hey miss sappypants, knock it off

dudes. i am in some sort of hella weird funk today. been feeling kinda shady and off kilter all day, no instigators, no upsetting events, nada. everything's been same old, fly ass fun chicago summer. but today. . .

well, work's been the same old but that's no biggie. my emotions have been put on hold for a while and maybe they're just drained and in need of a good recharging, who knows. but i bailed on volleyball tonight to come straight home after work and just veg out solo for a night, get back to my me time since it's been a while since i've had a quality date night with myself. so i made some green tea (sticking away from pomegranate after my styro cup at work exploded all over my shirt earlier today, that was fun. . .). took one of my calm me down anxiety pills. cuddled with some cats. and popped in chronicles of narnia sequel, prince caspian.

and jesus. not only is prince caspian smoking hot (took away attention from the cute underager peter at least), but i frickin teared up at the end. it's a kids movie! the good guys win! they save narnia! why on earth would i, a 26 year old cynic, tear up?? well, these kids got to escape their harsh reality of the subway and teenage hell to lead a fantasy life in another world. and for 2.5 hours, i was with them--or at least watching them. and then just like that, snap. back to reality. them and me. and susan barely got to lock lips with caspian, bogus. but in all actuality, i think the fact that the movie closed with regina spektor's "the call" swelling at the end of the flick had much more to do with anything else.

that woman. . . she can sing. and she can evoke some mad girly emotions, i tell you. i try to supress that shit like nobody's business and hawk it up to being indestructable and independent. but damn, as soon as she starts crooning about "no need to say goodbye," and blah blah. . . damn her. i hear she has a new album out, i've heard mixed reviews about her single so i'm waiting to check it until it's officially released.

bleh. last time i teared up at a movie it wasn't regina on the soundtrack though, it was biggie and whitesnake. notorious and the wrestler. goddamn, i have weird tastes in tearjerkers. show me the notebook. fried green tomatoes. titanic. dry faced. but a dead rapper? wrestler? kids going back home and leaving their friendly lion pal? bust out the kleenex for this girl, stat.

on that note, i think it's probz a good idea for me to turn in and get caught up on some z's (before midnight for once!) before i do something drastic and go on a regina downloading spree and angst myself back to highschoolsmalltownlonelyhood.

man, if i fall asleep now maybe i'll luck out enough to check me some caspian lover action in jodi dreamworld. . . that may not be so bad.

P4K Pix from Joe D.

Pitchfork: Day Three - Sunday

2:42 PM – Bummed I missed the 1:00 PM set of the Mae Shi, but catching a few of Blitzen Trapper’s fun, summer tunes on the A stage make it A-OK.

2:52 PM – Remembering that Pitchfork is just as much about discovering new as well as catching current faves, I trek to the B stage to learn me about some Killer Whales. Dudes are wildin’ out, loud crazy noise—I’ve got my first beer of the day in grip and there is a man dressed in a banana costume to my direct left.

3:17 PM – Pharoahe Monch is about to blow shit up on the C stage—dj is hyping up the crowd with some Wassup Chicago’s. Getting pumped.

3:24 PM – It’s on. Bodies are bumpin, beats are thumpin, and shit is off tha hook. Dude is blowing away Doom on the hip hop front. Deep ass bass is making the crowd shake, beach balls are flying.

3:43 PM – “Hip hop is officially in the building.” (Well, close enough, we’re in a park. . . but we get it.) There’s a helluva dance party going on right now and the kids at the C stage just learned that hip hop is “Right Here” in Chicago. Clouds of mystery smoke begin to puff from the dense crowd, billowing towards the stage. Mad turntable scratching action ensues. Happy summer, ya’ll.

4:00 PM – Crowd’s ohhh’ing along with Pharaohe, Showtime’s killing it. This is Desire!!

4:05 PM – Simon says. . . you know the rest. This is the shit.

4:19 PM – Interesting transition from some blazing hip hop into the upbeat summer pop sounds of The Thermals, who just kicked off some jams on the A stage. “I Let it Go” and “I Called Out Your Name.” Man, I love these guys.

4:32 – The Thermals are now busting up some Nirvana. . . Yessssss. I’ve seen what I need to; time to check the B stage for some dance party action.

4:39 PM – DJ/Rupture is blaring some Irish/pirate boogie jams. This noise is eclectic and off tha hook. Jungle rhymes, booties shaking. Found a cigarette butt free patch of grass to land with my girls for a break.

5:19 PM – The Walkmen are cutting it up! Hella packed crowd, it’s much warmer today than the past two days. . . there’s a gentleman sporting Ralph Lauren boxers in front of us who is REALLY getting into the beats. Ohhhhh, summer. . . .

6:02 PM – The Walkmen are still strumming along—very chill and super solid summer soundtrack. Sprawled out by the upper right baseball diamond, double fisting 312’s in efforts of getting rid of my drink tickets before go time. Just waiting on M83 to start.

6:19 PM – M83!!! Lovely blue sequin top! Sunlight is reflecting from the beautiful glitter strands. . . I want it. Bubbles are floating, dream synth pop at its best. Only wish it was louder, though . . . the translation of M83 is so much more mesmerizing indoors at full volume capacity.

6:27 PM – “We Own the Sky.” I wish John Hughes was here.

6:32 PM – “Kim & Jessie!” Hips involuntarily sway in the shimmying crowd. The back of the crowd isn’t really into it as much as they should be, but the M83 fans are eating this shit up. So pretty. Again, wish the volume could be adjusted higher. . .

7:06 PM – Headed to front to nab a good Grizzly Bear spot, run into DJ STV SLV of the Hood Internet and DJ Bald Eagle. They like Grizzly Bear too.

7:11 PM – M83 curtseys, bows. Cute.

7:25 PM – Grizzly Bear takes the stage, opens up with Veckatimest’s opening track, “Southern Point.”

7:34 PM – “It’s a pleasure being back; we played here two years ago and can’t believe we get to share a stage with The Walkmen.” Yes, yes you did—thanks for coming back, G’s.

7:43 PM – What aren’t you agreeing with, Mr. Rossen? What’s with all the head shaking? These boys are all just so pretty, especially the clarinet playing kewpie doll. The crowd is definitely enjoying them some Grizz Bear action.

7:59 PM – Awww, here it is. “Two Weeks!” Time to boogie to 2009’s Biggest Indie Summer Jam!

8:24 PM – “While You Wait for the Others”: Exactly what’s going on as Flaming Lips begin to set up their bright neon blue arch backdrop to the right diagonal A stage.

8:40 PM – A naked, animated golden woman shimmies on the big screens. Men begin to jump out of a pulsing, glowing cartoon vagina. I guess The Flaming Lips are being born. There’s a plastic afterbirth on the stage and it’s growing. . . Oh wait, that’s just Wayne Coyne being born in his inflatable gerbil ball. The crowd goes nuts as he rolls amongst the fans. Confetti guns shoot, psychadelia ensues. Dancing frog men to the right, dancing kitty girls to the left. Coyne returns to the stage only to whip out a flame thrower. “We played here 16 times in one year—in 1994.”

(Time Unknown): I’m not going to kid myself, there’s no way I took accurate enough notes with precise times at this point. It’s The Flaming Lips and I’m partially loaded. Stoners to the left and right of me are frantically boogying, and giant balloons are all up in everybody’s business. Suddenly I noticed my friend and I are surrounded by ecstatic fun. I can only imagine what the kids on acid up front are feeling right now. My friend whispers in my ear, “I feel like they’re from Narnia, they came out of the screen from another world . . . someplace magical.” I can’t help but agree. Highlights I did manage to scribble in my Lisa Frank notebook include “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song,” “Fight Test,” some new tracks and an incredibly slowed down, intimate crowd sing along to “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots.” So far, so good—but the sound quality could have been sharper. Also kind of wish Wayne would stick a sock in it and play more songs from Write the Night vs. yapping about how they always play the fan favorites. . . We love you dude, but c’mon, stick to the beats.

9:44 PM – (Wow, I remembered to write down the times again). Finally, my anticipation ceases—the familiar guitar opening to “She Don’t Use Jelly.” Pitchfork 2009 is an official success. I turn around one last time to the balloon party and peace out, tired as hell, towards the Pink Line as the festival closer “Do You Realize” begins. Good night Chicago, this gal is tuckered out of brews, all things deep fried and loud beats—at least until Wicker Park fest next weekend that is. . .
My personal highlights from the weekend: Dancing to Yeasayer’s “2080” in the rain; Beirut opening with “Nantes,” Matt & Kim’s closer “Daylight,” Pharoahe Monch busting out both “Desire” and “Simon Says,” Grizzly Bear’s super fun live rendition of “Two Weeks” and Flaming Lips’ “She Don’t Use Jelly.”

Discuss: What were your highlights? What could have been better? How do you think P4K 2009 fared up to 2008?

Pitchfork: Day Two - Saturday

11 PM – First Goose Island 312 in hand, successfully smuggled my free Coke Zero to mix with my jack. Plants and Animals is on the C stage—pretty steady rock, not sure where they’re from but they either have legit accents or are just practicing some fake rock star swagger. Driven, bluesy rock guitars and indecipherable vocals—shout out to the Schuba’s set later tonight. Nice way to start the day.

2:25 PM – All the kids are flocking to the front of A stage for Fucked Up. Not sure what to expect, sound check is just beginning and I have a feeling I won’t be safe sitting much longer, these kids are looking pretty intense.

2:31 PM – I was right. Standing is necessary. Fucked Up is really funny. My left foot is asleep from sitting on it for so long and eager gutter punk wanna be suburban kids keep walking into me—I know at some point I’ll topple over. Some dude behind me is doing his best Fucked Up impression growling “don’t wanna be born again.” This is certainly not my cup of tea. Some 13 year old kid is shown on the big screen bodysurfing with an angry security guard yanking him down. The dude keeps screaming “fuck yeah,” he’s partially nude and very white, very large. He has a beach ball on his head that he ripped apart with his teeth. Loud, lazy guitars and just an overall ruckus. I feel hella old. As I turn to leave, I am joined with almost every other over 25 year old, shaking their heads in unison. I just don’t get it. . .

2:47 PM – Escaped the hardcore hell and am now relaxing in the shade at the hidden B stage for the Antlers. Over all vibe is much more chill, pretty organ key opener—The Antlers are definitely a breath of fresh air. High pitched vocals, confused at times if singer is male or female, but it doesn’t matter. This is chill, kinda dig it. Overhear more attendees discussing their confusion over Fucked Up, I have a feeling they may be responsible for a large chunk of the Antlers’ audience turnout.

3:20 PM – Pains of Being Pure at Heart are kicking it off. Light rain is drizzling on and off. I’m standing directly behind the C stage sound tent with a decent view of the stage. The sound quality is pretty good, but that view I just mentioned is now being challenged with a mass of umbrellas. PPH are playing my faves, “This Love is Fucking Right,” “Young Adult Fiction.” Singer: “We got some good advice from pink eyes—he said we should sound more like Weezer if we can—I agree.”

3:35 PM – Starting to rain again, beer count is now at 2. Pains are still playing and two young boys sporting Mesugah and Mastadon hats stumble over my purse, confused and unsure what to take away from the delicate tinkering pop of Pains. Funny.

3:38 PM – “Stay Alive” is up. Twinkling keys, solid guitar, kinda whiney vocals. It’s ok, I love him anyway. You can see the green line going past behind the stage and trees; it’s a nice reminder of where we’re at. Oh Chicago, I love you so. Singer breaks, “ This is pretty insane how many people are here, thank you so much for sticking around ,” with a shout out to Cymbals Eat Guitars who will be future tour mates. Singer is like a gracious little Christian boy who just got everything he asked for for Christmas. It’s sickeningly cute. Pains closes their set with the self titled anthem, “Pains of Being Pure at Heart.” Cute set, but I think I dug their SXSW showcase more—sound was a bit more crisp and I wasn’t being rained on.

4:11 PM – Thai food vendor, luckily there are more options for eats today. Shrimp Tempura is HIGHLY recommended. Mmmmm, sweet potato fries.

4:20 PM – Mouth is now feeling wrath of teriyaki sauce, kind of on fire. . . Final Fantasy is playing in the background. Not too familiar, but definitely need to get closer to check this out.

4:34 PM – Turns out Final Fantasy is definitely not a video game inspired soundtrack, but rather a classical Andrew Birdish gentleman who is TEARING this shit up. Very beautiful, delicate and eloquent. He’s also super cute. Wish I could catch this in a smaller indoor venue, though, for maximum experience. I bet it’d be awesome at the Lakeshore Theatre. In the distance I can overhear some thrashasms from the B stage—Ponytail I believe?

4:55 PM – Smooth trumpets and delicate, sexy violin work—am completely sold on Final Fantasy now. Will definitely be checking some of his material post P4K, biggest new find yet. Yeasayer is setting up to the left with their sound check, getting pumped.

5:19 PM – Yeasayer is beginning. Chimes, maracas, and an incredible vocal range from the singer. I’m missing Wavves, and 100% Ok with it—Yeasayer is killing this, owning P4k. A live, safari like version of Dark Was the Night’s “Tightrope”,” incredible. Whistles, tambourines, dance party. Clapping, jungle beats. Layers of insane instrumentation. The live delivery of this group is indescribable, the album does is no justice. As the familiar chords to “2080” begin, there is a downpour—the crowd is overjoyed, dancing and thrashing in the rain, this is a pretty amazing sight.

6:02 PM – “Sunrise” concludes. Dude from Yeasayer, “Thank you Sears Tower, Willis Tower, Bruce Willis,” chuckles but crowd kinda fights back (we Chicagoans are big on not changing our ways), laughing, “Sucks so much, I know how much you love Sears.” New song is next—insane, this new album will rule.

6:34 PM – DOOM (and his mask). Sun finally comes out, and light reflects off the aluminum face mask. Doom’s spitting out the beats, I recognize a track from The Mouse and the Mask days. Dude’s sporting some sort of swamp monster costume, shit’s tight but I’m kinda bummin’ that it’s only between Doom and Pharaohe Monch to rep for P4k’s hip hop selection.

7:24 PM – Beirut!! Stand up bass, trumpet, accordion, and of course, the adorable little child faced gent himself. “Nantes” opens it up. Niiice. Second Dark Was the Night song of the evening, Beirut busts into the accordion happy “Mimizan.” The sound is great, everyone is smiling. Huge crowd. A ukulele makes an appearance, “This might be the biggest crowd this ukulele has played for yet.” A french horn!

7:39 PM – Intense trumpet solo action. And wait a minute, “Concubine”!!! Awesome track, but half expecting Ghostface to step out and start spitting “Save Me Dear” on top. Oh Hood Internet, how you’ve retrained my listening pleasure. . . .

7:57 PM – Matt and Kim are 30 minutes late (I think that has something to do more with Wavves, though). They jump on stage, “What’s up Chicago????” Loud crowd reception. Bust out with an energetic rendition of “It’s a Fact (Printed Stained).” A lot of older material is being showcased, including crowd pleaser “Yea Yeah.”

8:06 PM – “Good Old Fashioned Nightmare” is blowing up the dance party. Piano keys, dancey claps, extra disco drum back beat, super fun. The crowd is hella packed, so hard to believe that I saw this duo perform for maybe 200 kids just months ago at the Subterranean. Everyone seems to be digging it, but I’m inclined to punch the dude beside me who just asked his bros if these guys are responsible for “the Six Flags song,” dude, these are soooo not the venga boys. Go home. “Cutdown” is on now.

8:22 PM – Oprah shout outs and “Light Speed.” “Silver Tiles” dedicated to crowd—keyboard becomes unplugged. Kim laughs it out and we continue to rock. Matt instructs crowd, “Everybody throw one hand up in the air. No wait, let’s do both hands! (Pauses), “I think this may be the biggest crowd we’ve ever played.” It is pretty packed out here. Last song, “Daylight.” Crowd goes bananas, including myself. This is just a rad ass dance party now. I oddly am craving some Bacardi now. . .

8:49 PM – It’s been a long day. I’m dehydrated, tired and dirty. I am in no mood to cram the green line car amongst the hipster army tonight, so I stand back for a song and a half of The National and soak in the headliner briefly before I call it a night. It’s chill, solid and the National. I hear some piano, some guitars, and I’m afraid if I stick around any longer I’ll fall asleep. Thanks Pitchfork, it’s been pretty real. Time for some shut eye if I’m gonna make it for M83 and Grizzly Bear tomorrow.

Pitchfork: Day One - Friday

It was a gray and dismal day on Friday, and I was super hoping a downpour would not soon hit the opening night of Union Park’s 3 day music a thon. Turns out it will take more than some gray clouds to intrude upon a night of stellar rockin tunes.

5:25 PM – I, along with an army of determined hipsters, march off a crowded green line car, into Union Park. Lines for will call look pretty intense, but hard ticket holders don’t seem to have too long of a line. First mission is to find a food vendor.

5:48 PM – Well, I guess there’s only one food stand open today, so the line was nasty. Only took 20 minutes, however, to successfully attain a decent sized serving of BBQ pub chips for a mere $2, not bad. I went for the classic hot dog combo while my veggie friend scored some $6 falafel. Not awful, I suppose, but here’s to hoping tomorrow has more food vendors to choose from since tonight is the smallest draw of the 3 days. I find a grassy corner to chill in, and luckily it’s not raining. Tortoise is playing in the background and the easy xylophone chimes combined with some chillax guitar instrumentation is setting up for an overall chill and perfect soundtrack. Screw you, Mother Nature, this is rad.

6:15 PM – Tip to the wise (and thirsty), buy your beer/water tickets EARLY in the day, enough for the entire night. Again, hoping lines were just more brutal since it’s the first night and all vendors aren’t open, but the lines were BRUTAL. Standing in a windy, dusty baseball diamond, with sand blowing in my mouth, while trying to chill out to some Yo La Tengo—a gentle bed or organ keys backs up some calm, pretty vocal work. This is summer, ya’ll. There are plenty of frolicking freaks about, and this is one of my favorite people watching events of the year. A man with pink hair (and eyebrows) is a walking marijuana advertisement in his homemade purple pot mumu. Nice.

7:23 PM – Crowd cheers for Jesus Lizard. Dude from Jesus Lizard, “Jesus Christ, Shut up!!!” And then he rocks. These dudes may be silver haired, balding and pretty rough looking, but one thing’s for sure, they didn’t forget how to fucking rock. Shit is pretty righteous, and their fans are LOVING this. I heard this was their final final show . . . not a big enough follower to know for sure, but I consider myself glad to be a part of it regardless. Jesus Lizard are also quite the jokesters. “What’s brown and rhymes with Snoop?” . . . “Dr. Dre.” Oohhhh.

9:16 PM – Built to Spill are headlining. They’ve been on stage for about a half hour so far. First time catching these dudes. They like beards. Awesome job with the stage lighting, a cascade of violet and then blue and green shadows illuminate the top of the stage. Gorgeous skyline in the evening background. It starts to lightly rain. Dudes in crowd beside me are singing, drunkenly along, with loyalty to every word they can muster out of their mouths. I myself am slowly starting to feel the effects of some smuggled Maker’s Mark. The rain does not seem to bother anyone. The music is pretty rad, pleasantly reminding me of several older albums and tracks, casually classic and overall remarkable. Sound is crisp and clear, delivery to receptive crowd is perfect. An awesome July evening in Chicago.

9:30 PM – Time to sneak out early to beat the masses. Heading to Dark Room to catch DJ Bald Eagle and my boys in The Hood Internet for Dickfork for massive dance party action. Gotta make a stop at McDonald’s first for some happy meal action. Got a ladybug beanie baby for my toy. I HATE LADY BUGS.

11:00 PM – Bald Eagle is pumping up some massive beats. Crowd is picking up. Line outside to get into the Dark Room. Sweatiness.

12:00 AM – The Hood brought an insane post dance party soundtrack, tonight. All the girlies (and boys) are loving this and they even busted out Cyndi Lauper vs. Dizzee Rascal, “Girls Just Wanna Fix Up.” Can’t. Stop. Dancing. BO reeking up the joint. Noone cares. This is Chicago summer, folks.

It’s 10:36 AM, the next day and I am still covered in filth with a slight reminder of my beverage consumption in the upper right side of my face. Since I managed to recollect Day one thanks to my Lisa Frank notebook and some good effing times, I’m about to get up to head back down to Union Park for a full 9 hours of day number two. For more inconsistent rambles of frequent Pitchfork updates, feel free to follow me on my twitter.

review: conor oberst & the mystic valley band - metro, chicago

I used to love Conor Oberst because he helped feed my sadness. Feeling lonesome or just overall angst, I’d pop in any Bright Eyes disc and be swept away in my feelings of self-contempt, emotional emptiness or just consumed by my overall early 20-something girldom. I mean, sure, there were a few songs that weren’t necessarily sad, the more upbeat, folky dishwashing soundtrack—but overall, Conor was my self pity train. He was my doe-eyed, young indie genius crush. I had magazine tear-outs tacked behind my futon bed and I would lustily gaze at his photographs from Spin, Rolling Stone, or what have you, for hours on end. Well, eventually the inevitable happened—he grew up. And so did I.

Last night I wasn’t really sure or prepared for what I would witness at Chicago’s Metro when Conor Oberst brought along some friends from the Mystic Valley Band. Would there be some Desaparecidos moments? Probably not. Some sneak previews of Monsters of Folk? Who knows. BRIGHT EYES???? Well, no—not really. It was Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, as promised. And while I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hoping for “Lua” or “Road to Joy” to make a guest appearance, I will say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself regardless. I have to admit, while I did pick up Conor’s October self-titled release, I wasn’t even aware of Outer South’s May release until 3 days ago—so going into this show, I knew a lot of the material would probably go over my head. But it was still Conor, so I was indebted anyhow.

Kicking things off right on the 10:00 pm mark, Oberst and crew started their alt-country party with “Moab.” Several additional tracks from the October release followed suit, including my faves “NYC-Gone, Gone,” “Souled Out,” “Sausalito” and the ridiculously super fun and upbeat “I don’t want to die (in a hospital).” I couldn’t tell you exactly which tracks from Outer South were accounted for, but I did listen enough to pick out “Nikorette,” which by the way, is damn near impossible to stand still for—with the piano/guitar layer work on this track, you can’t help but shake your shoulders and tap your feet. (Well, maybe the bored/confused indie teens on the main floor could resist—but something tells me they were also hoping for the legacy of this so-called Bright Eyes to appear and help fuel their tears. I get it, I was there once).

The sound quality was super crisp, and the overall blend of musicianship from the Mystic Valley Band was more than uplifting, it was a damned near joyful hoedown. Everyone on stage seemed to be having a grand old time, stomping out some solid jams and it wasn’t until I was politely asked by a Metro employee to “respect my fellow patrons,” (drunken dancing, guilty—sorry guy I spilled beer on, my bad), that I realized how much of a fun time I was indeed actually having. Fun? Happiness?AND Conor Oberst? Man, I guess anything’s possible. I was also pleasantly surprised to see that he sounded more like Conor Oberst live versus the creepily comparable Tom Petty vibe that had been present in his more recent work. An overall tight show, I can attest that the live experience of the Mystic Valley Band is a more solid translation of their works versus via the stereo. There’s no stomping, jamming or smiling through your speakers, folks, you gotta get out to the front lines and feel it for yourself. How the tides have changed, Conor, when I think of you now I just feel alright. No more teenage sob fests for either of us, although I guess we’ll always have our past.

holy crap i haven't written anything in a while

ahhhh. i've been neglectful of my written word thang lately. i blame this on chicago summers, awesome friends and beautiful weather. haven't really checked too many live shows, as of late, but this will change very SOON. tonite, in fact i was supposed to check magnolia electric co @ hideout, but account of drinks, sleep deprivation, and an overall rather bizarre weekend, my apathy got the best of me and i opted to lie around useless in my bedroom all day, to the point where i am now listening to bubba sparx (yes you read this correctly, back in the mud--to be exact, it's a horrible song but i'm enjoying it anyway), in my underpants sipping white pomegranate tea, putting off my assigned task for the evening--watching oliver stone's bush biopic, w.

this week though, instead, i will be checking much music. tuesday night is conor oberst and "the mystical valley band," ergh, i hope he plays some bright eyes joints. that shit would be hot. conor is hot. very much so, yes indeed, so this will be fun and a trip back to 2005 when i had pictures from magazines ripped out and put behind my bed in my college house bedroom of digi ash/wide awake promo doe eyed days. seksi. weds is empty bottle, where alt country rockish outfit (brian williams approved, even) deer tick will be rockin it out. thursday, no definitive plans as of yet, i took friday off of work--so ideally i'd like to hit up 80's newwave nite at neo, but i'm starting to think it might be in my best interest to save up some energy for the weekend's events---PITCHFORK!

yessssss. so excited. see me some grizzly bear. matt & kim. pharaohe monch. fucked up. m83. flaming lips. pains of being pure at heart. et al. shit will be funtastic. friday nite afer party at dark room w/the boyz of hood internet and dj bald eagle should be a funtasm. i'm recruiting as many dance partie bodz as possible so we will own that shit. i'm pretty stoked, you could say. so yes, there will be more jodi reviews vs my sporadic and infrequent long winded rambles in the near near future.

it's been so long since i've commented on any music lately. . . other than the shitastic random pop garbage i downloaded today (see no doubt, kelly clarkson, jade, keith sweat, brandy AND monica, britney spears, etc etc), i'm really digging the fever ray (chick from the knife's effort) recent release i borrowed from a galpal. very dark, yet hauntingly orchestrated swede experimental pop(ish). love her voice. love the style. it's trippy, rad ambient music for sure.

still in my dirty hip hop and electronic thang. been really into the new tracks from clipse and dug the free new atmosphere ep (leak at will, head to the fifth element to pick up yer copy, it's hella fresh). but right now i'm really beginning to think i should be the last person to comment on any music. (britney & madonna "me against the music" MIGHT be playing on my itunes right now, good grief.)

anyway. i really gotta start this movie stat if i actually expect to finish it tonite. work beckons in the am, after all. thank goodness for 4-day work weeks, yes? holler if you'll be checking any of the said shows mentioned above. p4k should be a hootananny sweetass trip.