WIERD Presents a live performance by BLACKBOOTS!

Wednesday, July 27th, 2011

This week WIERD proudly welcomes the weekly party debut of BOOTBLACKs for a live performance at midnight! The band's fiecely handsome swagger, rusted razor blade guitars and wickedly snarling vox with venerably solid roots in both the ever-underlooked early naughts San Francisco scene, and classic Aussie No Wave worlds alike will not dissappoint!

And why is IT that the swagger is so Very Rare today, is IT?, doesn't seem like it to me. As evidenced by Claps' incredible set at last week's party which induced an insane dance-frenzy we haven't seen anything like in a long time, and one in which where the front man undeniably owns IT for 45 minutes, what a night IT was...a radical FTW be-here-now pleasure-in-the-present 2011. "Man they don't make'em like this anymore, fukin hell takes me back damn, this dude's killin' IT", the guy next to me kept sayin over and over. Anyway that 'was' indeed, its over now, and in the era of WIERD-swagger's past circa July 20th.

But it seems the complexities of negotiating the was in music continue to plague and perplex, as post-everything brick after brick continue to fuel the fire. The latest coming a few weeks ago, yet again from a British 40-something, hetero family man tiringly bemoaning current (largely, apparently) American youth's over-sampling the (particularly '80s) past that was...was...his youth...gone.
With the countless cultural studies books, snarky blogophilia Tumblrings et al the past few years by this exact doughy demographic grumpily berating the triumphantly gray decade's supposed influence over the current imagination IT is all becoming quite VRanother issue at hand entirely, and its tempting to see this mentality as perhaps evidence of the the unravelling of the newly christened becoming-middle-age mind, watching the kids across the pond blissfully revel in the house music night on Youtube after paying the babysitter and putting the kids in the unmaniacly calm, quiet house non music to bed. Though I'm repeatedly told by my older Brit VRiends "Mate ya can't understand ya not one of us..." which a few drinks later as always ITs understood the caste system ingenders a complex pathos-fueled relationship to one's Camden and Trafalgar-traversing rememberance of fabulously teased and founcy larger than now-things past...but really, 'caste'dly British or soberly not ITs inordinately intriguing to continually hear that arguably the most fantastically imaginative, explosively and provocatively visual era in pop music's history being newly seen as a liability, and one which when glipsed anew modern youth's undenaible enjoyment is condemned as 'inauthentic'...or in the always brilliant words of the great Omar P. - "Yeah man what the fuck right - OWN that shit fuckin hell ITs theirs from the start and IT ruled!"...mmm hmm. Yet as the WIERD has long postulated owning the mysteries of the IT is VR indeed...

So that not being said precisely to ITself, Sean and I are driving the ever-battered WIERDmobile across the not so Very Rar-id planes of western Indiana last month and I think we made some progress into this ever-evolving narrative when we stumbled upon a group of middle age dads intensely absorbed in the new Spongebob Squarepants Claw Crane game. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Claw_crane. I've always thought that the blatant frustration of losing the (supposedly impossible to win, as all the toys are usually glued together a certain toy-collecting insider has inVRormed me, alas great) Claw Crane game is the perfect allegory of the inherent frustrations of the letting go of one's youth...literally in this case as the brittle little fingers of the crooked claw just barely glaze and slip off of the wildly alive, freshly scoffing (and identically 120 minutes teased-out) neon fuzz on Spongebob, Sandy Cheeks, Mr Krabs and the best of all little Gary : 'ha ha FUH-OFF you OWD MAHN!'..."Damn I was so fukin close that time, lets play again mate!". The thing that has changed in the evolution of this allegorically 'fuzzy' arcade scenario (that ITs only a matter of time til Mike Kelley cum Freudian-crazed inc. 'explore' in the white cube world) is that in the latest version of the Claw Game the glowing red price sticker on the coin slot has been updated to address said negotiations-of-pleasurable-things past and gone above. Where jukeboxes, video games, and other psychotherapeutic negotiating machines used to say 'one play - $.50 / three plays - $1' the same machines have been newly emblazoned with the words 'one play - $50 / two plays $1'...this has got to be one of the darkest shifts in the history of pop-goes-the-world. And not because of the token liberal blah of 'hey wait, thats a shittier deal wtf?' or better yet as it assumes you're such an idiot you can't add, a la 1+1=3, but rather precisely because of how IT harshly, brutally relates to engaging in the exact symbolic act at hand, literally...up, over, drop, grab..."Oooh UGH so close that time fuck..."...Lets play IT again I got another dollar yesss I love this stuff...hey where's the kids honey?!"

So after the again blissful loss of $5(on rememberances of 10 'games' past...VR) we headed over to Arby's 50 feet away..."Hey man you got any cash their CC machines busted, oh bummer"..."Yes hi so IT says a small Coke is $1, how much would two Cokes be?"..."Ugh...two dollars sir...thank you...Now would you be interested in donating a dollar to the our local charity partner Indiana Youth Institute?" VR.

Miz Margo and Frankie Teardrop Spin the WIERD!
Wednesday July 27th, 10pm-4am
WIERD @ Home Sweet Home
(Very Rare live performance by Bootblacks at midnite!)
131 Chrystie St. at Delancy, NYC
Info: (212)226-5708