Photo by Martin Cartagena (of Wild Yaks).

Every year some band out of Brooklyn just blows goddam minds to pieces. The show over the weekend at the rickety Boerum house had serious contenders. Most missed the girl from Beat the Devil due to tardiness. What I caught was boozey, soulful and just what I needed to make myself comfortable.

The living room was fully mic’d by the hosts, who apparently moonlight as angels, and play in the band, Forest Fire. Fortune Teller is one of those songs that make me wanna cash out my savings, shoot the best western anyone’s ever dreamed of and ramble around like Doc Holliday for the rest of my short, chancy life.

Somewhere in the good times the lights all went out and some new devilry befell neck hair, spine, mind and wine bottle. I began slowly pouring the red fluid in my eyes to spare myself the sight of the skinny panda-masked murderess that frolicked around a candle on the floor. Lords of light protect us, her movements are spells, her words sweet tidings from hell. I felt better after chanting that, then got as close as I could. She Made My Heart Wet.

Last came the Wild Yaks to crown us all bonafide. I’ve seen them before and noted “their prowess.” But that is a loser understatement of this band. Musta been my nerves acting up that first time, or maybe they crossed that ineffable line between real fun and fuck me! with a bit of practice or the Dalai Lama blessed them in a dream.

Whatever it is… you know when you were a kid on the women’s floor at Sears with your Mom? You marveled at leather and gold, walls of color and clothes, stockings and frilly things. She went to the dressing rooms and you followed. Kenny Rogers crooned overhead. You found a hot lonely mannequin and started fondling it behind last year’s drapery. It drove you crazy and next thing you were running and crawling and screaming through the place, hangars and bras falling in your wake. You dove into a corridor of dresses with a pair of high-heeled six shooters. You loved the way the fabric felt on your face all flushed, tearing through the places adults never go. You found ecstasy in secrets there on the musty floor where they couldn’t find you.

Just like a goddam Wild Yaks show.

Pics from a different show just before the cops came, by Daniel.