Audience Review

I walked up to the door of the dancehouse the moment Golem played the last note of their first set. So I interviewed my friends about the opening reception:

“You missed the raspberries,” Sacred Atelier* told me.

“They were the biggest raspberries I’ve ever seen!” his wife, Gentle Airplane*, put in.

Police Octopus* began teaching me how to write Haitian Creole. Mwen is the word for “I.” Wi means “yes” [and is another spelling of the French oui].

I took out a piece of scrap paper to take notes, and on that paper was the word “oophorectomy.” (But I’d forgotten what it means.)

Then Golem began playing again, and I raced inside. They were lustily brilliant!

The key to pop music is the drummer. So I paid special attention to the Golem drummer, who played very simply, speedily, and kept the band on the edge of exhaustion, always.

Golem had none of the sanctimonious, look-at-me-I’m-Jewish! tone of most klezmer revivalists. (Incidentally, I am a Jew myself, if you’re preparing your anti-Semitic accusation letter.)

After the show (but before the encore), I interviewed the violinist, Alicia Jo Rabins:

“How long have you been together?” I inquired.

“Five years!” she answered.

Of course! Spontaneity like theirs does not appear overnight!

Part 2

I must confess that I am anti-Rock. Recently I wrote this essay:

Does anyone else realize that Rock music is deceased? If The Strokes are the best we can do, let’s just pack up all our amplifiers and go home. Recently, I performed in New York City at a club called Piles*, after the band Unsafe Conditions*. This group’s laborious attempts to combine the melodies of The Smiths with the harmonies of Cheap Trick have no meaning in 2008. It’s like watching a priest make sacrifices to the Roman gods (Plutus, Jupiter, Vesta). That religion is dead! Let’s stop pretending!

PS Lately I’m listening to The Soul of Black Peru on cassette: acoustic Peruvian mountain music. It’s better than every emo band plus Blondie!

*I’ve changed all these names.