6.28 A wknd w/ Pop Music Fever Dream
Tim Seeberger of the band on Star Delicious, Star Revenge and pmfd's show TONIGHT on the Our Wicked Lady roof
TGIF WITH PMFD
TGIF WITH PMFD TGIF WITH PMFDTGIF WITHPMFD TGIF WITH PMFDTGIF WITHPMFD TGI. F WITH PMFD TGIF WITH PMFD T G I F W I T H P M F D PMFD T G I F W I T H P M F D PMFD T G I F W I T H P M F D PMFD T G I F W I T H P M F D PMFD T G I F W I T H P M F DDDDDDD
Happy Friday, friends! Now grab your ear plugs… maybe a few pairs… and prepare 2 be blasted by the sights and sounds of the insane-in-the-best-way queer post-punk/no-wave project known as Pop Music Fever Dream—
Who will be doing said blowing up of ears/faces/expectations on the OWL roof TONIGHT!
Keep in mind that this isn’t *just* a show. The band (Tim Seeberger, Nicole Harwayne, Domenico Bancroft and Carmen Castillo) will also be capturing their special brand of madness this evening with a live recording of their 2022 EP Songs for Promoters, so please be ready to get your fangirl on and be extra sure to bring your A+ audience game.
In terms of pre-gaming tonight’s event, check out this footage from Punk Island. We’ve also got some bonus sonic action to help you mentally/physically/spiritually prepare in the form of “[???],” a new track from the band that appears on KILLING THE FLOWERS WILL NOT DELAY SPRING, a benefit compilation for the Freedom Theater in Jenin.
(Buy it to support the theatre here.)
“The song is all about virtue signaling and creating more trouble than help in fighting for a noble cause,” Tim shared of the song. “It was inspired by some things I’ve seen in my time doing activism work. The instrumental is actually the first one I completed when I started writing music for pmfd back in 2019! Carmen zhuzhed up the bass line, I wrote the lyrics like a month ago, and we had a song :-)”
Boom!
ALRIGHT! We’re running out of daylight here, so scroll on for your weekend plans from pmfd, then take a disco nap, grab a bite, grab a beer and GET YE TO THE GIG to kick off the last weekend of Pride Month with the biggest (and loudest) of bangs.
It’s gonna be a good one. Here’s hoping all your dreams—particularly of the pop-music-fever variety— come true. <3
[BUT FIRST: PRESS PLAY]
FRIDAY
Working 9 to 5 (what a way to make a living!). Big work from home vibes, meaning work 3 hours and dick around for the other five. This may include a walk in Irving Square Park, a bike ride to Domsey Express for some thrifting, or maybe a drive to Marlow and Sons to actually get work done and eat some tasty food.
Around 4, I’ll log off. Time for a shot of espresso at Caffeine Underground and a sandwich at home (grilled chicken, arugula, tomato, avocado, pepper jack, and pesto mayo.)
Drive over to East Williamsburg because It’s showtime at Our Wicked Lady babayyyy. It’s us, Weeping Icon, Qirl, and 973 Future Yook up on the roof, with DJ SRB spinning vinyl between sets (KILLER lineup.) Music starts at 7:30 SHARP so ARRIVE ON TIME. The downstairs will be filled with vendors, including Protection Spell (vintage store run by the members of Weeping Icon) and Merch 4 Change (direct aid project for displaced Palestinians by selling mystery merch packs from NYC’s best bands. Also run by me and others from the NYC music scene).
Pmfd (as the heads call us) may or may not be recording a live version of our first EP, Songs For Promoters, along with a live taping. So be there!!!
The show goes wonderfully, we play new songs, we all solve world peace, people buy so much stuff downstairs, and it’s the event of the summer (or June at least).
Afterwards, we all say that we’re going to go somewhere and do something, but none of us do anything (playing music is tough work folks!). Carmen and I hop in my car to drive home (her girlfriend lives with me). Shower, get in bed, watch concert footage, play virtual gin rummy, fall asleep.
SATURDAY
I wake up, face towards the ceiling. It’s been replaced with a thick fog, a pale light hazily shining through, almost like the understory of a rainforest. I try to look out the windows, but my vision blurs like tv static when I reach for the curtains.
Scared and confused, I get dressed and make my way to the kitchen for breakfast. Everything seems normal in the living room. I make my normal breakfast (egg sandwich with avocado, arugula, scallions, kewpie sriracha mayo, and white cheddar on a ciabatta roll, plus an iced coffee) and eat it right on the cutting board.
I really have to pee, so let’s go piss girl. I open the bathroom door and it’s a long hallway right out of a stuffy corporate office, lit by incandescent lights with that eerie, yet comforting hum. I step in, curious to figure out what the fuck’s going on. The door slams behind me and locks. At this point, I piss my pants, but it strangely dries on the spot.
Not really sure what’s happening. There’s a series of doors, so I enter the first one. It’s Star Delicious. Guess it’s lunchtime. It’s my fav Colombian spot, and my order—a #11 with passionfruit juice, is waiting on a table in the booth. It’s eerily pristine in here, and there’s music playing (but it sounds like it’s playing in a hallway?) I eat as if it's the first meal I’ve ever had. There’s no one here—not even staff. I hear a banging coming from the inside of the walk-in freezer. It gets louder as I approach. It’s deafening standing out front, someone—or something—making the most terrifying noise. I open the freezer, but it’s the hallway again.
Seriously, what the fuck is going on. Next door. I’m in the suburbs, but it looks like it was made in Windows XP. I feel at home, but also like I intruded in a space where I shouldn’t be. There's a pink glow emanating from the door of the last house in the cul de sac. Maybe a way out? Idk.
I enter—oh good it’s Star’s Revenge playing at Temporary State University's 12 Hour Party in Ridgewood. It’s packed. I begin to move to the front. Everyone parts like the Red Sea for me. I expect to see a reaction from my friend Olive or Em, but nothing. Actually, it looks like there’s nothing behind their eyes at all. I walk up on stage to examine them. The words they sing don’t match up with what’s coming out of the speakers. I start hearing that incandescent hum. It’s getting louder. I check the amps, and it’s near deafening. I touch Olive’s shoulder to tell her, and everyone turns to me and starts to yell at me. “Leave! Leave!! LEAVE!” They yell. I turn towards the crowd to see what’s going on, but there’s no one here. I run to the door again as my vision blurs to static, and I’m back in the hallway. The lights now flicker. I need to get out of here.
Last door. I’m at Elsewhere Pride. Thank God, ‘cause Carmen, my bassist, is working the door. But she’s not. Her chair is knocked over, her stand broken on the ground. I run into the hall to find her. Empty. The music is thumping in my chest at a nauseating level, and the incandescent hum is piercing my ears. I can barely see with the static. There’s a shadowy figure approaching me, but I can’t run. I can’t move at all. As I silently scream, the static envelopes my vision. I’ve lived a good life this weekend.
SUNDAY
I jolt out of my bed. Holy fuck, what was that? My room is normal again, no haze. The bathroom is fine, no more hallway. It was a dream I guess.
Despite my horrid dreams yesterday, Sunday is fine. Church in Greenpoint (the kind that likes gay people), donuts from Peter Pan after in the vestibule, therapy in UWS, movie at film forum while avoiding pride crowds, making “the rounds” seeing familiar faces (Fanelli Cafe where I used to work for dinner, Tom and Jerry’s and Milanos to visit the bartenders.) Slices at Prince St Pizza to fight off the alcohol (it works!), M train home. It’s late, I’m drunk, I feel content, the world is right, and last night’s dreams feel like a fading memory at this point.
I get home, scurry upstairs, and get right in bed. I have to pee though, so I head to the bathroom. I open the door. Fuck, it’s the hallway again. I slam the door and turn around, but I’m still in the hallway. I open the bathroom door again. It’s a black void, and I see the figure fast approaching. I turn and run.
The hum is getting louder. The lights are turning red. I hear the scream of the figure. The hallway is fading to static in front, the figure enveloping me in black from behind. “YOU CANNOT ESCAPE,” the figure yells. The hallway never ends. The hallway never ends. It never ends. It never ends. IT NEVER ENDS IT NEVER ENDS IT NEVER ENDS
IT NEVER ENDSIT NEVER ENDSIT NEVER ENDSIT NEVER ENDSIT NEV ER E ND S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S I T N E V E R E N D S
I’ve lived a good life this weekend.
Itinerary above written + submitted by Pop Music Fever Dream. Follow the band at @pmfd.nyc, and add the songs to your Spotify playlists!
Feature image provided by the band.
MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS
NEW CLASSIFIEDS ARE UP! “Stoner doom guitar player” Eric is “looking for a stoner doom drummer,” BdBK faves Short Porch are also looking for a drummer (prob slightly less stoner/doomy) and more! Find all listings with details and contact info here.
RELEASE RADAR
New(ish) stuff from local (+ occasionally, once-local) artists we love, listed in no particular order whatsoever:
“101” // Moon Kissed
“PASSAR MAL” // Hause Plants
“Steal the Night” // SKORTS
“Be Still” // No Surrender
THE SETLIST by Bands do BK is a reader-supported publication that’s freeeee. BUT! If you want to become a paid subscriber to show some love and support the work BdBK is doing… well, hey. That’d be pretty rad of you. <3