Archive for February 22nd, 2007

On Tuesday night Boog City held a “40th Birthday Party” for Kurt Cobain at Cake Shop.

I’m going to wax nostalgic for a bit. I remember the teenage angst, skater sneakers, and borrowed cardigans. At my parochial school, it was pure bliss when some deejay blasted Nirvana at the school dance, an automatic allowance for moshing.  Forget slow dancing with the requisite space for the Holy Ghost between two pimply pubescents.

Kurt was the original UNCOOLKID: drawn out, dirtied, admittedly confused about his sexuality, embittered, and maybe just a little bit bored. He hated the public’s fascination with him (not like most celebrities today, who complain about the attention during sit-down interviews, then mug for the cameras as they make their ever-graceful exits). The more we loved him, the more he hated us. If he was alive, he would be disgusted with his own birthday party, and he probably would have showed up strung out, if he showed up at all.

Look, the guy was a mess. But the mess was his music, and the music was beautiful, no matter how ugly he tried to make it with his wretched voice.

In spite of all this, or maybe to spite it, it all came to a bullet in the head in April of 1994, but the intrigue lives on. Tortured souls have since tried to mimic, but it will never work the same way.

So on Tuesday my friend and I were really looking forward to hearing Nirvana tunes played in honor of Kurt’s would-be birthday. The girl working the door to the basement gave my friend’s suit the once-over as she took our money.  I noticed the sign behind her simply said “KURDT”.

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By Guest Reviewer: Eugene Slepov

Here’s one item to add to your list of things to do before you die: attend a concert of traditional Slavic music. Slavic Soul Party–a seven-man band with Shane Endsely and Ben Holmes on trumpet, Oscar Noriega on clarinet, Jacob Garchik and Brian Drye on trombone, Ron Caswell on tuba and Matt Moran on percussion–is the hottest thing this side of the Berlin Wall.

If you don’t object to going out on a workday, then take the F train to Barbès, a bar and performance space in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and pretend for two hours that you’re in Budapest, Hungary. Though the music here may not be your grandpa and grandma-style mazurka, you are guaranteed to find plenty of Old World sounds piping every Tuesday night in this diminutive performance space.

We rarely associate traditional Slavic music with hip-shaking sex appeal. Nevertheless, after consuming a few Red Stripes, I found myself swinging to the music in true bacchanalian abandon. Dancing like a drunk Slav is an interpretive performance for me; it involved waving around an imaginary gun, shooting it into the air occasionally, and goose-stepping in circles. Barbè s’s tiny stage and dance floor provides a very intimate space–twenty people here easily form a mosh pit.And why not? Slavic music, after all, is deeply influenced by the electric and carnivalesque sounds of Gypsy music. Though the melodies are generally staccato, the mood can be sultry, celebratory, or fast and raucous. Think Django

Reinhardt played on trumpets and clarinets. If that isn’t sexy, I don’t know what is–nevermind my dance skills.

Slavic Soul Party’s music is a blend of Eastern European and Mexican sounds with a touch of American soul and jazz. But, for the most part, we’re deep in the Balkans, Hungary and Romania. Yes, we’re in the land of beef goulash. I was actually reminded of that opening song from Pulp Fiction, a native Greek melody veiled as a surfer song. Highly danceable indeed. It’s unfortunate that the only song I was able to recall from that entire show was one that wasn’t even on the playlist.

The purity of their music is in itself impressive: purity of style and temperament. Yet Eastern Europe is hardly an ethnically homogenous area, hence the Balkan civil wars, nor is there really such a thing as a common Slavic culture. Since that entire part of the world was once occupied by the Ottoman Empire, there are still many lingering influences from Turkish and Central Asian cultures. You can’t miss the Middle Eastern-inspired melodies in virtually every song. You just can’t get this kind of an education in world history from watching CNN.

To sum up: your presence is kindly requested every Tuesday night at Barbès. Admissions is a “very strongly suggested” $10. You can even invite your grandmother if you feel like it.