It’s Friday, folks! Did anyone else have a weird week? There was definitely something in the air. But you know what, as my yoga teacher says, it’s time to put all of that behind us and move forward. And what better way to move forward than with some FREE shows at Output. We’re moving into the month of electronic happiness, what with Full Moon Fest, Electric Zoo and Mad Decent Block Party right around the corner. And what’s this? Tonight’s Rooftop party at Output even has 2 for 1 drink specials? Can’t beat that . . . Check out the full list of upcoming free events below:
She was at Cherry Izakaya, which we hear great things about:
Last Friday, which was also the start of opening weekend for Lucy, her latest movie, Johansson and fiancé Romain Dauriac joined friends for the opening of the new Cherry Izakaya in Brooklyn, which is the sibling to the more upscale Cherry restaurant in Manhattan’s Dream Downtown hotel.
“Johansson was snuggling with Dauriac as the couple enjoyed a long dinner. The table was the last to leave the restaurant,” a source tells PEOPLE. An “izakaya” usually refers to a Japanese bar that serves small plates meant to be shared, and according to the source, the couple and their three pals ordered several small dishes such as the heavenly sounding shiitake confit gyoza dumplings, a seaweed salad and an order of shishito peppers (which, just saying, happens to be the type of spicy food a woman might eat to kickstart labor).
Although Johansson abstained from alcohol, the rest of the group sampled the house-made nectarine wine and several creative cocktails such as The Belmont, which is laced with bourbon, and the Aperol spritz (which Dauriac drank).
Ever wonder what would happen if Dillinger Escape Plan played a five-dollar show at Saint Vitus? Well the answer, as it turns out, is the sociological equivalent of a liter of Coke and a tab of baking soda: A full-room pit, walking on heads, beer, sweat, more beer, and, of course, other generalized mayhem courtesy of NYC’s metal set who turned out in force for last night’s impromptu throwdown at the house that Satan built. If you missed out on tickets or were otherwise engaged (probably with your couch, which can be an admittedly alluring siren), dry your eyes before the corpse paint starts running and check out video of the Jersey mathcore HoFers’ set from last night below. If you’re looking for the full effect, however, you’ll first need to dim the lights, crack a cold one, and start slamming yourself off the living room walls.
The show was co-hosted by Party Masher Inc., one of latest projects from the DEP dudes and featured support from Mothership, Meek is Murder, and Torrential Downpour, whose set you can also watch below.
The news just keeps flowing from Electric Zoo, who announced earlier this week that Beatport would be curating an eighth stage at the 6th annual festival on Randall’s Island. This is the first time that Beatport, who is considered the principal online destination for electronic music culture, will be hosting a stage at Electric Zoo.
The full Beatport stage lineup is eclectic and impressive featuring everything from House to breakbeat. You will find me losing my ever loving sh*t here most days. I can tell you from experience, Chase & Status are not to be missed! Check out the full lineup below:
Early in its history, Greenpoint was the home of dozens of shipyards scattered along the East River. Until recently, the neighborhood’s rich maritime history had all but been forgotten until a handful of seafood restaurants — Lobster Joint, The Bounty, Achilles Heel — began paying homage to Greenpoint’s roots.
Now, with the opening of Greenpoint Fish & Lobster Co. the neighborhood has an excellent seafood market and New England -style fish counter too. The understated space is warm and inviting, with black and white tiled floors, a raw bar, and a marble bar. Up front, Vinny Milburn is in charge of the market featuring fresh locally-sourced seafood and in the back Adam Geringer-Dunn runs the kitchen. The bar features a handful of craft beers and a small, but lovingly-curated selection of wines that pair well with oysters and the other light fare on the menu. [Read more...]
Reviewer channels his angst for Brooklyn’s preciousness on ‘morally insidious’ Montana’s Trail House
Sure, Montana’s Trail House feels a bit like a theme restaurant, but is it really “morally insidious?” Joshua David Stein over at the New York Observer thinks so. He gave the restaurant zero stars and quite the rant [emphasis our own]:
Last month, a young New Yorker named Montana Masback opened a restaurant in Bushwick called Montana’s Trail House. In articles about the restaurant’s opening, Mr. Masback referred to the cuisine as “Appalachian East coast country food.” The chef, Nate Courtland, meanwhile, described it as “Appalachian black magic comfort food.” To transform what was once an auto repair shop into a mountain hut, Mr. Masback purchased a dilapidated barn from Kentucky, deconstructed it and reassembled the pieces in Brooklyn. Among other archly rural accouterments are a taxidermied deer head, a Betsy Ross flag, framed old timey photographs, an axe and, in the bathrooms, decoupage of mid-century nudie magazines. The waitstaff had that new antiquated look adopted by so-many seventh-stoppers—the restaurant is off the Jefferson Street stop on the L train—which combines a youthful complexion with old mountain beards for the gentlemen and Walker Evans frocks with tattooed arms and septum piercings for the waitresses.
Montana’s Trail House is a very bad place. Its rottenness is both inherent and cosmetic; it is culinarily insipid and morally insidious. It’s bad to the last splinter of its Kentucky wood. Parceling off generic objections to the ridiculous fantasia Bushwick has become, there is a deeply toxic relationship with history and with America embodied at Montana’s Trail House. [Read more...]
As anyone who has ever seen High on Fire live can attest, it’s a vaguely religious, albeit thoroughly pagan, experience; a medulla oblongata-snapping, Dio-horn dotted 90-plus-minute almsgiving to anti-lord and semi-savior Matt Pike, whose ageless (and shirtless) Les Paul rippage has earned the Bay Area thrashers their righteous legion of sweat-and-beer slicked apostles and the in-awe reverence of metal nerds the scorched earth over.
You knew this was coming… [Read more...]