When it rains it rains, and everything gets wet. When there are two good concerts on the same night, well, it helps if it doesn’t rain, so you can try to make it to both. On the way over from The Delancey to Home Sweet Home, on the empty stretch of Delancey, I was overtaken by two short men running with a lazy gait, they looked like they just rolled a drunk and had to get away only wasting a minimum of energy.
At Home Sweet Home on the early side of 11PM, it’s not like I walk in and everyone goes woooo and the DJ drops a really hot beat and there are crazy pulsating lights.
People were just trickling in, some like the “I’m a supermodel, I don’t have any cash” guys, were annoying from the start, others like Jonathan Toubin, having a few drinks with friends (he has a night off?), were amazing. Home Sweet Home’s Filth party has one basic test, if you have a day job or if you are going to whine about the late hour of the night, you will fail. Lauren Dillard and Aaron K took turns spinning an upbeat mixture of B side tracks (that’s how I would describe tracks that sound almost like their standout singles but aren’t), two girls were dancing wildly, something about them said “vacation” or “in heat”. Tearist duo Yasmine Kittles and William Strangeland were nowhere to be spotted, they were probably in that timeless zone where bands go before their set, even in a crowded space with nowhere to hide, invisible to all. By 1:30am, they took the stage and destroyed it in a sweaty haze with menacing lyrics, menacing dancing from Yasmine and the bass set just right to turn the stomach and let the feet loose. Yasmine kicked one photographer off the stage, saying casually, he’s too drunk, he has to go. Everyone was probably too drunk, even if you live in the night, 2am is a difficult listening hour. There was a broken white fan laying on stage, I ignored it at first but later realized it’s a part of their stage decoration. I could be wrong about this, but I am right when I say that they tore the musical fabric and gave us all a bit of release.
Before this, at the Delancey downstairs, a woman with curves inspired by the roads winding through the Alps was dancing to aggressive trance that changed its tempo in sudden bursts. There was a group of Polish men, shaved heads and track suits, talking loudly and drinking. A few other dancers sashayed around this and the upstairs floor, where Shams was just finishing his set. There was a woman in a nun’s outfit and high heels drinking a beer. The beer selections all came with a free shot, so I presume earlier there was a nun in high heels taking a shot somewhere in this bar. Fostercare played an intimate, slightly subdued set, his face covered in a mask, mixing tracks live in a fog that drew people in. Food Stamps, who were all in attendance, and joined me later at the Tearist show, said that he was sick and thus had to fight the diseases that slow down our bodies with the great diseases that inspire our minds.