Saturday, July 23, 2005
Southpaw and Magnetic Field, Brooklyn, New York

Jet Setting Rock-n-Roll Motherfucker that I am, I planned on flying into NYC early Saturday morning and exiting early Sunday morning for one reason only: to scratch "Seeing Teengenerate Play Live" off of my To Do List. Sure, I would've liked to have caught the Zero Boys (and early reports upon landing confirmed their greatness), but the rest of line-up of the previous two days consisted of bands I like a lot but have seen before and bands I couldn't give two shits about. So I decided to not put the TB travel fund into the red too much and go for the quick hit and run.

Jeff Novak OMB by Icki

After setting down at La Guardia, I took various modes of public transport into Manhattan and summoned the TB staff for the mandatory hot dog excursion. Icki, Greenback, and The Internet's Jesse all responded to my TB cattle call and we footed it to Crif Dogs. Cardwell and Lastname were licking their wounds from the previous night, and did not attend (although stories led one to believe Eric had the best time out of ANYONE in NYC Friday night). I will tell you this: believe the hype about Crif Dogs. Delicious. Their BLT dog is in my top three Best All-Time Hot Dogs Ever Eaten. That they also served RC Cola and had 'Shaolin Soccer' playing on the TV while we dined (on a tabletop Galaga console no less!) scored them huge ambience points. If Hot Doug's did not exist, I would have to declare them Best Indie Hot Dog joint in the USA. Full of bacon and processed beef, we then stumbled through some record stores and street vendors with dreams of big scores, but coming up empty handed until we practically tripped over some sketchy dude selling LPs out of a backpack on the street. Icki immediately pounced on a Canadian press Stooges LP, out-scumming the rest of us with cat-like agility. We all ended up with some other Seventies' standards on the cheap, including Ramones, Lou Reed, Elvis Costello, and Wire OG presses. It wasn't a huge score, but it was cool and unexpected, and further proof that NYC really is the best city in the world. Next stop: Magnetic Field.

Coming off the subway in Brooklyn, we stumbled onto none other than the infamous Bazooka Joe and his better half, Christine Sixteene. Great people. They led us to Magnetic Field, where we found Cardwell posted up on a bar stool, with a two drink head start. I was excited for the show, as the smaller matinee shows have been offering up some great performances on the fest scene lately, in contrast to seeing the same five or six bands at the main shows. Plus, it was my first chance to see both Jeff Novak and King Louie in the one man band setting, and I was dying to see The Scrip+s, whose single I adore. Jeff kicked shit off, and was agressive as hell. He sounded just like the records and when he screams he looks like his head is going to explode. Definitley the real deal, and definitely lived up to expectations. King Louie then took the stage, adding a cowbell to Jeff's kit, and mellowed everyone out (in a good way) with his Kajun melodies. The bottle was catching up fast, but I do remember him playing a lot of hits, and complaining that Jeff's guitar sounded like shit. His performance was definitely conducive to drinking and merry-making. A real good time. Unfortunately the set sent Louie to the hospital across the street suffering from "heat exhaustion". It was ungodly hot in NYC that weekend, believe me. At this point I lose track. Live Fast Die played, and were absolutely awesome. Another unexpected NYC surprise, consisting of Billiams, an Electric Shadow, and a DC Sniper (I think). Their GG-flavored songs were short, fast, and sweet, and I especially dug "You're Not A Dog" with it's "Don't shit where you eat!" chorus. Look out for these guys! Magnetic Field's drink prices were surprisingly cheap, and I somehow ended up on gin and tonics. A band called the Live Ones played, and were pretty forgettable, aside from the fact that they had a singing drummer, and played some wyld New Yawk Gawrage Rawk. Pass. Someone else might have played, I'm not real sure. But I am sure the Scrip+s played, and they killed. Chad was totally out of his mind, and just made a mess of himself. Real NOLA scum-fuckery, including all the hits from the seven inch (which will grow on you faster than chlamydia on a hooker's lip. Go get a copy!), and ended with a stunning rendition of "Japanese Tourist", which had Chad mounting the bar, indulging in some the old self-abuse, and just being entertaining in general. I really wish they'd do an LP. One of my favorite sets of the fest, which was made even better by Chad tongue kissing Lastname, trying to piss on my shoe in the men's room, and grabbing a lot of balls throughout the night. Dude knows how to have a good time. (Right click and "Save as..." to listen to Scrip+s live at Magnetic Field) As we sank further and further into gin and tonic oblivion, Justin from Collectorscum.com spun some amazing punk jams (from the original vinyl, of course) while we chatted the night away. Mitch humored me with "Too Hot for TB" versions of the Short Eyes tour and his plans for global domination, when we realized we might want to get going to Southpaw if we wanted to catch some bands play.


Regrettably, the decision was somehow made to walk to Southpaw, despite the protests from "bigger" members of our party (i.e. me and Cardwell). It took forever, but was made somewhat more forgivable via comic relief from A-Ron and his ass pocket of vodka. By the time we got there, the Shop Fronts were finishing up, but I did manage to catch a song or two from a group I grew to like very much over the course of their singles. I then hit the merch table hard and drunkenly, and found out that beers at Southpaw were about the same price as a new LP. Fuck me. The TB Petty Cash fund went up in smoke quickly, and I exited to the pavement and discovered Dave Hyde. We talked about records. Shocking, I know. I bit the bullet on another beer, and caught Knights of the New Crusade. Whether you like the record or not, Michael Lucas is entertainment personified. They were tight, and actually sounded pretty good in the huge room. I remember running into Steve Strange and he pointed over my shoulder, whereupon I caught my first in-the-flesh glimpse of Fink and Fifi. As fanboy as it sounds, it was exciting just to be in the same room as those guys. As drunk as I was, I almost forgot why I was there in the first place, and the sight of those fine Japanese fellows gave me second wind. Almost. I at least started drinking even more. I'm not sure who was next. For argument's sake we'll say it was The Reatards. The line-up consisted of Jay, Ryan on drums, and Steve Sleaze from Tokyo Electron on second guitar. To say they were amazing is an understatement. No matter what you have to say about Jay Reatard, as a performer he is perhaps the gutsiest going today. He doesn't so much play the songs, as let the hate and fury contained in them just seethe out of his person. It's enthralling to watch a guy pour so much of himself into a performance. They played a lot of 'Teenage Hate' stuff (including "You Fucked Up My Dreams"), and "Blew My Mind" just ripped the lid off the joint. They finsished with a brutal "No One Stands Me", and left anyone who had never seen them before as true believers. No matter what the line-up, The Reatards always kill. A tough act to follow, for sure. Funniest comment: Jay not wanting them to close the curtains before their set because "this ain't no fucking puppet show."! (Right click and "Save as..." to listen to The Reatards live in NYC.) I think it was the Zodiac Killers next, and this was billed as Greg's last ever show, and I believe it was. At least until someone ponies up the dough for an Infections or Rip Offs reunion for some fest in 2007. Honestly, I love Greg and Rip Off Records more than most, but I have to say it was time to call it quits. That last Zodiac Killers' record was the worst thing he's ever done, and his hired gun guitar-dame Ruba Tuesday was one of the most annoying performers I've ever had to witness. She mugged and hammed it up like a high school cheerleader dressed in Hot Topic threads, which insured she got lots of drinks thrown at her. They were a tight unit, but for the last ever ZK's performance I was hoping for a a Greatest Hits package. Instead, we got "Man of Action" and the new LP in it's entirety for the most part. Greg talked less shit than usual, which was a bit disappointing, but he went out like a gentleman. To close it out, he dropped the bass, and sang "Zodiac" and "Sooprize Package". Shit talk the man all you want, but I say thank you to a guy who was making great records when I was still in high school.


At this point the Teengenerate expectation was just dripping off the drunken masses. I copped a quick smoke outside, and mortaged TB HQ for another beer and got in place for the reason we were all there. Behind the closed curtain were Teengenerate, and none other than the Fabulous Andy G introduced them. Fifi then asked us "Are you rock'n'roll stupid?" and then they ripped into "My GTO". I've never seen or felt a place erupt like that. It was like a dream, seeing Fink up there (and I'm a big Fink guy) striking poses I'd only seen in pictures before, and seeing Fifi in a dog collar and New York Dolls shirt before my very eyes. Awe-inspiring. They did "Get Me Back" then "1979", and I remember this very vividly. It was one of the coolest things I have ever witnessed. I could come up with some reason to bitch, I'm sure (no Sammy, iffy sound, too much non-TG material,...) but I really can't say anything bad about it in sincerity. I will always remember those first three tunes from one of my favorite all-time bands. It was beyond description and as awesome as I wanted it to be. After that it turns into a blur. I remember covers, some Firestarter material, "Human Tornado", a Raydios tune, "Dressed in Black" and it being so friggin' intense I actually had to step outside for a song or two to collect myself before I fell over. And they played at least twenty songs, if not more. Just watching Fink up there was worth the plane ride, a total fucking rocker if there ever was one. By the time it was over I was drenched in beer, sweat, and awe. I stumbled outside, and I believe Greenback propped me up against a wall as I slurred about how awesome it was. I think I only fell down once. We hung out until almost everyone was gone, and I finally got to chat with Joe Domino, the guy who started this whole e-zine thing, and that was probably one of the coolest parts of the day. He's a great guy, and I hope my drunken ramblings expressed how appreciative I am for his doing Black Generation for so long, and laying the groundwork for Terminal Boredom. I said goodbye, hopped a cab to the airport, and proceeded to fall asleep and almost miss my flight. I received several elbows in the ribs from the Oriental fellow sitting next to me on the plane home due to my excessively loud snoring. I then drove home from the airport, still half-drunk at 7:00 am, and promptly fell asleep for fifteen hours. Thanks NYC!

Text by Rich Kroneiss
Pics by Mark Murrmann