Last night was the CITR fundrive finale show. The theme was 90s covers so piles of bands were up there playing a couple of songs. It’s funny the stuff that survives 15 years down the line. By the time I left bands had only played two songs I really liked, El Scorcho (which was sung terribly) and Where It’s At. I recognized a lot of the rest of the songs but songs I didn’t like when I was 15 haven’t suddenly gotten better, just because I remember them.
Also, I think this is where DJs have a distinct advantage. I was hoping for interesting covers and reinterpretations and stuff because I’m used to mashup type juxtapositions. The very first guy did a novel interpretation of that Chumbawumba song all slow and mournful with lots of distortion on the guitar. It’s too bad he was so terrible. But that’s why he was first, I guess.
The evening wasn’t a total loss. I read a great Samuel R. Delany story, Star Pit. It’s about freedom and being trapped and being able to leave and the psychopathy of those who get to see everything. I was happy to find a pillar with a light at the Biltmore so I didn’t have to stand around awkwardly listening to music I wasn’t that into.
