the handsome furs r really nice. crocodiles? not so much.

yesterday was the most super fun i've had in the city in as long as i can remember. although it was a rough start (post drinking blues, down in the dumps for this and that), a phonecall to mi madre and some classic kitty cuddle action helped me turn that frown upside down--or at least flatlined. once i met up with sarah and her friend at division street, however, shit began. we arrived just in time to catchy the light, upbeat summery sounds of pop duo viva voce. i recognized some older tracks (haven't heard new album yet, but hear it's supposed to be pretty dec). girly harmony sugar vox, casual worry-free guitar--it was the perfect soundtrack for sitting on a gritty, dirty curb in a nail salon parking lot while chomping on some jerk chicken kabob. it was officially, dare i say it, summer time. and i loved it.

after we snagged our obligatory $2 pbrs, it was off to the main stage for the handsome furs--who killed it, as usual. dan and alexei were up to their usual lively antics, kicking, flailing, rocking out. they stuck to their norm set list, with a new track at the end--busting out evangeline, i'm confused, legal tender, talking arbat hotel blues, etc etc. they were smiling. kissing. leaping. sweating. so fun.

stuck around for the dance party of the night, flosstradamus as the headliners of division's ball. they opened shit up a bit later than usual, but kicked it off with an interesting blend of daft punk's "around the world" and animal collective's "my girls." fucking rad. they kept it going on with some oldie 80/90 dance hits and the crowd was eating it up. i purchased a heniken silo and peer pressured my friend into stealing a used party cup we observed an old man with a mustache throw into the garbage can. she wanted sum beer. but you see, she had a cold and i was not about to get them germs. she liked it. really. we danced. boogied. got down. i love me some floss. chicago hip hop/dance party represent.

sarah and i thus parted ways as i headed down the block to my fave fave fave chi venue, empty bottle to check crocodiles and holy fuck tear shit apart. crocodiles, while they sounded pretty solid backed with their drum machine and solo guitar, gotta say failed to wow me. while i was rather intoxicated at this point, and i was def utilizing my dancing shoes, looking back on it, it was really just two severely skinny ironic hipsters, sporting sunglasses in the dark, dancing like total tools. wiggling. bending. like a stretch armstrong doll in a blender on crack. and they totally thought they were THE shit.

after holy fuck finally started, i made my way back to the bar for my $5 pbr/jim bean shot and liquid couraged up to chat with dan and alexei from handsome furs who stopped by to check the show. noone was talking to them and they were just chilling, drinking some sweet old blue ribbon. i honestly can't recall all the details of our convo, but i do remember they were the most genuinely nice people i've ever met in a band. seriously. they didn't seem uncomfortable or taken back, put off that this drunk girl with red lipstick was talking their ears off. they laughed at my dumb jokes and told me stories about the road, where they were partying in chi and about past tour dates/festival experiences. they asked if i caught the crocodiles, and i gave them my honest recap. "they were good and all, but really really faggy. who wears sunglasses in the dark? they were really faggy dancers." this got me a laugh, and i laughed as well. until i turned to my direct left and saw the two piercing glares in my direction from who else? the dudes from crocodiles. woops. i shook hands with dan and alexei, got an email address for a MoB 5 Q's feature and congratulated the crocs on a great set. these guys were not nice. i'm still not entirely sure they heard my faggy comment, and honestly i could care less if they did or not. these dudes were pretentious as shit. i made a crack about how i was still mad at them for standing me up on their free music monday date at eb when they were picked up on the faint/ladytron tour and i just got another glassy glare. oook. well, nice meeting you dudes. i got an email for another 5Qs feature, but have a suspicion that email will remain unanswered. well, good luck to you with your drum machine and wiggle moves dudes. hey, jesus mary chain called and they want their song back. gay.

after that, more holy fuck. not too knowledged about these dudes, and the whiskey nicole and i kept slurping made the remainder of the evening a bit of a blur, but i know i boogied. i recall some ms pacman interludes. the tunes were ambient, a little more cohesive than animal collective, but along the same lines of the whole experimental instrumentation sampler trend. i looked back thru some old emails and found the link to their 2007 release LP and revisitied it. i like it. i also bought a super rad tshirt with their cowboy cat. how could i pass up a pink shirt with a kitty sporting a cowboy hat that says holy fuck? i mean, cmon.

anyway. the weekend of may 29-31 has proven to be a success in jodi discovering new music. way delayed, i finally picked up doomtree's 2008 release. i am a fucking idiot. this album is the shit and i deserve the year i lacked of having it as punishment. i love me some p.o.s. dessa. sims. etc etc etc. fun shit. i also dl'd the new noisettes record which is def more listener friendly than their 07 release. less abrasive, but still packed full of delicate melodies, rough soul and a little bit of sass. i got about half the phoenix album--what the hell, everyone's been discussing the leak of wolfgang amadeus phoenix for months now and i seem to be the only soul on the planet who wasn't able to attain the zip/rar file. dumb. i know, i know, i should buy it. and i probably will. but not this week, thanks to the abundance of whiskey last evening. a friend burned me metric's latest and hooked me up with some old skool ghostface. that's also been on repeat on the ole iPod-aroni. lots of music in this girl's bedroom. lots of kitty cuddling. lots of naps. i'm ambitious, obviously.

well here it's 11:00 pm and i gots to get up at 5:30 to get into the office at 7;15. i should prob try to turn in with my book and get some shut eye. but i can't stop the rock. looking forward to tour de wisconsin this weekend. 4-day work week, here i come.

ahhh. i guess i'm getting old?

holy crap. so i finally was like, ok, you're 26, whatever. no big deal. go get yer drink on with your girls and just lay in bed watching roseanne, eating junkfood, see some friends, go check some shows, spend tons of cash money on crap you don't need, cool. getting older is whatever. it's not like 26 is the age to get hitched and pop out pups or grow up or anything.

or is it? it's a sad world i live in when i find out my former bff from college yeerz popped out a kid from her husband's facebook page. and other pals i was supposed to see in our sister state up yonder minnesnowta blow off my msgs when we were super tight girly friends back in the days of hs, dells, college, whatever. i get it, we grow apart. time passes, people change. blah blah blah.

but here i am, wondering if i'm the one who's super smart or the one who really will be the disgruntled cat ma'arm. i mean, husband? kids? HAHAHAHAHA. i can't even score a real date. i'm too busy reapplying lipgloss and making fun of people in my head whenever i do make it out to even notice if there are any potential contenders out there in that "real world". but is the real world really the dirty hipster bar scene? am i supposed to find my prince scumbag at a dirty sweaty rock show? doubt it. do i even really want a male friend? do i really even dream about that ideal social standard of hypocritical never never land? not. really. . .

hell, my bedroom still boasts several band posters. unframed. dirty clothes crumpled in the corner. bras hanging from doorknobs. clothing tags scattered on the floor. cattoys in my bed. lipstick smeared pillowcases. waffles for dinner. lil wayne blaring on my ipod station. lipstick without a cap on my dresser. expired cta cards. it just bewilders me when i visit old friends and see how domestic and "grown up" they've become. here, my former peers who would gleefully swig back mike's hards illegally or throw back pitchers of milwaukee's beast during powerhours, are now baby in tow. wedding bands. crate and barrel. town cars. subarus. no wonder they don't want to call me back. i'm here, 26, still throwing back the pitchers (although i have progressed up to pbr from said beast, and i'm way past the days of mikes' hard, these days it's all about the sparks/joose rage, obvs). i still dress like i'm "forever" 21. and i don't think i'll ever outgrow my love for plastic, bright jelly jewelry. i seriously will never get hitched--unless dude pops the q with a ringpop and maybe busts out a freestyle. or is christian bale. (i didn't use to find him so appealing, but dude was pretty tough in terminator).

i'm listening to the new tori amos album right now. my pal quinn bought it for me. it sounds like tori's grown up a bit too, but it's ok. tori still takes me back on a nostalgia trip back to 7th grade when i was just beginning my days as an artificial redhead (only auburn prior to age 12), angry at boys and wondering when my life was going to start kicking ass. well, it's 14 years later and the only things that have changed is that i'm now in chicago vs argyle--which i spose is an upgrade, kinda.

aga blah. ok. i was going to go check the fader open bar fiesta tonite at evil olive, but after thinking it over what would getting wasted (albeit free), really accomplish for me on this weds? i've only had one day of work all week, and i'm already spent. i think i had all the fun my lil bod can afford last night after the racaucous dance party with the yeah yeah yeahs.

at least i know i'm cool. even if i'm not responsible or a real grown up grown up. i'm ok with drinking out of juice boxes and laughing at kitties for the rest of my days. at least i've got the knowledge knowing that i get me, even if nobody else does.

with that, i conclude my ramble. it's time to switch things up to some ghostface and read me some books. . . wishing it was the wknd for division street. . .

Karen O = Best Bday Present EVER!!!!

It was a very big happy birthday to me last night as I joined countless others in the dance party of 2009 at Uptown’s Aragon Theatre. I celebrated my 26th alongside super goddess Karen O, guitar mastermind Nick Zinner and percussion madman Brian Chase—dancing til I screamed myself hoarse and sweat every out every last ounce of life I had left in me. The one and only Yeah Yeah Yeahs kicked off their nation-wide tour in support of It’s Blitz! last evening in Chicago, and you may as well stop reading this review now and just go buy your ticket for the closest stop to your city now—I mean it. God damn incredible.

I was previously borderline dreading this set. Don’t get me wrong, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are my most beloved band ever—even with my initial reaction of caution to the calmer sounds of It’s Blitz!, I am still 100% devoted to this thrashtastic rock trio—but I am, or at least was, definitely not a fan of The Aragon Theatre. Formerly a ballroom, the acoustics in this hall have always been echoic, with feedback and sound difficulties always mucking up whatever headliner was trying to rock it out. But not last night, oh no. Nothing could stop the rock, the glamour, the almighty beings that hail themselves, “Bigger than the Sound.”

The YYY’s stepped to the stage around 8:45, to thunderous, crazy ass applause. Backed by a giant deep violet glittery spiral, Karen O kept her reputation as indie rock’s most trend-pushing rock gem, rocking some bitchin’ yellow purple zebra tights and a crazy ass eyeball patterned kimono, which transitioned cloth hula hoop accessories, a hoodie and of course, a leotard. Bitch looked hot. Glowing amber lights illuminated through the fog, catching the shimmer of the glitter stage set, as Y shaped confetti shot through the shadows to the crowd. And this was just the beginning.

YYY kicked it off with a gentle, yet epic rendition of It’s Blitz!’s “Runaway.” Gorgeous and intimate, the song served as a perfect calm before the storm—kicking next into Fever to Tell’s raunchy grit theme, “Black Tongue.” Let me tell you, there is nothing more liberating and empowering than screaming “Boy you’re just a stupid bitch and girl you’re just a no good dick,” at the top of your lungs on your birthday. And I was definitely not the only one. The crowd went shitastic as Karen writhed, moaned and screamed. Zinner killed it on the guitar. Shit was sharp.

Next up to bat was the Cramps’ cover “Human Fly,” which was my first time catching and Fever to Tell’s album-title proclaiming, “Man.” Nothing could beat the next triple whammy, however, as YYY busted out the incredulous slow start build-up dance party demand “Dull Life,” wringing into Show Your Bones’ crowd clappy intro “Gold Lion,” (complete with crowd participating chorus Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo!’s), and then moving up to my all-time favorite “Cheated Hearts”—in which Karen O made good on her promise of “take-a, take-a, take-a, take-a takin’ it off,” stripping down to her leotard, proclaiming to being “bigger than the sound,” when in actuality, pretty much being bigger than life—wowing the masses in the eager crowd.

Slowing things down next, the trio glowed in the dark, (or at least Karen’s facial accessories did), playing what seemed like the coolest high school dance soundtrack ever—two of the new agey numbers from It’s Blitz!—“Skeletons” and “Soft Shock,” which totally evoked some 80’s neo flash back vibes. After giving the crowd a chance to catch their breaths and get their heart beats back to a normal rate, YYY ramped it back up with a crowd stomping, immediate and urgent rendition of “Honeybear.”But as if the yelping and pouncing wasn’t enough to get everyone hyped up, a familiar Pavlov-like jittery keyboard intro took the masses into oblivion—teasing for what everyone knew was next. When Karen O pranced out in the leather, forget about it. Confetti once again blasted the crowd as we prepared our shaking ladders to the sun, and joined our beloved rock goddess on her journey through an energetic, uncontrollable performance of “Zero.”

Needless to say, this party was bangin’. The beats were sharp and everything was slick as if we were listening to the albums on full blast versus a live performance. Think HD for your speakers. Dancing was insane. Miss O smiled to the crowd upon completion, thanking Chicago as one of her favorite crowds and dedicating “The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ love song—L-O-V-E, Love!” to all in attendance—which unsurprisingly, was “Maps”—the acoustic, slowed down rendition. Delicate and breathy, Karen crooned as Zinner strummed the acoustic guitar, leading the crowd in an intimate sing-along. I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever heard such loud applause in a single building before as what followed.

Just when I didn’t think it could get any better, Zinner and Chase kicked in with the undeniable manic opening chords of “Y Control.” Total madness ensued. Karen O sprayed mouthfuls of water between her growls and shrieks. The crowd leapt up and down as if to reach salvation. Zinner shredded electric insanity. Thrashing of percussion blended the whole soundgasm to a mix. Then with a curtsy, they were gone. Stampeding, wild, roaring cheers and some Yeah-Yeah-Yeah! chanting followed and eventually Karen and Co. returned, with Miss O sporting a creepy plastic pink wrestling mask, swirled into some punk bondage spiral. This is when we got our real treat—the encore brought the madness of dance anthem “Heads will Roll,” oldie “Art Star,”—sans creepy face mask, but instead, with a towel-draped to support Karen’s deepthroating of the mic; and finally FTT’s orgasmic “Date with the Night.” Sweat, smiles, and lots of “Oh my god’s,” concluded the evening, and it was definitely one helluva happy birthday to me.


Set list:

Runaway
Black Tongue
Human Fly
Man
Dull Life
Gold Lion
Cheated Hearts
Skeletons
Soft Shock
Honeybear
Zero
Maps
Y Control
Encore 1: Heads will Roll
Encore 2: Art Star
Encore 3: Date with the Night

My First Negative Review!!

I got the dishonor of being Lady Sovereign's beer pad last night at the Metro. Fuck that bitch. From Muzzle of Bees. . .

I’ve always been a sucker for catchy, upbeat hip hop infused dance rhymes—if a female led the action, even better. Girl power, right? Well maybe in some cases, but then again, maybe not. Last night, I definitely realized how old I am and that girl power may not necessarily be my bag after all. Back in ’06, Lady Sovereign dropped her Def Jam debut, “Public Warning.” With such dance happy beats like “9 to 5,” “Love Me or Hate Me” and “Hoodie,” I thought she was for sure the next big craze. I remember (albeit vaguely) catching Sov spit and grind at her last Metro appearance when I was a newcomer to the Windy City back in fall of 2007. I smiled, I bounced, I danced and kept leaping to catch a glimpse of the trademarked side-pony shawty drop her shit. I was pretty intoxicated—but I also had a blast.

Fast forward to 2009. It wasn’t until I caught a glimpse of Miss Sovereign in Austin this past SXSW, slamming cocktails to the front side of the Fader Fort stage that I remembered her. She had a new album? I did my homework, (thanks, Stereogum), and saw, yes, Sov was dropping her second US release in April, “Jigsaw.” The singles were catchy, although not of the same spunk and flair as her previous work, but I gave them chances and threw them on the Jodi soundtrack anyway. “I Got You Dancing” was a solid enough attempt, and even though she was really cutting it close with the barely acceptable/blasphemy of sampling the classic Cure hit “Close to Me” in “So Human,” I gave her the benefit of the doubt anyway. “Let’s be Mates” is kinda fun and the title track “Jigsaw” may be as cheesy as all get out, (“My heart is like a jigsaw puzzle, pick it up and fix it for me, Can you figure it out?”), but whatever tracks like “Bang Bang” and “I Got You Dancing” bring back classic Sov flavor and it’s a good enough time. Or at least so I thought.

I made it just in time for Miss Sovereign’s set which kicked off at 9:45, following sets from Chester French (who covered No Doubt’s “Hella Good,” whoa, whatever happened to that song?) and Chicago’s shortest MC, Hollywood Holt. Lady Sovereign took the stage following an entertaining DJ set from Chicago native, Annalyze. (I’m still having trouble getting over the fact that at 26 years old, I still have the words from Salt-N-Peppa’s “Shoop” memorized—kind of disturbing to think back to my 6th grade rollerblading days at recess, shouting out “I wanna know, how does it hang?” But Annalyze killed it!).

Sov strutted to the masses, grabbed the mic and instantly ripped its stand from its place and threw it carelessly to the side of the stage. Make your statement, girlfriend, you just don’t care! It was fun enough at first when she busted out an energetic rendition of “Let’s Be Mates,” shriek-growling her best feral panther impression in its chorus. When she jumped into “I Got You Dancing,” I’ll admit, I did start getting my groove to her beats—up in the photo pit, snapping away I appeared to be the only member of the media who was there by choice—actually enjoying myself. That is, until Miss Sovereign took to pouring her Heineken on my hair and camera. Umm, excuse me? We all know about her love for the sickly green bottled beer as pledged time and time again in her staple hit “Love Me or Hate Me,” but I thought the intention of swigging brews on stage was to actually drink it—not to douse the crowd with it. I let the first time pass and dried my cam off on my jacket. When Sov busted into the energetic crowd pleaser “Random,” she decided to treat me to my second shower—not any of the males in the photo pit, mind you, just yours truly. I’d had enough.

At this point I was going to suck it up, jot the notes from her set list and call it a night. Following “Random,” Sov almost redeemed herself by graciously giving props to Chicago, saying how much she “loves fucking playing here, the first place (she) played in America.” But this transitioned into what Sov referred to as the “cheesy paht of the show—I’m gonna get all pussy now,” in which she repeatedly giggled and said the word “pussy”. Ok. She played “Pennies,” from the new album, followed that up with a Metro Station cover, “Shake It,” which even as disgruntled as I was, still enjoyed with its bouncy synth-pop action. Next was “Jigsaw,” in which she thanked Chicago again and mentioned, “I’m trying out this singing thing—I kinda like it,” but then followed up, again, something about “sounding like a pussy.” Ok, we got it, you’re vulgar and edgy. OMG.

Nothing could beat the next joint she busted out—the popular single, “So Human.” My
favorite part was when she forgot the words to her own first verse and tried to cover it up, sloshing her Heineken around some more, bleating “Leh Leh Leh La” prior to the chorus of “I’m so human, you’re so gay.” Ok. This is a wake-up call—why was I here again? At least my friend who wasn’t soaked in beer seemed to enjoy herself, but I learned a lesson last night. Either come severely intoxicated like the raver chick next to me, who had no qualms getting down to the remaining four songs played—(“Bang Bang,” “Love Me or Hate Me,” “Student Union”—which sounded with her accent like “shoot it, eat it,” and “Public Warning”), or just stay home next time and listen to the CD instead. For an artist that has released two full length albums, I was surprised (but not too disappointed in this case), that the entire length of Lady Sovereign’s set timed out at a whopping 50 minutes. She didn’t even play “Hoodie,” WTF.

If you’re into bratty English teenage girl rappers, who “can’t down ‘em like I used to,” then I guess you’d probably enjoy a Lady Sovereign show. Maybe I’m biased based on my complimentary skunk-ale showers, but I know I have now officially closed the chapter of my girl-grime days of Sovereign.

I woulda been one hella street 11 year old white girl.

If I had realized how saddening it was to lose biggie when he died. I was all excited to relax tonight, get my crochet basket on the couch, curl up with the kitties and watch Notorious. Instead, I found myself tear stained, eyeball to eyeball with one confused kitty wondering why I was crying in the midst of some gangsta rap. And one roommate who thought I was downright retarded. Well, goddamnit, I don't care what anyone says, Notorious was a goddamn tearjerker. Did I really think that my back-to-back dvd nights on the couch consisting of The Wrestler and Notorious would result in more tears than 16 Candles or The Breakfast Club? (I know, I'm weird, those are my tearjerkers--probably bc I can relate to being the weird redhead alternative girl in highschool, but 10 years later now I'm realizing how jipped I really was in highschool--I'm still waiting on my goddamn Jake Ryan to pull up in his red sports car or Judd Nelson to accept my diamond (plastic from claire's mind you, im no baller) stud earring in his cusped glove hand. . . .Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Ok, anyway. I am over the whole biggie smallz and mickey rourke biznass now, but i am for realz feeling me some massive kid cudi lately. I DL'd some addtl tracks other than Day N Nite--while that's one helluva track, The Prayer, I Poke Her Face and The Sky Might Fall are fucking off the hook. Seriously, mark my words. This kid will be huge this year. He's gorgeous as hell, can flow like no other and I don't care if he wants to be degrading as fuck, he can poke my face all he wants as long as I get to sway to those fly ass beats. Shit.

Also, while I'm on my hiphop post here, check out the new free Cool Kids mixtape--I haven't had a chance to check it yet, but these Chi boiz are pretty dope so i'm sure its hella fly--check it here: http://www.coolxkids.com/

On that note, I'm off to my bedroom to continue my nightly angst session with my Elliott Smith discography and one ratty ass teddy bear.

I be so gangsta.