I saw the well-publicized The Fall and Rise of the Rising Fallen last night at P.S. 122. (A review will be posted on Gothamist Sunday, even if I have to march over a highway of skulls to make it so.)
One thing I'm not going to get into in the review, because it's certainly not BB&B's fault, is the audience. I've got to remember not to go to opening nights with companies like BB&B, Richard Maxwell and Radiohole. All the eagerly indulgent, 'knowing' laughter at the slightest absurd comment or non-sequitur gets a tad irritating.
I know it's only to be expected from an opening-night crowd of 'friends of the band', as it were, but it reminded me of the time I attended the opening night of a certain experimental theater troupe and sat next to a girl who was a human assembly line of pedantic, cognoscenti guffawing. Sometimes she was the only one braying, and it was a really annoying, piercing laugh. I couldn't help but think that she was consciously or unconsciously trying prove how 'down' she was to the rest of the alt-theater scene.
Okay, I know I sound like an unbearably uptight grouch. But does anyone know what I'm talking about? Or is I just a total square?
Another thing "we're" not going to get into on Gothamist is the after-party P.S. 122 threw. BATTERED SHRIMPS!!! VEGETARIAN SHISH-KABOB!!!! Different colored wine!!! Two varieties of beer, one of which was very intoxicating!!!
AND they played music by the best new band of this foul century: The Joggers.
Did I mention the BATTERED SHRIMPS? I'm loath to dredge up the great "Essential Self Defense Hullabaloo of Aught Seven", but let's just say that The Fall and Rise of the Rising Fallen is basically a transcendent masterpiece unlikely to be rivaled in significance by any future generations.
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