Music Review: Unimpressed at New York City’s Knitting Factory

Authored by Chris Fulenwider on March 2, 2007 - 6:01pm.

The Knitting Factory is one of the best music venues in the city. I walked into the main venue on February 27th after grabbing a drink at the front bar, paying no attention to the music. I posted up with two friends and we took frothy sips of our cold beers before taking note of the catastrophe happening on stage. The shock to the system was so profound that I didn’t even know what instruments were being played. I can tell you that the band, which calls itself Lucibel Crater, was comprised of three members. The lead singer, to my astonishment, was looping poetry on top of poetry on top of poetry. It reminded me of a story about a friend in San Diego, Frank, who lived in an apartment complex across from another friend, Big Red, and the legendary haze that took place one hot afternoon.

It was the height of summer, and their apartments baked during the day. Frank had a friend in town from LA named Tyrone, and Big Red was at work. Tyrone had driven straight through despite an urgent need to use the bathroom. Ironically, Frank needed to “stop by the office” as well. Whiffing the scent of destiny, they formed a plan to make Big Red’s return one he would never forget. Tyrone hobbled to Big Red’s and visited the facilities, while Frank waited outside. Tyrone finished without a flush and Frank followed. However, the area was already in such bad shape that he could only proceed with the plan while having a fan blowing fresh air on him at full blast and a shirt over his face, kidnapper style. Again no flush, and Frank ran out of the apartment as fast as Calvin Johnson.

Tyrone, on the other hand, was not finished. He went in again, but only after opening a door and a few windows. The situation was bad, like when a band loops poetry on top of poetry on top of poetry.

The task was completed – without a flush – and the apartment was resealed for 1 ½ hours before Big Red returned. Can you imagine what was going through Big Red’s head when he opened the door? I can after seeing Lucibel Crater the other night.

The next band was Subtle, of Oakland, whose core audience are 20-year-old wanna-be hipsters on ecstasy, looking for the next up and coming sound. The desire one feels to be part of something and/or accepted will allow one to endure some tough situations, one of those being a Subtle show. The band was comprised of a guy playing a drum machine, a real drummer, an electronic cellist, and the leader who played the keyboards and rapped. I will admit I was intrigued by their lineup and was hoping for a unique sound. Here is what followed:

First song: Definitely unique.

Second song (which sounded exactly like the first): Hope fading.

Third Song (see second song): Uh…

Trying to keep an objective, open mind became a task, and looking back on it, I’m sure there are people who want to see how much cocaine can be snorted by a front-man with a mohawk while he raps at 100 miles an hour about Cannibals and Lazy-Suzans. I am just not one of them.

Chris Fulenwider