Propeller Skies

This concert review is a trick. Since I am not a Sean Costello fan*, I did not pay attention. The first part of this review covers the venue and the second installment is about the bothersome fuckers that mill about the dump. In the third part, I finally get around to briefly describing the concert.

I found myself at Northside Tavern, along with recurring Propeller Skies characters The Beaver and Hunt Diddy because one of them is a huge fan of Mr. Costello. Two other non-recurring characters named Vidya and Skinny White Boy were also in attendance.

northside tavern review

Northside Tavern is the most irritating bar in Atlanta. Northside Tavern is a dive with all of the annoyances and none of the benefits. When paying exorbitant prices for beer, I like to have a little bit of motherfucking ambiance to go along with it. Some decent scenery would be nice, too. Northside offers neither, but still charges five dollars a brew. Finally, Northside Tavern is always crowded, making the experience even more unpleasant and getting an overpriced beer is a pain in the ass.

the cocksucking customers

I hate the assholes that hang out at Northside Tavern so much, they get their own goddamn section. Northside Tavern has an abundance of sad perverted drunken older gentlemen who loutishly mack on anyone with a vagina. This causes all remotely attractive women to run screaming from Northside Tavern.

A bitch ass punk I will call Biodiesel is an excellent example of the type of sorry pervert running loose in Northside Tavern. While standing at the bar trying to drink my overpriced beer and get jostled by every fucking person in the place, some drunk ass old geezer wearing a hat emblazoned with “Biodiesel” started hitting on Vidya. This was totally cool with me, I figured Skinny White Boy, Vidya’s boyfriend, would grow a set of balls, whip out a switchblade and cut Biodiesel eventually.

After being bumped twice by Biodiesel I ran out of patience. Unfortunately, I was not drunk enough to knock his fucking teeth down his throat like he damn well deserved. So I distracted him by yelling, “Hey! Look, there’s Willie Nelson,” and gave him a shove. Maryland farmer had no idea what happened. It was pretty comical watching him look around in a daze and wander off to hit on some cougar. But knocking some douchebag’s teeth out is definitely on my bucket list.

sean costello

Had I known it was the last show I would ever see him play, I might have paid more attention. However, I am happy to report there were guitars, drums, bass, and singing.

notes:

* Just because he keeled over at the Cheshire Motor Inn does not mean I am going to start spouting off about what a great blues musician he was. Although it does increase his blues cred 300 percent.
** C0mm3nts are now working again.

The Black Keys were fucking awesome and provided an hour and a half of premium percussion and non-stop guitar histrionics. For those unfamiliar with the band, the Black Keys sound like Junior Johnson sliding a Chrysler Imperial sideways down a back road in the North Carolina Mountains with the revenuers on his tail. Listen for your damn self by visiting the Black Keys Myspace page.

Normally, Opening Bands That Suck™ appear as an aside in the post regarding the band I actually went to see. However, the Black Angles get their very own post because they suck more dick than a ‘ho in a Too Short joint.

Get baked, put a Neil Young album on one CD player, put The End on repeat on another and have a homemade Black Angels experience, without the hassle of driving to a show. I found the Black Angels unbelievably boring and derivative. In contrast, the fucktard UGA frat types standing next to me seemed to think they were great. Additionally, I learned the next day Samantha liked the Black Angels. I highly recommend suicide, if one is forced to attend a Black Angels show.

Upon further reflection, and a visit to the Black Angel’s Myspace page, some of their songs are all right. Bloodhounds on my Trail is arguably their best song and I like it, but it would not be out of place on a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club album. In contrast, Empire neatly condenses everything I hate about the Black Angels into five minutes and thirty three seconds.

I paid a visit The Earl Wednesday night to catch the Silent Kids show. Allegedly, non-recurring Propeller Skies character Natalie was meeting me there, but she flaked after the last minute. Deleted.

opening band that sucks™ - the nevers

The Nevers are from Chapel Hill, NC, and play dreary, monotonous cookie cutter indie rock. I did, however, like the illustrations projected on a screen. I highly recommend The Nevers focus on art and outsource the music.

the internet intrudes on our version of reality

After The Nevers finally stopped playing, I noticed the guy standing in front of me looked a bit like Paulie. However, when I met him at the East Atlanta Beer Festival, I was a bit distracted by Katie from Thomas Creek. I then remembered he wrote about going to see White Whale at the same time I realized who the headlining act was. I introduced myself and we chatted for a bit. It was great meeting him, but he would be upstaged by a smokin’ hot blonde about three days later.

silent kids

I was very disappointed with the Silent Kids show. The band never got it together until the last song. I liked the Silent Kids better as a four piece.

What the fuck is with all the feedback? I don’t see Jim or William Reid anywhere in the fucking building and certainly not on stage.

Silent Kids are not recommended. It pains me to write this, because Tomorrow Waits is a superlative album. Unfortunately, I do not like any of their new stuff.

As they say on the internet, your mileage may very, so pay a visit to the Silent Kids Myspace page. By the way, the songs posted right now are all from the Tomorrow Waits era.

white whale

White Whale was pretty good. There was some nonsense with the lead singer shouting into a bullhorn, but it sounded kind of cool, so I will forgive him. Unfortunately, I am an old man now and left after the third song so I missed the last half of their set. I recommend dropping in on White Whale’s Myspace page.

waterboarding a dead horse

I have beaten this motherfucking horse to death and the critics at Evilsponge have kicked it, drawn it, quartered it, and cornholed the remains. Repeatedly. However, the sound guy at The Earl is still fucking deaf. Michael Oakley’s vocals were buried deeper in the mix than Jimmy Hoffa. I have no idea why Beth Kargel bothered to set up her keys, as no one in the audience could hear them anyway (or her vocals). This is not uncommon, I had no idea how much Joie of the late lamented 3d5spd contributed to the band’s sound until I purchased a CD - her keys were always missing in action at The Earl.

Since people are adding me to their press sections and shit, I need to start writing decent reviews. Motherfucker*. Decent is a pretty high bar, so this concert review will just feature more words than usual. Baby steps.

the set up

In the days of way back, my friend Chris Hoke**, mentioned he would be playing with Envie and I should check them out. I was super enthusiastic, because Envie featured a harp player. I figured the excitement would never end, because harps are just so fucking punk rock. Shit ain’t going to happen. However, because Chris is awesome, and alert Propeller Skies readers have probably figured out I was a huge fan of his now defunct band, I gave Envie a shot and condescended to show up for the concert. Probably this one.

i thought it was the end, i thought it was the fourth of july

Three months ago at recurring Propeller Skies character The Professor’s swank bachelor pad, I met Natalie. We spent some quality time hanging on the balcony chatting about local bands. I got her number and promised to call. Three months later, I finally invited her to a show. By email. Told y’all I was premium.

the sweetloves

I arrived at The Earl slightly early so I could grab a Rolling Rock*** and check out the gateway scenery. While sipping my beer that certainly did not taste fifty cents better, I caught the last few songs played by The Sweetloves. Despite the stupid name, they are pretty good. Sometime during their set, Natalie arrived.

envie’s new guitar player

The last time I saw Envie, Chris was still playing with them. About a year ago, he got all suburban and shit and moved to Birmingham. Hence, Renee found a new guitar player****. While Envie was setting up, Natalie mentioned the new guitarist was dressed like an accountant. I made a snide comment about him being the toast of the water cooler on Monday morning, because he was out playing in a band while all the other accountants were home counting their bean collections.

the envie show, fucking finally

During the first song, I began to suspect the new guitar player really might be an accountant. However, when the band launched into Passage***** I realized he could play. By the end of the show, we decided he really would be the toast of the water cooler on Monday morning.

Seeing Envie live is a treat, because Renee is precision controlled fury. Sort of like a Honda engine in the VTEC range - an exhilarating sense of power, tightly controlled to awesome effect. The only other singer as intense on stage is Sarah Hubbard of Sunday Munich.

A highlight of this show was the crack rhythm section. Kevin Wallace, who alert Prizzo Skeezy readers may remember from such bands as The Sudden Rays and Ruvolo, was holding it down with his usual skill on the drums. Susannah Barnes, who recurring Propeller Skies readers will recall from such excellent bands as The Black Kites and American Dream, was kicking ass on bass.

spare change

Alert readers, if there are any left after all these mind numbing words, will note that Envie’s non-performing member, Michael Overstreet, has been left out of this ridiculously fucking long review, so far. I suspect Michael writes lyrics, but I am too lazy to check the liner notes and find out for sure. Spare Change is my all time favorite Envie song, because of the premium lyrics. If Michael happens to also write things other than songs, I would appreciate more info via the comments section.

buy an envie cd

All five Propeller Skies readers are strongly encouraged to purchase a copy of Envie. Cheapskates can visit Envie’s Myspace page and hear some tunes for free.

notes:

* This does not mean I am not flattered.
** Guitarist and lead vocalist for legendary Atlanta band Thrizzle Dizzle to tha Fizzle Speezy.
*** I am not happy The Earl has raised the price of Rolling rock by fifty cents a bottle. Fucking gentrification.
**** Chris still plays on the album, which all five Propeller Skies readers should buy.
***** I think that was the second song.
****** Fuck all these words. This shit takes too long to write. We now return to our regularly scheduled two line reviews.

The Magic 8 Ball® fucking owns. I was half asleep on the couch about to skip the East Atlanta Strut, because Dip N Steam were only scheduled to play for twenty minutes. However, I asked the Magic 8 Ball® if I should go and it responded, “outlook good.” So I got off my lazy ass and attended a premium show.

afar

I arrived in time to catch Afar tuning up - recurring Propeller Skies readers will remember them from the Apache Cafe. For those not in the know, Afar consists of some bad ass musicians and one hell of a drummer. Afar jammed for a bit and played some funky shit. While they were playing, a yuppie looking white guy on a vintage style bicycle rolled up and started dancing. While still on the bike. Funny shit.

Afar is totally bitchin’ and all five Propeller Skies readers should catch a show. Until they play out next, have a listen at Afar’s Myspace page.

do not sleep

Dip N Steam were up next and were joined by Jaha for their first two joints. Jaha added another dimension to their sound and blended well. For the third song, Afar and D.N.S. played a mean motherfucking version of G.U.M. - way different than the version on Dip N Steam’s Myspace page. During the performance, recurring Prizzo Skeezy character Big A pointed out a drunk guy dancing behind the stage. Go to a D.N.S. show.

Jaha

As per usual, Jaha was excellent. His stuff is so powerful that a woman started dancing with the aforementioned drunk guy who had come around to the front of the stage. Sample his premium tunes on Jaha’s Myspace page.

notes:

* Just to be clear, I fucking hate Myspace. The service is overrun by worthless pikers like fourteen year old girls, pedophiles, and other douchebags, all of whom lack the basic skills to write sentences resembling grammatically correct English. Do not get me started on the hopelessly retarded lack of spelling. One would think News Corporation would have the resources to code up a damn spell checker. Additionally, the motherfucking ugly goddamn templates make my retinas bleed. However, Myspace does provide one useful service - it is an excellent platform for underground artists to spread their music. Hence the links.

Last Thursday, I paid a visit to the Apache Cafe to see Dip N Steam perform. Upon arriving, I wandered in, sat down at the bar, and ordered a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. While sipping my fine hand crafted brew, I observed the waitress was hot. However, they should consider feeding her once in a while. About halfway through my beer, recurring Propeller Skies character Big A showed up and we chilled at the bar. Just before Dip N Steam went on, a dude who would be a recurring Prizzo Skeezy character if he came out more than once a year - Teezy - arrived.

do not sleep

For this show, Dip N Steam were backed by a live band. When I first heard about the live band, I was skeptical. After they opened with G.U.M., my suspicions were laid to rest as the band was pretty damn good. The rest of Dip N Steam’s set was excellent, but more vocals in the mix would have been nice. Hear their joints for your damn self at Dip N Steam’s Myspace page. I highly recommend Dip N Steam.

jaha

After Dip N Steam played, some dude named Jaha that I had never heard of went on. I dug his chilled out sounds. To my one New York City reader, I highly recommend catching Jaha. Everyone else can hear him at Jaha’s Myspace page.

I saw the Nightporters at The Earl Saturday night. They played a smashing show.

Several characters in the crowd provided additional entertainment throughout the concert. A cocaine fueled guy who danced like a demented Napolean Dynamite was fucking hilarious. I have no idea how this dumbass managed to remain upright. Several straight white people also attempted to dance. I thought the uncoordinated choad next to me would go through the floor, he was hitting it so hard.

Eventually the lead singer announced the group was out of tunes and was going to fuck around. After a cover I did not recognize, the band brought a woman from the audience on stage and played a slamming cover of Angel of Harlem with a nice little jam at the end. Next, some drunk dude who obviously knew the band members from the days of way back attempted to sing lead on a cover of Gloria. As he could barely remain standing, this was some funny shit. I was waiting for him, the mic stand, and an unlucky band member to go crashing off stage and into the monitors. Somehow, he remained upright and there were no collisions.

While at the performance, I snapped a few shots for Aspherical. Enjoy this photograph of a woman shooting video, and this shot of a woman taking stills.

Friday night I drove down to The Earl to catch Psyche Origami. When I arrived, several dozen people were standing outside on the sidewalk and no one was being allowed in. I assumed the show was sold out, but upon inquiring, I discovered the Fire Marshall had cleared everyone out of the venue. Apparently the owners of The Earl donated to the wrong mayoral campaign and now the powers that be are exacting revenge. Alternately, the neighborhood association may be behind this, as there has been a long running disagreement over the nature of the mural on the side of The Earl. Additional conspiracy theories are welcomed via the comments link. I do not recommend the City of Atlanta.

Friday night I paid a visit to The Earl for the second time this week to see Tiger! Tiger!, one of my favorite bands. The show was untouchable. From the moment they stepped on stage, the band was on fire. Because Tiger! Tiger! is hotter than a Cleveland Steamer, I highly recommend that all five Propeller skies readers catch this band.