I Went For A Walk

I let myself do something I don't do enough of last night, which is to simply enjoy Manhattan. From work in midtown, I took the subway down to the financial district and walked over to J&R, the multi-store discount complex whose resolution to rebuild and stay in the neighborhood after 9/11 was nothing less than heroic. J&R has about six stores along a stretch of Park Row; I bought a new razor in one and some gifts for relatives in another. It was gently snowing but not too cold, a perfect Christmasy night to go exploring. I walked up Centre Street through the concrete canyons of City Hall, 1 Police Plaza, and the Court House. This is a no man's land of Manhattan, nestled between Canal Street and downtown, that few New Yorkers ever visit unless they work for the city or get in trouble with the law. But it's an incredibly impressive stretch of historic buildings that never fails to impress me. A few more blocks and I was in Chinatown, where I treated myself to eggrolls and duck chow fun (Chinese food always tastes better in Chinatown.) Fat and happy, a short walk crosstown and I was at the Knitting Factory. There was a line stretching around the block when I got there, all young teenagers around 14-16, who were there to see four bands I'd never heard of in the basement Old Office space. Finally a bouncer came out and announced the show was sold out, and at least 50 disappointed 'tweens headed home, many of them really upset. I don't know who those bands were, but I hope they were good!

I was there for the show in the Main Space, which I really hate. It's got less personality than a warehouse, the sound is uniformly terrible, and it's flat out uncomfortable. I would much rather see a show in the cozy confines of the Tap Bar downstairs, or even the basement-show like sub-dungeon of the Old Office space. The first band was some screamo nonsense that I basically ignored. Next up were NYC's Challenged, friends of mine who'd recently released a new cd, Relapse, on CAbana1 Records. They were a little uncertain about the reception they'd get from the hardcore punk kids who were there to see headliners Youth Brigade, and I joked that the kids would be much more excited if the Challenged were from Wisconsin or someplace, rather than just another NYC band. So Rob, the guitarist, started the set by cheerfully announcing "Hi, we're the Challenged from Minnesota." There were kids lined up in the bar next door after the show eagerly asking him what part of Minnesota. "Duluth," he said, straightfaced (or as straightfaced as Rob Suss can be when he's had a few beers.) Ah, rock n roll.

Youth Brigade were awesome, all the more so for the ridiculously impassioned reception they received. Although there were a few old geezers like me in the crowd, most of the audience were high school kids, many in the old mohawk-and-spikes hardcore getups of the 80's. (There were four or five kids there who were all wearing the exact same tie-dyed jeans, black tee shirts, and matching bandanas around their necks. I really wanted to ask them if they were all in the same gay punk band or something, but I wisely held my tongue.)

I've never really thought of Youth Brigade as one of those early 80's bands still in fashion with today's punk kids, but judging by the maniacal singalongs, stage diving, and moshing that accompanied their set, BYO's doing a good job of keeping that music alive. It was one of the craziest hardcore shows I've been to in a long time, and a really fun night.

Jury Duty

It used to be that jury duty in NJ (at least Hudson County, where I live) felt like a huge waste of time. You'd show up with about 200 other people and sit in the Jury Room for four days. Maybe they'd call your name and you'd be shuffled off to a court room for voir dire (the process where attorneys and the judge screen and eventually pick actual jurors.) But it seems like I get jury duty ever 3-4 years and many times, I haven't done anything but read a few books and watch soap operas to fulfill my civic duty. (Of course, one time back in the late 80's, I actually served on a jury for a double homicide. The trial took almost six weeks, but it was fascinating to see a real murder trial up close and compare it to the nonsense they show us on TV. And it was indeed a daunting task to have to decide the fate of the man on trial.)

This time around, though, I discovered that Hudson County has streamlined its jury process. Now, they choose juries for specific trials. Today, about 500 people crammed into the jury room for an initial screening. Anyone with a hardship excuse (illness, full-time student, too old or too young or unable to speak English) had to stay and be excused by the judge; everyone else was excused and reports back at the end of January. At least we all know that when we report back, we will be called to court and interviewed for the jury. No more sitting around for a week reading the newspaper. The bad news is that the trial is expected to run six weeks (they didn't tell us any details;) but since they only need 12 jurors out of a pool of 500 people, the odds aren't that bad. And even if I do wind up on the jury, I'll serve gladly. The people I work for won't be thrilled, and getting to Jersey City every day by 8:30 am is no picnic; but jury duty is an important part of being an American. If you were accused of a serious crime, you'd want a jury of your peers to hear your case, right? Well, that can't happen if we all don't do our part.

"Folk You" for the last time. Photo by Stephen Bailey

Good friends, good songs, good bye

Last night we closed out "Folk You," the monthly acoustic showcase that Lazlo from BlowupRadio.com and I have been organizing for the last four and a half years. We started in the Rodeo Ristra Bar's basement in downtown Hoboken; when they lost their lease, we moved the shows to the equally intimate and cozy Goldhawk in uptown Hoboken. It was a lot of fun and there were a lot of great shows, but it just got too difficult trying to get people to come out on a Wednesday night in the Mile Square City. That and some personal issues that prevented Lazlo from being able to attend the shows for the last several months made us realize that it was time to call it quits. It just wasn't fair to the performers or the Goldhawk to keep booking shows when we couldn't deliver a consistent draw (which is not to say we didn't have some awesome, well-attended nights along the way.)



At least we went out with a bang (and a nice sized crowd.) After I played a short set to open the show, Jeff and Dylan from the Milwaukees played an engrossing set (Jeff on electric lead, Dylan on acoustic), mostly of songs from their excellent new "American Anthems." And the night closed with Marc Maurizi and Tom Gerkes of the late, lamented NJ cowpunk band Cropduster. Marc and his wife recently had their first child and he hardly played out anymore except for the occasional Folk You show before that anyway, so it was really good to hear him and Tom perform those great old songs again.

What was really special for me is that I've known all those guys for close to 10 years. Whatever there is in New Jersey in terms of a music community was there in that room last night; it felt more like family than just old friends.


It didn't really hit me that this was the last Folk You! until Marc started singing; I started flashing back to all the nights, all the performers, all the songs, and all the good times. I want to thank Fran Azzarto and all the folks at the Goldhawk for being so hospitable; all the performers for bringing us so many wonderful music memories; all the fans who showed up in the stifling heat of summer or on chilly winter nights to come to our shows; and a special thanks to Lazlo, for getting the whole thing started and keeping track of the details for me.

One chapter closes and another begins; I'll be back at the Goldhawk in February with a "folk punk" showcase, and the Goldhawk has already expressed interest in making it a regular quarterly event; one for each season, instead of every month. In the immortal words of that great philosopher Giorgio Moroder, you can't stop the music.