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11.24.02 Got the life by Matt Worley Andrew W.K.'s music is like 12 slices of American cheese. Processed, somewhat artificial, but strangely and compellingly good. It's been used in a few commercials, movies and TV shows. Radio air play, however, has been harder to come by. And so, even though most of you have probably heard his tunes, when he came through Albuquerque last week, he played at the Launchpad (a small club) to a not-so-packed house. He is a cheerleader of sorts. Soaking wet, playing the occasional keyboard intro or fill, but mostly screaming with a hoarse voice as he jumps around. David Lee Roth would be proud. The songs are simple. They employ the age-old pop rule of "I'm saying the chorus four times because it is very, very important." Catchy, quick and easy to sing along. His ode to New York ("I Love New York City") was changed to "I Love Albuquerque" with the greatest of ease, causing a mini-riot of the forty or so of us crowding the front of the stage. I pushed a guy off me because he seemed to think I was a door he could get through to the front. My physical answer was "no," and he flew back across the pit, arms akimbo, with much more force than I realized. I have become one of those guys who is big enough to guard the wall of the pit. I don't know when this happened, but it has occurred. A few days later I was standing in the balcony of the Launchpad watching a couple on the floor as a trio of guys punked out on-stage. The whole band sported matching stylized mohawks. Hair in a patch on the front of their heads in a psycho pompadour, the rest shaved. The girl was holding her guy from behind. Then she used him as a pole to grind on. Apparently this was not what he had in mind, because he turned, backed away, and pushed into the small mosh pit of guys--leaving her on the sidelines. While she watched, she tied a bit of her hair up and then pulled down the half shirt she was wearing. Her tits, however, were still barely hidden. She crossed her arms and waited for her guy to stop pushing other guys around. The girl with the blue hair had given me the eye, although I'm not sure if it was because she was interested or because we were sitting in her seat on the bench. There was a pool game in progress, a game that was taking quite a while as most of the participants were rather drunk. My roommate and I watched as player after player missed seemingly easy shots. Piercings and other alternative trappings abounded with this group, which was also filled out with a drunk, but sociable, father in a cowboy hat. The guy with a dual dangling stud in his nostrils explained that the father was from a small town near Carlsbad and had thought going to a punk show would be like stepping into a continuous bar fight. He had been happily proven wrong and proceeded to get drunk with his son (who could barely hold the pool cue steady). The blonde girl had one of those cute studs under her bottom lip, something in her nose and a few rings in her ears. Her name was Elizabeth. Me, the blue haired girl (punkette?) and Elizabeth were watching the same couple I'd spotted earlier from the balcony. They were a few thin articles of clothing away from screwing on one of the pool tables. The girls thought someone should be taking pictures. I was wondering why the guy was trying so hard to get away.
The punk kids had flown up to San Francisco in the summer to see the Warped Tour and talked to the Eyeliners (who were headlining the show we were at) when they were there. My roommate asked the guy which Eyeliner was the best (they are three sisters, and the correct answer is: Gel). He said he'd have to see them all naked to make a properly informed decision. It was about this time when the Eyeliners began to play. We downed our beers quickly and headed to the floor (it was an all-ages show, so no beer was allowed near the stage). The girls did a quick set, but they played "Punk Rock Planet" ("Now you're one of us!"), and I seemed to know the words to all of the songs. I was on the left side of the pit, guarding a few younger and smaller kids from the blows of other moshing patrons. The Eyeliners rocked, as they've done for years, and I was full of the rock and roll glow. I don't know why this is the answer. The place where I find a bit of meaning and excitement in life. I'm not here all the time, and it's not always the first place I look. And sometimes, it doesn't work. But this week, this time, it was all I needed. Walk away a bit sweaty, a bit tired, but full of the life. Which reminds me of something I wrote a long, long time ago: Music is life. More than anything else I get into, music is life.
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