Week in Review: The F. Scott Fitzgerald of American Indie Rock


In the week in which everyone went to rock and roll fantasy camp–whether it be the one that takes place inside the Colbert Report studios with the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle or the one that takes place on the disco dance floor with Vince Aletti, thirty years after that disco dancefloor ceased to exist–all we got was this lousy ABC News video bearing our budding media superstar buddy’s misspelled name.

Speaking of fantasy camp, Bruce Springsteen brought Darkness on the Edge of Town to Giants Stadium–a venue he’ll officially bury tonight–while They Might Be Giants did their wildly age-inappropriate thing at the Natural History Museum, and Sufjan Stevens got predictably twee at the Bowery Bowery.

One person who refuses to indulge: Beth Ditto, who is not sorry about much, she told us, while Steve Martin is sorry about all kinds of things, Eugene Mirman is Eugene Mirman, and Hard Party’s Gary Richards isn’t apologetic about not booking a single New York act at this weekend’s inaugural throwdown, but is sorry about that whole debacle out in California a few months back.

Reality’s always sort of blurry with in-house Yes in My Backyard procurer Christopher R. Weingarten, who this week wrangled both Drunkdriver’s “It Never Happened” and Dinowalrus’ “Electric Car, Gas Guitar.” Vampire Weekend, Amazing Baby, Woods, and Grouper also debuted new material, while our governor made an intriguing cameo in a very old video alongside KRS-One and BDP.

Bricks and mortar facts: There’s a new venue out in South Williamsburg called The Woods, which has all sorts of mobile food to go, while 205 Club, an old and not particularly loved venue over on this side of the river, is probably no more. Good Records, meanwhile, lives on.

Plus that vast miscellany of everything else, including true-crime stories about Shyne, Japanther, Tony Yayo, Major Mackerel, and Asher Roth (imagine that police lineup), health updates from Adam Yauch and the lack thereof from Courtney Love, reunions (Jawbox, Pavement) and comebacks (Barbra Streisand?) galore, etc. etc. etc.

Finally, and on a note sad enough to keep us ducking it till now: R.I.P. Suzanne Fiol, a friend and inspiration to an awful lot of people. Remember her tonight, if you care to.