Now that it’s officially summer, we’re in for three-plus months of beach reads, beach bods and, of course, beach bands. After that explosion of nautically themed band names in the ’00s (think Beach House, Beech Creep, Surfer Blood, Shark?, etc.), “beach” band is a confusingly crowded field of surf rockers and lo-fi experimenters and everything in between. Don’t panic, though, we’re here to help. To keep you from looking like a shoobie when the conversation turns to music at the next bonfire singalong, we’ve broken down two Beach bands with upcoming shows that you definitely don’t want to get confused: Beach Slang and Beach Fossils.
Look, we don’t blame you for spending all your time worrying that Donald Trump will win the election and then rip off that Boehner-hued mask to reveal he’s actually an electric-orange lizard person. But if you really care about the future of the country, you should be aware that tomorrow, Tuesday, June 28, is the New York State Democratic Congressional primary.
Amidst all the pigeon poop, garbage juice, and sundry other mystery substances littering the streets of New York, there are actually some hard-working people out there trying to make this city just a teensiest bit nicer. Sure, you could go the ad-hoc route like this artist who leaves gold spray-painted trash bags lying around. Or, go the way of the city’s Department of Transportation and commission artists to unleash the pretty. Williamsburg is the new recipient of one such beautification project, with a massive painting adorning the ground of Ascenzi Square, in the triangle formed by Roebling Street, Metropolitan Avenue, and N 4th Street.
As a work-resident of Greenpoint, I feel lucky that I can reap the benefits of the neighborhood without having to pay the increasingly steep average rent. My existence up here is dependent on a fair amount of lying to myself– that I can afford to eat at the nice restaurants here (false), that the nice people who work in the hip boutiques actually believe I’m going to buy something this time around (so false). But what really charms me about the neighborhood are its eccentricities– the picture window on Franklin decorated neatly with dozens of bobble heads gyrating in unison, the Polish bars where you can bet there’s a strange scene going down or at the very least some $1 Jell-o shots to pick at, and of course the ancient bag lady who shuffles along Manhattan Avenue screeching in a mix of gibberish and maybe Old Church Slavonic, sometimes disappearing down into the subway or inside an apartment, knowing that she can safely leave her bags and carts anywhere she pleases.
After more than 16 years in Williamsburg, bookseller Spoonbill & Sugartown is opening a second store in not-so-distant East Williamsburg. The new location, in the front half of the Montrose Avenue storefront currently used as the bookstore’s warehouse and office space, will be open Friday through Sunday, starting today.
So what’s a socially conscious individual to do? If you’re self-described “female secret society” GRLCVLT, you invite everyone to an open-bar blowout at Holyrad Studio in East Williamsburg, featuring live performances by local act Edith Pop and comedian Lane Moore’s band It Was Romance. Throw in a letter-writing campaign to unseat Judge Aaron Persky, and it sounds like your typical Wednesday night, right?
Later on tonight, you might be brushing your teeth and instead of that familiar googly-eyed likeness staring back at you (everyone has that problem, right?) you’ll see nothing less than an animal abuser, or perhaps even a slave owner if you choose to be really honest with yourself. Your French bulldog Greg will suddenly seem like a sullen prisoner in that skin-tight raincoat you force him to wear on the reg, even when it’s a cloudless, sweltering 90-degree July day and he’s emitting piercing, parrot-like screams as he struggles to escape. And those Bob Evans sausage griddles you chased with a tall glass of heavy whipping cream for dinner? Well, your Wienerwurst Wednesday tradition might seem, suddenly, very disgusting.