A word about the after-party. Every scenester, music fan and habitual performing arts patron is familiar with the concept. Most people who are driven to get up in front of other people at night in order to entertain them — I don't care if they're actors, symphony members or stand-up comedians — are incapable of leaving a stage, going home and going to bed. There's a rush that comes with performance, one that doesn't immediately fade when the performance ends, and it can be difficult to wind down. Hell, it can be difficult to want to wind down.Many performers adopt various rituals in order to either combat or facilitate post-show decompression. It can be something as simple as answering one's e-mail, or kicking back with a pint of ice cream and seeing what got TiVO'ed that day. In the context of youth-culture attractions like local bands, underground touring bands and road-dogging stand-ups, however, it more often manifests itself as rowdy socializing and attempts to get laid.
When that happens, and it happens somewhere other than the performance did, and there are more than, say, two people present who didn't perform, it's known as an after-party.
Generally speaking, the after-party is a horrible and obsolete idea: a remnant that society should have jettisoned but somehow didn't, like circumcision or Burger King. After-parties usually suck with fervor. There are memorable exceptions, but usually it's nine or 10 dudes slowly sobering up while wondering when Dude 11 will show up with the beer/liquor/dope and telling the band how rad that one after-party was when Rancid came over and that girl pissed herself. What's more, even the good ones usually suck for the first hour, inspiring an extremely irritating sense of being in limbo. What are you gonna do, leave and come back? It's fucking 3 a.m. The only other place to go is home, and if you go home, you're not coming back. And if you don't come back, you'll miss the gratuitous nudity, flagrant drug use and non-stop fistfights that are almost certainly not going to happen anyway, but just might.
Aha.
Therein lies the secret of the after-party's continued cultural relevance: the fear that if you don't go, something amazing will happen. I mean amazing in a relative sense; amazing as in four guys picking up a Volkswagen beetle that's blocking them in; amazing as in somebody creeping over and stealing the cruiser of a Hillsborough County Sheriff called to bust up the party at the frat-house across the street. Or shit, maybe the next-door neighbor will come over to complain about the noise, and it'll be Jim Morrison. I don't know. That's the point.
Of course, there's another edge to that particular sword. If you don't go, you might miss the entertainment, but if you do go, you might be the entertainment. Nothing inspires a reevaluation of the whole deal quite like suddenly finding oneself standing in a stranger's front yard, trying to out-scream a screaming friend or significant other (after-parties are responsible for more breakups than ESPN and Neil LaBute's films combined), with absolutely no idea what you're fighting about, with everyone else looking on.
Still, when I'm told there's an after-party in the offing, it's the few really fun ones I immediately recall, rather than the handful of humiliating ones or the countless negligible others. It could be said that I'm a man with a serious problem, who doesn't seem to learn from his mistakes. I prefer to think of myself as an optimist.
So, then, is there any way of knowing ahead of time whether an after-party will be a blast or a bust?
Not really, no — unless you count assuming all of them will be busts, and thusly not being present when the Suicide Girls' tour bus pulls up outside your buddy's apartment.
There are, however, somewhat reliable indicators, subtle and not-so-subtle signs that should push your expectations one way or the other. Here are five characteristics of what could be the best after-party you won't remember afterward, and five warnings foreshadowing a likely dud.
BLAST
FLYERS There's been some planning here; you probably won't have to worry about a defeating lack of staples, like people. Plus, a flyer always raises the possibility of that traditional party status-maker, police intervention.
LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION If the party's being thrown in an odd environment, you've already been guaranteed something at least a little interesting. Apartments and houses can be cool, but when somebody hands you a napkin that says "the condemned Sacino's across the street," you've gotta be intrigued.
THE HOST IS WEALTHY, AND A REPUTED ECSTASY DEALER A couple flutes of Cristal, and you'll forget all about feeling out of place amid the gorgeous people and their horrible music.
THE HOST IS POOR, AND A REPUTED POT DEALER A couple cans of Schlitz, and you'll forget all about feeling out of place amid the frightening people and their horrible music — and their dogs and snakes.
THE BAND NASHVILLE PUSSY ANNOUNCES WHERE THEY'LL BE FROM THE STAGE It's just a good sign, exactly like the previous one, but with better music. And Nashville Pussy, a band you don't have to have heard to suspect that they can party.
BUST
THERE'S AN INTERIM "MEETING PLACE" BETWEEN THE EVENT AND THE AFTER-PARTY Occasionally this means the site is a cool, exclusive one. Far more often, however, it means somebody had to wake up their husband/wife/roommate/legal guardian and ask if it's OK if a few friends come over.
CONFLICTING EVENTS If you and two of your friends emerge from the show with three different stories and sets of directions, just call it a night. It won't be until tomorrow that you figure out you were all talking about the same after-party, anyway.
QUESTIONABLE SOURCES It's last call and a guy no one seems to know is running around the bar, telling everybody about the massive after-party — for the first time. You will undoubtedly see this guy trying unsuccessfully to buy two six-packs from a bartender 15 minutes later.
THE SUPPOSED HOST IS OBVIOUSLY INEBRIATED BEFORE THE SHOW EVEN STARTS Have you ever seen a dozen people surrounding a house and knocking in unison on its windows at two in the morning? You laughed, right?
THE PERFORMER WON'T COMMIT The whole point of the after-party is to interact with people better and more talented than you in an environment that makes them appear not to be. Without them, it's just a party. And who the hell wants that?
Contact Scott Harrell at 813-739-4856, or at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in May 27 – Jun 2, 2004.