If you know me at all, you’re more than aware of my distant relationship with summer (yes, the season). We go back a long way but we’ve never gotten along. Spring, winter, autumn, bring them on! But summer, well, I’ve never been the biggest fan. I don’t tan. I burn. As a young’un the heat and humidity during any given New England summer made for many a bad hair day, too many allergies to sneeze at, more perspiration than a young girl should have to admit to and a yearning for a certain solstice to be made illegal, banned all together. (I was a kid! What do you want ?!)
Moving to NYC only reassured me that summer was a cruel joke. Between the oppressive heat and humidity combined with tall buildings, concrete, constant traffic (creating more heat and humidity) and the stench that rises from the piles of garbage and other unidentifiable waste on every street, it’s nauseating. God forbid you should have to take the subway as air circulation on the platforms is not a priority where temperatures can, and do, rise up over 100°F daily. Some of NYC’s homeless community take it underground turning train tracks into their toilet so you can imagine, after a hard day’s work, what you’re up against once you descend those formidable stairs to where your carriage awaits or is it you that’s left waiting, sweating, desperate for a breath of fresh car fumes and trash… Yes, I love NYC but sometimes it’s not easy.
The National, South Street Seaport NYC. Photograph by Jamie Kleiman
Luckily there was a bit of respite a few Fridays ago as Brooklyn boys, The National, cab’d it to South Street Seaport in lower Manhattan for a free show on the water with support from The Forms and Takka Takka. “They go on promptly at 8” said Jon so I took hede, took out my umbrella and met he, Katherine and Greg at the Heartland Brewery across the street from the seaport and waited out the passing rain, more or less. The clock strikes 8. Cool breezes, a sea of umbrellas and 5 men (actually 6 now) who know how to pour on the good stuff, it’s show time! And great it was. With backdrops of the tall ships, the edge of Brooklyn staring back at you and the National on stage the night took on a dreamy, playful cast. Song after song wooing the crowd, the mood was set. For 45 minutes you barely noticed the weather and then the band and the rain stopped and said good night.
Upon the release of For Western Violence and Brief Sensuality on their own High and Dangerous Records, Pearlene stomped into town for a rousing couple of shows as only they can do it. We caught them at the Knitting Factory and let me tell you, I’ve seen them pretty much every time they’ve come to New York and they keep getting better and better. Hard to do when your fucking brilliant already but they blew me, along with the rest of the crowd, away. This swingin’, stompin’ sexy, delta blues with the best mix of personalities you can imagine makes for not only a fantastic band but one of the best live shows you’ll ever witness. All the way from Cincinnati, Ohio Reuben Glaser and Jesse Ebaugh started small but couldn’t keep it that way as the music poured from their souls bringing on drummer Andy Jody, Andy Higley on keys with Beth Harris and Kristen Kreft on gorgeous back up vocals. Quiet and almost shy off stage, their first notes strike a chord in all of us and we can’t escape. We are hypnotized, all consumed and transformed. It was more a gospel reunion than a rock show.
Our hearts and hands raised we all testified and you will too. Check out Pearlene here and you WILL be saved!
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