Enjoy some further tunes from them here:
After your excursion to North Larryville on Friday, you should still have time to catch some of the GarageFest pre-party at the Replay, featuring a nice selection of local and KC garage-rockers who didn't get invited to Saturday's big event (the one local spot is reserved for everybody's favorite Vigilantes). Larryville's own Wayne Payne and the Shit Stains will be one of the featured bands at the pre-party. No, wait, it seems they now have a new name on the show's fliers (though not yet on their Myspace): Wayne Pain and the Cum Draculas. We can dig the new name, but we still can't make it through one of their songs in its entirety. But feel free to give it a try yourself:
We were under the impression that hipsters across the nation drank only PBR and Hamm's (and maybe Schlitz), but that's not what we learned from the following piece by our foreign correspondent Captain Chanute, who brings us this sordid tale from the New York Craft Beer Festival. Enjoy! And look for the Captain here again in the near-future, as he's doing the important duty of covering the Vigilantes' New York CMJ appearances for us. (Note to the captain: sorry for the edits, but lazy hipsters won't read anything longer than a Pitchfork article):
it is with pleasure that I write to you from uber-hip NYC to bring you on-going coverage of hip events outside the friendly confines of Larryville. This special occasion has submerged me, Capt. Chanute, balls deep in the glorification of shit-facery. That is, Friday marked the beginning of the Third Annual New York City Craft Beer Week and it's been a bed-spinning, belching last couple days. Now, although my inebriation typically leads to lechery and libertinism, this auspicious time of year most often leaves me in a puddle of piss on a curb in one of the seedy underbellies of this God-forsaken Babylon. Thankfully, I took notes, so come along and observed what's transpired!...
As mentioned, this fine event began Friday night. My lone colleague and I have been slobbering drunk since then, scratching notes and snapping a few photos of the proceedings (and some titties) for your reading (dis)pleasure. Here are just a few highlights of my last 48 hours...
+Another stop on my journey was Heartland Brewery, a small-time-turned-seven-location brewhouse in Manhattan. Heartland, resembling our own local brewery, provides a selection of staple beers (Ambers, Wheats and Oatmeal Stouts) as well as seasonal selections. I opted to try a seasonal, the French Toast Ale. A Belgian-style Saison that blends “bold European pale malts and spicy Belgian yeast,” this frosty ale was crisp and refreshing on a rather warm NYC Saturday. This led me to question why Free State serves all their beers at the temperature of tepid toilet water. But I digress, the beer got a solid (ie, rock-hard) 4 beer boners out of 5 from me. On a side note, one libation I was unable to get my hands on was the Smiling Pumpkin Ale, advertised at the bar by a carved pumpkin representation of its creator. Very hip advertising, but is it art? The Captain's one local friend: “Who gives a shit, it gets you drunk.”...
Furthermore, NYC Craft Beer Week isn't all about the beer, it's also about the people (and the pussy). In my journeys I saw many interesting people, like this bar wench dressed in 1940s garb:
Also, NYC Craft Beer Week events are likely to be protested, like this impromptu feminist concert in front of one my destinations:
Local NYC feminists responded to my article: “We reject your beer boner rating system and have instilled our own beer rating system ranging from 1 to 5 Portia de Rossis.” Hey, boners and Portia de Rossi go hand in hand. Let's just have a cocktail and call the whole thing off."