It’s relatively common for people to write plays that are autobiographical, and then perform in those plays. Less common is an autobiographical play performed in the same neighborhood where events took place that led the play to happen, and produced by the very person that runs the theater where the writer used to squat. If this sounds a little convoluted, it is. But it’s also the very true nature of J.Stephen Brantley’s new play The Jamb, about two queer punks in their forties: one gone straight-edge, one stuck in the wild days of his youth.
This is Happening
As part of the Eugene Mirman Comedy Festival, happening in two weeks in Park Slope, comedian Eliot Glazer is taking his popular show, Haunting Renditions, to the Bell House. The Sept. 17 event is part comedy show/part karaoke show in which comedians take on the vapid, popular music hits of today with the help of a backing band and reimagine them in order to “find new, deeper meaning in otherwise lightweight compositions.”
Basically it’s like a more judgmental (and probably funnier) version of Carpool Karaoke. Joining Glazer on this installment of the show are comedians Ilana Glazer and Jon Glaser. Glazer, Glazer and Glaser will—oh jeeze. I am honestly not even sure which one the host is anymore. Wow, ok we’re gonna have to suss this whole thing out.
America is replete with music festivals (especially this summer, New York). There are so many it could make your head spin, causing you to momentarily lose sanity and fall into a killing spree.
That’s not exactly what happens in Jared Saltiel and Toby Singer‘s new musical South By South Death, but it’s close—the show is about a group of friends who head south to attend the infamous “Didgeridoo Music Festival,” conveniently set on a remote island. At the festival, pop star “Ciley Myrus” is headlining, but there’s something darker afoot. Someone in a Myrus mask begins killing everyone and documenting the carnage. Through selfies, of course. As more and more people die, there’s another disaster looming, this one of the natural variety: Hurricane Beyoncé.
Some of us have the distinct memory of weaving up and down the aisles of Kim’s Video– or really, any old-school place of a similar disposition with B-film and cult-movie analogue tapes galore– while an endless stream of campy horror flicks played on the junky old TV set. Did you ever feel a burning desire to run your fingers up and down the spines of those dusty VHS tapes? Then use those same gritty fingers to grab handfuls of mushy bananas and stuff them into your face?
If somehow the answer to this twisted fantasy is “yes,” then you best get over to Terra Firma tonight, because believe it or not all these things will be available to you there, coz lord knows the days of the video store (it’s kind of like Netflix, only IRL) are over and done with. This is where your people are now.
There’s no shortage of indie markets in New York to satisfy any handicraft/artisanal/homemade needs you might have. We’ve got #MadeinBrooklyn affairs like the Maker’s Market and plenty of hungry-foodie fleas such as the Gansevoort Market and the newly restored Essex Street Market. Of course there are the good old seasonal-standbys– Brooklyn Flea and the Renegade Craft Fair– which often feature hundreds of vendors and can make you forget you’re at a mini-bizz event and feel more like a giant mall (with cooler stuff, granted).
But what if you’re looking for something a bit more personal, and just chill?
If watching this dub-step blasting, Benzedrine-fueled trailer moves you toward a migraine, you might assume that you’re too old for Low-Level Festival. I mean, isn’t this the sort of thing you’d find on Snapchat, anyway? What’s it doing on a slow-load medium like YouTube? In a way, you’re right– Low-Level is incredibly future-oriented and nearly everyone involved is so now, in mind and body, that they make Tavi Gevinson look like the Cryptkeeper. They’re hyper-concerned with the latest existing technologies and the kind of people who can actually understand what the last wave of Millennials, or kids born after the year 2000 (i.e. literally cyborgs) are thinking. Of course, that’s not the whole story.
Any discerning boozehound knows that tequila is sooo 2006– the alcoholic drink du jour is tequila’s smokier, sexier cousin: mezcal. And while United Staters’ newfound taste for the spirit may be killing off the very plant that makes it (agave takes a long time to grow– one of the easier varieties reaches maturity after a decade and even then only yields approximately ten bottles), mezcal’s popularity only seems to be picking up. That means that, nowadays, any self-respecting bartender will have a mezcal cocktail or two up their sleeve, mezcal old fashioneds are pretty much standard, and a bar can’t be called complete without at least one bottle of the stuff on-shelf.
There are three things that are really difficult to do in Manhattan (in ascending order): maintaining a bar, maintaining a music venue, and maintaining your weirdo energy. Impressively, Berlin, the Avenue A booze/music bunker, has been doing all three for a year now.
To celebrate, the literally underground spot— known for its musically inclined clientele— is throwing a two-night-long party complete with performances by Berlin’s owner and glammy garage rocker Jesse Malin and his friends.
Dozens of women and femmes will descend upon the Good Room in Greenpoint this Thursday to party until that oppressive cis-white-male toxic-masculinity is done for. Or at least they’re gonna try.
The Femmequerade Ball, a fierce feminist bash filled with DJ sets, performances, and lots o’ partyin’, is the brainchild of Raechel Rosen (aka Mima Good, best known for leading her eponymous witchy music group, The Coven of Mima Good). It’s co-hosted by Brujas, the Bronx-based all-woman skater crew that won some pretty legit attention from a recent profile in the New York Times, as well as an inclusive electronic-music collective known as Sister, and a satirical “art-bro” duo called Hot Schmucks.
Still planning your Parisian summer getaway? You’re just tying up some loose strings before you can split town, right? Something something about misplacing your suitcase again, huh? Yeah, us too. Even if you’re sending out one more search party for your passport holder (never leave home without it!) and are pretty sure you’ll find it eventually– relax, stop making excuses and let Paris come to you!
When America is faced with what seems to be an endless stream of police brutality, discrimination, and gentrification toward black and brown individuals, sharing an article for the fifth time can start to feel fruitless. Those of us who continue to see this kind of gut-wrenching news on our social media feeds can start to wonder what exactly we can do to help.
East Williamsburg’s “DIY-gone-legit” spot Sunnyvale is pulling out all the stops this Sunday—all the lady stops, that is. Their daylong festival, serving as the launch event for new “inclusive community” Brooklyn Women in the Arts, will feature ten bands, two stand-up comics, and two art installations for a solid fourteen individual doses of art to brighten up your Sunday. It’s probably healthier than plying yourself with fourteen individual doses of something else. Hey, it’s cool– everyone’s got their hangover cure!