Best Night Out in Brooklyn City

All right. Saturday night? Crazy. I had received word of a rock show for the ages, so I headed to Williamsburg with Mike to catch the excitement. Lexia and Lauren met up with us at the Sweetwater Bar & Grill (I can't say I recommend it). Here Lexia shows off her new camera/video phone.



Then we headed over to North Six, which wasn't very crowded at all when we got there at 11.



We totally missed the Alabama Black Snakes. Maybe it was for the best.



This is Mike and me.



I think there was a reason that I was pointing in this photo. But I don't remember.



Do you remember the Arrested Development where they hire a publicist . . .



. . . and she tells Buster to "Stay out of the spotlight"?



The first important band of the evening was Hair Supply, the Tri-State Area's Greatest Heavy Metal Air Supply Tribute Band.



At first I thought I didn't know any Air Supply songs.



But then it turns out I recognized almost everything that they played.



Their level of professionalism was astounding.



I can't possibly think of something to say for each of these photos.



And they had these backup singers/dancers that just kept raising and lowering their arms through the entire set.



And they rocked and rocked and rocked . . .



Until they were all done.



And then it was time for the night's main attraction, Mr. Brownstone, a Guns N Roses tribute band of incredible exactitude.



Also, the band was made up of members of established indie-rock outfits. For example, "Axl" was the drummer from Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.



Unlike with Hair Supply, I was excited for Mr. Brownstone because I thought I knew lots of Guns N Roses songs.



It turns out I only know a handful and for most of the show I was like "What song is this?"



As the set began, a mass of frat boys appeared from nowhere and spread through the floor.



The show featured many very ill-conceived stage dives where the diver jumped directly from the stage to the hard floor with the force of thunder and speed of lightning.



And if you wanted to be pressed between sweaty, shirtless interns, the front of the stage was the place to be.



Not only did the band perform GnR's trademark rock-outs, but they produced very authentic reproductions of the band's ballads, even (or should I say "especiall") November Rain.



The crowd worked itself up into a real suspension-of-disbelief frenzy and as far as everyone knew we were either on the Sunset Strip in the mid-80s or in some enormous stadium in Eastern Europe in the early-90s.



The band itself consumed a fairly rock n roll amount of alcohol during the performance, as you can see from the bottles at the front of the stage.



Our little group slunk off to the side of the stage as the fratboy mass grew and grew.



But Axl left no side of the stage under-performed to.



Eventually the show became too amazing (and by "amazing" I also mean "LONG") to stand. With a sufficient notion of what sort of awesomeness Mr. Brownstone was about, Mike and I called it a night while Lexia and Lauren just couldn't stop rockin'.