Highlights From The Holiday Weekend: Good Hair, Better Sightlines At Monster Island And Bruar Falls


In Waste Of Paint, our writer/artist team of Jamie Peck and Debbie Allen will review goings-on about town in words and images.

Does anyone who goes to local rock shows actually have their shit together enough to get out of town on Independence Day? I didn't used to think so, but now I can say with authority that they do. Half the audience seemed to be missing at all the concerts I went to this weekend, including my usual partner in crime, who abandoned me for the pleasures of a non-mutual friend's cabin in Pennsylvania. She probably drew these pictures while floating in the middle of a lake somewhere, watching the sun set over the forest, and drinking a cocktail made from local, artisanal blackberry jam. What a bitch. (I miss you. Please come home.)

Debbie Allen

During Friday's sparsely attended Showpaper benefit at Monster Island Basement, Total Slacker gave a performance that was more chilled out than usual, but fun nonetheless. The crowd's laid-back vibe actually suited their self-described brand of slacker rock pretty well; they started out with some languid, fuzzed-out jams, which everyone nodded along to in a way that seemed to say, "We're sad we couldn't escape this concrete hell-box, but we're happy to be seeing you nonetheless, Total Slacker." Front man Tucker Rountree manages to echo both Thurston Moore and Lou Reed with his half-sung, half-spoken lyrics about being young, broke, and in love with a girl (specifically: his girlfriend, bassist Emily Oppenheimer), as well as with New York City. His guitar solos started out with room to breathe, but often ended with him on the floor by his guitar amp, making as much noise as possible. Oppenheimer's solid bass riffs and sweet backing vocals brought Kim Deal to mind. "I'm not sure he's that much worse than Thurston Moore," my friend said to me during the set's noisy climax. That might be going a bit far, but I do agree that TS is one of the more underrated bands in Brooklyn. Tucker's bowl cut isn't a sign that he and his bandmates don't know what they're doing.

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