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!!