| What I like about it is [that] people's reactions are so extremely polarized. Nobody will just say we're OK because we sound like Sheryl Crow sort of. There's no confusion. It's clear. Either you're into it or you're not. You go to witness a show because you see someone have an experience, and you live all the emotions of that experience voyeuristically. So I plan to play it to the max." Casey asking Roe Ethridge a question: Or shall I say rather, a cutely themed periodical. Um, how do feel, do you feel that… I don't know… Cuteness… Is that a…I mean artists that have been described as (pause) cute or, uh… "Since I've had people make costumes for me, I've become addicted to made-to-measure clothes. I can't look at anything off-the-rack now." They lip-synched the song and performed a dance routine that consisted mostly of Casey striking calculated Madonna-in-"vogue"-era poses and strutting around the stage, emerging melodramatically from clouds of smoke and punctuating the occasional bass note with an androgynously seductive thrust of the hips. A journalist after seeing the show: It was unbelievably over-the-top and campy, but—and I'm loathe to admit it—kind of hot. I felt an inexplicable desire to don heavy black eyeliner and lick something. Or someone. Upon resuming his position center stage, he said, "When you have very limited talent...you have to use other things...Like, um, costumes...And makeup." The music stopped; the wind stopped; and Casey deadpanned, "That was about nature." He paused. "And clowns." During a slower number, a few people whipped out lighters like it was a 1989 Bon Jovi concert. Casey interrupted the song. "Is that the best you can do with the fucking lighters?!" he berated the crowd. "Come on! Pretend it's a really big concert!" More snickers. "Okay. But only if you fucking sing along!" he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at the crowd. "If you don't fucking sing the fucking lyrics, I'm walking off this stage!" "Peanuts!" Casey screamed. The stage lackey stood at attention. "Bring me my coat!" "Bring meeee my po-li-ti-cal statement!" he said. "Peanuts" produced a trenchcoat made from an enormous American flag. Now he's cornered behind models, a tan girl in white and a wan girl in black. When asked if he'd like to have a picture taken with them too, Spooner responds,"No thanks. I'm not a big fan of eating disorders and neuroses." But the Strokes' vocalist isn't interested and murmurs something not so nice as he walks through the frame, leaving Spooner high and dry. "Yeah, he dissed me, but that's okay," Spooner says, revealing more about the party than perhaps he should. "That's Julian Casablancas' job -- he's got to act like he's too cool. Me, I've got to act like I want to be in every picture -- that's my job." Spooner pauses, watching Casablancas make his way to the bar, and smiles sadly. "It's like everyone here is putting in their time at the donut factory, waiting to be written up in the gossip pages." If Starbucks were ever to ask them back, there'd be trouble, albeit of an interesting kind. 'I really want to go back,' smiles Spooner, eyes glinting at the idea. 'Ideally, we'd instigate a big caffeine riot'. Spooner followed, but flitted from job to job while "doing unwatchable performance art that was fun for me. I'm doing the same thing now, but I've changed the emphasis and added a backbeat to it". |
| QUOTES 2 |
| So are Fischerspooner 'pop' or 'avant garde'? "I'm over the whole avant garde thing, really," drawls Casey adding, "I'm going stupid." |
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