am i too old to live a fulfilling life AND blog about it???

I was going to say that today was a pretty typical day, but there is no such thing. Today was a typical day for me. While some of my peers might find my day to be exciting, or refreshingly productive, others will certainly find it monotonous, uninspired and depressing.

TwoSlaps Radio [WLUW]

Arvo's sick so I'm playing some of my newest, bestest soul, funk and reggae tracks

La Charanga '76 - No Nos Pararan

Blue Magic - Born On Halloween
Dap Kings - Hard Eight
Pato Banton - Don't Sniff Coke
Bongos Ikuwe & the Groovies - You've Got to Help Yourself

H.B. Barnum - Heartbreaker
Garnet Mimms - Looking for You

Jackie Lee - Superdance
Roy Hamilton - Crackin Up Over You
Fearns Bass Foundry - Don't Change It

Tom Tumbleweed - Tumbling Down
Martha Turner - Dirty Old Man
The Sharonettes - Papa OOm Mow Mow

Viola Willis - Sweetback
The Bobby Patrick Big Six - Monkey Time
The Chips - You Make Me So Good

Macy Skipper - Goofin Off
Alex Harvey - Agent 00 Soul
The Meddyevils - Place Called Love

New Birth - Honey Bee
Primevil - Stop Look Listen!
Eugene McDaniels - Freedom Death Dance

Carrie Riley & the Fascinations - Super Cool
The Hitch-Hikers feat. The Mighty Pope - Mr. Fortune
Shirley Bassey - Light My Fire
Kool & the Gang - Jungle Jazz
John Congos - He's Gonna Step On You Again

Eddie Johns - More Spell on You
Electric Light Orchestra - Evil Woman
Breakwater - Release the Beast

David Axelrod - Holy Tuesday
Speedometer ft the Speedettes - Wait Up (This Time I'm Going)
Jimmy Smith - Root Down

First Choice - Smarty Pants
Bergendy - Tramp-Reszlet


[Pato Banton suggests that, instead of cocaine, you might want to give marijuana the old college try]

Date: 10/11/08
Shows(s): "We Need Each Other" at OhNO!Doom! and "Circus Circus" at Alchemists Cost(s): Free and donation, respectively
Things I missed to be there: THE BALTIMORE ROUND ROBIN feat. Dan Deacon, The Death Set, Video Hippos, Cex and more at Epiphany; Three Legged Race at Lampo; Tirra Lirra and A Tundra at High Concept Loft; DOA, Reagan Youth, IATTACK, and Johnny Vomit at Double Door; These are Powers at No Coast; (Lone) Wolf & Cub st Metal Shaker; Eavil at Hotti Biscotti; Life During Wartime at Hideout; Gruv'n Saturdays with Joe Vor-Tech; Itch13 at Ohm
Reason for going: toys! and a circus!

Date: 7/3/08
Location: Hideout
Show: Tales of Colt 45 feat. Matt & Kim, Hollywood Holt, Rand Sevilla, & The Death Set
Cost: RSVP
Drinks: free malt liquor til 11



I spun a seven hour tag team set last night. It wasn't my best work, coming as it did after a nine hour shift at the day job, but there were some true moments of genius. The highlight track of the night (not counting Apache Indian's "Boom Shak A Lak" and a bmore remix I made of Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"), was a track I didn't know I had until last night. It was a Million $ Mano remix of the Matt & Kim song "It's a Fact", with extra vocals by Hollywood Holt (listen to it here).

The song is 100% more than the sum of its parts, all of whom were showcased at this month's Vice Magazine/Colt 45 party at the Hideout.

The first act up was Hollywood Holt, who in only a couple years of performing, has built up quite a rep for himself. Not necessarily a good rep, but not necessarily a bad one either. There are just so many words, with both positive and negative connotations you can use to describe him, and they'd all be accurate. He's a stage diving, break dancing, moped riding hipster of the highest order, an insufferable braggart and a world class cock block. He's also a rapper that in his short time on the scene, has toured with M.I.A. and penned a couple of solid rap anthems (both "Throw a Kit", his moped-themed take on Rich Boy's "Throw Some D's" and his boastful "Caked Up"). Pretty much, he started out as a hype man, and he's living well beyond any hypeman's greatest dreams: He's cut out a little piece of the spotlight for his solo endeavors, played the world over with some of the best dance and hip hop acts today, has bitches all over his jock, and now even has his own hype man! It's like ascending your class rank in some sort of hip hop hinduism, and few hype men ever make it to the other side.

Still, watching him live is like watching a hype man; it's like watching a bat mitzvah dancer trying to woo grandma onto the dance floor to join the family for the Cha Cha Slide. At times he's completely engaging and at times he's just too cheeseball for words. I don't really know how to express the latter in print, but I'll use an exchange he had with an audience member as an example of the former.

Hollywood: [holding the microphone down to a cute girl in the audience] You like the show?

Cute Girl: Yeah!

Hollywood: You gonna go onto HollywoodHolt.com and download the album?

Cute Girl: Is it free?

Hollywood: Is it free?

Cute Girl: Yeah!

Hollywood: Oh I see. I'm good enough to come out and perform, but you won't pay for my record? I gotta just keep makin music and be poor andsleep on the bus? Why?

Cute Girl: It's for the people.

extra letters for extra funnn!

Date: 6/24/08
Location: sonotheque
Show: Minor Figure$ feat. BFF, Juiceboxxx, nd Gutter Butter
Cost: FREE!
Drinks: $2 PBR
Things I missed to be there: Outdanced! with Bearries and DJKT at Funky Buddha; Modern Love with Abducted at liar's club
Reason for Going: Best price:location:fun ratio of the evening



You know those conversations you only have with a lover? (apologies for the loaded and tacky term - I try not to use it) ... by which I mean those half-dreamt, half spoken ramblings that spill out into conversation before you go to sleep. I used to have pages of them journaled, but now the book is as lost as the memories. There are only a few that I could recall without my memory being jogged. The first was about developing a tapeworm that splits its time between the stomach and the uterus eating half of your food and any eggs that happened to get fertilized, and the skinny, childless utopia it would open up for us.

Another was Hamsters in Test Mode, an anthropomorphic electroclash band of cyborg robots that play songs like "Ichiban, Itchy Foot" and "All Systems Go!" Chicago's BFF might be the closest I ever come to seeing the band.

It might have been the animation, an acid flashback of rainbow hearts zipping across the screens, that started off BFF's set that makes me think of candy, of being forcefed candy, of being shocked by candy like sweet tarts melting into a saline enema. The project, a collaboration between animator/street artist Pooper and Hunter Husar (from Mahjongg/Waterbabies). It recalls elements of any project where women rap, chant, and cheer over synthesizers that sound almost like guitars. There are shades of Uffie, Le Tigre, The Go! Team, Puffy Amiyumi, Miss Kittin, and the Soft Pink Truth. If Pooper was louder with her voice and bigger with her movements, she could have overpowered the goon-y tall dudes standing between me (short) and her (shorter).

That could never happen to Milwaukee's Juiceboxxx. Dude starts a party with the precision the United Center starts a Bulls Game. One second you're standing there, skeptical, wondering if you just might be over Juiceboxxx already and the next you're pumping your fists in the air and bopping your feets as you watch his simian ass climb the rafters and shout-rap. He's probably the nost confrontational rapper I've ever seen, not just getting out there to juke up in his fans' personal space, but to roll around the floor and get up in the faces of the bored dudes peacefully sitting at a table ignoring him. When you couldn't see him, you still couldn't ignore his presence. Like that guy behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz was yelling something that your brain couldn't pick up but the rest of you could read loud and clear.

It ain't music to think to, ab=nd it wouldn't be worth a damn if it was.

Two Slaps Radio [WLUW]

Lab Rat:

Fela Ransome Kuti & the Afrika 70 - Gentleman
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra - Big Man
Femi Kuti - Traitors of Africa

[click here to listen to the show from this point on]

Honny & the Bees - Psychedelic Woman
Billy Ball and the Upsetters - Tighten Up Tighter
National Soul Review - Engine No. 9
The TSU Tornados - Cutting Corners
The Grass Roots - Midnight Confession

Apostles of Music - Look Where He Brought Us From
Sonny Cox - The Wailer
Bubbha Thomas and the Lightmen Plus One - The Phantom

Arvo:



The Temptations - Just My Imagination
The Four Tops - Sugar Pie Honey Bunch
Marvin Gaye - I Heard It Through The Grapevine
The Marvelettes - Please Mr. Postman

Smokey Robinson - Cruisin'
James & Bobby Purify - I'm Your Puppet
The Contours - Just A Little Misunderstanding
Michael Jackson - You Can't Win (The Wiz)

Ben E. King - Spanish Harlem
Timi Yuro - I Love How You Love Me
Shirelles - Will You Love Me Tomorrow
The Dells - Run For Cover
Edwinn Starr - 25 Miles
The Lovelites - I'm Not Like The Others

Labi Siffre - I Got The
Sly & The Family Stone - Sing A Simple Song
Nat Turner Rebellion - Plastic People



The California Raisins - Signed Sealed Delivered

This week's free album

So it seems like every other week, a major album gets released on the internet under a pay-what-you-feel-like donation system. Half of the time, it's just Trent Reznor, newly free from the constraints of a record label and gleefully wanking out albums, side projects and experiments like he was Ani Difranco in the 90s, but just yesterday, Girl Talk released the follow up to his fabulous mash-up/sound collage album Night Ripper (you can download it here.

Part of me wonders what his motivation was for putting out an album like this, whether it out of necessity or ingenuity. Even though Greg Gillis hasn't had any legal trouble over his previous albums, barely anyone knew who he was when they were released and now that he's headlining festivals, a few labels might be watching him to see if they could bleed him for some dough. That's kind of a long shot though, but it kind of isn't. I wonder if releasing the album for free/donation might clear him from responsibility. Gillis has already stated that he's going to be releasing a physical copy of the album in the next few months, so maybe this just counts as a soft release.

but the truth is, in 2008, Girl Talk is going to have to do a lot to differentiate himself from everyone. The internet is cluttered with mixtapes and muxtapes. Last week, the Hood Internet unveiled a "The Hood Internet Vs. Chicago" a well executed mix with a genius concept of mashing together Chicago bred rappers, rockers and DJs. On top of all that, we're only a couple months away from Flosstradamus' long awaited, loooooooong delayed official debut, and judging by some of their previous mixes, they might very well be able to out-Girl Talk Girl Talk.

On first listen, I didn't think Feed the Animals was as good as the anthemic Night Ripper but on a second listen it's starting to grow on me. Highlights include a segment of "Here's the Thing" where ? and the Mysterian's 96 Tears mixes into Kelly Clarkson's Since You've Been Gone which mixes in and out of Nine Inch Nails' March of the Pigs, and "Here's the Thing" which opens with a three-way mash of Dude 'N Nem's Watch My Feet,Pink's U + Ur Hand, and Underworld's "Born Slippy" (until I looked it up on wikipedia, I thought [gleefully] that it was Orbital's Halcyon (On and On))and closes with another one between Soulja Boy's Crank That (Soulja Boy), Ready for the World's Oh Sheila and Thin Lizzy's Jailbreak.

After Party Hardy

Date: 6/19/08
Location: Members Only
DJs: Crystal Castles plus ?????
Cost: $5
Things I missed to be there: An actual Crystal Castles set with Radioclit at the Double Door; a fashion show at Cobra Lounge; and a punk show at Lowercase Collective
Reason for going: Actually, I missed all of that other shit because I had my own gig. Thios was the AFTER PARTY!



Members Only houses some of the best party starters in the city right now, stalwarts of the rave, loft, house party, and bourgie club scenes, so how awesome would it be if they teamed up with Avant Trill, the tiny collective that provides the city with a perfect mix of avant garde, glam, and juke with their weekly party Outdanced, for an afterparty for the free show of a dance pop ?

As awesome as you can get for a Wednesday night in the summer at a spot with no climate control and a cover charge, I guess. It's not that it wasn't a good time, or even that I was disappointed, it just wasn't the best thing ever (unless you are, like Crystal Castles, a chiptune band. I'm sure that any chiptune, glitch, or breakcore artist in America would damn near sell their souls for a chance to have a room full of sweaty kids waiting for them to show up on a Wednesday night tour gig ). One moment, however, stands out in particular.

The DJ before Crystal Castles is playing a pretty heavy electro set, and has built up a fairly decent dancefloor, when he throws on Flo Rida's "Low". I was shocked to see that "Low" killed the dance floor. I've never seen this happen before. A guy who's building energy with some obscure gems should cause a riot when he throws on a dumb hip hop jam that everyone can sing along to. I'm not sure if this crowd was just so savvy, that they weren't going to stay on the floor for one of the biggest hits of last year, or if they were just so goddamned white that they didn't know what to do.

I guess it serves the guy right for not playing R. Kelly. It's his party this week, and the quicker we all get used to it, the happier we'll all be.

Date: 6/6/08
Location: Heatrt of Gold
Bands: Twang Bang, 7th Kind and La Dolce Veeta
Cost: $5
Drinks: $2 Peebers, $5 cocktails
Things I Missed to be there: Gregapalooza with Big Splashes and Sugarfoot at the Velvet Elvis
Reason for going: Have liked Twang Bang for years, but never seen them

To be a Jew, is to be of many minds on the same subject. On every subject, really.

Sometimes it seems like it all just comes down to random chance, the luck of the draw, being at the right place at the right time, et cetera. When someone puts Lil Wayne on at work, I wonder why it's him and not Sharkula. If Shark had been born later, and gotten into the game in the internet era, would it be his secretly genius/overtly retarded stream-of-consciousness rap all over the radio right now? If Twang Bang had gotten their start a little earlier, or a little later, in some place like Athens, GA, or New York, New York, would it have been their perfectly crafted novelty pop songs, about things like sex without love and two-headed women, instead of They Might Be Giants, or their upbeat brand of country, boogaloo, and old timey music instead of that of the Squirrel Nut Zippers? Would they be Tenacious D for the Country Music Channel? When I think about that

It's okay, we're all sweating together

Date: 6/5/08
Location: Flower Shoppe
Bands: Happy Haus, Jose Bove and David Diarrhea
Cost: ???
Drnks: BYO
Things I missed to be there: Analog Punks with DJ Madrid at Rodan; Hitodama at Town Hall Pub; Marat 14K and Menowah at People Lounge; We Are Your Friends with Skyler and Hey Champ! at Jbar; Slide with Zebo, Itch13, SR-71, Intel and more at Darkroom
Reason for going: Happened upon it by chance

Leavitt between 21st Place (not 21st Street) and Cullerton is completely deserted. There are no condos, and the houses, makeshift duplexes and three-flats and six flats are beautiful. The lights are all off inside the houses. The signs on all the storefronts are hand-painted. It's idyllic. It is the way that Woody Allen, in the 70s, portrayed Brooklyn in the 50s. The flashing blue lights of lightning menacing above clashes with the flashing blue lights of surveilance cameras menacing much closer overhead, but it ain't no thang. The clouds have not let loose their fury, and the cops are a block away, their sirens tucked under the hustle and bustle of the CTA, and the sounds coming from a drunk drivers stereo.

The alley is full of cats. The porch party is listening to Hank Williams-era country when I turn the corner.

If I could have filmed the last half hour, with its own soundtrack, I would rotoscope it, not in the purist sense of the world, but digitally paint it, the way Richard Linklater animated Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly and it would be my Fantasia. The improvised jam at the end of the night at the Flower Shoppe was beautiful. Maybe I can call up the city, and they'll release some of those security tapes for me.

The jam played out the way I remember fucking, the last time I fucked on acid, bookended by awkward, building in and out of a comfortable rhythm and then completely losing myself, mind and body, nerves and senses completely detaching from one another, only to snap out of it, to realize what was happening, with a heightened sense of appreciation for it, and then to take it wholeheartedly, ust a little bit past its natural conclusion. I don't know if that sounds beautiful or gross, or like stupid drug rambling that only makes sense to me because I was there.

I's been a while since I've been jealous of a band. I've seen the negative side of touring, the negative side of traveling with friends and lovers, but when everyone was playing together I wished it was me that had traveled into town into this beautiful scene of people, and to have it punctuated by lightning as if the skies themselves were telling me not to take it for granted.

When I got there, the last band was already playing. Haus Meeting, from Duluth, MN. Their angle was maximum joy. A mix of dumpster ballad folk and a pajama jam dance party in the kitchen, the kind that happens over kool aid and vodka when you're out on your own, but not too far removed from your parents' house. Another band of kids that sounded like they could halfway play their instruments, and halfway couldn't, candy-coated in garish thrift store clothes that made them stand out but did't look like they were trying too hard. It worked for them. They worked well together, and they were too good for an under-promoted wednesday night show.

The song that took me over the edge had the singer free styling stream-of-consciousness semi-gibberish about Sammy Sosa playing for Chicago back when he gave a shit about professional sports, our clothes being our costumes and our faces being our masks, and everybody wearing underpants.

Usually when I can slip into a place without being asked for a cover, I'm happy about it. I hate having to tell the door person that I just can't afford it, especially when it's a lie and especially when it's the truth. If it says anything about the band, I'll have to add that this was the first time in a while that I actually sought after merch after the end of the show because I really wanted to give the band some money to help them get to the next town.

There aren't enough nights like these.

rest in peace, bo diddley [WLUW]

Joe Tex - Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)
Joe Tex - One Monkey Don't Stop No Show
Joe Tex - I Gotcha

The Young Rascals - Ain't Gonna Eat Out My Heart
Dusty Springfield - What The World Needs Now
Timi Yuro - I Love How You Love Me
The Five Stairsteps & Cubie - Don't Change You Love

War - Slippin' Into Darkness
The Sound Stylistics - The Player's Theme
The Moon People - Hippy, Skippy, Moon Street

Brother Soul - Cookies
Baby Huey - Running
Charles Simmons & The Royal Imperials - Sissy
Lucille Brown & Billy Clarke - Both Eyes Open

Barbara Lynn - You'll Lose a Good Thing
Sam Cooke - Let's Go Steady Again
Mandrill - Here Today Gone Tomorrow

Bo Diddley - Hey Bo Diddley (live)
Gene Harris & the Three Sounds - The Land of Slim
Watts Prophets - Part-E, S
The Quantic Soul Orchestra - That Goose on My Grave

The Last Poets - Panther
Hampton Hawes - Web
Petey Wheatstraw - Zombie March

Aretha Franklin - Son of a Preacher Man
Derrick Harriot - My Last Letter/Valerie
Eddie Floyd - Knock on Wood

Montana - Warp Factor II
The New Birth - Honey Nee
Kashmere Stage Band - Kashmere

microblogging sunday!

Date: 6/1/08
Show: Pod Blotz, Magic is Kuntmaster, and more
Location: The Little Flower Shoppe
Cost: $4 donation
Drinks: BYOB
Things I missed to be there: The Burkhart Underground 10 Year Anniversary with Mark Bose and Environmental Encroachment; Sunday Funday at Smartbar with Acid Circus; Parsley Flakes at the Guesthouse;Gil Mantera's Party Dream at the Do-Division Street Fest
Reason for going: I had just held a writing workshop at my house that had died the same slow, pleasant-but-awkward death of all social functions with a purpose whose purpose had ended. The night was over, but fuck all if there's a show going on two blocks away and I don't at least check it out.



The dude with the iPod faded out the reggae music and the lights went out. A guy sat in a chair with a mgangled guitar and a series of peddles. I'm not sure what he'd done to the guitar, but it sounded the way a violin would if it was filled with a hundred angry ghosts, each one jabbing at my eardrums with ice picks in an attempt to climb inside and possess me.


[Magic is Kuntmaster doing her thing]

Microblogging Saturday!

Date: 5/31/08
Show: Dickhearse, Party Shark and more
Location: The Food Fortress
Cost: Donation
Drinks: BYO
Things I missed to be there: SR-71 at Tumans; Grown and Sexy Dance Party with DJ Logan Bay at Hideout; Mr Bobby and Luis Segura at Junior's; Alex Zelenka, Droidbehavior, and Bulimiatron at the Kompute Loft; Jai Alai Savant and the Eternals at Empty Bottle; Punch in the Face, No Slogan, and I-Attack at the Beat Kitchen
Reason for Going: Birthday BBQ a couple blocks away, plus I've never been there before



After Party Shark played the pop-tent in the living room, Dickhearse, a Discourse on Dickhorse. The set started off with one guy on the floor, contact-miked and writhing around inside of an elaborate frame of junk metal. It looked as if an air conditioner had wished to become human, only to have it come true and wind up stuck. After letting heads in the kitchen kick him around for a few minutes, he squoze through the climbed up to the drums for an awesome set consisting of percussion, electronics, and dental hygiene-related performance. I ended up tied to a couple of neighbors with some minty dental floss, completely sated, which was good, because I think the neighbors called the cops around that point and I'm not sure that Black Ladies got a chance to play.

micro-music-blogging Friday!

Date: 5/30/08
Show: Fantasy Fridays with The Last Starfighter (film), Beastmaster (film) and TomTomTomBoy
Location: Dos Butt
Cost: RSVP
Drinks: for sale at the bar or BYO
Things I missed to be there: MUTATORS, DAILY VOID, MODERN CREATURES, and TINY MUSIC at peopleprojects; Indecent Exposure with DJ Demchuk, Dancefloor Destroyers, BukakeBattle Kru and more at Liar's Club; Busdriver, Aleks + the Drummer, and Gutter Butter at Logan Square Auditorium; LOVELY LITTLE GIRLS, DEMONOLOGISTS and collage art by Christopher Ilth at Reversible Eye; PHOBIA, MAGRUDERGRIND, SKARP, AFGRUND, HEWHOCORRUPTS, and MORALDECAY at Metal Shaker; Mexican Cheerleader and Vacation Bible School at Lucky Gator Loft; DJ MAJOR TAYLOR at Tumans
Reason for going: wanted to do something different
Note: I left early to catch the show at Reversible Eye but that had ended even earlier. Christopher Ilth's collages were phenomenal though



As soon as I saw a post from Bike-In Cinema saying that they were starting up these Fantasy Fridays, I rsvp'd. Either last summer or the summer before that, they were hosting these impeccably curated movie screening that would feature usually one piece of high art and one piece of low art based around a similar theme. I somehow always missed them (it seemed like half of them ended up rained out anyway). If I heard correctly, the bike drive-in is coming back, but until then, we have this, a monthly fantasy double feature, plus booze and vegan ice cream, plus some sort of fantastical band (plus DJs?). If this keeps going, and if people start taking cues from the lone Beastmaster, in his stuffed animal tiger skin and undies, it looks like it will end up as some sort of hipster Rocky Horror Picture show (which, since maybe you can't tell my tone of voice from the words on the screen), I mean to say is a good thing.


[Siskel and Ebert hate my childhood]

half here check out

Date: 4/11/08
Location: Various Locales
Bands: A story told in fliers!
Cost: somewhere between free and five dollars
Things I missed to be there: I happened to miss most of the shows that I attended, leaving no room for Autechre at the Abbey, Larry Tee at Debonair, Skyler at the Sanatorium, Carla Bozulich's Evngelista at South Union Arts, Hitodama and Black Ladies at the UIC Student Pavilion, and Ticklefight Vol. 2 at the Butterfly Social Club

My girlfriend accused me of pushing a cliche yesterday, and we got into a big fight about aesthetics. We're good again, but I kinda feel like that if what I'm saying is cliche, and what I'm saying is right (undoubtedly), then maybe cliches have gotten a bad rap all these years. It is with that in mind that I open this blog up with the timeworn/time-tested phrase When it rains it pours.

Of course I use it here first literally, in that April's showers have come in at full force and hardly relented these last few days, and then figuratively, using it to connote that there were a lot of parties going on tonight and, unlike most party-filled Fridays, there were a lot of loft parties featuring loud, avant-garde-ish rock music.

Of course, that's no way to start the evening, so as soon as I could get out of work, I tore down to beautiful East Pilsen, where Sarah and I were shooting pictures as a part of 2nd Fridays, the monthly gallery crawl that takes place throught Podmajersky's artist residences and a few blocks in every direction off of 18th and Halsted. We got some good shots, but the night ended early, early enough that we had time for tacos, before I continued Northward on party adventures.



The first thing I thought I'd check out would be, against my better judgment, the oil wrestling show at the Cobra Lounge. When I got there, local, theatrical metal band Maggot Twat was playing underneath a video screen displaying their lyrics. Something like "I am so fucking insane/I could fuck a hurricane". It was very nineties, in the post hair metal, pre-nu-metal-style, like Clutch meets the Impotent Sea Snakes, with crunchy guitars and a certain lack of subtlety in their lyrics that's kind of charming after a day spent listening to Elliot Smith and emo at an overpriced clothing store. The music was alright, but the font was horrible. I couldn't tell if there were any girls, naked, half naked or otherwise dancing or flogging or wrestling in front of them. I know that the beautiful Miss Maya Sinstress often performs alongside them, but the promise of oiled up titties and cheesy girlfights brought out even more meatheads than the usual Cobra crowd, which is never really at a loss for them, and I couldn't see anything below the lyrics on the screen. Having seen more than my fair share of mudwrestling shows under similar circumstances, when they were all the rage a couple years back, I kept on my merry way, feeing pretty secure I wasn't missing anything.



I figured that the best way to travel was to take Milwaukee Avenue up north from Ashland, as there were three parties in a row between the 1400 and 2400 blocks. The first one was at the WOR Loft, a place I have yet to see a show in. Just as I was slowing the car to take advantage of some rockstar parking, I saw a few friends trailing out of the building, looking more than a little bit huffy. Apparently, after all the bands played their sets, the place had the audacity to kick everyone out. Go figure.

I yelled out to my friends, and they told me to go to the address that was the next on my list anyway, so I told them to stub their cigarettes and jump into the car, and on we went to the Halfway House.



The Halfway House used to be exactly what its name implies, but now it serves as a live/work/party space and home to one or more members of the band Young Turks and one or more people involved with the electronic music label Blue Screen of Death. It was a pretty good vibe. The bartender was pretty quick pouring beers, and the people who weren't in the mood to listen to experimental music stayed on the other end of the room and talked to each other while they waited for the DJ to come back on between bands. I halfassed my attempt to get in for free and got suckered into paying the full five they were asking at the door, but shit was good enough that I didn't mind.

Then, like all good things involving alcohol and people who may or may not have been able to drink it legally, some dumbshits had to go fuck it up. Story was, some kids were throwing something (I think I heard squirtguns?) at each other on the street, and they were drunk, and they were hitting all sorts of shit other than themselves, and they kinda skimmed a car or a lamp or something as some cops were driving by. The police, eager to prevent drunken property damage and/or put the kibosh on some hipster kids' fun, stopped and, instead of talking to the cops like adults, or running through an alley like a savvy teenager, they just ran right back up into the party, followed by the boys in blue. Dumbasses.

According to my friend Brian, whose band Clique Talk was unable to play, the penalty for that type of egregious party foul, should be a banishment from cool shit city wide, with a bail set at a minimum of 50 gigs roadie-ing for an unsigned band.

The cops slowly went through the party, frowns on their faces, sticks up their asses, dumping out bottles of beer and sniffing cups filled with soda. Eventually, one of the residents realized that people were having trouble getting the hint, and kicked everyone out.

No worries. I had to go North anyway, and there were three good-looking jams due North of Halfway.



I'm not sure if the next party had something to do with the show at peopleprojects or one of the other spaces in the Congress Theatre building, because I never got to go in. As we approached it, we saw a party procession streaming east, and a phalanx of cop cars that dwarfed the one that had just busted up our fun, so we kept going north to Lawndale just near Fullerton. Another party parade. I don't know what type of party it was at Lawndale, except that, looking at the crowd, the majority consisting of hood rats and drag queens, I was really sore about missing out on whatever it was.



We didn't really think we'd have any luck at the Private I. One of the many Dans that live there had told me over an hour prior that there was just one last band left, but when arrived, there was at least one more band left, and a few dozen people scattered about watching them. The Private I is a really great space, if only because the people who live there are doing everything they can to soundproof it, to keep the neighbors ameliorated and the cops at bay.

My friends who'd joined on since leaving the WOR Loft weren't going to get the dance party they were fiending for, but the music was good, the beer was cheap, and there were more than a few fun, intelligent, fuckable people/good conversationalists to talk to, so there was no real reason to leave, even if we did have a tip about something else going.

The only band I saw was Tirra Lirra, who sounded the way Bauhaus would sound if Peter Murphy had gone through a free jazz period. It was as cacophonous as it was complicated, maudlin and melodramatic. It was the first time I'd seen them, and the last thing I'd hear before going home.

It was a good nght in Chicago, as it always in when one new party springs up for every one that gets busted. All that's left now is for the skies to open up and the temperature to get up a bit. Then we can really do it right.


[a few seconds of Maya Sinistress and Maggot Twat at Cobra]

Ambivalent Ambiance

Date: 4/8/08
Location: The Flowershoppe
Bands: Tv Coahran, Fought, Right Eye Rita and White Nights
Cost: Donation can
Things I missed to be there: Outdanced! with The Prairie Cartel, Willy Joy, and Jessica from Office at Funky Buddha Lounge; Wingnut Dishwashers Union, Brook Pridemore, Toby Foster, and Animal City Lowercase Collective; Yeabig + Kidstatic, Protman, and The Grand Buffet at Empty Bottle; Retroforward with Kamar and Qbot at Neo
Reason for going: I wasn't going to go out at all until I found out something was happening by my house



Most shows just happen. It's rare that you have a show at a place where the setup has any bearing on what's going on. There's lighting and there's acoustics, but not much else by way of design. Since their inception, it's been an important part of South Union Arts and Reversible Eye, but SUA doesn't book shows during the winter months, and Reversible Eye might not be throwing any shows again. The Flowershoppe isn't the first place you'd look to for ambiance; it's kind of your basic musty garage full of art setup, but there's something to be said for throwing events in an old greenhouse.

The weather was brutal tonight, and right about party o'clock, the skies opened up and the ugly drizzle that had been falling for a couple hours became a torrential downpour. The couches were wet inside the Flowershoppe, and people were running around with buckets trying to catch leaks and keep the water out of the computers and samplers strewn across the floor. You could hear the rain pounding on the glass roof as Fought started his set; it was soon overpowered by a building electronic drone and with that set up, Fought moved on to his drum kit, and just like a movie, the first cymbal crash was punctuated by a flash of lightning. It was an intense set, all electronics and percussion, and strobes of lightning and camera flashes.

There was only... [mind goes blank]

It was a short set [thought trails off]

On the Road Again; Up the Punks; Fuck the Indiana Highway Patrol

For the first time in I don't know how long I had a weekend off and so did Sarah. A weekend weekend. Saturday + Sunday with no gigs, no interviews, no retail and no data entry. A unbique chance to get out of Chicago right when it's absolutely necessary in that long, draggy stretch of transition from winter to spring. We figured Louisville was the furthest we could get for a whirlwind thirty hour bender.

We've gotten really good at doing this. We found the good record shop online and went there first. Ear X-Tacy looked more like Empire Records than anything we've ever been. It looks like somebody gutted a Barnes and Noble and put a gigantic independent record store inside. Skater twinks in oversized hoodies smoked menthols outside as young families pushed strollers and lacey lolita goth couples walked arm in arm, as if strolling through some old French boardwalk and not the poster aisle. We didn't have any luck with the flyers table or free newspapers so we asked one of the cats who worked there. He told us to go to the same bar that everyone else told us to go to because, apparently, Cohoots is the only bar in Louisville worth going to. The place is kinda like Delilah's, but with giant 4-dollar Makers cocktails.

Dinah Washington - Mellow Mama Blues
Billie Holiday - Gloomy Sunday
Nancy Wilson & Cannonball Adderley - Save Your Love For Me
Reparata & The Delrons - I Can Hear The Rain Fallin'

Chicago Cubs Clark St. Band - Slide
The Bar-Kays - Soul Finger
Brother Jack Mcduff - Hot Barbeque
Booker T. & The MG's - Soul-Limbo

Brown Brothers of Soul - Cholo
Stormy - The Devastator
Wee Willie Walker - Ticket To Ride
Charles Thomas - Keep My Baby Warm
Mongo Santamaria - We Got Latin Soul

Clarence Frogman Henry - Ain't Got No Home
Floyd Newman - Forg Stomp
Wynder K. Frog - Willie and The Hand Jive
Frankie Stein And His Ghouls - Frog Frug (frug)
Sonny Boy Williamson (II) - Fattening Frogs For Snakes (Alternate Take)
Ferdinand 'Jelly Roll' Morton - Frog - I - More Rag

Ocho - Hot Pants Road
Little Richard - The Girl Can't Help It

Bootsy Collins - The Name is Bootsy
Dennis Coffey - Theme From "Enter the Dragon"
David Newman - Foxy Brown

Nicole Willis - Say It
Aaliyah - Back and Forth

Bobby Moore and his Rhythm Aces - Hey Mr. DJ
The Mohawks - The Champ
Morris Day & the Time - Jungle Love
Prince - Housequake
Zapp & Roger - Computer Love

The Delfonics - Ready or Not
The Peoples Choice - I Likes to Do It
Wendy Rene - After Laughter Comes Tears

Jimmy Ponder - While My Guitar Gently Weeps

The House of Beautiful Chairs is about as close as you're gonna get to a squat without having to keep a knife under your pillow, just a dirty little house in a part of Little Village that seems fairly intimidating at night. I don't know how fair or apt that description is, I mean, when I parked out front there were little kids and their families playing frisbie on the grassy street median, but there were also some hard looking dudes holding down the corners of the street like thug paperweights. The house was actually pretty nice given what it was. The people who live there are all pretty young, and it looks like a young person's apartment. Alleyed furniture, drawing taped and tacked haphazardly to the walls, tagged up flags and tapestries.

this song is about blood... and the holy name seis

Date: 3/29/08
Location: Lowercase Collective
Bands: La Armada, Parsley Flakes , Radical Cheerleaders, Slut Barf
Cost: Donation
Drinks: Not Allowed
Things I missed to be there: Jilt, Viewers Like You, GiGi Deluxe and Happy the Human Pin Cushion at Morseland; Totally Michael and the Sass Dragons at peopleprojects; Kid Loco, Jordan Z, and Livewire at the Sanatorium; Rat Patrol, Abrade, and Rat Bastards at Rancho Huevos; dance parties at one of the dance parties at one of the Diana's Shoes lofts and some place called Pussy
Reason for Going: Some sort of flawed reasoning that led me to believe that the hardest show to get to and from was the best one to go to

As of press time, the war in Iraq has been going on for five years and a few weeks. The official count of dead American soldiers is just over 4000, and that number increases sharply if you count every case of suicide, friendly fire, and deaths under mysterious circumstances. Conservative estimates say that over 100,000 Iraqis have died, including insurgent fighters, members of the old Iraqi Republican Army, and civilian men, women, and children (and while organizations such as the Red Cross have verified this number, our government's official toll is significantly lower and that's the figure that gets quoted on television, when it's mentioned at all).

It's been a few years since my last antiwar protest. I don't really see the point anymore. The three-word chants. The half assed street theater. The roaring sound of megaphones clashing against one another, over a steady soundtrack of bucket drums and police whistles. Nobody gives a shit. The powerful protests I witnessed at the onset of the war, where concerned Americans came out in the tens of thousands, were hardly reported on in the news, even when they got violent, and as the war surged on, people lost interest. With each passing march, the number of marches dwndles and the blurbs and the soundbites get shorter and shorter. It's a new century, with a new media consciousness, and it's apparent to all but the oldest and youngest members of the activist community that marches don't work, and no amount of hyping from, say, the Billionaires for Bush, with their cardboard coffins and plutocrat shtick will change things. It's hard to get a response. Malachi Ritcher immolated himself off the side of a busy downtown freeway, and it took months for people to hear about his death protest, not through traditional media, but through blogs and emails.

If you're a person, just a normal person with no real financial or political power, you need to do something truly outrageous just to get your song heard, and that's what the Holy Name 6 did. A couple weeks back, six activists calling themselves the Catholic Schoolgirls for Peace, arrived at Chicago's Holy Name Cathedral in their Sunday best. It was, after all, Easter. Midway through the ceremonies, they produced fake blood and dumped it all over themselves chanting anti war facts and slogans until they were arrested. The Catholic Church is against the war in Iraq, and has been since the beginning, but Cardinal George still meets with the president for photo ops, and, although he doesn't like politics to come up in his services at Holy Name, hasn't argued with the Catholic League in their endorsement of George Bush in the last couple elections, for fear that more innocent lives will be lost to abortion or homosexuality than are already being lost overseas, if a Democrat won the office.

So they covered themselves in stage blood, some of it spilling onto the pews and the carpet and even the guests, and were arrested, taken out and charged with felonies for the damage they were said to have caused. It wasn't at all a sophisticated protest, and they very well might not have considered how their actions might negatively affect the antiwar movement in the court of public opinion, but they do have some serious balls to do it.

Chicago is a shitty city to piss off Catholics in, and 2008 is a shitty year to piss off anyone. Quick google searches of the names of any of the Six will bring up myspace pages, facebook pages, and for one poor girl, her email address listed on her college's website. Before they were even bailed out of jail, their inboxes were full death threats and creepy personal information. Sympathetic cats at the Lowercase Collective decided to throw a benefit show for the Six in their basement laundry room.

When I got there, Parsley Flakes were playing their superbly awesome blend of synth punk and butts were bouncing around all over the little room, more and more with each song, culminating in a frenzied encore performance of the Genesis song "That's All." It was awesome. The last show I went to there had Milwaukee synthpunks We'rewolves end a set with CCR's "Down on the Corner", and if it ends up being a trend at the house, then I hope they open their basement up to a lot more shows as the weather catches up to the season.

The surprise of the night though, was La Armada. Despite the bands' Los Crudos patches, Condenada stickers, and dreadlocked rhythm section, they weren't playing hardcore, or even punk... they were playing METAL. Speed metal and thrash with guitar and drum solos, all in Spanish. I wish I was more well versed in metal, and could trust myself in comparing them to Creator or Archenemy or Opeth or Crom, but I haven't been lstening to a lot of guitar music lately, so the only comparison I could make is to say that La Armada is like a Dominican (and at least one Puerto Rican, if the heckling was to be believed) version of the cartoon band Dethklok.

All in all I, traveled for about two hours to get to and from a show where I ate a handful of vegan cookies, checked my beer at the door, and saw just two sets and I still feel like I won the night. Take that, dance party motherfckers.


[Parsley Flakes doin it up]

Two Slaps Radio [WLUW]

Dandelion Wine - Hot Dog
Mike & Ike - Sax On The Tracks
Zebra - Simple Song
Curtis Mayfield - Get Down

Parliament - P. Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)
Eddie Hazel - I Want You (She's So Heavy)
Bootsy Collins - Stretchin' Out (In A Rubber Band)

Grant Green - Final Comedown
Armenta & Majik - I Wanna Be With You
Ocho - Hot Pants Road

Jane Birkin - Love For Sale
Erma Franklin - Light My Fire
Brenda Lee Jones/London Fog And The Continentals - Easy Mover
Nina Simone - Save Me

Ike and Tina Turner - Come Together
King Curtis - Ridin Thumb
Marvin Gaye - Hitch Hike

Detroit Emeralds - You're Getting A Little Too Smart
The Meters - Hand-Clapping Song
The Majestic Arrows - Gonna Build You a Time Machine

The Invitations - Ski-Ing in the Snow
Jean Dushon - Second Class Lover
Kim Weston - Helpless

Prince - Cinnamon Girl
Ray Barretto - New York Soul
Gnarls Barkley - Run
The Mohawks - Sweet Soul Music

The Contours - First I Look At the Purse

FUNKY FUNKY FOOD SET!
Just Brothers - Sliced Tomatoes
Wendy Rene - Bar-B-Q
Brother Soul - Cookies
Natural Bridge Brunch - Pig Snoots Pt. 1

DJ Shadow and Keb Darge - Butter that Popcorn

lights out

Date: LEAP YEAR 2008
Location/Show 1: the independent international interstitial festival at i^3 hyperspace with lord of the yum yum, geoffrey pugen, negativland, heather marie vernon and more
Location/Show 2:unconventional action at the lowercase collective with we'rewolves, kt the band, purpetual dusk at curtsy caverns, porches and more
Cost: donation
Things I missed to be there: Parsley Flakes and Baby Teeth at the Empty Bottle; Bakelight 78 at the Bravarian Glau Haus; Miss Gab, Beatkids, and Har Mar Superstar at Debonair Social Club; Critical Mass Art Show Closing Party at The Heart of Gold; Back and Forth Nu Disco Party with Nick Chacona and DJ SR-71 at Lava; Livewire, Mr. Automatic, and The Sleevz at Reggie's

I was at two shows tonight where the lights went out.

In the first, they were turned off for The Simplification of an Island Imploding, a sound sculpture by Fashion Flesh that had no visual components. The piece was not without its merit. It isn't every Friday night that you can escape everything, the rush of cars and trains, flashing lights and pop music (or at least your particular subculture's approximation of it), and get to experience something with your fellow revelers, and I'm sure that no one appreciated that more than the drunken art institute students who took complimentary pillows to the floor, laid down, and soaked it in. Personally though, I was bored. It was a pretty standard background noise sound collage; nothing really engrossed me, no tension was built up or relieved, it pretty much kept its pacing and volume constant until it ended and then the lights went on. I appreciated the curators suggestion that we move around and explore the space but I wasn't in the mood, and from almost anywhere in the room, I think the piece would have benefitted from full surround sound, instead of just two speakers in the front of the room.

The second time the lights went out, I was sitting on a radiator on the second floor of the Lowercase Collective House. I'm not sure if it was Porches or Purpetual Dusk at Curtsy Caverns who did it, but it was a folk-punk act consisting of a guy with a guitar. I'm not sure if it was (a) out of modesty, or (b) in deference to the music he was about to play, or even (c) a calculated mimicry of either option, but it got my attention before he started out his pained and impassioned singing and in spite of his pained and impassioned voice. Keeping me there wasn't an easy task. Acoustic guitars almost always drive me from a room, and he was the third such act of the night.

On the surface, the two shows couldn't have been much more different. The I Cubed fest was an epic multimedia festival with weirdo talent from all over the country, held at an immaculate loft in a part of downtown where it's nearly impossible to park without a valet, and the first thing you see when you enter the space is an elevator that's been tricked out to look like Spring as envisioned in an Easter basket. The Lowercase Collective, on the other hand, is a house on the edge of Logan Square and Hermosa, where gentrification comes less in the form of punk hipsters and more in the form of forward thinking families settling, and you can't really find your way inside without hitting a bad patch of ice and busting your shit.

Both shows went for a three-tiered approach to their nights. The titular three I's of the I cubed fest stand for Independent, International, and Interstitial and the Lowercase Collective's show, labeled an unconventional action, consisted of a vegan dinner, a presentation on plans for organizing against one of the upcoming conventions (I missed that part and have no recollection on whether it was the Democratic or Republican Convention) and ending in a concert (two concerts really, with electric bands in the basement and acoustic acts upstairs).

A little more about the acts...



In a usual Lord of the Yum Yum set, Paul Velat uses a mix of beatboxing, throat singing, sampling and looping to perform a mix of iconic classical and pop music standards (think The 1812 Overture, Flight of the Bumblebee, Welcome to the Jungle, and Summer in the City) and mash them together in his own image, in a way that is often as impressive as it is hilarious, and unusually danceable. It's hard to believe that it doesn't get old, but he is consistently the high point of whatever show he's playing.

The last time I saw him was one of the best. He was playing a show with the underrated psychedelic punk outfit Loto Ball Show, opening for the purposefully (I think) cringeworthy, Dr. Demento'd out bad-is-funny-and-funny-is-good-so-ergo-bad-must-be-good act Little Fyodor at the Mutiny. I don't really know how to explain how his act, which is pretty weird to begin with, blew everyone away by being weirder than usual, but that night he really outdid himself.

Tonight he did it again, and maybe for the first time reached the potential of what all of those previous shows hinted at, when he premiered his opera Sock. The show is about a dude who wakes up to find one of his socks missing, and travels to the underworld to find it, encountering a cavalcade of odd characters, including singing trolls and naked mole rats on his journey to find the keeper of lost things. The opera used a mix of of puppets, masks and crowd participation to get the job done, and proves once again, that any children's show can be adapted for a discerning arts crowd with the addition of beer and words like "fuck" and "shit".

KT THE BAND

Upstairs at Lowercase, KT the Band started off the folk sets. Her lilting voice was reminiscet of a guitar playing Joanna Newsom, a midwestern Joanna Newsom who, instead of writing songs about unicorns and magic and shit, sings about beautiful girls who work in sandwich shops in Sheboygan. It would have had us all nodding in our seats even if she wasn't beautiful, but the mix of her and her music were so charming and delicate and delicately powerful and lovely that you could almost hear the hearts breaking all over the room. Somebody needs to get this girl into a real recording studio, because the tracks on her myspace page don't do themselves justice at all.

DANIEL KIBBLESMITH


At this point, it's hard to even think about a situation where something would offend me. On any given episode of any number of shows on Comedy Central and Adult Swim, the "hocking" same topics, have been rifled through so many times, I don't even notice half of the ironic racism and brutality breezing by. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. Shows like Wondershowzen and the Sarah Silverman show seem like they try (or tried in the case of Wondershowzen) waaaayyyy too hard to get the laughs that shows like South Park, The Chapelle Show, Shin Chan, and Robot Chicken seemed to do effortlessly, but the ratio of hits to misses is still in their favor (which is more than I can say for cheap, bullshit shows like Drawn Together).

In the twenty seconds or so that make up the meat of Daniel Kibblesmith's video Fix It With Eyes he uses Aushwitz, Abu Ghraib, a dead animal and a dead baby in a series of things that could be made better with big googly eyes. The video was done cheap, and it looked like it was done that way on purpose. Daniel seemed to be wearing his influences right out in the open in an Aqua Teen Hunger Force shirt and a well-placed Tim-and-Eric-y "Great job!"

It reminded me a lot of old Wondershowzen, which kind of got to me, until I did a quick search through his videos to see that he can do something different if he wants to and has worked comedy from a number of different angles and any number of syles. Fix it With Eayes might not be Kibblesmith's best work, but it's a slick video and still good for a laugh after a few viewings.

WE'REWOLVES

It probably sucks to be the We'rewolves while Canada's We Are Wolves are running around making it big and stealing your thunder, but these kids didn't seem to mind. They were a great dancepunk act with dance songs about dancing and punk songs about punks and ended with a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival that just drove kids crazy, even after the singer, realized along with the rest of us that he had no idea what the lyrics were after the first chorus. Also, they all look like they're twelve and may very need rides to the train or the suburbs if they want to see their comrades in style Screamin Cyn Cyn and the Pons.

stellab rat gets his groove back

The Little Flower Shoppe doesn't look any different than it ever did. It looks like a run down old greenhouse that would be caked with dirt even if it hadn't been being used as a place to throw dance parties and punk shows. I was there for a party a few weeks back. Houseband MEAH! was playing with an ass-boring metal band and a DJ was playing comfort food hip hop and hipster electro tracks.

MEAH! is a really good band. You couldn't tell that from the front of the room, which was as much a dance floor as it was a mosh pit, with wiggling motherfuckers tossing their hands up to propel a crowdsurfer into the air. From that vantage point, MEAH! sounded like a garage band that had more ambition than they could afford, but outside, in the backyard, where all the guys were sent to pee, the walls and siding served to muffle the fuzz and the feedback, and what came through was beautiful. The complexities that were hinted at inside all untangled themselves and became clear. There was that hint of prog that comes through in the punk of You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, but less pretensious. The band reminded me of a jokey At the Drive In, lead by Heckle and Jeckle instead of Omar A Rodriguez Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala.

Maybe it wasn't all the band. It was a beautiful, calm Saturday night in Pilsen. Everything was covered with unsullied white snow, and the beer was free.

That was what was different about the night. There was free beer, some of it courtesy of Pabst and the rest furnished by the house, and there was free hummus and falafel from Sultan's Market, and a raffle with prizes that weren't retarded. These kids who've been sitting in the space for years, who'd thrown parties with Skyler Mendoza, shows with Bloodyminded, and at least one hacker convergence had gotten their asses officially sponsored.

It's been about six months since I'd written in this blog. Part of it was working a full time job leaving me too tired to write about the shows I've been to, and part that I was just rehashing the same shit.

Maybe six months is enough to watch the face of the underground change, not entirely but enough. Reliable hotspots like Reversible Eye and Walnut/Wolcott aren't doing shows anymore and places like the Blog Cabin and Huevos Ranchos are both under new management, but there are all sorts of new spots- The WOR Loft, The Halfway House, Fuck Mountain, The Private I, and the new Burkhart Underground, just to name a few. Parsley Flakes make dance music out of punk rock with a couple of antique synthesizers, while Civilized Man use thrift store Casios to provide a new wave backdrop for their falsetto operas, and, in other synthesizer news, the winds have shifted and Clique Talk has replaced Mayor Daley as the Chicago band most likely to succeed.

Something else that is new is........

After a good ten year run, I threw a shitty party.

Everything went wrong at the show tonight. A band dropped out at the last minute, and that was all it took to transform it from a pretty tight lineup to something sparse. On the bright side, this meant that I wouldn't have to pay a band that never thought to promote the show. On the less bright side, nobody got paid and, in fact, I owe money because next to nobody showed up.

I'm sure this is what impotence is like. I feel angry, sad, shocked, like I'm less me than I thought I was. I never thought my party dick wouldn't go hard, but tonight it didn't work, and I don't know what happened.

It's best not to think about it, about the massive promotions jag the artists and I went on, about the mad RSVP's the event got on various websites, about the awesome flyer I made, and for the super amazing bands and performers that were listed on it, and that's the show's saving grace. It wasn't everything it could have been, and moments were awkward, but the bands all kicked ass, none of them more than Yellow Cakes.

Yellow Cakes are a super poppy ghettotech duo consisting of two girls who are so hot, so stylish, and so new as a band, that I was absolutely shocked to see how tight their set was. Their songs were a mix between JJ Fad and Spank Rock, or maybe 2 Live Crew and Moldy Peaches, with a very Kid Sister-ish flow. There were songs about living room makeout parties and songs about dancing to make your tits shake and your pussy wet. It was fun ass party rap that I can't wait to see again, not to mention bump in one of my sets.

I know I've forgotten so much I intended to write to get just this far, but there's one other group I saw recently that's nothing like anything I've ever seen. The Image Front is a band consisting of three moonlighting DJs and a metal fucking guitar shredder. Their set at SmashandCrunch's Liars Club party last week started with the closest thing they were going to give to a ballad. A song that seemed to fit right in the space between Cheap Trick and Giorgio Moroder (which I'm guessing equals a ELO). After that, they became something that could only be described as aggro juke. With frontman Joe Vor-Tech growling, wtithing, and chanting things like "ho's don't know" over and over, the rest of the band was free to add flourishes of sirens, whistles and cowbelles like a live mashup of Rammstein and DJ Assault.

They were grating after a little while but not bad. Hell, most bands grate on me if they play for more than a few songs, but grating or not, at the very least, they were unique, which for better or worse is something good..