Bad Buka, Worse Than Bad.

By 1 a.m., the room was already charged with energy and excitement. Drinks held in gesturing hands were only slightly responsible. Lively chatter intermingled with the wistful, acoustic blues storytelling sung by Renard Harris‘ harmonica. But his deeply soulful music was not the centerpiece– it was only the backdrop, the calm interlude, to the already-building energy that would soon explode.

Renard Harris on his harmonica

Something big was happening inside this small room, a music hall in East Village known as Drom. Drom had become the venue for the BoB Quarterly show, a competition that brings into the spotlight on a quarterly basis a diversity of up-and-coming bands. At 10 p.m. on Apr. 30, a Saturday night that was already simmering in blossoming romances, laughter, and life, Drom had opened its doors for $20 a ticket. The room was filled, packed with raw excitement from customers prepared to stake the next 6 hours of their night waiting for the competition’s 3 judges to make the final call.

It was finally time– time for Bad Buka, one of seven bands competing at the event, to take the stage. As other bands had done, Bad Buka, an eight-member band made up of 4 men and 4 women, began playing a 30 sec. preview– offering a taste of their gypsy punk rock to its standing audience members. Everything came together beautifully; the crowd was stirring, preparing to be amazed.

And indeed they were, though for reasons not entirely innocent.

The vocalist, a tall, long-haired man, first sang “Sister Mary,” as two female vocalists swerved their heads and swung their arms to the rhythm of the music. Occasionally, their voices came in, but mostly, their voices remained unheard, lost by the sounds of the strumming guitar, the drums, the trumpet, and the violin. As the first song ended, the two female vocalists, on opposite sides of the male vocalist, synchronized to bend their bodies to the same posture. It was dramatic, as so many of their movements later were, but the meaning behind their songs were entirely lost.

Bad Buka's two female vocalists

Perhaps it was the diversity of the other bands that had already been showcased, but Bad Buka, a band which brings their “lively Balkan roots to NYC with the richness of world music, punk rock attitude, and even the spunk of ska,” was nowhere as sophisticated and diverse in sound. The excitement from the audience, though visible and undeniable, was engineered. They cheered, danced, and even jumped, but only after they were prompted by one of the female vocalists.

Undoubtedly, Bad Buka was successful. But by relying on gimmicks, rather than their music, their songs began to feel oddly similar and distasteful. Nonetheless, they were chosen as the People’s Choice and won third overall.

But gimmicks can only get you so far.

Posted in music reviews | 15 Comments

When Music Heals The Heart

Music has always been an essential part of every day life for almost all of society. Let’s be realistic, without music, our lives would most likely be a tragedy. At least that would be my case. I grew up in a country and in a culture were music is essential in our lives. I recall  growing up and always having music present. I would do my chores and my homework while listening to music. I would eat, take a shower, get ready, read books, engaged in conversation with friends and family, and music was always heard in the background. It’s great!

Whenever I get asked what is my favorite song or type of music, i usually reply “I like all kinds of music”. I know- this answer is so common among thousands of people. But in my case, i really do like all kinds of music. Anything from Hip Hop, R&B, Latin music, including Salsa and Merengue, and so on. I particularly like music with a message; music that speaks to my heart or music that i can relate to.  Songs like “Take a Bow” by Rihanna or “Dear Mr. President” by Pink are among my favorite songs becuase I can relate to them.

On the other hand, we have music with no sense or message behind it whatsoever. Songs like “Satisfaction” by Benny Benassi or “Danza Kuduro” by Don Omar are good example of what can be classified as “meaningless” songs, but hey, we got to admit, they are really great songs we can dance to.

Music has the power to heal hearts. If we think about it, whenever we are going through a situation in our lives, there will always be a song that will relate to that situation; a song that will somehow help us feel good and feel better; it will make us smile. This goes without saying that if we are facing a difficult situation, music will help us get through it. By singing those songs that relate to us, our hearts and our minds are expressing their feelings instead of letting them build up inside. At the end of the day, we feel much better. That is the power of music, which is why I say, music heals the heart.

Posted in Music Rant/ love song | 372 Comments

A Bit of Brooklyn to Bite into


In the mystical land of Brooklyn, there lie many foreign and exotic kinds of food and drink. These delicacies are sought after by the bravest of adventurers for one does not simply walk into Brooklyn. The land is separated by a vast uncharted sea and populated by Brooklnites, a strange tribe of people who have great influence on what is fashionable in the civilized world. For those who manage to make a successful voyage to Brooklyn unharmed, its treasures are there for the taking. For those who can’t brave the journey, there is The Brooklyneer.

All joking aside, it’s more than just a little bit silly to make bar themed after another borough, especially one that can be reached within 30 minutes using the subway. The Brooklyneer, located on 220 West Houston St, is a Brooklyn themed bar. In many ways, the place feels like it might be something you’d find in the Universal Studios theme park. However, once you get past the gimmicky nature of the place, there lays a pretty decent place to chill. The interior design is interesting. It is reminiscent of some of the many chic bars you’d find in Williamsburg and they went so far as to even use some of the wood that is from the Coney Island boardwalk.

Depending on the night you go, you could either be listening to a DJ playing club hits or listening to very relaxing smooth music. The first time I visited The Brooklyneer, I was dismayed because the kitchen was closed at the time. Between 1 and 4am the chefs get off of work and the place becomes a full-fledged bar complete with singles trying to hook up. The two chicks I was with pointed out that although the music supported dancing, the space did not and I agreed. The cozy space was not meant for partying à la Ke$ha, however, this was the Saturday night crowd and I suppose they were trying to accommodate for that.

I came back the next night, a Sunday night. Now the atmosphere had changed quite a bit. Things were slow and low key. It was so slow in fact that the bartender, Dylan was happy to personally serve me. Dylan with his French mustache and interesting attire had the appearance of a Williamsburg hipster. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a job requirement or if he dressed like he did all the time.

Welcome to Brooklyn

For my first course, I ordered the Sunset Park sliders. My tongue was first greeted by fresh, oven toasted bread that was warm and soft. As I bit deeper, the tender, moist pulled pork and ham said hello in the juiciest way imaginable. The warm melted gruyere arrived between my tongue and the meats and gave everyone a nice big group hug. Then the spicy mayo showed up and lit its fireworks inside my mouth turning up the heat quite a bit. I finished it off with the crisp cucumber slice that the sliders come with. It was simple and fresh and although it did take a while to arrive at my table after I ordered it, it was well worth the wait.

The Sunset Park slider

I had to make sure that the quality was consistent across the menu so after finishing the sliders, I ordered a chili dog which just happened to also be the special that night. Like before, the order took a bit of time to arrive and like before, the bread was fresh, soft, oven toasted and the veggies were so green, you’d think they had a garden in the back. This time around the meat was a different kind of animal literally and figuratively, they use oven-toasted Mile-End all beef hotdogs. While some dogs can only play dead, what I bit into knew more tricks than there are sex positions in the Kama Sutra.

The Chili Dog

To drink, I ordered the house lager, named The Brooklyneer. It’s the cheapest drink on the menu and for an interesting reason, it’s brewed in Pennsylvania. Unlike the food, the drink isn’t anything special. It isn’t terrible by any means but it also doesn’t stand out. If you just want to have something to wash your food down and get a bit tipsy at the same time, it does the job well enough. Connoisseurs of alcoholic beverages most likely will order many of the other quality drinks on the menu though.

The Brooklyneer is a nice little spot for those who are too lazy to travel across Brooklyn to find the best eats. Though the theme is a gimmick, the food and friendly service are not.

Posted in Food, restaurant reviews | 5 Comments

A Great Big Pile of Nothing

I should’ve expected the worst when a fellow reviewer and I got lost on our way to the venue — an ugly-looking, white-washed building perched between austere apartment buildings and factories perhaps not in use since the child labor laws have been lifted sometime in the early 1900’s. It also didn’t help that it was right next door (and I mean that literally, right next door) to a Western Beef — a supermarket I associate with neighborhoods that are more notorious for their crime rate rather than good choice in music and cuisine. Perhaps I expected too much from Highline Ballroom — hey, maybe the “ballroom” part got to me — but from the outside, the music venue is anything but top of the line.

After a two-flight walk up on rickety stairs wide enough to only accommodate one person at a time, we were met by two Australians — a man and a woman, both dressed in black to match the walls — that appeared to work here. The man scanned our tickets, and the woman politely offered us a table — which, to our horror, came with a $10 per person price tag. Having come from a full day of class and work, we inquired about some sort of coat check. At first, they appeared puzzled, but then informed us that we’re on our own. Strike one against Highline.

The area itself was large and fairly spacious, with two bars on parallel walls and a dining area adjacent to both. The room was well air-conditioned and quite airy — definitely important when packed with hundreds of sweaty, gyrating people. However, packed it was not. Frankly, until the first act, it appeared that there were no more than perhaps 30 or 40 people total on the floor.

Two Lights: Hey, at least the singer's cute.

The first act practically reeked of bubblegum pop and Hollister anthem — a Jonas brothers-y type of band called Two Lights in which the lead singer was cute, the songs were all about summer and breaking up, and the crowd was as enthused as one would be for a root canal.

However, that all changed once A Great Big Pile of Leaves got on stage and began setting up. A mob of tortoise-shell-wearing hipsters rushed forward, pushing to the foot of the stage. Cheers erupted from the pluck of the first guitar string.

They reeked of cliche and unprofessionalism — no introduction to the members (although I was led to assume that one of them was Tyler, due to the yelling from one of the members in the audience), no sound check, no building of a relationship with the members of the audience that weren’t already fans. The songs themselves weren’t catchy in any way, and the melodies were virtually indistinguishable from one another. It was the same breakup, lazy-day crap that Two Lights pulled — just in a scruffier outfit, though I could appreciate the occasional swear or two.

All in all, it was ultimately very forgettable — from the lack of interest to connect to the audience, to the half-assed songs that frankly seemed like a ten year old wrote them (“no time to sleep, no time to eat, trying to make money!” Really?!), a Great Big Pile of Leaves is an act that deserves as little recognition as the effort that they give.

 

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Stuck in the ’80s and Not Trying to Get Out

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I was born into the wrong generation. I’d choose a corny ’80s horror flick over the best CGI or special effects any given day, I don’t think anything could make less sense than paying hundreds of dollars to look like a hippie, and, most unfortunate to me, I could count the number of new mainstream music acts that even slightly arouse my interest on one hand.

I’m not the type to write off all things mainstream at all, I’m always happy to see a good musician gain a huge following when they deserve the attention. Problem is though, that’s just not the case now. People will swarm to buy $400+ tickets to see a washed up pop-star fumble around on stage or be carried and tossed around to the tune of synthesizers and computer-made vocals, but Social Distortion (get ready for some bias, they are my favorite), a well-known and consistently awesome punk band that’s been around forever, still plays small bars and venues, usually for no more than $30.

“Artists” like Ke$ha (it pained me to type that) are praised for their individuality and quirky fashion sense. Meanwhile, if she had come out about twenty years ago when sequined leather shorts and torn up band shirts could be your Sunday best, she wouldn’t automatically join the ranks of ’80s rock goddesses like Siouxsie Sioux, Joan Jett, and Lydia Lunch. She would just be another chick with a crappy voice trying to get attention.

There's a big difference between thrash and trash

I’m not saying everything was better in the ’80s, obviously I wasn’t there and all I have are old records and other people’s memories. But hell, at least the crazy style and brave choices of musicians were great equalizers and allowed the best artists to shine through.

Posted in Music Rant/ love song | 2 Comments

A Great Big Pile of… Well, You Know

Unless most of that line was for Western Beef, this could not have been the same night.

Once you step past the facade of the Highline Ballroom, a dull white brick wall shared with a sketchy looking Western Beef (not that there’s any other kind, to my knowledge), the whole feel of the evening changes. I stepped in out of the misty fog and was immediately greeted by a strange ambiance for a rock show; the only lighting was provided by a few red spotlights over the dining area and bar, a strobe over the empty stage, and a few scattered candles. Strangest of all, to me anyway, was the pleasant smell and cool air; But I suppose I’m just a little too used to basement and garage shows. All of the lovely ambiance and friendly staff, however, couldn’t save the night once the bands took the stage.

I couldn’t tell you much about the first opening act, Two Lights , since I spent a good amount of their Jonas Brothers-esque pop set of breakup songs at the bar wondering if I could possibly justify spending $7 on a beer. After half-hearing a few of their songs, it was more than justified.

I would tell you his name, had he taken the time to introduce himself

I made my way back to the base of the stage to catch A Great Big Pile of Leaves set up, rather unprofessionally at that. There was no sound check, no change in drum kit to accommodate the new drummer, not even an introduction of the band or members, which to me is just a matter of respect for the backup members and establishes a relationship with the crowd, which this typical Indie/Pop-rock trio could’ve used to work up some energy.

As with any local band that performs near their hometown, which for Pete Weiland, Tyler Soucy and Tucker Yaro is Brooklyn, there were some excited fans up front, seemingly friends of the brand, who were able to sing along with the scrappy looking lead singer through all of his melodramatic Hipster anthems like Alligator Bop, which seemed to be their best known track.

It could’ve been the sudden tight gathering of the crowd increasing the temperature in the once comfortable room, but I blame the half hour of bad Indie movie soundtrack being performed on stage for the headache (and for the $25 tab).

All in all, a bad gig with good company to laugh about it with is still a good night in my books. I suppose if I had stuck with my original low expectations and not let the ambiance trip me up, I wouldn’t have been as annoyed. Then again, bad music is bad music no matter the lighting.

 

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Just as Fun as Jumping into a Great Big Pile of Leaves

Awkwardly standing near the stage of the Highline Ballroom with about ten other onlookers scattered around the spacious and dim lit room, I noticed a sudden change in the venue’s atmosphere as the next band made their way towards the stage. The air was now filled with liveliness, as passionate and anxious fans began to crowd into the previously empty room, pushing me closer towards the stage.

A Great Big Pile of Leaves, the three-member indie rock band, possessed exceptional stage presence throughout their live performance.

Gradually working their way into their first song of the evening, A Great Big Pile of Leaves played a flawless two minute long introduction, reminiscent of introductions given by the legendary band, Pink Floyd.

Singer/Guitarist Pete Weiland Performing at the Highline Ballroom

Once lead singer and guitarist Pete Weiland began to sing the show took off, as the supportive and energetic crowd cheered, danced, and banged their hands to the beat against the stage.

Although some songs were repetitive at times, A Great Big Pile of Leaves did everything but bore their crowd. Their most catchy and enticing song, Alligator Bop, is composed of lyrics such as, “We’d drive around for hours with no direction and no goal except to act stupid, and intertwine ourselves into situations to laugh about.” Weiland passionately yet softly sings while innovatively taking simple words and construing them to the beat, repeating certain vowels to give the word a stuttering effect. Weiland’s improper pronunciation at times leads to original sounding lyrics, as the singer manages to stay in tune.

With the electrifying sounds of the guitar, drums and bass bouncing off the walls and causing a rush of adrenaline throughout the audience, the band was applauded for the various techniques used to enhance the sound and quality of their music. Weiland used a technique called finger tapping while playing his guitar, a technique typical in more rock-oriented genres, which was used well during the performance.

“When I heard them I had a very entranced feeling,” said Brooklyn resident Antonio Rosa who attended the show. “The way they organized their music was very atypical which drew my attention greatly.”

Bassist Tucker Yaro Performing at the Highline Ballroom

A Great Big Pile of Leaves, the unique name founded by Weiland, began in 2007 when Weiland and drummer, Tyler Soucy, decided to write material and form their own band, as bassist Tucker Yaro joined later on. Their first full-length record, “Have You Seen My Prefrontal Cortex?” was released the summer of 2010.

Although the band is currently unsigned, they are now on tour, opening for The Appleseed Cast. They will be back on the road again this fall, touring with Motion City Soundtrack, Say Anything, and Saves the Day.

A Great Big Pile of Leaves has great big journey ahead of them.

 

 

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Campbell’s music is icing on the cake for the happy-go-lucky

If listening to soulful music is like treating yourself to a scrumptious piece of red velvet cake on the cheat day of your diet, than Brooke Campbell’s CD Sugar Spoon is the icing on top of it. 01 Sugar Spoon

Campbell is a singer-songwriter virtuoso of folk, pop and bluegrass music. She constructs music that will cause one to long for a simpler country life, reminisce about old loves and new, and think about life’s labors. Singing it all with a country-ish twang and being a mellower version of the Dixie Chicks, Campbell’s music easily matches her upbringing in Whiteville, North Carolina.

According to her website, she loves to “write music and sing it for folks.” This is the case despite the size of the crowd, which was clearly evident considering the small crowd of listeners she serenaded in the 92Y Tribeca. According to their website, 92YTribeca Nightlife […] offers outstanding live experiences for audiences, performers and participants alike.”

At 8:30 p.m. on Thursday, April 14, my classmates Jerrica, Sabrina, Ashley, Gladys consisted of about half the audience until there was an uptick of attendance as curious onlookers trickled in.

Enjoying the dim atmosphere of a rather boring venue, I let the extremely sad songs, most of which were about Campbell’s life, sink in. It was enough to bring any love sick fool, like myself, to tears. The glass of red wine did not help much either, especially as the music to one of her songs truly sounded like rain drops landing on a lake.

Still, a fan of guitar and folk music myself, much of Cambell’s music lacked the emotion I expected from this genre. Singing almost at a whisper, her vocals didn’t have the excitement I desired and expected when I walked in to find a woman with a guitar.

Occasional faster strums occasionally did break the monotony of the relatively slow strums that would put anyone to sleep with its soothing rhythms that came from Campbell’s red wood acoustic guitar.

Cambell’s breathless voice then added to it lightly. Her voice was as subtle as her body movements; she tapped her foot slightly and moved from side to side, bopped slightly to her beat, and appeared like the picturesque starving artist playing the blues.

Track after track was played from her latest album Sugar Spoon, which came out in 2009. According to her website, the album was produced by William Berlind in Manhattan and a church in Nantucket.

Good music nonetheless, I left the venue with a relatively melancholy mood to start off my spring break. However if your life is virtually void of hardships, listening to her songs is sure to be an effective remedy to decompress after a stressful day.

Posted in music reviews | 6 Comments

The Only Good Thing About Amber Is Just The Name

For many years, I had always told my friends how much I hated to experiment with new

Chicken -Pineapple: Amber style

foods. When I would get hungry, I liked to eat foods I knew and I enjoyed. It really bothered me when I would buy food I had never eaten before and I ended up hating it. As i grew older, such ideas started to disappear and I decided to give different foods a chance. To my surprise, I started discovering new delicious and very tsaty foods. Now, it’s one of my various hobbies.

It goes without saying, there are times where i really don’t like the food or the service for that matter. Amber Sushi Bar, located on 27th street and 3rd. Avenue, would be a great example of what terrible service looks like.

When I first entered, the first thing I noticed was the bar on the first floor. It took almost half the space of the first floor. Nevertheless, it looked tempting and inviting. The decorations give the restaurant a cultural and traditional, yet modern look and feel. Upstairs, things take a complete turn down.

The space is more limitted in the second floor, forcing the management of the restaurant to decide on a horrific seating arragement. The tables are arranged by rows, one after the other, with only few inches of space beatween each table. When I was directed to my table, where my friends had been waiting for me, as I was sitting down, my backside ended up in the face of an unfortunate customer sitting in the table next to ours. It was, I have to admit, an embarrasing moment.

I waited 15 minutes before I finally got a menu from the waitress and another 15 minutes for her to come back to take my order. We were given a choice between soup and salad. I opted for the salad. I got my main dish before the salad, and I had to let the waitress know she had forgotten to bring, not only my salad but my friends’ as well.

As far as the food goes, what can I tell you? It was average. It was not extremely good, and it did not make me feel like it was the best food I had ever eaten. But it was not too horrific either. I had a Pineapple Chicken dish that tasted very similar to the ones I have tried at some other restaurants. It was missing something. I wanted the dish to have something different to make such a typical  dish a unique one, but unfortunately, it wasn’t there. I can only say this: I would not go back to Amber as long as it is my choice.

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Brilliance Walks Through The Halls of Baruch College

Le Blanc in a Conference

Walking now through the Halls of Baruch College and teaching at some of the school’s classrooms is the great writer Adrian Nicole Le Blanc. The author of the book “Random Family” which chronicles the lives of a family she followed for 10 years, has been this semester’s writer in residence, expanding and sharing her knowledge with some lucky students.

I had the privilege of attending her conference, despite the tiresome day I had. I was dreading the whole idea of attending a conference that would discuss a book I had not read, especially after such a hectic day. However, I put my responsibilities ahead of me and attended the conference and I have to admit I am glad I did. I left the conference feeling highly encouraged and grateful for the best advice she gave, “always have a plan A and behind that, have a plan B.”

Le Blanc started her writing career as an intern at Smith College and freelancing at the New York Times. I look forward to reading her book during my free time. Sometimes, putting our responsibilities first, even after stressful days, actually pays off.

Posted in LeBlanc Talk | 5 Comments