The Men of Sven Music Review, Jeals, Dog Reaction Shot, Candy Boys, Noel Black & The Chromatics, A Brief View of The Hudson
MC'd by Sven of 'Sanford and Sven', DJ Kyle Rose
186 Bedford Ave
Brooklyn, NY, 11211
Doors 7:30 PM / Show 8:00 PM
This event is 21 and over
The Men of Sven Music Review
A night of music presented and MC'd by Sven of 'Sanford and Sven'
Dog Reaction Shot
Pulp noir anti-heroes DOG REACTION SHOT present vivid, Technicolor midnight B movie infused party music with rapid-fire rhyme deliveries over classic hip-hop beats beamed beyond the modern era with sci-fi, 70's porn and spy thriller psychedelia. If Barbarella and Dolemite had a baby raised by Bela
Legosi, it would grow up to be the typical Dog Reaction Shot fan.
Dog Reaction Shot's debut album Cinémathèque Diabolique: L'Album is an alien hatchling from the lore of H.G. Welles' War of the Worlds. It's an album of deep 808 kicks, snares that slap Rockette ass and grindhouse soul samples cut to shreds and rising from a Cold War era bomb shelter. It's a key party
from a bygone age hosted by feral, swinging American werewolves in London. Track by track, it reads like a graphic novel written by Kurt Vonnegut and illustrated by Robert Crumb on molly (Ringwald).
Decked out in black and pink and ready for microphone domination, Professor Nastyphantastic and Reddirt the Illusionist hail from Brooklyn, NY and international waters, respectively. Nastyphantastic is an MC wizard with deep roots in the Delta blues and the lineage of Harry Smith and Aleister Crowley. Reddirt is an MC warlock and producer with roots in both the Oklahoma dustbowl and the French Resistance. He occasionally enjoys a sauvignon blanc paired with Gitanes, lightly dipped in the finest dust.
Their debut album will be available 11/11/14 @ DogReactionShot.bandcamp.com
Noel Black & The Chromatics
Armed only with limitless potential and a fearless minds Noel Black & The Chromatics has relentlessly pursued a life in music.
A Brief View of The Hudson
Ann Enzminger spent her early years in Texas singing on Austin street corners and with many ill-fated traveling bands and revues. She finally settled in New York City in the early part of this century and through a series of seemingly unrelated events and a small stint in Drama school she met Nick Nace. Nick had come in to town, not long after Ann, on a slow train from Canada's northlands. It was a crisp October afternoon when he first laid eyes upon his new home, the sun was shining, the sky was happy and the golden leaves and yellow taxicab's spun together in autumnal glory.
After some shaky first steps, a brief incarceration and an illness I wont bother to talk about Nick found a bed bug ridden room at The Hotel Belleclaire, a sleazy S.R.O. on Manhattans Upper West Side. It was a dismal place. Yet such beautiful flowers can rise from the darkest of corners. Besides two random meetings in the Hotels small elevator Nick & Ann spent years mostly unaware of the others existence.
Then one day after the greatest calamity this fair city had ever seen, Nick was walking down the Bowery in a fog of despondency, wondering what to do with his life, when he heard a voice singing as if from the heavens. There was the petite frame of Ann Enzminger belting out a melancholy tune so powerful and violent yet so delicate and feminine Nick was dumbfounded. He watched for several minutes in a trance like state. Then it hit him. He knew what he had to do. He tore home, got his hands on an old blue guitar and resolved to start a musical collaboration with Ann by years end.
Over the next six months he practiced day and night. One day as he was sitting in the hallway plucking a Hank Williams tune he looked up to see Ann staring down at him. "I've been listening to you practice for months now, you're finally getting somewhere, you're almost good even" she said. "I am playing down at The Dililla in two days maybe we can work out a few numbers." Perhaps it was fate, perhaps not, but from that day forward whenever I take the train home and it goes above ground between 125 St. and 137 St. I look to the west and between the buildings and behind the highway, right before we disappear underground once more, I see A Brief View of the Hudson.
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