Moses Archueleta and Christopher Bear; photo by Cami
Deerhunter vs. Grizzly Bear, Interpol DJ sets
Saturday, April 19
was saw celebrations for both Earth Day and Record Store Day—somebody really should’ve also christened it Newspaper Day for the whole loser-take-none trifecta. Could’ve been Drummer Day too, at least in the East Village: Other Music had billed their drive-time DJ slots as “Deerhunter vs. Grizzly Bear” followed by “Interpol.” I envisioned this to mean Bradford Cox blasting Kim Deal tunes for 90 minutes while GB bassist Christopher Taylor looked on amusedly, followed by Carlos D playing records only from acts who wear suits. Instead it was each band’s respective kit-pounders who spun the wax, i.e. Moses Archueleta, Christopher Bear, then Sam Fogarino.
The DJ booth was set up in Other Music’s far corner, like the dairy aisle in a grocery store—no quick in-and-out for this Blue Milk. Christopher Bear and Moses Archueleta hung out back there, politely answering what-is-thises about B-sides chosen from unfamiliar compilations (i.e. Golden Flamingo Orchestra’s “The Guardian Angel Is Watching Over Us” from Uptown Disco Juggernaut). Meanwhile, at least 50 people rubbed butts in the narrow-passaged racks while shopping or pretending to shop and spying on the DJs. Except for the pair of jerks who held the A-C bins of the “In” section hostage for 20 minutes while they babbled about Slowdive—could you get your man parts away from that Blood on the Wall record, please? In another corner, a long-haired waif who knew enough to know better asked a clerk what she should buy: “I’ve been listening to Destroyer. And somebody gave me the Black Mother Super Rainbow record and I like that fine. But I could use something new. What do you recommend?” Uh, the Internet?
But bringing up the Internet on Record Store Day is kinda like going to see Interpol in a Joy Division shirt. And so a few minutes after five, Sam Fogarino showed up with a stash of vinyl, introduced himself to Moses and Chris, and put on some disco. Meanwhile outside on the sidewalk, a long-haired dude about to enter the store stopped abruptly and cursed: “FUCK!” Long pause. “I forgot what T-shirt I was wearing.” It was a Joy Division classic, the Unknown Pleasures cover—might as well have been an iTunes face-tattoo. He stood there for a second, then went inside anyway. Somewhere Amanda Palmer was in her underwear.