Dum Dum Girls: Live at Maxwell’s!

Really, it doesn’t take much to get me to check out a show at Maxwell’s. I’ll even go to see two bands I’ve never listened to, just so long as I have the night (and next morning) off. Hell, even if I don’t--but can get to the corner of Washington and 11^th in Hoboken by show time—I’ll be there. Just give me a heads-up is all I’m saying … an hour at least.

Driving Mr. McDermott VI: Re-starting (again)

For the first time in months, I spent most of my Saturday behind the wheel of a certain green Toyota Tercel, not much unlike this:

Yes, I re-started my driving lessons (again), a process I began nearly one year ago. Why do I think it’s acceptable to function on the scale of geologic time? Regardless, my hiatus is over—though it was not without its consequences: namely, forgetting how to drive. Fortunately, Mandy reminded me as I walked out the door that the gas is on the right, and the brake on the left. Sure, this got me down the block with my stalwart teacher, Walter, but what would happen at the next intersection—let alone, in traffic?

Jersey City on Two Wheels: Weehawken & Hamilton Park

to enjoy this panoramic view, click to enlarge

For this edition of my semi-regular photo-essay on local attractions accessible with a bicycle, I took a trip outside the Jersey City limits. Yes, I know. I understand your outrage (and the vituperative comments I will surely receive), but please hear me out. Don’t consider this a betrayal of my adopted city; the JC will forever have a special place in my heart and on this blog. But a bright Saturday morning is perfect for a ride to the cliff-top Hamilton Park in nearby Weehawken, a trip I’d like to take you on here—even if you’re unwilling to leave your doorstep, or the familiar streets of Jersey City.

Jersey City on Two Wheels: A Three-park Tour

This weekend I decided to string together three small parks into one bike ride/blog post. These parks are all within easy running distance, and I frequently visit them. Nearby and smaller than the previous parks, I overlooked writing a post on them. But I realized that including all three would give both my ride and the post enough distance and material. So, here are three parks tied closely to their respective Jersey City neighborhoods.

Jersey City on Two Wheels: Lincoln Park

Another (rain-free) Saturday morning to cycle about my fair city equals another installment of my series on the best places in Jersey City beyond walking distance of my apartment. (The only truly great, blog-worthy places within walking distance include the Landmark Jersey Loews Theater, and our local churrasquiera.) This time I bring you photographs from Lincoln Park, a valued patch of greenery on the West Side of Jersey City. I first stumbled upon this park on an exploratory walk one evening during my first summer here. Enamored with my discovery, I have returned frequently since then, whether on foot, on a bike, or behind the wheel of a car. And finally, now I can show someone other than Walter what a great park this really is: where joggers and cyclists circle cricket and softball players sharing the inner fields, where tennis and basketball players hit the courts early, where families stroll through the passing seasons, where birds and other wildlife find safe haven, where monuments commemorate chapters of the city's history, and where a solemn statue of a clean-shaven Abraham Lincoln presides.

Jersey City on Two Wheels: Liberty State Park

Hello, my avid readers (and those random strangers who may have stumbled upon this site while looking for tips on arranging your own 100 monkey/100 typewriter set-up in your basement). Welcome all!  Since I have recently discovered that my digital camera does not encumber me while pedaling about my fair city, I plan to share with you some of the sights and attractions that make Jersey City just about the greatest city around. Sure, it can be rough for a place to be in the shadow of NYC and to be ridiculed as part of every Jersey joke or slur, but I’ve come to embrace all aspects of the JC: its convenience and frustrating lack thereof, its beauty and rampant ugliness, its history and modern woes. But where else would I live? Brooklyn?  Ha … haha … bwahahahahahaha!

First stop on this virtual tour, the crown jewel of Jersey City’s waterfront redevelopment: Liberty State Park (Okay, okay … any golfer would say it’s actually the adjacent country club that deserves such a designation, but that place is private and extremely exclusive, ie. I cannot shoot a round or bike there. Hence, it will never be mentioned again, and boycotted forthwith.) These photos can only provide a small sense of the wide expanse of rolling parkland and harbor vistas adjacent to those iconic New Jersey landmarks: the Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. (See what I did there? You might think those islands are part of New York State or something like that. Well, that misconception has just been corrected. BOO-YAH! Tell your friends—you’ll seem smart. Or just a snarky know-it-all. And if that’s the case, then you’re better off without those friends anyway.) Thus, the best way to experience the park is to visit yourself—preferably on a bike, and never as part of a half-marathon. Now, I’m no J. Moskowitz or M. Crenshaw when it comes to capturing gorgeous snapshots of my travels, so please bear with the results of my photographic endeavors, and (if you can) enjoy them.

from the center of the park you can see Manhattan, and ...

 ... Ellis Island, and ...

... the Statue of Liberty.

the Goldman-Sachs building in JC, with the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings in the background

the nature center

my bike and the view

the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge connects Brooklyn (left) and Staten Island (right)

gulls, piers, and the port of Elizabeth, NJ

 

 

what lives in the water?

one of my favorites

and another

 a river monster?!

Brooklyn Bridge!

Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island

lower Manhattan

Jersey City, new and old

inside the former terminal for the Central Railroad of New Jersey

exterior of the CRRNJ building

farewell Liberty State Park

New Jersey Rocks! (a.k.a. “You Will Always Be a Loser!!” or Titus Andronicus Forever!!!)

It seems the old adage holds true: You can take the band out of Jersey, but you can’t take the Jersey out of the band. And thank god for that. Patrick, Amy and the rest of Titus Andronicus may now reside in Brooklyn (the epicenter of the New York music scene, I begrudgingly admit), but they assert their NJ roots (it is the Garden State, after all.) And they do it not only by playing kick-ass rock shows anytime they return to the area, but they even pay homage to New Jersey in their latest video (more on this later.)

For Tim and I, the evening began typically: a pile of Chinese food, PATH trip to Hoboken, and then a lovely evening stroll along tree- and brownstone-lined streets to the Mecca of local music venues—Maxwell’s.  And then, although we eschewed imbibing, we did stand around like a bunch of losers judging the swelling crowd. When I go to shows, I pray that there aren’t too many hipsters—but with the bands I see that’s usually unavoidable. But actually, I’ll take hipsters over douches any day (and always over stoned soccer moms.) There were more of them in the crowd than I’d expected, but I chalk it up to just being a well-apportioned representation of north Jersey. Well, except for all the black, Hispanic, and south Asian people. But moving on …

Dinowalrus opened, and they turned out to be a pretty good band blending drums with a drum machine, psychedelic guitar riffs, and delayed/distorted vocals. I didn’t take to the vocals at first, but nothing else would have worked with the rest of their sound--which actually rocked. Forgive my sense of surprise; I generally don’t anticipate great opening bands—but Dinowalrus just happens to be the best Tim and I have seen (personally, I saw Screaming Females open for Arctic Monkeys, but since I’ve seen them multiple times as a headliner they're disqualified.)   

Speaking of Screaming Females, we saw them at Maxwell’s at the end of March (partly because Tim had never seen them live, and partly because I couldn’t stand waiting another month for a concert). Although they are tight performers with sick style of rock, I was somewhat disappointed with that evening’s show: only an hour-long set—with an animated video accompaniment for each song. An artsy concept that seems good in concept, but perhaps not in execution—just a little too short and structured for my liking.

This is precisely what I had in mind when I saw a projection screen erected on stage after Dinowalrus. But what came next assuaged all dread of a multimedia show, and indeed, it verily warmed my heart. On that screen, Titus Andronicus premiered their new video—simultaneously broadcast in various venues (physical and online) throughout the state (then, I guess, the rest of the world … as if that mattered.) As far as concept and execution, I think the video speaks for itself:

 I love that the tour starts in the Pine Barrens and finishes in Jersey City. (I only regret that I was not among the audience on that JC rooftop … sigh.)

But I was in the audience at Maxwell’s last night; whereupon, I saw a wholly different band than Tim and I had nearly two years ago—quite literally (the number of former members of the band dwarfs the current line-up.) We’d never even heard a note of their music before going—I just wanted to see a show at Maxwell’s, and I’d read that they were hard-rocking punks of a sort. And basically all I remember of the concert is that it was incredibly loud, and the vocals unintelligible. Oh, and that one of the guitar players wore his guitar awkwardly high.

This time around though, I’ve been jonesing to see Titus Andronicus since last July when I first listened to their second album, The Monitor (okay, maybe since the fourth or fifth listen.) A concept album of interconnected melodic rock songs based in part on the Civil War—how could I not like it? Maybe not every song, but I do love the seven-minute opener and the fourteen-minute closer. And when they’re played back-to-back (or rather, closer into opener) at the climax of the show for a perfect 20-minute block of song? That was pretty freaking cool. As was the taste of electric violin provided by the joyously-bouncing Amy Klein, the harmonica solo by the drummer’s dad, a bit of moshing, and much singing-along to Patrick Stickles rock-ballad choruses. And though I didn’t pick up a copy of their album on vinyl or a tote bag (really?), I did leave deaf, hoarse, and humming every chorus and riff. Good times.

Driving Mr. McDermott (IV. Parallel Parking, part 2)

I joined Walter early one Saturday morning to get in a few hours of parking practice before the storm ravaging the Eastern seaboard reached north Jersey. To avoid the high winds certain to blow along the harbor at Liberty State Park, we drove to the west side of Jersey City to a fine urban park named after a fine president: Lincoln. Passing fields of softball, baseball, and even cricket players, we found a corner suitable for parking. However, the site along the Hackensack River (soon to be a redeveloped wetland), was a windy as any in the city. Our barrels were immediately blown over, but Walter scoured the park and managed find two rocks to hold them firm and fast. But possibility remained: would I knock them over with an errant bumper?   

As it turns out, I may actually be getting the hang of this parking thing. Using two hands on the wheel certainly helped, but I still put myself into to situations where I needed to make small adjustments--and to actually think through them. Very little about driving comes to me as if second nature; yes, I am more familiar with operating an automobile than I ever have been, but I only do so a couple hours every week. And I wouldn't say I'm comfortable, either. Actually, I worry about being too comfortable and thus becoming less observant and cautious behind the wheel. I feel that I need to be nervous to drive well, but this notion will surely diminish with time and further experience.  

And speaking of harrowing/formative experiences whilst driving, the rains eventually arrived at Lincoln Park, so Walter and I set on a brief adventure to Union City in search of a gas station. Along the way, I navigated an incredibly awkward 10-way interchange, then drove over a faux-median after I nearly missed our exit. Of course this exit brought me to a street that wouldn't be out of place in San Fransisco (and by that I mean a steep hill, not Haight-Ashbury or a hip gay neighborhood). Finally we entered the gas station, whereupon I learned that not only does New Jersey have some of the lowest gas prices in the country, but according to state law, I cannot pump my own gas. What I relief, considering I don't know how to do that and am more than willing to entrust that hazardous deed to a trained professional (much as I would trust a professional to park my stroller, or direct me to the nearest lavatory.) I then guided us down a narrow and crowded street back to the JC, driving uncomfortably close to parked cars for poor Walter. And when I pulled into Concord Street what did I find? The same parking spot as last week. And as the drizzle intensified, I backed the ass of this little car neatly into a spot that surely could have fit two. See, I'm learning something.

Driving Mr. McDermott (III. Parallel Parking)

On Monday morning a call roused me from my snoozing. I answered, stood, and hung up as I reached the door of my apartment. Squinting in the bright morning sun, I saw parked below me the green Toyota Tercel—the only car I’ve ever driven. And in the passenger side already, sat my instructor. Approaching the driver’s side, I noticed, in addition to the homemade usually “Student Driver” sign duct-taped to the roof, two large plastic trashcans strapped into the trunk. Opening the door to greet Walter, I immediately inquired about their purpose. As I adjusted my seat—as well as to the sight of the trunk door in my rearview mirror—Walter said, dramatically, “Today … we’ll be doing parking.” A small sense of foreboding came with that significant word: parallel parking, the bane of novice and veteran (though not necessarily good) drivers everywhere. 

Driving Mr. McDermott (II. Road Trips)

One of the things I’ve regretted about not being able to drive—besides not having an ID, or being a capable designated driver (back in my straight-edge days)—was my inability to participate in road trips. For instance, in college I went on a road trip to visit a friend in Ohio; but if I ever talk about it, I’d have to say I “drove” to Ohio with some college friends—they took turns driving, but I merely rode along. My family has gone on cross-country trips, but I have no sense what it actually means to drive those miles or how it feels to cross the landscape behind the wheel. But in my lessons with Walter, as I’ve outgrown Jersey City, we have had to drive farther and farther for new experiences and sights.

Damn you, Village Voice!

Ok, well, now that the secret’s out, I can mention it on this blog: Jersey City happens to be the location of the best movie theater in the area, the Landmark Loews Jersey Theatre.  And thanks to the Village Voice, the rest of the region heard about the coolest thing in Jersey City (although my apartment rooftop is pretty sweet).  And thanks to this printed alt-weekly, hordes of people descended on Journal Square last night.  Well, besides the positive press, perhaps it also had something to do with the evening’s film: Nosferatu (1922), a silent film shown with live organ accompaniment (a pipe organ that is, not hearts or livers.)  Yes, the largest crowd in the recent history of the theater (though built in 1929, the theater was saved and restored by volunteers to begin showing films nine years ago) turned out for Nosferatu, a silent German-produced version of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.  Despite being an unauthorized version of the story, it’s perhaps the best on-screen rendition.  It was incredibly quirky, with an iconic (though not so horrific) villain.  Plus, there was the organ providing the entire soundtrack!  Although an evening at the Loews always features some organ music, silent movies with the organ are still a rare treat—something straight out of a bygone era.  And now thanks to the Voice (and the Friends of the Loews’ own publicity), more people will be coming to enjoy the experience of seeing a classic film in one of the last great movie palaces around. 

Jersey Rocks! (and I don't mean the Boss or Bon Jovi)

If you pick up the recent issue of The L Magazine you’ll see Jersey’s own Screaming Females on the cover, with an interview of the three piece rock band inside. 

Screaming Females rocked Siren Music Fest in July

I’ve seen them a couple times--including an intense set as the headliners at Maxwell’s back in August--and I’m still impressed by lead singer Marissa Paternoster’s consistently sick shredding song after song.  Here's a video introduction to the band: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYJjOWiD7ik

and songs at http://www.myspace.com/screamingfemales

And just a couple months ago, Titus Andronicus, another hard-working, hard-rocking band out of New Jersey, graced the magazine’s cover.  Check them out as well: http://www.titusandronicus.net/ and http://www.myspace.com/titusandronicus

And I’m all for this trend of Jersey rockers taking it to those wheez-e-lectronic Brooklyn indie folks.