Following the show, I wiped the sleep (and tears) from my eyes and mustered up the energy to jet to Bushwick where King Khan and the Shrines were performing at Don Pedro's. I had been dying to see King Khan-- more so with "the BBQ"-- but King Khan with anyone is guaranteed a good show, so I booked it to get there.
Having no qualms about gimmicks, King Khan hits the stage dressed as something of a Rick James/Bootsy Collins love-child, wearing an egyptian headdress, gold cape, and nothing but some sort of necklace made of teeth, and a pair of black scivvies underneath. Khan's backing band consists of drums, brass, keys, guitars, and a pom pom girl, who spews 60's soul-infused psychedelia into a crowd of extremely drunk early 20-somethings. It's 2am in Don Pedros, and it seems that these kids have been hitting the tequila pretty hard. Khan fights to blurt out some James Brown-esque melodies over the brass band's squeaks and squawks in the tiny back room, while the kids thrash their heads and pogo about like it's a punk show. I sense some unrest in a slurring gentleman in red beside me who keeps trying to get on stage, ultimately halting the performance. He gets pulled down and a little violent. I tell him to relax. He tells me I'm cute, then squeezes me hard before telling me not to touch him. The next thing I know he's back on stage singing along with Khan's fat belly as it protrudes in the crowd, hands covering him. It seems that not only are you guaranteed a good show with King Khan, but you may just as well be guaranteed to be part of the show as well.
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1 comment:
this is exactly why i want to come back to ny. tomorrow. nothing like this goes on in asia.
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