STOPLIGHTS ARE SWAYING AND THE PHONE LINES ARE DOWN


"I can say one thing for Kings of Leon, they sure bring out the beautiful girls." So said Hardeep as he joined me at the Garden last night. Flash forward to the end of the gig when Keith, Christian and I stood chatting before the aftershow (I voiced my disdain for the lack of "True Love Way" - AGAIN, I might add; they shafted me at Brixton as well - to which Keith replied that I must've imagined the song's existence because he's never heard of it and the Kings hadn't played it at all when their bands toured together). We stood in one of the Garden tunnels as throngs of people filtered past to various destinations. One such throng consisted entirely of tall, well-dressed, beautiful girls. "Did you just see that? Holy models...." Keith said. It's true. Hot chicks love Kings of Leon almost as much as I imagine Kings of Leon love hot chicks. And it's a phenomenon you can't help but comment on. I remember being in Atlanta for the KOL/BRMC show about a year ago (as part of the best two months of my life, when I was writing that blog for Blender). As I walked down the street towards the venue, the maitre d' of some restaurant called out to me, "Hey! You going to see that rock band?" Yes, I said. "Yeah... all the beautiful ladies seem to be going to see that rock band." Amazing.

The show was great, as always. I mean, the thing about KOL is that their songs - rule. Plain and simple. Every opening chord elicited an "I love this one" from me. It doesn't matter that they rarely change things up (the only glaring alteration last night was subbing "New York City" into the "Charmer" lyrics in place of West Virginia), great tunes make up for dull production. The biggest crowd reactions came for "Sex on Fire" and "Use Somebody," which I suppose is no surprise. I just couldn't believe how sold out it seemed. I mean - it was sold out. I guess I just didn't believe it til I saw it. I knew KOL were massive in the UK, but their build here was a lot more under the radar. Caleb seemed equally incredulous/satisfied when he announced from the stage, "We finally did it, America." He claimed he'd been dreaming of that moment his whole life (which I found a tad amusing considering that at the Brixton gig, he told the crowd that despite their Tennessee roots, the band considered the UK their true home).

The afterparty was at Citrine, nee Snitch. Having blown Merlin's mind pointing that out when we were there for Christian Siriano's birthday party, I decided to try it again - this time on Sam from the Bravery. "Hey dude, you realize where we are, right?" Sam seemed stumped. "This is where Sarah and I put on a gig for you guys during CMJ 2004!" "Holy shit," he said, "It looks completely different." We noted where the stage used to be (and the perilously close DJ booth from which Sar and I were able to count their beads of sweat), and Sam declared that that gig had been one of the most fun he'd ever played. Go team Tarts!

The club opened to the general public some time after 1 am, and Josh was bumped from the DJ decks in favor of some guy with the most vicious case of musical ADD. I remembered him from the night of Christian's party too - one of those DJs who thinks it's okay to play 30 seconds of 30 hits and call it innovation.

A big group of us continued the party at the Rose Bar alongside a few celebrities I could recognize but not name. All in all, twas a lovely way to bookend the week of Garden concert experiences. Massive high fives to Sune for hooking me up with the ticket (and even more massive high tens if he comes through with Metallica ones - Danes love Danes!).

(one other thing that my bberry bold ain't great at - taking sharp sounding video in the world's most famous arena. oh well, i tried. clip of "closer" from last night below)

POOR AND TIRED, BUT MORE THAN THIS

Sarah and I went to Brooklyn with B Flow. That was the culmination of a night that went from zero to messy in the span of a concert. I would say I don't know how we ended up in such twilight zone disarray, but then I remember the moment a few songs into the Killers' set when the guy next to me caught me swigging from the Kombucha bottle in my bag. "What is that," he wanted to know. My breath matched the answer - cabernet.


The show was fucking amazing. That's a given. I've even come to love the songs off Day & Age. Goes to show that if a band is great enough, the live show will always serve as vindication for perceived missteps.


Sarah and I were seated across the stage from one another but managed to spot each other and dance in unison during the Hot Fuss tunes anyway.


After the show, we were herded backstage to a silent room with chips and booze. Jeremy asked if I had my iPod and thus I became the impromptu afterparty DJ (which came in handy for cutting the insanely long bar queue). My memories from this phase are pretty consolidated - some guy started glaring at my iPod as I played a Prodigy remix. "What," I asked. "Can you play something good," he said.
"What qualifies as good?"
"Do you have any Killers?"
"You want me to play Killers at a Killers afterparty. Do you realize what an epic party foul that is?"
"Ok, yeah, fine. What else have you got?"
We settled on "Machinehead" by Bush.

I ended up throwing on the Josh Harris remix of "Somebody Told Me" anyway, purely to get a smirk out of B Flow. Sarah and I made our rounds, blowing people's minds with my "vintage" Killers shirt from '04 and trying to determine if P Diddy was in fact in the house. We found Dave hiding in a back corner and asked the guy next to him if he'd be willing to take a picture of the three of us.


"Don't you want a picture with him too?" Dave asked me. I shrugged. "He's in Vampire Weekend!" "OH," I said, "I love......... Imran!" (Imran, you best be reading this).


At some point Sarah and I made our way back to the dressing rooms to say goodbye to Ronnie, and that's where plans were hatched for the aforementioned Brooklyn excursion. Truth be told, we should've cut our night off there, but when Brandon declared an interest in a Brooklyn party it was impossible to refuse. If memory serves (which it probably doesn't), in the 5+ years that we've been friends, I don't think we've ever seen Brandon leave Manhattan (when in NY, obvs). Seriously. I mean, it was enough of a stretch that he was willing to go out after a show (after a show AND an afterparty at that), but to go out in an outer borough?? Amazing. Plus, who am I to deny my personal curiosity about the "scene" against which I rage on here constantly? I was definitely interested in seeing what goes on at an "MGMT party."

We hopped some cars and went to Glasslands where Ben from the band was meant to be DJing. Brandon was stunned that Sarah and I didn't know those dudes and made a point of introducing us when we got there. It's funny - I interviewed Ben for an article over the summer but never met him properly. We got to talking about that article - with me reminding him that he'd essentially killed the entire premise of the piece by telling me that MGMT are not really a Brooklyn band (it was for a "Brooklyn" issue of a magazine). I reiterated how crazy it was that Brandon had come to the 'burg, and Ben defended his invitation, saying that he wished people would bring him to parties like that one after gigs, as opposed to the usual trendy affairs. I mean, I get where the guy is coming from, but it must be said that this gathering was nothing to write home about. Granted it was a Sunday night, but if MGMT are supposed to be the granddaddys of the Brooklyn indie scene, one would think they'd draw more than the couple dozen people in attendance. Maybe we were just late. Or maybe I'm just right about that scene. (Yup, always).

I'll leave you with this... the newest Killers video, directed by the guy who does MGMT's videos. Go fucking figure full circle full stop.

I'M TAKIN FLIGHT, I SAID, I'LL NEVER GET ENOUGH

I was compelled to revisit the first Datsuns record yesterday; don't ask why. I had forgotten how much I love it. (PS, that link is not to their official page, but rather the one with the old tunes of which I speak). Truth is, I would never recommend The Datsuns to someone cold turkey. Every song sounds the same. The production is nothing to write home about. And yet that record - all 30-something minutes of it - so perfectly encapsulates the spirit of the indie music scene in the early 2000s. The "new rock revolution" (to borrow kindly from NME at the time). I won't even start the argument of whether the bands of that time - these Datsuns, Von Bondies, Interpol, Raveonettes, Hives, Vines, White Stripes, etc - are better than today's cache of crap because, as always, I assert that popular music opinion should be entirely subjective. However, there was such a swagger back then. The bands had such balls (which is even more impressive considering how tight their pants were). Datsuns live shows were practically events. Backbending, wall-climbing, sweat inducing events. And all these bands were playing and partying together. Making out in grungy hotels. Swapping spit, pills, and backing vocals. There was a palpable energy surrounding it all. I don't get a sense of vibe from today's "scene" (yeah that's right Vampire Weekend, MGMT, Chairlift, Yeasayer, Man Man, etc). Sure you may all be friends, shaking hands on the corner of Greenpoint and Franklin, but got a vibe to spare? Can you imagine a party with this group? I have visions of quilting bees, and like, people drinking PBR and writing alternative scripts to the Daily Show.

Speaking of Brooklyn pretension (and don't get me wrong, I definitely love Brooklyn, just not its accompanying crop of douchery), I was making my way back to Manhattan from the 'burg yesterday and found myself sat next to a man who couldn't have been more than 10 years my senior. Smoking a pipe.

Yes. A guy in his 30s. Smoking a pipe. In 2009. (Reading some yellowed book for added effect). I thought I'd seen it all, and then I got to 6th avenue. Where some guy was playing his digareedoo for the waiting commuters. Normally I would've been furious. I get intensely aggravated by people making unnecessary noise in the subway. But yesterday was different. Completely unintentionally, this digareedoo player was making sounds similar to the opening of one of my favorite Nine Inch Nails songs, Beside You In Time.

BESIDE YOU IN TIME, live (and still incredible)


Which got me thinking how fucking funny/amaze it would be if a bunch of subway musicians got together to form a NIN cover band. Complete with digareedoo and upside-down pail drums. The latter of which would come in handy for the opening of another fave, Love is Not Enough.

LOVE IS NOT ENOUGH


Can anyone else imagine that?

Anyway, finally, in honor of the Knicks winning and Dave Galea being the best sports watching buddy evs (mainly because he tolerates my long-winded explanations of why I would rather eff David Lee than David Wright) (the answer being because Lee is a badass, duh) - behold two of the most formative minutes of my sports fandom:



(Seriously, that year changed my life. I actually clapped after watching that clip and am not even remotely ashamed to admit it). (Ok, maybe a little ashamed).

LIFE'S A JOURNEY NOT A DESTINATION

Friends are aware of my Mets and Rangers obsessions, yes. But Knicks? The Knicks have blown since I was a teen. And yeah, I'm a fair weather fan, what of it? I won't bore you with Knicks recaps, even I don't need the laugh, but I WILL tell you about Danilo Gallinari. Oh. my freegin. gahd.


LOOK AT HIM! Could he be any cuter? Yes, yes he could.


Mmmmmm. Gratuitous men's magazine spreads.... Anyway, what makes this stallion all the more appealing? Apparently, when he first joined the team, the spazztastics at the Garden decided to make his entrance music "That's Amore." It's cuz he's Italian, ya get it?? So fucking dumb. Thankfully, Dani's got ballz, and he spoke up for himself. And as the MSG commentators reported tonight, now emerges to a song by the rock group Alice in Chains, with a chorus something along the lines of "here comes the rooster," because his nickname in the Italian league was Rooster. My heart, it skips a beat. A very sexy song for a very sexy Knick.

I've regressed to transitional life mode now that everyone's back at work. The quest for the next phase means neglecting the existence of Andrea and Mark's new baby, missing Sarah and Tim's engagement party, and generally feeling bummed (apart from during the inauguration when I wept openly with joy). But then I remember I've got friends like these:


Who make late night sandwiches out of corn chips, barbecue sauce, and buns.


And convince us all that they're tasty.



And also? Chat N' Chew is introducing hamburger cupcakes in February.


That is all.

WATCHING AS THE WORLD YOU'RE IN SLOWLY TAKES ITS TOLL


Things to do in New York when you're bored. For one, make clipart (see above). I think the joy of our DJ reunion has been inspirational on all levels. I did that; Sarah wrote a blog post like she hasn't written in aaaaages, doing the classic video dance like I do almost every late night, curled up with a tea and a VH1 Classic video block.

VH1 Regular proved its worth last night with my favorite trainwreck of humanity, ROCK OF LOVE BUS (YESSSSSS!!!!!!!). "I didn't know they made bikinis in size fat fuck." I mean... really? These women are unreal - literally and figuratively. Of course the one I identify with most is the one that gets branded as "smelling like a man," ie the only one who refrains from dipping in the whoresbath, ie the only one who doesn't give off the welcoming bouquet of vitamin E cream and babywipes. This show makes my life better every week. I don't know what that says about me. I'm not sure I want to know.

Anyway, now that the Giants are out (I'm a Jets fan, but I was still being supportive), the Rangers are slumping, the laugh-quotient of the Knicks is wearing thin, and baseball is still months away - I need other things to stave off the boredom of unemployment. So, imagine how good it sounded when Leigh suggested we build a tent in her new backyard. Yeah.

So there we were - two very urban ladies making the bold move into Paragon Sporting Goods.


That's Leigh inspecting tarps. Points to her for superior engineering concepts. Meanwhile, I was distracted by the quease-inducing selection of camping foods. I love the idea of camping (Mrs Lewis, if you're reading, we really need to get on that). I do not, however, love the idea of freeze-dried beef stroganof.


Go figure. Once the tarps had been selected, we proceeded to checkout. As the guy rang up the purchases, I turned to Leigh and said, "This suddenly feels very Law & Order. Two very non-sporty looking girls buying large tarps for no apparent reason... and suddenly there's a body in the East River."

"You're totally right," she said. "I probably shouldn't have used my credit card. Now they're gonna bag the pen I used and dust it for prints. And they probably have security cameras trained on our faces as we speak."

"Shit. And now we're going to buy twine and duct tape. This is getting worse and worse."

The Paragon dude handed over our parcel and said, almost ashamed for us, "You guys watch way too much TV."

Whatevs, bro. That's why we were building a tent! Ryan and Justin came over to help with the actual assembly.


(Pretty much the only thing that bums me out about my sweet sweet Blackberry Bold is the shit flash on the camera, hence the darkness and lack of better documentation). Once we were somewhat satisfied (that is to say, once it got freezing and I suggested we wait for Leigh's roommates' approval before doing any more damage - I mean, home improvement), we retired to the living room for Dominos cheesy bread and... this:



I had thankfully missed Leigh's late night IM on Sunday urging me to turn on public access. Had I seen this show in the dark of night, on my own, under the influence of Trader Joes... I might have fled New York. It's twenty minutes of that guy. Smoking cigarettes and declaring his love for a woman that he recently slept with. And asking to sleep with her again. And apologizing for the fact that he's going to have to kill her in the name of satan. I shit you not. And I thought Brody Jenner getting a show was a stretch....

INTO THE FLOOD AGAIN


laundry day. i like black tights. a lot.

Continuing the trend of trying to live 2009 like the fun times, I spent the early hours of the morning at Lit. Sarah was DJing the Glasvegas afterparty, and we decided to mark the occasion with an impromptu Tarts of Pleasure reunion (we hadn't DJed together since September!!). I jokingly told Sarah to bring techno goggles and a rave whistle because the time I spent with DJ Watkins in October left me addicted to killer rock remixes. My first song of the night was the Computer Club remix of NIN's "That's What I Get." Almost immediately, a group of people charged the DJ booth to tell us how stoked they were that the Tarts were back in business. Told us they'd been big fans of the Orchard Bar days and couldn't wait to dance again. My DJ guilt kicked in and I felt obliged to treat the peeps to old school Tarts, as opposed to the new stuff I had set aside. And so our set became pretty standard, not to mention far too short.

Sune DJed after us, adding to the retro appeal. I mean, dude was our surrogate cheerleader back in the day. After he finished his set, we retired to the back room to chill with the Glasvegas clan. Before getting into a dorkery expo over shared love of David Lynch, we discussed 90s music and our weaknesses for metal (I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when Sune proclaimed broad admiration for Axl Rose and Megadeth; I'm pretty sure his pre-Raveonettes band was of the metal variety).

What I found particularly interesting was his observation regarding grunge music's staying power (or lack thereof). He's a self-proclaimed fan of Nirvana and the like, but noted that today's younger generation seems less interested in the stars of grunge than they are of say, post-punk. That Joy Division and Depeche Mode have a broader appeal than the Soundgardens and Alice in Chains of the world. (More specifically, that you don't hear people spinning the latter bands at nightclubs. Dude obviously never came to Hanger Bar, but I'll forgive). I suggested that the discrepancy is purely a product of post-punk being more danceable, not necessarily more popular, but who knows.

We also got into a debate about the best singer of the 90s. I told Sune that I'd recently seen the video for "Head On" by Jesus & Mary Chain and that it reminded me so much of the Raveonettes. He admitted that he'd always thought it was a Pixies song, because their version was the first he had heard. And that he actually prefers the cover, because he thinks Frank Black is the best singer of the 90s. Oh silly, silly Sune. Mike Patton anyone? Eddie Vedder? Anyway, I looked up the Pixies version on Youtube today, and no.



Mega lolz points for the long cardboard CD box, but that's got nothing to do with the performance. As far as versions of the song go, JAMC's original is clearly superior. Don't get me wrong. I think Frank Black is amazing, but he is far from being the best singer of the 90s. It all comes back to my assertion that music is completely, completely subjective. When and where you discover a song or band determines your love for it far more than definitive "quality."

Coincidentally, I had a related conversation about Glasvegas themselves today. A journalist friend was expressing disdain over last night's Bowery gig (which I missed in lieu of watching the Knicks lose). He went so far as to say that he thinks they're in the Bravery category of style over substance. Blasphemy! I love the Glasvegas record, but am also quick to admit that the love is a product of timing. Back in August, I was faced with a train journey from London to Wales and wanted new music to pass the time. I had caught the end of Glasvegas' set when they opened for Kings of Leon in Brixton and figured their album was as good as any to soundtrack the late night trip. And it was perfect. Sweeping, dark, epic... just like the UK countryside passing my window. It made me happy (oh you know, in that dark, moody sort of way). But who's to say that I'd like it as much had I picked it up in the wave of current hype? Knowing me, I probably wouldn't.

THIS WIND IS BLOWIN' MY MIND


Happy new year! 2009 has kicked off with all sorts of happy. The British/LA invasion proved to be just what the doctor ordered. (Well okay - the invasion, plus VH1 Classic's 2009 for 2009, and maybe a lil bit o' vodka). (And also maybe a stop at the Continental of all places - proof positive that if you've got the right group of friends, ANY bar in Manhattan, regardless of college-kid-to-douchebag ratio, can be hilarious).

I must begin by saying that I am in no way affiliated with VH1 Classic (though if someone reading this is, by all means hook a sista up with a gig). Fucking hell, it is the BEST. The 2009 for 2009 video marathon, while boring in theory, has been AMAZING (Fran, Alex, Gurj, please testify). It's like radio, but with squeal-inducing visual accompaniment. Almost every video is a pleasant surprise - either because its existence was previously unknown, or because of the sheer audaciousness of style and production value, or because the resulting group sing-alongs remind me that I'm not the only one of my friends with tool-icious taste in music.

Have you ever seen the video for "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac??? It's from the early days of music video television (ie, 1982, when MTV (and I) was a whopping one year old), therefore it falls into the first of the three aforementioned categories. It's one of my favorite Fleetwood Mac songs, but I had NO idea there was a fantastical video that went along with it. Behold - Stevie Nicks in assorted period costumes. Stevie Nicks in ultimate feather-haired glory. And interpretive dancing.



But that's not even the best. The best is something words cannot describe. A) I had never heard a thing about the following band in my life. B) I had never laughed so fucking hard at/loved every minute of a mini-movie of imagination (except for maybe the Robert Plant fantasy sequence in Song Remains the Same). Please, PLEASE, for the sake of your new year being happy, WATCH THIS VIDEO:



Okay, now we can be friends. I've got a lot more on my mind (ie, wondering if Rob Halford and Freddie Mercury ever hooked up) but it's time to get back to applying to various jobs that I'll never hear back from. I love unemployment..... not.

You know what I do love though? ROCK OF LOVE BUS!!!!!!!!


Oh, Swimsuit. So sad to see you go.