11 posts tagged “banter”
Last night included:
- Taking two fucking hours to get to happy hour
- Too many indie boy crushes in one room
- Natty Ice and Natty New York
- Dancing to Omar tunes
- Drinking four mixed cocktails in 50 minutes
- Kissing a boy and a girl on the dancefloor (I love my friends)
- Tagging a bar bathroom
- Eating drunk Chinese food
- Drinking and smoking illegal substances in a car
- Dancing a whole lotta
- Inebriated Taqueria Can-cun tacos
- Passing out on top of a bunch of stuff on my bed
I have not been able to sleep for the past four hours, which sucks tremendously but has also enabled me to think heavy, deep thoughts while couch surfing on topics such as:
- Become reacquainted with VH1's music programming. Whoever drew up the set list for tonight's 3-4 AM music video block needs to be hugged. "High & Dry" by Radiohead, "Trouble" by Coldplay, an old Foo Fighters classic, the Killers' cover (that one Joy Division song I always seem to hear) from the "Control" soundtrack, Feist's "Mushaboom" - good choices, indie-alt intern.
- MTV's throat-shoving marketing ploys. Their latest obsession in Kate Nash is almost too much. Essentially what they do is pick an artist every week they really really like, and then feature them in a commercial about their music every 10 minutes. They did this with Mark Ronson in September, who I love, but by the end of it even I tired of seeing his mug pose with a furry duck. This approach wouldn't be so bad for MTV if you're watching a half hour long program, but I got the luck of watching for two hours. I saw Kate Nash in a coffee shop, chilling with some dinosaur bones, and I think in a park. Hopefully, she is as cute and talented when she comes to popscene on Saturday.
- Conan O'Brien's music talent booker - I want to meet you. Seriously, best taste in music. Hometown boys Two Gallants were on a few months ago, as have been the Decemberists and the Shins. Tonight's guests were Nicole Atkins and the Sea, who I effing adore and wish big things for in '08 and may even get a little gay for (read more here). I absolutely adore her voice and can't wait until she and the Sea tour in SF again.
Time to drink more tea and hopefully hop to bed...
Man, I miss having internet at my house...
- Rufus Wainwright killing a beautiful version of "Hallelujah" right on the mark, and also debuting a new video. One day, just one day, I would like to see him play a whole set and not just an in-store in London...or maybe play a full set while still in London, why not?
- Because he can, Prince is including a free copy of his new CD with each issue of a UK tabloid this Sunday. What do we talk about, the fact that it's such a brilliant and idiotic marketing ploy, or that we're looking at a LOT of Prince in one day?
- I know some fans say they would die for their favorite band...and not saying I would necessarily like to go out dying for Radiohead, but these dudes were just disassembling some backdrops and died while unhooking stuff for the Rolling Stones Spain show. Yikes.
- So. Spice Girls reunion tour. December 7 in Los Angeles, anyone? Anyone?
- Tyrese says his new tour is "for ladies only" and that no guys will be allowed to come to his shows (support is Ginuwine, who I totally forgot about up until ten minutes ago and now "Pony" is in my head). Really, Tyrese? Well, I would like to go to shows where is a "no douchebag, sloppy couple kissing, pusher, or beer spiller" policy, but I guess I can dream.
- Okay, so this sounds like the best idea: SUPERGROUP. Well, not exactly. I'm all about star-studded groups that turn out to be awesome (more The Good, The Bad, And The Queen, less Velvet Revolver), but a large part is that they also were successful in previous groups before joining forces. I don't know, maybe because I am still bitter about the whole Arctic Monkeys seizure light show I was subjected to two years ago (I'm still holding a grudge), I'm just hoping Lily Allen doesn't fuck up and get arrested again or something.
- Fuck, dude! What's with all these shows being hella small? Air at Bimbo's, M.I.A. at Rickshaw?? What's next, Interpol in my house? (Preferably, my bed?)
- And finally, because I am such an art fag: Brian Eno's 77 Million Paintings. I fucking love YBCA, I need to go to this.
Okay, J/K, finally this. I can't believe I am posting it...but man. Fucking, terrible video for Interpol's first single. COME ON GUYS. YOU DUDES ARE THE KINGS OF COOL. And no Paul Banks in Interpol videos makes me a cranky Jenzy.
It's like, seriously? You made me sit through that? So lucky I super love that song. The least bit is that while listening to this song on repeat I have thought of an awesome treatment for my own video/photo series for a still narrative, so I'm excited about that.
JT almost had it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Per tip off from Facebook friend Nick, I found out the Timberhead released the video for "LoveStoned" today, which is my third favorite song off FutureSex/LoveSounds (behind the title track and "Damn Girl," cos seriously, what would be the video for "Damn Girl?" A repeated strobe of scantily-clad girls at like Wendy's?).
YouTube pulled the video by the time I got to the link, but I got to see it at the main Yahoo! Music page and man. It was so fucking epic until the break down where he sings "She's got me hooked, it just ain't fair" and he's in the big white room and everything is going slowly and it's like AHHHHHHHH I KNOW YOU SMOKE WEED BUT WHY DOES YOUR VIDEO HAVE TO BE LIKE YOU'RE DOING IT NOW?
Also that last part looks a lot like this video during the dancing parts:
That being said, the first 4 minutes of the video are pretty spectacular; Robert Hales, who also did videos for NIN ("Starfuckers INC) and Gnarls Barkley ("Crazy") did a ridiculously amazing job with the life/recording line concept and intergrating it into JT's face...but that last two minutes...cut it like a good bitch.
I am so perpetually going to be a 12 year old, I know.
So many things happened (or, I found out about) while I was gone!! Shit...
- Chris Cornell, again solo - and playing July 10 at the Warfield. First rock'n'roll crush, do I go see you?
- While doing my concert calendar for professional and personal purposes, I found a listing for a band at the Make-Out Room called Eggplant Casino and all of a sudden, it made sense: SFist music kid and fellow Vox'er Krissy was right about the whole naming-your-band thing. (For the record, I tried finding them and no MySpace results heeded anything - their band website doesn't have audio either).
- Too many concerts coming up, with a number of good shows all on the same day: Hot Chip or Pipettes? Gwen Stefani, Roger Waters, The Horrors, or Darren Hayes (um, of Savage Garden fame)? Nelly Furtado or Skinny Puppy? Incubus or Vanilla Ice? Damn my crazy music tastes.
- October is a little far away to be thinking of a show, but with the Cure, BRMC, and my other boyfriend in AFI playing...I'm down.
- I'm not sure what this is?? Tom Waits Peep Show?? Confused...
- Okay, a little sad I missed Jordan Knight play...a club prom...shut it...
- And for a laugh: my friend Wendy drove me to San Jose the day I flew out on a trip so I could meet up with my parents - I had just walked the Golden Gate Bridge with my best friend Lissa and I told Wendy I couldn't stop laughing because all I could think about was this video:
Points for the sweet locations in North Beach (specifically the Washington Square church and the bus stops) - whoever was the cinematographer had a good eye.
Hello, I am alive. I'm just now recovering from Noisepop, believe it or not. I got way exhausted at the end of the festival and ended up feeling woozy every day for almost a week after. Grand total of hours worked at my real job: 32. Hours worked at Noisepop: about 30. Hours in school: approximately 24. DO THE MATH.
Would I trade it for anything? Hell to the no. But last week was my kick-back time, so now I am back in full effect.
I went to Youth Group on Monday, wherein I was treated to indie tunes from them and the Submarines, who I am slowly falling in love with. I also debated with Vroo, Jenn, and her boyfriend Eric about his dog being an asshole and Bloc Party being renamed "Fuck Party" (as in, hello band members, you are all hot). Speaking of which, I need to get hopping on that review stat. Friday I'm at Presets and Saturday I'm at said Party...Thursday's Epitaph showcase hell that I was going to subject myself to because I love my brother might not happen because he doesn't know if he can make it up in time after work. I am secretly stoked.
Currently I am pulling an all-nighter with Kim (who's taking a cat nap) and Heather so I can study for Spanish Art history rightfully. Hez put on a mix CD that just ranged from hellogoodbye to the Killers to a random rap group, as well as let me borrow her Mary J. Blige retrospective album. A-mazing. Hez also found a site called musicovery.com through stumbleupon.com that I think might be my new best friend...I will explore and report after this exam passes (midterms are for me this week).
Some good bits of news that I am loving: Placebo in April, Low in June, and Daft Punk WITH The Rapture in July. In addition to Ratatat, Blonde Redhead/Annuals, The Shins, Ben Gibbard, and Muse, I am fucking exhausted just looking at the concert list I have. Hooray for good music.
I'm trying to score Eric Clapton tickets for me and my dad on Sunday...if anyone has leads, let me know.
I think I will end this post with the greatest MySpace friend request I've gotten in a while: Wanya from Boyz II Men. I have a sneaking suspicion he/the fangirl who runs the page read all the way back in my blogs from October to know I went to see them the three remaining singers perform. That amuses me to no end.
Actually, I will end this post with a public plea/open letter.
Dear Amy Winehouse,
STOP DOING COKE. I am sorry you and your boy broke up, but really, if you cancel the April popscene show I will be a very sad Jenz.
Love, me
I need some coffee. Before I get my chai on, here is what my week has been like:
having one of the best weeks ever. Shoes getting destroyed a minor setback.
Speaking of which and sort of related, never ended up meeting with Dude 1 for discussions. Tres sad.
Just wanted to let you know. At Stuart's eating burritos before I head over to Cake.
A year later, and I still play this record with the same vigor like it's my first spin.
--
Turn everything off,
Just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets,
And I should be one
Try telling me off
Try slamming the door
and telling me I'm not worth your time
Or the breath I'm breathing
--
"Vampires in Blue Dresses," Margot and the Nuclear So And So's
Also, holy crap, Chris Martin turned 30 today. I have been listening to Coldplay way too many years now...
Where do I start -
- The fact I ate ice cream, danced, and was appalled/seduced by Har Mar Superstar at the same time,
- Or that I was humped by a blonde girl in a silver bikini while a marching band played around us, or
- An older French gentleman "really wanted to say hello to me," or
- That I touched David Cross and oogled at a landslide of other rock stars/cute guys, or
- I had one of the best nights of the month, and I was never bored during the whole night, and I didn't even drink?
Sweet Jesus. If I had to pick a word to describe the night's festivities, it would be EFFINGRIDICULOUS. This year marks my fourth year as a Noisepop volunteer, and my first one as a legal adult being able to take advantage of a thing called drink tickets. This year also marks maybe the first and only time I am working every night of the festival (with some days two shows back to back).
Tonight: the opening night party with DJs David Cross and Shepard Fairey, Extra Action Marching Band, Har Mar Superstar, and Tapes'n'Tapes @ Mezzanine. Tomorrow: John Vanderslice, Damien Jurado, Submarines, and Black Fiction @ Independent.
5:23 PM: I am still sitting in western art history class at school, half-falling asleep listening to the professor drone on the Rococo and then waking up to psych myself for the impending good times for the opening night party. Hello, free food over David's "Ode to the Horatii" any day.
6:40 PM: On the way to the BART station, I get the following text from my partner-in-crime for the night, Ursula: "i am here, after getting hella lost and having chris applegrin give me directions." I go back to listening to Margot and the Nuclear So & So's.
7:09 PM: I am ushered into Mezzanine and help the other volunteers finish rolling free posters for the crowd.
7:30 PM: A steady flow of badge holders (lucky jerks) and media kids flow through, and Ursula and I hit up the food table to stifle our yawns. I'm running on four hours of sleep due to impending midterms and don't want to know how the festival organizers are even awake. Cases of Red Bull, maybe? Tiny monkeys?
7:32 PM: After serving myself some chicken and bean action from the buffet table, someone hands me a cup of corn to go along and I haphazardly shovel in a big mouthful of the delicious vegetable as well as a shit ton of cayanne pepper. Apologies to the dude I accidently elbowed by the tortilla chips, my mouth was on fire and I was flailing around for a purpose.
7:58 PM: With the food gone and my mouth back to normal, we wander around Mezzanine to check out the sights and sounds. There is a DJ booth set up under a TV sheet and upstairs are D.O.R.K.S. United, a cool apparel/art/nerd collective making free T-shirts to lucky patrons who score a slip with their logo on it. All of the bars are in full effect and everyone seems to be making merry.
8:07 PM: I try to get a sly picture of David Cross DJing, but I suck at being sly. I also suck at measuring the light-and-show-up factor, because he looks like a blurb. Ursula also gives me an angry face for making her try to be my blocker in this "sly" scheme.
8:13 PM: We decide to hunt down James, who's one of the volunteers passing out the D.O.R.K.S. United slips, and beg/seduce him for one. We're cute, so we get them, and run back upstairs to pick out our specs on a tee. I decide on a beige shirt with a red icon of a crate full of records (cliche, or touche?) and one of the D.U. girls tells me it'll be ready before the night ends.
The place is starting to fill out a lot more and it becomes harder to manuever around in the crowd, especially upstairs. Cross and Fairey are pumping it up with Bloc Party, Ratatat, old school rock jams and then a song that was on "Arrested Development" but neither Ursula or I could figure out what it was. I check out Shepard Fairey's work on the walls, which continues on the main floor as well as the smoking area. It's a lot of modernist collaging and kooky shapes arranged for a one-two impact, and I'm impressed.
Ursula and I then decide it's MySpace time.
8:53 PM: I head over to my "VIP List" post. Having already seen David Dondero, Dave Kostiner from Creeper Lagoon, everyone of who's who in the San Francisco club and music scene, and one of my old co-workers, I feel a little people-watched out after being in the club for just an hour and a half. I slide onto a tall black chair and arm myself with a pen to cross off people who said they were on it and/or were cute. My list includes people like Josh Ritter, John Vanderslice, Two Gallants, and Har Mar's camp. Over 300 people are standing in the freezing cold and occasional rain in the email list line on the other side of the entrance; FREEDM had made specific guidelines for RSVP'ing for the free event and there's some confusion and anger growing over possible glips in the system.
9:38 PM: Extra Action Marching Band take the stage; I can hear the brass instruments kick up and I'm sad I'm outside for it. Most of all the lines and list issues have been smoothed out, and peeps that had congregated outside are now in the safety and warmth of Mezzanine. My list partner Terra and I make a deal to switch off work every other song; be outside for one song doing list stuff, be inside to see the band. I let her go first but not without me screaming a threat of "Your ass better be back out here after the first song, or ELSE!!!!" after she disappears amongst the sea of concert go-ers.
9:53 PM: I had seen some of the marching band come in during the buffet hour in the beginning of the night, in particular one guy with a huge tuba possibly as big as a folding table and others with various noise makers. What I didn't count on is when I finally enter the venue again that (a) the marching band is performing in the middle of the dance floor and not on stage, (b) a dude is standing on the back bar's counter with a huge horn, (c) scantily-clad flag guys and girls are running around and snaking through the amused-but-scared crowd, and (d) how much glitter there is.
I am sort of taken aback at first by the seemingly sheer abrasiveness of the situation, but then got totally sucked into their set. I would run back at the end of my designated song, do my volunteer responsibilities, and then run back to see them as Terra would run breathlessly back outside as well to handle the VIP list. My efforts to run back and forth paid off when during one of the songs, a girl adorned in a big swirl of blonde curls and false eyelashes, while wearing a silver two-piece, pulls me in to her to dance and her huge silver and gray pom-poms are getting in my face. All I can do was laugh.
I throw my hands up above my head and scream joyously while also getting woman-handled by a complete stranger, and then am pinned against a wall after she grabs someone else to molest. I crawl back to Terra and share my cop-a-feel experience, to which she laughs and then becomes jealous.
10:26 PM: The lists are beginning to close and everyone who wants to is in Mezzanine at this point. I'm hassling some of the people who are late-arrivers, asking them to give me a good reason to let them in (the event is free; at this point I'm just entertaining myself). I feel a tap on my shoulder and a guy is asking me if it's okay if he and his friend can get in. This isn't an unusual occurrence, as it's been happening all night, but then his friend leans in and says to me, "Can I say hello to you, pretty lady?" in a smooth French accent. I smile and tilt my head and stupidly reply "Why, hello to you too." The French guy leans in more to be inches away from my face and repeats, "No, I mean...can I say hello to you?" and I immediately inwardly panic and then hock my best I'm-not-freaking-out-oh-yeah-but-I-am-inside smile and nod "No, really. That's okay." It's not that he wasn't cute so much as it was CREEPY. Terra is again no where to be found during my moment of emergency and is again bemused when she returns to me and I tell her "Dude, some French guy just hit on me, and I kinda liked it...but then didn't."
10:41 PM: I run into Ursula on the floor and we head upfront to watch Har Mar. He's begun his set in a collared shirt and slacks, then will slowly strip, asking the crowd if they love it, "OR DO YOU LOVE IT," and that he is "so fucking awesome" and happy to be in San Francisco.
I then am subjected to this image for the next 40 minutes...
...and we decide to check and see if our T-shirts from upstairs are ready. After retreiving them and admiring the fresh paint job from each of our respective stenciled apparel items, we're walking through the upstairs area and Ursula grabs my arm and says, "Dude! David Cross!" who had been emceeing throughout the evening in addition to his DJ duties. Me being me tap his arm and say ever-so-sweetly, "Mr. Cross, can we have a picture with you? We could be like a glasses crew" and he smiles at me friendly-like and we crowd into the frame of my digital camera for some bad assery.
This, is pretty much, an AWESOME MOMENT CAPTURED IN TIME.
11:09 PM: Giddy off of our celebrity encounter, I suggest ice cream and we wander into the back patio to find a goddamn real ice cream truck parked in the back next to some hipster smokers. Are you SERIOUS? I ask for vanilla and then hop back inside to watch the rest of Har Mar's set. How is it that he can get away from pretending to pick stuff out of his crotch, while he's standing in his underwear, and then flick it onto the crowd? Showmanship is in his court, but still...sexy.
Apparently, I ask for ice cream naked. Good to know.
11:12 PM: I don't know how we end up in the back but we stumble onto a photo booth, and my dreams have come true. I have been fed, entertained, molested, amused, scared, and starstruck within a four hour span. Thank you, Noisepop. This year's opening party kicked serious tail.
SECURITY: You're going to need to not stand in the walkway, guys.
DAVID CROSS: (with some friends) We're just waiting for some people...
SECURITY: I'm sorry sir, you're going to need to move somewhere else.
DAVID CROSS: But -
SECURITY: Now!
DAVID CROSS: Well, okay then...I'll just wait back in my dressing room then.
SECURITY: ...
I hope the rest of the week proves to be as fun.
