I know all the games you play, because I play them too!

I was watching my favorite TV show, The Best Week Ever, today when I announced that it is my professional dream to be a talking head on that show. If it were like me and Rachel Harris and Michael Ian Black all yammering on about Lindsay Lohan's boobs and Soul Plane starring Snoop Dogg..... well, a girl can dream!! Anyway, I realized that I hadn't posted one of my roundups in eons! So, here goes...

Winners:

The commercial for "I Love the 90s." I know, I lknow, I should find this exercise in too-recent nostalgia embarassing and just plain bad. But I can't help liking it. Joe E. Tata is in it reprising his role as Nat at the Peach Pit. Rachel Harris (yeah, I already mentioned how much I think she rocks) is totally wearing a bad Brenda babydoll dress. I know that this show is going to talk about "news"-y personalities like Lorena Bobbit and Tonya Harding and Heidi Fleiss in a stupid "remember that?" kinda way, even though those unimaginitive late night talk show hosts like Jay Leno are STILL making jokes about them. But this commercial makes me want to watch this ridiculous show because even it has a sense of humor about how dumb making nostalgia out of things that happened 4 years ago is! At the end of the commercial someone says, "Isn't it too soon?" and Michael Ian Black says, "It's not on 'til July!" C'mon folks, that's funny.

OutKast's Roses video. I know I should be over this song by now ,and I kinda am (SEE: my earlier post about deciding to be Big Boi's biggest fan), but this video, which seems to play four times an hour during any hour that MTV actually shows videos, still gets me! Any time it is on, I have to stop flipping channels and watch this Grease-meets-West-Side-Story talent show video (and not just because I was trying to figure out if that was the Real World's Irulan in one of the yearbook pictures- it is!). I love the silly dance that the Love Below does where they shake and shimmy and act out how stinky poo is. I love the costumes, with their converse and rolled jeans and Pink Ladies gang name jackets. I love the part where "Caroline" and her girls do a mime dance of putting on makeup which ends with fluffing their hair and giving a wink. And I especially love the unintentionally hilarious move Andre does when he goes to jump off the stage to start a fight with Speakerboxxx- it's like Daniel-san's crane move meets a frog jumping off a lilly pad. I still laugh every time!

According to the Sun in the UK, Bono is planning a 20th anniversary Live Aid show. That would be fucking awesome. Yes, I hate U2. Yes, I think Bono is a self-rightous megalomaniac. Yes, this did appear in the Sun and is probably just a rumor. But omigod! LIVE FUCKING AID! I still totally remember the last one, even though I was only like 7 years old. I remember watching Madonna and Queen (I still remember them singing Somebody to Love and, in fact, I think Freddy Mercury made such a profound impact on the little-kid-me with that performance that STL is still my favorite Queen song!). I was at the pool of Jill and Leo (two friends of my parents, who are now, sadly, divorced) and their living room TV faced the window so I could watch while I swam. And when Madonna, who was my IDOL at 7, took the stage I ran inside dripping wet to watch her performance and dance and wiggle along with her performance of Like a Virgin. I also remember being really proud that the US part of the concert was taking place in Philly. I remember wishing that my dad would take me down to JFK Stadium (which is now no more) so I could see Madge in person. Philly actually seemed like center of the world that day, instead of just some half-baked city in between the nation's capital and it's biggest city that I couldn't wait to escape from.

I finally bought Lollapalooza tickets and the Pixies are headlining the second night!! Woo hoo!! Pixies reunion show. I might pee my pants. I am just so excited to get to see them live since they have always been broken up to me. Speaking of.....the one person who wrote me a comment that wasn't Beth (it was so exciting! It's like I have an actual reader!) mentioned that what makes Surfer Rosa great is that it stand the test of time and that 15 years later it still sounds new and relevant. I couldn't agree more. And while I'm not trying to romanticize the past, as my anonymous poster acused, or say that music is shit now and used to be great, I just simply am thrilled to get to experience a little bit of what I feel I missed out on before. I know reunion tours are kinda cheesy and sad, but to me this isn't a reunion tour. It is the first time I'm gonna get to hear these songs played live and not on my ipod or on some jukebox somewhere. And I'm unappologetically stoked!

The Thermals. I know I have a whole post below all about their show and their albums and how great I think these Portland punks are, but I couldn't resist another mention. While I'm beating a dead horse, I'm also counting the days (15 to go!) until the Killers album is released. I already bought the little ep on itunes!! I love these fucking bands. Do yourself a favor and check them out. The Thermals are gonna play the Voice's Siren Fest (along with Death Cab and Mission of Burma and TV on the Radio!!) so, you should brave what is always one of the hottest days of the summer and have some overpriced beer and ride the Cyclone and see what I'm talking about! I promise I'm not wrong.

LOSERS:

Beyonce. Yes, she's hot. Yes, she can sing. Yes, Crazy in Love was a killer track. But her newest single, Naughty Girl, SUCKS. When the video comes on MTV I am filled with rage. There is no melody and the only hook is the one that she totally stole from Donna Summers. Her dancing also looks really weird and uncomfortable and unnatural. She is all herky-jerky and, though there is nothing I like about him, she can't keep up with Usher on the dance floor. He looks smooth and natural and, in comparison, she looks awkward and spastic. Plus, I am so annoyed at the hypocrasy of her sexiness. I got no problem with scantily clad women in videos, but I think there is something so wrong about giving lip service to "Loving the Lord" and performing at Bush's inaugeration and then writhing around, wet in a champagne glass while faking orgasms in a slutty costume your mom designed. Am I wrong people?

Dannon Frusion Smoothies. I admit, I haven't tried one. I don't drink beverages that are milky. I hate milk. I hate Dannon Frusion Smothies based solely on their commercial. You know the one where people trade in their breakfast bagels and donuts for a smoothie.... Well, at the end the pitch guy sings "Trade in your breakfast for that Dannon Frusion Smoothie." And, I swear to God, it the catchiest freaking melody ever. I spent all day yesterday looking at apartments in Williamsburg while singing it under my breath. I couldn't get rid of it. It is the worst earworm yet. And it isn't even a song!!

Punk'd. Don't get me wrong, no one likes to watch celebrities cry more than me. It was hillarious when Timberlake openly wept about his IRS problems and I did take perverse joy in watching Brandy blubber, "I'm a celebrity! I've got millions of dollars, I don't need to steal anything!" But it was kinda disturbing to watch the most recent "COPS" episode. If you are gonna sic the LAPD on some celebrity's ass, why did it have to be all black celebrities? You know they live in fear of the LAPD anyway! You know Mekhi Phifer probably gets shit all the time being young and black and driving a nice car in a place like LA, why do you have to make his worst nightmare come true? White dudes like Ashton (who, PS, is looking like he has a drug problem, all ADD and chain smoking during Punk'd) have no idea how a young, rich black guy must feel every time he gets pulled over and he totally exploited that.

The Day After Tomorrow. I'm know I'm not the first person to say this, but shit, do we really need another movie where we witness the destruction of New York? I know summer blockbusters are all about action and popcorn and effects, but I want no part of a movie that submerges the Statue of Liberty and shows the chaos of people running in the streets. If I want escapism in my summer movies, I'll take the fantasy of an unrealistic romantic comedy over the realism of some action movie that, at times, looks like documentary footage of the destruction of my city. Thanks but my hard-earned 10.50 would rather go to Saved! (which was great) or- dare I say it- Raising Helen (hey, I'm sure it sucks, but at least it's harmless and not about the end of New York City).

American Idol. Apparantly they chose a winner this week. Don't care who they picked. Don't care who lost. I only bothered to tune in to watch Quentin Tarrantino guest judge. I would respect this show a lot more if they just called it what it is: the National Karoake Championships. These people couldn't interpret a song if their lives depended on it (like when Andy played the bone piano in the Goonies). They are all screaming and melisma and painful belting. Congrats, you can sing well enough to win karaoke night at the local TGI Fridays- that doesn't mean that I deserve to be subjected to your album and your videos and your interviews on Letterman. I mean, this is a show that gave us both Ruben "Sorry 2004" Studdard and Clay "how long til the butt/gerbil rumors start" Aiken in one year! Haven't we suffered enough?!

On a totally separate, non-bitchy note, I went dancing last night at Don Hills for the Trash party (where I promptly got-what else?- trashed!) and it was like a set list off of my own ipod: Franz Ferdinand, Blur, the Clash, OutKast.... I danced with abandon- AKA: was so drunk that I didn't care how dumb I looked- and I think the high point of the night was when Shaya tried to get me to join Beth outside for a smoke and I actually spoke these words: "We can't go now! I don't wanna miss 'Faith'!" Goddamn, George Michael! I haven't loved that song so much since middle school. I shook my ass like I was wearing bleached jeans. I haven't had that much fun in a long time.

Hardly Art, Hardly Starving (the thermals)

Despite my well-documented obsession with New York City, it has been my dream for about 4 years to run away to Portland, Oregon. It has perfect weather for me (rainy, cool, not 100 degrees in the subway in August) and I suspect that I would sweat a lot less there. It seems very progressive and full of adorable, skinny indie rock boys in thirft store attire (though I'm sure that they would ignore me there too, in favor of the tiny, Asian girls those sorts of boys seem to love having on their arm). And now I have a new reason to move to this idealized city that I've never been to (though, in my defense, I've been to and LOVED San Francisco and Seattle and I imagine it as a rock and roll combination of the two)- THE THERMALS!!

I have my amazing ex-boss to thank for turning me to these guys (actually two guys and a girl!). She gave me their new album, Fucking A, and since I couldn't stop playing it over and over and over in my ipod I dragged Shaya out to Williamsburg (possibly my new home thanks to burgoning rents at my place on the LES- but that is another story for another post that rails against real estate in this city and how sad it is that I'm still kinda jobless and in less than 30 days I'll be homeless too!) for their show at Northsix. The first amazing surprise of the night was the fabulous opening band, The Natural History. They look like collegiate, Pavement wannabees, but they have the disco-cymbal heavy drumming of Wire or Gang of Four with Elvis Costello melodies. Plus the voice of the lead singer, Max Tepper, is a dead ringer from Costello's. (I should probably mention here that after their show when Max tried to cut in line in front of Shaya and turned to appologize- I had to go all Fanatic on his ass, saying, "Thanks for the great show. You guys are excellent." He seemed to appreciate it though and at least it wasn't like the embarrassing Ronnie-from-the-Killers incident from January where I couldn't shut my mouth. See that post for details. Note: Why is Shaya always there on the few occasions where I decide to approach musicians that I admire?) Anyway, do yourself a favor and get Beat Beat Hearbeat.

Then the Thermals went on. And, if I thought that I loved their album, their live show totally put it to shame. I mean, hype aside (I know that they are one of those bands that were together for like two seconds before being signed to Sub Pop thanks to OC perennial fave, Ben Gibbard) they just rock. Their songs have drive and use lyrical repetition to spur on the urgency of their punk. the lead singer, Hutch Harris (who, by the by, played drums on the Minders album Golden Street, which Seth got me hooked on last summer!) is the kemmer baby of Stephen Malkmus and Julian Casablancas- gorgeous, kinda wounded and emo looking with that fierce punk whine that, in most other bands, annoys the shit out of me, but in the Thermals just makes their lo-fi bombast sweeter. Plus it was extra-adorable when some dude in the audience yelled out that Kathy, the bitchin' chic bassist who had-hands down- the coolest afro I've ever seen, was hot, Hutch flipped him off and then smiled and said, "Yeah, she is hot." I totally wish I was a chic bassist. Oh, and let's not leave out the drummer, Jordan Hudson. His kit has like a 5:3 ratio in favor of cymbals! And the cymbals are hung really high so he has drum with his arms over his head- flailing like he's drowning. I know this sounds like he is having a seisure but it was the coolest thing!

All the Williamsburg kids are, of course, too cool to dance. But Shaya and I were too drunk to care. I probably made Jordan look graceful by comparison. But I didn't gave a damn! The band (and Shaya and I) were drenched in sweat by the end of the show. Maybe that is why the hipster jack offs don't dance- sweat really fucks up a perfectly coiffed pompador or faux-hawk and expensive vintage ruins easily!

Needless to say, I ran the next day to buy the Thermals first album (which the freakin' Virgin Megastore was out of, so I just bought their first EP) while on my way to see Saved. You should do the same.

PS: Saved was great. I'm sure you can read reviews of the film elsewhere so I'll just say that Macauley Culkin has gotten hot, Eva Emuri has the best tits every- I totally wish I was her- and Mandy Moore was really good. I think she actually has an acting career ahead of her. Oh yeah, and the movie features a duet between Mandy and Michael Stipe on God Only Knows. It's kinda weird and a little too "DANCE MIX" but anything with Stipe's cool, pinched nasal style is ok by me. He is the only person who could convince me to like a Dashboard Confessional song. (That would be Hands Down, the song that Stipe dueted with DC on during their MTV2 album covers show at Arlene Grocery. Buy it on itunes. Seriously, it's good! Oh yeah, and if you watch the show rerun on MTV2, apparantly you can see me as Michael Stipe walks up from behind me to get onstage.)

I'll post more later, but I've got to actually leave the apartment for the first time today- tearing myself away from the What Not To Wear marathon on TLC- to get some food and money and soda. A girl's gotta refuel- even if it is only so I can come home and watch the Real World/Road Rules Challenge REUNION!!

California here we come, right back where we started from

(I know it's like a vomitorium up in this piece- I don't write for weeks and now I have four posts in 24 hours!)


You are SETH'S SPAZZY HANDS.


What Quirk From THE OC Are You?
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Thanks to Shaya for the link. I know she was hoping to be Sandy's eyebrows, but I really wanted to either be Summer's Boobs or Anna's Jaunty Cap. Please, if one of you out there gets Ryan's Dopey Chocker, please write me! That would be awesome!

I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through- Joy Division

I just realized, after that last, long-ass post that name checked Joy Division like 10 times that today is actually the 24th anniversary of Ian Curtis' suicide. Weird. I don't write for a month and I get all inspired to ramble about Ian Curtis and Joy Division on the exact day he died. Sad.

TALKING 'BOUT MY G-G-G-GENERATION

(NOTE: The new, pinker site now allows for comments. So please feel free to post. It'll be interesting to see if anyone is even reading this fucker. And, this is especially for Beth, feel free to troll. I can take it!)

-I can't believe I worked this site up into a frenzy over the Morrissey show and then never wrote to report back. What a case of blue balls I have left you all with!! The show was amazing. The songs from the new album (which, though it came out last Tuesday, my broke ass has still yet to purchase.) are great and really show off his voice, which gets better with each passing year. It is totally unfair that woman who are beautiful and talented (women like Debbie Harry and Stevie Nicks) only get less so as they get older and men, like Moz, really grow into their looks and their voice. He is sexier and his rich croon is deeper and more confident than ever. Now, despite the fact that I just invited everyone to test out the new comment feature, please don't write in and tell me that I'm a sexist. No one is more of a feminist than I- and I've got the 12 year all-girl education to prove it- but the proof is in the pudding. Stevie, Debbie, Joni, Ricki Lee, Joan..... they all sound worse and look worse (and frankly haven't put out an album that moved me like their early stuff) recently. I mean Debbie Harry was my fucking idol. I wanted to grow up and be her- but now she looks like she's had too much plastic surgery. And Stevie? She can't even hit those not so high notes in Landslide anymore. But Moz sang "Hand in Glove" like I imagine it would've sounded when he came to NY with the Smiths in 1986- not that I would know (I was too busy being in third grade!). And, though he was always handsome, he really has grown into his manly face and his skinny, cardigin-clad body has filled out into the man that he has become. Even the few distinguished gray hairs in his pompadour look good. There are no words for what it is like to be sitting in the second row of the balcony (which basically puts you right on stage, all the way to the right) and seeing him, in the flesh, as he moves theatrically around the stage and plucks melodies like "Hairdresser on Fire" and "Everyday is Like Sunday" out of the ether with ease. It was a very low key show - what, with the totalitarian staff of the Apollo who wouldn't let anyone stand up or dance or rush the stage- which kinda made me wish that I had been born earlier and could have seen the madness of those early Smiths shows. Witnessed the special electricity between Johnny and "Steven". Heard songs like "Vicar in a Tutu" played live over a screaming throng of young dudes in pompadours and cardigans who threw gladiolas on the stage.

But, alas, I think that is the burden of our generation. Too young for the Smiths first hand. Too young to discover the greatest bands (Smiths, Joy Division, the Pixies, the Clash, the Cure, David Bowie) of our lifetime on their debut albums. Too young for New York when it was sleazy and real and kinda scary and you could see Television and the Talking Heads down at CBGBs instead of some terrible hardcore band. Too young for Studio 54 or Max's Kansas City or the Mudd Club or the Mercer Arts Center. Way too young for Woodstock or Monterey Pop or student protests at Berkeley and Madison. Jimi Hendrix will never be anything but a psychadelic dude on a black light poster for us. The Velvet Underground and Led Zeppelin and the Beatles were never live bands for us. Ian Curtis and John Lennon and Janis Joplin and Brian Jones (you mean there were a Rolling Stones before Ron Wood?) have always been dead to us. Pink Floyd (who I don't even like) are just a band to play at a laser show or to listen to while 'shrooming and watching the Wizard of Oz.

There are good things about being part of our generation. We never had to think that Eagles or Foreigner or Kansas or Ted Nugent any of those other sucky Seventies bands were new or groundbreaking or good. We can just change the radio from the classic rock station when they come on. We had Kurt all to ourselves- he was our discovery. We had Beck (even though he is a Scientologist) and his musical experiments. We were there for the birth of brit pop and were able to discover bands like Blur and Pulp and Oasis on their first albums and love them enough to develop a severe case of Anglophilia and dream about having babies with little British accents. Big huge musical personalities like Courtney Love and Billy Corgan and Radiohead and Elliott Smith are ours alone- touchstones for our generation. If I liked rap more, I would be stoked that hip hop is pracically as old as we are. We grew up with it always. As far as I can remember there has always been LL Cool J and Grandmaster Flash and Run DMC and the Beastie Boys. We are lucky, especially us little girls, to have come of age with Madonna. I was singing "Like A Virgin" before I knew what it meant and, to me, it's always been alright for a girl to be stong and sexy and controversial (even if she couldn't really sing!)

I think I'd trade a million Justin Timberlakes and Beyonces and maybe even Jay-Zs just to be in the audience for the Beatles on Ed Sullivan or to wait in line for tickets all night to see Zeppelin at MSG or to be one of those disappointed ticket holders who didn't get to see Joy Division's US tour because of Ian's death or to have seen Ziggy Stardust live or Blondie at CBGBs or Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire live or to not have bought "Rumours" as a CD reissue or "Revolver" or "London Calling" or "Never Mind the Bollocks". Or to have seen the Smiths live when they were still together. But as a consolation prize, Moz at the Apollo was pretty bitchin.

Pretty in Pink

Hey, the site has had a bit of a makeover! I hope- despite the fact that I haven't updated in almost a MONTH- that I still have some readers left to notice my neat little new blog template. Otherwise, she's all dressed up with no place to go. You'll notice some changes- the biggest of which is that, somehow in changing my template, I lost all of my links. And since I'm computer retarded I don't know how to use HTML well enough to recreate them. So....as a service to my two loyal readers, please enjoy this list of sites that I visit daily (hourly, whatever):

brodotype.blogspot.com
shaya_in_new_york.blogspot.com
iheartschip.blogspot.com
www.jenniferernst.com/blog
www.gawker.com
www.flavorpill.com
www.spin.com
www.villagevoice.com
www.rollingstone.com (especially the bimonthly "well hung at dawn" column maintained by my old collegue- michael krugman!)
www.nme.com
www.pitchforkmedia.com
www.popmatters.com

Now, go forth and procrastinate......