Sunday In New York: Death Grips Give Rock Beach A Demonic Chill
In Waste Of Paint, our writer/artist team of Jamie Peck and Debbie Allen will review goings-on about town in words and images.
Spurred on by our desire to get away from the cement inferno our city had become, Debbie and I ventured to what seemed like the ends of the Earth (or at least the city) yesterday for the second installment of Jelly NYC's Rock Beach concert series. Although it's only about ten miles from Williamsburg, former military base Floyd Bennett Field seems like another time and place entirely, surrounded as it is by acres of overgrown fields, marinas, beaches and marshland. It's also right next to the Aviator Sports and Events Center, which tempts sweaty concertgoers with a year-round ice skating rink. (Maybe next time.)
We arrived to find all our favorite diversions from Jelly parties past and more: inflatable slip n' slide, actual above ground pools, shirtless guys playing dodge ball, and plenty of cold beer. The only thing missing? A whole lot of people. But what the crowd lacked in numbers, it more than made up for in enthusiasm; there were two bikini-clad girls in particular who never stopped dancing, even when the music got sort of confusing to move to. (Hats off to you, dancing bikini girls.)
Debbie Allen
The first band, Brooklyn's Night Manager, did not present the bikini twins any problems. With a straightforward line-up of drums, bass, guitar, and a singer who only sings (a relative rarity on the indie rock scene), they filled the large outdoor space with beachy, breezy pop. Although their recordings to date are fairly lo-fi, Jelly's fancy sound system served them well, letting their catchy progressions and '90s-dissonant passages ring out clearly. Caitlin Seager's strong, lilting voice was tickling something in me, and I eventually realized: she sounded kind of like Dolores O'Riordan from the Cranberries! (To The Faithful Departed was one of the first cassettes I owned.)
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