by Jonathan Singer

Rock the Pool

Apparently I’m cool enough to score press credentials to the upcoming (free) Black Lips concert at McCarren park pool. Special thanks to **** *** **** ******* ** for setting up the deal. If no one is bluffing, here are some questions I have for the band. Feel free to comment with your own questions, I just might end up asking them.

-Last summer you guys took a trip to Israel/Palestine, and apparently the merch sold on your website is sold in pounds. How popular are The Black Lips overseas, compared to your popularity in the US? Why is it that many American indie rock bands become popular in Europe before they garner mainstream success at home? What’s it like to be part of that scene?

-You’re playing at McCarren Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, arguably the Mecca for hipster culture. Today’s show is free, and is supported by (insert companies on concert day). What do you think of the commercialization of this subculture?

-You’re from Atlanta, a city more known for southern rap than for garage rock. What’s it like to be a garage rock band from Atlanta?

More questions to be posted…

The VIP Area

Apparently a lot of other people were cool enough to get on the list that makes them VIPs at the McCarren Pool Party. Now I find myself in some high-class area where beer costs two dollars instead of six. In a neighborhood where everyone thinks they are better than everyone else, I feel better than all the suckers who had to wait on the long line for regular admission. But the concert is free to begin with.

I see groupies with funny sunglasses; I think they’ll have more access to black lips than the amount I get. The problem is that I don’t really know what the black lips look like. All these people look the same.

Roman and I interviewed some of the hipsters waiting outside before the show. “We’re not pretentious, we come for the artists,” said one patron. “I don’t think anyone should try to outcool anyone else,” said another, a 25-year-old resident of Williamsburg who rents her living arrangements as opposed to owning them.

More on this scene later…

Some Time Later

It’s some time later and the VIP area is as packed as ever. King Kahn is currently on stage to the right of me. I know that Kahn is Persian, but the rest of his back-story is messed up. One guy told me it’s Kahn’s first US performance in 12 years. A fellow VIPer said that he recently performed another show here in New York City. According to Kahn himself, the singer is from Montreal.

He performs like a madman. Sure, he encourages the crowd to throw garbage on stage, so that King Kahn and his shrines (the band) get pelted with plastic beer cups.

The music is reminiscent of James Brown, but with more cursing. Then again, I wasn’t around for James Brown. At least in 40 years I can say I was at one of those McCarren park pool shows in Williamsburg.

Deerhunter

Apparently this article that I’m writing is more about the scene at this concert than the music. Deerhunter just finished their set, and (gasp) they have a girl in the band! Like any larger outdoor venue, the sound quality isn’t the greatest, but I was still able to hear Deerhunter’s ambient grooves. In fact, some of the music made me zone out, and I found myself wandering aimlessly around this municipal pool turned concert venue. By the time I snapped out of it Deerhunter had upped the ambience for their finale, doing that hip thing where you play your electric guitar directly in front of the amplifier. Then the girl guitar player did cartwheels and flashed her underwear. That peep show made me feel bad to be single. Black Lips are up next, and I will try to bag a hipster girl before this show is over.

Black Lips

This is the last season for McCarren pool parties. According to some dude who spoke on stage, next year the city’s going to fill the empty pool with “some sort of liquid.” Since they gave out VIP creds like crazy, I wasn’t sure who the dude was.

But for the time being, I have Internet on my phone, which means that I can update this journal AS THE BLACK LIPS ARE PLAYING. While I won’t have the chance to ask the band my Atlanta question, I don’t think it matters because ONE OF THE GUITAR PLAYERS WEARS A GRILL ON HIS TEETH, just like a true ATL gangsta.

And the music doesn’t suck either. The grill player commented about rock music having synthesizers, priding the fact that his band is two guitars, bass and drums. No turntables…

Thanks Kip

The “media credentials” I thought I was going to get ended up being bullshit. So I didn’t get to interview any of the bands, although I did have a quick run in with King Kahn: He snubbed me off because he was late for sound check. Then he handed me a flyer for some after-party that I obviously didn’t go to.

Sorry if I seemed delusional for the past few days, I genuinely thought I had something going when I created a really fancy letterhead and sent a professional sounding e-mail to some guy named Kip. Kip put my name on the VIP list, which gave me access to the VIP area. But the talent was confined to an area within the VIP area, a space that was guarded by very un-hip looking jacked security officers.

That left me wondering how all the other people got into the VIP area. Two of the people I talked to claimed to be freelance journalists/photographers.

Maybe Brooklyn Vegan was there, but I don’t know what Brooklyn Vegan looks like. At least Roman got access to the photo pit in front of the stage. But he couldn’t get on stage like some other photographers.

For some reason I found Damon in the VIP area. What’s up, Damon?

The concert itself was mediocre; The Black Lips were really fucking loud but played some pretty catchy tunes in style. Maybe it was because they had a good amount of hot chicks on stage with them. I have no idea how those women got passes to be on stage. I don’t want to call today’s McCarren Pool Party one big hipster circle jerk, but today’s McCarren Pool Party was one big hipster circle jerk. Fuck you and your fucking scene, but at least it was fun to go into Brooklyn on a Sunday. Maybe my writing talents will land me a high paying job so I can afford one of those new half million dollar condos that are being built in Williamsburg. Hooray!

by Jonathan Singer

After hanging out with punks at an ABC No Rio Punk/Hardcore Matinee, I thought I’d hang out with hipsters at a McCarren Park Pool Party. The show in Williamsburg was free and the bill included The Ting Tings, Black Moth Super Rainbow and MGMT. I packed my pair of Wayfarers and hopped on the ‘L’ to Bedford Avenue.

Arriving at 12:30 a.m. was a good idea; entry to the venue was granted on a first come first serve basis. Apparently hipsters have no regard for rules, because a “rogue line” formed on the other side of the pool’s entrance, creating two lines that would funnel patrons into the abandoned pool turned music venue.

I didn’t mind the wait, or the lengthy lightning delay that occurred after a set of dark clouds moved in from New Jersey. After all, it was a “scene” to be at one of these Pool Parties, and I was able to be a “scenester,” albeit for just one day. I made friends with a group of hipsters, offering to share some of my umbrella space, but not in exchange for marijuana.

For some reason everyone put their umbrellas away when The Ting Tings took the stage. I guess it’s fun to get wet at a concert, although I don’t go to enough concerts to begin with. At a larger (and not free) event one month earlier, the guy from Modest Mouse almost got struck by lightning.

The girl from The Ting Tings, along with the guy performed a solid power-pop set, reminding me that the UK definition of “pop music” is vastly different from the US definition. As a two-piece, the singer was visibly uncomfortable through numerous technical errors on stage. But the drummer was as chill as ever. Decked out in red Wayfarers despite the cloud cover, he had no trouble keeping a beat to whatever pre-recorded tracks they would play.

It wouldn’t hurt the band if they got some more members, as relying on canned back up music is lame. A Ting Ting’s record is a multi-track success, mixing catchy vocals with drums, guitars and synthesizers. Why not hire some more musicians to play Moogs on stage? You can dress them up as chickens if you wanted to.

On the subject of analog synthesizers, I was looking forward to the second act, Black Moth Super Rainbow. The Moth’s use 1990s synthesizers. I don’t know where they get their equipment from, and the band took a risk by playing on a day with rain. Or, perhaps, they shouldn’t have played at all.

I had seen Black Moth Super Rainbow before at an album release party for Dandelion Gum. That show was a lot less boring than Sunday’s McCarren performance. Some kids put in a good effort when they started dancing, but the crowd wouldn’t respond. It was hard to dance when every song sounded the same and this was the point that I realized. Every Black Moth Super Rainbow song sounds the same. The band’s singer sings into a voice modulator, making him sound like a robot on every single song. Perhaps the band’s lyrics are deep, but a lot of people can’t understand them.

But, hey, at least I stayed for the headliners, MGMT, formerly known as The Management. I have a bad memory, but I saw The Management more than two and a half years ago, and their top song was their current mainstream hit, “Time to Pretend.” I left before they got to play that song. When I saw Management the first time, they opened for Of Montreal as a two-piece. Unlike the aforementioned Ting Tings, MGMT pulled off the two-man show with style, turning the stage into a mini-studio, showing the audience how to make beats on a drum machine while playing with multiple instruments.

I must have missed the memo when MGMT tuned into a psychedelic rock group because that’s who ended up taking the stage on Sunday afternoon.

Once again all the songs sounded the same, except for their hit “Electric Feel,” which sounded like radio single. I found myself waiting patiently for the set to end, figuring that it would be disrespectful to leave in the middle. I was also part of the sea of people gathered in front of the stage and mobility was kept to a minimum.

But when I saw two guys plowing through the crowd with “excuse me,” I followed them out. I got a chance to explore the rest of the pool party, which featured advertisements for Scion, Red Bull, Fuze and some open space shit. I didn’t even buy a t-shirt on my way out and I love t-shirts. That gave me the rest of the day to enjoy being a scenester in Williamsburg.

Hopefully my review of Sunday’s concert wasn’t too pretentious. I can’t wait for my freedom scarf to arrive.