Location: (1) The Boris Kar-Loft; (2) Berlin
Bands: (1) Waterbabies, Brenmar Someday, and Run 184; (2) JD Samson & Johanna Fateman, Greg Haus, Heather Doble
Cost: (1) $5 (2) $10
Things I missed to be there: The only worthwhile jam was a Skeleton News benefit at the Junk Shop featuring Tight Phantomz, Brett Gand is Dead, Eric Ziegenhagen, and a puppet show; I also missed the Belmont and Sheffield Music Festival and the Switchyard Fest with Bob Mould and the Wrens, the Pride Parade and the Dyke March
Reason I went: I was looking for something for something to do after work one day and before work the next
The last time I went to the Boris Kar-Loft, it didn't have a name yet, let alone the best name ever. It was just some dance-party at some awesome, run-down old loft that was too dark to tell if the dark spots on the wall were black mold or someone painting with fire. Now, they're having like one or two shows a week.
When I got there, some guy whose name, I believe was Run 184, was flooring the crowd with a synth-and-drums cover of Smashmouth's "Walking On the Sun". His one-man-band dance set had people coming and going, but ironic-minded 90s kids were glued to this like a trainwreck.
In the interim before his dual set with Waterbabies, Brenmar played some mash ups while a bunch of televisions showed one of the boring-er scenes from Tim Burton's Batman. He was building up for Waterbabies, Hunter Husar-s Mahjongg side project (along with a half dozen other semi prominent local noiseos, that is), whose sound is kind of an electronic tribal jam. It was so good, it knocked out the power (three times). The first time, the power got cut, and switched on again, the band came back with a fury, blowing away anything that they'd been doing prior, but the secnd time, the mood kind of changed; all the people who'd bee playing electronic instruments started banging on drums, which kept people going until the lights came back, but the third time, it was pretty much over. Some people grumbled about the ferocity with wich door charge was checked, and some people left sated, onto home or the next jam.
I was a little awkward though. I had been the whole night, especially before my friend gave me a few swigs of Old Granddad, but I wasn't able to put my finger on it until a friend took me to berlin the next day, to hear the non-Kathleen Hanna members of Le Tigre spin.
My friend used to do a show there with her partner (life-partner, that is, in a much realer way than they were clubnight partners). She paid my way, because I think she wanted a friend there, to be near her while everyone asked her where her ex was. She wasn't there to dance though, just like I wasn't there to shmooze/reconnect with old promoter friends, so when they all showed up and gathered around her, well dressed, beautiful and, inordinately, tall, I had nothing to do but dance or get out.
I did a quick look around for a dance partner.There were people I recognized, the usual suspects of writers and photographers, but no friends, and I didn't have the balls to dance, just like I didn't the night before.
It's not really something new, but more something that's always been there. Without a posse, I feel ridiculous, like someone who doesn't fit in, like an object of invisible ridicule. I don't know how true it is, if it's a sign that I'm getting older, or just something I need to recognize and overcome.
I'm having a very low-confidence time right now, and I don't like it.