9 posts tagged “friends”
I am still basking in the glory that was this show...during "Lights" lead singer Arnel Pineda asked everyone to hold up their phones, and I remember looking out into the stretches of the lawn, and all of the lights looked like fireflies fluttering together in unison. It was so beautiful.
Thank you to my dad, Stuart, Suz, Steph, Pantea, and Kim for making this experience as gorgeous as it was.
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Live - Journey, Heart & Cheap Trick @ Shoreline Amphitheater | Mountain View, CA
Yeah, you read that headline correctly. In the biggest
collective display of geriatrics on stage since the Rolling Stones, I
had the pleasure in witnessing the greatest bands of our soft rock
generation. And I gotta say – belting out "Open Arms" while eating
Pringles with my friends in between is more or less paradise. (more...)
I really shouldn't lament though; it's been a busy summer! What, with the stalking of Radiohead in three cities and rolling through multiple cannisters of film in the past few weeks, I only apologize that I have not been able to comment on why I fucking love Hall & Oates so much. Seriously? I just bought their Best Of and cannot pull myself away. Listen to "I Can't Go For That" as you brush your teeth while standing in your underwear in the morning, and you will understand. It's okay in arriving late to work because of this. It happens to the best of us.
I will take a moment tomorrow to gush about my esteemed lottery winnings in being able to photograph Radiohead at Outside Lands this summer; but for now, here are some pretty pictures from both OSL and the Treasure Island Music Festival, of which I spent about 26 hours with Morgan at and we did not kill each other. He did bodycheck me into a Walgreen's side wall though, so violence did creep up. Kristin, Vroo, Rosie, Danielle, and Miles all made my weekend too - I have the bestest friends.
Also, I was very lucky to have been published overseas/on the international interwebs over at NME.com last week. I used to read that site religiously every morning during my first year in college, and to start writing for them is a huge honor. The Pigeon Detectives were nice English blokes as well who talked a lot about 50 Cent and being a baller. Or something. We should have something live on the popscene website with them soon.
Lastly, my faux boyfriend Rickolas Reed is playing pop tomorrow night, and you can't even imagine how fucking stoked I am. Maybe? Maybe.
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Photos - Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival, Day 1 | SF
Day 1 – Pure carnage
Highlights: Tears running before the show even started, being corralled like fluffy sheep, and falling in love.
I wanted to love the first day of Outside Lands. I really did. Everyone who knows me is aware that I have an absolute adoration for my city of San Francisco, and I was so utterly proud to be in attendance for the inaugural year of a huge festival. And hi, duh – Radiohead. But if I'm sobbing twice in an hour before I even get into the show? Well, shit's not right… (more)
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Photos - Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival, Day 2 | SF
Day 2 – In limbo
Highlights: mentally playing "YYZ" on Guitar Hero in my head, dinner with Matt Nathanson, lots of geriatrics on stage during Tom Petty
How can you tell people to take public transportation when you can't increase service? That was still my gripe come Saturday, and though I was a rested Jenz ready to wait for my decked out train to come, it still took me over two hours again to get to where I needed to be. Maybe I'm just an angry little faux redhead, but man…missing seven bands as a result made me none-too-happy. (more)
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Photos - Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival, Day 3 | SF
Day 3 – Complete redemption
Highlights: gorgeous weather (for San Francisco), lots of romantic guitar, Broken Social Scene still having 1,029 people in their band, and Jeff Tweedy being adorable
Somehow the weather gods smiled upon our little festival in the park on the last day of Outside Lands, and I arrived to Golden Gate Park with sun shining on my fire engine red hair and in a good mood – only 40 minutes door to door to witness people from Canada? Awesome! (more)
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Photos - Treasure Island Music Festival Day 1 | SF
Words and photos by JENZ
Armed with a bottle of bubbles, my camera, and more snacks than a fourth grade field trip, my friends and I tumbled into the Treasure Island Music Festival early on day one to soak in the sight and sounds. But I had life-changing, brain-probing questions: would I see the creepy carrot again? Could I take excellent pictures in the photo pit while donning an eye patch? Was my butt showing in the dress I decided to wear? Questions abounded as we shuffled off our shuttle and through the festival gates. (more)
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Photos - Treasure Island Music Festival Day 2 | SF
Words and photos by JENZ
Day two of the Treasure Island Music Festival was filled with
some stellar string arrangements, wandering around the fields like an
orphan, and finding out my alien starfish boyfriend has a twin. Going
big on the weekends was never as fun as this. (more)
Mali and I attended the Air Guitar Regionals for San Francisco last night, and before I get into the sheer lunacy of the spandex and huge balls I saw last night, can I gripe for a minute on how high the minimum for opening tabs at bars seemingly is now? At du Nord Monday night, where we caught a local show (Tartufi was awesome), the min was $25; at 111 Minna, where I went for a happy hour last week, it was $20.
Now, I guess these places are trying to encourage you to drink in pairs? Groups? Or are feeding on people's low self-esteem and alcoholism? Because I know I am in trouble if I spend $25 on booze, just for me. I bring this up because at the Independent last night, the minimum amount to open a tab is $30 - holy shit! In my case, I like beer most of the time, so at $5-6 a piece, four beers is sufficient enough for me to be wasted. I'da been slinging back six beers if I wasn't with Mali drinking to our hearts' content up in the balcony. I know there's a thing about fees and charges through credit card companies to even have the machines in the bar blah blah blah, but that's when you make that shit cash only. $30. Wow.
Anyway, I'm recovering from the air fiesta that was last night. Today I bring you three wonderful clips in their annotated glory that I've been meaning to post. Enjoy!
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Live - Flight Of The Conchords @ Davies Symphony Hall | SF
Who are Flight of the Conchords? Who the hell are you if you are not acquainted with this fictional-but-they-do-exist in real life musical duo, who have a wildly successful show on HBO and now are somehow touring for fake songs about doing foreplay with toothpaste and fake peg leg cannibalism, complete with making lasagna for one and time-traveling to meet David Bowie to tell him how to make iconic music? (more...)
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Live - Lightspeed Champion, Explorers Club @ The Independent | SF
"I'm drinking in the middle of a lake on a rowboat," my friend Kim greeted me on the phone as I answered her call in between bands at the Lightspeed Champion show. Really? Could I get in on that brown-bagging action too?
It was a hard time last week in Jenzland, dear Tripwire readers. Ain't nothing like making an ass out of yourself in a drunken-yet-sobering confession to a guy you want to be make-out partners with, and ain't nothing like getting beat up by a makeshift loft bed the previous night while trying to put a high friend to bed after mischief in the cab that included the driver cussing us out for being obnoxious, but hey - it's all in a Good Samaritian's work, no? (more...)
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Live - Frightened Rabbit @ Independent | SF
I have a smattering of fears that rear their ugly heads when I attend shows. Lest be ridiculed for all of them - in particular the very dumb and the very scary ones - I will only share my main three.
One is that I will find myself in a boo-hoo situation and not be on
whatever list to actually get in the show, hearing the music woefully
from the outside. It's embarrassing and sad and very pathetic to argue,
"But I am on the list!" with the box office person indignantly before
getting promptly denied entry, and therefore stuck on the sidewalk. But
because I'm an easygoing girl, my remedy is to smile and then seek out
the nearest bar for a whiskey ginger ale and a text message to a BFF to
trek on with the rest of my night. (more...)
Hahaha - my editors thought the intro to my review today (below) was for their eyes only, and my response was "Oh shit, now it looks like I'm writing softcore porn for you guys now..."
In funny news, I hung out with my friend Ryan on Saturday night, and we watched "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man" (a piece of cinematic glory, for sure) - the opening credits play the below video's song and I almost choked on laughter:
So fucking sweet...
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Live - Jamie Lidell @ Bimbo's | SF
Jamie Lidell: who are you in your pressed gray suit with Rivers Cuomo
glasses, doing the hip boy soul bop dance routine and sassing out on
stage with that voice of yours? Seriously?
Lidell came at a good time for me. Last week, I found out a classmate of mine died; we were never close, but both being art majors, I would always see him in the labs at school, working on his gorgeous trademark large-format poster photographs. We were in a couple of art shows last year, and got supremely drunk at my house after a prestigious show at a fine arts museum we both exhibited at. The night of Lidell's show, friends and I popped in at a memorial ride for our fallen peer. A car at a notorious San Francisco intersection known for fatalities had hit him. After we paid our respects, we walked to a nearby dive bar to have chocolate martinis and beers to celebrate a guy we wish could be there to toast with us.
It's pretty safe to say I was distracted coming into Bimbo's Wednesday night for the show. With death so heavy on my mind for the past week, I had called everyone in my phone book to say how much I loved them, making sure everything was right with people I cared about because I didn't know when I was going to see them next. Standing on the ballroom floor of Bimbo's, it seemed so trivial to be at a show when someone I knew was now in the ground, and I never got to say goodbye.
Maybe that's why at last minute I decided to swing into the Lidell show; maybe I just needed to do things I don't usually do because I just can and should. It's the whole "life is short" adage, right? I generally never buy tickets to bands I know nothing about, or don't own albums of, or have not made previous intentions in my planner for. And I definitely don't invite two friends who rely on my word that a show is gonna be good to also come with, wishing on a thread that the outcome is going to promise fantastic. But hey! Life's a party, yeah?
It's exactly how I got lucky Wednesday. Lidell was in town to support Jim, a sanguine album full of sunny soul-inspired pops, spliced with a dash of modernism and wit, as well as big band throwbacks of classic 60s funk, swing, and downtempo grooves. The guy comes out on stage in an impeccable gray number compressed to perfection, flashing a grin to the audience before launching into a dance fit that included gigantic jolts of energy being balled up and throw into the audience as well as head-bashing sessions that almost caused his trademark specs to fly off his face. The backing band only fueled this playful sentiment: we had the trademark drummer in aviators and sweet sideburns; a guitarist with makeup reminiscent of this of Bjork; a sax guy armed with a partial vicoder who was adorned in a gold robe and (we speculated) no underwear; and the keys player, who was freakishly normal in comparison to the rest of the cast. Poor guy.
We were taken on a wave of the best-of best-of's merged with contemporary pop music for the hour and half Lidell graced the stage. A little Stevie, Otis, and Al Green made appearances, yes; the feature that makes him so endearing though is his earnest approach and precipitous adoration of the music he makes. Midway through, we're treated to an electronic jam session devoid of any audible lyrics, Lidell positioning himself behind a motherboard crowded with knobs and sliding keys. Later, we behold a deep croon session like "Game For Fools," appropriate for both a bedtime romp and a romantic temptation attempt, and pop splendor on pitch-perfect and soul "Another Day," part of me wondering if I stumbled into a Southern gospel Sunday. It's not a secret the Berlin-based musician knows how to belt it out, but it's in the way he projects and transforms his voice to adhere to the mood he is embarking on that makes the experience truly remarkable.
Please know this: it's not now that I associate Lidell's music with death, because of my life that happened pre-show; it's so much that the stunning celebration of life in general that Lidell's music encompasses is so bright and original, it's hard not to smile. It seems to swathe anyone with ears, and for that, I can't be any more happier.
Dear Kirk: I think you and Jamie would have gotten along quite well. Rest in peace and love, darling.
By JENZ
Jun 02, 2008 in
NEWS
1 - I am sort of ridiculously obsessed about the new Kanye video for "Flashing Lights" - I already think he's innovative as it is, but for this video he went David Lynch on our asses:
Holy shit. This would have been something I would loved to do in my Noir class if I had $800,000 to blow that semester. (And for the record, "Lost Highway" still gives me the shivers. Every time.). The Kanye video has everything I love in photo shoots: lingerie, fire, bondage, shovels, a beautifully color-saturated landscape in the desert. On the Universal YouTube page (which wouldn't let me link directly to the video, sadly), it even has a disclaimer for how graphic the video is. I can't wait for part two...
2 - I had to take the day off work on Friday not only for my brother's WVC graduation, but to travel to the Amazon for a very rare and very special Ricky Reed from Wallpaper photoshoot. My trusty machete that I always carry in my camera bag definitely came in handy. When I came back, I was able to track down Eric Frederic and try to absolve all the noise about Ricky being missing...it will be covered in a feature I am doing for the Tripwire next week, so stay put. But for now, here is first proof that Ricky is okay:
Thank the lord the man is alright. I don't know what I would have done without my fingersnappin' booty jam crooner.
Also, I need to make sure I get tested for malaria on Monday, too - just to be positive I didn't contract anything. Those jungles are a beast.
3 - The Langhorne Slim review and photo gallery I did went live on Wednesday; what is it about guys in suspenders? Swoon swoon swoon...article link is here and C&P'ed below.
4 - Next week is busy: trying to crash the Beirut and Flight of the Conchords show, bowling with Ladytron, "getting hot" with Jaguar Love (as Kristin would say), hugging my friendies on Memorial Day...I feel this is the start of a beautiful summer!
Now, to call Kaiser...
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Live - Langhorne Slim @ The Independent | SF
The Independent was full of kids
doing various jigs by the time I arrived, and I got a few elbows in the
ribs while trying to snap around. It was easy to see why the running
man was in full effect, though. Tracks like "In The Midnight" and
standout "Rebel Side Of Heaven" encompass rooted melody surrounded by a
great guitar and rhythm line, with Slim's voice sounding like he's
carrying a smile the whole time: "No, we ain't going to hell, we're
going to the rebel side of heaven," he sang with such conviction and
airiness, it was hard not to believe him. In tow with backing band the
War Eagles, the threesome employed the use of a guitar, stand-up bass,
and drum kit alone to belt out alterna-folk-indietastic tunes without
being pretentious. "Diamonds and Gold" has the old-time, dusty folk I
have come to be so fond of from Slim, a sleeper of a ballad that is
both dainty and dirty with encouraging lyrics like "It's alright to
smile, it's alright to get a little happy along the way." Slim also
delivered some well-humored commentary in between songs; when a chair
was pulled out for a quieter track, someone yelled from the audience
"Lazy!" to which he responded, "This is not lazy. It's acoustic."
The encore found Slim and co. personally pulling up people from the audience onto the stage for a full-on dance party, the front man himself running around kicking up his legs, too. I am only bummed I didn't find myself in these guys' presence sooner.
P.S. Dear Ferraby Lionheart: I am very sad I missed your set before Langhorne's. I was too busy stuffing dinner sushi down my throat. Next time. XOXO
Photos by JENZ
By JENZ
May 21, 2008 in
NEWS
So, Tuesday nights, some friendies of mine started going to the Pub Quiz Night over at the Bitter End, which is ironic that this is happening now because I used to live two blocks away from this joint last year and now live 14 away. I digress.
Anyway, the quiz night consists of four rounds:
- a general trivia of current events, this day in history, and other gems you'd randomly know
- a music test, where snippets of songs would be played and you'd provide song title and artist
- a picture round, in which a handout of pictures with a theme need to have the faces featured identified (i.e. Irish entertainers, people who've appeared in baseball movies)
- a general trivia round to end it all
So I studied. Oh yes, you better believe the iTunes shuffle button became my BFF for that week.
Last week, my team sat near the speakers of the bar and I was determined to rock at least half of the music round. It's for a total of 30 points: 15 songs that receive two points for each title and artist listed. I realized I was good at recognizing bands and eras, but not particular song titles: I knew it was the Smashing Pumpkins and Led Zeppelin, but not the specifics ("Immigrant Song," I am sorry I forgot you. My dad is shamed now). Granted, I was not the only one who was trying to identify songs, but nothing like a tune coming on and everyone looking at you for the answer and you coming up short. I drank in response.
So, back to studying I went for last night's quiz night. Classic rock, hip-hop, R&B, oldies, jazz, ambient, reggae, grunge, punk, soundtrack - where the fuck do you start? It's one thing to know genres, another to know artists, another to know what year and song title and who was the inspiration for it all. I ended up just flipping on a streaming radio channel and zoning out, letting go of my aspirations of becoming the greatest music nerd in the face of the universe. I've come to recognize this: I have my sheer love for early 90's R&B and rap, teeny pop, trendy indie, late 90s alternative, Britpop the first and second time, whatever's popular now, and the random classic rock. I'm generally not adverse to trying out new music, and I'm willing to listen to nearly everything just to check it out. And that's okay. And while I know most pubs out there like speciality in their writers, I'm pretty sure me being flexible in what to write about is okay too.
Last night we didn't do too bad on the overall trivia in points: we rocked the picture round, which were self-portraits of famous artists (thank you, art history classes, though I hated you all), and the music round wasn't too gnarly either (I pinpointed Jay Z, DJ Shadow, and The Hives, but totally mixed up LL Cool J for Elvis Costello. Yikes). Thus, it was really hilarious we won the "Best Team Name" title and a round of shots as a result. I can go back to my hole and listen to whatever my little heart desires.
Our team name, if you've come this far, was this:
"What kind of file makes a 3mm hole into a 10mm hole? A pedophile!!!"
(Kim insisted on the !!! for emphasis)
Hey, it got me booze. Inappropriateness rules.
One of my nearest and dearest friends is currently in grad school over on the East Coast (a far cry from our native San Francisco), and I miss him dearly. The other night during one of my sleepless nights, I was watching a block of music videos on VH1 when I saw this one:
Immediately I called him, jokingly demanding an explanation for his presence in an Ingrid Michaelson video. And for being a mime. The resemblance is really uncanny, and if you know Seamus, whoever the dude mine is is totally spot-on, right up to the freaking tweed jacket with the elbow patches.
Miss you love!
Suz and Kimber left this gem of a haiku on my voicemail the other day. Please note these were also constructed at Macaroni Grill:
Your pants are too tight, man
Want a PBR?
I know more music than you
Want a PBR?
Day: Midlake, Minipop, Ester Drag, Minmae @ Bottom of the Hill.
Night: Cake @ Bimbo's.
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How awesome Sunday was in terms of closing out the Noisepop festival, on a scale between 1 and 10, would probably measure a 87.
No doubt that I was cranky, tired, overspent, and hungover by the time Sunday rolled around. This was day 6;. I'd been going to school in the day time, get my learn on the impressions Christianity imposed on Spanish Art, then bounce to a Noisepop show for almost a straight week now. More often than not, I'd also work the overnights at my job because, you know, I'm Superwoman and apparently don't need sleep. But for what I lacked in slumber I made up in ROCK.
My friend Jeremy and I had stayed up trading music until 6 after coming home from Sparky's, so my supreme horror was waking up at 11 to be at Bottom of the Hill for the afternoon Midlake show by 12. At 11:10 I finally peeled myself out of bed, threw on clothes I think were clean, and hopped my two buses to Potrero Hill. Randomly the sun decided to be kind and walking the two blocks to Bottom after exiting my bus felt like death. I immediately stripped down to my tank and took note of the weather.
I met my show manager Lexi at the door, this small wood nymph-like creature with beautiful eyes and a cute laugh, and I knew I was going to have a blast. We checked in at the door with Bottom staff and then dispatched to count in merch. Merch guy Phil rolled in around 12:30 having been hanging at Mezzanine with Ghostland Observatory until the time I went to bed. Really, who do we all think we are??
I got the schpeel from Midlake's keys dude Eric on their merch; here is what I was faced with:
Nine T-shirts, two CDs, five patches, three stickers, and box of pins; my work was cut out for me, but SHEESH, that is a lot of money rolling around. You can't even see the Midlake tote bags on display in that picture either. There was a separate suitcase for each size of shirt. That means business.
I dug around in my purse for batteries, and to my sheer horror I realized I'd left my bundle of extras right were I'd left them after pulling them out: on my desk. Frantically I tried popping in my Cd player batteries, but no dice. I guess I should stop taking weird pictures like this for future reference:
During the set change between bands I took it upon myself to organize all of Midlake's crap as well as make signs of what T-shirts I had in stock - I am such a genius. Lexi was even impressed with my Container Store-style organization methods.
What happened at Annuals was the same thing that happened at Midlake; I was in the middle of reading during the downtime when I was shaken from my pattern for my attention to be called to Midlake. (Is it just me, or are headlining bands just louder?) Automatically even from the back I could see that these guys have "it," whatever "it" may be. While I leaned toward the more key-based songs, because I am a sucker for piano, I still digged the indie-folk feel of songs off The Trials of Vanoccupanther, most notably the appearance of soft electronic blips interwoven with a more pop feel. To know these guys started off with a jazz beginning makes it even better. As I watching "Young Bride" be performed I couldn't help but grin: this had been a solid show from start to finish, and I couldn't even believe it was going to end soon.
Outside midway through Midlake's set I joined Lexi for a cigarette and had a blast recounting the perils of merch selling, Albert Hammond Jr, and Australian rap. I also learned Ted Leo had done not only an acoustic show the day before at the Expo (when, you know, I was sleeping), he had also done an informational panel at the same time as Minipop. Dreams SHATTERED, dude. My Friday show manager Rachel also popped out to join us and it was at that exact moment that I felt like I was in a family of sorts - a drunk, dysfunctional, and sort of ditzy family at times, but one that plans such things like Noisepop solely because it's fun. It's so blatantly obvious that everyone I talked to associated with the festival was with them because it clicked as being a true love. Thus, I was starting to get sad that I was going to have to wait another year for this extravaganza to occur.
After watching the last part of Midlake, I went back to man my post and sold more T-shirts than I ever have in my entire life. How someone does this with a band on tour every night, I have mad props for them. After Eric came by and expressed his gratitude of my color-coded and size-oriented organizational skillz, we started to clean up when I noticed a one John Vanderslice by my side. Unable to contain my excitement, I approached him with the ever-retarded question of "Can I PLEASE have a hug, because you rule" and we embraced for a few seconds while I gushed about his phenomenal show on Wednesday. By default I am very picky when it comes to music I absolutely love (Whitney Houston included), and I related to him how much I enjoyed his show and that I was kicking myself in the butt for not ever taking Rosie's advice and listening to him sooner. That same familiar nostalgia feeling came into play, and it seemed like we knew each other from forever ago as we chatted about his German tour and the Mountain Goats, who he was going to guest play with later this week. His simple authenticity in talking to one lowly volunteer was completely astounding. The guy never ceases to amaze me.
I was waiting around the merch table waiting to see if we needed to do anything else when I was approached by a dude with a drink in his hand; not necessarily anything out of the ordinary per se rather than he opened our conversation with "Are you Jenn? I read your blog."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He wasn't the first one to approach me in said manner during this whole Noisepop craziness. A few people sprinkled here and there have come up to me to say they read my stuff, to which I am amazed anyone would really sit through my banter when they know I'm probably going to end my thoughts with a Justin Timberlake note. Floored, I was even MORE intimidated as he introduced himself as Dan the talent buyer for the festival and that apparently he did his job right because I was enjoying all the shows. How ridiculous this is for me, I'm not sure I can even begin to explain. We ended up talking about Minipop and some of the other bands he manages as well as general Noisepop topic scopes and to be honest, I was completely honored to even be recognized by anyone for anything during this whole week, let alone this guy. I suppose that is the wonder that is this festival: bringing people together for a common love of music.
ILU NP!
Shortly after I came down from being girly giddy, I hopped a bus and decided to skip any of Cake's opening bands for this party instead: FLAUTA NIGHT.
I barreled down two and some delicious flautas before I hopped in a cab to Bimbo's for Cake; unfortunately for me they started fairly late and I had to bone out early to make it to work on time, and the whole time I walked down Columbus to catch a bus I cursed out of disappointment. What is it about Cake that I like so much and that translates so well for them from recorded to live? Is it the weird instruments that sound like sand and rice in a tube or the big trumpets? Is it the cowboy lasso? Or songs about girls in short skirts?
I'll never know, but what I do is that I am NEVER working the overnights again during this time AGAIN. I might need a week to recover...
