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.
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.
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]
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.
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.
Monday, March 31, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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..
Fela Kuti - Sorrow, Tears & Blood Dick Hyman - Flute Loop Gil-Scott Heron and Brian Jackson - Liberation (Red, Black, & Green)
Boots Collins - I'd Rather Be With You Adina Howard - Freak Like Me Bootsy Collins - Bootzilla
Stevie Wonder - Too High Professionals - Theme from Godfather Herbie Hancock - Bring Down the Birds Quincy Jones - They Call Me Mister Tibbs
Ike and Tina Turner - I'll Never Need More than This Bobby Bland - I Pity the Fool Royal Esquires - Ain't Gonna Run
Brother Jack McDuff - Gonna Hang Me Up a Sign James Brown - Hell Sly and the Family Stone - Runnin Away Little Sister - Stanga
Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings - When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle Amy Winehouse - Valerie Nicole Willis & the Soul Investigators - No One's Gonna Love You
Curtis Mayfield - Beautiful Brother of Mine Martha Reeves & the Vandellas - Nowhere to Run Marva Whitney - Things Got to Get Better
The Pharcyde - Runnin
Monday, November 19, 2007
Parliament - Night of the Thumposaurus People G&D - All 4 You Lynn Collins - Mama Feel Good The Dap Kings - Hard Night
Charles Pryor & the Power of Love - What They Doin David Ruffin - Blood Donors Needed Dave Lewis - Mmmm mmmm mmmm Blacknuss - Rising to the Top
Clyde McPhatter - A Lover's Question The Cleftones - Little Girl of Mine Dyke & the Blazers - Shot Gun Slim
Bobbi Humphrey - Jasper County Man
Yvonne Vernee - Just Like You Did Me Ann Peebles - You've Got the Papers, I've Got the Man Willie West - Fairchild Shirley Ellis with the Hutch Davie Orchestra & Chorus - The Real Nitty Gritty Marva Whitney - Unwind Yourself Charles Crawford - Fat and Funky The Soul Lifters - Hot, Funky, and Sweaty The Soul Stirrers - Why Am I Treated So Bad Soul Command - Hook & Sling
The Pace Setters - Freedom & Justice Professor Leit - We gotta get togethor Mombasa - African Hustle Lil Levair and the Fabulous Jades - Cold Heat Keb Darge - Mr. Machine Carleen & the Groovers - Can We Rap? Big Bo Thomas & the Arrows - How About It? Black Heat - Zimba Ku
Rasputin's Stash - Mr. Cool Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators - Feeling Free The Beginning of the End - Funky Nassau
Fontella Bass - Leave in the Hands Betty Wright - Clean Up Woman Booker T & the MGs - Melting Pot
Candi Staton - Best Thing You Ever Had Chet Ivey & His Fabulous Avengers - Don't Ever Change Charles Pryor & Power of Love - What They Doing Dennis Coffey & the Detroit Guitar Band - Scorpio Curtis Mayfield - Future Shock
Reggie Sadler - Raggedy Bag Sharon Jones - Hook & Sling Meets the Funky Superfly Scotty & the Ris-Tips - The Greasey Spoon
Arvo:
Erma Franklin - Piece of My Heart The Sol Reys - High Ride Part 1 Vontastics - Never Let Your Love Grow Cold Billy Butler - I'll Bet You Mamie Galore - Special Agent 34-24-38 JAmo Thomas - I Spy (For The FBI) Tom & Jerrio - Come On and Love Me The GAturs - Booger Man
WAR - ME and Baby Brother Louis Chachere - The Hen Pt 1 The Unemployed - They Won't Let Me Sam & Dave - I Thank You Charles Wright & The Watt's 103rd St Rhythm Band - What Can You Bring Me?
Bud Shank - I Am The Walrus Bobby Bryant - Happiness Is A Warm Gun Bill Cosby - Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band
Thelma Houston - Jumping Jack Flash Soulful Strings - Paint It Black Curtis Knight feat. Jimi Hendrix - (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction
Curtis Knight & The Squires feat. Jimi Hendrix - Get That Feeling
Special Thanks to Funky 16 Corners for their assistance in the beatles stuff and some other tracks in Arvo's set this evening.
[Nicole Willis & the Soul Investigators doing "If This Ain't Love (I Don't Knjow What Is)"]
Date: 7/9/07 Location: The Co-Prosperity Sphere Show: Select Media Festival with Brilliant Pebbles, Evolutionrevolution, OCDJ, and more Cost: $10 Suggested Things I missed to be there: Million $ Mano, Major Taylor, Vyle, the Cool Kids and pretty much everyone else who's ever opened for Flosstradamus at the URB 150 party at Lava; No Vinyl Allowed featuring Joe Vor-Tech, Mr. Automatic, and OneFiftyOne at the Velvet Elvis; David Diarreah and Cave at Heaven; On Parade:A Screenprinted Rock Poster Extraveganza at Clothes Optional; Star Muertos with Mr. Bobby, Rayaline, and Batgerms at the new Pilsen House Reason for Going: It was a spaceship... a motherfucking spaceship!
Ever since setting up shop in the Co-Prosperity Sphere, a big empty space in Bridgeport that once served as a neighborhood grocery store, the cats behind the Version and Select Media Festivals have shown themselves capable of putting up some truly impressive installation art. Earlier this year, they unveiled We're Rollin, They're Hatin, an exhibition of art inspired by the game Dungeons & Dragons for Version. There's really no way to describe how cool the exhibit was because there really isn't a way to seperate the the art, which included murals, shirts, and large scale statues, from the severely uncool source material it was steeped in. For this year's Select Festival, they've created CPS1: A Space Colony replete with control stations, robots, all variety of blacklit space debris, and a video journey to a party planet called Earth.
It was like some squatters had taken up residence in the outdated corners of the Museum of Science and Industry and thrown a party there. Unfortunately, as wonderul as the exhibits were, the party seemed lacking. It wasn't the acts. I mean, sure, Evolutionrevolution did everything to drive people away, but not too many people ledt. At the same time Brilliant Pebbles and OCDJ did everything they could to get people's asses moving, but the asses mostly just milled about, making them easy targets for the sticker bandit labeling everyone with insults, puns, and punny insults ("space douche", "space lame", "myspace", "personal space").
It might have been that the soundsystem was shit (which is rare for these kids), or that there were parties all over the place that didn't require Northside kids to move south of Grand Avenue, but it might have just been that the opening night of the Select Media Fest was (gasp) more of an art show than a party.
If that's the case it would've been fine by me. I snorted ketamine and drank rocketfuel in the ship's hull, fought with aliens, and simulated sex in the makeout room. It was a party for me, but, again, even if it wasn't, even if it was just a really cool art show, I probably would have been alright. The last month was full of parties. Parties that had no atmosphere but good music and a lot of heads (Hilary Rawk and Skyler's jam "Fierce" above Open End), parties that had great atmosphere but shitty music and sound (The Cobrasnake's "They Live" jam, with it's dayglo drag queen dancers and bloody suspension acts for goth thrill seekers at Das Butt), parties that had good music and good atmosphere but no heads (just about any party I played at), and parties where everything was wrong but were full of heads (Alexander Bassett's "The Deep", and just about every party Mr. Bobby threw at that stupid lumberyard).
I got a job this month, at a clothing store that may never actually open. All of my co-workers are DJs, possibly because the only people left in this city that aren't are my Mom and my sister. Either way, I'm sick of lackluster parties, I'm sick of dance music, and I'm really fucking sick of Chromeo.
Sure there were shows, but they didn't move me. LatinoFest should have been the best thing ever, but it came only a week after Apocalypticrust Fest and I had a better time chugging beer in the alley and talking shit than I did listeing to La Armada Roja. Same thing with the Blog Cabin's Halloween party, where the noise band Suddenly Susan reenacted their set getting shut down a week earlier at Sonotheque. Velcro Lewis played a set at the Cobra Lounge showcasing everything that was good about him and his 100 Proof Band, and everything that made them an obnoxious, novelty bar rock act.
I threw a couple shows. One went well and one didn't. My new monthly, All City Night, at Reggie's Live with DJ Demchuk co-hosting, was too heavy with DJs. Million $ Mano had everyone grinding up on each other at the end of the night, but everybody only consisted of a few handfuls of people. The Image Front, consisting of Joe Vor-Tech and Mr. Automatic were good but not so dancey, with a mix of left-field mashups that was often hilarious, and Skyler's disco would have been the perfect opener to a better show, but as it was, it was mostly relegated to background music. The highlight of the show, that made sure everyone left happy, and feeling like the show was as different and fun as we'd intended it to be, was the BR Trio, a jazz trio that played ragtime covers of The Dead Kennedys and the Misfits, and old-timey music so bawdy it would have made R. Crumb's band blush.
The other show was Windy City Soul at the Darkroom, a celebration of Two Slaps Radio's first anniversary. We were billing the show as a "sophisticated soul party" and despite the technical problems that made the first hour hellish for me, Arvo, and the sound guy. The show was everything it was supposed to be by the time real people showed up. Harlet Star played a set of Def Poetry Style hip hop, with a heavy jazz-soul fusion base and a little chick who could blow Aretha Franklin's ass out with her singing voice. It reminded me of one of those children's sports movies, Rookie of the Year or The Mighty Ducks or some shit where there was always some kid who was incredibly, superhumanly powerful but had no control (I'm embarassed to say it, but my geek-geek double geek ass is specifically thinking of the black kid with the "knucklepuck" in D2: The Mighty Ducks)... her voice was so strong that sometimes it got away from her, but overall it was a good thing. The Revelettes came out between bands to do a throwback go-go dance set, replete with big hair, short skirts, tall boots, and costume changes that brought out more short skirts and tall boots. I'd never taken into account how slick the atmosphere of the Darkroom was because I'd mostly just been there for hipster shit, but it was really smooth. The last band up was JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound, a soul band with an iconoclastic lead singer who channeled James Brown into call-and-response songs about how the Chicago Transit Authority s fucking us over.
Out of the whole month, there were only two things that relly impressed me. The first was Puppet Night over at the Heart of Gold loft in Lincoln Park. I almost didn't go because it was starting on the early side and I was pretty depressed but I figured that if puppets couldn't cheer me up, then nothing could. They did. A cat named Dax sang a beautiful song, an ode to a pirates freedom, loneliness and regret as he assembled a cardboard sailboat from pieces of junk in his suitcase and pushed it across the room. Le Cat Show, a show about the idle rich, their disgruntled workers, and the words pussy, kitty and cat being used interchangeably both literally and as innuendo, premiered 6 months ago in an earlier draft that that may very well have been the most annoying thing I've ever seen (just ahead of Evolutionrevolution at Co-Prosperity and just behind My So-Called Lice at the Fireside Bowl years ago). Since then, they have molded it into something that resembled an Edgar Allen Poe piece as interpreted by the cast of The State. The show ended with a muppet-like handpuppet talking about the process of breeding cows in captivity, that ended with the bird muppet ejaculating turrets of silly string all over his human counterpart. You'll have to take my word that this was less stupid and much funnier than it sounds, or has any right to be.
The other great show was Hallectroween at Subterranean. It was a twist of that time-honored tradition of bands playing as other bands for Halloween, but instead of Local H playing Cheap Trick, or Bibe of the Devil playing Local H, it had a bunch of poppy/punky electro acts playing German electro legends in all of their fascistic glory, including Beau Wanzer and Rolan Vega as Front 242, Detroit artist Goudron as Gary Numan, and Schiller Park's J+J+J who blew everyone away as Kraftwerk, tossing out dozens of red shirts silkscreened with skinny ties, blasting us strobes and flashing LCDs and playing amped up, sped up, house influenced covers of "The Model", "Radioactivity", and "Trans Europe Express".
This show was the perfect marriage of style and substance, sound and atmosphere and I was surprised to see it happen at Subterranean on a Sunday night. Still, I'm glad it did, it made my whole goddamned month.
[Brilliant Pebbles playing the Co-Prosperity Sphere earlier this year]
The Delfonics - Walk Right up to the sun Sly & The Family Stone - (You Caught Me) Smilin' The O'Jays - BackStabbers Rahsaan Roland Kirk - Ain't No Sunshine Altyrone Deno Brown - Sweet Pea
Sharon Jones - I Got The Feeling (James Brown) John Williams & The Tick Tocks - A Little Tighter Artistics - This Heart of Mine Lon Rogers & The Soul Brothers - Too Good To Be True Bob & Fred - I'll Be On My Way Mitchell Mitchell - Gene King - Never Walk Out On You
Lee Fields - Take it or leave it The Watts 103rd St. Rhythm Band - Spreadin Honey
The Chi-Lites - Are You My Woman? (Tell Me So) Mary Wells - The One Who Really Loves You Rufus Thomas - The Memphis Train
OV Wright - Motherless Child Ray Charles - You'll Never Walk Alone Huey 'Piano' Smith & the Clowns-
Irma Thomas - Time Is On My Side Ruth Copeland & Funkadelic - Gimme Shelter Booker T & The MG's - Outrage
Otis Redding - Satisfaction Chuck Berry - Too Much Monkey Business Bosco's Billionaires - Freddy's Ribs Willie Hightower - If I Had A Hammer
War - The World is a Ghetto La Charanga '76 - Ain't No Stopping Us Now
Gnarls Barkley - Boogie Monster Chicago Afrobeat Project - Superstar Pt. 7
Bobby 'Boris' Picket - Monster Mash L. Hollis & the Mackadoos - Bui Bui
Funkadelic - Maggot Brain
Jumpin' Gene Simmmons - Haunted House Screamin' Jay Hawkins - I put a spell on you The Poppy Family - Where Evil Grows Fabienne Delsol - I'm Gonna Haunt You Gloria Jones - Tainted Love Lavern Baker - Voodoo Voodoo Charles Sheffield - It's Your Voodoo Workin'
Johnny Otis Show - Castin' My Spell The Beattle-ettes - Seventeen Louis Farrakahn - Zombie Jamboree The Bootles - I'll let you hold my hand The FAbulous Brothers - Run For Cover (Dells)
Shirley Bassey - Light My Fire Dave and Ansil Collins - Double Barrell
Soul Unlimited - Raving Vampire, Pt. 1 Kermit Ruffins - Drop Me Off In New Orleans Marie Queen Lions - Fever
JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound - Baltimore is the New Brooklyn The Rebirth Brass Band - I Feel Like Funkin It Up
The Fresh Prince and Dj Jazzy Jeff - Nightmare on My Street The Fat Boys - Are YOu Ready For Freddy?
Dawn Silva And The Brides of Funkenstein - Whole Lotta Game Ruth Copeland & Funkadelic - Gimme Shelter The What Four - I'm Gonna Destroy That Boy
Sugar Pie DeSanto - I Want To Know Irma Thomas - Don't Look Down Barbara Stephens - Wait A Minute Ruby Andrews - Everybody Saw You Helen Shipiro - Stop & You'll Be Aware Little Eva - You've Been Talkin' bout me Baby Earnestine Eady - The Change Major Lance - Cryin' In The Rain Roosevelt Grier - In My Tenement Rita & The Tiaras - Gone With The Wind Is My Love Marie Knight - That's No Way To Treat a Girl Jackson 5 - I Want You Back (Z Trip Remix)
The Explosions - Hip Drop The Artistics - Leave It Up to You 24 Carat Black - 24 Carat Black
Curtis Mayfield - Live Frank Penn - Gimme Some Skin
Betty Davis - F.U.N.K. Yvonne Fair - Funky Music Sho 'nuff Turns Me On Little Sister - Stanga Isis - April Fool
Ten Wheel Drive w/ Genya Ravan - Ain't Gonna Happen Sweet Linda Divine - I'll Say It Again Ruth Copeland & Funkadelic - Gimme Shelter
Clarence Carter - Snatching It Back Eddie Floyd - Good Love, Bad Love
The Temptations - Since I Lost My Baby Sweet Breeze - Good Thing
Thomas Bailey & the Flintstones Band - The Flintstones Shuffle War - Slippin Into Darkness The Philadelphia All Stars - Let's Clean Up the Ghetto Funkadelic - TV promo for Funkentelechy
Friday, October 19, 2007
It's Saturday morning. Glass Candy is playing at Debonair. Digitalism is playing at Smart Bar. Meneguar and Parsley Flakes are probably already finished over at PeopleProjects, ditto Suffering Bastard and TwoDeadSlutsOneGoodFuck over at Mister City. Me? I'm smokin' a hookah in my parents basement, watching an awesome documentary about Klaus Nomi.
It's Sunday morning. I'm watching "Shaun of the Dead". I guess five pm doesn't technically count as morning, but it's Halloweekend, and I've only been up a few hours, I got a job this month, putting up a clothing store on Belmont. With this, coupled with my two days at Reckless and my two weeks at Feed, I will have completed the trilogy of hipster jobs. Hopefully I can keep this one though. Right now I'm working six days a week, and I've been prioritizing going to shows and parties, more than writing about them.
Here are a few tidbits
Cobrasnake Presents Fierce Velcro Lewis Latino Fest Be Are Trio Begotten March Fourth
Location: Museum of Contemporary Art Date: 10/9/07 Bands: Califone, The 1900s, The Eternals, Flosstradamus with the Cool Kids Cost: FREE! Drinks: $4 312 Things I missed to be there: The John Cage Musicircus at the Cultural Center; The Watson Twins at the Empty Bottle; Lovers in Arms and Phillip Morris at the Beat Kitchen Reason for going: I really wanted to see Flosstradamus and the Eternals after missing them repeatedly. One out of two ain't bad
We're standing on that island off the Magnificent Mile where all the horse carriages rest. Dan's skateboard screeches and grinds to a stop when we come across a familiar face. A very blunted familiar face.
"Where y'all comin from?" "They just had a show at the museum." "Who played?" "Flosstradamus and the Cool Kids." "Rock shit?" "Naw dude, hip hop." "They hip hop or they rap?" "A little of both. Club shit." "What they name is? Cool Kids?" "Yeah." "They black?" "Yeah." "You sure they black?" "Yeah." "I don't know man. Not with a name like the Cool Kids."
I was actually disappointed with the Cool Kids, and how much more rap they were then hip hop. Coming up after a frenzied Flosstradamus set, the Cool Kids came off as low energy. The music was just slow, and the vocals weren't mixed well. It was a hot day, hot enough that we had athletes dying on the street, and I chose to excuse myself and try to see some of the air conditioned Rock/Art exhibit, rather than wait for them to pick up the tempo. They did, of course, with more remix-heavy material that had a stagediving Hollywood Holt getting passed through a sweaty crowd and pumped fists from any hand that wasn't being used to prop him up.
The event was thrown in conjunction with the MCA's fortieth anniversary celebration(s), and their Rock/Art show, an exhibit so bright, loud, and flashy it would give Andy Warhol a seizure...or an orgasm. The party was thrown by the cats who started the Intonation Festival, and opened up the floodgates for all those stupid outdoor indie festivals that piss me off all summer. The way I heard it, they cancelled this year's fest (which was rumored to be featuring Yoko Ono and M.I.A., who ended up performing at Pitchfork and Lollapalooza, respectively) because of money, but the way they play it on their myspace, they didn't want to do it because everyone else was.
This made more sense anyway. Chicago bands playing for Chicagoans for free. The only thing that would have made it better was a later starting time. If I tried harder, I could have gotten there in time for the Eternals, who veer wildly from dance to noise, in a way very reminiscent of Indian Jewelry, but as it was I got there just in time for their last jam. I assume though, that this show wasn't for me. It seemed like every motherfucker I knew was out and about but it wasn't for them either, in the same way that the festival wasn't for me. It was a treat for people who don't get out much, who haven't been missing Flosstradamus parties or Schubas upstairs residencies because they had other shit to go to, but because they had kids or grown folks jobs that wouldn't allow it. I had a good time though. It was a novelty to get sweaty dancey like that with the sun bearing down, and something most people can't pull off (which may account for the hits-heavy Flosstradamus set in all of its ecumenical Kanye, Jay-Z, Daft Punk goodness).
The MCA has thrown a lot of good events over the years, but this was the closest I've felt to how I did back in 2001, when they threw the last of their 24-hour summer solstice parties.
