4 posts tagged “about me”

My very, very first concert was when I was in third grade. Eight years old, 1993, and somehow I convinced my parents to take me to the Hot 97.7 Summer Jam concert series at the Redwood Ampitheatre in Great America. Oh yeah, that Great America. That decision I think was later regretted by my mom, who I remembered being hellishly horrified that  one of the opening acts did a dance move that was reminscent of this. On repeat. Continously.

The bill included Soul IV Real, Mint Condition, and Keith Sweat, the latter who canceled that morning. I remember standing line near the bumper cars and feeling crushed. I would later go on to wear the concert tee to bed and inwardly curse the show gods from taking away my opportunity to see Keith Sweat. Fifteen years have passed, and I am still bitter I never got to see the man in person. How much would "I Want Her" ruled live?

I mention this because I'm going over some notes I took during the Wallpaper. interview from Friday, and Eric mentioned "I Want Her" and how aesthetically pleasing it is despite the ridiculousness of the lyrics. I couldn't agree more. I wonder if we both listened to the late night love jams on KMEL with Chuy Gomez considering we both grew up in the Bay Area...it is a little funny the night I went to see them at Rickshaw in March was the same one as Keith Sweat and BelBivDeVoe in Oakland. Who knew?

My family and I went down to L.A. over the weekend to see my brother compete in the state championships for his division in track and field; more later on how I was the best (worst) beaming big sister ever, and his crowning moment in receiving his medal.

The biggest part in traveling so far is obviously the road trip soundtrack you're going to listen to, and are supposed to prepare for beforehand. So, imagine to our great distain and amusement that both my dad and I forgot CDs. This is very, very bad since on trips like this we get voted to be up front because we both can stay awake for long periods of time, and have the same taste in music (therefore not arguing with each other). In regards to that latter, I credit my dad for a lot of the music I grew up listening to and still listen to, particularly in the classic rock and alternative rock vein. He is largely responsible for my love of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, the Eagles, Stone Temple Pilots, Soundgarden, Nirvana, Guns'n'Roses, Van Halen, and tons more. He's seen some rad shows over his lifetime and has some incredible stories to boot (his friends getting arrested, bumrushing the stage, tailgating et al). This was the father who used to wake up my brother and I when we were kids early on Sundays when my mom was at work so we could go stand in line at the Ticketmaster outlet in the Wherehouse for first-come, first-served hard concert tickets fresh off the print (those were oh-so the days).

The only thing that saved us this weekend in terms of tunes was using the 'scan' button on the radio and finding a classic rock station that promised "5,000 songs, all in a row!" (we calculated this to be 13.89 days, which is based on each song averaging four minutes and also just plain ridiculous). But before we found said station, and I was scanning to my heart's content, my dad stopped on a station where a piano-based song was playing and started humming along. I stopped to listen to what he recognized and proceeded to laugh my ass off:

"Seriously, Dad??" I asked incredulously.

"They play this all the time at work! And it's really catchy!" he defended, but it was obvious he got caught. And he still continued to hum along...

Silly dads...

My South review ran live today; I'm lukewarm about the pictures but thought the review was a tad funny. Link here.

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Live - South @ The Independent | SF

Tourists love San Francisco, it's true. My fine city has given people from the Midwest and Europeans novelty trolley car rides, overpriced food on the wharf, and illimitable photo opportunities that include blocking traffic in North Beach. I like walking up and down during these visitor months and watching dads with the biggest camera in tow arrange his family on the steps of Union Square's courtyard.

The one thing I wish tourists would figure out, though, is when to visit. San Francisco's summer is actually in September and October. I see people every year in July in cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts freezing their collective asses off trying to smile for the family portrait. One of the best kept secrets is to track the weather in the middle of May and June for our annual heat wave, which coincidentally is happening now; the weather beautifully slathers everyone with a nice aroma of salt air, sunscreen, pot hole exhaust, and bum pee, not to mention our world-famous clam chowder. More importantly, though, who doesn't love introducing a girl from Montana to the madness that is Bay to Breakers?

I mention this whole spiel because I really feel South is one of the U.K.'s best kept secrets - or worst kept, if you think about it. Wednesday night the outfit was in town for their second-to-last show on this tour leg supporting newly released You Are Here; as I perched in the balcony watching the show like a sniper, I wondered where the hell everyone was as I looked down at the thin sea of audience below me. It had been 86 degrees in the city that day, and my dress had stuck to the backs of my legs all day, but I still was there to witness an incredible band.

It's an unfortunate predicament for a band that is so gifted; lead singer Jaime McDonald has the chops to both rock the house and lull into dreaminess, a rare talent I see in singers these days. McDonald's voice is both tender and soothing during softer parts like in "Colours and Waves," tinged with sweetness and harmony. And while You Are Here is a quieter record in terms of acoustics, tracks like "Lonely Highs" deliver a pure alternative sound live, and find the band strutting out the rock star as a result. During "Motiveless Crime," a sense of urgency and a beguiling bass line captivated the mood, McDonald totally wailing it out during the bridge with sharpness and precision. Collectively, the band seems to know their material like the backs of their hands, which is a seemingly given but is something that is only obtained through hard work and practice.

So why has the band yet to catch on in the States? It's a question I still ask myself. It's not like they lack any sort of craftsmanship. South is seriously an honest-to-God, great Britpop band with grand hooks and wonderful rhythm. And I as sat with my feet dangling over the side of the balcony lost in the daydream of their melody, I hoped Britpop was still alive and well in my neck of the woods to recognize these blokes.

Photos by Jenz

South
MySpace

By JENZ May 19, 2008 in NEWS

You know, contrary to popular belief, I am not a raging alcoholic. I was flipping through some of the clips I've done in the past few months and I realize I talk a lot about being drunk. I told Charlie this morning, "In my article [today], I admitted to being so wasted and stuffing a candle in my bra," to which I quickly added, "Not lit, thankfully."

Normal people don't do this. And I swear, on all accounts, I am actually fairly normal. Do I want it to be my "thing" to go to shows and get drunk and write about them? Who knows. I know people will contend their own opinion about me, my habits, and my lifestyle, but for the sake of education, here are some facts about me:

• I work a full-time, non-music related job during the week that requires me to function fairly highly. Most of these drunk stories happen during the weekend because I still hold some shred of responsibility to the clients I serve. Plus, I am actually still in school and like to do well in classes, too. And while I hope someday I will find a niche in the music industry to work in, right now I am indeed a working stiff and know that my job is the one that pays the bills - not these reviews (unless you're offering to...).
• I love music, and I love bars, and often music venues have said bars in them. And while I do very much enjoy beer and seeing live music, I know my limit. However, sometimes you just want to have the "Fuck it, I am getting hammered" mentality, and I don't think that's bad unless it's out of control. Drinking is an expensive habit.
  
• I don't have an average of how many times of which I go out to shows; sometimes it's once a week, sometimes it's none, sometimes it's four nights in a row of being out. But I also know I don't have to drink at every concert I'm at, especially if I have to go to work the next day - I work 8 AM Monday through Friday. And, actually, I have turned down a show because I felt like staying in - it's in the small minority, but I've done it. Sometimes I just want to sit in my underwear and play Guitar Hero (shocking, I know).
• The bottom line is this: I love going out, and it's a balance I am more than willing to try and master. And, suffice to say, alcohol fuels a lot of these stories because that's just what it does. Maybe my drinking level is higher than most, but hey - it's an entertaining read. Sometimes, the sober stories can't hold a candle to these booze-filled adventures.
  

I hold the candle in my bra. CANDLEINMYBRA!

Anyway, I don't really consider this as a defense moreso my reasoning. I think I am marginally funny in what I write, and that at the end you like reading about my drunken escapades, yeah? That whole living-vicariously-through-someone shit can be exhilirating...

That being said, here's today's booze story. Enjoy!

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Live - Does It Offend You, Yeah? + The Heavy | SF

Riddle me this: how does one Saturday night get filled with whiskey, baby-making music, and me committing minor theft, all jam-packed within three hours? It's nights like this I fall even more in love with my city...

The daytime found me switching apartments: after schlepping my gigantic book and record collections up two flights of stairs and eating some delicious Taco Bell fiesta potatoes, I was ready to dance my tail off after moving for the majority of the day. I didn't even shower and headed straight to Slim's to see Does It Offend You, Yeah? after moving the last of my boxes.

Unfortunately for me, the band was in their last three songs. The sheer lunacy I was witnessing being behind a mosh pit and watching Morgan Quaintance screech out "With A Heavy Heart (I Regret To Inform You)" made me wish I had gotten up just an hour extra to begin moving: the throaty vocals and dirty bass line caused a huge raucous, while Horrors-inspired "Attack Of The 60 Ft. Lesbian Octopus" found everyone around me spazzing out. But it was closer "We Are Rockstars" I found myself in trouble: Quaintance pointed to a sign above the backstage door that said "No stage diving" and declared loudly "Fuck that sign!" before launching into "Rockstar." And while I admit the lyrics are a little on the simple side ("Where's your real friends now?/You have let them down/You're a download pal"), that yelp of a "Yeah!" at the end triggered the biggest explosion of dance in my pants I have not seen in a long time. Live, the band is even more smutty and seductive in their electronic arrangement, serving up hot jams on a knob-twiddling platter full of deep bass lines, sexy synth, and incredible rhythm. I'm pretty sure those 20 minutes were probably the best ones of my month.

After catching my breath, I ran home to take a proper shower; after all, I was due to be in the company of some Playboy bunnies. The magazine was sponsoring an event called Rock The Rabbit at Mezzanine, a new fusion partnership of music and boobs, as far as I could tell. When we stepped inside, I was assaulted by the bunny logo at every turn; candles, projection cutouts, postcards, T-shirts. Enlargements of past, various Playboy editions graced the walls, but to be honest, I was surprised not more nudity was around. I spotted two women in the iconic get-up of the corset and bunny ears, and wondered how much they had been hassled by the very drunk crowd to get them to "take it off."

But the spotlight was on U.K. outfit The Heavy, who was playing the event and who I am convinced are the soulful brothers of The Black Keys, complete with bluesy guitars, bass arrangements and a singer equipped with a voice to make the ladies do anything with him. It's a nervy band who aren't afraid to embrace funk and rock, soul and a tinge of R&B, for a bold statement in how to engage in some merrymaking and debauchery in the classiest way possible. Tracks like "That Kind Of Man" and "Coleen" find trumpets punctuating the dance party, announcing its presence in indie royalty, while "Girl" has this killer bass hook reminiscent to The Doors "Hello, I Love You." I started out with tapping my toes and slinking a drink back in my right hand, and by the end of The Heavy's set, I was double-fisting whiskey and ginger ales, had put my dancing shoes on, and was hugging and kissing everyone I knew in my general vicinity.

What the fuck, The Heavy? How did you get a hold on me?

Needless to say, we danced the rest of the night away, but not before I decided it was a fantastic idea to stuff some Playboy swag away for later. In my dress. I awoke the next morning with a candle in my bra and a headache in my skull to the highest extend. Fritos and bean dip cured my hangover before I faced the responsibility of Sunday, and before the memory of last night faded into epicness.

Does It Offend You, Yeah?
The Heavy

By JENZ May 07, 2008 in NEWS
 

Confession time: I used to be way into R&B and rap/hip-hop in the early 90's. I mean, waaaay. I made mix cassette tapes by recording my favorite jams off Hot 97.7 and blasting them on my little Walkman. Between third and eighth grade I was into Mint Condition, Boyz II Men, Blackstreet, Rome, Soul IV Real, Jodeci, and almost any other smooth-voiced singer out there (Faith Evans, Mary J. Blige, and Brandy on the female front). Considering about the same time I was also stealing my dad's Aerosmith and Stone Temple Pilots albums from my parents' room to listen to in secret at night, I have no idea why my switch to alternative music happened didn't happen until I was a junior in high schoool.

I was always on the side of R&B more than I was rap or hip-hop, but I have a soft spot for it too: the first DMX album,  Snoop Dogg, Xzhibit, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Richie Rich. The Notorious B.I.G. as well as 2Pac totally also fall into this vein. I still refuse to answer which one is my favorite or better, but do know that I totally shed a tear at dinner the nights when I found out both had been shot - I actually said a prayer for them around the table. Imagine my bewildered parents observing their nine-year old daughter crying about a rapper...

I bring this up because I am pissed about this. I mean, excuse me??? How is this even possible?? Any documentary that has been done to "shed light" on the East Coast v. West Coast debate of 1994 has only been shambled or really brief on the reasons why. At what point do we let go of such a widely disputed rumor and saga for the sake of our own sanity? There will never be answers, nor reasoning. The music communities Biggie and 2Pac's deaths brought were shaken beyond all belief into trying to mend themselves for the sake of not only their lives but their craft. I find it odd that this has never been addressed either - not that it's all roses and daisies in the park since two seminal musical acts were shot, but I think it's still important to note nonetheless. I was so weirdly angered by the whole thing I'm blogging about it now. See? Thanks.

To end on a funny note, though: is it weird that I loved Bone Thugs as much as I love Interpol now? I mean, seriously...