clubbed to death.

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13 november 1997

5:19 p.m.

Dear diary, And then there was... well, not many. On Saturday, I'm going to see Dance Hall Crashers in concert. A forbidden luxury expense, I know, but it had to be done. Besides, Derek promised to buy me a T-shirt, cutting my expected budget by nearly half. It's not that I'm that big a fan of DHC. Not anymore, anyway. Ever since they dumped their brass (now two albums ago), they're fairly indistinguishable from any other backwater punk band. And while I guess you could say so before, now the complaint "every song sounds the same" rings especially true. No, I'm actually not too enamoured of the stuff I've heard (on KPOI... who would've thought?) from their latest effort, which no doubt will form the core of Saturday's show. Nonetheless, I have to be there. Nimitz Hall -- formerly The Groove, formerly something else, and before that a long list of other names I'm sure -- is closing. Yes, the site of my first and last near-fatal foray into a mosh pit, where I was hit in the head by a flying freebie CD and didn't even get to take it home, where I swayed to the Cocteau Twins and bounced to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones before they became famous. After Saturday, we're probably going to have to wait for Don Ho to die so we can use that space dome of his. Actually, there's been an unusual amount of attention to the hall's shut down in the news, at least compared to the kind of exposure anything semi-alternative usually gets. Despite the fact that it was one of the only moderately sized concert venues (note that "hall" is misleading -- it's a cavernous warehouse), there simply wasn't enough acts, fans, and dollars to maintain the place. What I didn't know was that the place was owned by Goldenvoice, the folks who have always worked their hearts out to bring worthwhile bands to the islands. That a company that usually only books acts had to run its own concert hall says volumes about our withering music scene. So, the DHC concert is in part a farewell to the splintered wooden stage, the corrugated metal walls, the funky mezannine bar... First Radio Free Hawai`i and now this. It's becoming less and less fun to live in this town. Good thing I'm getting older. By the time all the fun stuff is gone, I'll be playing Connect Four on my bright white porch at a "community for active seniors" in Kapolei. I think someone in my building has a new karaoke machine. Either that, or Jewel went and released an a cappella album I don't know about, featuring tortured howls, Shatner-esque dramatic pauses and throaty whispers. Actually, she does sound a lot like Jewel... especially if Jewel started a second career in the phone sex business. She should get together with Guitar Man downstairs. After extensive reflection, his strength isn't his singing voice. Would surprise anyone that this realization came during his newly adopted 2 a.m. practice schedule? I've been playing with my CD-ROM drive. I found the long sought-after "Shoe Box" E.P. from the Barenaked Ladies at the Radio Free Music Center. (Bless that store and its used CD bins... I nabbed it for $2.29). In addition to a frighteningly alt-pop "radio mix" of the title song and an early recording of their infamous "If I Had $1,000,000," it's got a heap of other goodies crammed onto it. It's the same setup as the enhanced CD portion on the "Born on a Pirate Ship" album, but with six, seven times the material. Interviews, a... revealing quiz game, and aideos from a dozen songs -- including songs from their first album, "Gordon," that I didn't even know they made videos for. (Don't ask my why I have an affinity for Canadian groups. I'm equally proud of my Crash Test Dummies collection.) Being oddly mesmerized by this "multimedia" thing, I looked around for other stuff to spin. I found a "Launch" disc at my mom's of all places, sent to her back when she was foolish enough to consider signing up for AOL and made the mistake of giving them her address. Sarah McLachlan treats notwithstanding, the whole "Launch" setup is atrocious. And to think I almost subscribed. There's more advertising on the thing (including what seems like the entire annoying series of Paul Reiser 1-800-CALL-ATT television ads) than anything remotely music or movie related. I also found a "virtual test drive" promo for the Ford Escort. Purely commercial, but at least honestly so. It was worth loading just for the little animated squirrel. "Bean" was great. I'll confess it wasn't as insanely great as I thought it'd be -- mostly because the best parts were actually from the better skits in the series -- but it still had its bust-a-gut laughs. I heard it's number two nationwide, but it's sure not from Hawai`i numbers. While it sold out opening night (to my resounding disappointment), the second night there was lots of room. What's more, I kept getting the feeling Rowan Atkinson's finer, more subtle comedic stylings were entirely lost on most of the people in the theater, who laughed mostly at the overt toilet humor. One guy was snoring. Loudly. The fun never stops. Tomorrow comes "Starship Troopers" with Derek and his coworkers. It barely beat out "Gattaca" as the evening's choice. I've read so many widely varying reviews of both (the former further marred by the fact that its director was also responsible for "Showgirls"), I figured they're both worth a chance. The special effects in "Starship Troopers" are supposed to be unprecedented, and the genetic engineering premise of "Gattaca" is irresistibly trendy.