The Shadow Of The Sphinx

It's not often that we come up against the conventions of our blogging. Fairly simple, mostly, avoid too much explicit identifying information, use asterisks when swearing, and affect a condescending tone, one heightened by liberal use of the Royal We.

We'd also maintain that we have been scrupulous in avoiding giving out any explicit clues to our gender. This will be of little interest to the 90% of readers that know us, and we'll accept that naming our companion Cutesome offers is hardly deep cover. But pretending to be a pansexual being somewhat akin to a gas is a comforting affectation. We hold to it dearly.

How then, reader, do we intend to review a lesbian bar? Easy, ignore the sausage famine, and concentrate on the space. And the space, we must say, is rather fine. We're not bitter at Catyshack for stealing our idea of building a comfortable, yet hip, bar on Fourth Avenue. We understand, you see that, the owner was booted out of the Mieow Mix spot on the Lower East side, and recognise, moreover, that we'd have included a more pronounced auto shop motif as well as more breeders.

And it's mostly because they've assembled an awesome roof deck with a view, added cooling, and a nicely turned out crowd, some of which were men, and some of which were straight, but not that many. Moreover, the split levels, exposed brick and slightly outrageous drink prices are very not Brooklyn. Cool.

We missed the most recent Kill Henry Sugar and Dirtbombs shows, and were ultimately thwarted by an insurance salesman in our quest for Oneida, down at the East River Amphitheater yesterday afternoon.

We did manage to catch the fun and hyper-camp Extra Action Marching Band, complete with testicle-bearing majorettes and many drums. They are from Oakland and are to marching bands as jam-klezmer titans Kugelplex are to their chosen genre. They jumped and blew and shimmied around that amphitheater like the maroon and black freaks they are, and we are glad we ambled through the projects to see them.

In fact we'd have plugged their show tonight at the Knitting Factory if:

a)We thought you spent all Sunday reloading this page waiting for hot musical picks
b)We hadn't spent yesterday evening swilling Anchor Steam at the eager to please but somewhat scatty Smith Street joint Apartment 138.
c)We hadn't spent today sunning ourselves at the brutalist beach monument that is Robert Moses State Park.

To recap, we absolutely own Apartment 138 and Cattyshack, and if that isn't disgusting heterosexual male posturing for you, we don't know what is.