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How Dry I Am
3-12-00
(printed in C-Ville Weekly Vol.12, No.12)

One Hundred Dollars - Manishevitz
Parker Paul

"Drinking makes such fools of people, and people are such fools to begin with that it's compounding a felony."
-Robert Benchley
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I finally did the math. I've been spending more on booze "researching" this column than I'm paid to write it. So I quit drinking. Fuck 'em. I hate to be obtuse, but I've gotta get something more than a hangover and an angry letter from your mommy for this garbage.

at least $150 worth
Friday, March 10, 2000 -- I made the mistake of believing what I'd read in the paper and showed up at Tokyo Rose an hour and a half before the music started, during which time I got to explore the many bardos of boredom as I sat waiting for the show to begin. This must be my punishment for drying up. Pre-party purgatory. I only stuck it out because I wanted to catch two of locally gestated
Jagjaguwar Records' main acts, Parker Paul and Manishevitz, and because I knew that there was a recovering local rock critic in the first band, One Hundred Dollars. All of these acts involve members of the now dissolved Curious Digit, and although I liked the Digit, I am inherently sinister (right?), so I figured this would give me an opportunity to mock them all publicly. I cackled madly and wrung my hands together malevolently. Hunkering in the corner, I prepared my misconceptions. There were two right off the bat: A) that the show would be full of alt/rock DJs with attitudes, and B) that it would suck like raw eggs on Easter Sunday. I was mistaken on both counts: only a respectable gathering of cool people showed, and the music was brilliant.

One Hundred Dollars consists of a major chunk of the staff of the U. Va. Corner Plan 9 Records, and as I said, a local writer who contributed to the (now-defunct?!) Grip monthly. He wore a dress. A black one. With stockings. Smashing. A large stuffed bear had been propped up against his Farfisa organ, clutching a crude 70's-style portrait of a boy scout. Things were getting off to an amazingly slow start, but when the 5- man combo eased into a determined extended rhythm adorned with lovely retro synth gurgles spilling over into a glorious garage rock odyssey complete with guitar tweak-outs and intimate hesitant vocal passages, well..., let's just say my tune changed considerably. A finer representation of velvety-concrete-subdued-concentration rock I've rarely encountered. Bands like this are what Tokyo Rose is really all about, and I felt happily relieved to have been won over by them.

ritual wine, anyone?
Manishevitz... er, that is, Adam Busch, followed with an acoustic set of confessional-sounding fragmented poetry set to back pocket fingerpicking. Until recently, Busch and $100's Joshua Krahn were the centerpiece of that other lovingly lo-fi Jagjaguwar accomplishment, Curious Digit. Despite changes, they continue to carry the torch for the very intimate and intelligent form of folk art exemplified by this sort of 4-track-transmitted-to-vinyl alternative underground rock music. This stuff can be distinguished from plain old "alternative" rock (ala Claire Quilty or Earth to Andy) in several ways: A) it's generally more thought provoking with less party cheese cliche garbage and more of an intentional closet rock tonality (low budgets are "in") B) it's often released on vinyl LPs and EPs, and C) not only is it not likely to be found on "modern rock radio" but its purveyors would probably be embarrassed by the mere prospect. It strikes me as playground music for grown-ups masquerading as intelligent tunesmithy by people with unusual taste. A great variety of musical styles can be found in this genre. Manishevitz involves a sort of whispery dreamland lullaby sung during a scenario where the outcast boy-next-door saves the day by foretelling his neighbors' futures. Adam Busch live was disarming and personal and the audience of fans and friends were thoroughly enjoying themselves, but eventually the time came for a promenade with Parker Paul.

paul does it all
Pianist Paul Wilkinson, also a Curious Digit contributor, can be found most Tuesdays upstairs at Tokyo Rose, playing original tunes out of a book or taking requests for old classics. He's an accomplished pianist whose hands breeze easily through show tunes and rock masterworks alike. As he began, the other performers gathered around for party time with Uncle Paul, and he did not dissappoint.

There are definite They Might Be Giants tinges to Parker Paul's art-- he swims in the parallel universe of the silly, absurd and brilliant, though he seems to me less absurd and more brilliant. Like a Broadway musical derailed and diverted through the Marx Brothers' backyard, he's chocked full of beautifully ridiculous twists and juxtapositions. And he seems to have a point, something T.M.B.G. never had. As he played, the now drunken and delighted mob began to dance the silly dance of infants. The huge stuffed bear was induced to waltz and eventually made the foundation for a hilarious dogpile. The gleeful mob proceeded to molest an innocent friend at the bar after being encouraged to parade him around on their shoulders "like the champion that he is." All the while, Parker Paul took requests and threw out one-liners-- feeding the entertainment-starved literati of Charlottesville the morsels of silliness they so readily deserve. I really couldn't believe my eyes. It was turning wackier than a Tokyo Rose punk rock show. And Paul's a piano-bar guy, for Chrissakes! I started to think that if I hung on any longer I'd have to start drinking-- just to feel normal. So I bailed out. Sobriety shmobriety.
--Cripsy Duck

Springer/Stern in 2000. cripsyduck@mindspring.com

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