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If I'm not already fired for being three hours late on this post, I should be fired for the pathetic notes I took at last night's Pitch Music Showcase. It's not that I didn't try, it's just that at some point -- I'm pretty sure it was the Jameson shot at McCoy's -- I swapped my ordinary notebook shorthand for some new kind of perverse, drunken shorthand that may as well be Sanskrit in the light of day.
Good thing I have an average memory and can handle my liquor reasonably well! So here are my five favorite moments of the evening.
1. Sitting by myself eating nachos at the Foundry, drinking a Budweiser -- those McCoy's/Foundry craft beers are always warm! -- and listening to FSTZ blast out a set of physical, pulsating electronic music. Alas, it was too early for dancing, and when my friends showed up it was too loud to hear each other in there, but it was glorious for a few moments there, alone, the music pounding the night's anticipation into me.
2. Dutch Newman outside at the Riot Room, during which he kept making fun of a heavyset dude up front near the stage. I arrived mid-set and never saw the guy's face, so I'm not sure if it was his boy and all in good fun, or what, but the guy was wearing a purple shirt and at one point Newman freestyled some rap where he called him "Grimace." Later on he called him an "overweight California raisin." I would have walked on stage and beat the fuck out of Newman if I was this guy, but he seemed to be having fun with it.
3. Newman also had a rap where he dissed somebody by saying something along the lines of, "You're just mad you still work at Minksy's." LOL. And on one song (All the right friends in all the right places" is I think how it went?) he spazzed out and did a bizarre stage jump, then calmly walked back up the steps and continued spazzing out for a couple more minutes. I'd never seen Newman before, and found the whole set pretty endearing.
4. Leaving the Riot Room. It was almost as hot inside that place as it was on the patio. Couldn't handle it. Wanted to see Hammerlord but after talking to two different people who kept stealing glances at the sweat dripping off my forehead, I knew I had to bounce. I have enough problems as it is.
5. Standing against the back wall at McCoy's, watching Oriole Post and imagining making a new life for myself with one of the girls in the band. I don't even care which one. We'd live off the land, till the soil, drink lemonade, make quilts, bear children. In the heart of the heart of the country. Etc. The seven-piece (I think? Six?) band played a quiet, classy set of folky Americana. Very pure.
I vaguely recall watching some of the Dead Girls' set and hearing the Noise FM in the parking lot, but I can't tell you a single thing about either. I was determined to see Rooftop Vigilantes, but instead I smoked about ten cigarettes and bullshitted on the McCoy's patio. So maybe I wasn't the best reporter in town last night. But I had a blast.