I broke my number-one rule and ended up on Capitol Hill on a weekend.
It started at Nacho Borracho, a place I've come to appreciate quite a bit. The amateur-hour antics seem to decrease proportionate to the distance from the dreaded Pike/Pine corridor. The only rub at Nacho that night was a brogrammer in wraparound Johnny Cage shades—possibly one of those guys who goes to "pickup artist seminars," but either way, he clearly had committed—beefing with somebody sitting in a booth, or at least complaining to the manager that the guy should move and let him and his friends sit there. Cats can't even passive-aggressive right.
The call was made to head for Pike Street, the beloved strip that went from funny ha-ha to funny oh-no in no time. You know all this.
The toxic Bro and Becky activity was pitching up—distinguished gentleman Andrew Matson called it "Capitol Hill, the Ride." You must be this basic to ride. There were people standing in line up the block to get into the Comet (I guess they didn't know about the ultra above-top-secret back way in). I couldn't fathom why, since they don't do shows there no more.
The beer-pong-tourney vibe was strong (my old-guy senses told me we were among the new millennium's version of what I used to call "white hatters"), so I suggested our party head for Vermillion, one of the handful of spots in the vicinity guaranteed to have a minimum of first-year-out fuckpersons in attendance, and it didn't disappoint. It was Pad Pushers, an oasis of low-key head-nod bliss, away from the numbers.
At the door was Scratchmaster Joe, and at the bar as always was Wizdub, who very aptly compared the Comet scene to TGI Friday's. Among plenty other heads in the house, like the sharpshooter La and the professorial and sartorial gent Rik Rude, I ran into Marcus D and LaRue (who reports that he's about to vamoose back to Florida). Marcus (as one half of Bop Alloy) is playing with LaRue this week—on Wednesday, March 23, at the Rendezvous, in fact.
Get off the Hill, give in, give up.
Speaking of, Mobb Deep are playing Nectar on Tuesday, March 29, and you'll recall that Scarface was just there. Always nice to see more rooms (again, off the Hill) booking dope hiphop headliners (I can't say a lot for the openers as of yet), though it is a bummer to see legends playing smaller and smaller rooms. But change is inevitable, and if young'uns ain't buying tickets, then us brittle old heads gotta support, provided that we can get sitters/permission/enough sleep to properly show up to our soul-killing drag of a job the next day. And if young rappers like Lil Uzi Vert don't wanna rap on '90s beats, maybe you old ones need to keep that classic vibe fresh and vital and not retread—and do it for those who appreciate it, and not worry about those who don't.