Rocking and Whatnot

It’s been an action-packed past few days and nights for me and my extensive wardrobe. The mayhem started last Thursday night when my rock band Valley Lodge and I all jumped into a cab and showed up at the Parkside Lounge on Manhattan’s scenic and historic Lower East Side to appear on an exciting new comedy/chat/variety show called the Parkside Radio Hour, which is hosted by my friends Tony Carnevale and Sean Taylor, two guys who- as it happens- also host an exciting and entertaining comedy night here in town called Variety Underground. The other guests on the Parkside Radio Hour were supposed to be Shandi Sullivan, whom I’m told is on the hit TV show “America’s Next Top Model,” and Cassis, a one-named German girl who composes music for films and works with the acclaimed white-haired director Jim Jarmusch on occasion (She also rides a motorcycle. This is something I learned during her interview). Unfortunately however, the Shandi Sullivan girl cancelled at the last minute, which was a bummer because I really wanted to find out what a contender for the title of “America’s Next Top Model” was really like in person. I also wanted to stand uncomfortably close to her, find out what she smells like, and see how she might feel about the idea of maybe grabbing brunch together some time soon (Next time, Shandi. Next time.).

Our appearance on the Parkside Radio Hour seemed to go pretty well as far as I can tell (We played our hits “Every Little Thing,” “All Of My Loving,” and “Hanging On”), though I must admit the talk show setting is not as conducive to choreography and other gyrations as the more familiar (to us anyway) rock show setting. Still, I’d like to think we touched a few hearts along the way.

On Friday night, I fired up the rock-n-roll asskicking machine once again, only this time it was with my friend (and Valley Lodge bass player) Phil’s band Heather, with whom I have recently begun playing guitar. We played at a super fun late night rock-n-roll party called Jelly, which was being thrown at Crash Mansion, a slightly too clean new rock club on the Bowery. Upstairs is another club called Blvd, where they were simultaneously throwing a hip-hop party of some sort. Unfortunately however, the hip-hop party was over capacity and, as a result, whoever owns both places decided that nobody else could enter either club after about 1am, which meant that people who showed up to see us at our 1:30ish set time weren’t allowed in. Dammit. Also, some band that played earlier in the evening, drank all the complimentary beer in our dressing room while we were setting up our equipment. That’s not nice, now is it? It’s not like I wanted to drink a ton of beer or anything, but it’s just the principal of thing. Go buy your own damn beer, band that shouldn’t have been in our dressing room in the first place even though the one girl in the band had really big boobs.

Despite the fact that a lot of people who came to see us play couldn’t get in and also some band with a girl with really big boobs in it drank all our beer, our set ended up being really fun and stuff. Afterwards, the famous hip-hop artist Lil’ John (whom I’m told really, really likes to have access to “krunk juice” at all times) cut throught the Crash Mansion club with his plus-sized bodyguards to conspicuously “sneak” through some secret entrance to the Blvd club upstairs, where- one can only assume- he drank “krunk juice” until well into the next afternoon or so. It is the nature of the beverage. People just can’t get enough of it. Especially that Lil’ John.

Backtracking a bit, I wanted to mention that earlier in the evening, after soundcheck, Phil and I went to a very authentic Chinese restaurant (as opposed to the places that serve more Americanized Chinese dishes like Kung Pao chicken and Moo Shu Pork and stuff) somewhere in Chinatown and- in the spirit of trying new things and potentially grossing ourselves out in the the process- ordered fried goose intestines with soy sauce and another dish that consisted mostly of large chunks of frog. We had both had frog before, so that was the safety pick of the two I suppose. In the end however, both dishes ended up being pretty tasty. The fried goose intestine had some texture issues that might keep it from being a popular favorite here in the states anytime soon, but was something I wouldn’t be opposed to ordering again some time soon as long as I could maybe get some lo mein or something to wash it down with. The frog was a bit too salty and had a lot of bones, but was also a winner as long as you avoid picturing an actual frog at any point while eating it. Then again I guess the same could be said for chicken.

On Saturday I went to see my friend Andy’s band Tuppy the Band, who put a smile on my face no matter how hard I try to stop that from happening. The show was at Parkside Lounge, located on Manhattan’s scenic and historic Lower East Side and also mentioned a few paragraphs ago. I’m sure they would probably kick me in the nuts for saying this, but Tuppy the Band kind of remind me of a garagey version of They Might Be Giants or something. They have funny lyrics and really great hair and I love them for it. Guys, please don’t kick me in the nuts if you are reading this. I wouldn’t do that to you. What the hell is you’re problem anyway?

Last night- Sunday, September 11 to be exact- I performed on my friend Josh Hanness’ comedy show, Friends and Family, which goes down pretty much every Sunday night from now on in the back room at the Beauty Bar on East 14th Street, right down the street from a place that sells reasonably priced porno DVDs. Being September 11 and also Josh’s first night back after a three-month hiatus and all, the crowd was small but good times were still had by all. The other comedians were Becky Donahue and Chris Jurek, who is from Minnesota. They were both very funny. I hope I was too, but I supposed that sort of thing isn’t really for me to say. Let the people decide. Am I right? What’s the deal with airplane food?

Anyway, now I sit here in my underwear at 1pm on a Monday afternoon, tired, undermoisturized, and not really sure what to do next. Showbiz is killing me. If only I had tested better, I could be performing surgery somewhere right now. Still, I’ll always have better pants than anyone in the medical community. So there’s that.

In other news, my friend Michael Cavadias has a new blog. You should totally check that shit out right here.

Dave Hill