(10.11.05) It was a 40 minute ride to Miami’s design district from where I live in
central Broward County — a loathsome trek down the stretches of I-95,
into the heart of the slums, where for some reason, Miami-Dade planners
decided to integrate upscale nightlife and wino chic into one crusty,
piss-soaked experience for the scenesters to dig on.
I had my +1 in tow, along with her friend from Boston (who was
planning on buying a ticket when we got to the door.) A stinking bum
with a flashlight had proclaimed his self lord of the otherwise free
street parking and was trying to rake $5 for protection out of
everyone who parked. We opted not to pay, hoping his cooking-sherry
induced stupor would be mellow, and keep him from sniffing around the Honda.
We rounded the bend and found ourselves at the head of a block-long
line, teaming with sweaty, bedraggled scene kids; each looking the part
of a walk-on role in an iPod commercial. I asked the punky Paris Hilton
at the door if I could go ahead and see the press list, so I could check
in, to which she replied “sorry, everyone has to wait in line.” I simply
smiled, bit my tongue, and made note of it for my review.
Fast forward an hour or so –we are now at the door. Gone are the
conversations with old friends we ran into (what’s up corduroy?) and an
out-of-towner who I had successfully convinced that Prefuse 73 was a
country-western artist that defined the spirit of southern Americana. We
showed I.D., got our armbands, and asked to see the guest/press list.
The following is a rough transcript of the very brief conversation
between yours truly and the owner of the venue, who if I may add, was
quite the victim of McDonald-land fashion.
RG :: “Hi there, I’m Randy Garcia, with Igloo Mag. I’m doing a review of
the show tonight and I should be on the press list +1.”
Owner :: “I don’t see you here, who do you know?”
RG :: “huh?”
Owner :: “Who do you know? Who said you were on the list?”
RG :: “Uh, Pietro, the editor.”
Owner :: “Who? I don’t know him; I don’t even know who Igloo is.”
RG :: “Well let’s see, I can’t call Pietro and I don’t know the number to
Warp records, nor do I think they would be available to take my call
so –how much is it to get in?”
Owner :: “Twelve dollars each”
RG :: “Guh!”
Now before you accuse me of being an entirely stingy twit, keep in mind
the following:
acts/ DJ’s.
free publicity to a dumpy club and the mediocre entertainment it was
providing.
(who I’m not even fond of) perform as a drummer in a band using his
name, only to write a similarly scathing review focusing on the lack of
musical quality instead of the lack of grace and etiquette of the club
owner / label rep / yakyakyak.
I tell you, $36.00 US can go a long way at the local pub. The
entertainment was pretty solid too. It was a rare appearance by the
Falcon Pub’s house band, which played a heady blend of classics from
Fleetwood Mac to Violent Femmes, all under the smoky voice of a female
rocker. Musical joy aside — we also didn’t have to pay a premium for
watered down booze, as the top shelf liquor and beer selection at the
Falcon is just swell and well within the budget of a freelance writer,
grad student, & guy from Boston. Hell, even the food is excellent. Try
the Chili.
Another side note about the Falcon Pub: They have one of those Download
Jukeboxes with an awesome selection of stuff (Stereolab, Sonic Youth,
etc.) One night we were getting ready to go home, so we put all the
weird ambient and noise shit from Aphex Twin‘s Drukqs on. Lo and behold,
within mere moments there were a couple of John Deeres beating on the
side of the box & hootin’ “Wot th’ haile’s wrong widdis thang?” We
snuck out, snickering the whole way.
A couple of days later, I received a verbal review of the Orlando P73
show from my boy D, who said: “I could describe it in three words:
LOUD, SLOPPY, and BORING.” I also received (through Igloo) an apology
from Warp Records for Scott Heron‘s utter lack of togetherness (he was
his own tour manager.) Of course I ‘forgive’ Warp, Prefuse 73, and The
I/O Lounge for their general apathy. After all, I’m just one of many
potential end-users of their product and my dissatisfaction shouldn’t
affect their bottom line. However, I must also thank them for showing me
that a hard working bar band and tasty imported brew can be a shit-ton
more entertaining than any pretentious scenester party could ever be.
Don’t take my word for it though, try it for yourself…
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Prefuse 73’s Surrounded By Silence is out now on Warp.
