Enterprising local party promoters should take the lead of the I Sunk Your Battleship crew (Alex Robert, Brady Bagger, Colin Griffiths). For three years running, these twentysomethings have created one of the summer's most eventful excursions—a floating rock show/dance club that puts you on the beautiful waters of Elliott Bay. Their Argosy booze cruises feel quintessentially seasonal and very Seattle—allowing people to enjoy the outdoors before the weather turns foul and using the DIY ethic to make it happen.
At this year's party, everything initially seemed headed in the right direction. The entertainment (Stabmasterarson, the Saturday Knights, DJs Curtis and FITS) filled two floors with top-notch music. And while the bars were way understaffed, people still got their drink on enough to rock the boat. Especially, it seems, one poor girl who passed out in a corner after becoming a tad seasick. So the decision was made to turn the ferry around and drop off the green girl. The problem was, the ship never returned to the bay again. We were less than two hours into the three hours promised, and Argosy's crew refused to leave the dock, stating that everyone was just too drunk. (The bars could've just refused to over-serve patrons.) So while impatient attendees trickled off to dry land, headliners the Saturday Knights played to a sadly dwindling audience (this after Knights guitarist Brian Weber came straight from a car accident—still bloodstained—to make the gig). It was a really frustrating ending to an otherwise wonderful idea. But let's hope it doesn't discourage these intrepid promoters from continuing to serve Seattle with one-of-a-kind events.
I also hit Low Life's wild six-month anniversary last week at the Viceroy—where the Tuesday night weekly was under no threat of getting beached for public drunkenness. The event is DJ Curtis's baby (with the Death of the Party crew), and he rocked the club with choice cuts from the other side of the '80s with guests Jackie Hell and Ursula Android. They turned the classy Belltown joint into a writhing mass of sweaty, dancing bodies (some of whom used tables and couches as stages).
Last Thursday was the debut of the Bats of Belfry, a new act I've mentioned before, featuring ex-members of Cobra High and Gold Rush and current members of Vells. They were the hit of the night, packing the house at the War Room (where they opened for secret headliners Love as Laughter), and spiraling out into heavy groove jams, Bowie-esque headtrips, and one easy-listening love song, which Seattle's thin white duke Jan Norberg sang on bended knee. Expect to see more glowing words about this band from this here writer in weeks to come. I also checked out the Purrs that same night, a wonderful Seattle band also bending back the clock—this time to the heyday of MTV's 120 Minutes. With a frontman who bears a vocal resemblance to Richard Ashcroft, the band glided between Suede-style Brit-pop drama and Brian Jonestown Massacre-style jangling psychedelia. Good stuff.
