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I went to see Grasshopper, among other noise bands, again at The Cake Shop last night, and have decided that I can only describe this medium through metaphor. Therefor, I now introduce to you my very first NYCultureblog Poem, Grasshopper on Ludlow Street:

Grasshopper on Ludlow Street
Between smooth jazz and torn steel,
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bending to the will of the wind.

An elephant devours a canary mid-song,
and complains of indigestion.

crystal rims shrill in the darkness
to the accompaniment of chainsaws.

Sound lurches fiercely against the bars of its cage,
crying out that struggle
is freedom.

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Getting Back to the Music
Right around New Years, I discovered and began to use LastFM pretty heavily. I was formerly a Pandora user, but lately, interrupt ads have been really annoying me, so I made the switch.

Now, the two web radio giants certainly each have their strengths, but one of the coolest things I’ve been enjoying on LastFM is the tour tracker. When a group/artist in your library is on tour, you can see where they’re going, which may actually lead to me seeing some live performances for a change.

The first instance of this was a show that I found when adding a song from Mike Doughty to my library. The on-tour tag showed up next to his name, and I thought, “huh, I wonder if he’s coming to NYC soon?” Turns out he’d be in the West Village in just 2 days at the City Winery. Huzzah! I decided I was going, and rounded up one of my more musically inclined friends to accompany me.

The City Winery
The city Winery is, to me, a very strange venue. The places is clearly meant to give the impression of a reasonably high-end wine bar, as evidenced by the drink prices and the seating arrangements, but there is something a little off about this cavernous locale. In any case, it turned out that the only tickets that were affordable at $20 were for barstools along the back of the room, and the drinks started somewhere around $10 bucks. So my friend and I took our seats, ordered nothing and chatted for a while before the show came on.

Mike Doughty and…a Cello!
After an opening act which I frankly didn’t pay that much attention to, Mike Doughty came on. But rather than have some kind of backup band, or playing solo, he chose to bring a cellist with him. It made for some very interesting takes on the old familiar music, especially “Circles” which was a big hit from Doughty’s days as the front man for Soul Coughing.

Doughty and his Cellist put on a good show, but they didn’t even go on until about 10:30, and this is NOT adrenaline pumping club music. Actually, it’s more akin to lullabies, and that combined with the relatively late hour and the drinking I’d done earlier meant that I was all but asleep by the end.

The Bottom Line
Skip the City Winery. I just plain didn’t like it. It was too crowded and open to be intimate, but too expensive and atmospheric to feel comfortably casual. And there are myriad beams and supports that block your view of the stage if you’re there for a show. The multiple plasmas they installed, clearly in an effort to compensate for the poor lines of site, just can’t make up for the fact that it’s hard to see that stage.

As for Doughty, it was just a bad combination of timing and location. Had he gone on 2 hours earlier, and in a venue that’s not quite so…well lame, I’m sure the evening would have rocked exponentially harder.

Back in Brooklyn
Last week I took the plunge and went out to GreenPoint for a show my friends were putting on. Definitely a long trek, and well outside of my current comfort zone, but it was strange how familiar the landscape felt once I got there. I haven’t been back to Brooklyn in a long time, and I’ve never been to this particular neighborhood, but it wasn’t far from where I lived for a short time in Williamsburg. Seems like the current theme of my life is a tendency toward nostalgia, and if that’s the case, then this definitely fit the bill. Quiet streets, low brick buildings, nondescript bars and shops, no discernibly central thoroughfare (to non-locals at least)…all smacks of what I remember from living in Brooklyn in my early New York Years.

In any case, after about a 50 minute trip on the not-so-iconic, and occasionally reviled, J and G trains, I found my friend in the Nassau subway station trying to get some equipment up to the street. I lent him a hand and we got his granny cart filled with amps and other electronics over to the venue, which was mercifully close to the train.

Matchless Performance
The show went down in a bar, Matchless, that has what appears to be a converted garage attached to it. I found that tremendously amusing, and if not ironic, then perhaps post-ironic? A noise show put together by a guy who goes by the handle “Acid Marshmallow” in a venue that is, in actual fact, a garage? C’mon, you can’t make this stuff up!

So you’ve probably gathered that this is all a pretty home grown operation. The guys involved mostly make no money whatsoever off these shows, and sometimes shell out for expenses like transporting equipment just for the chance to play. They’re not really out to hit it big with this particular iteration of their music, I’m told, though I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if they did. They’re really doing it for the love of the art, the practical upshot of which is that to an uninitiated listener (I.E. me) the music can come off as strange and jarring at times. Still there were altogether awesome moments. Let me see if I can even begin to explain…

Charming Snakes with the Electric Trumpet
Grasshopper works with a lot of electronic equipment doing noise distortion with a mix of traditional instruments, and stuff like the electric trumpet, which apparently hasn’t been produced in quantity since the late 70s. Picture a flat, black, foot-long rectangle with a sort of stocky, flat cylinder stuck to the bottom. They also employed what looked like an electric footpedal and what I’m guessing were some sort of synthesizers to modulate and loop the music, though I unfortunately don’t have the background to be certain.

The show started with something that I could most closely identify as snake-charming music, if it were to be played by some sort of industrial robot. The sound quickly modulated from there, and would go on to defy all attempts at description shortly thereafter. As I listened through the 20+ minute long jam, I found my mind putting together new and bizarre combinations of experiences to explain what I was hearing, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t make much sense in retrospective analysis.

Ultimately the music became a very personal experience. The weird cadences were so utterly unlike anything I’d musically experienced before that it forced me into a very exclusive bit of head space, connected to the music and the scene, but also aloof from it. Grasshopper managed to keep up this hypnotic dissonance right through to the end of their jam session, at which point they broke into a new jam with regular brass trumpets building on top of the stuff they’d already looped in the synthesizer. I’ve gotta say…that f*cking ROCKED! I don’t use the phrase “melt your face off” often, but I think the term applies here.

The Bottom Line
The bottom line is, the noise music scene is definitely challenging for casual listeners like me, but there is a lot to it if you give it a chance. Grasshopper is a group composed of two classically trained musicians with something like 5 music degrees between them, so don’t be fooled into thinking that there’s no method to the madness. Just relax and have a pair of earplugs handy, and I promise you’ll hear something unlike anything you’ve heard before.

Hat? Check. Gloves? Check. Scarf? Check! Are you ready for a big bad New York winter? I know I am!

Rumor has it, it’s gonna be a cold one, and since it’s been pretty mild the last two years, I thought I’d download some of my thoughts on New York City for when general winter breaks out the big guns.

First things first though: nostalgia. I remember the New York winters of my youth as being some of the coldest of my life. Seeing the Macy’s windows decked out for the holidays, visiting FAO Schwartz with no intention of buying anything, skating in rockefeller center… All good memories that pale in comparison to the vivid and visceral experience of feeling the bighting wind cut across my face and steal the warmth from my tightly bundled body. Needless to say, good times were had by all on those brisk visits to the city.

Today, winter in the city is a bit different for me. For one thing, I live here now, for better or worse, and there begins a whole world of difference from the jaunts we made from New Jersey in years past. Now there is no escape!

Probably the nastiest bit of work is the commuting situation. We may be relatively safe from the bad driving conditions (read: don’t own a car) but there’s plenty of other things to worry about. For most of us, walking is a mainstay, and that means exposure to the elements during a sizeable portion of our commute.

I just have one thing to say about this: BUNDLE UP!

Seriously, a 10 minute walk doesn’t seem so bad until you have to do it in a 0 windchill. Layering and covering extremities is of course a must. Also, when going to a place you haven’t been before, figure out your routes well ahead of time. It’ll save you that all too familiar pain of knowing you’re two blocks from your destination, without knowing which two blocks it is.

Thanksgiving in New Jersey
It seems that New Jersey has dominated my weekends these last few months, so it was only fitting that I be there for Thanksgiving. I would have flown out to Florida, but with ticket prices reaching ludicrous levels, and the hassle of flying on the holidays, it made more sense to stay local this year. Meanwhile, I had the good fortune to be invited to my very own Morristown, New Jersey to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner with my best friend and his family. Dinner was, of course, phenomenal. Naturally I was sent home with at least twice what I ate at dinner, so I’m still enjoying the leftovers to this day.

But perhaps more fulfilling still, was simply spending time at home. We went for walks around the neighborhood, visited familiar landmarks, and took a ride around and got lost somewhere past Chatham. Eventually we found our way back an hour later, but despite getting completely turned around and wasting that hour figuring out where the heck we were, I couldn’t have been happier. We visited a national park near town and walked around in the woods for a while too. Getting lost in the woods was actually also a lot of fun, especially when I’m so used to being surrounded by tall buildings and pavement. I didn’t even mind when we found ourselves caught in a thick patch of pricker bushes trying to find our way out.

When it comes down to it, I think NJ fulfills my need to not be surrounded by people all the time. Most particularly people I don’t know. In the city, they’re everywhere, all the time. Even if you live alone, chances are you can still hear the neighbors, or at the very least the noise from the street. The luxury of space is almost impossible to find here in NYC, but fortunately for me, release is not so very far away. So I’ll keep crossing the river.

The Homeland
Lately, Saturdays have been Jersey days for me. For all that the city has to offer, sometimes I long for the hills and trees, and hell, even the endless stretches of tangled highway that mark my suburban homeland. Sometimes I just can’t resist the urge to hop on one of those rust-bucket NJ Transit lines or the PATH and return to those familiar places right across the river. So yesterday, that’s just exactly what I did.

Pizza Across the Water
Anyone reading this probably already knows that pizza is high on my list of things to do where ever I go, and no where is that more true than when I come home to NJ. In fact, I’d dare say I find NJ pizza to be of generally higher quality than it’s NYC cousins. So to start off my day in Jersey, of course, I had to get a pie or three.

Star’s Tavern
Star’s is something of a fixture in Orange, a town not far from Newark. I’ve been going there off and on for maybe about eight years now, and surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly!) nothing has changed. The same waitress has been serving up pies here for as long as I can remember, and the pizza itself is a paragon of continuity.

This pizza defies much of my traditional logic on the subject. It’s a thin crust pie, and when I say thin, I mean THIIIIIIN. It’s so thin that most people can put down at least a whole pie, no problem, and not feel sickeningly full after. I don’t usually go in for thin, because it tends to be flimsy, floppy and poorly proportioned, but these pies are nothing of the sort.

Well crisped, they hold together nicely, and the flavor is full and robust. The sauce actually seems to simmer out over the cheese, which is used just sparingly enough to balance everything out. It’s really the perfect fusion of pizza basics, as you’ll quickly learn if you order any kind of topping or deviation from the standard recipe. Go ahead, just try it. I’ve had 8 different kinds of pies at this place, and never one that even compared to the original. It seems that adding even the slightest variable ruins the delicate pizza math that makes these pies so magical. Simply put, if the basic recipe can be improved upon, I haven’t experienced it.

The Holistic New York City
It’s been about two years since I moved to New York City, and in that time I’ve seen a lot. Sometimes more than I’d have liked in fact! But one thing I’d never seen was a little ol’ place called STATEN *EFFIN* ISLAND! Actually, the much more surprising thing is that I’m not even close to alone in this. It seems that virtually none of my contemporaries who live and/or work in the city have been to this “Forgotten Borough.” With that in mind, I’ll start with a (very) brief history lesson compliments of Wikipedia.

Fast Facts About the Fifth Borough
- There are nearly half a million people on this island. That’s about the size of Wyoming for you trivia buffs.
- Staten Island is also known as Richmond County
- But it used to be called Aquehonga Manacknong and Eghquaons by it’s 16th century Lenape inhabitants.
- The island became a part of our fair city in 1898

Island Hopping
One of the major reasons most New Yorkers haven’t bothered with Staten Island is it’s relative inaccessibility. Yes, you can drive there, or take the bus, or walk if you’re really brave or are stranded around the southwestern edge of Brooklyn, but given the average New Yorker’s utter reliance on the subway system, this is by far the hardest borough to reach for most. The only reasonably efficient way to get there is via the Staten Island ferry, which is a trip in itself!

The ferry runs from Battery Park about every half hour, but not necessarily on the half hour as promised. We went on Sunday and with the flood of foreigner tourists staring out in awe at the Statue of Liberty, speaking anything but English, it reminded me of what I imagine the immigrant experience might’ve been like. Except less smelly and arguably more annoying.

Is This New Jersey?
When we disembarked from the ferry we immediately were aware that the 90,000 people on there with us had somehow disappeared. We got turned around a bit trying to overcome my fear of city buses, but once we got on and started into this enigmatic and impenetrable island, we learned that it was actually…basically like New Jersey. There were trees, and grass, and roads that twist and curve over rolling hills instead of going in straight lines! And those roads, do you know what they did? They took us directly to pizza.

Joe and Pat’s Pizzeria
Right off the the 61 bus is a Pizzeria call Joe and Pat’s, which was honestly well worth the trip. In fact, it was one of the best pies I’ve had in the city! Fresh, simple, crispy but not crackery, I was really impressed by this unassumingly appointed Italian restaurant. It had all the standard fair, and some specialty pies, and all were excellent. Service was good, and the atmosphere was quiet and inviting. I’d go back, maybe not any time, but eventually.

Satisfying a Craving
On Monday, myself and several friends from work decided to try out a restaurant that I’ve been hoping to visit for quite some time now. L’Ecole is attached to the French Culinary Institute, a highly respected cooking school here in the city. Chefs training at the school spend time at the restaurant, learning on the job, but make no mistake, their skills are already quite formidable. In fact, I was told that a student chef by the name of Patrick Farrell was the person responsible for creating the entire prefix menu that we were served from

The Prefix
Dinner at L’Ecole was served from a four-course prefix menu with an appetizer, main course, sorbet and dessert, all for $40. I’d heard the portions were sizeable, so we all ordered different courses hoping to try a little of everything. I’m pleased to say, we weren’t disappointed.

Among the delicious creations we tried, the soup that was served as an appetizer was by far the most amazing dish. Complex, smooth, rich and delicious, the soup set off an explosion of flavor on my pallet that I won’t soon forget. The downside was that given how rich it was, the portion was perhaps a little too generous. Though we all shared, the people who ordered it has some trouble finish. This was actually true of many of the dishes, though I always say that its better to have too much than too little.

The other highlight in my mind was the duck, which was served in two parts: dark meat on the bone, and light meat breaded and filleted. Both were incredibly tender, and each portion had a distinct flavor which perfectly complimented the dish as a whole.

After the main course, a pallet cleansing sorbet of pomegranate and apple-cider was offered before dessert. By the time the creme broule, cheesecakes and fruit tarts came out, we delightfully full but just to taste the sweet things in front of us was well worth the effort.

The Atmosphere
The decor was simple but elegant, and the service was spectacular. We spent nearly two hours eating, drinking, laughing and never felt rushed or bored. This would be a perfect destination, methinks, for a nice but not totally over-the-top dinner date.

The Bottom Line
L’ecole was exceptional in all respects. I really can’t sing their praises enough. The service was impeccable and the food was five-star quality, while the price was quite modest considering the dining experience. I’ll definitely be back here again when they rotate the menu, which I’m told happens about once every six weeks as new chefs rotate in the kitchen. I suggest everyone give this place a try. I promise you’ll leave with a smile!

I Bleed Marinara
My love of Italian food came in large part from my mother’s cooking, which would seem only natural, IF my mother weren’t 100% Irish… But if you think that ever stopped her from making some world-class meatballs, sausage and pepper sandwiches, or chicken parm, you’d be sadly mistaken mister!

Anyway, since moving to New York City, I can’t get my mom’s amazing cooking too often, but a man still has needs! In my two years of city-dwelling, I have managed to find a few places that satisfy me, but since I live so close to Little Italy now, I decided that this weekend I would explore that neighborhood a bit further.

Just to add some background, Little Italy used to be a significant residential neighborhood for ethnic Italians, but it has lately been encroached upon by Chinatown to the point where it exists along only a few city blocks between Canal and Broome (according to gonyc.about.com).

Il Piccolo Bufalo
Despite the area’s diminishing size, there are still some gems worth visiting. In my humble opinion, Il Piccolo Buffalo is real diamond in the rough. Unlike several other Little Italy restaurants, the staff here is exceptionally friendly and helpful, and the food is excellent. I went there with a lady friend of mine on Saturday, and in this instance, I got a pizza called the Piccolo Diavolo, which is basically a good spicy sausage pizza with hot peppers and capicola. Delicious! And considering the portions and service, very reasonably priced!

Ferrara Bakery and Cafe
Afterwards, we decided to get some coffee, so we headed over to a fairly well-known Italian bakery nearby, called Ferrara. This place is pretty upscale as far as bakeries go. Marble floors, hardwood facades, and suited waiters and waitresses that could easily go serve a high society ball or wedding without a wardrobe change, all come together to make this place a very classy experience. The prices are reflective of this, of course, but once you get a table you can sit and enjoy coffee, dessert or a nightcap in peace and comfort. One thing they most definitely don’t do at Ferrara is rush you, so take your time and relax!

The Bottom Line
The bottom line for Little Italy, in my experience, is this: choose your battles. A lot of the shops and restaurants here have degenerated into tourist traps that get you in the door with sweet promises of authenticity and deliciousity that ultimately don’t hold up under even the most casual expectations. With a little trial and error, however, you’ll find that there are a few places worth visiting, and may find yourself coming back again and again!

My experience with House music is admittedly limited, but this past Saturday I was convinced to go see the stylings of DJ Hernan Cattaneo. We bought tickets online for the show for $30 which felt a little steep, but I was willing to give it a shot, so at 10pm we got in a cab and headed out.

The Mansion is a club in the Meat Packing district that we almost walked right by at first owing to a general lack of signage that I’ve come to expect of trendy Meat Packing clubs, but once we got inside we quickly realized how huge the place was. After dropping coats off upstairs, we descended down to the bar area. Actually, the first bar area was more like a very large anteroom, with the main club area lying deeper in.

After crossing a hallway flanked by flaming beds of stones, we were in the heart of the club. A large bar and a VIP area in front made up the main room, with an upstairs lounge circling the back of the club. Early on, I realized the bar was too expensive for my blood at $10 for a shot and $16 for mixed drink, so I determined it would be a sober evening. I did try ordering a glass of water, but it was crowded, so I waited for about 10 minutes to get a bartenders attention, only to wait another 10 minutes to get it after I’d ordered it, which made my already sober experience just that much more unpleasant.

Upstairs was muuuch better. It was less crowded and had a better view of the DJ booth giving us a good place to settle in and dance, which we did for five hours straight! The house DJ opened, and for the most part was pretty awesome, though unfortunately I don’t know his name. Hernan Cattaneo was also good, and the club’s special effects kicked into high gear for his performance with strobes, giant jets of fog, and dancing girls in their underwear. He did nearly make my ears bleed with about 2 minutes worth of straight feedback noise, but otherwise the entire show was spot-on.

The bottom line is that this club is way too expensive to go to unless you really love house music and a club scene with perhaps a touch of euro-flavor to it. The tickets weren’t cheap, the drinks were egregious, and the VIP area was bottle-service only with $1000 price tag attached. That being said, if you avoid the expenses and stick to the balcony area, you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t recommend this spot though, unless you have a very specific reason for going.