Metro Pulse/Music/Eye on the Scene

Land of a Thousand Shoe Gazers

I do not dance, and have only done so while drinking. But the haze of four beers induced me to dance at VHS or Beta's disco show at the Pilot Light Friday. While folks occasionally cut a rug at the Pilot Light—hip-hop shows, old timey music—the crowd here is generally too s elf-conscious or indifferent to shake it.

I've seen people do dumb things while drunk, but drinking gives us license to do what we really want but are afraid to do. The danger of drinking, as everyone knows, is liver disease. But it is also not knowing the next day exactly what transpired. This is what I remember of the show.

A few minutes after the band started, I chastised my friend, "You should be dancing." He nervously laughed, "No way, man!" I aggressively or innocently pushed or didn't push him into one of the comfortable or ratty couches and forced my way into the growing rows of dancing fools, wildly flailing my arms about in typical "dance-like" fashion. Several friends were now dancing and we moved in a sexual or nonsexual manner. [The rush of adrenaline] that made it through my pinched up veins exploded into a seizure of miscalculated or perfectly timed moves that attracted or repelled others who were also drunk enough to dance.

The toes behind me that I purposely or accidentally squashed should have been a clue to turn around. When I finally spun around half-way I saw to my horror that everyone behind the gaggle of us dancers was standing still, ignoring or staring at us.

A small blonde woman felt the top of my hair for some unknown reason while she hooted and hollered like a drunken fool, jumping and spilling her beer on the cleared-out floor. I saw myself in this crazy woman. As I stood there, the embarrassment of my behavior punched my jostled, beer filled stomach and the urge to throw up became intense. I looked at the ground and saw small rivers of sweat or beer crossing like a mucous membrane on the concrete floor. I wondered who would be cleaning that up and whether they'd be thinking of the dancers.

"Who cares?" I thought or said aloud, noticing my more stoic friends had left mid-show. "I had a lot of fun."

Pleasantly Ironic—That's Us

I don't typically pick my friends out of the modern rock circuit, so you can imagine my surprise finding myself on a mid-day tour of Knoxville with David Hakopyan, bassist for Apex Theory. I stumbled across David lost in the Old City one afternoon, and commenced to give instructions about what he shouldn't miss during his three days in Knoxville. He expressed an interest in seeing Old Gray Cemetery and somehow or another, I found myself giving the tour.

I knew my new friend wasn't exactly a typical sample of major-label rock 'n' roll lifestyle, when, before leaving the cemetery, we washed our hands and faces—an Armenian cleansing ritual. We then clambered about the railroad tracks and quarries of Vestal, David receiving his first lesson in quarry formation. After our brief rural tromp, we headed back toward the city for trips to The Disc Exchange and Lost and Found Records, before finishing off the evening at Falafel Hut. David, who has a family history of Middle Eastern cooking, gave the Hut's falafel his absolute approval.

The afternoon proved to break down quite a few of my hard-rock stereotypes. It was interesting to hear about Dreamworks' dealings, his earlier interest in graphic design, and his awareness of clichés in the modern rock scene. Both so surprised by our randomly formed friendship, we agreed to meet again with other members of his crew. The next day, accompanied by their drummer Sammy and their sound engineer Jerry, we ended up at King Tut's.

As the conversation turned to drinking, drugs, and other rock 'n' roll vices, the gang declared their mutual disapproval of even such minor dependencies as cigarettes. My eyebrows raised, "How exactly was their tour spent?" I found out Friday night, as I watched their Blue Cats show. The show was all around enjoyable, at its best when ethnic influence showed through. The moral of the story is you never know who you'll run into or where you'll end up when you start wandering about the cobbled streets of Knoxville. David's take on the Scruffy City: "It was one of the most pleasantly ironic places I've been to. I saw some of what I expected, but was also surprised by a lot of things. Ultimately, I had a really great time. I would love to come back again."

Go.

Thursday: Not only are they playing for free in Market Square, the Lonesome Coyotes are Knoxville legends.

Friday: How often do you get to see great hip hop in Knoxville? Check out Scienz of Life at Blue Cats.

Saturday: See Knoxville's post-rock gods Ibrahim at the Pilot Light.

Sunday: Go hiking in the Smokies. Then catch Robinella & the C.C. String Band at Barley's before they're too big for Knoxville.

Monday: Sleep.

Tuesday: Bang the drum loudly—catch the Affable Collective drum circle at Blue Cats.

Wednesday: Drink, smoke, and flirt in preparation for Superdrag's return on Thursday night at Sundown in the City.

Emma "Why has my calendar editor forsaken me?" Poptart with Travis Gray and Liz Tapp