Put on your fedoras, grab your gimp suits, and fire up that DeLorean to 88 to prepare for this weekend’s midnight movies. You can head over to Nitehawk Cinema, grab a drink, and choose between Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior and Dead Man. Or don’t choose, they’re both playing on Friday and Saturday. 1995’s Dead Man starring Johnny Depp is technically a Western, but saying that it’s a Jim Jarmusch film is a much more helpful descriptor. The film is great and a nice reminder of what Johnny Depp was pre-Pirates, but as it’s playing as part of Nitehawk’s Summer of Surrealism series, be aware that you’re in for restless sleep and probably some weird dreams after. Or you can head over to Road Warrior, part of their July Brunch & Midnite: Burn N’ Rubber series, to see the greatest car movie ever made on the big screen. Plus, you can witness Lord Humungus’s fabulous fashion sense as it was meant to be seen.
In what was probably the only justifiable reason to be hanging out in midtown west this summer, Teenage Fanclub hit Pier 84 last for the latest installment of River Rocks‘ free summer show bonanza. The indie icons churned out a 72-minute mega-set to a crowd that clocked in just shy of Dinosaur Jr.’s at 4Knots appearance in terms of sheer size and I-can’t-fuckin-see-i-tude, deploying all the favorites with a little help from their friends in Honeyblood and Saint Rich. Check out the video and setlist below, and then get ready for Temples, who headline River Rocks’ next rager on August 7th.
15 months ago, on the heels of Iceage’s sophomore effort, You’re Nothing, and awaiting the emergence of related projects like Lower and Vår, you probably heard me barside at some venue in some stupid t-shirt spouting the opinion that Copenhagen was home to the best punk scene on the planet. Since then, however, critical and consumer attentions have strayed, said scene has evolved, and now, looking back on a year dominated by black metal bands and shoegaze start-ups, it all seems like a distant and, given those band’s sonic proclivities, ice-encased memory.
Thanks to Gothamist for doing the leg work. There’s just no way we could take sober dancing and animal masks at 6:30 AM.
A $20 ticket to Morning Gloryville gets you the following: three hugs upon entry (one from each of the Morning Gloryville crew), a plastic lei, and three and a half hours of dancing. There’s a smoothie bar, where smoothies are $6-a-pop and juices run $9, and you can purchase Brooklyn Roasting Co. coffee for around $2-$3, if you so desire. Massages are available for a “suggested donation,” and crews were leading soggy yoga classes every 5 to 10 minutes on the Zoo’s rainy roof.
The dancing, though, was Morning Gloryville’s real bread-and-butter, with DJs blaring house music that reverberated all the way down Bogart Street. The Zoo—which was packed by 7:30 a.m.—boasted a bouncy floor and trampoline, and attendees were all over it, climbing walls, doing handstands and flipping from a rope swing in the middle of the room. The Zoo’s garage doors were open, and passersby kept stopping to snap photos of the dozens of grown-ass adults in sequins doing pike jumps and tossing giant blow-up balls around the faux-graffitied wall.
Morning Gloryville advertises itself as a pre-work “sober rave,” a description that stressed me out initially—how does one survive a strobe-light dance party without intoxicants? Is it appropriate to spike a mango smoothie? Can you blog on an Ecstasy comedown? But those concerns were all for naught, because what Morning Gloryville really is, is a $20 gym class, designed to pump you with endorphins before you move into your cubicle for the day. I prefer running in circles around Maria Hernandez Park but, hey, everybody’s doing their own thing.
The next edition Morning Gloryville goes down on August 13th at 6:30 a.m.; buy your tickets online.
Greenpoint’s ferry stop may be back in service by next Friday. The India Street dock that shut down in February after a ramp suddenly collapsed is expected to be replaced in the next week, according to the city’s Economic Development Corporation spokesman Ian Fried.
RedSky Capital, which privately owns the pier, should be finished installing the new ramp by the time the G train suspends service for five weeks for Superstorm Sandy repairs next Friday, said Fried, whose organization is in charge of the ferry route and works with the landings.
Greenpoint riders have had to take a shuttle to the North Williamsburg stop for the past five months.
“The G train is a critical transportation link for people in the area,” Fried said. “We recognize the importance of making sure the East River Ferry is operating in Greenpoint prior to the G train shutdown. RedSky has always operated with this in mind.”
The gangway leading to the ferry’s landing detached in February during a snowstorm, giving away moments after riders had crossed. Noone was injured.
Preliminary reports indicated the gangway itself was safe, but the poles holding it up had problems, Fried said.
Virginia native Catey Shaw’s new song Brooklyn Girls takes place in Williamsburg (and a little bit in Bushwick). “There’s a palace of bricks in 11206 where all the fly Brooklyn chicks reside.” While I give her an incredible amount of credit for not putting the word ‘hipster’ in the chorus like everything else ever made, the song/music video is of course still full of standard Williamsburg [Read more...]
Go ahead, world, thinkpiece yourself until hell freezes into a giant cosmic ice cube and Satan is left jobless and alone, wishing he remembered a damn cardigan. Mortals, don’t give a fuck. Sure, they’re girls in a dude-dominated metal-verse; yeah, they went straight from unsigned to the biggest extreme label on earth; and, yep, they’re from buzz-band Brooklyn, but all these blackened doom breakouts really want to talk about is their debut album, Cursed to See the Future, and it only takes one listen to understand why. A potent concoction of killer riffs, Oslo-approved shriekage, and ambitious arrangements, Cursed is one of the best debuts you will hear this year and we caught up with the trio to discuss it, boxing in bathing suites, idiot MTV writers, and why you shouldn’t miss their record release rager at The Acheron on Friday night. After all, your backpatch cred may well depend on it.
In the history of perfect matches—Sonny and Cher, weed and brownies, Jeter and the Yankees—a free hardcore punk show at a Greenpoint skatepark ranks pretty damn high, especially when gratis booze is thrown into the tryst. No matter your feelings on hardcore/skaters/Heineken, ample supporting evidence was on display at House of Vans last night, when NYC hardcore legends Gorilla Biscuits set off the sometime-venue’s fourth free summer bash with a little help from their friends, including Mike Judge of (duh) Judge, who joined the band onstage for a encore rendition of Judge’s “New York Crew” that loosened every damn rivet in the warehouse. Check out the video below and then go smash your forehead off something solid.