“Black Postcards” Provides Surprisingly Sunny Outlook

New York is a pretty amazing city for a number of reasons, and I am especially fond of the many, many opportunities for free wine that the city presents. Maybe it’s the stellar public transport system, maybe it’s the “work hard/play hard” mentality, maybe it’s that everyone who moves here is a closet alcoholic, but whatever the reason, the booze really does flow like wine in the city that never sleeps (double cliché – sweet!).

 

It was the wine, in fact, that got me out to see Dean Wareham read from his memoir Black Postcards on a random Friday a few weeks ago at Bookcourt in Cobble Hill. Well, the wine and my fast developing obsession with memoirs, particularly musicians’ memoirs.

 

Wareham is the former front man for Galaxie 500 and Luna, semi-seminal soft-rock groups from the 80s and 90s. Though I’d not heard of either, I was still fascinated by the book, which provides colorful and frank commentary on the indie world. Far from the world of Cristal ridden concert riders, Black Postcards offers wonderful insight behind the scenes at the small venues and clubs where I, and I suspect many of you, have spent countless hours watching favorite bands.

 

Wareham’s voice drips with dry wit and a semi-humble understanding of his place in history, articulated by the significant moments he weaves in and out of the plot, such as the fall of the Berlin Wall, 9/11, and the 2004 presidential election. Never before have history geeks and indie music fans been so delighted by the same book.

 

But I didn’t know any of this at the small reading space in Cobble Hill. Having not yet read the book, I was somewhat out of place among the enthusiastic fans, but I was a quick convert. As he read from the final pages of Black Postcards, which documented the end of Luna and their final show at the Bowery Ballroom, I was intrigued by his acceptance at this chapters’ closing, particularly when he read that he and his girlfriend Britta took a cab out of the Bowery, relieved to be done and happy to be heading north. Afterwards, I asked him about this relief, he said that it was simply knowing that they didn’t have to play another show the next day (the final show was the 4^th in 3 days). His feelings on ending the band were “mixed.” I picked up the book that night and finished it in two days, eager to understand the lead up to his internal turmoil. I was not disappointed.

 

As I prepare to leave New York on June 1, I have battled with the same “mixed” feelings. Happy to be done with the crowded sidewalks and slow-poke tourists, I will nonetheless miss the energy of the city, the gentle, constant buzz that keeps everything going. And the wine, naturally. Thrilled though I am to be done with my stint as a “banker,” starting a new life as a PhD student is mildly terrifying. And while I find the idea of North Carolina interesting, the lack of public transport and warnings of faux southern hospitality are disconcerting, to say the least.

 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so accepting of the supposedly wizened words of a former indie rock god, and probably shouldn’t tell so many people about it, but for whatever reason, I was comforted by the uncertainty with which this stranger confronted a major life change. The excellent read that I got out of Black Postcards was a bonus.

 

By Jesy B, who just can’t bring herself to pack quite yet…

Similar Posts:

• The Legacy of Jerry Finn
• Review – Everybody hurts
• BAND OF THE WEEK!
• The All-American Rejects sleep late.
• How To Get Your Band Taken Like, Really, Super Duper Seriously