But thrash and bass weren't the only things getting hitched last week. Thursday, March 25, marked the official engagement party for Connie Merlot and her shirtless, tactless husband, Lefty Right Hand, at the Crescent. For those unfamiliar with the happy, trashy couple, Connie is the, um, alter-ego of Ursula Android, an ex-whore fascinated with Jackie Collins, David Hasselhoff, and slinky '70s disco dresses, who has a perm curled so tight she makes poodle fur look straight. I knew it was gonna be a good party, though, when Connie's "mother-like figure," a madam named Fran (AKA Jackie Hell), came barreling out of City Market with a maniacal grin screaming, "I've got corn dogs!" for the occasion. Connie, sporting a half manicure set, apologized for coming to the sendoff partially lacquered, explaining, "I had to take my Siamese, Misty, to the vet today to get a cyst lanced, so I got to my manicurist late." But Con didn't need those nails to emcee the night, which was made for love and music. The celebration included a performance by a new act called Gold Rush, a two-piece whose graceful, haunting music was totally (and perfectly) out of place among the polyester gaudiness. Gold Rush comprises guitarist Jan Norberg and singer/tambourine player Mindy, a stunning pair both physically and musically, she in a tattered and refashioned gingham dress, short black hair, and false eyelashes, and his tall, lanky figure in a suit, his eyes hidden under stark white hair. Together they performed an ashy combination of old-timey country and blues that included a crowd-rousing cover of the old Blind Willie McTell song "Ain't It Grand to Be a Christian." (To hear Gold Rush yourself, hit the Blue Moon Tavern on April 10.) The performances definitely went downhill from there, though, as happens when the karaoke machine comes out. And while the selection of songs at the Crescent is tops--they have Slaughter on deck!--I swear there's something off with their machine because the words and music don't always match. The best part of the night, though, aside from roping NYC comedian Eugene Mirman to head over from his stint that night at Neumo's (where he showed a couple funny, twisted videos he made about himself and the dangers of smoking pot), was that the event was a step closer to a Pho Bang reunion. The gang was all there, and a dozen or so drinks after the corn-dog declaration, Fran gave me a wink and said, "I'm always gonna be Jackie!" meaning that the Pho co-hostess (along with Ursula Android) is a step closer to formalizing the rumors of a real return.
And somewhere that same night, I picked up a flier for a roller-skating party that I think I'll pass along: It promises you'll "Roll Up to the Dopest Party This Side of 1979" if you hit the Southgate Roller Rink on Sunday, April 4, at 9:00 pm. Don't forget the leg warmers.
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On my list of favorite SXSW shows a couple weeks back, I forgot to mention that the Lost Sounds ranked high. So I was pretty stoked to get a disc from Portland's Empty Records that's a new project from Jay Reatard and Alicja Trout (from the Lost Sounds) and Ryan Wong (who played with Jay in the Reatards) called Destruction Unit. Their self-titled debut sounds like it was recorded in a meteor shower of electronic effects, with synths doing fly-bys from all directions and vocals shouted like they're being sent from the commander of a losing army during an alien guerrilla warfare invasion. Destruction Unit sounds even bleaker and more terrifying than the Lost Sounds' sci-fi garage punk, like the members' apocalypse is riding on a wave of high-voltage annihilation. Along with the new Icarus Line album (out this summer), this is one of the best new records of self-destruction I've heard in weeks.
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In some sad news, booker Brian Foss has decided to leave the Fun House, although the stalwart underground music supporter makes clear that the parting was amicable. And on that note, I'm taking off myself-- for a real vacation for a couple weeks on a completely different continent. See y'all mid-April.
