Okay. How I spent my trip to Manhatten, by Tara Maguire age
Shit! How old am I? 28.
I had stayed up practically the entire night on Tuesday, despite the fact that I was going to breakfast with Wemble. Wednesday came early and bright, with a phone call from Wemble to tell me she was running a bit late. 10:20 am. My alarm has been going off for half an hour? argh. Fuck this.
Wemble arrived at my apartment shortly before 11 am and I remained in bed. I stayed in bed as she sat at the foot and talked to me, as I talked much sleepy shit. I finally rolled out at around noon, after she left my bedside in pursuit of talking to my brother.
lunch on the fly, before she dropped me off at the train station. And miraculously, I boarded the correct train. This is something I do on a never basis. You'd think that after YEARS of taking this train to Philadelphia, I'd have gotten it down by now? Hah!
Thee Pumpkin Girl and I were set to meet at 2 o'clock at 8th and Market. I stood out in the hot sun, berating the season, and smoking a cigarette while listening to a cop and some random schmuck shoot the breeze.
She shows up, I lose my book (and discover this fact three blocks away. It was my copy of the Tooth Fairy by Graham Joyce. BLAR!), we buy myself a new book, and we're on our way.
I'd like to present to the jury Evidence A, a documentation of the idiocy that TPG and I get into when we're trapped on a train for an hour and a half with a digital camera.( the magpies being magpies! )( Conductor! )
She's yet to send me the rest of the photos, which involve me peeping over the seats at her. hrmph.
We switch trains in Trenton, involve ourselves in more camera wackiness, and arrive in Manhatten only slightly flustered and kind of hot.
Roseland Ballroom, twenty some blocks away. It's pushing degress of GOD IT'S FUCKING HOT, so we decide on taking a taxi to the venue. This, however, is easier said then done. I've never had so much trouble hailing a taxi in NYC. Not once. By the time we actually caught one, I was about ready to throw down to the next motherfucker who took the one that slowed down when I stuck my hand in the air. We also had the honour of seeing some yahoo in a convertible make a U-turn in the middle of the intersection around 33rd. Fucking wow!
Roseland has a line stretching from the door to mostly all the way down the block. We planted ourselves at the tail end and settle down to smoking cigarettes and reading our books. Rawr!
Slow moving line and some bit of time later, we're inside the venue after having shucked our water bottles and snuffed our cigarettes. This New NYC shit is irritating, I tell you. These jackoffs are going to tell me that I can't smoke at a NICK CAVE SHOW?! Umm. Hi. Nick Cave /is/ the epitome of smoking. Okthxbye.
Nice venue, by the way. I wasn't expecting it to be so big. And there's no seats! Which means TPG and I mark our territory towards the front and center, where we plan on doing no moving whatsoever.
Opening act is a two piece: girl with low pigtails on drums, looking mighty bored to be alive and girl in bad pants with a guitar, looking like she was channeling Joey Ramone. This does not bode well for your narrator and her faithful Pumpkin Girl. I had bad feelings of SUCKY BAND ALERT, kind of like a Spidey Sense. I'm frequently right on the mark with them, as well.
Lo and behold, I am not let down by my super powers. Half way through their second song, I think to myself: "Self. This sounds exactly like the first song. Also. She has a horse mouth and that leg lifty thing she's doing is really fucking stupid."
A quarter of the way through their fourth song and I think to myself: "Self. This too sounds exactly like the first song. It also sounds like she really wishes she was PJ Harvey. And what exactly is she trying to accomplish with the leg lifty thing? Get on a horse? God. She looks fucking stupid."
By the sixth song, I was ready to claw out my eardrums. As well as cut off this stupid bitch's leg. This band officially SUCKS. And I don't even know who they are. Also, my feet are really starting to hurt and I'd like a smoke please.
After what seems like AEONS, the first band leaves the stage. Time passes, TPG and I twitter at each other. We talk smack on the girls standing in front of us, about how they won't fucking move and the one has really annoying hair. The lights dim and we twitch and giggle and shake each other. It is time for...
...some fat guy with a guitar?
Umm. Who's that guy? And why is he on stage when this is CLEARLY a Nick Cave concert?
After a couple of agonizing songs (and a few moments of "okay, maybe this is just a joke and he's going to leave now."), I realise it's the guy who sings with Mister Cave on "Bring It On", from the newest album. This also does not excuse him for being on the stage when I have clearly only came here to see one person and one person alone.
Make the bad man go away please, mommy. And he does.
The lights dim again and I can feel the tension in the crowd rising ever higher. I lean over to TPG and whisper sotto vox
, "If this is another fat guy with a guitar, I'm going to start killing people."
And it is not! There's Conway Savage! And Warren Ellis! And the guy who's name I never remember! And the guy who isn't Blixa, but is obviously his replacement! And some more people! And there's Nick Cave! And holy fucking shit, he is right the fuck in front of us and I am going to die of twitteryness!( i'm down here for your soul. )
If I wasn't so dumbstruck, I probably would have paid more attention to the set. But, I am very bad at remembering songs played at a show unless they pimp slap me. Many of these songs from that night pimp slapped me. What I can remember from the set list is (not in play order):
West Country Girl (quite unlike the album version, this one is hard and fast and kicks my ass)
The Mercy Seat (also unlike the album version and also kicking my ass)
From Her To Eternity
Christina the Astonishing
Do You Love Me?
God Is In the House
Into My Arms
Hallelujah (I broke down and sobbed like a bitch during this. Last year, when my mother was first diagnosed with cancer and was still in the hospital, I would go out in the middle of the night and drive around. Up and down the highway, listening to the album this is on. Actually, usually just listening to this song over and over and over. He made the crowd sing the "hallelujah" parts and I got goosebumps all over.)
Henry Lee (I don't like the live version of this, which he did fast and hard. The lyrics don't jive well with the music and it feels...wrong somehow.)
Bring It On (with that fat guy, Chris Bailey. He's kind of smarmy looking. I don't like him.)
Red Right Hand (eeeee! EEEEE! See, if you've ever seen the Bad Seeds in concert, you would know about the pointing thing that Nick Cave does during certain songs. He points, out at people in the crowd. It is menacing. It is powerful. It is...hot as all get out. TPG and I have a list of things that need to happen before the end of the world can come. Being pointed at by Nick Cave is one of them. And I am very happy to report that the first seal has been broken. He pointed RIGHT THE FUCK AT US during the "...you ain't got no self respect, you feel like an insect" part of the song. We fell over against each other with the sheer...power that he wields. I tremble at the very memory of this. Yes, I'm a big dork.)( hidden in his coat is a red, right hand. )
There's more, but like I said before, I just can't remember them all. There was two encores, though. Deanna and Into My Arms were during them.
(off topic, does anyone know what this
is all about?)
(ahhh. Here is my answer
The show ended with the words "Thank you very much! See you in a couple of years!" TPG and I stagger out of the venue on painful feet, but with light hearts. We're hungry. We're thirsty. We're hot. We're on a mission to meet us with Miss Janette, who will be our saviour in all of these departments as our guide through the mean streets of Manhatten.