Damn Dirty Hippies
Christopher Weingarten wrote:
[I know I never email any of you with anything of importance about life up here in the big city. So, in that grand tradition, here?s an exceptionally long, pretentious piece of twaddle regarding last night?s Oysterhead show at the Roseland Ballroom.]
New Oyster Cult (or 'When Counter-Cultures Attack')
For those not in the know, Oysterhead is the new Traveling Wilburys for obnoxious suburban white kids ? featuring the insane talent of Stewart Copeland (Police), Les Claypool (Primus), and Trey Anastasio (goddamn fucking Phish). They play G?Ville on Sunday and I highly recommend checking them out.
At Roseland Ballroom in New york last night?.
The audience was split into two camps: Phishheads ? patchouli-reeking hippies with equally reeking hair, some of whom, I swear to God, referred to the band Widespread Panic simply as ?Panic? in converstation. Les Claypool fanatics ? lonely, mildly disturbed white guys who wear Ween T-shirts who secretly wished for a slam pit.
I guess you know by now where I fall. (BTW ? I was outnumbered at least 3-to-1). The occasional middle-aged woman there to see Stewart Copeland also walked around aimlessly, and was the only member of the demographic that didn?t piss me off immensely.
I hate hippies. I?ve never been to a hippie show apart from the ass-end of a G-Love gig and countless Unkle Funkle and Nine Miles shows. But now I really fucking hate hippies. All of ?em.
Here?s some reasons why:
1. They smell. (I hate to come bursting out the gate with the obvious, but I have a lot of work to do today, and can?t spend every moment filling my writing with the pseudo-intellectual bullshit you guys have come to expect from me. If you want that, go read my Freestyle Fellowship review, available now on CMJ.com)
2. They dance at inappropriate times. I mean, it?s cool that they dance. To paraphrase Goodie Mob ? ?they don?t dance no more, all they do is bitch.? I like dancing. But some hippies nearby actually had the nerve to ask everyone to move to give them some ?dancing space.? What is that shit? I mean it?s not exactly asking the audience at a Slayer show to help you look for your contact lens, but it?s still pretty retarded. Also, these girls dance with their eyes SHUT the whole time. Goddamn Stewart Copeland is probably the sickest drummer that will ever kowtow to their bullshit scene, and they can?t even open their acid-addled eyes to witness the ? SPECTACLE. He fucking plays traditional grip, chacho. That ain?t no small feat. And Claypool (I don?t care what these kids say, he was the star of this show) doing that one-legged pogo thing he does, slap slap slappin? away?. Even Trey, with his freakinshly long fingers, had some moves. Open your eyes kids, this ain?t Jefferson Airplane.
3. They?re inconsiderate dicks. The fabulous Mark Ribot opened with his equally fabulous Cuban band (sonos Postizos or something). Some of these hippie turds close to the stage actually SAT DOWN and faced the OPPOSITE DIRECTION! For Mark fucking Ribot! Sliding avant-jazz riffs in Cuban rock. I could have pissed myself right then and there. Ribot kept checking his watch and looking like he was too good for the place. He was.
4. They have to smoke pot all the fucking time. I know why people smoke pot. I grew up in suburban Port Charlotte ? a retirement community. All there was to do there is smoke pot and fuck people. Since I was never interested in drugs, and could never get anyone to fuck me, I spent most of my hours listening to records and hating myself. But these kids are in NEW YORK. And about to see some of the most frenetic rockers alive. Isn?t that enough stimulation? No way, bro, pass that shit. Oh, and I really want to smell that stuff blowing in my face, too. Pot smells like the inside of a bum?s asshole. If they banned cigarettes in these places, the security would have an easier time nabbin? the dopeheads so they can kick them out, confiscate their their shit, and smoke it all themselves after the show.
5. They like Trey Anastasio. They follow this guy around like lost puppies. You know what? He sucks. Les and Stew were the whole show. Trey just sounded like he was doing limp-wristed noodling over L ?n? S?s solid-as-granite rhythm section meltdown. Trey is wallpaper. And these kids ate him up like tofu. I couldn?t even be distracted by his presence. Stew was rocking a bell tree and a wall of PANS for god?s sake. They should abandon this guy and get a true weirdo superhero - like King Buzzo or Eugene Chadbourne. Shit, they?d be better than Cream. ? One of Megan?s hippie friends wasn?t convinced by Trey?s new cohorts and said she didn?t like Oysterhead because they?re too ?weird.? You know, if you live and die by a band like Phish who unashamedly flaunts 30-minutes of guitar solo, mystik bullshit lyrics, concept album chicanery, and bouncing up and down on fucking trampolines during your show only to fly off on the end on a GIANT HOT DOG. Then I think your concept of ?weird? is a little bogus.
6. They say dumb shit. Someone pushed me into a hippie during the show. ?Hey quit it, man! That?s not cool,? he mumbled angrily ?Quit what?? I reply ?Quit pushing me, man,? he said ever angrily-er ?Fuck you. I was pushed by someone else? ?Dude, chill out.? Let me just digress here to say that in the heat of argument, ?dude, chill out? does not work. At all. ?You fucking chill out, asshole.? Luckily, some hippie who actually had actually understood the peace ethic of hippie-ism stopped us before I had to break his nose. Let me digress again to say I?m not a fighting man (being, you know, really weak and a big pussy and all), but I?m sure if I could take anyone it would be a hippie. Or an emo kid. Oh well. This dude will probably grow old and turn his back on his hippie roots and drive a Miata and suck corporate America?s dick just like everybody else. Hey, just like the first hippies did! Let love rule.
This isn?t to say that the other 1/4 to 1/5 weren?t complete and total assholes too. I was ashamed to call myself a Primus fan. (well, I should be anyway. They?re not exactly as hip and ?now? was the Owls or the Moldy Peaches or the Avalanches, but I like ?em, so fuck you) This one fatfuck kept yelling ?Primus Sucks!? a cheer of approval, not derision, amonst Primus fans. And he was just yelling it and yelling it like a total asshole. I had to approach him: Me: Dude, that?s not cool. Him: No, you don?t get it. I love Primus. Me: Yeah, I get it. But we?re at an Oysterhead show.
Man, all my ex-funk-metal heros, (Les Claypool, Vernon Reid, Mike Patton, et al.) are all doing arty shit now. And I followed them because, hey, I do arty shit now. At the Fantomas show, some asshole (apparently thinking he was at a Faith No More show) kept screaming for Mike and then, for some reason unbeknownst to me, started yelling out Wesley Willis song titles. ?I whupped batman?s ass!? ?Rock and roll McDonalds!?
But although the Oysterhead show rocked balls. Trey played a set of antlers like a theremin, Stewart did some King Missile-esque spoken word nonsense ? enthralling me and confounding most hippies (some still danced). Les went thwapthhwapthwapthwap.
My favorite moment was when the ?primus sucks? dude tried to start a mosh pit by barreling through a stack of hippies like a fat bowling ball pummeling a row of stinky pins. He ruined their good time, which was funny. Then he got kicked the fuck out by security, thereby ruining *his* good time. Also funny.
No one aside from ?chill out? guy could ruin my good time. Watching Les and Stew is like watching two cartoon octopuses. And Trey had his moments (a wacky acoustic jazz-rock number that would have Chadbourne, or Ned Davis and Dave Hornbuckle, very proud.)
So see this show on Sunday. But please smack a hippie for me if he/she asks for ?dancing room.?
Ned Davis's reply: God, this is so true. The show last night was probably good, but I couldn't really tell since the ODome sucks the inside of a bum's asshole. I bet it was way impressive in the beautiful Roseland, but it was frankly kind of boring in the ODome -- the bass and vocals were *completely* indistinct, and absent those two things
all you have is fantastic drumming and long, long (but quite skilled) guitar solos.
But those neo-hippies were so totally repulsive! Jesus! I mean, 2/3 of the band ISN'T the dude from Phish, yet the crowd looked to be 80% PhiShitHeads (I just coined that term--don't steal it, EthicsBoy)... That dirty, druggy, noodle dancing was stupid enough in the 60's, people -- but it's actually nearly 2002! Ach, I can't say enough bad things about the dirty, dirty neo-hippies. And really, it's an important distinction: they're not real hippies, since it's the 21st century. Like calling those kids who listen to Blink 182 'punks'...
I mean, it's a shame neither Stewart Copeland, Les Claypool or Trey from Phish can write a decent song to save their lives, but they are all ridiculously talented musicians, and that's why I went to the show. But fuck, if all you want to do is secretly spark up a doob and wriggle, why do you have to do it in front of, beside and behind ME and others who came to actually SEE and HEAR the show? Much like people who carry on extensive conversations with their friends at movie theatres: people, you're not in your living room! (or your lean-to, or hutch, or warren, or microbus...) When 'doing your thing' actively interferes with everyone else's enjoyment, then you're just being an asshole. Even if you're really 'groovy' about it...
Does *anybody* go to shows anymore to actually LISTEN to bands? Crikey, what a crank I've become. And bite my crank, while you're at it...
Paul Miller's reply: I concur and also observed a curious phenomena - because they were skilled musicians, they were able to carefully control the dynamics of the sound - pulling back and cranking up in fine unison (unlike the monotonous opening act)...but the curious thing was the audience response. Granted, we were dealing with a large quantity of drugged (and stinking) hippie wannabes, but any moron should realize the talent required to bring a loud tune down to almost ground zero and still maintain it in this delicate state requires a good deal more effort than blasting out the mean shite. Yet, every time Ohead pumped it back up..."Woooo!!!!!" and more insane noodle dancing ensued! I guess I had too much information and not enough bonghits to fully appreciate the mood of the evening.
PS - Even though you couldn't really hear Les most of the night, what a terrific bass lead during Mr.Oysterhead! and he caps it with that amazing flurious slapping at the end! Stunning!
PSS - Stewart plainly ravaged the zen-like state of the wippies (wannabe hippies...my coin, so FUCK OFF!) with that terrifying spoken piece...I expected nothing less from him and he proves that everyone, including myself, should be given their own microphone.