On Wednesday and Thursday of last week, the Lower East Side had a gun store at 149 Orchard Street. The front window of GWH Gun Shop beckoned: “First-time gun buyer? We are here to help you.” Inside the small storefront a friendly salesperson asked about prospective buyers’ gun needs and showed off a few models.
Don’t miss the first slam of Urbana’s last quarter — get your points now if you want to be on the 2015 slam poetry team, or just sit back and watch the competition and a feature by Zork, eleven-time national slam poet competitor and author of the book I Am NOT a Poet. Urbana, now in its 14th year, describes itself as “an eccentric and quirky” competition welcoming of all poetic voices, so don’t be scared to give it a try.
Tuesday, March 17, 7pm, Sidewalk Café, 94 Avenue A, East Village
The She Shreds showcases at SXSW (March 17-20) have a reputation of being (as we used to say in Texas) knock-down drag-outs—shows you get to for the first band and stay until the last. That’s a sterling rep at South-by, with its zillion bands, impromptu venues, and frenetic/eclectic lineups. We’re excited to see how it goes down this year, culminating on March 20 with She Shreds in partnership with Tom Tom.
A great green reckoning descends upon the city today. The bars will flood with stumbling, shouting multitudes. Faces will flush red behind oversized shamrock glasses. People will fake accents. As an Irish kid from Boston, I know better than to venture into the city on St. Patrick’s Day. You stay at home, your mom makes corned beef and you drink your dad’s beer. Maybe your nine uncles come over and tell really long jokes. In the event, however, that you are determined to hit the streets, we’ve decided to make it a little easier on you. We’ve compiled a list of Irish pubs in the East Village and Lower East Side and judged them based on everything from the likelihood of getting corned beef to the likelihood of having a co-ed spill a neon-green cocktail on you.
Blood Orange isn’t the only innovative electronic artist and producer holed up in the East Village: a new documentary that premiered at SXSW last night, Hot Sugar’s Cold World, takes us inside Nick Koenig’s 14th Street loft as he repurposes the street sounds he obsessively records all over the neighborhood and the world. Produced by Danny McBride and Jody Hill and directed by Adam Bhala Lough (who has previously made documentaries about Lil’ Wayne and Lee Scratch Perry), the film starts with Koenig (aka Hot Sugar) recording a woman eating Pop Rocks. The end credits list every other sound that he documented for the film: everything from a cop sipping an energy drink, to Jim Jarmusch playing some electronic drums, to a couch being pushed out of a seventh story window on the Lower East Side.
The owner of Action Burger in Williamsburg released footage of two teen girls fighting outside its doors last November. [NY Daily News]
A woman assaulted a 33-year-old male employee of the Whiskey Ward last Sunday morning, the police say. The fight at the rather innocuous Lower East Side bro bar came after the two got into a verbal dispute. The man asked the woman and her male companions to leave the bar (last call, c’mon), a request that she met by allegedly bashing the dude over the head with a glass bottle. We’re guessing he didn’t say please.
It looks like Bushwick-based supernatural comedies are officially a thing: first there was last year’s vampire flick Summer of Blood and now, showing at SXSW this week, there’s newcomer Ava’s Possessions, about a young woman picking up the pieces of a demonic possession that drove her to attack a bunch of people.
Anyone who bemoans feminist discussions for being stuffy, crunchy, woolen affairs is not only looking for a swift punch to the nethers, they’re also dead wrong. A panel held last Thursday at the Brooklyn Museum challenged the Portlandia image of feminism and witnessed several women being their badass selves, see: Lydia Lunch’s impassioned spoken word about race riots and abuse, Narcissister’s short film in which she plays a topless Little Red Riding Hood who “rides” the Hunter, and Johanna Fateman’ trademark Valley Girl diction. Unlike that introductory Women’s Studies course you took as an undergrad, “I Will Resist With Every Inch And Every Breath: Punk Rock And Feminist Art” (named for the Bikini Kill song above) was pretty freaking rad.
On paper, Hello, My Name Is Doris reads like a screwball comedy: directed and co-written by Michael Showalter (Wet Hot American Summer, The State), it’s about a hoarding spinster who works at a hip clothing company called Northeastern Apparel (get it?) and gets embraced by Williamsburg hipsters in much the same way the hero of David Cross’s new movie, Hits, does.
If last year’s SXSW darling Fort Tilden was an Instagram snapshot of Williamsburg as it was present-day, this year’s oft-listed Creative Control shows us Williamsburg five minutes in the future, in crystalline black and white.
There’s a scene in Breaking a Monster, the new documentary about Brooklyn tween metal sensation Unlocking the Truth, where the band is recording its first single following a $1.8 million record deal. Manager Alan Sacks refuses to give frontman (er, frontkid) Malcolm Brickhouse more Coca-Cola and is eventually forced to pour a two-liter bottle out on the street as if flushing heroin down the toilet.