Tag Archive for 'the strokes'

Julian Casablancas “Out of the Blue” (Live at the Downtown Palace Theater 11.6.09)


*Thanks for Dr. Hughes for the ticket and oOCarolinaOo for posting.

THAT guy

Friday night at the Julian Casablancas show “That Guy” was this guy. His sense of style was the first thing that piqued my interest. Not only the “Pothead” t-shirt, but also the arms full of bangles, his painted nails, red eyeliner and the 9 foot long scarf he wielded like octopus arms throughout the entirety of Casablancas’ show at the Palace Theater.

This guy arrived wasted and alone. He sat down in front of us and within seconds proceeded to tell everybody around him how boring the opening act was.

“Don’t you think they’re boring?” he’d ask randoms and before anybody could respond, he’d again let them know exactly what the opening act was. “Totally fucking boring.”

“These guys are totally fucking boring, right? Totally fucking boring,” he’d say, then calm down, settle in for a few bars before reminding us all, once again, of how fucking boring they were. “Wow! These guys are fucking boring!”

And if anybody was qualified to own this opinion, this guy was.

He may have been rude and drunk and dumb and style-impaired, but one thing you could never accuse him of was being “boring.”

He shouted random shit at random people around us. He weaved between the aisles of seated people striking up random conversations and shooting photos of random shit: strangers and walls, the seats, the floor. He looked confused and lost and stumbled alot. He fixed his hair and mumbled to himself. He offered Blow Pops to strange girls.

At one point I thought he might actually be physically handicapped when, with his entire body defying gravity on a 45-degree funhouse angle, he hobbled the entire length of the balcony to the stairs. His return only provoked more awe when he arrived, miraculously, 10 minutes later walking upright, steady and calm as if he’d just stepped down from his turn on the tightrope.

He spotted Fab Morretti in VIP and took a picture with him, struck up a conversation, and when fans rushed Fab for photos, this guy stood just behind him, calmly tilting his head so his face would end up in every shot, peering out of frame just enough so that it looked unintentional, like he was just hanging with Fab at the show and when some fans came up to take a picture.. The best part is that he thought nobody was watching. Truth was the entire balcony was watching.

Feeling his new gravity, and not wanting to return to the cheap seats, this guy found himself a new seat in the assigned seating area of the VIP next to Fab and Liv and Devendra Banhart, unbeknownst to Fab and Liv and Devandra Banhart. He just removed the name placard and sat there like he owned it, like he belonged there, and you know what? He did.

Because this guy was more of a rock star than all three of them put together. This guy came alone and by the end of the show more people in our section were watching this guy than the band.

When the lights went down, this guy stood up and rocked the fuck out, waving his scarf like a propeller in the air nonstop for an hour while the rest of the balcony squatters remained seated.

He went batshit crazy up there, banging his head, twirling his arms, dancing ala St. Vitus. He had girls rushing for photo ops and guys giving him shout-outs during the intermission. The forgotten star of the show himself, Julia Casablancas, actually saluted and waved to the fucking nut from the stage. No joke. And the guy played it off like they were bro’s.

The guy was a folk hero by the end of the show.

Ben and I lost him in the theater, but found him on the corner of 6th and Broadway, alone again, sparking up a fresh joint. We relayed our praises and he offered us some weed.

We introduced ourselves and this guy, with no trace of sarcasm in his voice, introduced himself as “Oasis.”

O-fucking-ASIS.

Of course his name is Oasis! What else could it be? This guy was a walking party and wasn’t that band, back when they rocked that “Wonderwall” jam, supposed to be some sort of rolling ball of party before they became a twisted knot of fight? This besides the fact that Oasis had his name in decals on the back of his jacket AND his scooter.

Anyway, as we said our goodbyes an SUV full of new Oasis fans rolled up to praise him. “Dude you fuckin’ rule! Great dancing!”

Oasis threw up some devil horns, took a hit of his joint, unchained his scooter and disappeared into the long dark night in a white puff of pot smoke.

Oasis, I don’t know if my words can properly express my gratitude for the gifts of joy and wonder you gave me Friday night, so instead I dedicate these of your namesake to you.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding.
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.
There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how.
Because maybe you’re gonna be the one that saves me…

You know the rest.

Whatever you do, stay you.
kostrzak

Julian Casablancas - “River of Brakelights”

From Julian’s upcoming debut album PHRAZES FOR THE YOUNG.

Four words: Cool. Mad. Narrow. Long.