Chris L hitting up Siren Music Festival at Coney Island!

The Village Voice's Siren Music Festival has been going strong for nine years, and although each of the past three years has been deemed the potential "Last Siren Fest Ever" because of the impending luxury condominium takeover, the third Saturday of July has remained a reliable day of free music, awful (but free) juice, and every type of fried food in existence. The dedicated reader will know that I live in the Bronx. The extremely dedicated, possibly obsessed reader will know that I stayed over in Tribeca the night before this year's Siren Fest. The unhealthily dedicated reader who is also my stalker will know that I had to go back to the Bronx for a change of clothes and also to drop off a big old bag of clothes, and only then take the D train to its final destination. What would compel a man to travel so far? Dedication, friends. To the festival, to the music ... and also to you, dear reader. By the time I got to Coney Island, the festival was half over and I had missed many of the bands I had wanted to see. I headed over to the Main Stage to try to catch the end Frightened Rabbit's set, but as I arrived the band was just finishing their last song. This caused me no small sadness, and I sought succor in swag. I browsed the tents set up along 10th Street, vendors hawking wares free and costly. Games of chance to win logo-splattered sundries. New brands of juice proffered on unwitting passers-by. Each year, Siren seems to play host to a new juice company giving away obscene amounts of its product in the hopes of raising brand awareness. Beverage giveaways are a dangerous thing, though. Parched after my long journey and looking to make my water bottle last, I accepted this years offering, a vile specimen called Vio. This juice, though, was a most unpleasant draught. Let's just say that if I were a hare, I would belong onstage, because I was frightened of this potion (which would make me a frightened rabbit -- hilarious). I will go to great lengths to avoid this carbonated concoction in the future. Speaking of future, the next band I saw was called Future of the Left ! Wow! I didn't even plan that. Talk about synchronicity. These guys are an energetic punk trio from Cardiff, England, and they held nothing back. I arrived about halfway through their set, and though their style does not quite align with my own, they played well, and I can always enjoy frenetic drumming for at least a while. It was too hot for me to get in the center of the crowd, but those who dared were treated to a visit from bassist Kelson Louis Tregurtha Mathias, who made his way past the press pit and barrier and into the crowd during the last song. And that's always fun. I stuck around the Stillwell Stage for A Place to Bury Strangers [http://www.aplacetoburystrangers.com/, http://www.myspace.com/aplacetoburystrangers], whom I had planned, but failed, to see at least a couple of times before. APTBS are another trio, fronted by Oliver Ackerman, the founder of effects pedal company Death By Audio, which has been patronized the likes of U2, Wilco and TV on the Radio. Unsurprisingly, Ackerman makes ample use of his own creations, getting his beat-up Fender to wail, scream, and any other anthropomorphic verb you might imagine. Think Sonic Youth at their most tuneful, or My Bloody Valentine at their fastest tempos. If you dig nasty effects, you'll probably dig APTBS; if you don't, then maybe don't waste your time. Interestingly, their hard-charging rhythm section often sounded a lot like Future of the Left's; the two bands' divergent guitar styles made all the difference, though. The next band, Israeli wildmen Monotonix , http://www.myspace.com/monotonix] are not exactly notable for their guitar style, or even anything much related to their music. They've built a reputation as one of the most outrageous live acts in rock and roll, and on Saturday I witnessed why. They set up their drums within the crowd as a palpable buzz arose from the spectators. The set began slowly, with guitarist Yonatan Gat and drummer Haggai Fershtman playing a dramatic introduction. Suddenly, the band launched into a song, as water flew in the air (usually it's beer, but $5 Bud Light is hard to part with, I guess). Singer Ami Shalev (another trio! wow) was not wearing pants, and after about a minute had no shirt on, either. He spent most of the show held aloft by the crowd, who were, amazingly, unfazed by lifting this man's extremely hirsute and sweaty body. Gat and Fershtman also eventually found themselves playing in the air, as dozens of sweaty arms Iwo Jima'd the drum set and the band members in an impressively cooperative group effort. As I found myself on the outside of the crowd surrounding the band, I noticed the foreign sensation of a breeze against my back. I turned around and realized that many people were observing the madness from a distance. This is the luxury of seeing Monotonix in an outdoor space; at a small, packed club there would be no such respite for the weak-hearted. I have to admit, though, that I myself was somewhat yellow, slipping out just before they finished to make my way back to the Main Stage and try to secure a decent position for headliners Built to Spill . I got as far as the sound tent, a solid spot made possible by what seemed to me to be a rather smaller than usual crowd. Built to Spill had some sound trouble early on, but they played beautifully. The day was coming to an end, and the sun was sinking slowly, bathing crowd and band and park in gorgeous golden light. Airplanes passed silently by in the west, where the sky paled from gold to blue in a sweeping gradient. I felt then that there could be no better place than Coney Island, no better sound than a Doug Martsch solo and a rickety Cyclone roar. Four hours on the subway was a pittance for such a moment.

Chris at the Tenement Street Workshop Benefit Gala!

Tenement Street Workshop Benefit Gala, featuring the Joe Etzine Band and more Let me just get some disclosure issues out of the way here. Tenement Street Workshop is an artist collective co-founded by my brother Patrick. Whew. The honesty feels good. This is what good journalism is all about. Anyway, this event found me once again enjoying an evening of culture on a New York City rooftop, this time in Brooklyn. Tenement Street Workshop is a new artist collective that was created with the aim of fostering all kinds of artistic expression, from theatre to music to pizza-making (my contribution). To that end, the founding members put together a benefit gala (don't be fooled by the fancy connotations of that word -- plaid shirts and cutoff jeans were at least as welcome as blazers and pocket squares) with two new, original one-act plays, along with musical performances by the Joe Etzine Band ; Hillary Johnson , and J.J. Gluckman. There was also wine. And, friends, it flowed. Before we get to the wine, we had to get to the roof, however, and it was a bit of a trek, especially with the L train's being replaced by a shuttle bus east of L orimer St. I was also carrying a big old box of brownies (homemade, with walnuts!) to give away along with the wine -- not exactly a common hassle when I go to shows. The space, though, was awfully swell, with sweeping views on all sides made more wonderful by the absence of the predicted rain. After the first play, the one-act "Rubble," a post-apocalyptic comedy written and performed by students in Carnegie Mellon's BFA program, the first musical act, J.J. Gluckman played an acoustic set. Since it was acoustic, and on an enormous, windy rooftop, the sound wasn't great, but I appreciated having a little musical accompaniment to my red wine-and-brownie-filled intermission. The next play, "Tales of Brave Ulysses," was a "rock-opera movement piece" that retold the classic Odyssey legend using Cream music performed by the Joe Etzine Band. For whatever strange reason, this was the third play I've seen in the past year that has been based on Greek myth. The stories never get old, though, and the approach was fresh enough to overcome the obstacle of everyone in the audience already knowing the story by heart. It didn't exactly hurt that the band was just bad as hell. Uh, that was a compliment. During the play, of course, they only played Cream songs, but judging them purely on execution, I was impressed. Dave Levy on trumpet used some sort of crazy wah-wah effect that made his horn sound like Clapton's Gibson, and Mr Etzine h imself added guitar flourishes that complemented excellently the actors' movement and dialogue. In fact, the band as a whole played its auxiliary role well, supporting the action onstage (well, there wasn't really a stage, but you know what I mean) without overwhelming it. After the play, the band played a set of their own material, which veered into more improvisational territory, jamming at length on jazzy cuts with just enough blues-rock influence to remind me that they were the same band that had just torn through "White Room" and "Tales of Brave Ulysses." I'm not sure how often this group plays shows -- they're all still students as far as I know (and at different, non-NYC universities, no less) -- but hopefully it's soon. Besides the Joe Etzine Band, Hillary Johnson also played after the play. Her songs are piano-based, but since getting a Steinway & Sons on the roof would be awfully problematic, she opted for the acoustic-guitar approach, running into some of the same windy rooftop-related obstacles as Mr Gluckman, but gamely carrying on. Go on to her MySpace page for a stark cover of Marcy Playground’s “Sex and Candy.” Because if there’s one thing that I condone, it's stark covers of Marcy Playground's "Sex and Candy."

CHRIS LETTERII IS BACK WITH A NEW POST!

HEY HEY HEY!!! Oscar D. Meany here more Chris Letterii goodness! I cannot stress how excited I am whenever we get a new story from this cat. Some people like music, this guy LIVES it. I wish I had this kind drive to be out there, night after night... ;) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Real Estate, Air Waves, the Beets at Bruar Falls Hoo boy. Before we get to the meat of this tale, I'll tell you a little story about the bus. I MTA Tripplanner'd (http://tripplanner.mta.info) the fastest way to get to Bruar Falls, the new(ish), Cake Shop-affiliated venue in Williamsburg, and I was directed to take the Bx19 to the 5 train to the L train. Sure thing. But then, after ten fruitless minutes, the Bx19 came -- out of service! And our new lieutenant governor is a former MTA chief? After this bus debacle, I can't say I trust him. I made my way down eventually -- finding an alternate route through the sheer force of my own wits -- but the hurt was already deep. I got to the venue at a quarter past nine, expecting to have missed Real Estate, who were scheduled to open the show at 8:30. Here's where the story takes a turn for the happy -- the show hadn't started yet! Thanks for waiting for me, Bruar Falls. It was probably a good call on their part, as the concert space in the back of the bar (cordoned off by just a curtain, so if you didn't feel like paying the $7 cover, you could still hear the music) was far from full even when Real Estate started setting up at about 9:20. In fact, they hadn't even started checking IDs at the door. Take note, astute readers: there's no rush at Bruar Falls. It's all about the experience. The experience began with Real Estate, possibly my favorite band on the bill. Well, it actually began with a Corona, but you're not here to read about my drinking habits (although I do tend to share these details rather often). Their songs, full of delicate, dual-guitar interplay, meander and build to gentle, immediately familiar refrains. Live, the band is not afraid to jam; the end of "Fake Blues" was a particular highlight. Catch them tonight with Titus Andronicus for free at the Whitney Museum, or next week at the Bowery Ballroom with Woods and Wavves (7/15) or Cameo Gallery in Williamsburg (7/16). You've already heard my thoughts on Air Waves , and they were very solid once again. By the time they took the stage, the room was fairly full, which was probably a relief for the bands and the venue, since most of the weekend's hype was around the Captured Tracks/Woodsist Festival (which lost much of its appeal to me when it was moved indoor to the frequently sweltering Market Hotel). Frontwoman Nicole Schneit thanked the crowd for bucking the hipster trend and coming out to Bruar Falls. That's called fan appreciation. Cultivating good will -- savvy move. The dedicated reader will recall that I skipped out on the Beets' set the last time I was at one of their shows. Not so this time. As they hung up a banner that read "We are the Beets. We are from Jackson Heights, Queens" I realized that these guys probably don't take themselves too seriously. When they launched into the snottiest cover of the Beatles' "I Should Have Know Better" that I've ever heard (out-snottying even my snotty-as-hell, preteen brother's band's version) my suspicions were confirmed. Their drummer plays standing up, all three group members shout-sing (suffice it to say that their harmonies aren't exactly CSNY-level) and they invited "the fourth Beet" onstage for a couple songs to provide some accompaniment on the recorder (yes, the instrument that you (and everyone else in the country) had to sort-of learn in 3rd grade music class). This was a savvy move by the Beets, as there is undoubtedly no instrument more crowd-pleasing than the recorder. This has been confirmed by numerous independent research studies. I have to be honest, here, loving readers: I didn't stick around for Grooms. I know I have disappointed many, but I was rather exhausted, the hour was late, and I was facing a 90-minute (at least) commute back to the BX borough. I really do like Grooms and their Pavement-style jams a lot, though, so I have no qualms recommending their upcoming shows at Death By Audio (tonight!) and the Whitney Museum (July 17th, with Abe Vigoda and free!). And I'm sure I'll be back here talking about one of their shows soon. Until then, I salute you. www.meanyfest.com