Best Deals: Ba Xuyen

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Nothing undiscovered here.  I don’t think too many people who’ve tried it would argue that the Banh Mi at Ba Xuyen in Sunset Park’s Chinatown is as good as it gets.  These damn sandwiches are also $4.50, tax included.  Don’t be stupid, just try this place.  Perfectly toasted french bread with grilled pork, meatballs, vietnamese BBQ patty things, more.  8 in all.  Pickled daikon, carrots, cucumbers, jalapenos, cilantro, you know the score.  And of course the pate, which is what guaranteed that my kids wouldn’t eat it.  You can ask them to hold the pate, though I’m not sure why you would want to do this.  Start with the number #8 (grilled pork) and work your way up to #1, the kitchen sink option. FrancoViet sandwiches rule.

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“My wish is that one day scientists will be able to harness our food photos and turn them into fuel.” – Jon Wurster

Ba Xuyen
4222 8th Avenue
Brooklyn

Train: D to 9th Avenue

Lawsuits Live 2013: FLAG in New York

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L-R: Greg Ginn, Keith Morris

“This is a disclaimer. We are not Black Flag.  We are FLAG. We play the music of Black Flag.” – Keith Morris, September 19, 2013 (before a note was played)

A lot has been said about Greg Ginn’s lawsuit against “FLAG”. Most of the associated internet trolling paints Black Flag founder, guitarist, songwriter, and sole financial proprietor as some kind of Mike Love-like ogre.  While this is true, he is more than just a sketchy businessman who screwed over the best members of his former group (and also Henry Rollins.  And every artist that ever appeared on his SST label).  Greg Ginn is a musician tied sonically to the music of Black Flag.  His great start/stop/off-kilter guitar riffs are probably the most recognizable thing about them.  He is also the only consistent member of the band since he started it.

Back in June, I enjoyed the Greg Ginn Black Flag experience at Warsaw in Greenpoint, with Chavo Ron Reyes — the Decline of Western Civilization-era lead singer.  Before that show, there was a huge amount of negative hype online because of some shitty quality YouTube videos circulating. They sounded so bad!  I had tickets but my friend bailed on me and honestly I didn’t really want to go either.  “Nobody wants to go to this bullshit,” said my friend Pat D, who was offered a free ticket to the sold out show.  But cameraphone vids are an unfair benchmark.  Amazingly, they sounded great and completely rocked all the hits.  Greg seemed very gracious and appreciative, and I got wasted on Jameson’s with a date I met on the Internet (I otherwise would have had to eat the ticket).

FLAG were also really good and in some ways completely great.  Even considering it was at Irving Plaza, possibly the worst venue in NYC and filled with distateful people from all age groups.  Bill Stevenson is an unrelenting machine on drums.  One of the best punk rock drummers of all time and appropriately on this SPIN list of best “alternative” drummers (writeup by funnyman Jon Wurster).  Original Black Flag singer Keith Morris is a national treasure. He’s been with us all along, most notably with the Circle Jerks and now recently with the popular supergroup OFF!  Keith is still completely manic and effective.  The founding father of hardcore.  They sounded amazing running through the early hits — and on Nervous Breakdown I finally let my guard down and banged my head like a kid. Dez Cadena, the guy that Henry Rollins modeled his schtick on, did a set of pre-Rollins numbers (Thirsty and Miserable, American Waste, Six Pack, etc).  Chuck Dukowski wailed around the stage like a punk rock grandpa. Pretty cute stuff.  My one issue was with beloved later-Descendents/ALL guitarist Stephen Egerton.  While he’s a great player, the way he aped Ginn’s guitar solos note-for-note really bothered me.  Greg may deserve this big “fuck you” but it offended my musical senses.

A full Black Flag reunion with Ginn and this line up of FLAG would be completely incredible but of course this is an impossibility.

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Uninspired novelty Raymond Pettibon poster

Shayna’s Punim

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Joyce, owner and cook at Shayna’s Restaurant reminded me a little of my favorite grandma in appearance (but not  white, Jewish, or Canadian).  Real deal home-cooked Trinidadian food going on in her confines. Her freshly made Roti is one of the best gluten-based objects I’ve found in the borough.  I was confused when she asked me if I wanted the chicken wrapped up in the Roti versus on-the-side, so I said yes.  Golf-ball-sized pieces on the bone but I don’t think that sweet lady was trying to choke or kill me.  It wouldn’t have been possible to pick it up like a burrito.  She asked me if I wanted it hot and she didn’t believe me when I said yes.  She seemed proud of her chilies so gave me the hot sauce on the side.  It was good but not as hot as she claimed and it wasn’t enough.  I used it all too quickly, since it was a giant, 1500 calorie Roti, probably. Delicious.

I need to go back and try the Doubles, tamarind-sweetened fried bread filled with curried garbanzos. Apparently they run out quickly in the morning, even though they seem more like a lunch-type sandwich.

She’s soon to be featured in a book about the immigrant experience and hangs with a top chef.  Some good pictures of her work here, thanks for the story and the tip Ditmas Park Corner!

Shayna’s Restaurant
907 Church Ave
Brooklyn

Train: Q to Church or F to Ft. Hamilton

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Shaynas_menu

Still The Biggest Balls in the Business. Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band Live

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Bowery Ballroom, NYC, Sunday, September 16, 2013
Sold Out

Very few people accept the idea that watching Yoko Ono do her thing is entertaining.  It’s interesting how you get universally similar reactions from very different types of people, all very negative. But to paraphrase Bill Murray in Stripes, one day Yoko Ono is going to die and you’re gonna say “I’ve been listening to her for years and I think she’s fabulous.”  Sure enough, Yoko is now 80 years old.  My dad was 81 when he died but he seemed decades older.  She is still an all-out assault on your senses, ululating, sonically reverbulating, the like — but when combined with this particularly heavy crack incarnation of the Plastic Ono Band, the results are BIG.  Head banging music.

This night was Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band’s  only 2013 show, and it featured one Yoko, one Yuka, and one Yuko. They opened up with the show with an hour of Yoko’s films, some dating back to 1966.  Bare 60s asses, and so on.

The band is amazing.  Yuko Araki from a group called mi-gu is a seriously demure powerhouse drummer. They had to set up the fiberglass around her she didn’t blast waif Yoko out into the audience. A big room drummer. Behind the keys was her eminence (based on audience reaction) Yuka Honda from Cibo Matto. Yuka’s husband Nels Cline, feedback-enthusiast and Thurston Moore-gentrifier, most commonly associated with the dinner-party rock group Wilco was impressive on guitar, as he usually is.  If anything, he deferred to the band leader and Yoko.  Cline seemed to be channeling Adrian Belew at times, with an enjoyable 70s Talking Heads groove there for a good chunk of the show. The bandleader, as it were, is Sean Lennon — even though I didn’t realize it until three-quarters of through the show. Pushing 40, Seanboy is a surprisingly musical multi-instrumentalist.  He has so much to work against, the reputation of every Jason Bonham, Ziggy Marley, or Julian Lennon (did I really need to say it?).  He held his own against Nels Cline on guitar and generally guided the direction of the attack. The show featured one surprise guest, utility man Earl Slick from the mid-80s not-so-supergroup “Phantom, Rocker, and Slick” and John and Yoko’s Double Fantasy album. Slick’s pentatonic focus added a bluesier angle to Yoko’s guitar army on the last few songs, including Don’t Worry, Kyoko.

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So, the question is: If Yoko Ono rocks hard live and nobody is there to hear it and nobody believes you because they can’t imagine how anyone could listen to that shit — did it really make a sound? <ululate>YES!</ululate>

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Top photo: James Prochnik

Soul Legend Melvin Davis at Littlefield, Brooklyn

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Some singers never lose their voice.  Everyone can think of a few that have.  Other voices were never great to begin with so it doesn’t matter so much when they start to go downhill.  Melvin Davis has never lost his great voice.  At Littlefield in Gowanus on Saturday, he sounded the same as he did on his great singles from the mid-60s, which I have to admit I wasn’t really familiar with.  It was a real joy to watch this thrilled, deeply gracious 71 year old guy talk about his life in music and sing his never-hits.  Davis has had in hand in so many different a) labels b) instruments in Detroit during its 60s musical hey day.  He recorded for the amazing Fortune label but was also Smokey Robinson’s drummer for two years, on hits like Tears of a Clown, etc.  Think about the thunderous drums on that track.  Maybe it’s because he didn’t only focus on singing that his voice never got shot.

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Melvin Davis never made much money. “My values don’t start with money,” he said humbly with a smile. “Not that that it isn’t on my list.”  Adorable.  This is a big man we’re talking about.  Literally, the dude has gotta be at least 6’5 too. He thanked the popular Northern Soul movement from Blighty for appreciating all his obscure songs that didn’t make him any money at the time but that are in our hearts now.  He showed real gratitude that he could come out and play to excited audiences, because of this renewed interest.

The Brooklyn Rhythm Band backed Melvin with a super-pro vintage sound and authentic playing.  Completely complementary and not the slightest bit distracting,

Humbleness was the overriding theme of the night and it didn’t stop with the star of the show.  Afterwards, I noticed Norton Records co-honcho Billy Miller waiting in line with a crowd of fans who wanted to meet him.  Not only is Billy his personal friend of Melvin Davis — but he’s also reissuing some of his early work on Norton!  See below.  But he patiently waited with other fans get a word because above all Billy and his wife Miriam Linna are themselves big fans.  Also, Norton’s business  was recently savagely humbled by Frankenstorm Sandy, when their entire warehouse in Red Hook got destroyed — but they landed on their feet with the help of legions of fan volunteers.

This great show was brought to us by Brooklyn-based series called Dig Deeper. — and I reckon we should all stay on their list and keep an eye out for what else they have in store.  Barbara Lynn is teed up to play Littlefield in Mid-October

Update: Just saw that Dig Deeper posted a video clip of the first song Melvin Davis did at this show, which I missed.  It’s was Chains of Love, which I just saw The Dirtbombs do earlier in the day and probably their best known song. I did not know Melvin Davis did the original.

Dirtbombs Back on the Street, Autumn Afternoon Rock Treat

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I’m single again and it was Saturday. Brooklyn Vegan pointed out that The Dirtbombs from Detroit, Michigan were playing a block party in Tribeca at 3pm in the afternoon. It was sponsored by a company called Shinola , a Detroit company that makes watches.  Between this and the recently unveiled Nokia SmartWatch, somehow I’m now aware that people still wear watches.

I first came in contact with Mick Collins at Maxwell’s in Hoboken somewhere around 1990 (possibly 1989) when his amazing band the Gories opened a show for a less memorable band, since I really can’t recall who it was.  I had never seen anything like it and to be honest I was pretty shocked by their messy assault, at first.  I thought they were terrible.  How did they even get the gig?  I thought their black singer obviously had a great voice, like a vintage soul man – but I was just not ready for the trash heap, which I found overpowering from a conceptual perspective.  Jarring.  But like many tastes, you acquire them.  Any Captain Beefheart fan will tell you that.  And I’ve been a fan of Mick Collins for awhile, through the great Blacktop record and now his shit with The Dirtbombs

I first heard the Dirtbombs with their Ultraglide in Black LP, one of the best rock albums to come out around the time of 9/11 -2001.  I also saw them live around that time and they were damn heavy — but then I lost track of what they were doing. They put out a record that was all techno covers and they sorta lost me.  I stopped giving a shit.

BUT CHRIST ON A CRACKER THEY ARE BACK!  The new record is a 60s bubblegum tribute and they sound great again.  I was intrigued by a sample I heard (see Soundcloud embedded below).  The full album is available for streaming on Spin.

Anyway, I got on my bike and weaved through endless tourist cattle walking on the Brooklyn Bridge.  I got to Franklin Street just as the Dirtbombs were about to go on. Good timing.  And they sounded fucking great. The show was way too quick but they exceeded most benchmarks for “rocking at street fairs”.  Also, considering Mick was playing a cheap ass Squier Strat with a lone fuzzbox.  Look, I have some issues with Stratocasters, both their sound and also sometimes the people who choose to play them — but he pulled it off anyway. Great version of Sly Stone’s Underdog (YouTube below).  Heavy and to-the-point, or way too short, both.  About 30 minutes. An autumn afternoon rock treat.

Cut-Off Signs, Revolving Doors

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Lately I keep noticing vintage but cut-off signs. This one is around the corner from my apartment on Foster Avenue, the street that cuts up Ditmas Park and Fisk Terrace/Midwood. Somewhere around this building lives a girl I kissed once at Sycamore then took out to dinner one time. She moderated comments online for a large new organization. The net-net is there was no there there.  Really, I think it was just kind of rude for the Chinese restaurant to cover up the sign like this.

Raymond Pettibon Loves to Draw Coyks

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After an uncomfortably slow day at work, I walked over to the David Zwirner Gallery to see the latest Raymond Pettibon installation,To Wit.  I’ve been staring at his eerie and profoundly disturbing images for over 25 years, ever since the early Black Flag and Minutemen album covers.

He is the artist behind one of the most popular tattoos in history and now has a completely baffling Twitter presence.

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I can’t think of a more aggressive or controversial guy.  He created the flyer that enraged an LAPD already bent on kicking punks’ ass in the early 80s.  It resulted in an unfair reputation for the LA Hardcore scene that laddered up/down to Prime Time TV.  Shows like Quincy ran episodes that focused on LA punk as a violent death cult.  We can thank Raymond Pettibon and Black Flag.

This show is good.  Hastily put together becomes Pettibon.  With his art, there’s a baseline expectation that you’ll see some fucked up images that you can’t unsee and he succeeds.  Lots of it is trying too hard, though. The phrases painted around his works read a lot like his tweets with obvious but consistent misspellings. Built to confuse. The language also explicitly acknowledges excessive alcohol as an influence on his life and art.  I was starting to wonder if he’s trying to become a punk rock Foster Brooks.  Lots of hard cocks too.  All over. Ray is a dirty, dirty old man, man.

Overall, an enjoyable show.

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The giant hardbound book they’re selling looks fantastic but is $60.  Hmmm.

19th Street between 10th and 11th
September 12 – October 26, 2013

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Your Neighbors

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Flatbush

Do you have any weird neighbors?  There’s a couple who lives upstairs from me and the guy does a high speed chanting early in the mornings.  It’s not a Muslim prayer…way too fast for that.  He’s very strange and repetitive, increasing in intensity over the course of sometimes 20 minutes.  I’m talking about a creepy voodoo man.

There is also a sociopathic hoarder one floor up.  My Super told me the police came because they thought there was a dead body but it was raw chicken on the  floor.  There is a movement by tenants to try to get her kicked out.

Brooklyn Wort: Undiscovered Beers, Heartbreak

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Q: Why would someone drink from 1-5 in the afternoon on a Sunday?
A: You’re breaking up with me

Brooklyn Wort is an annual homebrew competition sponsored by Sycamore, my neighborhood bar – and Brooklyn Homebrew supplies place.   I don’t have an interest in making my own beer but I do like trying experimental hooch, so I rode my bike over to Bell House in Gowanus on Sunday, September 8, 2013

30 home brewers who reside in Kings County poured their soul and hoppy tears into cute little tasting glasses (see above) with the hopes of winning a prize of $1000.  The first beer I tried, “Jaded Hipster” APA, was amazing.  I figured I had a winner right there — because not one of the next 10 came close. Several didn’t even come close to being drinkable.  But then I tried “Fresh Squeezed Orange IPA Not From Concentrate” and I knew I had tasted something even more special and delicious, so I voted for the nice folks behind that one.  I have no idea who won but it was great and I’m relieved I didn’t die or get a BUI on my way home.

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After I arrived back in Ditmas Park, I sent a gchat instant message to the lady I’ve been seeing the past 4 months.  A sweet,  beautiful, and sexy young Puertorriqueña  — but I guess it’s true I had been pulling back a little on the whole thing and she was starting to notice.  She flat out stated that I was breaking up with her.  I was so drunk and weary. I guess I was in no position to to be having that discussion at that moment.  I think she had a few too.  But I realized for sure that I was in fact ending it, though it took another 12 hours.  It really sucked to be a part of that.  She was clearly hurt but I was relieved, so I guess that’s pretty telling.  Then later in the day I ate the last of the mayo that she whipped up freshly and furiously with her sexy arms the week before.

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EZ Directions to Basquiat’s Grave

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“This way…but first lie down on the ground and I will show you my face”

Down the road sandwiched between Kensington and Sunset Park/South Slope is historic Green-Wood Cemetery. There are some incredible monuments and tombs dating back to the mid-1800s. Green-Wood loves to have visitors and even seems to boast its own tourism bureau! I actually think they sometimes have activities for kids, so check the schedule. Round up the little ones and bring em down to the graveyard.

To locate Basquiat’s modest resting place, enter the grounds on Ft. Hamilton Parkway near McDonald Ave (Saturday and Sunday until 4 only), or on 5th Avenue for a longer, scenic walk (every day). Make a left when you enter the cemetery (the road is called Border Avenue) and take it to “Grape Avenue.”  When you reach the intersection of “Fir Avenue,” start cutting through diagonally until you reach a row of small headstones.  See map at the bottom of this post for more details

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Just be respectful. Don’t treat him like you might Jim Morrison.

On the way to locating Jean-Michel, a large tomb caught my eye — and so did the words “The Eminent Minstrel” and “None knew him, but to love him.” Interesting placement of comma. Turns out he was William West, leader of one of the most successful minstrel acts in history. I wonder what that does for racial tensions within the art community resting at Green-Wood.

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Trains:
Closest: F to Ft. Hamilton Parkway (entrance to cemetery only open Sat-Sun 9-4)
Works: N/R/D to 36th Street (take a nice long walk through the length of Green-Wood anyday. Enjoy tons of beautiful things and historic creepy things).

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