I actually got to sit down to watch this set, which was a crazy new concept for me. I surprisingly had a little time before they went on, so I shut my eyes and nodded off for a quick minute. I awoke to the first distorted licks to a cool, heavy Southern blues style of rock you would never have expected to come out of LI. Having grown up there, I know the vast majority of the Long Island music scene consists of metal bands, emo bands, and alternative weirdo bands. Not this. It started a little slow and heavy, almost desperate. Then it was like a flick switched, and I wasn’t drowsy anymore. What ensued was a most excellent modern variation of old school rockabilly that made me question which state, and perhaps which decade I lived in. It was during their third song—a very slowed down, handsome sounding beat — that I thought to myself, “why aren’t there more bands doing this?” Honest love songs rocked gently, and sometimes not so gently, to their ladies of dedication, whoever they may be.

Sitting down, my over-tired body regained some of its strength, and maybe some of my tattoo booze left my system simultaneously as Johnnie & The Boys turned on. “I’mma turn my guitar up loud / Blow ya cocksuckin’ windows out,” is what I heard (I COULD be misquoting). They had some fan girls in the crowd, dancing to their set, and you could tell it wasn’t anybody’s first time. Maybe not here and now, but we were happily familiar with, and perhaps nostalgic for this old school vibe done right. One guy in the crowd, I noticed, had the coolest fuckin’ Roy Orbison t-shirt I’ve ever seen. Maybe the only Roy Orbison shirt I’ve ever seen, and I knew right then that everybody in this bar was where they were supposed to be. *My dude, if ever you want to sell that shirt… They finished with a slow, reverby jam, and I was eased back to just about full-strength. There were 3 open umbrellas on the floor of the performance area, maybe out of superstition, or maybe just for aesthetic curiosity. They finished with a slow, reverby jam, and I was eased back to just about full-strength.

After Johnie Lee Jordan & The Boys finished, I made my way over to Muchmore’s to see the Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen showcase, featuring an insane twelve bands. I arrived at around 7:30, and saw the stage, but nothing on it. This was to be a floor show. Bands and gear were setting up on the floor. Cool. A drag queen MC started things off and introduced the first band, Toot Sweet. They had an accordion. Need I say more? Accompanying the instrument of instruments were keys, bass, drums, and two lovely backup singers. They played an obviously French-infused slow pop that was catchy and deep. Their third song sounded like something you’d hear on the soundtrack of a pirate movie directed by Quentin Tarantino. Midway through the set the mademoiselle on accordion hopped on the keyboard, and the dude on keys hopped on a trumpet! Things turned kind of synth-funky, proving these guys’ uniquely cool versatility. Oh. And this guy on trumpet? He could play. Take it from a so-so ex-trumpeter.

So I was sitting (again!? Yes!) on this old Victorian style couch, my left arm throbbing softly and the rest of me humming along as these songs became more soulful. The pace picked up a little towards the end of the set, and it was hammered home that this was a fun group. There was unbelievably enough seating for just about everyone, though people were standing, and those who were standing were dancing. Everyone bopped. Essentially, I came to this showcase for something different. My band recorded (is still recording) with Mama Coco’s, and I knew that their brand of band marches to the beat of its own drum. I believed I was to achieve perfect diversity.

I wasn’t disappointed. Swaai Boys came on at around 8:20. I saw a couple of guitars, a bass, a drum kit, a secondary drum setup with bongos (?) with… a makeshift palm tree attached to it? These guys played a tropical, island funk, which was really cool to hear (No, not Jimmy Buffett. Fuck Jimmy Buffett!). They played music as though it was their vacation (I don’t care how cheesy that sounds), bringing tasteful (thank god) and completely appropriate up-struck chord changes, over beach-y drumbeats, and that secondary percussionist going nuts with his maraca. It was around this time I started drinking. I’d been drinking all day. Tattoo-drinking. My friend showed up and we started doing shots of soju. Holy shit, $2 soju. On top of $3 Buds. It began to get hazy here.

At 9pm, Mothers (if you know their site's link, please send it to us) played, and to absolutely no fault of theirs, my attention began to crumble. What I do recall, I liked a lot. Punk-infused driving rhythms, and very interesting things being done with vocal matchings. The tones were chaotic, but constantly reconstructed in a way that was fresh and exciting. The drummer was nuts, keepings coherence through the whole thing, hitting harder and heavier than average. But soon, I succumbed. Alcohol beat the shit out of me. I stayed through the Britanys’ set, but I gotta be honest, I couldn’t tell you a whole lot after Mothers. I wound up missing the Sacred Bones showcase at Trans Pecos, probably the one showcase I was looking forward to the most. I missed a full set from Dream Police. I missed Moon Duo. I missed Amen Dunes. I missed Marissa Nadler. And it was because, like an asshole, I couldn’t keep my focus. Pace is the trick, as Interpol would say. I went home bitterly annoyed, and obviously inebriated, searching bodegas and gas stations for A & D ointment for my new tattoo. Lesson learned.