? At least my pants stayed on, right? (please
> tell
> me they did, fellas). All's well that ends...well, nevermind.
>
> To quote Cat "Death to the Infadels" Stevens, morning has fucking
> broken.
>
> Wow. Quite an evening. At around 4:30 pm, after putting on my needlessly
> silly spikey belt and blow-drying my hair just so, I bounded out the
> door to
> the now-fabled (well, not realy) Central Bar wherein I met....well, no
> one
> at first (though that didn't stop me from bellying up to the bar and
> igniting proceedings with a bang in the form of a pint of Yuengling, the
> first of way too many). In short order (though not in short stature),
> the
> estimable artisan we all know and manfully adore as Mike Coles arrived
> (in
> stylish leather coat, replete with "Laugh at Your Peril" badge) to -- as
> loathesome pop harpee P!nk might've said -- get this party started.
> After a
> bit, whilst the stoically sage-like Coles regailed me with yarns of olde
> involving the protoplasmic origins of Malicious Damge like a learned
> druid
> schooling a wide-eyed peasant lad, in walked three leggy ladies who
> extended
> a lithe, seductive didjit at my red MALICIOUS DAMAGE CLOCK shirt.
> "Alex?"
> asked the brunette. Turns out that this was big Cliff's wife, sister and
> sister's friend, all looking very sexy and tatooed and post-punk and all
> that. Suddenly, it was a genuine...er...gathering.
>
> Shortly afterwards, in walked the Hamburgian force of supernature that
> is
> Dirk K. and his trusty sidekick Tim (himself also sporting the red
> Malicious
> Damage clock shirt), and out went the girls (not as a result, mind you,
> but
> for the purposes of going home, changing and showering). Reduced again
> to a
> quartet of males, our little pirate ship settled in for more beers
> (Coles
> drinking Corona, the rest of us opting for Yuengling at my dubious
> suggestion). For those that give a toss, Devilish Dirk came swaddled in
> the
> now-ancient Gathering t-shirt, rocking it "old school" as the bretheren
> of
> the hip hop community might say (though, he was quick to point out, he
> sported an Extremities t-shirt underneath). Why Dirk saw fit to wear two
> t-shirts when one would've handily sufficed still eludes my
> comprehension.
>
> After ordering some man-sized plates of charred animal flesh, loving
> adorned
> with cheese and chips, the garishly-painted doors of this fine
> establishment
> swung wide yet again, and in strutted Todd "Fluw" Wulfemeyer, straight
> from
> the mean, blood-splattered streets of Albany (our fine state's capital
> city,
> for those of you keen on that sort of trivia). Bravely sporting the
> eye-catching and temper-tempting "drowning Liberty" t-shirt, his
> Fluwness
> gamely ordered himself a plate of "bangers'n'mash" (how Brit of him) and
> a
> pint of Guiness and mucked right in. Having heard that the Exorcist,
> red-headed Robyn and various other folk were going to be late and would
> try
> to find us at the venue, it seemed our little gang of avengers was now
> fully
> assembled.
>
> We'd heard initial reports that the band themselves (or at least Raven)
> might come and find us at the Central Bar, but those rumours revealed
> themselves to be sadly unfounded. After shovelling down our grub and
> hoisting a few more frothy beverages, we decided to ship out, leaving
> the
> comfy confines of the Central Bar (and inexplicably repeated airings of
> "Roundabout" by Yes on the soundsystem) behind us. Two city blocks and
> one
> corner later, brightly lit marquee of Webster Hall came into full
> view....as
> well as the rather worrying sight of a big line-up (or "que" as you
> Brits
> might say). Dutifully taking our place at the back of it (much to our
> collective grumbling), our little brood of scowling Gatherers spied the
> crowd for any familiar faces. None found, but I spotted (and rather
> brazenly
> accosted) a rather large looking gent sporting the CONFIRM YOUR WORST
> FEARS/Central Point shirt, which I immediately pointed out to
> said-shirt's
> designer, Mike Coles. Turns out this big dude's name was John, and he
> did
> indeed procure that handsome garment through the Mal.Dam site, though he
> seemed to scoff at the notion that Mike Coles actually remembered the
> order.
> Why would we lie?
>
> In due course, we ticket holders were allowed to jump the line (whilst
> the
> indie-rock loving, CMJ-badge-holding hordes in their ironic cardigans,
> sensible shoes and trucker caps) were left to wait in the damp. Fluw,
> meanwile, vanished for a bit to prize his ticket from the wilcall line.
> In
> we went.
>
> Back in the day, Webster Hall was formerlly known as the Ritz and played
> host to every great band worth a damn in the 80s, the Joke included.
> Sometime around 1989, however, the owners of the Ritz pulled out of the
> operation and the venue morphed into Webster Hall, a niteclub in the
> same
> style as the then-hip Palladium and once-prominent Danceteria. I hand't
> been
> in the great room's interior since about 1994 when Redd Kross played
> (live
> music is a scarcity at Webster Hall, let alone decent live music). The
> main
> floor we shuffled into looked a bit like a high school prom, complete
> with
> dangling disco ball. We gawked around in a state of bemusement, ordering
> ourselves another round of beers (fuckin' SEVEN DOLLARS for a bottle of
> shitty Budweiser!!?!?!?!?) and looked around for other Jokers. Fluw
> reappeared and we all repaired to the side bar for a bit.
>
> Finding precious little excitment at said side bar, we ambled upstairs
> to
> take a gander at the crowd and see the stage. Once assembled, as if on
> cue,
> the lights dimmed and out strode a hirsute quintet of irritating hepcats
> who
> apparently call themselves The Fever, who proceeded to launch into a
> headache-inducing racket that couldn't have been more retrophillically
> derivative if earnest attempted. After giving them a brief sporting
> chance
> (much to our furrowed-brows, shaking heads and expressions of abject
> disdain), we collectively decided to spare our hearing and repair back
> downstairs.
>
> More beers followed. Dirk's buddy Tim found himself an easy chair near
> the
> television and settled in to soak up some baseball. The rest of us
> chatted
> amiably with a variety of CMJ characters. After a spell, in walked Yosef
> (i
> believe I'm spelling that correctly), otherwise known as The Exorcist
> (why
> he calls himself this, I do not know, but suffice it to say he was not
> wearing a priest's collar nor, to my knowledge, in possession of any
> holy
> water). I wandered about looking for other Gatherers. We spotted Cliff,
> himself toiling under the crack of Killing Joke's roadie whip, along
> with
> the drum tech from New Zealand, who looks like he could easily slit one
> up
> and down with a bowie knife before you could say "Picnic at Hanging
> Rock".
> Chatted with them briefly before they were summoned back to the trenchs.
> I
> wobbled over to a little table in the back of the room where I'd spotted
> Bob
> Mould (shorn of hair and in suprisingly fit shape) and expressed my
> admiration, however somewhat insincerely. Never one to miss a
> promotional
> opportunity, he slipped a BLOWOFF flyer in my hand (his new electronic
> project) which I then proceeded to discard almost immediately upon
> leaving
> the room. Sorry, Bob.
>
> Time passed. In my further wanderings, I was met by "New Guy Mike" and a
> lurker who disquietingly announced my name in a somewhat sinister tone
> named
> Adam (I think). The merch table was hawking the clown shirts, a bag of
> Colesy badges and a new, heretofore unspotted design dubbed "Stone Face"
> (basically a pic of Jaz's face taken from the "Seeing Red" video, not at
> all
> unlike the homemade design Mik Raven posted some time ago). Like the
> dutiful
> fanboy, I bought one (treating the unsuspecting hordes to a thoroughly
> unsolicited viewing of my bare, pasty, pale torso as I slipped it on
> under
> the read MAL.DAM clock shirt) By around 10:30, we figured it would be
> prudent to secure a spot up by the stage, just in time to catch a set by
> the
> band VHS or Beta (and, honestly, can you think of a sillier name for a
> band?)
>
> VHS or Beta basically play a discoey approximation of Gang of Four and
> sport
> hairstyles that recall a Small Faces-era Ron Wood. I didn't think they
> were
> entirely terrible (I think Coles tolerated them as well), but needless
> to
> say....they're no Killing Joke.
>
> Done with that rabble, the bunch of us ploughed through the human cattle
> to
> the front (myself pushing aside a comely wench at the barricade, almost
> immediately lapsing into apologies for my boorish behavior, which she
> seemed
> to buy). That mission accomplished, in very short order, the lights
> dimmed
> again and....hello, what's this? KILLING JOKE TAKE THE STAGE!!!!!!!!!
> Raven
> strides right up to the front of the stage, greeting we the grinning
> faithful.
>
>
> Honestly speaking? It's all a manic fucking blur. Jaz in now familiar
> Peruvian spider get-up and bug-eyed visage of impending doom, Raven in
> camo
> shorts, POLIZEI t-shirt, warpaint and signature wool cap, Geordie in
> kneepadded "interesting pants" and unbothered expression of coolster
> insouciance, Parsons a bald-head machine of stick-flailing death. On the
> keybs was a fresh-faced gent named Nick, looking quite the youngster but
> handling his duties with aplomb. Rookie roadie Cliff sat aside the stage
> in
> the ready position, often dutifully scampering about like a ball-boy at
> Wimbledon. Some technical problems blighted the early bits of the set,
> but I
> honestly didn't notice (as I was entirely busy trying to shove the
> metal,
> cattle-hurding barricades THROUGH THE FUCKING STAGE in a state of
> Joke-fueled apoplexy like froth-mouthed epileptic). Herewith the
> set-list
> (thank you Cliff for the artefact, by the way)...
>
> * "Communion"
> * "Requiem"
> * "Total Invasion"
> * "Wardance"
> * "Blood on Your Hands"
> * "Change"
> * "Seeing Red"
> * "The Wait"
> * "Whiteout"
> * "Pssyche"
>
> From what I could tell, the crowd was pretty into it (though I would've
> liked to have seen a bit more movement). I believe Dirk was chastised by
> some figure of authority for attempting to get a pit going. What's New
> York
> City coming to? Ya can't smoke? Ya can't mosh? It might be time to move
> to
> the country, methinks. At one brief point (I want to say during
> "Change,"
> but I might be mistaken) some entirely foolhardy lad leaped down from
> what I
> believe was the BALCONY onto the stage, whereupon he was summarily
> treated
> to a roughnecked "bouncer sandwich" and jostlingly bundled off to what I
> can
> only imagine was a late evening of moist-eyed wound-licking. Silly boy.
>
> And as soon as we were reaching that white hot level of synchronized
> band-crowd intensity.....it was over. Thanks for coming. No encore
> (which I
> believe was CMJ's doing, not the band's). Once we spotted the drum kit
> being
> disassembled, we knew the proverbial fat lady had chirped.
>
> Stumbling around, trying to organize some semblance of a plan, Fluw and
> I
> bound upstairs, looking for the band. From behind th stage door, along
> comes
> Jaz looks suprisingly relaxed, respendent in black with signature
> Indiana
> Jones hat. Fluw and I dutifully express our boundless gratitude (I
> believe I
> told Jaz I was thinking of naming my impending child after him). He
> could
> not have been nicer. Out walks Geordie, looking a bit miffed to be
> honest,
> though I cannot say why. Fluw and I basically deduce that he is not to
> be
> bothered. Back downstairs we go and meet red-haired and pig-tailed Robyn
> and
> her pal Sean, whom we unsuccessfully invite with us to the nearby
> Black'n'White Bar for a drink.
>
> Outside the venue, we give a knock on the tour bus and Raven yanks us
> inside
> for a brief, blurred momment of affable howayas. We mention that we're
> all
> going to the Black'n'White Bar to continue the merriment. Parsons says
> he'll
> be along shortly.
>
> Once back outside, off we go the bar one block away, where we are soon
> joined by Ted Parsons, keyboardist Nick Walker (who had to go BACK to
> the
> bus to fetch his passport to prove his age to the unsmiling bouncer),
> Troy
> Gregory (!!!!!...who looks bizarrely like a younger version of Jaz)
> various
> roadies, an ex-Swan (old pal of Ted's) and Cliff's trio of lovely
> ladies.
> Many, many drinks and photographs followed (watch this space soon for
> those)
> and it was at this point that I became more of a blabbering loon than
> usual,
> initiating the afore-mentioned practice of shoulder-hitting, much the
> chagrin of my fellow bar patron. Ted Parsons, Nick Walker and Troy
> Gregory
> were all complete champs and chatted with us like members of the
> extended
> family. Raven, it seems, has sworn off heavy-bevvy comsumption and
> remained
> behind to store up his strength for the next gig. I gather the night
> before,
> Coles saw the band in fighting martini-swigging form, so their batteries
> needed a recharging I suppose.
>
> Hours and dollars later, it was all over. The boys in the band repaired
> back
> to the bus. Exorcist fled back to Queens. Fluw and Colesy repaired back
> to
> the Union Square Hotel. The German contingent departed for their hotel
> in
> midtown, and I wobbled the two blocks back to my home, though not before
> Cliff handed me the setlist outside the venue (where Coles was convinced
> we
> were going to pound on the tourbus door to wake up Jaz and Geordie....we
> didn't).
>
> And that was that.
>
> Alex in NYC
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