Saturday was a long, happy day in Tompkins Square Park for the Outdoor Anti-Folk Festival Kick-Off. Gregg and I arrived slightly late and hopped aboard the inaugural PARADE, marching around the park with instruments, singing that "If somehow you could pack up your sorrows" song. I strummed very hard(ly?), and felt very Anti-Folk.

We were half-way around the park before I noticed that SCANDALISTZ VANDALIST was marching right behind me. They were fresh-faced and bouncy, and Katherine was playing an oboe.

And that began the long show! Highlights:

-Ivan Sandomire's long-sought-after return.
-Trevor Exter, who I'd never seen. He plays blues cello.
-Daoud's anthemic "Cecile B. Demille Part II."
-The Bowman's "Make it Last.'
-Jason Trachtenberg's "Beautiful Dandelion"

And two more highlights that deserve their own bullet points.

The SV kids did a medley that made the whole park go ape-shit. Katherine ended up on her knees, screaming into the microphone. The choreography was killer. Lach came up to me and went, "Thank you." Am I a talent scout, or am I a talent scout? I should go into A & R, I'm serious.

But clearly, the most notable thing about the fest was the outrageously surreal performance by SUZANNE VEGA. I sat down in the front with Jason Rabinowitz and Jessica Blue, and we giggled like idiots as she played THE HITS. She started with Marlene On The Wall, followed with a rather good new song called New York Is A Woman, and ended with...wait for it...

Tom's Diner.

Yup. I really respect people who PLAY THE HITS. Her voice was so low and rich and full. I was impressed by that more than anything else. Joie went on next, and I expected him to highlight the contradictions by busting into something loud and punky, but instead he played a ballad.

Jason gave Suzanne Vega (who, by the way, has the same initials as Scandalistz Vandalist (we need an exorcist in here like now))a Bloodsugars CD, and he felt like an awkward dorkus. She sang on stage with us during the big "Former President Bush" everyone-on-stage finale. It was pretty hilarious.

Afterwards a bunch of us engorged ourselves on various sandwiches and ice creams, and then I L-trained over to Union Pool to play in NAN & THE ONE NIGHT STANDS, Nan's new band project. We had a leisurely sound check with a really nice sound guy. I spontaneously started playing drums during one of Nan's solo guitar numbers, and she decided to keep it in the set. I didn't play the full song all the way through until we performed! It felt rad! I felt like Nan! I also sang and played hi-hat on a really beautiful cowboy song called "Buckeye," and did keyboards on two others. I felt like a real musician. I almost want to scrap everything and just be in other people's bands, and live in Williamsburg forever, writing "parts."

Before I went home and passed out I danced around to Kansas State Flower, who were cosmically good. Kristy is such a meditative drummer, and I always feel compelled to pay really close attention to what she's doing. I never thought I'd appreciate an INDIE ROCK JAM BAND, but I guess I do!

The next morning I missed Gregg's outdoor Klezmer show cuz I slept late. I did a lot of yoga and warmed up my voice. In the middle of my warm-up, I had a HUGE VOCAL BREAKTHROUGH. Normally I sing pretty quietly as I'm doing my scales, but this time I tried PROJECTING, and I was INCREDIBLY LOUD AND OPERETIC. It made an enormous difference, and I was able to rehearse my songs with a newfound stamina.

Then I found an episode of My So-Called Life on YouTube and ate a veggie burger.

It was around now that I got a text message from Max inviting me to dance in a Moby video, directed by Reverend Jen. Apparently they needed "gay boys to dance." My instant reaction was WHATEVER! When straight people, no matter how radical, depict "dancing gay boys," they always fetishize us into oblivion, reducing us to a narrow sliver of our demographic and making us seem like poodles for the amusement heterosexual society. I wanted no part in it. Max texted back, "Wax wax wax," which at first I read as a hair-removal command, but then I realized it was a poke at my preachiness, so I responded, "Okay I'll do it." I grabbed a marker and wrote "NICHE MARKET" on my arm. "Hey Moby, stick THAT in a car commercial," I thought.

When we arrived at the shoot, in the old Rubulad space, it was instantly apparent that there was no "gay dance party," but rather just the need for some token homosexuals to fill out the "disco themed" scene. We were just dressed like normal fags, and I instantly regreted not throwing on something special. (Amongst straight people, I'm fine getting glammed up. Amongst gays, I always feel the need to look as grungey and belligerent as possible.)

We never even got a chance to hear the song for the video! We danced around to ABBA Gold, with lots of bubbles and a smoke machine. Reverend Jen Jr. (a dog) snorted lines of baking flour off a mirror. Max and I mostly just ate Sun Chips, and I got sorta wasted on this neon green melon drink.

By 6:30, it was time for me to head to Sidewalk. Blah blah, I'm momentarily sick of facile narrative, so I'm gonna take a break and come back to this later....

Everyone was a rockstar last night. Herb had a WHOLE BAND, with drums, bass, brass - the works. We finally got a glimpse into the extent of his mad musical vision.

The Art Sorority 4 Girls was so smooth and good-looking. Sara's bells and keyboards were the perfect touch. Who knew that two kids could combine their love of Toby Goodshank and the Babyskins and still sound emo?

Peter Dizozza was appropriately fresh and full of flair. His song about the virtues of the legal system was pretty goddamn inspiring.

Then SCANDALIZ VANDALISTZ played! Afterwards, Daoud was like, "Remember when The Bar Mitzvah Brothers played here?" And we both went, "It felt like THAT." Totally revelatory - an exaltation of spunk and joy and inhibitionless enthusiasm. And now Cheese On Bread no longer carries the burden of being "the new Moldy Peaches."

Toby followed with a characteristically intense combo of songs. The highlight was when Katherine SV's 95-year-old grandmother left the room, and Toby followed with the song that goes, "She is afraid to fuck..."

Then I played:

1. The Taylor Mac Song (I Cannot Be Everything I Like)
2. G.I. Joe Song
3. Weird Again
4. Mammal
5. Word/Cum
6. 18-Year-Old Me
7. Machine Boy
8. Under The Gun
9. Bad Canary
10. Rebel Girl (Bikini Kill)
11. You Can Call Me Al (Paul Simon)

I had mad fun on stage. I felt more comfortable up there than I have in a good long while. It felt especially good to play "Under the Gun," a new song that I was nervous about. The audience was friendly and responsive. I've been trying to squeeze the experience out of my head so I can stick it back in my mouth and roll it around in there. It was one of those performances.

We all hung around the club for a while before I scampered off to an apartment with the SV kids, ostensibly to seduce one or all of them, but it felt more appropriate to just down some Sparks and talk trash for a few hours before crawling off to bed.

I wanna play another show right now.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the worst part about being a performer in NYC is waking up the next day and going to work, far away from all the edifying compliments and gratification. And a perfectly EQ-ed monitor on a slow, smooth song, when you play all the right notes.

Arg!
Love
Dan