Cafe culture
Was reading my book about Nim Chimpsky at Tillie's tonight and they did an open mic. First though the cafe people played a bunch of songs on the stereo from 69 Love Songs. Because of Valentine's Day I guess? In which case, a loaded choice. Because, I mean, for these people, really? I don't think I'm just thinking like a sitcom when I say that I could imagine one of the guys in there -- maybe the one who was reading The Fountainhead -- realizing that he just couldn't take it, getting up very reluctantly, and saying to the guy, "Come on -- change it, man."
I am treading lightly because there's a very nasty, as-seen-on-TV tone/attitude that tends to be taken towards Valentine's Day. It is a dull, cynical stance -- banal because it is predictable, calculated, formulaic... a sort of defiant expression of rebellion that is actually not rebellion at all but rather quite transparently defeat... "I don't care about this holiday, anyway!" The people who say this, or anything like it, are still buying into whatever they are declaring themselves to be beyond; the only difference is they're buying into it for the purpose of denouncing it. No more interesting a maneuver at this point than smashing your guitar on the stage at the end of your band's performance. Canned fury; marching to the beat of a drum you want people to think is your own.
All that said, I still think: playing 69 Love Songs at Tillie's on Valentine's Day? Jesus. Maybe burn the place down too.
The sign-up sheet for the open mic was put out on the counter around 7:30; by 8pm only one act had signed up, and that was a pair of 10-year-old girls named (I think) Kina and Tika. They sat down afterwards and stayed in the cafe for like 30 minutes, waiting at one of the tables for enough other people to sign up so that they could go on. At 8:30 an emcee took the stage and introduced them. They sang "I Remember" by Keyshia Cole, which I'd never heard before and thought they'd written, which made me remember how the song lyrics I wrote when I was 10, 11, 12 sounded like The Offspring and Stone Temple Pilots. Snotty, confrontational, oblique. "WHAT THE HELL DOES 'DIY' MEAN? AND HOW ABOUT A ZINE? THIS FUCKING PUNK MENTALITY / ALL THE WORDS I'VE SEEN / I WANT AN EXPLANATION / IT'S ALL A LOAD OF SHIT." That was written in 5th grade, for the band Section 69 (first EP: "Laudanum"). I had just started using mailorder to get ska CDs from Asian Man Records and taping "Everything Off Beat Radio" on Sunday nights. I was forthcoming about my status as a newcomer but... I'd started a band in spite of it and if I do say so myself there is something to admire in that.
After the girls got done a rapper went on and as the beat dropped one of his friends in the audience yelled out "YO IT'S NOT A CAFE ANYMORE!!" (It was still a cafe, and not just because the guy rapped about fucking Obama.) That guy served as hypeman the rest of the time, yelling from the audience words of encouragement ("Handle your business!" "That's it") whenever the guy hit his stride in a way that reminded me of the dudes in On the Road who shouted "blow, man, blow!" when they got to jazz clubs. I could never quite get on board with that, not even when I read that book at 15, and when that guy yelled out I felt pretty much the same way about it. Maybe it's my fault that I can't fathom enthusiasm so uncontrollable/rapturous without suspecting that it is being forced; people tell me I have a fine enough time being "earnest" myself (hey ladies) but it's possible that I can't tolerate it in others.
During the next guy's set, which was quieter and closer to spoken word than rap, this same hypeman kept making that sound people make in fake life when they take a sip of something cold. After that it was his turn to go up on stage, and he was really pumped to do it. Except the CD he gave the cafe guys didn't work so he had no beat. He rapped some things without accompaniment, really dirty things by a cafe open mic standard but pretty typical if you're used to Dipset/Lil Wayne/etc. He kept stopping every 8 bars or so to say, "you guys don't wanna hear that, do you?" Finally he walked off shaking his head, very obviously bummed that his stupid CD didn't burn right and that he didn't get to perform. After him three little fucks in sweaters and suspenders came up and did the Moldy Peaches thing where they don't try to be good as a joke. "Isn't it funny that we thought this was worth performing," basically. It felt like a matter of great injustice that these idiots got their satisfaction and the hypeman, who had obviously looked forward to this a lot, didn't get to do what he came to do. I'm sure someone out there will say that is a "problematic" feeling... why do I assume the rapper's motivations were any more pure/authentic than the little indie kids who followed him, etc; fair point I guess BUT I promise this is just real talk, not an illustration, at least not an intentional one, for why I think there should be a class war.
After the trio a high school kid in a Mets hat played a cover of some country song, or maybe he wrote it himself ("Walking the low road / Drunk on rye"). He was asked to do a second, and he introduced it as a Valentine's Day song. Then he played "Last Caress" by The Misfits. Which was obviously hilarious because that song has lyrics like "I raped your mother today" etc. -- sorta like when Eminem introduces "Drug Ballad" by saying "This is my love song!" except not a real joke. I guess people have always found this kind of thing funny -- it is not that different from Dynamite Hack covering "Boyz N Da Hood" or Mountain Goats covering "Ignition (Remix)" or even Weird Al doing anything -- but while the kid played I couldn't help but feel like I was watching a YouTube video. What's worse is the little jester didn't even do a good job with the song -- where the original sounds alternately sinister and silly, this sounded more like someone gloating.
That was the end of it. I don't know but I think it was a pretty good open mic? Sitting here now I can hear a mouse in the pantry, otherwise all quiet. "For God is not a secret, and this also is a song."
I am treading lightly because there's a very nasty, as-seen-on-TV tone/attitude that tends to be taken towards Valentine's Day. It is a dull, cynical stance -- banal because it is predictable, calculated, formulaic... a sort of defiant expression of rebellion that is actually not rebellion at all but rather quite transparently defeat... "I don't care about this holiday, anyway!" The people who say this, or anything like it, are still buying into whatever they are declaring themselves to be beyond; the only difference is they're buying into it for the purpose of denouncing it. No more interesting a maneuver at this point than smashing your guitar on the stage at the end of your band's performance. Canned fury; marching to the beat of a drum you want people to think is your own.
All that said, I still think: playing 69 Love Songs at Tillie's on Valentine's Day? Jesus. Maybe burn the place down too.
The sign-up sheet for the open mic was put out on the counter around 7:30; by 8pm only one act had signed up, and that was a pair of 10-year-old girls named (I think) Kina and Tika. They sat down afterwards and stayed in the cafe for like 30 minutes, waiting at one of the tables for enough other people to sign up so that they could go on. At 8:30 an emcee took the stage and introduced them. They sang "I Remember" by Keyshia Cole, which I'd never heard before and thought they'd written, which made me remember how the song lyrics I wrote when I was 10, 11, 12 sounded like The Offspring and Stone Temple Pilots. Snotty, confrontational, oblique. "WHAT THE HELL DOES 'DIY' MEAN? AND HOW ABOUT A ZINE? THIS FUCKING PUNK MENTALITY / ALL THE WORDS I'VE SEEN / I WANT AN EXPLANATION / IT'S ALL A LOAD OF SHIT." That was written in 5th grade, for the band Section 69 (first EP: "Laudanum"). I had just started using mailorder to get ska CDs from Asian Man Records and taping "Everything Off Beat Radio" on Sunday nights. I was forthcoming about my status as a newcomer but... I'd started a band in spite of it and if I do say so myself there is something to admire in that.
After the girls got done a rapper went on and as the beat dropped one of his friends in the audience yelled out "YO IT'S NOT A CAFE ANYMORE!!" (It was still a cafe, and not just because the guy rapped about fucking Obama.) That guy served as hypeman the rest of the time, yelling from the audience words of encouragement ("Handle your business!" "That's it") whenever the guy hit his stride in a way that reminded me of the dudes in On the Road who shouted "blow, man, blow!" when they got to jazz clubs. I could never quite get on board with that, not even when I read that book at 15, and when that guy yelled out I felt pretty much the same way about it. Maybe it's my fault that I can't fathom enthusiasm so uncontrollable/rapturous without suspecting that it is being forced; people tell me I have a fine enough time being "earnest" myself (hey ladies) but it's possible that I can't tolerate it in others.
During the next guy's set, which was quieter and closer to spoken word than rap, this same hypeman kept making that sound people make in fake life when they take a sip of something cold. After that it was his turn to go up on stage, and he was really pumped to do it. Except the CD he gave the cafe guys didn't work so he had no beat. He rapped some things without accompaniment, really dirty things by a cafe open mic standard but pretty typical if you're used to Dipset/Lil Wayne/etc. He kept stopping every 8 bars or so to say, "you guys don't wanna hear that, do you?" Finally he walked off shaking his head, very obviously bummed that his stupid CD didn't burn right and that he didn't get to perform. After him three little fucks in sweaters and suspenders came up and did the Moldy Peaches thing where they don't try to be good as a joke. "Isn't it funny that we thought this was worth performing," basically. It felt like a matter of great injustice that these idiots got their satisfaction and the hypeman, who had obviously looked forward to this a lot, didn't get to do what he came to do. I'm sure someone out there will say that is a "problematic" feeling... why do I assume the rapper's motivations were any more pure/authentic than the little indie kids who followed him, etc; fair point I guess BUT I promise this is just real talk, not an illustration, at least not an intentional one, for why I think there should be a class war.
After the trio a high school kid in a Mets hat played a cover of some country song, or maybe he wrote it himself ("Walking the low road / Drunk on rye"). He was asked to do a second, and he introduced it as a Valentine's Day song. Then he played "Last Caress" by The Misfits. Which was obviously hilarious because that song has lyrics like "I raped your mother today" etc. -- sorta like when Eminem introduces "Drug Ballad" by saying "This is my love song!" except not a real joke. I guess people have always found this kind of thing funny -- it is not that different from Dynamite Hack covering "Boyz N Da Hood" or Mountain Goats covering "Ignition (Remix)" or even Weird Al doing anything -- but while the kid played I couldn't help but feel like I was watching a YouTube video. What's worse is the little jester didn't even do a good job with the song -- where the original sounds alternately sinister and silly, this sounded more like someone gloating.
That was the end of it. I don't know but I think it was a pretty good open mic? Sitting here now I can hear a mouse in the pantry, otherwise all quiet. "For God is not a secret, and this also is a song."
posted by Leon at 3:52 PM
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