We’re stuck between seasons here but in the best way possible, experiencing the best of fall and summer all between sun up and sun down. That’s why this week we’re bringing you everything from a sizzling time at the very last Riis Park Beach Bazaar show by the water to a dark rager deep inside the belly of our favorite metal bar. Jump for deets.
It’s an interesting experience being in a public place with M. Lamar. Even in Bushwick, you can feel every eye in the room traveling back and forth between his long, stick-straight black hair, his various spikes, and jet black clothing. The artist– who performed Destruction, his multi-faceted theatrical black-metal opera last night at Issue Project Room— is probably like no one you’ve ever seen before. For one, M. Lamar truly lives his art (which is like nothing else out there at the moment), as evidenced in his speech and appearance: he drapes himself in the darkest blacks and speaks with passionate conviction. “Lately, I’ve been calling myself a ‘negro gothic devil-worshipping free black man in the blues tradition,'” he explained. It’s actually a modest description of what Lamar’s all about.
What the hell happened? Seems as if Fall came out of nowhere, and fast. Dead leaves on the gross-ass ground, trash tornadoes from the sudden gusts of ice wind, and a slanted sun that disappears before you’ve had the chance to get out of bed. We’ve already heard people planning to split for the Waste Coast (lame) before it gets ugly. Thankfully, we’ve got a number of bands blowing into town whose sounds hail from warmer climates, reminding us we can always travel to these places in our minds when shit hits the fan.
Welcome back to reality. Now that summer’s officially over (the days seem shorter already, don’t they?) you’re going to need a serious hangover remedy for those months of self-abuse. If that sounds painful, it doesn’t have to be. Good shows will help get you back on your feet and distract you from the literal spiral into darkness happening right before our eyes. This week, see what a Kiwi guitar-pop legend is up to these days and don’t miss a certain Tropicália squad’s reunion.
Before meeting the guy, I envisioned Yonatan Gat as some latter-day guitar god, a reincarnation of that tradition of males whose sole purpose in life is to descend from the heavens (or in this case, Israel) at the permanent age of 27 to spend a brief but divine moment here on Earth, shredding away. I wasn’t alone– Yonatan Gat has been dubbed a “composer,” referred to as a “world music-inspired maestro,” and compared to Jimi Hendrix. It seems that whoever’s looking at him perceives Gat as rock-idol progeny. So when I found myself walking up to an actual castle in Brooklyn Heights, my suspicions seemed all but confirmed.
Yeah, yeah we’re well aware there’s a holiday weekend– for some of us, anyway– coming up soon, but all the better to pack in some legit shows this week before you pack your bags. Besides, just face it, you’re probably doing something not that far from grilling/hanging/sun-roasting/eating/boozing/eating/boozing and acting generally like a beached whale on a bender this weekend anyway, so might as well sweat out the last of your bikini blob at these bangers.
Hate to break it to you but the band to see this week, Royal Headache (Mark E. Smith and Morrissey moved to Australia and had a baby, basically) has sold out two freaking shows, one at Palisades and another at Rough Trade. What a royal… pain in the ass these guys are, coming all the way from Upside Down America only to play a couple of shows in what is inarguably the center of the goddamn universe! You’re officially counted as #tragic if you don’t have a ticket, but don’t go plotting any public beheadings just yet, there are plenty of worthy alternatives to wrap your ears around.
Our only utterance of advice for this week: pack em in, kids. If you’re as unsettled about the end of summer as we are, consider taking some of that aggression out at any number of these shows (there’s enough punk to go around for all of yous) or, better yet, gaze at some of these truly gnarly noise-makers in awe of frustrations much deeper than your own. Best, best, best of all, though: see what happens after a legendary rapper denounces her medium but returns to the stage anyway for something altogether new. Cheers to spiteful finales.
We’ve got quite a week in music ahead of us, with no shortage of neuron-twisting, brain ‘sploding variety. A week in shows wouldn’t be the same without that post-punk sound that’s so very now. This time around, two (very different) bands of this persuasion are sharing a bill as well as a genre, demonstrating these constraints are as fluid as their riffs. But best of all, a legendary psych band that perhaps you took for extinct will light up the stage at one of our favorite lil’ DIY venues. Hope that’s enough flavor to get you scrolling.
Whether you’re a child of the ’80s or the aughts, your film heroes will come to life at these tributes to Ferris Bueller and Harry Potter. Get ready to don your wizard hat, mullet, or both.
Aug. 1, 2 until 8 pm at The Bell House: $8 at the door
Sorry, little muggles, this event is 21+. While there will be the requisite costumes of black robes and wands, there will also be drinks of the knock-you-off-your-broom variety (think Firewhiskey and Butterbeer). Beyond witches and wizards, expect to see magical creatures, squibs and muggles competing to win the costume contest (you may have a chance unless the lovely Fleur shows up). You can also see if you’re as smart as Hermione during trivia. Or take your turn in the sorting ceremony and try on the dusty hat. Overall, this is the perfect time to let out your inner Potterhead and practice your shoddy British accent with no shame. In keeping with Harry’s defeat of You-Know-Who through love and friendship, part of the PotterCon proceeds will go to the Harry Potter Alliance.
Gigawatts Fest is happening this weekend, which is great and all — I need my pop fix as much as the next guy. But sometimes I want to be surrounded by sounds that whinge, “I’mmmmmmm differentttttt.” If that’s you, too, get thee to these smaller shows where you’ll find acts that don’t exactly qualify as festival material, if you catch my drift.
If you had a chance to swing by Our Wicked Lady in the hours before their grand opening then maybe you found the loopy singer-songwriter Mac DeMarco throwin down dogs whilst a couple of his new tracks bumped on the boom box. Or perhaps you were stuck behind double-paned office windows, miles from anything resembling summer or fun, let alone new music. Stir not in jealousy, though, for the release of 25-year-old Rockaway resident Mac Demarco’s new “mini-LP” is just on the horizon.