I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it....

I know I was just complaining about not liking music anymore but luckily a couple of AWESOME Cds have brought me back to life. (Well, a couple of awesome CDs and the OUTSTANDING, raucous Thermals show that I went to last week--as did David Cross!!--where their live version of "God and Country" was more powerful than anything I've ever heard a political pundit say. Plus, I plan to be Mrs. Hutch Harris sometime soon. Goddamn that man is dreamy!!)

Anyway, the first great new CD I got is the new Hot Hot Heat. Run, don’t walk to buy it when it comes out April 5th. I’d write more about it but I’m hoping to review it for work so I’ve got to save my choice turns of phrase for the writing that actually pays the bills. Suffice to say it is awash in keyboards and Steve Bays dramatic yelp. The single (“Goodnight, Goodnight”) is available on iTunes currently. GO GET IT! It is a caffeine-jittery, rhythm-shifting bitter pop gem.

Also the Death from Above 1979 album is AWESOME—heavy but druggy. And when they play Bowery Ballroom next month they are playing with controller.controller, the Canadians I’ve been yapping about for a year. (Think the fractured dance punk of Wire’s poppier stuff but fronted by Xene Cervenka.)

It pretty much goes without saying that the new Bloc Party album is great. It is nice to finally have more than 4 of their songs! I love how they manage to be political and interesting without being pedantic. Plus, frankly they could be singing garbeldy gook for all I care with the shit eating basslines and angular, disco punk. Plus, not to be the PC police, but—like TV on the Radio—they are a multi-racial band and that is so exciting to me. We need more people of color in rock music to save us from whiny white boys. After all, rock music, by definition, is a style INVENTED by people of color. Who says that the only black musicians are in rap and jazz? Or that the only Asian musicians play in symphonies. That is such bullshit. Plus, the ever-whitening world of rock is not only BORING, but it hasn’t boded well for the quality and diversity of the music. I’m just saying....

Lastly, (but certainly not least) is the MC Lars EP. All of you rock girls who were saddened by the marriage of Julian Casablancas, the ugly mustache of Jack White, or the posse of nubile teenagers that follow Conor Oberst around—Lars is your new rockstar wannabe boyfriend. Seriously. Aside from being devistatingly, slacker-y cute his EP is funniest, freshest album I’ve heard since Sesame Street Disco when I was 5. (Hey, don’t discount songs like, “Me Lost Me Cookie at the Disco,” by Cookie Monster. That song was bananas!) His seven song EP has more cute puns than Carrie Bradshaw (but is infinitely smarter) and he is not just a clever lyricist. The backing music (which, depending on the track, falls somewhere between Atom and His Package and the Faint) is totally rock/synth music (except for the one track that uses the balls-out rock sample of “Rock You Like A Hurricane) and his flow reminds me of MC Pee Pants (my most favoritist incarnation of MC Chris).
I wish I could sit here and just type out all of the lyrics to all seven songs but I am lazy, plus I’m sure that would violate some sort of copyright law. They must be heard to be believed. One track (Signing Emo) is about an A&R man trying to sign the next big thing and is interspersed with a song-within-a-song by his emo band du jour. One song is a rap boast (the aforementioned “Hurricane Fresh”) but in a totally nerdy, emo way. He says things like: “I rhyme white but so what? I like James Brown and Beyonce’s butt. Whatever your race, I’ll Friendster you and rent two Spike Lee NetFlix too.” He has another song about loving England—which, I obviously TOTALLY get—but it also reads as an appologia on Americanisms. (Though it ends with the line “The US isn’t perfect, but you don’t have to remind us.”) I especially like the opening lines: “Cops without guns and the NME. Should I watch the BBC or should I watch the BBC?” Ha ha! There is another great track about college where he actually sings a little Avril Lavigne hommage. But the stand out hit will clearly be “iGeneration” about being “more than a walking demographic.” And no, in case you were wondering, I don’t feel weird listening to a song about how we are just a generation that they sell iPods to, on my freakin’ iPod!

They don't love you like I love you.

For weeks now I've looked forward to seeing seeing that Addidas commercial. You know the one...for the sneaker that adjusts to different terrains, but it all happens in a dream. And there is this hauntingly sung, sweet song about "Whenever I wake up..." and something about taking the shape of something.
Every time it was on I had to turn to whomever I was sitting next to and say, "I fucking love this commercial. This song is so awesome." And then whomever I'm sitting with nods in agreement. I'd never heard that song before, but I loved it (even though I wasn't sure if it was an actual song or a jingle that was masquerading as a an indie rock hit).

A weird side note....as I type this that commercial JUST came on again. Synergy, huh?

Anyway, I was just talking about this commercial with people at work and saying that I wish I had a recording of the song and how the voice singing it sounds so familiar (and, I should note that my favorite game is "What famous actor is doing that commercial voice over?"). And someone said, "Oh I heard that commercial was directed by Spike Jonze." And then before someone could say it, I realized that I recognized that voice.....it's Spike's girlfriend, Karen O.

Why am I always the last to know??

Picture came and broke my heart

I love Subteranean! For those of you without digital cable--whose ranks I am joining in about 10 days--Subteranean is the best show on MTV2. It's like 120 Minutes for the new milennium--except the time is cut in half. But it is the only hour that good music videos take over tv. I am always surprised Sunday nights to see some band who I NEVER thought would have a video, debuting their clip. The host is kind of a douche and can't ask a decent interview question to save his life, but at least he seems to be an actual music fan--they are like fucking endagered species on music television.

In fact, it's kind of a shame that we can't get Much Music here because their regular playlist is teeming with artists that I love....artists that never get played on regular MTV.....artists who are lucky to get played on Subteranean on MTV2 (which, by the way, airs at midnight on Sunday). Currently the videos prominently featured on their website include Goodnight, Goodnight (Hot Hot Heat), Blood on our Hands (DFA 1979), Evil (Interpol), Galang (MIA), and the new Bright Eyes--First Day of My Life--that I caught last night on MTV2.

I can't gush enough about this video. After all, it is for my favorite song on my favorite album of the year (so far). Plus, it was directed by John Cameron Mitchell--who I freaking LOVE. (If that name doesn't sound familiar to you...or you don't recognize him from his DJing at Misshapes, perhaps you know him better as the star, writer, and director of Hedwig. He totally made out with my boyfriend Michael Pitt!) But all of that aside, I really don't think I've ever seen a video like this before. It looks like it was filmed using a bunch of friends or a hipster focus group. And the intimacy of the lyrics are heightened by watching these intimate couples hear the song for the first time. It is voyeristic (because you feel like you are privvy to private moments between these people) but it is also so quiet and personal. Watching these people listen to this song on headphones is really the best expression of the intimate lyrics. Watch it for yourself and let me know what you think. I think that camera tricks or computer animation couldn't make anything as magical.

If you're so smart, tell me why are you so afraid?

SPOILER ALERT: For those of you looking for a quick pick-me-up at work or who are just looking to read some cheerful nonsense (the sort I usually publish), you might want to skip this post. I am in a terrible mood and I can tell this is just going to be depressing.....

That said....It's been a difficult few months. I don't think I've really been the same since I was mugged; I'm afraid to leave the apartment alone. Plus, my "freelance" employment status is starting to wear on me. It would feel like an exciting adventure (hey, who am I to complain about working at home in pajamas?) if I wasn't so concerned about how poor I am and what the hell I'm supposed to do in three and a half months (not that I'm counting) when my lease is up. I can't continue to stay in New York without a permanent job (mostly because I have to move to a "safer neighborhood" and I can't afford to pay anymore rent unless I get a "real job.") and it breaks my heart to think about leaving this city. When I first moved to New York full-time in 1999, I was the most depressed I'd ever been. I was trying to find a job and find friends and get out of the TERRIBLE Wiliamsburg apartment I lived in....basically I was just trying to get my footing here. I could always look back on that time and laugh because I made it through it. It was like my NYC initiation. I was a better, stronger person for having suffered through those first horrible six months. But I now find myself in a similar predicament and I can't, for the life of me, remember how I pulled myself out of it. Things just seem really hopeless now. When I got off the plane from LA last week, I burst into tears. Not because I was happy to be home (which would be my usual reaction on returning from LALA land) or even because I had such a good time that I didn't want my vacation to be over. No, I cried because I realized that I didn't belong anywhere anymore. I don't belong in LA where I'd be totally starting over--having to make friends and find a job and find my footing. And I don't belong here anymore because I'm too afraid to leave my house and too broke to do much else. I feel like New York and I are breaking up and, truth be told, this is worst breakup I've ever endured--mostly because I've never loved another human being like I've loved this city.

I really realized that I must be super-depressed when I was on a train coming home from Philadelphia this afternoon, trying to enjoy my ipod and I just couldn't. Usually, no matter how sad or worried I am about something, I can enjoy music. Hell, sometimes nothing feels as good to me as a nice "WALLOWING"--you know, playing deliberately sad songs when you feel terrible. It's like pressing on a bruise--weirdly reassuring that you can still feel pain and that you are in control of the intensity of that pain. But now, I can't even wallow. My favorite sad songs hurt my ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. The last time I felt like this was when I first moved to New York (as mentioned above). I couldn't tell you what albums came out in the fall of 1999 because I didn't buy any of them. I vaguely remember my roommates at the time blasting a lot of Blink-182 (like "What's My Age Again?") but even that memory is slightly murky. I mean, I wasn't a Blink 182 fan. It was just background music to my misery and it was weirdly disconnected from me. Now I feel oddly relieved when Kelly Clarkson comes on the radio because it so benign. I've tried bringing out my favorite records but all of them either leave me feeling so numb that I feel sad that I can't feel anything about them or they remind me of other times when I was happier or more settled and that makes me sad too. For instance: Rilo Kiley just sounds like September to me--like the possibility of fall and hot streets giving way to the first cool evenings and the windows of my apartment being open and breezes blowing through the living room and late nights out drinking and forgetting a sweater. The Killers sound like excited nights spent sweating in prom attire at LES clubs and Jen still living here and the anticipation of their album actually getting released and even the dank room at Don Hill's when I was just discovering them two years ago. The Thermals sound like the first days of spring last year and wondering around Williamsburg with Shaya on the first night it was appropriate to wear a skirt without tights and drinking all day at the Siren Festival and waiting for election results in November. Even Hot Hot Heat (whose concert I enjoyed so much last week) sounds like the hottest 4th of July two years ago and melted tar on my flip flops and being excited about spotting Ryan Adams on the street and Jen's potato salad and boys doing coke in an apartment near Union Square and Coney Island where I got hit on the head by soccer ball and got whiplash on the Cyclone.

So I'm reduced to listing to songs that don't mean anything to me: old Elton John (like "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues") or Billy Joel (like "Vienna" and other songs from "The Stranger"--not his more recent stuff, c'mon I still have SOME taste!) or even the recent Modest Mouse singles ("Float On" and "Ocean Breathes Salty," neither of which I love but, compared to their older albums, they are totally benign to me as they are barren of memories or feelings to me) and old Jackson 5 (because "I Want You Back" is such bubblegum fun that you can't help but tap your feet.). I hate not being able to FEEL anything about music and I hate being so pained by music that I love so much. I've got to get things right for myself , if for no other reason, than so I can actually listen to my ipod again without feeling a hole inside my chest. I'll say this though....I have newfound respect for Billy Joel. I've made a lot of fun of him (and in my defense, he's put out a SHITLOAD of terrible music) but "Vienna" is actually a great song. Take away my "rock writer cred" card, if you must, but I stand by that. There are very few songs written about the hurry children are in to grow up and the fear of adolescence and the pressure that people put on themselves to succeed or be somewhere or something they aren't. For those of you that are doubters, think I've lost my mind and any sense of good taste, and only know fucking "Piano Man" -- here are the lyrics. Pretend they weren't written by Billy (tell yourself this is a Bright Eyes song or something if you must) and tell me that this doesn't move you a little bit and you yourself haven't wished for this kind of advice in your life:

Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell me why
You are still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

Slow down you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be
Before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight
Too bad but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself
That you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong
You know you can't always see when you're right

You got your passion you got your pride
But don't you know only fools are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you

Slow down you crazy child
Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while
It's alright you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.

But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
Why don't you realize...Vienna waits for you
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

Alright....so not the "coolest" sentiment I've ever expressed, but it's true: This is a good song.

I can breathe for the first time.....

Well another month....another MONTH without updating. I'm frankly surprised that anyone even bothers to read this anymore--let alone comment (thanks, Betsy, if I decide that I'm moving to LA this summer, you're gonna be my first new friend!). I think they are mostly obsessive Brandon Flowers stalkers--or at least that is what blogpatrol tells me people are here for.
Believe me beloved blog, I've thought of posting often....That one night I went for cupcakes randomly at Magnolia and waited in a huge line out the door behind three of the most despicable examples of Upper East Side women (with expensive highlights, FUR bomber jackets, $200 jeans, and high high high heels), I really wanted to log on just to transcribe their conversation. (Example: Disgusting Brunette: I really want to get a dog. Disgusting Blond: Yeah, but you're never home. DBr: Yeah, but I was thinking King Charles Spaniel. DBl: OOOOOOH! Charlotte! --at this point I wanted to die because I recognized the Sex and the City reference--DBr: I know! But I heard this guy breeds teacup King Charles Spaniels. Dbl: What's a teacup. Dbr: You know, like, little. I could dress it up and put it in my bag and take it to Bergdorfs.--Then these women proceeded to buy one cupcake to share, eat all of the pink icing off the top and throw out the cake!)
After the dissapointing Grammy's I thought I'd log on, (even though I didn't even get to watch them--though I can't for the life of me remember why!) if for no other reason than to be the spoilsport who decrys Ray Charles winning in every catagory. Dude, if I die next year, do I get to sweep the Grammys AND the Oscars. Plus, the last thing Alicia Keys needs is 4 more Grammys. Bitch has 9 now! Plus, I don't think she needs the encouragement. Every time she wins an award, she puts out a song that is worse than the last one. I swear, "My Boo" has reached new levels of suckyness for me.
I wanted to write when I went to LA and for the first time ever didn't spend the whole trip plotting my escape. In fact, I'm now seriously considering a move. Now, before you log on to comment that I'm a sell-out, just remember I'm only CONSIDERING it. But it would be nice to not be frozen. And to not kill myself to pay rent every month. I think I just need a change of pace. Anyway, there were many blog-worthy events from my time in Cali (none of which include the snoozefest that was this year's Oscars btw....."Million Dollar Baby" is going down in Rebecca History as another Oscar-winning movie everyone loves that I refuse to see. MDB, meet "Dances With Wolves" and "Unforgiven"--your names will be forever linked in conversation for me when people say, "Oh did you see..." and I have to explain that I hate boxing movies. And movies about people from trailor parks over coming the odds. And Clint Eastwood. ) I had some good celebrity sightings....Amy Poehler on the plane out there. Nick Oliveiri. Cameron and Justin on the 101 in a hot car. Enjoyed some magnificent weather (I hate to rub it in but my pale ass even got a sunburn in Palm Springs....which has totally dissappeared in the winter wonderland that has been this week in NYC) Plus, I'd like to say that for a city with the skinniest bitches on the planet, the pancakes in LA (and yeah, I ate them almost EVERYDAY) might be the best in the world. Though I still wonder what would possess someone to wear a midriff-bearing top and a cowboy hat public (this was not an isolated event, I might add).
What finally got me off my ass (or onto it, as the case may be) to write.... Two things. The first was the amazing Hot Hot Heat show last night. Yeah, the sound wasn't perfect and it was kind of full of mistakes, but that is what made it great. It was sloppy and raucous and the new songs sounded great. Plus, might I ask, how can a short dude with an afro and a flowy scarf possibly be so goddamn sexy?! It was a great night too because I ran into all of my old Atlantic cronies and even a friend that I hadn't seen since I was 16 and on a tour of Israel (that last statement makes me sound way more Jewish and JAP-y than I actually am, I swear!) What a small fucking world!
The second thing worth blogging about? Well, I had to call your attention to this: It's Ted Leo singing Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone" and, not only does he actually manage to make the song sound cool, but he totally calls out whoever wrote this song for the American Idol as ripping off "Maps" in the bridge!