Art Star - The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs - Mini Album - 2003

So I have now had two seperate people tell me that my color scheme made their heads hurt, so in lieu of driving away loyal readership, I've updated the look of the olde blog here. Tried to give it a somewhat "iPod-y" look. Hope this one suits people better.

Once Anand and I emerged from the park we realized that we had gone several hours in Berlin without a beer and this needed to be corrected. We resolved to step into the first bar we saw. We walked the way towards Charlottenburg palace, taking in the sites of the west side. The differences were pretty obvious.

Firstly the archetecture was more varied, more western looking, as oppossed to the boxy buildings of the previously soviet east side. Beyond that it was clear that this side was more affluent and family oriented, but also a bit less friendly (though still nowhere near as grouchy as my beloved NYC). As promised, we went into the first bar we found.

Old man bars are the same the world over. They have the same basic layout, the narrow bar with an open back room. They always have dart boards and whatever form of cheap electronic gambling is legal in that area (in Berlin it was an actual slot machine). There are always a couple of women, one a good natured wife with a ridiculously outdated hair style, the other a raging alcoholic who can barely lift her head off the table. The bar tender will always be gruff but polite, irritated by intruders into his closed world, but not enough to turn away business. The German variant had the bar tender giving us an exceptionally slow pour, actually taking some pride in the beer he served. The alcoholic woman clung to the wall, face pressed against like Spiderman to make her way to the bathroom. Another older gentlemen (at least 60's) incongruously bobbed his head to "Sexyback" (The music is always American).

We finished our beer and our shot uneventfully, enjoying some time off of our feet after the 6-7 mile walk. This clearly was not the bar to make conversation at.

Karen O has three basic singing modes, her Cobain-like scream, her "Maps" hipster croon, and her Pat Benetar snear...she exercises all three on this song while succesfully lampooning the Williamsburg art scene that she so clearly comes from. Biting the hand that feeds you is the best way to make in an inroad with that crowd. They love to be reminded that they are viscious shallow assholes, cause at least those people are cool. Right?