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An Albatross
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Market Hotel is a DIY space in Brooklyn. Without the address it would be pretty much impossible to find. With the address it's still hard.
The front door opens up to a narrow steel staircase leading up to the second floor venue -- at least it would if the door was openable, but it's tied shut with rope from the inside. Since it doesn't look like it's going to be opened anytime soon I pull my hat down over my head and take a nap behind the steering wheel since it promises to be a very long evening. An hour later the door is opened and we find we have to load in from another side of the block. I pull the van around and we haul everything up a long wider flight of stairs, setting up on a stage that actually has rain pouring on it from the roof. The place becomes packed with people, so I spend as much time as possible near the small barred windows trying to escape the smoke. Eventually I give up and spend most of the show outside, listening to the bands through the open windows and watching the van get covered with gobs of thick black grease falling from the elevated train overhead.
Yip-Yip plays first, an electronic duo that yells at each other like an old married couple. Two bands later we play a loud and fast set. A drunken inter-band conflict erupts during the set and words are had over the mic. We finish the set, but two angry band members disappear for the evening almost as soon as the last note has rung out. Luckily, some of the other bands make up for the tension, with jaw-dropping sets from DMBQ and Akimbo in particular. We have a much longer drive than anyone else, so we try to load out as soon as possible, but band after band needs to borrow our equipment, so we're stuck. Several sweaty, smoky, wee hours into the morning, the remaining band members haul everything back down the stairs and throw the equipment in the van for the last time.
We stock up at the bodega downstairs for the ride and hit the road.
After most of the members get dropped off in Wilkes-Barre, I make the final trek up to Scranton. By the time I reach my apartment, the sun is up full, and I'm delirious. I leave everything in the van and crawl into bed. Several hours after it was over for some of the other guys, the U.S. leg of the tour is finally over for me, too.
Saturday October 25, 2008 | 01:20 PM
I spend the morning grabbing coffee from Gimme Coffee! and drinking it in a park watching rats chase squirrels. The weather is rainy and cold, and I'm tired and sore from tour, so Williamsburg just seems like a hipster hellhole. The day doesn't much improve from there. It takes the guys all day to wake up after last night's blowout, and we just have time to grab a few burritos before heading to the venue.Market Hotel is a DIY space in Brooklyn. Without the address it would be pretty much impossible to find. With the address it's still hard.
The front door opens up to a narrow steel staircase leading up to the second floor venue -- at least it would if the door was openable, but it's tied shut with rope from the inside. Since it doesn't look like it's going to be opened anytime soon I pull my hat down over my head and take a nap behind the steering wheel since it promises to be a very long evening. An hour later the door is opened and we find we have to load in from another side of the block. I pull the van around and we haul everything up a long wider flight of stairs, setting up on a stage that actually has rain pouring on it from the roof. The place becomes packed with people, so I spend as much time as possible near the small barred windows trying to escape the smoke. Eventually I give up and spend most of the show outside, listening to the bands through the open windows and watching the van get covered with gobs of thick black grease falling from the elevated train overhead.
Yip-Yip plays first, an electronic duo that yells at each other like an old married couple. Two bands later we play a loud and fast set. A drunken inter-band conflict erupts during the set and words are had over the mic. We finish the set, but two angry band members disappear for the evening almost as soon as the last note has rung out. Luckily, some of the other bands make up for the tension, with jaw-dropping sets from DMBQ and Akimbo in particular. We have a much longer drive than anyone else, so we try to load out as soon as possible, but band after band needs to borrow our equipment, so we're stuck. Several sweaty, smoky, wee hours into the morning, the remaining band members haul everything back down the stairs and throw the equipment in the van for the last time.
We stock up at the bodega downstairs for the ride and hit the road.
After most of the members get dropped off in Wilkes-Barre, I make the final trek up to Scranton. By the time I reach my apartment, the sun is up full, and I'm delirious. I leave everything in the van and crawl into bed. Several hours after it was over for some of the other guys, the U.S. leg of the tour is finally over for me, too.
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About the Author
Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.
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