By Alex Distefano
By Scott Snowden
By Anna Merlan
By Steve Almond
By Jena Ardell
By Jon Campbell
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Tessa Stuart
A new year, some new beginnings. We hear that Plaid management and Paul Sevigny have said sayonara to each other. Sevigny was "double-dipping" at the Marquee on Wednesdays with ex-Plaid-mate Steven Lewis and was also getting a check from Avalon for another Wednesday-night gig. But the DJ was supposed to be part of Plaid's Kitten Klub weekly rock party on the same night (full disclosure: I am booked to spin at the event later this month) with DJs Alexander Thompson and Gibby, promoter Lyle Derek, and hosts Drea De Matteoand Theo (among others), and when Plaid managers found out he was showing up and then sneaking out, they raised hell.
"Double-dipping is dirty and unfair at the crudités tray, so why would I allow that kind of practice in my club?" says general manager Peggy Millard. "I always play fair. When Paul Sevigny came to work one night for 10 minutes, I was generous enough to pay him for 15 minutes ($47). No one can ever say that I wasn't kind to him, and I wish him all the best."
But Sevigny says that he left Plaid largely because of the debacle surrounding the party celebrating the release of the photography book by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Nick Zinner in November, during which the club turned away hundreds of people who had been legitimately on the guest list [see article. "I wasn't rash enough to leave Plaid that second, but over the next couple of weeks, I decided it wasn't for me," says Sevigny. He added that it is understood wherever he works that "if I have a bigger event, I can leave on certain nights. I couldn't have helped what they [Kitten Klub promoters] were doing, and I had a better opportunity somewhere else. There's no bad blood. I hope it works out over there." He's joining the promoters who walked out the night of Zinner's party, including Glynnis McDaris, at the Marquee on Wednesdays, starting January 21.
Also saying sayonara is Drinkland, the venerable East Village spot, which has been sold by owners David and Joe Baxley. The last party under the old owners was on Saturday, January 3, with the Kingsize crew spinning. Joe Baxley points out that Drinkland was one of the first, if not the first "small bar to really focus on DJs. Until we came along, DJs were only really found in big clubs." Indeed, the quirky, nifty '60s-esque space has been the site of many famous DJ sets, including some by Fatboy Slim, Richie Hawtin, and Ed from the Chemical Brothers; even Björk took a turn on the tables. Says Kingsize's Matt Hanrahan, who hosted the final party, "Ah, the memories! Puking, screaming, drinking, spinning (records, and my brain). Truly the end of an era."
Saying hello in Seattle and Chicago this week is the brand-spankin'-new version of Flyer magazine. Editors plan to add four more cities by the end of the year, officially making Flyerinto a national club guide, with all the local listings combined into one magazine. And the little pocket-sized mag is growing to a larger, five-by-seven format. The Flyer folks celebrated last Friday at the Tribeca Grand with sets from DJ Erol Alkan (of London's famed party Trash), plus Glasgow's DJ Twitch and Germany's Headman.
Saying a lot of nasty stuff is Ryan Adams. A recording of two minutes and 47 seconds (to be exact) of Adams whining, griping, and cursing, is making the roundsall of it directed at Chicago Sun-Times writer Jim DeRogatis, who wrote a scathing review of Adams's December 15 show at the Riviera Theatre. (The article begins: "Ryan Adams would like us to think that it's incredibly difficult being Ryan Adamsyoung, talented, clever, and outrageously prolific," and ends, "Note to Ryan Adams: Wish you were anywhere but here.")
Though it was made over two weeks ago, the recording just hit the Web. Choice quotes include: "And, you know, your ending, 'Note to self,' like fuck you man, like fuck you, you asshole. I'm so sick of it" and "You obviously have a problem with me. Not with the music, because you can't refute it. Because it's too fucking good, and you know it is." Adams also adds this thoughtful observation near the end: "I think that you are incredibly petty and you are really, obviously one of these guys who comes to gigs and bums people out and just stands around with your fucking notepad. You don't belong anymore, and you're probably old, and you probably just need to retire."
I'd feel his pain except he uses the words "like" and "you know" more than Cher in Clueless. Ryan, I am, like, awaiting your phone call.