You Can Dance, If You Want To.
A visit to The Lord Lindsey by a special correspondent, B., who clubs so you don't have to...
I paid my three bucks and walked into the spacious ground floor. With the dance floor empty, I made my way to the bar and ordered a Cosmopolitan in an unassuming plastic cup (with four bars in the club, I never felt far from the one thing I was qualified to do). I climbed the stairs to an overhang and found a table. Peering over the railing, I watched a man on the dance floor who seemed to have rhythm coursing through his veins. With the celestial grace of a dervish, he held his right arm out like an unvanquished matador while the rest of his body continued to move to a beat that apparently no one else heard. Because his overt pelvic thrusts made me feel a little uneasy, I turned my attention to the rest of the onlookers. Glaring back at me, through the smoke-lit half darkness, were two pointed ears, a pair of piercing black eyes and a black singlet out of which thrust two very long, fishnet stockinged legs. This cat woman had a mate, and they both wore the world's phoniest sardonic grins.
I got up for another Cosmopolitan but was suddenly struck by the familiarity of the threesome at the table next to mine. Their urbane black dresses reminded me of something. And then it hit me. These women looked just like the Robert Palmer "Simply Irresistible" dancers. Their anxious foot-tapping betrayed their obvious yearning for the dance floor. Robert Palmer, himself, seemed to call up to them. Dance ladies, dance. You're free. No more regimented shoulder tossing. No more blinding red lipstick. You're free. I followed the "Simply Irresistible" girls downstairs and stopped at the bar for a refill. While a tuxedoed bartender made me another Cosmopolitan, I watched the girls dance. Perhaps dance isn't the right word. It looked more like a group seizure. Dejected, I moved to a stone-covered patio.
I had just inhaled my first badly needed breath of fresh air when the cat woman came stumbling out of a doorway. "This is so stupid," she said glancing at the mob on the patio. She ground her cigarette out and barged back inside with her mate in tow. I drained my Cosmopolitan, ready to call it a night, and walked back across the now crowded dance floor to the front entrance. I stole one last glance over the crowd and caught the eye of one of the "Simply Irresistible" girls. Siren-like, she seemed to be enticing me back into the club. But I turned away, reticent as I walked down the steps.
Metro Pulse writer/punk rocker John Sewell wants to share some news. First, Kidsnack will be playing its last show on Friday, Oct. 5 at Three Nineteen. While 'snackers Greg Williams and Greg Swift will continue playing music locally, Sewell will be moving to Chicago to pursue some other projects, namely to join Duvall, a band known as the new Smoking Popes, founded by Josh Caterer and Mike Felumlee. Touring will start in late October. Sewell is also planning to release a solo project next year on Double Zero records, which is, incidentally, also where he'll be working. If he owes you money, better get it now.
In other news, monster music festival known as SXSW is currently accepting applications for their much-coveted showcases. The festival runs March 13-17, 2002 in Austin, Texas, y'all, and information on the process can be had at www.sxsw.com. The application deadline is Nov. 9, but a fee discount is given if you can get your crap in by Oct. 7. So get moving already.
We knew he could act and even play blues guitar, but we were a bit shocked to see Brad Renfro leap on the stage at the Pilot Light for some impromptu MCing during Har Mar Superstar's gig Friday night. Renfro (who gives a great supporting performance in the great Ghost World) and a friend nearly commandeered the stage, but the marginally talented Har Mar (who in another persona is a much more talented indie rocker by the name of Sean Na Na) was a good sport and let the local boys have their fun.
Thursday: Fred Eaglesmith at Blue Cats. After the Burning Spear show, of course.
Friday: Knoxville Symphony Orchestra at Bijou Theatre. It's a Beethoven Bash!
Saturday: Dysrhythmia with Convocation Of and People of the Squares at Pilot Light. Alternative sounds that rock, kind of.
Sunday: Appalachian Ballet at Pellissippi State Performing Arts Center. Three major pieces will kick off their season.
Monday: Wurlitzer Organ Concert at Tennessee Theatre. A rededication of this refurb'ed regional touchstone.
Tuesday: Free museum day at most Knoxville historical homes and museums. See cool stuff. Pay no fee.
Wednesday: Chris Scruggs at Barley's. Yes, the name sounds familiar. This Scruggs, who plays inspired rockabilly, is the grandson of Earl.
Emma "Is a publication about Thora Birch a Thora 'zine?" Poptart
September 27, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 39
© 2001 Metro Pulse