Be my guide: New York hipsters have soul

Being the first stop on my two-week, reader-guided road trip across the country, New York didn’t seem promising. Sure, it’s the Big Apple, “the city that never sleeps” — but believe me, on a Monday, New Yorkers sleep.

Fortunately, a reverend from Fresno, Calif., would arrive to rescue me. More on that later.

New York and El Paso were the only cities where readers didn’t send me any solid suggestions of places to go.  OK, I get El Paso, but come on, New York?

Failing my go-to social media sources, I turned to another option—ads. The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Annex has plastered Manhattan with posters promoting its new “John Lennon: The New York Years” exhibit, put together by his widow, Yoko Ono.

I’m a huge Lennon fan, so exploring an exhibit about one of pop rock’s forefathers seemed like a great way to kick off the trip. I called ahead to make sure tickets were still available.

When I arrived at the place, I found  security guards outside and people formally dressed, shuffling in and out.

“Where’s the box office?” I asked a clerk in the gift shop.

“Oh, we’re closed,” he said. “There’s a private party tonight — high-security event.”

As I left the building, cue: rain. The security guards opened umbrellas embroidered with the English flag. What the heck is this?

Ignoring that, I staggered down Spring Street in SoHo. I caught up with two guys, one of whom was in his 20s and looked just like Art Garfunkel with his massive, golden Afro.

“What’s there to do tonight?” I asked. “Any concerts?”

“Not really, I mean,” Garfunkel Clone said, trailing off.

“Nothing?” I asked cynically. “In all of SoHo?”

“Well, it is a Monday,” he retorted. “OK, you like rock? We’re going to this CD release party at Bowery Electric tonight.”

I didn’t feel like waiting around in New York’s ultra-chic shopping district for three hours to go to a release party for some CD by some band I’d never heard of.

So, I met up with a friend at a corner bar. Mary Lamkin was spending the day with her brother, who lives in Brooklyn. When I arrived, J.T. Lamkin was correctly guessing their bartender’s background. The 23-year-old, slender Puerto Rican girl rewarded them with shots of vodka.

After that, we stopped for a beer at McSorley’s Old Ale House, which is one of the oldest bars in the city and claims to have served drinks to former Beatle Lennon and Abraham Lincoln.

The walls are adorned with antiques (in a classy way) and pictures of former presidents. The floor is covered with sawdust— “in case someone pukes,” J.T. explained.

Following the old-timey experience at McSorley’s, we made our way to Brooklyn.  J.T. lives in a neighborhood that meshes a fragile, hipster culture with the lower middle class. J.T. is neither.

The red-haired New Jersey native had confirmed that there was little going on last night. Aside from a Beyonce concert, the only live show he’d heard of was a gospel band called Rev. Vince Anderson and the Love Choir.

Anderson apparently has a residency every Monday night at a bar called Union Pool. It has neither a swimming pool nor billiard tables. But it does have a taco truck parked inside.

The crowd for Anderson’s show was not what I had expected. White hipsters with thick glasses sipping cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon sat outside, smoking cigarettes and waiting for the reverend.

Sure enough, Anderson took the stage, standing at his keyboard and accompanied by a drummer, guitarist and brass players. He wore a suit and flat-top hat, and spoke with a soul-preacher baritone.

His songs about accepting Jesus and running from Satan commanded the crowd. The skinny, bearded fans ate it up, clapping and dancing along.

“You are the faithful remnant,” Anderson told the crowd. “And the remnant is pretty healthy, indeed.”

The Fresno, Calif., native, who has MySpace and Twitter accounts, took a break between songs to talk about his 20th high school reunion that he had just attended. He then announced a new song he would play.

“It’s sort of a sexy song,” he said. “You might say, ‘What are you doing, Reverend, doing a sexy song?’ Well, this is from the book of Solomon.”

A couple of songs later, he took an intermission, during which he passed around his hat for $10 donations. Mary, J.T. and I took it as a chance to exit.

On the way back to J.T.’s apartment, we stopped at Barcade, a half-bar, half-video game arcade. There’s a similar place in Los Angeles, called Miss T’s Barcade.

After losing $2 in quarters to the Punch Out and Frogger machines, we stumbled out, and I crashed on J.T.’s couch for the night. Hey, we made something out of nothing. Thanks, Reverend.

Next stop is Washington, D.C. If you’re in the nation’s capital, I’m planning to stop at the Black Cat to see three local rock bands, as suggested by Dave, who plays for one of the acts.

To provide travel tips, send e-mails to mark.milian@latimes.com, leave comments on this blog or, for those on Twitter, send tweets to @mmilian. To follow my road-trip status live, visit twitter.com/mmilian.

—Mark Milian, Los Angeles Times staff writer

[Photos, from top: Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Annex, McSorley's Old Ale House and the crowd at Union Pool. Credit: Mark Milian/Los Angeles Times]

Permalink | E-mail | Print | Add to My Trips

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 23, 2009 at 1:51 pm by Mark Milian and is filed under Be My Guide, East Coast, New York, News, Tips & Advice. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.