Friday was his Andrew Yang for President themed album release party at a bar/coffee shop/venue near K2 corner called ‘Jones Beach.’ The website mentioned a $10 cover, but when I arrived it was ‘by donation,’ so I gave them all the money in my wallet: $8. (I really like to support Paper Boy Prince of the Suburbs and am indifferent to Andrew Yang. I was already registered to vote.)
I squished myself into the corner of the bar to people watch because I was alone. I eavesdropped on a dork in shorts with the same name as yours truly as he introduced himself to Paper Boy (I wanted to do that!) to talk about why Andrew Yang is so great. Paper Boy’s hair was short, and the top was bleached blond with ‘$1,000’ written in white, representing Andrew Yang’s silly, but cute promise to give each American $1,000/month.
A man talking to my namesake after Paper Boy left screamed without warning, "I don't have a girlfriend!" I knew how he felt but wanted him to shut the fuck up. He was embarrassing himself. And me.
Another guy with slicked back hair and handsome, bulging eyes bought his entire crew a drink as his two friends had an inane, drunken conversation about how they don't have conversations that they shouldn't have. I did not understand this, but I liked trying.
Jones Beach is a hallway with a bar in it, which leads to a smaller hallway with a bathroom closet and an actual closet at the end of that hallway, where shows are hosted. The room was empty before Paper Boy was ready to perform, and a band that wasn't about to perform unnecessarily filled the room with their amps and a drum kit. Known to many as the rapper from in front of the Popeye's on K2 corner, Paper Boy is otherwise very good, and draws crowds accordingly. The place was a fire hazard for everyone--including an unfit old couple in the audience--and an honor to Paper Boy.
Paper Boy was starting, and I was in the corner, comfortably nestled uncomfortably beside a new couple that was unnecessarily making out, while Paper Boy let some no-name losers from the crowd freestyle. He is a very generous person to give up his valuable time to the talent less, rhythmically speaking incomprehensible phrases over a bad mic. The crowd still managed to laugh and ooh and aah at lyrics that I doubt were legitimately funny. It all sounded garbled to me.
The couple left after the freestyles and before Paper By performed. They never came back and stayed for the worst part so they probably went to have sex.
Paper Boy knows that listeners today want simple, catchy hooks about spaghetti and math. Money and misogyny are so 2000s, and the fashionable lyrical topic of depression is overplayed. Paper Boy is not depressed, nor does he fake it for clout, so he doesn’t need a face tattoo and relies on creativity alone.
When Paper Boy finally performed his hit song ‘Math’ he was in the midst of the crowd and only had a tiny circle of space around him. He really knew how to work the crowd. The man without the girlfriend thrashed around excitedly in Paper Boy’s small circle, “celebrating” selfishly and blocking my only good angle to record 'Math' for my math teacher roommate. By choice Paper Boy took to standing on the band’s amp so people in the back could see him, opting to move a little less. He was very generous.
After his 15 minute set Paper Boy took a break and a girl dressed as a penis took his spot on the amp.
“I love dick!!” She screamed, and the crowd screamed with her. “I love dick pics!!!” The crowd roared. “Dressing up like this, I know what it is like to have unjustified privilege!” I rolled my fucking eyes. It used to be that a girl could just dress up like a penis and sing songs about dicks. Now, everything has to be socio-sexual-political.
She had more than one song about the topic of dicks, and dick pics. It was lowbrow, and worse, it was unfunny. I took the opportunity to finally talk to Paper Boy, now shirtless.
“Hey, what’s that song about spaghetti?” I asked him. “I love that song.”
“That is a song called Spaghetti. There is also one called Spaghetti Dessert.”
“Can you perform those songs?”
“It has not been requested yet. That is one of my lesser known songs. Now that it has been requested I will perform it next.”
“Thank you,” I said. Then Paper Boy was accosted by another ravenous fan and I went to the bar to close my tab with a shot of tequila and to escape the wretched songs of the girl in the penis costume. A large group of people gathered outside Jones Beach, and loitered there. They were not coming inside. They must not have known who Paper Boy was.
I wandered the neighborhood, reminded of the years that I wasted on these streets, then ran back inside thinking that I might miss Paper Boy perform ‘Spaghetti.’ Instead, a different artist was performing: Lexa Terrestrial. She was admittedly very tiny, and her parents were in the audience.
“I want to thank my parents for coming tonight!” She yelled and the crowd roared.
If the penis girl had any decency/decent parents, she would never perform in front of them. Therefore I took Lexa Terrestrial more seriously than the penis girl, and liked her outfit more: she wore a mini-skirt and what looked like a metallic top that was strapped with stuffed animals. I liked her, but I wanted more Paper...yeah!
She finished and it was ok. Then some kid in a boring hoodie (no costume) and a tattoo on his cheekbone came up to perform. What was this? A talent show?
“I need everyone to turn the fuck up!!” he demanded.
‘You can’t demand that your audience be turned up before you start performing! You need to turn us up!’ I thought. What a wasted face….I didn’t care to remember his name, and left before Paper Boy could perform spaghetti. It was late. I was tired.
On my way out I noticed a faded sign in the window of Jones Beach listing all of the ‘types’ of people that were not welcome: racists, transphobes, bigots, homophobes etc.
‘Don't be cowards. Just say ‘No Trump supporters.’ That’s what you really mean,’ I thought.
Art is so needlessly political nowadays. Even the lovely Paper Boy, with his 'Andrew Yang for President’ album release party is guilty of politicizing his art.
However, Andrew Yang is the only acceptable candidate for Paper Boy's support because Paper Boy is as unique on the surface as Andrew Yang: an Asian, Democrat and businessman. They both defy categorization, have agreeable personality types, and aren't obsessed with sex-politics.
Subscribe to Paper Boy Prince
On my way out I noticed a faded sign in the window of Jones Beach listing all of the ‘types’ of people that were not welcome: racists, transphobes, bigots, homophobes etc.
‘Don't be cowards. Just say ‘No Trump supporters.’ That’s what you really mean,’ I thought.
Art is so needlessly political nowadays. Even the lovely Paper Boy, with his 'Andrew Yang for President’ album release party is guilty of politicizing his art.
However, Andrew Yang is the only acceptable candidate for Paper Boy's support because Paper Boy is as unique on the surface as Andrew Yang: an Asian, Democrat and businessman. They both defy categorization, have agreeable personality types, and aren't obsessed with sex-politics.
Subscribe to Paper Boy Prince
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