It wasn't when I consulted my gmail account for details of a forthcoming Federale (warning, myspace page*) show that I realised that Park Slope, whether its nether reaches or no, was never going to become Rock City. Sure, there's the delightful Southpaw, or the mostly harmless Union Hall*, whose downstairs I almost graced for a Goes Cube show before fatigue overtook me.
But what the area lacks is an edgy hinterland inhabited purely by scenesters. Young and silly people do not move to Sunset Park or Gowanus, and they sure as hell don't belong in the Slope proper or Cobble Hill, where late twentysomethings with bitter laughs and unruly facial hair stalk the land. But Greenpoint and Bushwick, though, that's quite the locale, something the Times has only dimly registered.
Now, if you're a very sly individual you may be sensing that I've been trying to turn a hideous display of my own myopia into a marginally solid trend piece. And it's true. Unlike (I'm fairly certain) such a noise gourmand as Miguel (though the repeat Optimo post should earn him at least a small spank), I have never been a guest of Todd P. I'm now very curious about it.
The man seems prepared, in exchange for the publicity necessary to sustain a long-term club empire, to set up an entire music festival on his own, albeit one fashioned entirely from bands in town by virtue of the CMJ cockfest. Still the man's schtick of pressing strange Bushwick spaces into service as gig venues, tickles me. It reminds me of the sixteenth century habit of pressing merchantmen into warships whenever the French came knocking (God, you're a tosspot, Gari)
Almost makes you want to get on a B38 bus. Almost. I'll be in a suit the evening of Thursday 2nd. But this post does serve as a segue into the ramblings round Ridgewood I experienced last weekend, and upon which I will report if my pictures have been developed.
*New Gumby Fresh policy is, I think to clearly include myspace pages among the category of links that makes browsers go screwy. I include in this elite category pdfs, flash pages and .wmv files.
**Between the opening of Union Hall, about which I visibly hyperventilated, and last night, when I almost went to a show, I had soured considerably on the place, a factor largely of the debased SoBro*** clientele. Tuesday night before CMJ, though, they were a pretty amiable bunch. Except for two guys who both dressed up as Wally. Twats.
***South Brooklyn. Did I mention already the tosspot thing?