*OR* An Overly Detailed Recounting
9.27.10
3:50 pm
[Message redacted.]
I had made a list of several things I was going to do so as to NOT waste the day sleeping or snoozing or napping or grinding my genitals into a fine, fishy paste.
While at home, I was going to try, one last time, as a final gambit in the most one-sided game of Phone Tag EVER, to contact my connection at Brillstein (home of such no-names as Brad Pitt, Paul Rudd, Natalie Portman etc.), get in touch with my cousin who has some high ranking position at Pearson Education (which is affiliated with Simon and Schuster Audio Books) and talk about sending my audio reel and demo and such, work on constructing the hallway soundscape for this years Halloween party and, finally, begin work on a special project suggested to me by one William "Rocket Man" Pomerantz.
Once these things were finished or at least begun, I was going to head over to my manager's office and pick up a check that had been waiting for me.
I placed the call to my Brillstein connection and left a message, considering the matter closed forever, spoke to my cousin's secretary, a lovely lady named Nancy who sent me the last three Dark Tower audio books for free and who informed me my cousins was eating a sandwich and would call me back and completed work on the hallway music.
I was about to embark upon the Secret/Safe Project when my phone rang.
It was a Brillstein number.
Long story short, I had a nice conversation with Stacy who said, now that's she's spoken to me and seen my reel/demo etc., that she was going to pass my name onto any agents she comes in contact with.
Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn't, but I felt good about it.
Anyway, after the conversation, I set out to pick up my money Lebowski.
I did so and was informed by Adrienne, my manager's excellent assistant, that she had just sent me an e-mail about a thing.
I had been recommended personally to a production company for a voice over project.
They wanted me to record some copy at home and send the file in to them.
Friday they wanted me in to record a "scratch" track at noon and, if they were needed, to do revision's on Monday at one.
I said: Good.
I went home, recorded the paragraph a few times, did some editing, mulled it over and then played what I had for my one and only who helped me cobble together what we thought was the best possible recording.
Then we cuddled and waited for my sister, who was coming up to New York for the third weekend running (this time for the ATDA conference and the Eels show).
She arrived with her brand new, 6 week old kitten, Dr. Spectre, in tow.
My sweet Christ, I have never seen anything this small and wonderful.
I quite lost my shit.
Eventually, we all fell asleep.
I woke early and even by normal people standards, around 9:45 am.
Hm.
Actually, never mind, that is still late for the Daylighters.
I called in again (I hadn't worked enough on the Secret Project) as my fake headache was now a full blown fake migraine, and I couldn't hardly speak, let alone work...
Anyway, I had been informed the day before that this recording was between me and one other person, so I wanted to make sure I was up and ready to go if I got the call.
At ten or so, I called my manager's office and was told by Adrienne that she was also waiting to hear back about the mp3 I had recorded and sent.
To kill time until the phone call did or did not come it, I began work on the aforementioned Secret Project.
Things were moving along nicely and then Adrienne called again.
The production house wanted me to come in to record the script today, in about forty five minutes.
I hopped on the train and headed down to Bond street to Greencard.
I arrived and recorded a thing for a new casino/resort opening in Atlantic City.
The two engineers were excellent, exactly the kind of guys you'd picture working in a production house on Bond street and we all had a fun time.
After that, I went home, at which point the kitten fall asleep on my shoulder.
Soon, Kathy and Christina came home, and we all watched Billy Madison.
That movie is still solid gold.
Then, we all slept again.
Saturday, I awoke late and showered in preparation for the concert.
Kathy arrived back from her second awful day at the awful, pointless conference and we set off for Terminal 5, about two hours before doors.
We were, literally, the only people there for a good twenty minutes.
Eventually, three or four more people showed up and Kathy and I passed the time playing hangman.
I must say, when I showed up 6 hours before doors for Nine Inch Nails at Terminal 5, I was about thirty people from the front.
Eels needs to step up their advertising.
Anyway.
At around six or so, we were all moved from outside the venue to the roof deck to wait there.
Not sure why, but we were still first so I really didn't mind.
Kathy was complaining about some chick in her personal space so we switched places and I farted on her.
No effect.
Which was kind of creepy.
Eventually, we were allowed onto the floor.
Kathy and I were dead center, on the barricade.
Once we'd staked our claim, we promptly sat down, backs to the barrier.
People began to trickle in, including the loudmouth from the last time I saw Eels.
What follows is background.
This guy is one of those people who has seen every show by every artist ever.
And he also knows all the bands,
All of them.
He is maybe...forty? And trying, desperately, to prove to people under forty that he is still hip and a part of the scene, any scene, every scene.
At the last Eels show I was at, I was maybe third or fourth in line and he was first or second, telling anyone with ears about how he knows Mark and he saw Eels when it was just him in L.A. in an empty pool etc.
Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, but seriously, who fucking cares.
Unless you're going to give me money or backstage passes, shut the fuck up.
Anyway.
That show was at the Highline Ballroom and was very quiet.
So quiet you could hear individual audience comments.
There weren't many people making comments.
There was that understanding amongst the audience members, like when everyone knows not to clap along or to not scream stupid shit during the show, you know?
A vibe..
There was really only one person who didn't seem to get the vibe.
Yes.
Him.
Whenever E or The Chet (E's multi-instrumentalist) did something excellent on stage, in the resulting appreciative silence after said excellent thing, he would yell "BEAUTIFUL!!!".
Guy, we all know it was beautiful, but you saying that it was beautiful makes it less beautiful.
Cock.
Anyway, at one point, both E and the Chet were fiddling with stuff, getting ready for the next song.
There was maybe ten seconds of silence, not uncomfortable, just, silent.
This man would have none of that.
Apropos of nothing, he yells, "Thank you Mark! Thank you Chet! We love you very much, thank you!"
Forty year old guy.
At the concert alone.
E looks distractedly at the microphone and says, "Sir, please do not address the stage."
It was...well.."BEAUTIFUL!!!"
Back to Saturday.
This time, the man had brought his son.
Wait, back up.
So, he sees Kathy and I sitting there and says, "You guys just sitting there now, right? You're going to stand for the show, right?"
Before we can respond to such a retarded, question, he goes on.
"Because, you know, I drove five hours to get here with my sons, you know? So we could be up front."
Kathy, truly my sister, takes the words from my mouth and says, "Well you should have left earlier."
I just smiled, as I had JUST THEN recognized this wang as the guy from last year.
He then made a mental note to never speak to either of us again and went over to his son (who he called "honey". I have ALWAYS had a problem with men calling their male children, of any age, "honey" or "sweetheart" or anything like that. It's just fucking creepy.) and tried to find a good place to stand before engaging the poor fuckers three people to our right in "conversation" until the first opener came on.
Kathy and I nicknamed him "Honeyman".
Eventually, the first opener came on.
Clara Rose, a "rock n roll ventriloquist" from Brooklyn.
She had maybe twenty minutes or so, during which time she broke out a Keith Richards dummy and a bigoted 1920's dummy named something Sinclair.
She sang a bit and told some corny ass, off color jokes, pretty amazing overall.
The 1920's one would occasionally whisper that he was going to kill us all and at one point, he told us he was going to cut open our abdomens and fill them with salt water taffy...poison salt water taffy.
It was an excellent opener, completely adhering to the tradition of interesting, odd or just different Eels openers.
Then the second opener came on, a waifish Irish singer/songwriter type from California.
She sang five or six songs backed only by her acoustic guitar.
She reminded me a bit of both St. Vincent and Regina Spektor.
She did a great job, very haunting.
And, finally, around nine or so, the lights dimmed and an instrumental rendition of "When You Wish Upon A Star" began.
E came out alone, dressed all in white, sporting his usual sunglasses and a stars and stripes bandana.
He played "Daises of the Galaxy" solo and then called for the Chet.
After one or two songs, he called out the rest of the band: a bassist, yet another guitarist and a drummer.
Four guitars, one drum set.
Eels 2010.
Overall, not my favorite Eels show. I love his quieter, more nuanced stuff a lot and, without a keyboard up there, some songs lost something. The loud songs were done just right though, killing several members of the audience.
There was a massive amount of the three new albums played, and, as I don't really love all of them, that was kind of a bummer, but they brought out some jewels.
"Dog Faced Boy" and "Souljacker Pt. 1" rocked like fuck as well as "Jungle Telegraph".
They also played "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues" set to the tune of "Twist & Shout", which worked very well.
"Fresh Blood", "Baby Loves Me" and a hard rock version of "I Like Birds" were also highlights.
As usual, there were a few covers, "She Said Yeah" by the Rolling Stones, "Summer In The City" by Lovin' Spoonful and "Summertime" by George Gershwin.
Like I said, not my favorite Eels show, but, whatever, it was a blast nonetheless.
Afterwards, Kathy and I returned home and we all watched Tropic Thunder.
Then Adrienne (upstairs neighbor and friend/co-worker of Christina, not my manager's assistant) came down with her cat, Ziggy so we could watch what followed.
It was cute.
Then, more sleeping.
We all woke up and bade my sister and the kitten safe travel back to the land of living free or dying.
Then Christina spent the afternoon around St. Mark's like we used to.
We enjoyed some excellent (but sadly, soy based) deliciousness at a really excellent Thai place, then we split a gluten AND dairy free hot fudge brownie sundae in the 6BC Garden, one of the most magical places in New York I've been in a while.
Then...I had a strange feeling.
I called Video Game NYC, a small video game shop right around the corner from where we were, and asked if they had Dead Rising 2.
They said they did.
So I bought it.
Three days before it comes out.
I played a bit last night after working more on the Secret Project, watching the first movie in the Red Riding trilogy and eating an amazing meal of butternut squash, tofu and curry made from scratch by Christina.
Folks, if things are always going to be this good, I just might get a brain tumor.
And I'll name him Abraham, because he will have emancipated me from the horrible slavery of my job.
Get it?
Why I'm calling my tumor Abraham?
Yeah.
You probably do.
Sorry, your princess is in another castle.
Tough shit.
No comments:
Post a Comment