In the wake of our performance at the Beacon Theatre*, we OK Go-ers wasted no time in tearing up the great city of New York.
The first stop on the trail of destruction was Fuse TV. OK, fine. It's obviously hard to reconcile "trail of destruction" and "choreographed dance" in the same sentence (unless you're waving a baseball bat at a bunch of scared ballerinas) but take my word for it: some of those kids left the studio audience on stretchers, crippled by our display of charm, manliness and in-time-with-the-music-ness. By the way, those two hosts are constantly in "Hey! I'm crazy TV show host persona person!" even when the cameras are off. It's slightly endearing, slightly creepy**, and totally answers the question "I wonder how you get a job like that?"
Next we were on to B.B. King's for the release party for Sandra Boynton's
new book/CD, which features bands and celebrities singing and playing her songs. Weird Al and Kate Winslet sing a duet. Hell just froze over. I didn't understand at first that this party was for some sort of kid's product, so I got a little bugged out by the playpen area, and the huge spread of mini grilled cheeses and bagel-pizzas that served as finger food. The open bar didn't seem to fit the occasion either, but it suited me just fine. Because I don't know much about these things, I didn't realize that Ms. Boynton is one the most successful designers and authors out there. Her greeting cards sold 50 to 80 million copies a year in the 80s, and all her books are best sellers. She could crush you and kill you and then write a really cute obituary. Had any of us been smart enough to figure out how accomplished Ms. Boynton was, or that she could destroy us with her Oprah-like powers, we would have been kissing serious ass. Instead, we just stood there open-mouthed, throwing back free booze and enjoying the very odd sight of dressed-up adults getting blitzed among throngs of screaming toddlers (insert Michael Jackson joke here). Things didn't get any less weird when Weird Al popped up on stage to announce a surprise mystery guest: the Spin Doctors. The Spin Doctors? To answer your question: yes, they still exist. And they have a new album that will be heard by 1/10000000000000000000th of the people who'll listen to this kids book, probably while pooping their pants. Somehow, The Spin Doctors made the whole scene a little less exotic and a bit more depressing, so we had to bust.
There was important business at hand. OK Go was off to our first awards show extravaganza. That's right folks, we were invited to the second-ever MTVu Woodie Awards. Even better, Damian was asked to present the award for International Woodie of the Year (or "Vooooodie Intearnacccionaaaal" as Damian referred to it on camera, probably freaking out his college student co-presenter.) It was a very fun time, and not just because of the wide open bar. (If you can't see where this night was going, you're drunker than we were.) We were treated to performances by Death Cab For Cutie, The Go! Team (I want to tour with them, just because the bill would look super funny: OK Go & The Go! Team), and Matisyahu, "The Hasidic Reggae Superstar," who everyone thought did a fine to pretty good job, except for Tim, who was enraged by his presence. (Dr. Nordwind has just informed me he'll be writing a post about Matisyahu in the next few days explaining the fury that burns inside his little Tim tummy.)
I bowed out at this point, as did brother Dan, but I've heard unconfirmed reports of Jorge and Damian mistaking a fancy upper-west side apartment building for Damian's hotel, somehow getting by the worst doorman ever, walking around the fifth floor for half an hour before banging on some poor lady's door at 3am. Which brings up this service announcement: don't drink and be Damian.
* - I've been to the Beacon once before, when I had nose-bleed seats for one of the Allman Brothers annual "50-billion-shows-at-the-Beacon-in-a-week" stints in 1999. To be playing on that same stage six years later was weird, but not as weird as the acid-tripping hippie at the Allmans show. He smelled bad. And he had no rhythm.
** - I take that back. They were both really nice.