Fall

Yet another Transmission event tonight, and you can bet your ass I will be there. Summer is ending really goddamn fast and soon I will feel the claustrophobia of winter set in. Here's the funny thing: I like it cold, it's the snow I hate. For most people it is the exact other way around- the snow makes everything "pretty" and "seasonal". The hell with that. I hate looking at snow and I hate shoveling it, but give me a nice cold crisp day and all is well. Part of this is my arrogance in believing that I look damn good in coats, part is that all the panhandlers disappear to warmer climates, but most of all it is that some music -in fact much of what I like- sounds a whole goddamn lot better when it is less than 50 degrees outside.

Fall is the shit. We have so precious little of it here, and let me clarify the earlier statement: I don't look forward to the -20 chill of late January, but from now until early December (barring that nasty white stuff) is paradise. One of my traditions is to take a solo trip to the north shore of Lake Superior with a few jugs of mead. While there, I sit on the beach or at a suitably rocky outcropping and blast my winter playlist and stare out into the water. I know it sounds a little melodramatic and sappy in a Nick Drake, neo-romantic way, but fuck you, I love it. Before I leave, I always stash a bottle of mead under a rock for my next maudlin/pensive visit. It's a good time, especially in November when Lake Superior is at it's grayest and most violent. It's simultaneously austere and manic, alien and intimate. It reminds me of the poem "New Hampshire Again" by Carl Sandburg:

I remember black winter waters
I remember thin white birches
I remember sleepy twilight hills

While the bulk of this poem is clearly (just read the title, for chrissakes) a meditation on New England, specifically Robert Frost's nostalgic version of it, those opening lines will always place me just off the road north of Castle Danger, MN. And whereas Sandburg is where my mind immediately goes to when I'm there gazing across Superior's waves, my driving companion on the way north is a mix tape that invariably starts off with U2's "A Sort of Homecoming" and ends with the entirety of Springsteen's "Nebraska" album.

But tonight I will not travel to the north shore. Tonight I am going downtown to hit up the single dance/dj night that I give a shit about. Dangling prepositions and all.

On my way there I will most likely pump up the volume on Joy Division's "Disorder", my favorite song from that band, and one of the best lead-off tracks of any record of all-time. When you factor in that the band members were all 23 or under at the time of it's release and that it sounded like nothing before it AND served as the perfect sonic reflection of the geographic region (Manchester) at that time, the result is nothing short of staggering. If you were to look up "auspicious debut" in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Ian Curtis next to it.

Turn off the lights and turn this shit up.

iPhone, live transmission.

In yet another display of my gremlin-like ability to fuck over technology, I arrived at Transmission to DJ Jake Rudh spinning a killer set of songs, ample room to move and dance, and found the coolest possible shot that would sum up the night within thirty seconds of my arrival: A lanky, six-foot plus boy dancing his ass off to New Order's "Temptation", spins and kicks his leg as high as his head, black buckled shoe right in front of his face, back-lit by an amber halo from the outside streetlight pouring in through the front windows of Club Jäger . I whipped out my camera and took the shot only too see the red "Your battery is dead, suckah!" light flash back at me. Fuck.

iPhone to the rescue.


And iPhone, you're a convenient whore. You're picture quality sucks, but in a pinch I'll take what you give me.

Anyway, as I was saying, Transmission was great last night. The music was impeccable, probably the best setlist I'd heard in a long time, or at least since the David Bowie birthday party. And the drinks? They did not disappoint. Being as it is Minnesota, an early September evening can get pretty damn cold, so the whiskey felt good while I made my brief foray out to the smoking patio. My friends and I didn't last too long out there as the cold and great music playing inside conspired to make sure we devoured our cigarettes quickly.

Official aside: Is there anything better than the smell of a freshly lit cigarette on a brisk evening?

My imbibeage for the evening was light; a rail whiskey soda and a few pints of Pilsner Urquell, served by Angie, one of the most attractive bartenders in Minneapolis:


I curse iPhone's camera again. Let's just say that I planted my ass on a barstool and let the Blur and Joy Division and Bowie and Pulp be the soundtrack for my unabashed admiration.

Back to the review: Kids, Transmission is a night you simply must attend. Every now and again Rudh decides to throw in a theme night (butt rawk, 90s top 40, etc.) These are very hit and miss depending on your taste. Love for Journey aside, the standard post-punk, brit-pop stylings of Transmission are not to be missed. Even though I'm a die hard rock fan of the Springsteen-Hold Steady lineage, growing up in a Reagan America I listened to more New Order and Cure than the aforementioned Boss. There is something about the cacophony formed by guitar, synthesizer, and British voice that just gets me. I dunno, maybe there was something strange in New Ulm's public water supply, but I likes it, likes it, yes I do.


Night's Consumption:

Rail Whiskey Soda: 1 low ball
Pilsner Urquell: 2 pints

James Rockford Memorial Drunk Scale: .7 -Just being social.

Clubby's Commandments

Meet Clubby, Showerbeer Blog spokesman and author of the official rules for partaking in shower beer activities. Clubby is an upstanding member of the Alaskan seal community and noted ornithologist, his political commentary has appeared on The Huffington Post. In 2006, Clubby achieved notoriety in some conservative communities for his public flame war with noted blogger Andrew Sullivan.

Clubby's Shower Beer Commandments is the industry standard of rules concerning the practice of shower beer. Take heed.

One partaking in a shower beer shall:

1. Consume only beer contained within an aluminum can. Bottled beer is permissible only in cases where logistical issues prevent use of canned beer. Under no circumstances should an open glass or other such container be used.
2. Avoid contamination of the shower beer by hair, skin and cleaning products.
   
3. Know that Canadian beer of the Labatt brand is the preferred choice. Others brands have been studied and shown to be inferior based on a triple blind study.
   
4. Consume only one beer per showering period. Shower beer predates the Dorian invasion and is steeped in ritual and tradition. It is a purifying act, not a route towards severe intoxication.
   
5. Provide enough shower beers for all participants.
6. If intoxicated due to previous beverages, the rite of shower beer may need to be performed quickly. It is advisable that a proper container for bodily fluids be at hand.
7. Follow the proper recycling procedures for your municipality upon completion of the shower beer.
8. Not engage in sexual intercourse during the rite. This is an abomination.
9. Not shotgun their shower beer. This is also an abomination.
   
10. Maintain proper grooming and hygiene prior to and after shower beer. Excessive grime can and will spoil the experience.
11. Provide one's own caddy or shelf for temporary storage of said shower beer. Also, can cozies and beer hats are acceptable accessories.
12. Assist those with physical or mental handicaps in the operation of their shower beer.
13. Not Bogart another's shower beer.
14. Listen to music during the rite. Suggested artists are: Warren Zevon, Bob Seger and Lily Allen.
15. Always partake in shower beers during the Sabbath.
16. Apply all of the above rules should a shower not be present. Use of bathtubs and carwashes is acceptable.

(NOTE: The 16th commandment was added per the second Peloponnesus Symposium, some local prefectures do not recognize the PS2 edict.)

It is strongly advised that all current and future shower beer participants memorize Clubby's Commandments. If you are confused or have questions regarding protocol, do not hesitate to ask. Clubby is always willing to take questions regarding these rules of order.

Friends of the Showerbeer Blog can look forward to Clubby the Seal's Q&A/advice column forthcoming on this blog.
~~~

Tonight I am headed to Transmission, a very popular local dance night held at the intimate and cozy Club Jäger in the Warehouse District of Minneapolis. This bar has Pilsner Urquell on tap, so any review I post will be skewed by my love of that particular brew and, of course, my BAC. Unlike my last foray out, I will have my trusty Canon along to document the adventure. Expect a full report later tonight/earlier tomorrow, BAC willing.

Also coming soon: The inaugural patty melt review, My gushing screed-cum-adoring fan letter about The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, and Bartender Todd's impromptu Allman Brothers sing along with Gov. Bob R. Riley of Alabama.