The Afghan Whigs Live at the Bowery Ballroom

Lynn woke me up at 6:30 asking if I was ready to go.

It took me a minute to process the thought. It’s daytime, as in the streets are lit by things that are not electricity. But I’m still a step behind, so I get off my ass and hit the shower. The doors open at 7:30, which means the first band goes on at 9:00 at the earliest and the headliner will stop drinking tea with honey and start smoking until at least 9:45.

Turned out Lynn was on the sync of time a half an hour before me. I was out of the shower and on the 1 train by 7:45.

Perfect timing.

Got there at around 8. We went in and found ample space at the bar. Soon enough, the crowd began to pour in. They were mostly nice, feeling an urgency to discuss the most recent Twilight Singers show.

I had the ace in my back pocket. I had seen the Afghan Whigs the day Kurt’s death was announced in April of 94.

This blew some people’s minds.

But I looked around the bar and saw old people. I wondered if I looked like them.

The crowd grew and we got to know the bartender wearing the DJ Bonebreak t-shirt. She kept the drinks coming.

Soon I feel the need to pee. When I came back, there was a weird man encroaching upon my girl. I elbowed my way between them, to her relief, but not his. He tapped me on the shoulder and said. “What the fuck, I was here first.” I told him I had been there for an hour-and-a-half and that he was free to reach in for a drink, but not take my space at the bar. Or my girlfriend. This upset him. Unfortunately, he called me a dick. I began to turn around. He soon camouflaged himself into the background.

Either I’m getting big or he was a wuss. Either way, he was the only asshole we encountered the entire night. For an Afghan Whigs show is full of cool people.

We smelled weed from the smoking lounge, then soon enough in the bar. We made more friends. We even bought t-shirts.

Then it was show time.

We made our way upstairs to the ballroom and decided not to encroach upon those who had made their way up earlier. 100 feet away was cool.  We saw everything and heard every note.

Then it was after show time and Matt Pinfield, the longtime Alternative DJ, on radio and at clubs, as well as the host of MTV’s 120 Minutes was there. And for once, all hell didn’t break loose. He said .”Hello, Patrick.” and went to pee. I wanted to get a pic with him, but felt weird after staging it with Lynn after his bladder relief. I just let it go. He’s a cool dude.

We had a final drink at our own downstairs table, found a cab, and made our way up Broadway.

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