THE MORE I KNOW, THE LESS I UNDERSTAND

Two thousand hate, coming to a close. Thank fucking goodness. I've learned a lot this year, not limited to the following:

1. The difference between anxiety and depression is the difference between blaming loss on others versus oneself. (Law & Order)

2. Drinking gives you an excuse to do something you wouldn't want to believe you would normally do. (New York Magazine)

3. The double grief of a lost bliss is to recall its happy hour in pain. (The Inferno)

4. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion, it is easy in solitude after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. (Self-Reliance)

5. Antonio Banderas has his own cologne. Named Blue Seduction. I mean.... what?

In the music department, I've found solace in lyrics of 3 Doors Down, Gin Blossoms, Don Henley, the Platters. No irony, just a series of loaded away messages. I've also discovered that Trent Reznor has written a song to suit every state of my mind.

VH1 Classic owns my life. Seriously. It does what music is meant to do. It makes me fucking smile. Like, full on ecstatic grin smile. Some of the metal featured in the metal block is insanely bad, but the passion it instills in people - like, par example, my fave dudes from That Metal Show (please, someone, take me to a bar they're at, stat) - passion that elates and entertains and excites and.... I just love it. Cheesy metal makes me happy. Not to mention the amazing nostalgia I experience watching the 90s blocks they've got on 120 Minutes. Bush back to back with Pearl Jam back to back with Garbage. It takes me to my teenage years when my love for music was pure and untainted by work-related ulterior motive.

In other news, Leigh totally took my Sparks-ad-bodega-challenge and one-effing-upped me today:



Also, this movie exists:



My mind is fully blown. Take a seat, Twilight. Four new year resolutions in the film department:
1. Lobby for the DVD release of Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!
2. Ditto for The Decline of Western Civilization Part II
3. Get around to buying High School on DVD now that it finally exists
4. Fix my fucking DVD player.

And, finally, the tracklistings from the niece mixes, "PAST" and "PRESENT":

PAST

Tangerine - Led Zeppelin
Pets - Porno For Pyros
Road to Nowhere - Talking Heads
Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie
I Wanna Be Adored - Stone Roses
That's Entertainment - The Jam
(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais - The Clash
Stand & Deliver - Adam & The Ants
Don't Change - INXS
She's Lost Control - Joy Division
Fascination Street - The Cure
Cuts You Up - Peter Murphy
Bring on the Dancing Horses - Echo & The Bunnymen
Hong Kong Garden - Siouxsie & The Banshees
Six Underground - Sneaker Pimps
Would? - Alice in Chains
Head Like a Hole - Nine Inch Nails
1979 - Smashing Pumpkins
Midlife Crisis - Faith No More

PRESENT

Closer - Kings of Leon
Lucky You - Lostprophets
Right Where It Belongs - Nine Inch Nails
Dawn of the Dead - Does It Offend You, Yeah?
Love is Blind - Haunts
The Beginning of the Twist - The Futureheads
After Hours - We Are Scientists
Kids - MGMT
L.E.S. Artistes - Santogold
My Little Brother - Art Brut
Back of the Van - Ladyhawke
Art is Hard - Cursive
We've Been Had - The Walkmen
Geraldine - Glasvegas
Pioneer to the Falls - Interpol
Surfing on a Rocket - Air
The Funeral - Band of Horses
Foundations - Kate Nash
The Plot - White Rabbits

WHEN YOUR SPARKLE EVADES YOUR SOUL


What's that, you ask? That's Leigh's snowman. It snowed today in New York, and for those lucky enough to have windowsills full of the stuff it led to some serious crafting. Rotting orange pepper nose? Check. Bobby pin arms? Check. Dog food eyes? Check. Dog poop bag scarf? Yup. Offish the most urban snowman evs. Sadly, snow doesn't gather on my windowsill, so I was left chillin' with my own version of a cool lil urban dude:


Sigh. Anyway. Went to see CSS at Webster Hall last night. My friend Jon has been drumming for them for about a year now and I've managed to miss every gig he's played (including but not limited to Wednesday night). Here are some things I learned at the gig:

1. Gurj and I should never be introduced to Brazilians (please see: "Oh, you're Brazilian? I've never been, but I've got one.")

2. I should never talk to Keith Murray about male anatomy and tattoos in the same breath (reference: "I wonder what it would look like if someone got it done to look like an asparagus spear.")

3. The CSS post-gig DJ set is suspiciously similar to that which the Scientists provided at my bday party two years ago (ie: Technotronic, Destiny's Child, and umm... Rupaul?)

4. Crew dudes set new standards for lewd commentary (please forget: "That thing has seen some use. I swear it was winking at me.")

5. I need a new camera. My photos are so hit or miss, and there was a nubile young lad in tights flashing his bottom at us all during the encore. My attempt to document it was a massive fail. Here's some pics. Hannukah starts Sunday.

YOU CALL ME STRONG, YOU CALL ME WEAK, BUT STILL YOUR SECRETS I WILL KEEP

So, my day started out happily enough... went for the requisite walk (listening to my iPod on shuffle for probably the second time ever - I'm into it)... and then Leigh IMed me. Wanting to know if I had seen the news. Ladies and gentlemen, it's the end of an era.

If you're too lazy to clink a link, let me enlighten - SPARKS IS DEAD. Not the band, the beverage. As in the source of at least 80% of mistakes made between 2003-2006. I can't really tell you the last time I drank Sparks. My most recent memory involves Eddie Argos drinking about seven cans at SXSW because he thought it was beer and then nearly dying. But that said, it was very much my jam back in the day. So much so that my 23rd birthday (in 2004) was celebrated at Misshapes with friends and various four-packs (because yes, the creators of Sparks were savvy enough to know that a sixer was lethal).

Ah, the memories....





Brian was kind enough to provide the personal four-pack. There we were (we being Brian, Sarah and myself) posing with the present of all presents. That last pic begat a funny story. At the time, I was very much a blogger. And obviously posted the pics from my birthday on this site. Someone at Rolling Stone was a fan, and when they started putting together their "Hot List" for 2005, Sparks was chosen as the "It" beverage. So an editor reached out and asked if they could run the above photo in the magazine. I said duh! But then they realized that Sarah worked at Spin (at the time) and that they couldn't put her in the competing mag. So Brian went to work with his amazing photoshop skills and.... voila!


No more Sarahface! But no, that wasn't good enough said Rolling Stone. And so, they went with another photo, and our love of Sparks was immortalized as this:


And that piece of work was plastered on every fucking bodega in New York City for like, a year. Yeah, proud times.

Speaking of bodegas, Leigh and I recently discovered a mutual appreciation for really shit supermarkets. Or I guess, I dunno if appreciation is the word. Well, maybe it is.

Me: Dude, have you ever been in that Key Foods on Ave A? I went for the first time recently to get a bottle of water and it was a fucking adventure.
Leigh: I used to go there all the time before Whole Foods opened up. I had to! There were no other grocery stores close by.
Me: OMG, that's true. I didn't think of that. What the hell do people do?
Leigh: Whole Foods kinda saved my life.
Me: Yeah literally, I think someone got stabbed at Key Foods!
Leigh: Even worse was Fine Fair.
Me: What the hell is THAT?
Leigh: That is some ghetto ass shit right there. On Ave C.
Me: Oh I haven't been.
Leigh: Oh you needn't go.
Me: But I love seeing different supermarkets! I kinda love supermarkets.
Leigh: Then by all means, next time you're at Sarah's, stop by.
Me: I actually know which one you mean now.
Leigh: It's the most disgusting place I've ever been to in my life. But when I lived on Pitt street I HAD to go there as well. Have you ever been to Met Foods?
Me: Hmmmm no, but I feel like I've seen it. Where is it?
Leigh: 2nd Ave and 6th.
Me: OMG I thought that shit was abandoned.
Leigh: No way it's fully operational. However I'm not sure why. Or how.
Me: Hahahahahahahah
Leigh: They just got credit card machines. Like, last year.
Me: My old favorite was this place called UFM - University Food Market up by Columbia. I wonder if it existed when Max was there. It's not there anymore. It's now Morton Williams and all fancy, but back in the day you literally couldn't buy like, eggs, when you wanted. They would have like, a loaf of bread one week, and then maybe a bagel the next. It was really exciting for stoners.
Leigh: I'm talking to Ryan about Fine Fair now. It smells like the inside of a meat locker in there. And he just informed me that some girl got stabbed at Key Foods last year.
Me: Yes I told you that already spazz. A check out lady. It was some unrequited love shit. I'm surprised the story hasn't turned up in a Law & Order episode yet, actually.

Annnnnnd..... scene. Seriously though, what is it about supermarkets that make them so fascinating? They're total microcosms of life, I guess. Symbolic of their surroundings. I remember being so touched when a boyfriend told me he'd spent the afternoon walking the aisles of my local Food Emporium, imagining what it would be like in the future when he would be on grocery duty for the two of us. And I also remember making the trek up to the massive uptown Fairway with Anna once and telling her that being there made me want to cook for my imaginary husband and three kids. I think I may be officially bonkers.

IS IT HONEY? IS IT COLD?

It's getting to that time of year again - the time of wheat/chaff separation in every sense of the metaphor. All the NY transplants start filtering out and us natives are left to play with one another (with the help of some Brit imports, of course) (and oh yes, Ollie Stone). The key phrase is "getting to," though, for at the moment we're knee-deep in office holiday party season.

Sarah had hers last week, and as was to be expected, it kicked off a night of questionable decision making. I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to make it at first. The rain/wind was b-a-n-a-nanners and an old Agency co-worker was due to pick me up for their party just after Sarah's start time. Thanks to a little bullying from the big PA, I went anyway. Good thing? Good thing. I don't even know what I drank, but it had "basil" and "martini" in the title. I think. PA and his buddy and I got into an extensive talk about Scotland (go figure) which I promptly redirected to the subject of Duran Duran. You see, D-squared played Atlantic City this past Saturday night, and anyone who spoke to me this summer knows I love me some D-squared (the band, not the label). Particularly when it comes with the promise of an appearance by my future ex-boyfriend (read this blog, you'll know who I mean). I mean come on - Duran Duran, Atlantic City, and a stud with anger-management issues? It was heaven on paper. Unfortunately, said paper wasn't made of gold dubloons and thus I realized it was in my best interest not to make the trip. Sad. Hopefully PA shouted something inappropriate at Le Bon on my behalf. Preferably during Planet Earth.

Saturday wasn't a lost cause though. Brunch Crue was in effect, though our half of the table shamefully allowed conversation to deteriorate into definition of internet terms. And I'm not talking "LOL" and "WTF." We actually pop-quizzed on the meanings of FTP... HTML... and HTTP. (I lost all cred when declaring the latter stands for "hot-t-t poo"). Guys, its now getting super sad. After brunch, Gurj and Quinn and I decided to go movie hunting. There are about four decent theaters in a five block radius in our hood, so we did a lil lap. And somehow, inexplicably, landed on seeing The Alphabet Killer. Starring none other than the Barnard crew's favorite nemesis - Eliza Dushku. And it should be noted that the queen of the crooked look is an associate producer of said flick. How to explain the injustice without spoiling the plot? (HA!) Let's just say the big selling point (both in reviews and from the guy in the ticket booth) is the flashing of Dushku's tit. Which is essentially a non-event. A blink and you miss it moment. DAMNUDUSHKU. Now all I need to see is a space odyssey starring Leelee Sobieski and my mind will be fully blown back to college daze.

Another thing about this time of year is that it brings my oldest niece's birthday. With the advent of Facebook and Myspace, I've gotten to know her a lot better. She's a total music chick and I love it. See, our family couldn't be any further from the music world. When I was a kid, car trips were soundtracked with showtunes and Israeli folk singers. The one exception was this tape my mom had called The Best of '60s Mellow which I ended up replacing out of personal necessity when the original was stolen (ah, 1990s car thefts. Wherefore art thou NYC?). Anyway, point is, I never had the luxury of parents or older siblings to teach me about good music. And lord knows NY radio left a lot to be desired (which would explain my early love of say, Counting Crows and Bush). Last year, I noticed my nieces talking about bands, non-stop. They love music, going to gigs, updating their Facebook statuses with lyrics. Unfortunately, their love is being directed by the current state of affairs on music television. As in, taste level is pretty crap. And I made a point of telling them so. Subsequently, I decided to make it a mission to teach them about better music - both past and present.

It started on last year's birthday. The oldest turned 17. I bought her Depeche Mode's greatest hits, Pixies greatest hits, and The Bends, then made an Idlewild mix and a collection of my (then) favorite bands (think Interpol, Bloc Party, We Are Scientists, the Cure, the Smiths, Hole). My intention was to show her what inspired her favorite artists. Great success, her taste started shifting, but now I'm faced with the bigger challenge. She just turned 18. And she's going to college next year. What's the next logical music step? I'm working on two mixes - one of past greats and one of present. I will update ASAP with the tracklistings, but for now, suggestions are much appreciated.

Because here's the dilemma. Do I train her for indie nerd triathalon and include shit like Built to Spill and Pavement? Or do I stick to what I think is more suited to her current tastes, like Bowie, Joy Division and Nine Inch Nails? And like, where do bands like The Clash or Faith No More and Alice in Chains fit in? Is an 18 year old girl from the tri-state area ready for them? Decisions, decisions....

SAVE SOME SPACE IN YOUR MIND

The contents of my fridge/freezer at the mo:

Becks Light
3248932 varieties of mustard
Nando's hot sauce
ice packs (???)
faux leather leggings (yes)

I should explain, if only to diffuse Imran's desire to tell people that I live like a frat dude. I'm curious to know if I'm the only work-from-home-r who plays with this philosophy - but keeping loads of food in the house is dangerous. It's equivalent to holiday season in pre-recession offices when you got showered with frivolous gifts like slabs of chocolate and popcorn tins (sigh, I miss those days). You get bored? You eat. And when you work from home there's a tendency to get bored. A lot. I go for a lot of walks. Mainly because I enjoy making iPod playlists to suit them. One time, I even tried listening to Vampire Weekend (after reading this NY Times review, I wanted to be sure my opinion of disdain was well founded, and whaddaya know, it is) (best line of the review - "They looked effortlessly of the moment." How nice).

One of the good things about this whole recession business is the humbling effect it seems to be having on everyone. Whereas for some of us it's things like forgoing pumpkin spice lattes, for others - like say, bands - it's doing wonders in terms of bringing them back to fans' levels. I'm talking about silly little things - like bandmembers selling their used equipment to eager takers (most recently, Jeph from the Used shedding his bass via Myspace) or bands offering incentives for fan spending (TBS offering early access to a new track with holiday card purchase, Idlewild offering loads of free downloads in exchange for album preorder, etc). It also means a greater likelihood for intimate gigs, more frequent touring, and a more hands-on approach to their careers (I imagine there are staff cuts everywhere, thus requiring artists themselves to participate more personally in their promotion and such). It's a shame that the circumstances are grim, but I think it ultimately bodes well for a change. The days of caring about our music heroes may actually return.

Speaking of music heroes, I was recently commissioned for an article in which I had to pinpoint the moment in my life when I fell in love with rock n roll. It was pretty impossible to decide, but for the sake of the story I settled on 6th grade - when I wrote in my diary that I wished to marry Axl Rose. It should be noted that I was in 6th grade in 1992. As in, when Axl Rose was still sexy. And Stephanie Seymour made one hell of a bride in that November Rain video (up til that whole dying thing). I was convinced that a thigh-skimming wedding dress/garter belt combo was my destiny (oy va voy, indeed).

Anyway, that said, I fucking love Chinese Democracy. I know I'm a couple of weeks slow to mention it, but I've been distracted, soz. I got really annoyed reading Jon Pareles' review in the Times. He refers to the album as Titanic - as in a modern marvel, but one that's doomed to sink. I don't care about sales figures - lord knows few people buy music these days, and there is definitely a reason I quit the proper music biz (I'll give you a hint - it's cuz I don't care about sales figures) - but I think Chinese Democracy, purely as a product of our era, is FAR from being a shipwreck. Pareles argues that today's industry won't tolerate the excessive perfectionism that delayed this record for over a decade. That Axl is stuck in a bygone era - the one in which he thrived. But you know what? Fuck that. A throwback to that era is precisely what us music fans have been aching for. Axl Rose is fullblown crazy. And so he's made a fullblown crazy record. But even Guns N Roses at its most watered down (ie, now, when Axl is the only original member) is more interesting and exciting than Vampire Weekend ever will be (I love coming full circle). So fuck you, Jon Pareles. If you're not a Guns N Roses person, would you even expect to like what may very well be the Ishtar of the rock scene (as in the punchline that only a true fan would love)?

My fave song off the new GNR (ah, summertime memories):



(I chose this particular version because the pic is cornrow free, thanks).

CAUGHT IN A MOSH

Today's post should be called "Karen's Brain Stew." Or "Pot-pourri." Basically a jumble of the various things that have interested me over the past couple of days that I've had to take note of and set aside in lieu of real work.

To start - watch this:



I'm not really a fan of Leona Lewis. I don't have anything against her, it's just that "Bleeding Love" didn't really do for me what it seems to have done for many others, and what she (and Jimmy Page) did to "Whole Lotta Love" during the Olympic closing ceremony was a sin. That said, I'm a big fan of the song "Run" by Snow Patrol. And well-done cover versions. And this is that. It takes a while to build, but then, so did people's appreciation for Snow Patrol. If you have the patience to see it through, I think you'll be touched (that's what she said?). I dunno, I got chills.

Now for some TV related notes:

1. Who the hell is the music director for Cold Case? I would like to shake his or her hand. Don't know if any of you watch the show (I never did, but my new insomnia results in lots of late-night TNT viewing, ie, loads of Cold Case and Without a Trace) (PS, WHY did they stop airing classic X-Files episodes????). Anyway, for those of you who are unfamiliar, the show revolves around years-old unsolved mysteries. To set the tone, each episode features music specific to the year of the given crime. One of the episodes I caught last night took place in 2000. The songs I remember (Boris, if you're reading this, help a sista out, cuz I'm fairly certain I was giving you running commentary) - "Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down, "Run" by Collective Soul, and "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?" by Travis. Sure, you can call these selections cheesy, but fucking hell is it pleasantly so. I definitely felt transported to freshman year.

2. Am I the only person who laughs every time theres a walk-n-talk on these hour long dramas? The other night at Bowery, Gurj and I devised a drinking game in which you had to do a shot every time a companion muttered "Oh, I know this one!" I think the same game can be dangerously applied to watching shows like the above-mentioned. Every time there's a noticeably long sequence of the camera pulling back while two characters discuss the facts of a case... shot. I think its safe to say the creators of these shows are fans of Stanley Kubrick and Woody Allen. Just sayin.

3. "I'm just a goof looking for my ball." Ummmmm....... barf.

4. The South Park clip that Sarah posted on her blog yesterday made me LOW (as in, laugh out wee) (gross).

And now its time for sports. I promise to keep it short like Sean Avery, who coincidentally is the subject at hand. The NHL (thats National Hockey League, kids) suspended my future ex-boyfriend yesterday - indefinitely - because of the following video (don't worry, it's like 40 seconds long, and he's fine):



Yes, all he did was refer to an opponent as "falling in love with his sloppy seconds." (Some dude on Calgary, who Dallas was playing the other night, is now dating Elisha Cuthbert, who used to date my man Avery). As my friend John noted, "sloppy seconds" is a term he would use in front of his mother (and probably has). As in, it's not really that tragic. So why the hell are they making it such a huge deal and suspending him INDEFINITELY? People are saying he may even get fired from Dallas (which is great, bring him back to NY stat please thanks). Could this be fallout related to the recent BBC/Russell Brand/Jonathan Ross scandal? Nah. But still, equally ridiculous.

WHATEVER I WAS THEN, I CAN'T EVER BE AGAIN

Snow Patrol played Bowery last night. Felt like old times - drinking too much vodka, making inappropriate comments, standing alongside Dave, Dana, Jess and Andrea (and Gurj and Mark and Annie). Only now Andrea is married and 8 months pregnant. So I guess things are a little different.

I'm back into re-obsessing over the Nuggets box set that used to soundtrack Anna's ridiculous St Marks house parties, back when she had a house on St Marks, and back when we partied. One of my favorite songs on there is "Can't Seem to Make You Mine" by The Seeds. I did a lil Youtubing and found this great (as in OVV) clip of them from American Bandstand in 1967:



It made me wonder - do you think those old-timey bands' friends razzed them whenever they were on TV? Like, "Hey keyboard man, sweet dance moves." Or, "Oh singer, you are EVER so sensual." I know we do it now. The Art Brut viewing party when they did Conan was alllll booze and alllll laughter. Same with the play-by-play I gave Matt on the phone when TBS did Leno (or something, I forget). I just wonder what guys in bands were like back then. Cuz from the looks of clips like the above, they were the titans of tool-town. But, in fairness, it's safe to say that '60s TV presentations weren't necessarily indicative of actual personality. Thanks censors!


**UPDATE: Balls. I got so distracted by the Nuggets awesomeness that I totally forgot the other point of my post. Last night at the gig, Razorlight came up in conversation (lord knows why). I think Mark was saying something about Johnny Borrell's face. Whatever, that in turn led me to remember the gem of amazing that Imran shared with me in October.

Behold, Razorlight.

Ok, ok, you can watch it again if you'd like. I won't judge. I had to watch twice to make sure I hadn't missed anything. But nope, nope - what it is is what it is. Johnny Borrell. Johnny Borrell's earrings. Johnny Borrell's poets blouse. And some matches. And oh right, theres some other dudes in the band. They have matches too. But don't worry, you didn't miss a thing.

Mark would argue that I'm letting Johnny Borrell win by turning people on to his video. But you know what? I'm making such a concerted effort to quit my nasty habit of cynicism that I'd like to take this opportunity to share the joy with whoevers interested (ha, I just remembered that an editor friend bumped into me last night and said, "What brings you here? Are you working? Or is this for - joy?").

Save me Johnny Borrell.