Saturday, August 30, 2008

Dolla dolla bill, y'all

I heard that the Lou's Records' $1 sale kicks off tomorrow at 10 a.m. OH FUCK. Megan and I will be there after we get out of dance class. Of course that doesn't mean talk to us, it means go buy some shit and stop bit torrenting like a little bitch.

I didn't find anything last year (I think Jenny found some poster she was going to get for someone else, but didn't...I don't even remember what band it was) but I can't even begin to express the pleasure I get from snarling at someone and snatching the Cranberries CD they were about to rifle past. I don't even want a Cranberries CD. I just like the passive-aggressive confrontations I get into with people over used CDs. I guess that's my way of being intimate with people. I don't get out much. Actually, the only reason I go is in ludicrous hopes that I can build my stupid-ass Jawbreaker collection. Shit ain't gonna happen. Who would get rid of Jawbreaker albums? No one.

Take a wild guess:


Friday, August 29, 2008

Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willlis?

I am taking a Pony Girl Club break today. When I say break, I mean I have to go to work and stuff and am going to try not to compulsively check my e-mail today. Since I still can't figure out that godforsaken google calendar widget, here is some stuff that is going on tonight. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to any of it, I have go to some birthday party shit with my friend because she's into the birthday boy and...needs help?

The Casbah: Get Back Loretta, The Vision of a Dying World, Boomsnake, Silverghost in the Atari Lounge. Doors usually open at 8:30 p.m. (usually starts pretty late) $8.

The Che Cafe: MATT & KIM, Best Fwends, Doctor Bird, The Anasazis - 7:30pm, $8

Also, the lovely and talented Gabe Vega is DJing "Feel The Noise" at U-31:

In case you don't want to leave your house and you are all like "Noooooo Christina, I want to be like you and sit around on my ass" then I'll give you some instructions:

1. Stay in your pajamas until the absolute possibly last minute (in the case of today, I have to go to my crappy job so my absolute last minute is coming up pretty soon).

2. Tear into a bag of sweet chili flavored brown rice crisps while you watch three months' worth of Metalocalypse.

3. Listen to The Holy Kiss' cover of The Cure's "One Hundred Years." I'm doing it right now, nyah!

It doesn't matter if we all die,


Thursday, August 28, 2008

Richmond Is A Hole

Let's get real for a minute. I don't know shit about Virginia. For all I know the entire state is some sick mixture of super-rich assholes, inbred Appalachian weirdos, and Quakers. But whatever the social climate is over there, one thing is for sure: they can rock.

(quick disclaimer: if you're reading this from Virginia and want to correct me on my Virginia history—don't bother, because I don't care.)

So way back in like '98 this band called Pg.99 started up and they were brutal as fuck. What started as a less-than-impressive six piece punk outfit eventually ballooned into a 16 piece full-force punk rock hydra that knew how to fuck shit up. They were all about ridiculous “punk rock” spoken word manifestos and song names like “Your Face Is A Rape Scene”.

Anyway, this isn't about Pg.99. They were punk as fuck and more than a little ridiculous and they broke up and that's where the story begins. When you have 14 dudes in your band and your band breaks up, new bands are going to spew forth like maggots generating from rotten meat. And that's exactly what happened.

Let's talk first about the most important band that rose from the carcass of Pg.99: City of Caterpillar. As far as i'm concerned these guys redefined heavy music. Their big thing was taking heavy as shit moments not too far removed from, say, Pg.99 or Orchid, and mixing them with long instrumental passages not dissimilar to something like Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Needless to say shit like this totally blew my mind way back in 2002 when everyone else was going apeshit over that stupid Thursday album Full Collpase and fucking Poison The Well. Ugh I remember the first year of that Plea for Peace tour when I paid up to watch Cursive play for 15 minutes and then had to sit through both of these bands and practically OD'd on douche fumes.

Anyway, as great as City of Caterpillar is/was, they aren't the main focus of this post either. Long story short, they released one fantastic album, an equally fantastic EP and then broke up....just like every good hardcore band does (not counting Planes Mistaken For Stars, who rather than break up just decided that they were tired of whining about how no girls will love them and figured they might as well grow their hair out, start drinking whiskey and put on a serious bearded-tough-guy act. Yeah assholes, I remember when you were on Deep Elm even if you don't.) I call it the “Level Plane Curse.” So CoC was gone—leaving nothing behind save one unreleased song, some great live videos and a whole bunch of sad dudes with beards (or handlebar mustaches.)

(Check out City of Caterpillar on Youtube and watch the video of "Driving Spain Up a Wall" to witness their final, unrecorded song and see what the world is totally missing out on.)

[Editor's Note: Here's the video, dudes:]

The death of City of Caterpillar in 2004 takes us closer to the present day, as a lot of the bands that emerged from this hollow cocoon are still around as glorious butterflies (get it? caterpillar....butterfly??) First we have Malady, which ditched the post-rock and added a slight grunge aspect. Yeah, I know, grunge sucks, but these guys didn't. They released one pretty good album and broke up (what's with these dudes?) So now, in 2008, we are left with two bands formed and fronted by ex members of the City of Caterpillar/Pg.99 brain trust: Verse En Coma and Ghastly City Sleep.

Let's get Ghastly out of the way because even they're not the subject of this post either: they're good. Their self-titled debut just came out a little while ago on Robotic Empire and you should pick it up. A lot of the instrumentation is mellow and borderline ambient, and the vocals are hushed and serene. The whole album has a glacial, ethereal quality that I find very soothing. No grindcore breakdowns here folks!

So anyway, on to the album I really wanted to talk about: Verse En Coma and their debut EP Rialto. All the way back in fucking 2006 these dudes posted an unmixed, untitled demo, and just now, IN 2008, we have a finished EP. Five songs over two years, nice job fellas. Anyway, since that first song I had been pissing my pants in anticipation, because this felt like the true successor to the City of Caterpillar empire. Sure, they don't have the mosh inducing intensity of their parent band, or even the disarmingly beautiful instrumental sections...they honestly share more in common with Malady musically than City, but this time it felt more legit. Seriously, this is something wonderful: shoegaze that I don't hate. Taking the elements I enjoy about the genre and saying “fuck off” to the elements I hate about it. Fantastic instrumentation runs rampant through this EP; especially the wonderfully restrained drumming of Ryan Parrish, who is a great example of a dude who really knows how to fuck shit up on the drums but doesn't always have to let everyone in the room know it, which is the #1 quality I look for in a drummer. "Tiny Speakers" and "In a Factory" are early standouts.

I'm going to wrap this up. Long ass story short: check some of these dudes out, maybe you'll dig it. If you're not into anything even remotely “hard” your best bet is Ghastly City Sleep. Support these dudes in any way you can, because as I'm sure we all know there's no money in shit like this. Buying their $10 record from their myspace or whatever probably means they get to go out and have a beer that night. And for fuck's sake Verse En Coma give you the CD AND LP of Rialto packaged together for the price of a regular CD. What else are you going to do with that money, buy You've Got Mail on DVD? Go see Disaster Movie? Don't be a dick.

Also check out stuff like Haram, Pygmy Lush and Gregor Samsa for more ex-City of Caterpillar action.

I doubt my other posts will be nearly as long and/or serious as this.

-The Good Doctor B

Ham on Rye

I've lot of news from the pony express mail bag today and a pretty serious rant. It'll be like a news sandwich, good news/bad news/good news, no dijon.

Last night, Megan and I decided to make it official. We're going to go down to the courthouse! To buy the name next week (after we both get paid, duh) and turn this shit into a media empire, of course. It's not like we're getting married or anything. That would be gay.

It is mind-blowing to both of us what has happened in the last two months with this project and it is really satisfying to sprawl out in a booth in Churchill's and think "hey, maybe this is something we don't totally suck at." Here is my Mariah Carey moment, if we didn't have the support of our readers and friends and everyone who has pushed their dignity aside to plug us, we'd still just be a bunch of frumpy bitches dicking around on the internet. I mean, we still are, but we are a bunch of frumpy bitches with fans dicking around on the internet.

With all of that out of the way, I feel like it's time to address the unofficial Pony Girl Club mission statement. In our myspace's "about me" section Megan hits the nail on the head when she says "we are trying to find an honest language to talk about music in ways that are useful," because that is the entire reason we began this fuckery. I got so sick of bands I liked not getting enough attention because the writers over at other certain weblications were too busy swordfighting with their friends' bands (not the cool kind like in an epic battle, rather the kind where two straight dudes touch weenies) or certain bands being plugged because their label happens to bring in a great deal of ad revenue for another certain publication. I know what it's like to run a publication that is controlled by ad revenue and it sucks. Our main interest is (surprisingly, not Spencer Krug) bringing our readers stuff that we would want to know about a band without the bullshit of playing nice because so and so might pull their ads if we shit talk a band. The first promise I made myself when we started this blog was that I wasn't going to do favors for friends because that takes the honesty out of my writing and my credibility will exponentially decay. I like most of my friends' bands, although some of them include ultra-offensive hip-hop side projects or fake speed metal bands that I cringe at and look the other way, but unless you put out an album or play a show, you probably won't make it onto the site. We're never short on actual news, we're just short on time. Basically, I'm not going to write some sugar-spun feature about your shit just because you grew a fucking beard or I think your guitarist has a pretty bad case of the cute with a touch of the hot because it's not fair. You know what else? Sometimes I just don't like stuff. Okay, most of the time I just don't like stuff. I'm gonna be honest about it, because that's the only language we speak here at the Pony Girl Club.

For the tangy rye crust of this news sandwich, I'd like to officially welcome Dr. Bubastis as the newest Pony Girl. You may remember him ripping me a new one when I said the Refused were influential a while back, or more recently his Jeff Lewis style freakout about most of the venues in San Diego. The Doctor is not a freelance gynecologist like my other doctorly friends, but is rather fiendish in nature and sports a handlebar mustache. We're afraid he might tie us to the train tracks one of these days, coattails flapping in the wind. We tried to make a video of us hazing him into the ways of the Pony Girl but he and his mustache wanted to stay faceless. It's easier to be a mysterious villain that way. I can give you a rough recap of what happened though. We started out the day by demanding that the doctor procure a flat-bed tow truck so we can put two chaise lounges on the back and drink mimosas in our lolita sunglasses and bathing suits while he drives us by the beach. I like the beach, but I hate sand. It worked perfectly that way. Next, we strapped him to a chair and put on that headgear from A Clockwork Orange that peels your eyes open with tiny metal spider legs and made him watch all the Spencer Krug videos on youtube. Currently he alternates between being in love with Spencer and thinking he actually is The Krug. It's a little weird. We prefer when he thinks he is Spencer, personally.

Megan here, and I must concur that the Doctor is much more pleasant on those occasions when he believes himself to be the Krug. Last time he tuned my autoharp and gathered wildflowers and arranged them in the sitting room. Usually he lurks in the darkness, occasionally twisting his mustache and laughing maniacally.

Next in our day of hazing, we had a drinking contest with the Doctor but we didn't tell him that we were doing shots of water while he was doing shots of rumplemintz (sorry doc!). Next, we lined up all our female friends and had him run the gauntlet a few times while we hit him with pillows. Then we curled his eyelashes. We made him eat a jar of jalapenos and wash it down with a couple Arrogant Bastards, then we drove him around listening to Mariah Carey (and us singing along at top volume) until he puked on one of our ex-boyfriend's lawns. I think now he's ready to be a ponygirl.

in ponies you will always trust,

'stina and megan elizabeth

Pony Girls do it DIRTIER

Megan and I are in the Dirty Mondays video, as we should be. We get down like it's nobody's business. It's a metric fuckton of fun, EVERYONE should come hang out with us next Monday! I might even shower this time! OH SHIT!

The song our buddy Mac cut the video to is called "Hot Lava" by Kudu. Thanks to yours truly for that one...



Sometimes I forget that things that seem pretty normal to me are a little weird when I stumble out of my house in the morning to get a box of brownie mix. I just threw on my sunset rubdown shirt and tied a bandana around my head a la Brett Michaels (yes, I will stay in this house and continue to rock your world) to hide my dirty bangs and old ladies stared at me like I'm in some kind of skinny jean wearing gang. You really think I can carry a gun in these things? I can barely get my keys in my back pocket. And it doesn't help that sketchy dudes come out of the woodwork when I've got my sunset rubdown shirt on and not because they know anything about the band. They mostly seem to think a sunset rubdown sounds like a good idea. I have GOT to start wearing a bra.

Things are a little better now that I've got my brownies, but I am still feeling a little on the ornery side. Whatever man. It happens to everybody.

Hey, remember that band the Organ that I was really excited about hearing the dirty monday before last? Here's a video of Katie Sketch's new band Mermaids, live, performing, "Say You're Alive".

Katie Sketch took a little break from making heartbreaking sounds come out of her mouth to work on her modeling career but now thank jeebus she's back to music. It's hard to find any information on this group, I think because they're Canadian, but you can watch a video of her and her dog getting a cup of coffee on Easter.

I think the real question about Katie Sketch is, how can someone who has won the genetic lottery so many times over be so sad? Homegirl can just say to herself, "hey, I'm sick of being a rockstar right now. I think I'll just go model for Vogue instead. No big deal." So what is her damn problem?

My best guess: other people.
For example, the dude who introduced me to her music way back in the day, as if he knew that it would be the perfect soundtrack to him pissing me off. Nothing like sitting on a dude's bedroom floor with him while he doublefists whiskey and tries to teach you a bunch of shit about his record collection that you would probably remember better if you hadn't been so mad at him for not really trying to put his tongue in your mouth until he was already in a relationship with someone else a year younger than you after he made an enormous stink about being ten years older than you. At least I could listen to the Organ on the way home. I don't know if she deals with dudes like that, but ladies can be rough on your shit too. Anyway, this dude's spirit guide looked like this:

Good old Morissey. The cause of and solution to all life's problems.

Gotta go tune my craigslist violin.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

cheap dates

Hey, remember when I went to see Xiu Xiu and drank too much to formulate any useful opinions? Yeah, me neither. Anyway, that band Fantastic Magic that I liked has a song up you can download here called "Flying on a Skateboard". They're contributing to a mix cd for a zine called Some Things Magazine along with some other rad artists like Old Time Relijun and Mount Eerie. Should be a good one.

There's a new Horse Feathers track up today at stereogum called "Father" from the upcoming album House With No Home. You should download it today and buy the album on September 9th from Kill Rock Stars. Justin Ringle's got to make that paper if he wants to keep singing like an angel.

And from the pony express mail bag, some sensitive music from an Ohio boy named Jonathon Hape. He reminds me of Broken Social Scene but if they were only one person instead of like 200. He's kind of a cutie so I promised him the Tiger Beat treatment as I feel that publication is the closest thing to our level of journalistic integrity. So I sat down to listen to the Herbivore ep which you can download in part on ye olde myspace (if you only get one song, go for "Blinking") and I got to thinking, maybe boys are people too, with thoughts and feelings, not just so many pieces of meat. It was kind of a bad feeling so I shook it off by leafing through some classic issues of Playgirl (not the one with your pops, 'Stina). I don't want to feel that way again.

You put your ribbons in my hair

My theory teacher is a total nerd (the arrangements for the Star Wars cantina song are on the cover of his syllabus) and I am so into that it's not even funny. I spent so many years fucking up and partying and shit that I take school really seriously and just want to learn really hard. So, if I see you send an instant message to someone else in the class reading "do u think he keeps tlaking to waste tiem?" when homeboy is talking about the differences between Eastern and Western tuning and time signatures, I'm gonna give you the death glare. Bish, plz. That's just rude.

We have a lot of exciting stuff going on around here, you may have noticed that you can now subscribe to the blog! I am in the process of setting up a calendar widget so we can list shows in the greater San Diego area and whatnot soon also. If you have shows coming up you'd like us to list, shoot us an e-mail at I also heard something about having a new staff writer. We'll make a big fuss out of it later once we know what is going on and once we haze him and stuff. Lastly, we are trying to flesh out this Race for The Cure nonsense, we'd love to have y'all in attendance and in the video! Let us know if you want to be a part of this tremendous opportunity to raise money to send Fat Bob to fat camp.

I have been uncharacteristically quiet about Spencer Krug lately, I feel like most of the time Megan reeks of fangirl enough for the both of us but "At Mount Zoomer" found it's way back into the CD player in my car and I have been seriously jamming on "An Animal In Your Care." This video does not show a lot of the Krug, but the audio is the best in this one out of the three available. Especially around 2:25. Please note the two biggest "awww" factors; one is when he puts his head down and plays both keyboards at once, two is his wiggly voice. AWWW.

I need to go wash the creepy off now,


Tuesday, August 26, 2008

There's glass between us. You can't deal with my infinite nature, can you?

I forgot to mention in my last post that tonight is karaoke contest night at Penny Lane in San Marcos. I'm judging, still. If you want to grab a beer or a ludicrously over-sized cocktail for cheapsies and listen to me grumble charming criticisms like "why hasn't someone sewn that guy's mouth shut yet?" or the ever-popular "who told that bitch it would be a good idea to sing?" hit it up! If you are not totally tone-deaf, there is money at stake.

I would also like to dedicate this video to my new favorite camera dude:


mes deceptions amoureuses ne me rendent pas malheureuse

I know it's kind of lame and really obnoxious, but I just can't get over how much I love this lady Yelle. Here she is in her new video for "Ce Jeu" or "This Game".

From what I gather, the song is about some dude playing games with her and what a turn on that is? I dunno guys. The last time I spoke French I was explaining in half English to a kid at my work what a grilled cheese sandwich was. I guess they don't have grilled cheese in France? Weird.

I love the part of the video with the three colored lights and I love the geometric hoodie guys with the weird masks on and I love when she shakes her hair around. Her big puffy sleeves are almost as good as her happy face sack dress, the dress she loves so much she wears it in two music videos. Yelle is really fucking serious about being happy, y'all.



Work that sack dress!

In the mood for more French bitches? Get there, because this video is pretty fucking adorable.



Claws out: A back to school special

School started yesterday and when I say yesterday I mean my first class is today. I don't hate getting my edumucation or anything, I hate the fact that I should have graduated in May and probably won't for another 3 years by the time I transfer and shit.

The first day of school is always such a clusterfuck trainwreck that I try at all costs to avoid going. Hundreds of people who are just going to drop their classes show up to take all my parking spots (and will probably hit my car), fuck with my Mbox settings and then try to talk to me and above that, just piss me off. No, you can't borrow my 1/8 to 1/4 jack, MAYBE IF YOU UNTANGLED THE RASTA NEST ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD IT WOULD RELIEVE SOME PRESSURE AND YOU WOULD REMEMBER TO GET ONE. No, you can't borrow my sheet music, I KIND OF NEED IT TO SEE WHAT TO PLAY. No, you can't "borrow" my "dank loop." Wait, WTF?! YOU CAN'T "BORROW" SOMEONE ELSE'S WORK!

Also, don't tell me my Blublockers are "siiiick." They're not. They fit over my glasses dude, prescription sunglasses are really fuckin' expensive. They were also really uncool (which makes them tragically hip) for like two weeks, until some slut at American Apparel freaked out at Paul (from The Mistits) about them. Now they're about as cool as getting your throat stepped on by John Goodman. Apparently looking "cool" is important to a great deal of the population and there are two ways of doing that- actually putting effort into your outfit, like matching or wearing clean clothes or something or wearing your finest sexy pajamas and ugg boots. Okay, so, I am a total dirtbag and do nothing to hide it but wearing pajamas and ugg boots is unacceptable. That shit is disgusting. Seriously, you look like a freak. It's August in San Diego and there's no way your feet can smell like anything but a wet sheep's ass at the end of the day. Have no fear, gentle readers, I can help. Here is my morning routine that gets me out the door in 10 minutes or less:

1. Stumble around until in bathroom. Haphazardly brush teeth and wipe mascara crumbs off under-eye area.

2. Don't brush your hair, you're going to waste 10 minutes on a hairstyle that will look shitty anyways. Brushing your hair is like bangin' underage girls. Once you start, you can't stop.

3. Put pants on. Swat at the pile of black cloth and denim until you find some. If you can't help it, go ahead and make sure they smell clean. I don't. That could cost me an extra two minutes! *Sweat pants, track pants, pajama pants, whatever...NOT OKAY.

4. Select shirt. Band shirts are still acceptable as long as you aren't annoying band shirt guy. When I say "annoying" I mean it should probably be a band that doesn't blow and not every day. American Apparel is also sometimes in the clear if you make it clear that you are not an obnoxious hipster so much as you are just an old dirtbag. I'm into the summer shirt v-necks right now because I have a terrible personality and I subsequently have to show a little bit of titty. I mean, because they're comfortable and unreasonably soft. And fair trade blah blah blah.

5. Select and put on footwear. I keep a fine selection of flats and untied shoes by my garage door. You can tie your shoes while you're driving, quit being a bitch and suck it up.

You must immediately leave and can't look at yourself before you do so. If you look at yourself you might lose what I call the "blind confidence."

Speaking of dirty band shirts that I still wear because they are pretty offensive, here is a video from one of my all-time favorite bands in the entire world. The Murder City Devils.

The good thing about going back to school is that Mondays are still Dirty at the Saloon in Encinitas. Next week you should probably come with us, because we always make time for Dirty Mondays despite the fact that we are both up to our asses in alligators. Last night we left a little earlier than usual but not before busting some serious moves to Chromeo's "Fancy Footwork:"

and NWA's "Straight Outta Compton:"

Fuuuuck Yeeeeah! I love NWA. Hot Damn.

I don't really have any internet requests for next week yet besides maaaaaaybe this Trentemoller remix of the Royksopp song "What Else Is There:"

and just a little hint, we like to get hyphy. Just sayin'.

Ghostridin' the whip,


Monday, August 25, 2008


For a while now, I've had a steadily growing desire to learn the violin. Owen Pallett is probably the guy who's responsible for first kindling my desire. Final Fantasy Has a Good Home really got me excited about the possibilities of the violin. When we saw Horse Feathers I felt the prickle of that desire growing. Or maybe I left my cell phone on vibrate, you can't expect me to remember everything. But what has finally made me decide it must be done?

Okay, before you get your mustache in a twist, I know Gaspar Claus here is playing a cello but the techniques are similar and he is making sounds come out of it that don't even seem possible. That shit is like some shoegaze cello. I am so serious that I intend to abstain from the purchase of any new frocks until I have a violin in my hands and lessons funded, which shouldn't be too hard actually considering everyone I work with just went back to school and I didn't. Overtime, here I come!

Gaspar Claus did a series of videos for La Blogotheque with flamenco guitarist Pedro Soler. The two of them drive around the border between Spain and France looking for lonely places to sit down and play music together. In the first two videos, they kind of chat with each other about music and shit and it's really cool to see how they each bring the perspective of their generation but without getting into a really intense "kids these days"/"shut up dad" kind of fight (I think it's called "respect"?). But it's in this last video where they visit the cemetery where Walter Benjamin was buried that I really feel the melancholy power of their collaboration and the importance of art, of music, of ideas. You have to have eight minutes somewhere in your life that you can dedicate to watching this.

Human history is so big and terrible. How could you not care? How could you not want to make some noise?

Time for ear plugs

Megan suggested it was time for us to get ear plugs at Xiu Xiu when I asked her how many decibels it took to explode your eardrums. I felt the same way last night. I am getting old and in the best interest of having a career in the next 10 years I should probably not finish going deaf. Apparently regular exposure over a minute to 110dB will fuck your shit up. 110 is like a chainsaw. I should probably stop running around my yard waving a chainsaw wildly. Without, ear plugs, that is.

I feel a little more deaf today thanks to Gurtrudestein, mostly. I dragged the Matts with me to middle of goddamn nowhere to see the aforementioned Gurtrudestein with Death on Mars and AmbiDextrose, a bunch of local bitches. When I say middle of goddamn nowhere I mean there is a venue in the middle of goddamn nowhere called "Second Wind." Fitz was pretty excited because he wanted to check out the venue, I guess some dude has been on his balls about playing there for a while. Good news is, the sound is not bad. My rule of thumb is look at the sound guy when you walk in- if he has dreads, hoof it out of there. If you haaave to stay, get as drunk as possible. Anything sounds awesome when you're wasted.

We sauntered in halfway through AmbiDextrose's set and I was pretty pleased. It's just some chick drummer with her dude guitarist and a laptop. Sometimes I get really uppity about people using technology where they should have band members, but I didn't feel that way at all. The flip side of that being uppity business is that I am really enthusiastic about artists using technology to their advantage to not be restricted in playing by not having a full band. The samples and shit were appropriate accents that didn't distract from them actually playing. Well done.

Next was Death on Mars. They added the Pony Girl Club myspace a while ago so I had already listened to them (yeah, big surprise there. Sometimes I actually listen to the bands that add us). They are pretty good and I would be willing to see them again. Especially since they are playing the Leucadian on the 18th. Everyone knows how sketchy the Leucadian is, but everyone also knows the Saloon is down the street.

Speaking of the Saloon, IT'S DIRTY MONDAY!!! Man, I am seriously getting to love Dirty Mondays. Gettin' down with Gabe Vega, some good drank, makin' friends and gaining fans. What
more could we ask for? Well, a lot. I'd like to not turn back into a pumpkin at midnight, for one. I digress.

Last up was Gurtrudestein. One of my favorite things about their performance was the use of visuals. They had video clips being projected onto the wall behind them and kind of just played in the dark. I was into that because from what was going on with the lights during the first two bands made me think someone had just permanently set phasers to "get retarded." This band is loud as all get out though, seriously. I still feel kind of fuzzy. I know being loud is cool or something (I was in a black metal band in high school, I know all about loud being cool) but it's at the point where none of us could understand a single word and the vocals became kind of this droning background noise, which they shouldn't be. Y'all have fantastic voices and we want to hear them! I think (especially after discussing it with Fitz, who infinitely knows more about the dynamics of live sound than I ever will) that a lot of the problem lies in having two drummers. I started out being excited, thinking it would add some mystical layer of depth but was wrong. I just felt kind of stabby after a while. Fitz felt like everyone else had to be ludicrously loud to try to be heard and that one drummer would fall behind during the fills and stuff and the other would try to adjust and it just didn't work out. I agree because saying "I feel stabby" isn't very articulate. That is my only grievance with the band, other than their recordings not doing them justice. They haven't been together that long so I will cut them some slack (which happens...never, I am the Tabatha Coffey of the music reviewing world) because they are technically sound and fantastically talented musicians.

Maybe an ocean is found in a lake,


Sunday, August 24, 2008

Who goes pinkie first?

I am too tired to write a blog that is anything but a serious bitchfest about my personal life turning into bullshit and the Mozy Cafe running out of beans for my burrito after serving 16 people before me that ordered after me. You guys seriously fucked up and now I am going to cry about it on the internet. Take that, fucking assholes. At least Rico's always does good by me. You people (Canadians) that are not in San Diego just don't understand the importance of burritos. Everywhere else you guys are all like "omigawd yeah I love burritos! Let's totally go to Baja Fresh/Chipotle/La Salsa today! Cool!" SUCK IT.

Anyways, if you are still living in 1998 and think punk is cool, check out Gurtrudestein. They are playing a show tonight, here is the info:

I have to go summon Satan to help me pick out an outfit now.


Friday, August 22, 2008

a very special two monthiversary

wow, what an amazing two months it's been. We've done so much and yet we've only just begun. Stina and I got a party going to celebrate all that these ponies have accomplished. Stevens Seagalll was there to catch the whole thing on film. Here's some highlights from our rager. Y'all missed out.

mark your calendars

As you may be aware (no, not "may", "fucking should") my birthday is now less than a month away. September 21st, mark your calendars. What do I want for my birthday, you ask?

In the best of all possible worlds I would be standing in the front row at a Sunset Rubdown show just soaking it all in, like this person did.

In a perfect world, they would let me shake a tambourine and sing back up. Sadly, Mr. Krug seems to have forgotten my birthday. What the fuck dude? I'm pretty sure you glanced at me at least three times like a month ago and yet you choose to go on some kind of hell-tour during with my birthday month that takes you down the savage east coast, through the bleak midwest and into the perverse, corrupt heart of the drrty south but not to Paradise, California? It's enough to make me want to leave town.

Well, that and the fact that I already want to leave town. I'm having a rough week. I'm not even doing my ponygirl homework this week. On my free time I'm mostly just dicking around on my guitar and yelling or reading some Charlotte Bronte and trying not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Got the first world blues. My hair don't look right.

Also fucking up my birthday: Flight of the Conchords. My other best of all possible worlds scenario involves them in my backyard, cupcakes and a trampoline, but get this: Jemaine just got fucking married. To a redhead, true, but that aint gonna fill the hole in my heart and I'm not that into Brett. Also, they will be performing in New York the two days before my birthday. Sigh. Sunset Rubdown is in NY on the 16th. Maybe I should start hitch-hiking now?

Naw, I will probably just go to work on my birthday. Do you have any idea what kind of unspeakable sex acts I have to perform to get a damn weekend night off?

Speaking of unspeakable sex acts: Saturday, 5:00, Casa Del Prado, Balboa Park, Celebrate Dance Festival, FOR FREE. Y'all don't wanna know what I went through to get that night free to dance for you.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Adam saw the garden and jumped the fence

I'm going to be honest right now. I've thought about trying to recruit more writers. Yesterevening we were driving to Balboa park to rehearse for OUR PIECE IN THE BALBOA CELEBRATES DANCE FESTIVAL (free, saturday the 23rd, 5 p.m. Casa del Prado Theatre) and The Unicorns' "Les Os" came on my demonPod's shuffle. I mean, that's not anything too special because so did "Satan My Master" by Dimmu Borgir as well as The Beach Boys' "Wouldn't It Be Nice." My 'pod has a fucked-up sense of humor. All of that aside, I was like "dude, I like The Unicorns. I feel like I don't really get to just sit down and listen to music I already love a lot much anymore," (except for the part of the day that I listen to Sunset Rubdown's "You Go On Ahead" three times before work) because I am so busy trying to keep up with who is putting out what album when and what color vinyl how many copies will be pressed in and how many of the special edition art pieces were printed with the blood of virgins and blah blah blah. If any of you feel like you are up to the challenge of engaging maximum snark on a regular basis, hit me up at I'll probably ignore it for a few days because I am kind of shitty at responding to anything but you'll have to get used to it. Working for us would basically be like working for Jeff Lewis, you know, the crazy dude on that Bravo show "Flipping Out." Check out what a day at the Pony Girl headquarters would be like:

Of course, when I say "headquarters" I mean in my office nestled somewhere between the mountain of sheet music and all 900 of my nail polishes. 15 percent punch, damn you!

One of the reasons I have thought about trying to snare some new writers is that I forget about everything. I can't even remember to shower (probably because I don't want to). I don't have an iPhone to remind me to get an oil change, pick up the new _____ album and tear it apart and take a shit, you guys. 31 Knots put out a new album 2 days ago and I didn't remember until today when I had a client whose parents were vaudeville performers. She was also telling me about her 2 face lifts and mentioned she'd get another if she wasn't going to die in ten years. I think she is secretly a 374-year-old mythical creature who was trying to suck my soul into her amulet to stay young. That's my kind of lady. I am not supposed to spend excessive amounts of time chattering with clients but I can't pass up a good story about the days of vaudeville running rampant. Which in turn, reminded me of my favorite self-proclaimed "vaudeville punk" band, 31 Knots and their new album "Worried Well." What is making me extra consternated is that according to the internet, both the band and the label are acting like it didn't come out. Whats going on guys? Is this some sort of sheisty prank? Dickfork hasn't mentioned it, Polyvinyl has it listed in their new releases but are too busy touching butts with Of Montreal to put it in the featured news. I am about to go procure this piece of gold myself and if you have managed to read the blog for longer than an hour you have probably seen me mention 31 Knots before, and thusly should be convinced to go buy it yourself. If not, that's cool...I guess. Here are a few live videos I found from the show we went to. They are unwatchable [Ed: because of the lack of light] but the sound is okay. When I say the sound is okay I mean in the video, not at the Che. Oooooh burn! No shitstorm of comments about how many PA's y'all have gone through and part of the venue's charm is it's level of shitty ghetto intimacy plz.

"Man Becomes Me:"

My personal fav, "Hit List Shakes:"

aaaaaand "Sanctify:"

From some other show I wasn't at, "Savage Boutique:"



Girl vs. rock

You guys need to calm the fuck down. Sometimes we do stuff besides blog and you need to be okay with that.

We shot the anniversary video and it will be up tomorrow, at the latest. You're in for a bunch of wacky surprises. We have also been rehearsing for the Balboa Celebration of Dance festival. We're performing, as you may have guessed. It is kind of a big deal and last year the funding got cut so shit didn't happen. If you are in or around Balboa, come watch us dance like assholes and support your local artistic community! Or at least stalk your favorite local bloggers! Our piece is in the Casa del Prado theatre on Saturday the 23rd and starts at 5 p.m.

I would also like to make a shout out to my girl Jenny K, she has been having a pretty rough week up in the PDX. Turns out, when you try to take on the rapids for mano-el-mano combat you're probably not gonna win. Get better soon, bb! This is a video of Ryan Adams doing "Come Pick Me Up" on Letterman. This song reminds me of 2 buck chuck and a lot of yelling.


Tuesday, August 19, 2008

No one on the corner has swagger like us

I was going to put notes in Megan's post about last night's Dirty Monday but I realized people might not read them if they had already read her post and that would defeat the entire purpose of this blog. I blog to be validated. And pick up dudes. Whatever.

1. If we got up on your business, it was on purpose. Except for that one incident where a drunk chick slapped my ass and I made the mistake of telling the Slurricaine Megan so she slapped the drunk chick's ass in return. Gettin' down is a serious hobby for us, we have no shame and love making people uncomfortable! I also brought some friends from work that are not dirty hipsters and they had a fantastic time, so seriously consider going next Monday.

2. Mind-blowing DJ set. I'd like to see you top yourself next week, Vega. Yeah, that's an official challenge. While I'm on it, I have a request. Kudu- Hot Lava. Kthx.

3. Santogold doesn't sound like MIA, she hangs out with her. I mean I guess Santogold sounds like MIA in the sense that they are both chicks or some shit but honestly, the first time I heard Santogold I thought it was Teagan and Sara and I was like "goddammit those lesbians are at it again?" I hope they are releasing a new album soon and it's called "Songs to Lick Taco to." I'm just kidding, I know they're identical twins. Don't leave me a shitstorm of comments about how I'm going to hell for calling them lesbians.

4. Don't put a half-eaten burrito in your purse. It doesn't matter how well you thought you wrapped it.

5. Ghostland Observatory-

6. Puh-leeeeease go vote for Gabe Vega in the San Diego Music Awards. Also, vote for Get Back Loretta and the Emery Byrd.

We should be getting paid for this shit, we're basically jerking everyone involved in this event off on the internet. I guess they're lucky we think it's fun.

If you aren't doing anything tonight and like winning money and stuff, hit the Penny Lane karaoke contest. I'm judging and will yet again, be in rare form.

nothing snappy today,


drrrty monday

In an attempt to be a slightly better blogger, I actually took some notes on tonight's Dirty Monday at the Saloon.

Note #1: The Organ "Brother"

This is how Gabe Vega started his set and I drunkenly shouted that every bone in my body was happy. This band takes me back to 2003 when I used to get drunk with this guy Jason and sit on his bedroom floor with him and sing along to the Smiths and he burned me a copy of their demo. They broke up a while back but in October they're releasing some new/old tracks. I am definitely looking forward to that.

Note #2: The gross

Christina wrote that. I'm not really sure what/who she was talking about.

Note #3: Santogold "Les Artistes"

Santogold is a rad lady who sounds kinda like M.I.A. I used to think she was totally legit but I've seen like 2 of her songs in commercials. I wouldn't be too concerned except one of the commercials was for a shitty light beer. Direct flight to I don't know how to feel about you city.

Note #4: Feist "Sea Lion Woman"


Note #5: "Should I stay or should I go?"

At this point the notes start deteriorating because I decided it was time to dance. Fuck, I can't blog all the time. I'm not one to brag or nothing, but shit I got down. I was the dancing queen. Some stiletto wearing hussy stomped my foot and I think it's broke but you know what? I danced through it. Fucking awesome music tonight.

Note #7: Ghostland observatory

Christina wrote that too. I don't know man. I'll let her write about it. I need a shower.

the other Note #7: Crystal Castles=worst band ever

I guess we're bad at numbering lists. Whatever.

Tuck yourself in and listen to the song that got me back on my feet after I took a break from dancing.

Oh, and if we told you our names were Emily, Charlotte and Ann tonight, um, I hope you like the Bronte sisters? We're wuthering pretty hard.

Monday, August 18, 2008

idle songs

The internet has been down at my dwelling so for the last day and a half I have wandered in the wilderness. It wasn't so bad. I made a game of it. I pretended I was in Canada. Did you know that in Canada it's always winter and never Christmas? It is a joyless life the poor oppressed people of Canada live. I don't know how they find the resilience of spirit to make so much damn good music.

Here is an example of a typical music video in Canada.

To be clear, I fucking love Frog Eyes despite never really knowing what the hell he's talking about (feelings that I can't quite verbalize?), but look at this, look at the fear and pain in their eyes. They are clearly victims of the society they are rebelling against.

The only good thing about Canada is that I think they have a lot of maple syrup and therefore must eat pancakes and waffles all the time. And french toast too. French toast is the best.

One time I was cleaning out my closet and suddenly I was in a snowy wood and I thought I was in Canada but it turns out my room is just really messy. Sucks dude. And when we talk about (aboot?) Canadians loving us, we are really talking about two dudes who left us comments on the youtube. Just to be clear. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my three volume novel and my needlework. It's Victorian day bitches.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

The Pony Girl Club presents: A Race for The Cure

I can't figure out why Canadians love us so much, I talked so much shit on them in our first vlog. I called them a godless people, I asked if they knew what shoes were and I asked if they even have a government. Why do you like the abuse, Canada?

But this here is Amurrica. You know what Amurricans love? Besides parking rusty Mercury Comets on thinning lawns and savoring a Miller High Life (protesting Budweiser since Stella Artois bought them out)? Running to raise money for shit. At least, white upper middle class Amurricans do. We are gonna get on that bandwagon right quick with our own 5/10/whateverK fun run/Edgar Allan Poe-try reading to raise money to help Robert Smith lose some weight. Our seriously gothy coiffed friend is getting a little hammer-assed and we're not going to sit around watching him pound buckets of KFC until he hits orca status and starts wearing muumuus like 85% of his fans. We'll announce more info as we secure the location and decide a time and date, but get your finest tragically ripped fishnets and doc martens ready. Oh, and don't forget your running shorts, dudes.

We are doing this because (mostly because Megan got a little tipsy at stone steps and blurted it out) Robert Smith currently has the sex appeal of a school bus fire (thank you Greg Giraldo for using that in the Bob Saget roast). I'm pretty sure Fat Bob has worn the same outfit since the Trilogy DVD. When I say "the same" I mean he can't get it off and probably showers in it. If he showers...

If you're still not all that convinced, check this out:

Okay, so he wasn't that great in the first place but look at that ham hock of a neck! WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM!

In addition to the Race for The Cure, we are putting together a compilation CD of Cure cover songs called "Fatflowers: Trimspa worked for Anna Nicole Smith" that will be sold to cover the costs of my drinking problem to fund Fat Bob's trip to fat camp. A tentative track listing is as follows:

1. Let's Go to The Gym
2. Fatsong
3. Friday I'm Bulimic
4. Just Like Cheetos
5. Killing a Fatty
6. Burn (calories)
7. Close to Thin
8. In Between Diets
9. Fatscination Street
10. Pictures of Cellulite

I hope we can count on you, darling readers, to help make this a success! In the meantime, here are a few Cure videos, in order of increasing weird gothyness/fat.

A Forest:

Let's Go to Bed:

and a recent live video, this one is dedicated to Jenni, The Love Cats:

don't make me savor the metallic aftertaste of disappointment alone,


Saturday, August 16, 2008

I won't rest until I don't care

I didn't really do my homework before we went to see Xiu Xiu last night. I mean, I did go to but I mostly just dicked around looking at pictures and reading the haikus Jamie Stewart writes for people. I fucking love haiku.

So anyway, when Xiu Xiu took the stage, I was actually surprised to see that Jamie Stewart is a guitar man. It is probably because I'm ignorant or some shit but when I listen to Xiu Xiu recordings in most songs the last thing I really think about noticing is a guitar. That's just the magic of technology I guess.

Xiu Xiu is absolutely amazing to watch. There is incredible tension and energy. Noises that seem random and chaotic on record make more sense live. You can see the band's awareness of each other. You can see them anticipating sounds, watching each other, and those interactions create a kind of context for the chaos. I was especially impressed with the drummer Ches Smith, and not just because he is foxy and really tall. Homeboy is by far the sweatiest guy in the band and he just pulls beats out of nowhere.

For me, the highlight of the show was when Jamie Stewart busted out the autoharp. I couldn't restrain myself from shouting, "OH YES!" when I saw him plug it in. I'm really excited about autoharps since I found one in my garage a couple weeks ago. It was awesome to see him just fucking rock with it. He does the same kind of rockstar lunge with the autoharp that he does with his guitar. It is probably the most masculine posture it is possible to assume while playing such an instrument.

I kind of missed two of the opening acts because I was busy drinking on an empty stomach (I never said I didn't make bad decisions). There were a lot of people at the Casbah last night and it was stressing me out so obviously the best choice was to have a couple vodka tonics for dinner. There were guys on the patio giving out free packs of cigarettes that start out as normal cigs but if you squish some magic bubble inside them they turn into menthols. Didn't colonists used to give out cigarettes to indigenous peoples to gain their trust and then trick them into shit by exploiting their addiction? I think I remember something like that from some history class I slept through once.

I did catch half a set by this rad San Diego band Fantasic Magic. An acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, a bunch of weird noise and dudes singing in falsetto. What's not to love? They don't seem to have any more shows coming up but they did release and sell out a limited edition cassette tape. They also blog about the musics here. One of them really reminds me of Nicholas Cage in Raising Arizona. I think that's really important for y'all to know.

That's all I got for now. I gotta go wash my bangs so the rest of me can stay dirty.

Friday, August 15, 2008

I Do What I Want, When I Want

The last couple of days have been a little rough for me. I get to take home a lot of expensive skincare products FO FREE thanks to my job and I tried a new one a couple days ago only to find out I am allergic to the main ingredient. For a day, I had this horrifying blotchy rash all over my neck, decolete and inner forearms. It has by now reduced itself to my neck being itchy. Sucks. It reminds me of that one episode of South Park when the boys get chicken pox and Cartman yells at his mom about calamine lotion. CAN'T STOP SCRATCHING!!! And don't even start me on eating frozen yogurt and a veggie burrito from Rico's in the same day. Shit works your system.

Complaining about nothing and over-sharing aside, we are going to see Xiu Xiu tonight at Chateau Casbah. Mostly because there are probably going to be a lot of really foxy oversensitive dudes that could be easily manipulated. I'm just kidding, I don't go to shows to pick up dudes. I don't blog to pick up dudes. Who told you that? Whatever.

I have been trying (again) to warm up to Xiu Xiu (I used to hate Sunset Rubdown and look what happened) and I'll admit I like the music a lot, I just don't really know yet if I like homeboy's voice. I've heard they put on a pretty impressive live show, I AM COUNTING ON IT, XIU XIU!!!

This here first video is for "Boy Soprano"

and this video is is for the song "I Do What I Want, When I Want" from their latest album "Women as Lovers." You know, the album they are probably touring for.

If you're into it, go hit up Kill Rock Stars and order it. Dudes can't keep making records if you steal it all from the internet.

If you hate having fun and don't want to get your tits signed (by me, you may kiss Megan's hand but not address her) you can also go to that storage closet in the middle of a swamp the Che Cafe to see some local clusterfuck. Weatherbox, Lanterns, BoomSnake, Crooks and Fever Sleeves. Starts at 6 p.m. , costs $10.

Now that all of that is out of the way, I can talk about black metal. I talk a big game about being a black metal elitist and it's true, I still love some of it. I like shit that makes me want to ride a dragon to work. Nothing wrong with that. I was even in a black metal band in high school. We were called F.A.T.E (Five Across the Eyes) and our fake three song EP was called "Dragon Kick." I was in a period in my life where I wanted to be as offensive as possible and simultaneously play guitar as loud and fast as I could. The good news is, I'm still pretty offensive. I like black metal because it's fucking ridiculous. The corpse paint, the costumes...if you want to be taken seriously in black metal you best be lookin' right. Fine examples of corpse paint below:

My favorite bands are of the Norwegian symphonic persuasion, like Emperor. They ditched the corpse paint after a while and a couple of their original members got in a hot mess of trouble for shit like church burning. Fuckin' brutal. Now they are "broken up" (played a show in Los Angeles in June) and doing shit like voice acting in Metalocalypse and getting endorsements from Ibanez. They unfortunately don't have a video for one of my favorite songs "In the Wordless Chamber" but here is a video that was made in the last decade, for the song "Empty." I just really like the violin.

In a display of total ludicrousness, stupid costumes and all, the video for "The Loss and Curse of Reverence:"

gotta find my upside down cross necklace,


music for the drive home

I would say it's been a funny night except I think the word I'm actually searching for is "magical". Went to the Saloon and not once but twice walked in to the ladies room to absolutely no line. Ladies at the Saloon know that's a song in the key of never. Also, when I first walked into the bar some dude I've never seen before up and kissed my hand without even the slightest provocation. I guess Thursday is Victorian day?

Anyway, you know how Christina is always announcing that she would be more than happy to sign some titties at a ponygirl outing, you know, to do a favor to one of our 7 fans (she's really serious y'all. I've seen the sharpies she carries)? Well, I'm pleased to make my own offer: You may kiss my hand but you may not address me. How's that for magnanimous?

Since this is still a blog about music or whatever, I wanted to share what I listened to while gulping down vitamin water and chomping on doritos. WARNING: this video contains titties. I have been seriously digging on this song but only in the middle of the night. It's by Deep Sleepover (Michael Doersken of Sunset Rubdown y'all) and I kind of don't want to spoil it by listening to it during the day. The song is called "Downtown Clown". It sounds really good loud except the saxophone solo kind of hurts my ears at the volume that I like the rest of the song, so watch out for that.

I like this song so much I'm tempted to write really douchy meaningless things about it and pretend that I write for pitchfork. When I listen to Deep Sleepover, it will always be my favorite part of summer, the end of summer: August. Windows down, heater on. The wind in my hair might as well be familiar hands and the heavy reverb sends echoes through my core that reach my earliest childhood memories of thinking clowns were really fucking scary. Man, I am still kind of scared of clowns. And I will ask myself, should I really be driving and the answer is already there and the answer is always already yes because I am already driving and anyway I am only doubting myself because I am overtired but I am too tired to sleep and too tired not to write run on sentences and apparently not tired enough to correct them. I take the dark roads, the windy roads, the roads that smell like lagoon dirt where bunnies run haphazard in the street and I have to slam on the brakes a few times to save them and music is like that you know?

Yeah, you know what I mean.

Anyway, I think tomorrow night we're gonna go see Xiu Xiu at the Casbah and it should be good times. I'm gonna go spoon my kitty and see if the tv can't sing me to sleep.

Oh fuck, P.S.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

living in a tree

For reasons that are hard to explain, I have a serious boner for music that's recorded live or otherwise shittily. When I hear something and it hits the little "over-produced" mark in my head it's dead to me. I don't know what exactly sets me off, but I'm not talking about artists who use their studio time to polish their sound in an idiosyncratic way. I have no problem with things being mixed well, but I feel like a lot of people do too much. But what do I know? I like it when I'm listening to music and I hear somebody cough or mutter or a door slam or somebody fucks up. Y'all know I love shit like the daytrotter sessions and black cab sessions. Arcade Fire playing in an elevator? Fuck yeah!

I want to be the guy who tears up the magazine. If anyone needs a guy like that in their band, just shoot me an email.

Anyway, that video comes from a place called La Blogotheque. Their website is in a bunch of damn French but it's not hard to figure out where the videos are and several stories specify that they are en anglais. One of their latest featured "Concerts a Emporter" (take-out shows) is a pretty lady with a really pretty voice named Priscilla Ahn.

I fully support doing your job in your pjs.

Watching her, I wish that this was a teaser for some musical shot in black and white about either a city girl fleeing to the country to find her self or about a country girl running away to the city to realize her big dreams. Or maybe some combination, like country girl goes to the city, hates it and goes back home, like a modern Wizard of Oz story. Or her and Zoey Deschanel could play sisters who roam the countryside and sing for a living. I would pay the full price of admission to see any of those hypothetical movies. Film makers, get on it.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Baby, baby I've loved you a long time...

I don't think you guys understand how hard it is to run a blog. I have to wake up around noon, sit around in my pajamas and pick my nail polish off while sifting through thousands of myspace friend requests trying to find new-ish local bands to write about. Usually I get through a whopping, oh, say...4? I usually get irritated and go listen to a band I already like and look at funny pictures of cats on the internet.

I'm just yanking your chain, today is the first time I have ever done that.

In your local events news, our buddy Zach (from Robot Population and Rigor Mortis Boner) told us that his buddy, Blaine Todd is "bringing the Vista" to the Beauty Bar SD tonight. His internet moniker is apparently "Heavy Mellow" but according to his URL and the Beauty Bar propaganda it's "Secret Mouse?" Figure your shit out dude. I also happened to notice he has no videos. I would like to offer right here, right now, on the internet, our services. Many of you know we are fine filmmakers. Who doesn't want a partially-handheld-shot-on-a-handicam-half-in-night vision music video directed and edited by the Pony Girl Club? NOBODY. Anyways, it's free and shouldn't be too packed with American Apparel and ironic mustaches since it is a Wednesday. Stop being a dick and support your local musicians.

On a completely unrelated note, Does It Offend You, Yeah? has a video out for their "upcoming single" named after one of my favorite movies. "Dawn of The Dead." I found these guys checking out who Nine Inch Nails was bringing with them on the "Gays in The Sky" tour. A lot of their songs sound the same, but these are two I am really jammin' on. The second video is for "Epic Last Song" and I dig it because they have a theremin loop. Y'all know how I feel about theremins.

time to pick a new nail polish color,


Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Funyuns are not just for stoners goddammit

I am slightly suffering from the Mandarin curse this morning, so advance apologies for...well, everything. The good news is, my hair still smells awesome. In my defense, I haven't gotten even a little drunk since my trainwreck birthday.

Last night we hit up The Saloon in Encinitas for that Dirty Mondays business and I, for one, am pretty pleased. Megan was all stressed out because she hates when there are more than 5 people in there but next week I will DD and she will get down and see the light. Gabe Vega is one of my favorite local DJs because the shit he plays doesn't piss me off, basically. I know nothing about "spinning," I know a lot about creating electronic music and I know a lot about making playlists on my iPod, but this DJing thing appears to be somewhat difficult. I always have a hard time figuring out transitional songs on my demonPod and that is definitely not Vega's weakness. I really like that he eases you into "gettin' down" mode by playing songs that are familiar and crowd-friendly all the way through and slowly mixes in the crazy dancing remix shit. Personally, I want to know how much of the stuff he uses is already remixed and how much of it he does himself. I think I'm the only person in the county, nay, the state, that wants to know that though. MEH.

All in all, I am pleased that I don't have to drive down to the Whistle Stop to feel like I've gotten out of the suburban cougar-infested hellforest I live in (I only get uppity every couple of months, don't think I'm talkin' shit on North County...I'll do that later). Sorry Paul. I'll still come down twice a year to play Rock Band dude.

Speaking of the Whistle Stop not sucking, Vega is doing "Transport" on Saturday. I won't be there because I have to work and I hate fun and stuff but if you want to have some drank and get down, that's your best bet.

My final announcement is about karaoke. Do you like it? Do you think you could win a contest? Let me be the judge of that, son. No, seriously, Penny Lane is having an ongoing karaoke contest that starts tonight at 10 p.m. and I am one of the judges. Not because I know anything about music but because I'm an asshole. So for tonight, hit the lane for a beer and bare your soul so I can be really fucking rude.

oh god I need to lay down again,


one trick pony: day tripper

How to Tune Your Guitar

Step One: Ask yourself: Is my faith in the Beatles (by faith in the Beatles I mean faith in their tuning) complete, total and unshakable? (Answer: Yes, before 1966)

Step Two: Put on this song.

It is pretty hard to find a video of them lipsynching that song in which they don't look kinda bored and resentful. Sorry dudes. Tyra Banks wasn't around yet to teach them how to smile with their eyes.

Step Three: Tune your E string to the first note of this song. Tune the rest of your guitar off of it. You will only be a little flat if you do it right.

"Day Tripper" was the first song I ever learned to play on the guitar. My dad always sang it "Gay Stripper". "Took me so long to find out" gains new meaning in that iteration. Apparently the lyric "she's a big teaser" was originally "she's a prick teaser" (no my dad did not tell me that ergo it is probably true). It bums me out hard that the Beatles had to censor themselves. I would love to hear them sing about dick. Paul McCartney has also said shit in interviews about "Day Tripper" being about drugs, esp his own reluctance to try LSD. Sort of a weird conflation of narratives, eh? Some dick hole in my favorite scholarly resource thinks the girl in "Day Tripper" is the same girl as in "Norwegian Wood". I don't know man. They got all kinds of girls. If I was the Beatles, I'd be handing out single servings, if you know what I mean. Hit it and quit it. One song and I kick you to the curb.

Monday, August 11, 2008


In an unusual bout of desire to go outside, we have decided that we are, in fact, going to hit up "Dirty Monday" at The Saloon in Encinitas. We can make anything fun if we put our minds to it! Vega is a decent DJ and this has become a business trip so we are going to seriously represent. I am preparing by dying my hair and doing Murad's clarifying mask, which kind of made me look like the joker:

We are also are going clad in our finest hipster attire. Personally, I am going to be so uncool it's cool. I'm probably going to wear my cat sweater and bring a Brita filter full of cheap vodka that I turned into boozy gold. Here's where it gets important: we are bringing Pony Girl Club fliers that we are going to force upon the drunks, so if you are there and want to hold up one of the fliers in a picture we will put you on the site!

In unrelated news, we are pretty bummed about Isaac Hayes. A tribute:

can you dig it?


I can play 3 guitars WHATEVER

So, I visited my dad the other day. He's cleaning out his garage and he just gave me a Fender amp. YES PLEASE. He also showed me this really infuriating video.

That's a guy named Stanley Jordan and he is so good at guitar I never want to leave my house again until I can best him. He plays one guitar like it's two and then he goes ahead and plays two guitars. He treats objects like women. Of course I had to say something like, he has to play two guitars because I'm sure nobody wants to play with him anymore, acting out that way, but I know it's not true. It makes me wish I hadn't blown off all the scales and shit my guitar teacher wanted me to do when I was 14 and I was like, "You taught me power chords. You fucked up. I'm just gonna go sit in my room and yell now." Damn it. Stanley Jordan just played at Anthology a week ago, which is a nice place, sort of an upscale version of that club kids were always hanging out at on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I'm glad I didn't go because I probably would have punched someone. Anyone. I'm a pretty mediocre guitarist.

Also, it's been a few weeks since I personally posted anything Spencer Krug related and I'm getting the shakes or something. Time for a fix.

That's a new Sunset Rubdown song called, "5/4 Silver Moons". See all those camera flashes? It was like that when we saw him too (Full disclosure: some of them were us). I was thinking, he might find it distracting and there are definitely things he can do about it. He could try either being better lit or less adorable. Maybe sunglasses? I don't know. I just want to help.

But seriously, what is it about that guy? Every time he writes a new song and it makes its way into my ears I think, hot damn, that is my new favorite song of all time. Is he hypnotizing me? Is he a magician? Did he make a some kind of deal with the devil? Is he slowly developing an Irish brogue? Whatever it is, he's doing something right. Without pissing me off. That's tricky as fuck.


Oh man, I fucked up with that last post. Shit is incoherent. I was really tired and wanted to post about that Ok Go video before I had to go stand around and get paid to let cougars/old people/baby hookers be really fucking rude to me all day. Bitter, party of one? A thousand times yes.

I was going to stick my tail between my legs and slink away for a day or so, but there has been a lot of hubub about some shit at the Saloon in Encinitas and I couldn't figure out what in candy mountain's name it was. Until Gabe Vega posted a bulletin on the 'space with a video in it. DUN DUN DUNNNNN. The stupid invasive video-ing style reminded me that there was a dude at the Saloon one time dragging around a moderately expensive looking video camera with a stupid-ass wide-angle lens filming people. At around 2:14 you can see Abby on the phone, Jenni covering her face and me scowling and throwing up what is globally known as the Guido gesture for "WTF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

I recall yelling something at the dude about being a union member and him requiring a release form to film me. UR THREATS, THEY R NOT WORKINS. Anyhoo, according to the flier and shit posted with the video, this event aptly named "The Good, The Bad and The Dirty" appears to be some sort of burfday bash and also the first of many "Industry Nights." I don't know what an industry night is but I'm pretty sure I don't want to find out. When I say that, I mean I'll probably be there. Vega usually plays pretty good shit. It's going to be the masses of other people there that I will have a problem with. With that said, I might just be stomping around my house with a heating pad listening to old Saetia records. Coin toss. If I'm there, I'll sign your tits.

Some Natures Catch No Plagues,


p.s. I tagged this post "bitchfights" because Megan once got in a bitchfight at the Saloon after having her cocktail jostled and if we go tomorrow night there is a 97% chance we will get in a bitchfight. Put your money on us.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

To Whom It May Concern (my future ex-husbands):

We were playing Rock Band with Stevens Seagalll last night but we had to keep playing on random because the disc would start skipping if we actually tried to choose a song and the results were disastrous. We had to do "Here It Goes Again" by Ok Go. I never really got into the band because they don't have a lot of zazz (besides two members having a mild case of the hot) and I am pretty sure they started getting radio action right when The Hives and The Strokes and The Vines and FUCKING EVERYONE did too and let's be honest here...I like the Swedes. A lot. In high school I wanted to be the 6th member of The (International) Noise Conspiracy. It's true. It's probably because Dennis Lyxzen is so hot he's making me sexist. Y'all might remember him from one of the most influential late 80's/early 90's hardcore punk bands The Refused. No? Well, that's why I'm doing the writing and y'all are doing the reading. Because you suck at knowing way too much about trivial things related to music you like. Sweden deserves a post all by itself. Srsly.

So, OK Go was passed over by me but here's the catch. Mr. Seagall pointed out that not only was there a sequel to Under Siege, but that the "Here It Goes Again" video is one of the best music videos in the history of time, due to the elaborate treadmill choreography. Also, the bassist is lip syncing. Not the singer. Whatever, I'm not gonna split hairs or anything.

Will marry for citizenship,


Friday, August 8, 2008

The internet is hard

You know what I miss? Hot Snakes. You know what Hot Snakes reminded me of? Buddyhead. I really miss the old gossip shit, because posting celebrity phone numbers is hilarious. When I was younger, I read a feature that one of them probably pounded out through a hangover in a half-hour or less, called The Rules of Rock. They have stuck with me to this day!

We have been shooting a lot of video shit and I am exhausted but have to go to work and then argue with some asshole (who may or may not be foxy...coin toss) at Guitar Center about something trivial so I don't really feel like posting a huge-ass...thing. I present you with The Rules of Rock. I have taken the liberty of bolding the ones I feel are especially important.

1) Don't misspell any words in your band's name. Many bands opt to switch the letter 'I' for the letter 'y'. This is cool if you're into everyone with 1/8 to 1/6 a brain assuming that you are a crappy jock/rap/metal band. For instance, Limp Bizkit, Strait Up, and Korn are all these type of bands. Are any of them good? Check and mate.

2) Avoid using food products in your band's name. Chances are you'll misspell it anyways. Also, chances are you'll pick some crappy food over a tasty one.

3) Don't wear your band's own shirts. No exceptions or excuses accepted. Don't think the "but I'm on tour and we haven't been able to wash our clothes, it's the only thing clean I had to wear" story is gonna fly… wear the dirty shirt, you're a rocker my friend.

4) Don't play reggae unless you are in Bad Brains.

5) Cowboy hats are for cowboys only. That is why they are called cowboy hats. You aren't Madonna nor are you trend setting. And unless your main transportation is a horse just don't wear a cowboy hat, or you're a total poser cowboy.

6) This one here is a no brainer and it's mainly, but not solely, directed towards the ska bands. DO NOT insert the name of your genre, or something related to your genre into your band's name. You don't see any good bands attempt this. (except Metallica, but they have songs about satan so it's cool) The best solution to this problem is to not start a ska band in the first place, cos not only are ska bands just itching to break this rule and prove their dorkdom, but nobody's scoring gash with a ska band anyway.

7) Avoid using the words theory, project, or plan in the title of your band name.

8) Don't play funk. Don't even joke about playing funk.

9) Mc Hammer pants aren't cool anymore, don't wear them. Yeah, Fred, we're talking to you.

10) Visors on band members (or anyone for that matter) earn yourself a bitch slap. If you have your visor sideways, upside down, or both your penalty increases to additional groin area pummeling.

11) For shows, props are generally a bad idea. They usually stimulate the audience's what-the-hell sensors. If you do decide to use one, make sure it's small and you don't spend most of your time playing with it. Unless of course you are the Beastie Boys, it's 1986, you're opening for Madonna, and you have a giant two story penis on stage.

12) If your band has a cozy fan base of say, five, skip out on the huge rock star banner. It is key to grasp the idea that people don't operate on the if-they-have-a-banner-they-have-to-be-good mentality.

13) Never ever have all members wear the same shirt. This is a ridiculous concept and should not be explained.

14) If you're playing your hometown, don't say, "What's up (town)". This phrase is reserved for the out of town and/or touring bands. You might make them mad by stealing their pep speech.

15) If you're playing outside of your hometown, don't say, "What's up (town)". This phrase screams shoot me in the face.

16) Preaching is for church, shut up and rock.

17) Cordless guitars are only ok if your first name is Eddie, your last name is Van Halen, and you kick ass at playing a guitar with a power drill. If this is not the case, don't venture there.

18) Playing your guitar up by your neck makes you look like a geek. Period. If you need an example, take a cue from a few of the greats… look at Slash's guitar height, or maybe take a peek at where Duff let the bass rest, or possibly look at just how low Krist Noviselic rode his rock axe.

19) If you play bass make sure you have only 4 strings. If you play guitar make sure you only have 6 or less. If you play drums know that if your set looks like something Tommy Lee would play while hanging upside down, you are a jackass. You don't need 12 cymbals fruitcake.

20) Gold hardware and/or wood stained anything is a no-no. Ditto for neon anything.

21) White cordless mics were used by Vanilla Ice, don't travel the same road.

22) Unless you are an immortal rock god, spitting or throwing water into the crowd instantaneously eliminates any chance you had at getting laid that night. It may ensure you getting your ass kicked though.

23) Covering new wave songs, oldies, or current Top 40 songs means your band sucks mad horse dong. The "hey wouldn't it be funny to cover that N'sync song and make it punk" idea is about as funny as a knee to the crotch.

24) If all of your songs are about how much you miss your girlfriend, do us all a favor and instead of touring, stay home geek.

25) Kick out the fat guy, he's the reason you are never gonna be big.

26) If you're fat, kick yourself out, you're blowing it for the rest of the band.

26) If you're a metal band, make sure that you are a metal band before you say you are a metal band. A pretty fool proof test is to ask yourself if you think Rob Halford would be into your band back in the days when Judas Priest was the shit.

27) If you have a DJ make sure he at least has two turntables. We actually recommend no DJ, but if you gotta go there...

28) We take that back. No DJ's. This DJ in bands shit has to stop now.

29) Shave. Beards = blowing it.

30) Don't wear backwards baseball caps, unless you're the Beastie Boys.

31) Use a pick. If you play slap bass you need your fingers broken.

32) Don't tell the crowd what they can and can't do. You're not in Fugazi. If you want to be a cop, get off the stage and go join the police academy champ.

33) Unless you're the headliner you shouldn't be playing hour and a half sets, keep it short. The idea that, "Hey these people don't seem to like us, maybe they just didn't like those songs, let's play some more until we play one they like" is never accurate. Get off the stage. We want to go home.

rockin' ass since 2000, THE RIGHT WAY,