Sarah and the search for the perfect indie boy

Art Scene: Weaver weaves hypnotic show

One-third video, one-third story-telling and one-third craziness. Performance artist Deke Weaver '85 performed his The Ghosts of Prague Wednesday night in Kresge Auditorium. Weaver fused video segments with animated monologues of exaggerated life experiences.

Art Scene: Sarah surveys Portland galleries

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Yes, I love naked people in art!" Well don't we all, but you won't find it here, or at least not entirely. Naked is a group show of works on paper such as drawings, photographs, etchings and paintings by over 30 artists from both Maine and New York. June Fitzpatrick writes in her description of the show, "All works chosen exemplify states of exposure and vulnerability or are in themselves naked or bare or stripped down." Some of the subjects of the work reveal naked bodies, while other pieces reveal a side of the artist that is usually concealed, such as sketches or plans for a larger work. This concept breaks down the idea of what naked means. The artist can expose him or herself through revealing a side of his or her work not normally shown, or can just reveal good old fashioned flesh.

Art Scene

Sarah and the search for the perfect indie boy

October 22, 2004

The lights went down while a hooded figure stood on top of the drum kit with his back to the audience on Wednesday evening at Irving Plaza. The bass player began plucking the dance beat and everyone started moving. Moving Units was opening The College Music Journal Marathon with their rapture-esque rhythms fused with the rock band mentality.

The CMJ Marathon took place in New York City October 13-16. Over 60 clubs in Manhattan and Brooklyn play host to indie rock's elite musicians and record label showcases. With the luxury of a CMJ badge I was able to go from venue to venue throughout the four-day festival, allowing me to check out over 20 bands. But when it comes down to it, a show is a show, and I had another mission in mind. They were wearing tight pants, vintage t-shirts, and had meticulously scruffy hair. I was surrounded by indie-rock boys, and I was going to find the perfect one.

Irving Plaza is too large of a venue for me to make the most of my flirting skills. After Moving Units' set I hopped on the nearest subway down to the Bowery Ballroom. I got there just in time to catch the last two acts of the early showcase with the French Kicks and the Decemberists. The French Kicks are a rock band whose singer sounds like he used to work in an airport lounge, while the Decemberists create indie pop ballads with elaborate story-telling lyrics. But I prefer boys with more of an edge, so I stuck around for the late show with the Donnas.

The late show was running, well, late. Around 2 a.m. I was half passed out on the couch in the lounge when an internet designer with long gray hair decided I looked like I wanted to make friends. I didn't. But it did give me the impetus to get off the couch and talk to the three guys in the corner who looked particularly rock worthy. It turns out they were in a band called The Lashes. Scotty Lashes, the guitar player, told me they had been on tour with the Donnas and also had some insider gossip on the elaborate drug habits of the Libertines, with whom they had also played. Perhaps this was my hipster soul mate, just in case I gave him my number. At 3 a.m. the Donnas took the stage, with an electric set of rock riffs and sex appeal. It was the ideal end to a successful evening.

The highlight show of Thursday night took place at the Coral Room, a nightclub complete with mermaids swimming in glass tanks, the perfect environment for electro-trash groups like Baby and Har Mar Superstar. This also means skinny boys dressed in black, and I've always had a soft spot for heroin chic. Baby sounded like the Scissor Sisters with some tired Vegas cocktail waitresses as back up singers/dancers. In other words, I spent that set at the bar in hopes that someone would buy me a drink. All I got was a free glow stick.

While scoping the scene, a man dressed head-to-toe in black with the best just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-totally-hair-sprayed head I had ever seen came up to the bar next to me. It was Nick Zinner. For those of you not familiar with this prince of the New York underground, he is the guitar player for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and also produced Har Mar Superstar's new album, The Handler. He sat down on one of the plush couches lining the walls. Some greater force took hold as I felt myself walk over and sit down next to him. "I think your outfit needs this glow stick," I plainly stated to the hero of hipsters. "Hey, I was looking at the glow stick," Zinner replied. "Well you can have it," I encouraged as he took the glow stick and put it in his shirt pocket. "I'm Nick," he said as he took my hand. "I'm Sarah," I responded, trying to conceal my giddiness with my casually jaded New Yorker tone. At this point one of his friends came and sat down between us, took the glow stick from his pocket and stuck it down the front of her shirt. Well that had me beat, so I went to go watch Har Mar Superstar, who looks like the love child of Ron Jeremy and Richard Simmons, strut his stuff on the stage.

Six bands later and four phone calls from Scotty the guitar player, I finally met up with him at an after party in the East Village. My hopes for a rock and roll make-out session were dashed, however, when I realized that although he looked damn good in his leather jacket, he couldn't hold a conversation. I spent the remainder of the party watching Brian Chase, the drummer from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, interact with the guys from TV on the Radio, while Don Blum from the Von Bondies loitered in the background. It's the perfect photograph, I thought, with my hand on my disposable camera. But it would mean sacrificing all of my cool points. It was, however, the ideal image on which to end my evening. I didn't bother finding Scotty to say goodbye. I'm sure he figured it out. Maybe I wasn't going to find my post punk prince charming this weekend, but it didn't matter, I had more shows to go to on Saturday.

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