Its 4:00 p.m. and I’ve just spent the entire day driving around New York City in my friend’s car. We’re lost, end up in Queens, and then stuck in traffic on the FDR for 30 minutes in the wrong direction. I finally make it home, shower, dress myself, and head back out the door for a night of rocking out. I show up with my friend Justin to an apartment on 34th and 2nd..Avenue. I walk in to find about twelve dudes sipping Bud Light watching football. There’s a TKE poster on the wall. I’m amused but never surprised by the ratio of boys to girls at concerts. With the exception of JT or the NYSNC concert I swear I didn’t attend in the sixth grade, every audience usually boasts a 3:1 male to female ratio. The crew we rolled with to the show was 12:2.
December first marks one of the first real winter nights in N.Y.C. It’s fucking freezing outside as we race to find cabs to take us to Terminal 5, the new music venue located at 56th street and 11th avenue. We scalped tickets for $60 a piece and underwent a pretty serious security check. The bathrooms and coat checks were a mess. The VIP area was simply the stage right side with benches and tables on the 2nd floor. Other than that, the venue is incredible; its beauty marked by huge white chandeliers and a modern minimalist motif. There are three floors with at least two bars on each floor and plenty of small tables, chairs, and sofas where those who partied to hard took power naps. Added bonus: the bartenders are all hot.
Ween’s been around for as long as I have been alive. They are a funky, chameleon like rock band who have adapted a century’s worth of music into their own unique style. They pull different elements together from swing music to metal to create their wildly eclectic and anarchic style. Their rainbow of vibes draws a very free-spirited and wide-ranging crowd. From older couples, balding retired frat boys, preppy financiers from Jersey, dirty hippies from Philly, and hipsters-emo-punk rockers from on and off the island, Ween entertains us all. From funky to freaky the band put on a rock star performance interspersing old favorites with hits from their latest album.
We found the non-VIP VIP spot, located a foot above the entire standing audience on the first floor right in front of the back bar. With a clear view in front of us, dancing room, and booze behind us, we decided we were never moving.
They went on around 8:30 p.m. and by 9:00 p.m. they had already pulled out five of their most popular songs. “Bananas and blow” got all the hippies dancing. “Mutilated Lips” was pure poetry. “Spiral meningitis” did not get me down. “Roses are Free” made me hungry for not only lasagna, but for Dean Ween’s hot electric guitar skills. “Push the little daises” is a classic and had everyone jumping from the floor to the ceiling listening to the creepy voice of Gene Ween. “Our own bare hands” was my favorite new song they played which is off their C.D. titled “La Cucaracha” released this past October.
As Justin and I ducked into the crowd to light up a bat we were warned by the friendly chubby bald men to our left, “Hey watch out, this place has crazy midget security guards.” Midget security guards?! The people who run this venue are genius! No stoner would ever expect a midget to come karate kicking the bowl out of your hand from two feet below you!
And now for the climax. Claude Coleman Jr.’s drum solo was out of this world. The first half was unbelievable and then he simply dropped his sticks and started banging the drums and cymbals with his own bare hands. I wish we could somehow figure out how to upload videos because then you will have some idea of how much the drummer was rocking out. He was unbelievable. He’s been with the band all along and this rockstar even teaches drums, guitar, bass and vocals at New York City’s Paul Green School of Rock. As everyone poured out of the venue into the street, the police ushered us out of the venue and onto 11th Avenue where for only 10$ you could join the 400 person NO2 balloon party.
My favorite quote of the night: I asked Dylan if I could borrow his lighter, and said “Is that cool?” To which he replied with squinty eyes and a wide smile, “Everything’s cooooool.”
Also side note, this random Brazilian dude in the bathroom line with me was wearing a really hot shirt by designer Robert Graham. Check them out here
---NINJA COURTNEY
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