The Friday DrinkPod Download

Coat Check Girl by The Rinse

Run & Hide by The Walkup

Her Own Conversation by Lolita Bras

A Dublin Train Station by Embers

A Quick Moment with Carol

Neon = Delicious!

xoxo,
Carol

New York Film Festival Reviews

We've just begun posting our reports on this year's New York Film Festival. Check the Reviews page regularly over the next couple of weeks for reviews, links and photos.

And check out the wrap-up of this past weekend's Sidewalk Film Festival in Birmingham, AL. John C. Reilly showed up to accept the Spirit of Sidewalk award. Because he rocks like that.

Carol's CMJ Photo Diary

The King of France


The King of France


Pela


Pela


Pela


Pela


Tim Fite


The New Pornographers


The Castanets


Langhorne Slim


Lolita Bras


Lolita Bras


Lolita Bras


Jaymay


Holopaw

Carol's CMJ Diary, Night Two

Wherein I Realize I'm 30 and Have to be at Work in the Morning and Therefore Can't Justify Waiting Outside a Club for Two Hours Just to See if My Friend and I Can Get Into the Show

So my first night at CMJ kicked ass, and then it went on to suck ass. That happens, no biggie. Last night was a night of extremes as well, but different extremes. Early on, I was at the Bowery Ballroom rockin' out to some great bands, then later I was at home in my jammies watching cartoons. Man, CMJ is one rollercoaster ride after another.

The evening started out with my friend Maryanne and I going to the early show at Bowery to check out The New Pornographers. As luck would have it, we were able to score a ticket for Maryanne through Craigslist about two hours before the show. Nice! I was mildly disappointed that the two security guards at Bowery didn't give me a knowing smile of recognition...I mean, don't they remember me from last night? I'm used to that sort of disappointment, though. I have an irrational need to be appreciated by bouncers, bartenders and security guards. I want them to look at me and say, "You...you're different. Not like these other drunks who make my job a living hell. You're just a pleasure." At any rate, we got into the show without incident, ordered glasses of wine at the bar — $5! — and proceeded to take in the first performance of the night, Tim Fite.

Tim "MOTHERFUCKIN" Fite!!!

This was one of the more jaw-dropping, hilarious, bizarre, singular shows I've come across in a long while. Fite seems to have been influenced in equal measure by rap, torch songs and Einsturzende Neubauten, a magically delicious mix if ever I've heard one. Blue pin-stripe suits, multimedia shorts, finger-counting, electionic noise, samples galore and a projected Tim Fite accompaniment were some of the motifs. Though there was much experimentation with vocal distortion, Fite has an amazing voice to back up all that screeching, hollering and growling. You can tell that he has an artist's ear...every sound is deliberate and composed but the overall effect is immediate and unrestrained. This is the sort of performance you hope to come across during CMJ. And the showmanship didn't end with the set. Fite and his sidekick changed into blue workers jumpsuits to break down their equipment...cause you don't want to get your nice suit dirty.

Tim Fite's album Gone is Gone is available here, and they'll be opening for the Pernice Brothers at Southpaw on Sept. 23. I highly recommend you check them out.

Next up was The New Pornographers and they did not disappoint. I think I spent the whole time watching drummer Kurt Dahle, an insanely talented bundle of energy who can chug a beer while playing with one hand and throw a drumstick 6 feet in the air without missing a beat. He also sang lead on a divine cover of The Cars' My Best Friend's Girl. This was just a fun show with great musicians who are at the top of their game and are having a blast playing together. Bands of that caliber who aren't arena fare are hard to come by. Beulah was another one, alas they are no longer together. Le sigh...

When the New Pornographers were finished the venue emptied out to prepare for the late show. Maryanne didn't have a ticket for that one so after quickly grabbing a slice of pizza we rushed back to the line and began scoping out lingering concert goers to see if anyone had an extra ticket. Unfortunately, it seemed that no one was selling. I have heard good things about Diamond Nights, and I would have like to have seen The Wrens (at Mercury Lounge) or The Billy Nayer Show (at Knitting Factory) but the combination of a looming workday ahead plus a couple of freelance projects that needed to be wrapped up made the thought of snuggling up on the couch with my laptop and Futurama too compelling.

Before deciding to call it a night, we spied Tim Fite near the Bowery entrance. We took turns hitting him up for CDs, and he also gave us t-shirts at no extra charge. Woohoo! And so, with a new name to add to my list of bands to follow, I was able to return home triumphant, sober and just a little older than I should be.

Performance Video for Pela's "No Doves, Just Pigeons"

Recorded at Fearless Music for broadcast on Time Warner Cable Ch. 35

Carol's CMJ Diary, Night One

Wherein I am a Winner and a Loser at the Same Time

I'm a winner. Want to know how I know? Cause my CMJ badge says so, that's how. Who's cool now, former cheerleaders? Thanks to the good folks at ohmyrockness.com, I am the proud bearer of a CMJ badge, something that pretty much anyone can get but not without finding themselves several hundred dollars poorer. Now since I was lucky enough to win this badge, I've decided to put it to good use and see as many shows as possible. After carefully researching Wednesday night's offerings, I made a schedule and began my journey at the Bowery Ballroom. And pretty much every decision I made after that sucked.

The Dizzying Highs
The King of France and Pela kicked things off at Bowery and I guess I shouldn't be shocked that everything was downhill from there. But hey, at least the first two hours of the evening were great. I was a winner, The King of France jangled and jived, and Pela just tore the place down. That's the second time I've seen Pela and they are fast becoming a favorite. A solid rock band, a distinct creative force and stellar musicianship. Their songs are dark but catchy; have you shaken your ass to a song about sleeping pills today? I wish more folks had been there earlier for TKOF, but the people who were there really responded to them, so that was fun. September 27th can't come fast enough.

The Terrifying Lows
Two years ago I picked a CMJ show at random featuring bands I'd never heard of. And so I was introduced The King of France and The National. This year I figured I could do just as well -- or better -- by actually reading about the bands and listening to sound clips. Oh, how wrong I was.

After I left Bowery I walked up to CB's 313 Gallery to see a band with a great name, Forget Cassettes. They were purported to bring the rock and were fronted by a female singer/guitarist. Since I tend to gravitate towards male-driven bands I made a special point to check out at least one female rocker. The first thing I noticed was lead singer Beth Cameron was wearing a negligée. Sigh. Why do women do such stupid things? Generally, I'm not one for being harsh about artists who are just starting out, believing if you can't say something nice you should at least be constructive. But I really want her to not do this again. Wear clothes on stage, Beth. Instant credibility. To make matters worse, she just didn't have the chops to make the poor costume choice irrelevant. Cameron's vocals and lyrics were overwrought and her stage presence was somewhere between crack whore and girl interrupted. Conversely, Aaron Ford and Jay Leo Phillips, drums and bass/keyboard respectively, were incredibly talented and I wish they were in a better band. I only heard two and half songs; I ran as soon as I was able to suck down the glass of wine I had just purchased.

After a slice of pizza, I headed over to Rothko to check out Man Man. Oy. I had read that they were bizarre and energetic with a Tom Waits-ish quality. They were interesting for exactly 37 seconds. Then they were aggravating. I did like the contrast between the gravelly yowl of the lead singer and the falsetto backing vocals, but as one song bled into another I found myself making my way for the door, not before having my next glass of wine thrown all over my pants by a girl who slung her bag over her shoulder right in front of me. Damn girls.

The Creamy Middles
Next on my agenda was to try and weasel my way back into the sold-out Bowery to see Devendra Banhart. But as I began to head that way, the heavens opened and the Intelligent Designer reminded me that I am, and always will be, a loser, no matter what my CMJ badge says. I repositioned my three electronic gadgets -- iPod, phone, digital camera -- to my innermost pockets and began to run. By the time I got to the Bowery Ballroom I was soaked and looked a fool. The show was already half-over and it wasn't crowded outside, so I took solace in the thought that they might actually let me re-enter. Security checked downstairs, told me it was cool and I went inside and began to peel out my ID. At this point I was told that badge or no badge, it was $15 to get in. Zuh? What? So I stood there dripping in the doorway and said, "Well, I guess I won't go in then, but can I just stand here for a second?" I'm not even sure why I said that, but I must have looked terribly pathetic because the security guard took me by the arm and walked me over to the side door and let me in, no charge.

Devendra Banhart wasn't bad. He's a hippy. He performs with a stage full of other hippies. They play hippy music. That's all I really know. But it was pleasant enough and I was able to stand in the back and take my shoes off so I could drip-dry. At one point Steve from The King of France stopped by and asked what I thought of Devendra. All I could think to say was, "I think that last song was about pedophilia."

I had originally planned to see Four Volts at Pianos at 1:00, but given my soppy state I opted for a final glass of wine at Bowery and then a bus ride home. And that's the end of that chapter. In conclusion, since we were recently described by one source as a "service Web site," I will leave you with the most important lesson I learned on the first night of CMJ:

Don't order a $6 drink before the band starts. It's easy to walk out on a band you don't like, it's hard to do so if you just overpaid for a shitty merlot.

Cheers!

Retrospecticus

We at Drink at Work have been furiously making the rounds at music and comedy venues over the last week and it's only going to continue. CMJ starts today --yours truly has a badge--and the New York Film Festival begins next weekend. As a trusted humor and entertainment provider, Drink at Work is committed to providing you with our own take on these and other events. So to kick things off, here's a brief rundown of performances we've seen recently:

Nicole Atkins
For the first 10 minutes of her performance, I was convinced that she was lip-synching; no one's voice could be that perfect. No one, apparently, except for Nicole Atkins. This girl is just cool, there's no way around it. She's smooth, sexy, commanding and light-hearted all at once, almost the American equivalent of Marisa Monte. Her band The Sea is a collection of extraordinarily talented musicians and together they put on a show that falls somewhere between alt-country and bossa nova. You can check them at tonight's CMJ showcase at Sin-é.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
Is it terrible if I wasn't bowled over by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!? Don't get me wrong, I liked them, I did...really. Promise. I love Talking Heads and New Order and you can't go wrong by crossing those two sounds right down the middle. But I had one nagging little problem: I found Alec Ounsworth's voice distracting. It's not that I didn't like it, I just wanted him to enunciate at least one goddamn word. I have a pet peeve about lazy vocal patterns and that's how his voice sounds to me; like he can't be bothered to sing clearly. But why should he? Everyone loves how much he sounds like David Byrne...so rock on, Alec. I'll probably see them again and then decide I really like them and regret ever saying this...capricious girl.

The National
Quite simply, one of the BEST shows I have ever seen. It amazes me that these guys still get better everytime they play. They find moments in songs they've performed a hundred times and make them new. I'm shocked when I read reviews that describe them as bleak or unaffected. Aside from the serious looks on their faces, this band is about as far away from being boring as Kurt Vonnegut is from pole vaulting. Matt Berninger's voice is beautiful, deep and haunting, the Dessner boys volley spiraling guitar melodies back and forth across the stage like a game no one else knows how to play, Bryan Devendorf is a virtuoso drummer and Scott Devendorf (alternating with Aaron Dessner between guitar and bass) holds the rhythm that seems to keep the whole cataclysmic business from winding out of control. These guys don't perform music, they barely contain it. Love, love, love them. Check out their tour schedule to see if they're coming to your town.

The Shark Show | Special Hurricane Relief Edition
I was late for this show, so I saw it from the last half of Seth Herzog's set on. This was only the second time I've seen Seth perform fully clothed, and he was excellent. Scathing, sharp, adorable. After that was the mid-show review by Jesse McKinley (brother of Shark Show co-host Gabe McKinley). I believe this is a fairly new edition to the show, and it's pretty great. McKinley writes for The New York Times and he does a mini, bitchy review of everything that has happened up to that point in the show. It's uncomfortable and wonderful. Rachel Feinstein was next and she killed...probably the best performance of the show. I've laughed over her impression of her mother's voice many, many times since that night. This episode of the Shark Show also offered me my first chance to see God's Pottery, a faux Christian folk group so much like the real thing I thought I was back at church camp.

Yes, church camp.

Crash Test | Special Hurricane Relief Edition
An amazing line-up with a surprise performance by Mike Birbiglia. Mike's so likeable he should be Canadian. Or a delicious sandwich. This show as a whole featured a lot of the MVPs of EV, NYC comedy: Birbiglia, Demetri Martin, Eugene Mirman, Leo Allen, Andy Blitz (who read a brilliantly constructed letter of support to President Bush) and host Aziz Ansari. The crowd was a little demure and some of the bits seemed a little less developed than other weeks, but it was kind of a greatest hits show for good cause, so it worked.

The King of France

Get thee to the Bowery and see The King of France tonight...in like, four hours! They kick off the CMJ show there tonight and shall bring the funky-lizard swagger that we at Drink at Work have come to love. We enjoyed their pre-CMJ show at Scenic last night where they were in terrific form. Look for their self-titled album to be released Sept. 27 on Echo Records.


That about sums up the last week or so. We'll be hitting various shows tonight and reporting back to you, our dear, drunk readers.

Great List of Organizations Involved in the Relief Efforts

Go Fug Yourself has put together an exhaustive list of resources that covers almost every aspect of the disaster relief effort. Peruse the list and you'll find organizations that are providing food, coordinating housing, distributing school supplies for children, matching donations, setting up funds to restore historic architecture, rescuing animals, and more. Even if you've already given as much as you can, it will do your heart good to see just how many private institutions and individuals have rallied to this cause. Let's all keep giving!

The List

Thanks to the Cardinals for pointing this out!

Save New Orleans Cocktail Hour

The Museum of the American Cocktail™
and Southern Comfort's Tales of the Cocktail
Invites You To Support:

Save New Orleans Cocktail Hour!
Monday, September 12, 2005,
5:00 - 7:00 pm

On Monday, September 12th, between the hours of 5:00pm and 7:00pm, bar customers across the nation will raise their glasses for a “Save New Orleans Cocktail Hour” as bar and restaurant owners shake up New Orleans' classic cocktails to directly benefit New Orleans food and beverage industry workers who are out of work and sorely in need of funds for rebuilding their lives. During this special event New Orleans classics will be offered at participating bars for $10 per drink. Receipts from the Save New Orleans Cocktail Hour will be donated to a special tax-deductible relief fund established by the Museum of the American Cocktail.

Participating Restaurants and Bars
Press Release
List of recommended cocktails