The Final Skate for Two Man
Several years ago, my band, Blackout Shoppers, was setting up for our turn to play on the stage at a punk rock show. We were playing with one of my favorite bands of all time, Two Man Advantage. Two Man’s “Captain,” Jeff Kaplan, noted striking similarities between our two musical groups.
“We have an intro song,” he noted with a smile, “and you guys have an intro song.”
“We have a guy with a mask on stage,” he continued, “and you guys have a guy in a mask on stage.”
“Captain,” I replied, “we only steal from the best.”
No doubt, I count myself among many whose life would not be the same today had I not been a fan of Two Man Advantage. The Long Island-based hardcore punk band was put together in 1997 for the purpose of playing one single show at a friend’s party. This past October, they hung up their skates after 28 years.
I had never heard of them before going to The Knitting Factory in the summer of 2003 for a Go Kart Records show to see two bands fronted by former members of the Lunachicks (Bantam and Team Squid). I had no idea who else would be playing.
When a hockey-themed band started setting up I really wasn’t sure I would like them. I was afraid they might be a beat-down hardcore band that took itself too seriously, which the sports jerseys seemed to portend. But the music started and they had a guy in a mask! An excellent artistic flourish. The music was not beat-down drudgery but fast-paced, hard-driving old-school hardcore punk – the finest. When the lead singer came to the stage waving a hockey stick with ‘DRUNK BASTARD’ emblazoned on the back of his jersey, I could tell this band had a sense of humor. The music never let up; they played a set full of fast, aggressive songs that were catchy tunes and were mostly about hockey. I didn’t follow hockey, but so what? The music was so much fun and the band attacked each song with a volume and intensity that I couldn’t help but jump in the pit.
And at the time I was looking to start or join a band, and over the next year Blackout Shoppers came together and started playing regularly. Stealing ideas from Two Man Advantage and Philadelphia’s Loafass, I started wearing a mask on stage and we developed an intro song so our singer could make a separate entrance.
Throughout their nearly three decades, the band has played with all manner of hardcore punk’s elite. and toured the U.S. extensively. Not too long after Blackout Shoppers formed, we had the opportunity to share the stage with 2MA, and every time we did it was a great time. Getting to know the members of the band over the years increased one’s appreciation for the group. Every conversation with guitar player the Captain teaches me something interesting, be it mathematical theory or records – he’s forgotten more about music than I may ever know. Lead singer Anthony “Spag” Spagnolo and drummer Aaron “Coach” Pagdon were DJs at my wedding – Spag’s apartment has the largest record collection I have ever seen outside of a record store or radio station. Not long after DJing my wedding, Coach and his wife were married on Easter Island. Guitar player Robert “Sk8” Locasio works in film and television production. Bass player Jeff “Slapshot” Marsala had been traveling to New York from Pittsburgh to play shows, and produced a great series videos of Two Man members and friends sharing stories from the band’s past. Backing singer Myk Rudnick works in merchandising for the music industry, from thrash metal to rap—I was happy to learn he is friends with M.C. Search from 3rd Bass.
Blackout Shoppers was also fortunate to put out a split 7-inch record with 2MA, and we booked a weekend tour together to promote the new record. While it was perhaps not as eventful as some of Two Man’s other adventures on the road, our brief tour included staying in a dilapidated house in February with no heat; witnessing a car fire that blazed with bonfire-sized flames on a busy highway; playing in a warehouse DIY space so densely crowded with sweaty people moshing that it had its own visibly sticky atmosphere; spending the night in Boston at the home of a woman who was a former pro-wrestler, made us the best chicken nachos ever, and had converted an entire room of her apartment into a ball pit; and playing a final show in the midst of a blizzard that threatened to shut down New York City. What little money the bands made went to pay for gas and beer, and it was an absolute blast.
When Blackout Shoppers celebrated its 20th anniversary last year, Two Man Advantage was on the bill. They delivered a great set that helped keep the momentum going.
Earlier this year, notices appeared on social media promoting Two Man Advantage’s ‘Final Skate.’
I asked if there might at some point be a Two Man Advantage reunion; after all, I had been present for several “final tours” of bands such as Motley Crue and Slayer. “This will be it,” Captain replied.
Tickets went on sale for the band’s final show at Amityville Music Hall in Amityville, Long Island, and I quickly snatched up a pair of tickets online. I am glad I bought them early—the show sold out.
On the night of the show, I got to the venue early and joined a line that stretched down the block. Once the doors opened, I got on the merchandise line almost immediately; by the time I reached Two Man’s merch table, most of their t-shirts were gone. They sold out of nearly all their merchandise before a single note of music was played.
The first band on was Burrito Bowel, a young grindcore band that includes Vlad Rudnick, son of Two Man backing singer Myk Rudnick, on bass. I remember when Vlad was 10 years old and standing by the side of the stage at Two Man shows, with a few of us shielding him from flying bodies emanating from the mosh pit. Now he sometimes plays bass in the mosh pit while wearing a hockey jersey. Vlad works as a sound engineer and mixed Two Man Advantage’s final record. Next were The Stress, an old-school style Oi band, who delivered a great set of tight songs with excellent, envy-inducing bass lines. Deathcycle took the stage next, delivering great, metal-infused hardcore. Deathcycle’s singer, Ron Grimaldi, spends almost as much time off stage as on it, and their sets become a ‘Where’s Waldo?’-like exercise in seeing where Ron will pop up next; they deliver in-your-face hardcore like no one else. No Redeeming Social Value is the gold standard of how to do hardcore punk without taking yourself too seriously (though they may give that designation to The Six and Violence)—songs about beer, Guidos, chicken, and pussy overlaid with showers of malt liquor and costumed mayhem. Perfect for the occasion.
People got into position for Two Man Advantage, and I had a nice spot at stage left. It was both a thrilling and solemn moment. This was going to be a great Two Man Advantage show where the band and audience was going to give their all, and it was also the last time the band would perform. Anticipation built as things came into place.
The sold-out crowd roared when Two Man Advantage took the stage. As is tradition, Coach took the microphone to give an introduction before the music started. He thanked the audience and he noted that it was hard to say goodbye to something you love, and that decades of music had changed all of their lives for the better. “This family is a band,” he told the crowd.
Two Man started their traditional intro song “2MA Intro,” and the crowd quickly turned into a churning mass of moshing. It rained beer and bodies, which intensified with each song, and I struggled and then gave up trying to get good, up-close photos. This was musical chaos to be savored in the moment, and it felt very fitting that the final Two Man Advantage performance was a donnybrook that eventually chased me away from the front of the stage. The music was relentless and people were yelling themselves hoarse singing along.
The band played crowd favorites, including “Don’t Label Us;” “Hot Rod GTO,” about the Pontiac GTO and Spag’s experiences with them; “Zamboni Driving Maniac,” which earned the band a threatening legal letter from the Zamboni company (Zambonis are the machines that smooth out the ice on an ice rink); and “Captain Morgan,” about the rum bearing the name of the pirate—the band had two very large bottles of Captain Morgan run passed around to the crowd to share. Two Man brought up former members and special guests throughout the show. The venue at the end of their set felt like a battle had been won; then they came back for an encore and played more songs.
Two Man Advantage made music with sincerity and love, and shared it with the world in the same way. That is why their final show sold out, why their merchandise was snatched up in minutes. That’s why people planned road trips to follow their tours, and why people traveled thousands of miles to be there for the farewell.
Thank you, Two Man!
Shakedown at the warehouse club
There was shopping to do and we had to get the kids out of the house.
If you have a car in New York City you are one of a privileged few. You can blaze a trail of adventure and wanderlust across the land. Or, you can simply drive someplace where it is a little less crowded to do your shopping, avoiding the hordes that clog your local stores for the slightly less overstuffed shopping experiences of the suburbs.
Pro tip for current and future parents: IKEA stores have a free indoor play area called “Småland” where they will babysit your kids for free if you are in their store.
This past Sunday we headed to Hicksville for the chance to look again at a couch we may want to buy from IKEA and to do our bulk shopping where it was slightly less aggravating.
The drive had put our children to sleep and my wife and I enjoyed listening to Joan Jett’s greatest hits and catching up on adult conversation while our three blessed hellions slumped in their child seats. We decided to get some of our shopping done while they napped. I headed to BJs.
BJ’s is not as fun as it sounds. It’s not an emporium of fellatio but rather a warehouse club like Costco or Sam’s Club. Showing your BJ’s card only wins you the pleasure of buying in bulk.
The BJs in Westbury, Long Island, was a lot less crowded than the one we usually visit in College Point, Queens. I found the things I needed easily. I got in line at one of the self-checkout lanes as going to one of the other lines means an incredibly long wait behind people whose shopping carts are filled to the brim with bulk items.
The woman is taking too long looking over everyone’s cart and there is a line forming just to get out of the store.
The only question I’ve ever had facing this security check in the past is if one of my daughters asks me if this person is going to draw a Mickey Mouse on our receipt.
The woman looks at my cart for what seems like an extended period and then circles the number of items on my receipt. She says there is a problem, something about me having too many items in my cart. Her English is poor, and I ask what is the item that wasn’t scanned. She points to the checkout area, and I think she wants me to go back there but I want to understand this problem and solve it quickly. I’m not going to scan every item again or stand on another line if the store is bringing up the issue. I keep asking what the problem is and what’s not right, and I get no answer. The woman leaves me there and starts checking other customers’ receipts. A chubby woman mumbles something under her breath at me as she walks by, but not loud enough to hear.
The receipt women with broken English calls someone else over. He checks my receipt. He counts the items in my cart. He checks the receipt again; he counts the items in my cart again. People keep passing by and looking at me. I stay stoic.
The young man now checks the UPC numbers on every item against my receipt. He’s moving more things around in the cart and checking off each item on the receipt.
“The tomato sauce,” he says before scurrying off. “The tomato sauce.”
The receipt checking lady has forgotten about me. Her backup left me standing there with my marked-up receipt and no recommendations. I don’t bother to check his work; I just want out of there. I put the tomato sauce aside and walk out the door. No one stops me. I’m free but without the tomato sauce we wanted to buy and with precious time wasted.
Westbury BJ’s: 1, Polite New Yorker: 0.
I had traded the aggravation of weaving your way through crowds of clueless shoppers to being shaken down by store security and singled out as a potential shoplifter. While this was annoying it could have been so much worse. People who forget to scan the groceries on the bottom shelf of their shopping cart have been accused of shoplifting and had their careers ruined. The store employees could have called the police.
I made it back to my van without further delay. The children were awake. We moved on to our next adventure.
Goodbye Alumni Club
The secret to a good bar has nothing to do with what beers are on tap or what its décor looks like. The only valid measure of a bar is its character, it supersedes all other measures. I’ve been in bars that reeked of piss and fruit flies that were a thousand times better than the cleanest, sleekest pre-fabricated gastropub.
Dive bars are often the best bars to visit. One of the finest pubs in the recent history of New York was the Village Idiot, which closed its doors in 2004 and had the most eclectic crowd ever. My first visit there a 6-foot-plus transvestite played pool with some tipsy yuppies while construction workers drank at the bar. Mars Bar had bathrooms that were even filthier than CBGB’s bathrooms, which were legendary for their filth. But it didn’t matter. Mars Bar and Village Idiot brought some of the most interesting varieties of people to drink together.
Of course there’s a certain hip cache to the dive bar now, but you can tell which bars are faking it and which bars aren’t. I like to think I’ve visited enough bars to be able to tell the difference without too much effort, but I’ve been out of the drinking game for more than five years now and my visits to bars are few and far between.
And New York City has lost some of its best dive bars. There are a few though that are keeping things alive. Nancy Whiskey, Rudy’s and The Patriot are all the real thing: good dive bars with real character.
But great New York bars are not restricted to the five boroughs, and one of the finest bars ever recently hosted its last hurrah.
The Alumni Club just outside the city limits in New Hyde Park, New York is a place I discovered through my wife, who was a long-time regular and used to tend bar there. It sat among a row of storefronts and its location was generally unremarkable. You needed a car to get there though theoretically you could take a Nassau County bus.
The Alumni Club was a bar that was both eclectic in its clientele and without pretension. While it had its population of longtime regulars, no strangers were ever made to feel unwelcome. I don’t even drink and I was welcome there. I would even bring in large beverages from the 7-Eleven across the street and no one would mind. I’d always ask the bartender if he or she wanted anything. I’m convinced the bar lost no money on my account; my wife could drink enough for both of us.
There was almost always some offering of free food and the owner or bartender encouraged visitors to eat. Once I went there to catch the end of the Georgia Bulldogs game and found they were in the midst of a “casino night” themed evening. The bar had some system worked out where they weren’t technically gambling there but I wasn’t sure how it worked and I figured the less I knew the better.
But the best part about the Alumni Club was the character and good atmosphere. It was not in a trendy part of the city and had nothing to prove. People who went there were working people who wanted to drink, not people who wanted to be seen drinking.
Needless to say a bar of this caliber of excellence tends to have many loyal patrons and when the bar announced it was going to be shutting its doors, employees and patrons alike began planning the farewell party.
The last Saturday this May was the Alumni Club’s big blowout party that included a lot of food and copious amounts of alcohol. T-shirts made for the event read, “We drank it dry.” Patrons lived up to the boast: when bartenders showed up for work the next day they found that the place had run out of beer.
This week Alumni Club will close its doors for good. Guests and employees will remember their alma mater with pride.
Matthew Sheahan 
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