Man, New York is a lonely place when your phone is dead. While tens of thousands of pretty people stroll by, all obviously on their way to a fancy nightclub or night-bar, you’re meandering like a lone loony - who can’t even borrow a stranger’s cellphone to call a friend’s number, because you can’t remember any of your friend’s numbers.
So, you buy an Olde E, stuff it in your already-overpacked bag and head toward home, ready for another bedroom screening of Punch Drunk Love - the third such screening being held this week.
But, by the time you’re just a few blocks from the L at Union Square, you hear a buzzing - people chattering, and music blaring from the underground. It’s Webster Hall, and you haven’t been there since that time you came up in the 9th grade and saw 1/4 of Wu Tang go wild in The Studio. The vibes are warm and inviting, so you stroll down the block to the corner of 11th and 3rd to see who’s down there tonight.
Tim William!
The obscure keyboardist/singer who tours with some of your embarrassing favorites (Kidz in the Hall, Gym Class Heroes). And it’s only $7 to get in. Outside, you wonder how weird it is to go to a concert alone, with a 40 in your backpack - so you try to switch on your phone for a second to shoot off a text. But, no dice.
Fuck it, you think. Let’s go see Tim William.
You skip the line of drunk-asses outside Webster’s nightclub and find yourself facing the doorman. After a quick fake ID-check, you’re in, and it’s bumpin’. You pay the doorwoman her fee, and as soon as you round the corner you’re in it.
A hundred people jumping, yelling and smiling along to the five-piece onstage. That doesn’t look like Tim William. But, fuck it, he’s probably on next, you think, so you go to the bar for a PBR and stand off to the side of the stage where the apparent openers are jamming.
People are digging this, and as their first tune comes to an instrumental end and your PBR is empty, you are too. It starts with a head-bob, then suddenly a foot-tap, and before you know it, halfway into their next song you’re moshing with the rest of the crazies, as they sing -
Do you think I’m wrong
You put my back against the wall
You make it so damn hard
La da da da…
Shit! - you’re thinking, these guys are good. A fun new mix of funk and pop, that turns out to be just what you needed after the lonely stroll. They’re like Parliament Funkadelic minus George Clinton, and not really in a bad way.
The song, “Stick Up Kids” keeps building up until the last thirty seconds, until the Studio’s floor is literally bouncing, and you turn to the drunk scene girl next to you and ask -
“Who is this?”
“Bad Rabbits! Aren’t they awesome?”
Yes, they are. Almost sober now, you smile through the lead singer’s crowd address, as he disappointingly announces that their next song - “Can’t Back Down” - will be their last of the night, before they get right into it. And, it’s more of the same awesomeness. By the climax, the quintet has their audience in their sweaty palms, singing along to their anthem.
No you can’t back down
Uh Uh
Can’t back down
Uh uh…
The lights come down, the guys take a bow, and it’s over. After some scrambles, the lights come back up on The Studio, and the satisfied crowd stands dumbfounded, not sure what to do next.
Someone quickly figures out that it’s go-time, and as the crowd piles out, you also escape back to the the city streets, and head toward Union Square, and eventually get home. As you plop back on your red-sheet-covered bed, you turn your phone on and immediately call Mike - who you were supposed to meet up with hours ago.
“Yo! What happened?” he asks.
“Sorry man, my phone died.”
“Shit. I thought you died.”
“No,” I explain, “just my phone. What’d you end up doing?”
“Just smoked with Frank…what about you?”
“Went to a concert, actually.”
“Really?” “Yeah man - this band called Bad Rabbits.”
“Alone?”
“Yep. Solo.”
“How was it?”
“Fucking awesome.”
And, it was. Even when there’s nothing to do and no special place to go, you can find yourself, finding out about a brand new band and losing yourself in their tunes for a little while before you have to go outside and keep living.
