The Hangover: Oct.23-28

Pub date October 31, 2011

Fever dreams and wardrobe malfunctions: all about Halloween Weekend 2011 (and it’s still not over!)

**It’s a little nerve-wracking going out in costume for a show when it’s not  quite yet Halloween. What if no one else dresses up and it’s a scene out of  Legally Blonde? Luckily the bands at Brick and Mortar (Zulus, Uzi Rash, Apache, Nobunny, Ty Segall)  were slated to perform costumed covers, so I figured it would be safe. (Plus, I  spent enough money making the damn thing to ensure I’d be living with my dad for an additional month — so I was gonna milk it.) Still, when I got inside the venue, I scouted to find some other outfits among black  clothes and leather. A guy was wearing a 1994 USA Olympic Dream Team  windbreaker (“Carl Mullen” he told me, pointing to one of the figures  with a basketball) and a still priced-tagged Batman cap, so I assume that he was the first of many Tyler the Creators, despite his refusal. Another guy was dressed as Middle Aged Business Man Who Has Too Much To Drink, Tries To Mosh Too Early, And Is Never Seen Again, but this was easily topped by the best costume of the night: Totally Trashed Crazy Girl (Ryan Prendiville)

**If you were in the back of the Prospector in Long Beach, Calif. on Saturday night, you likely saw my glowing light saber sharking through moshing bodies up front for the Shitfits, a Misfits cover band (actually, the members of now-defunct math rock act the Valley Arena) that comes together just once a year at this special time. The musicians, who are now spread out across the U.S. in San Francisco, New York City, and Long Beach, have been dressing up as the Shitfits for the past six or so Halloweens, though they claimed this perhaps could be their last. My saber disappeared sooner than I’d hoped, when an angry, long-haired, ratfink tried to start some shit in the pit. This is Halloween, man, we’re here to celebrate ghoulish punk, not incite brocious pummeling. No matter, the sweaty set tore it up, kicking off with “Where Eagles Dare” and ending bittersweetly with “Last Caress. (Emily Savage) 

** South by Southwest favorites White Denim helped draw a sizable crowd in support of Manchester Orchestra to the Regency Ballroom on the Friday before Halloween. The Austin, Texas locals did not, however, save for a few ripping solos and a lap around the stage that coincided with some lyrics about running (I think), perform memorably for the sparsely costumed audience. White Denim played jammy, hip indie rock with, albeit, some interesting twists and breakdowns, and certainly with no lack of musicianship, but the set failed to deliver any standout moments. Instead, it seemed to fade into a background noise of other, similar bands with able musicians at the helm playing decent rock’n’roll to the Coachella generation. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

**There were art shags aplenty (and some lovely folks haven’t shown their faces on the nightlife scene in a while) at the tongue-through-cheek orgiastic spectacle that was Thursday’s “Ann Magnuson plays David Bowie and Jobriath, or, the Rock Star as Witch Doctor, Myth Maker, and Ritual Sacrifice” at the SF MoMA’s Halloween installment of its nighttime Now Playing series. While the live show featuring the beloved New York performance artist and Bongwater singer — backed by a fantastic four-piece live band — wasn’t quite as long as its title, it did covera whole lot of ground. Practically David Bowie’s entire career catalog got a glance, refracted through a bloody Mayan-type ritual enactment, with piñata even. But that was just the first bit. Jobriath, revered gay glam rock cult star who burnt out early and later died of AIDS, was resurrected and his tunes reverently trotted out by the always mesmerizing Ann. But in the end it was Beelzebub, the half-naked gogo “acolyte” dancing onstage throughout the entire show, who won. Imagine a wide-eyed Eyeore on ecstacy and you’re halfway there. (Marke B.)

**Santa Cruz did what it does best this weekend: dress up like crazies. Also: Peewee Herman! And motorcycle riders. And a Goldigger (why is that still a costume?). They had to, so that the surfers could be distracted from the fact that the Santa Cruz Coldwater Classic hit a weekend of sub-par waves in front of the town’s lighthouse. Not disappointing at all: the grin on eventual winner, Brazilian Miguel Pupo. Or the fish taco truck. No lines! (Caitlin Donohue)

**The season was in full effect Friday night at Kimo’s, with three costumed bands and quite a few creatively-attired audience members, including a dead-on Jack White. (It seemed all of Polk Street was in the Halloween spirit, for that matter, though the girls dressed as “slutty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” really should’ve known better.) Anyway, rockers Heavy Action — with ghostly back-up dancer — took the stage first with a raft of 70s covers (including “Boris the Spider,” complete with a prop spider), followed by punk-band-with-songs-about-Van-Damme-movies Dalton (all members were dressed as Wayne’s World characters). Headliners Street Justice moonlighted as “Sesame Street Justice” for the night. Turns out that in addition to teaching children about friendship, Bert and Ernie are also capable of throwing down big time. Who knew?(Cheryl Eddy)

**Trannyshack Halloween: A Party was OK on Saturday. Most of the drag numbers were recycled and a little tired, although a neatly choreographed dance number by several of our finest Asian zombie queens, the Rice Rockettes, to “Heads Will Roll” was cuuute. Hostesses Peaches Christ and Heklina seemed to be in a bad mood — and when secret guest costume contest judge Tommy Lee failed to show up, their wrath exploded. Playing his apology voicemail over the PA (he claimed he had “a show tomorrow so really need my rest … rock on, ladies!”) they could barely conceal their disappointment. And usually ace retro DJ Omar seemed a bit on autopilot — although Oingo Boingo’s “Dead Man’s Party” sounds great right now, and Mary J. Blige’s first album is really making a comeback through a wide variety of DJs. Some of the costumes were dope and we still danced to the wee hours. (Marke B.)