10 posts tagged “funny”
Is it weird I am about equally enthused (and ecstatic, mind you) about seeing both Celine Dion and Lil Wayne?
One day I will see this band in person, all six, even if it fucking kills me and I have to take away Bobby's crack pipe. Or something.
I hung out with Miles at the station after the Tilly show on Tuesday, and we talked about how we could potentially see Keith Sweat on Friday at the Solano Country Fair (!!!! - no joke), but alas, I am going up with some friends to see the Kimber in Echo Lake and will not be back until Sunday. So tragic. I'm NEVER going to see him, ugh.
Anyway, the JET cover story is a pretty cool read and also lists all 21 of New Edition's singles: who can forget "Cool It Now" and "Can You Stand The Rain" and "Mr. Telephone Man?" I'm telling you, one day...greatness...
Tonight I am seeing a band who "look like a couple of bearded altbros from your local community who are decent dudes, and possibly have a long term girlfriend who they will not dump any time soon," aka "attractive bearded alt-men." More or less, I know Ratatat at Slim's is gonna own so hard - I've been listening to LP3 straight since I got it yesterday and I must say, the Indian influences on "Mumtaz Khan" are so fucking sublime I'm already on planning on showing up in my flats for maximal dance time.
I know I have been M.I.A. in the blogosphere, but there are some crazy things I'm going to soon and will be doing, so I am excited to share with everyone when I'm granted access. In the mean time, I'm going to continue to waste time on Hipster Runoff...best ever...
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Live - Tilly And The Wall, Loquat @ Great American Music Hall | SF
I love lots of things in life: small babies, free beer, hugs (sometimes all at the same time, it's true). I'm sort of a happy-go-lucky person that way; little things make me the utmost elated. Most people who meet me will discover this crazy dumb fun "I love everyone" attitude about me within the first ten minutes of initial encounter. It's internal programming that can't really be changed.
That being said, I thought Tilly and the Wall might be the band to encompass this joyous merriment part of my personality. I walked into the Great American Music Hall Tuesday night to shiny silver fabrics draped over the main stage balcony, and I spotted a disco ball stashed for later purposes. It also looked like everyone was dressed in sequins or had a headband on, so it seemed I was in store for a spectacle of some caliber. (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
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
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
By JENZ
May 19, 2008 in
NEWS
And it was epic, per usual. I know reality shows don't really give me the full scope of a person, but fuck dude, I was in love with petite and sweet Ambre from the get-go, especially when she told Daisy to go fuck herself when the girls were in Vegas...priceless...
Anyway, I love bad reality shows, especially ones that concern old 80s cockrock stars who never take off their bandanas. HOWEVER, I have learned not to ever eat dinner while watching this stuff, because I almost puked during the makeout sessions - seriously Bret Michaels, tongue in every girl?
The reunion special is next week, and my favorite blog Dlisted posted the video that is sure to look even better on the small screen...
FUCK YES. OH. MAN.
There is a video being passed around right now of Kanye West announcing (quite vigorously) "I am the number one human IN THE WORLD!!!" and then talking about winning in regarding to having Graduation at the top of the charts earlier this week. It is exceptionally ridiculous and one of the reasons I know I can always count on the West for some entertainment value. Dlisted has it up here via BestWeekEver.
Last night while in between The National/St. Vincent and the Ladytron shows, Elias was kind enough to drive me back to my house to drop off my camera so I could go enjoy "Playgirl" hassle-free. During the ride to Mezzanine we listened to said Graduation album and I finally heard the Chris Martin/Kanye West collaboration; my mind is blown. It is so weird it's good. Chris Martin is so painfully British.
How could I not blog this when it happened??
I got married on Thursday at a very classy establishment.
...except not. It's so mothereffing hot in the City today, thank your local global warming for it.
Things that have interested me this week:
- Jason Schwartman's brother Robert (Carmine) doing a lip-sync to his bro's new song "Nighttiming." I was like, super in love with Robert when I was 17 and wanted to be Anne Hathaway's character in "The Princess Diaries" so I could have (what I thought was) an indie rock boyfriend...those were the days...
- I am the first to admit that rap sometimes doesn't do anything to help its case...that Akon song "I Want To Fuck You," which I am ashamed to like, really isn't the best thing to be promoting. Now that he's in trouble for simulating sex with a 15 year-old - daughter of a priest, mind you - it makes me wonder whether or not I should be caring about musicans' activities off and on stage, and just judge based on the music. Right?
- I WANT TO BE IN KINDERGARTEN CLASS AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How much does that rule?!
- Nelly Furtado in my hood June 21st...stoked but kinda disappointed she's not gonna support JT in his fall tour, so sad...
- The house Johnny Cash lived in with June, wrote many songs in, and was the place they filmed "Hurt" at burned down. This is a bit of old news, but so sad nonetheless. "It did seem like it was the Good Lord's way to let it go, though..."
- How can Genesis even tour without Peter Gabriel?? It's like this whole Queen thing without Freddie Mercury - it just seems so wrong and off and almost dishonest.
- But to end my diatribe on a good note...Keith Richards will continually be crazy and I love him for it. Dear Keith: please just legally adopt Johnny Depp, and all will be good in the world.
- Scarlett Johansson singing with Jesus And Mary Chain at Coachella...interesting...not.
- SNOOP DOGG AND TOM WAITS FOR THE SAME CONAN SF SHOW TAPING OMGOMGOMG. How fucking stoked I am, oh sweet Jesus. I am so figuring out how to crash. The other nights are pretty decent too: Arctic Monkeys on Monday, Chris Isaak on Tuesday, Robin Williams on Wednesday (such a cheat, he lives in the City), in addition to the amazingness of Friday. Tiny rumor being passed around that they're releasing tickets the day of. Methinks missing Exhibition Design might be worth it...it totally brings me back to when I was a huge Backstreet Boys fan and would wake my parents up to take me to the nearest Ticketmaster outlet to start waiting in line at 4:30 AM for tickets. Yeah dude, I don't fuck around.
- There were shows galore this week, I'm also working on a pre-Coachella feature for Trip. Placebo was phenomenal Monday, Jet was cute Tuesday, Junior Boys was dancetastic on Wednesday, and Amy Winehouse/Klaxons were insane on Thursday. The Shins last week were good too and I never got around to posting the Ratatat thing alongside Freddie's pictures. Busy bee.
- Next week for me: Kooks Monday, Travis Wednesday, The Apartment/DJ Jimmy Tamborello Thursday, and Jimmy again on Friday if he's good the night before (...that's what she said).
- Prince and Bjork are playing the same night. WHAT THE HELL, CONCERT GODS? How the fuck am I supposed to choose with that one? (Edit: Prince tickets start at $90, Bjork at $30. Hmm...)
- I've been sort of obsessed with Margot & The Nuclear So and So's for a while...and just read there's not really going to be any touring until the end of the year so they can make the new record...I was such a dumb ass to have missed Richard Edwards play the solo set at Rickshaw. SO DUMB.
- OMG, Tyrese is still touring??
- I missed Air at the NBMA and Rufus at the Palace of Fine Arts in lieu of that Junior Boys show...man...
- I am a nerd.
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?
