MUSIC FRENZ

Hey, some good and only somewhat patronizing press for suddenly-hot Greenpoint divenue (get it? dive + venue = divenue) Tommy's Tavern (which Black Dice's Aaron Warren claims is his current favorite place to see a show in this week's Time Out):

Todd Patrick (aka Todd P), a local concert organizer, saw promise in the seemingly depressing dive. Spiffy, blue-and-red paint job. Ornate, grandma-worthy light fixtures. A wooden, Country Club malt-liquor calendar updated daily. And, most important, a separate lounge rigged with rave-like lighting and speakers rivaling a jet engine for deafening capability.

"I was like, 'Ah, hell, let's do this,'" Patrick says.

Now, sometimes three or four nights a week, the working-man's dive—surrounded by Polish meat markets and Mexican bodegas—is headquarters to New York City's most tinnitus-inducing hullabaloos.

During shows, up to 200 or 300 tattooed young 'uns and pegged-pant bicyclists flood the bar. They shoot nine-ball with the Corona-sipping pool sharkette. Creased-hat regulars perk up, sunken cheeks filling with conversation, not just liquor. ("They're happy to see the younger women," Patrick says.) Third-generation Europeans stream in, along with the odd Hispanic family, creating an intergenerational, multicultural gumbo. Bargoers may not speak one another's language; everyone, however, is fluent in intoxication.

This is what Todd Patrick has done to Brooklyn's rock 'n' roll repertoire. Sure, Williamsburg is lousy with venues, and the Warsaw serves large-draw bands. But it's tiny Tommy's, a few blocks from Newtown Creek and Queens, that's drawing the crowds.

Where else can one watch shows where bartenders sneak into the performance space to scoop ice from the freezer? How about a smoking policy enforced with the firm hand of someone with neither eyes nor nose? Or a bar that, instead of driving locals off during concerts, draws in triple or even quadruple the typical neighborhood contingent?

Speaking of Todd P and Tommy's and the Brooklyn music scene and life, remember that Puttin on the Ritz show 'at' the Siren Festival I mentioned?  The one in the Atlantic Ocean (maybe you've heard of it)??  That and other escapades in the continuing saga of these standardcore legends are lovingly documented by BJ and Kevin at the band's official blog, which I discovered in the midst of a Todd P-mail!  As often happens when I read things, I was sent on a fantastic and magical journey that resulted in me discovering something new about the world and myself - PotR was 'conceived' at my house (which kind of explains that weird paternal feeling I've been having):

Our band was conceived one evening at 502 Warren Street, which was playing host to several bands (Aa and Japanther among others, if memory serves me). Kevin Shea and myself were outside, chatting about something or another (consuming copious amounts of alcohol, in all likelihood), when we began singing songs to each other. For some reason, we were singing standards to each other, but we were singing them as a sailor might, so to speak. Then it occurred to him that his friend Tianna was looking for some sort of lounge band to perform some party, and that perhaps we should start a band with him drumming and me singing our dirty songs. Tianna happened to be there, and agreed to let us perform. Some time passed, and about a week before the show we finally got together to pick out the songs we were going to play. We chose six, but we decided that rather than change the lyrics we would just perform them straight, me crooning much as Sinatra might and him drumming. We had two practices, which we recorded straight to minidisc so we would have compact discs to sell at our show. Somehow we booked another show for the following week, actually before we had ever practiced. I was nervous, I had no idea if we were going to suck or not. Everything was happening so fast.

Early headz up - PotR will be returning to the womb this coming Tuesday, August III, as they close out a 'quiet show' chez moi with Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, Zeke Healy (from the Boggs), Currituck County, and Aphid Ant Constructions.  Come to Daddy!