Before I went to B.B. King's and started questioning the idea of hip-hop as we know it, I saw a few indie rock bands at a showcase put on by Brooklyn label
Kanine at Cake Shop on the Lower East Side.
Dinowalrus is a band name you'd expect to find on a Pitchfork parody site, but it's real. They play psych-rock passed down from 13th Floor Elevators and Sonic Youth, and they were sloppy and front man Pete Feigenbaum can't sing. But Feigenbaum can talk in a lanky stoner manner that makes him automatically ingratiating. "This next song is about pumping iron on Venice Beach with my man Glen Danzig," he said at one point, before launching into something decidedly less interesting than that intro. But Feigenbaum is skinny enough and eagle-shirted enough and moppy-haired enough to look like some sort of indie heartthrob, so I guess Dinowalrus have that going for them.