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Cosmic
Psychos @ The Ding Dong Lounge
10.07.01
The
Cosmic Psychos come from Australia. We caught them in the Ding Dong
Lounge, up away from our usual East Village haunts on Columbus between
105 and 106. The Psychos are loud, fast and furious, and they prove
that guys over 40 can still rock, hard. We loved the show, and so
did our buddies, Bob and Paul from the U.K.
But the
real purpose of writing this review is the Ding Dong Lounge. The
owner, Bill, says that he's just trying to create a comfortable
neighborhood place, but the '80s punk-show posters on the walls,
the turntable stylings of DJ Punk Rock Rick, and the fact that the
Ding just doubled its size by expanding into the bodega next door,
point to great things in the future. With Columbia nearby and a
neighborhood rapidly (and, we say, unfortunately) changing from
working-class immigrants to young professionals, the Ding is in
some (i.e. greedy bastard realtors) might consider prime real estate.
We predict that the place will become a great new venue for live
music, and a cool place to hang out in general.
Brompton's
Cocktail @ A Certain Bar We Will Not Mention
10.11.01
Perhaps
the drunk guy staggering to the bathroom summed this gig up best:
"I'm a Vietnam vet! Whatever happened to rock n' roll?!"
Inebriated memories of the glory days of Johnny Maestro and the
Brooklyn Bridge aside, the thing that typified this gig was cognitive
dissonance. For one thing, a band that sounds like Primus-meets-Hawkwind
has no business playing a crappy dive bar away somewhere in Midtown.
They belong someplace more appropriate, like Brownies' or Arlene
Grocery-not playing to a handful of friends and a bunch of dunks.
Unfortunately, when they played the Continental a couple of weeks
after this gig, I was trapped on Long Island with my grandmparents.
I don't
know who Brompton is, but someone definitely slipped something into
his cocktail. Their music is trippy and funky as can be, and they
are tight, good musicians with definite stage presence. I'd definitely
go see this band again. In the future, though, if they don't tighten
up their songs to some boring verse-chorus-verse thing (God forbid)
and thus achieve pop success (saints defend us), I'd like to see
them give into their inherent weirdness-take a more techno route,
or maybe wear bondage gear on stage. Bizarreness in a band is something
to be cultivated, not denied. For example:
Psychocharger
@ CBGBs
10.13.01
Yes,
our powder-fresh bad boys came home to us, and what better place
to catch up with them than at CBGBs, temple of the good, the bad,
and the out-of-control. They came to us with a new apostle, some
Fu Manchu-looking guy whose name I can't remember. Not to worry,
though. He kept up beautifully, and did them proud.
The music
was right on as always, and moved to the same psycho-charged pace
as always. Elvis was surely smiling down on them. Unfortunately,
there were no technical difficulties this time, so there were no
entertaining stories courtesy of The Diabolical Dr. K. How ever,
he did jump down and commune with the crowd, leaving a billowing
cloud of baby-sweetness in his wake. Alas, the promised cow guts
were not delivered, and even though Jimmy Psycho happily spit blood
for us, in the tradition of great showmanship for which Psychocharger
is known, I couldn't help but be disappointed.
What
can I say? Psychocharger has done more for the advancement of underwear
than any other group on the planet. Today, Calvin Klein; tomorrow,
Victoria's Secret.
If
you’d like us to come check out your band, drop us an e-mail
at editor@corporatemofo.com.
Oh, yeah, put our names on the guest list!
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