Pony Girl Club

Festivus, for the rest of us!

2008-12-25T12:38:00.001-08:00

Merry belated Festivus, from the ponies and their kitties!

Commence the airing of grievances!

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: Jenny Lewis' cloud is lined with bullshit

2008-12-16T01:40:00.000-08:00

Jenny Lewis once again topped the charts of StereoGum's Gummy awards in the Indie Rock Crushes category and I am right behind her on the "talentless hack" chart.

Zooey Deschanel took number one, thank you Satan, she actually has a beautiful voice and is legitimately hot. I'll be a little too honest right now, the first time I heard She & Him's "You Really Got a Hold on Me" nearly made my eyes sprinkle and it has definitely found its way onto my romantic weekend playlist, so Deschanel is totes deserving of numero uno in my mind.

However, Lewis kept second this year and I am FURIOUS. To add insult to injury, I was already mad that Captain Ginger Wonkeye (Thom Yorke), the guy that looks like he is 12 from that boat shoe band (Vampire Weekend), Skeletor from Deerhunter (Bradford Cox) and Ryan Adams and his heroin problem beat out Spencer Krug on the dude's list so a big thanks to the parade of idiot voters for rubbing some Rilo Kiley salt (the ouchiest kind) in that wound.

I am going to face some serious social backlash for talking shit on Jenny Lewis, but I don't care because you can't pull the child actor wool over my eyes. Why am I so FURIOUS? There is nothing especially unique about Lewis' music or voice that warrants any sort of list-topping fuckery. She has that spun-sugar default indie-rock girl mewl and lyrics that don't really speak to me other than on how to end up fucking a guy you've been trying to not fuck:

"I keep on talkin' trash but I never say anything
And the talkin' leads to touchin'
and the touchin' leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left."

To me, being an Indie Rock Hottie means having a relatively impressive body of work AS WELL as having a relatively impressive body. At the end of the day, Lewis is generic, bland and overrated.

This song (Silver Lining) comes on the XM at work and Jenni thought it was Jewel until I set the record straight. The video for this song features Lewis and her poor piano posture (bend your fingers, not your wrists, helloooooo. Have fun getting carpal tunnel!):

Last year's list featured ASCAP Vanguard Award winner Natasha Khan (Bat For Lashes):

who is a total fucking badass (bitch she play autoharp like us) and is much more deserving of a spot on the list, but also featured Joanna Newsom:

who can take her Christian Louboutins and hippie bullshit and kiss my black ass. You win some, you lose some. This shit is either way rigged, or people are just incomprehensibly fucking stupid. I mean, come on, Sigur Ros got 8th in Best Live Act, which tells me the Stereogum voting crowd is into mediocrity and napping. Moral of the story is, watch your votes because you might piss me off.

Still a hair away from corybantic about us not even getting an honorable mention for best music blog,

'stina.

WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP

2008-12-13T00:15:00.000-08:00

Us Ponies are proud to announce our dear friend Paul Petersen (of the Mistits) is taking over FM 94.9 at 8 a.m. Saturday! Go forth and listen, for it may be the only time you will ever hear Jawbreaker on the radio, until I win a Coup d'Etat.

'stina.

Area woman afflicted with Black Plague

2008-12-09T20:47:00.000-08:00

Still really sick. Can't think of anything to hate. Sorry, guys. Autolux has a new song up though!

kisses,

stina.

Clean Up on Aidle Tuesday: Amanda Palmer and her Nazi puppets

2008-12-04T17:34:00.000-08:00

Yeah, it's Thursday, I'm aware. I've been Bukowski-ing pretty hard as of late, sans the writing. So basically what I'm getting at is I've been drunk for easily two weeks straight if not more.

I was having a hard time thinking about what I hate this week (completely out of character, I know) but Jezebel did it for me. Unfortunately, Roadrunner Records fucked up really hard and it unfortunately reminded me of how much I don't like Amanda Palmer/The Dresden Dolls. Palmer made a video for a song off her solo album called "Leeds United:"

And what did Roadrunner do? They told her to cut a few shots from the video 'cause you could see her stomach and shit. Well you know what Roadrunner? Tell Slipknot to go on a diet too. Or at least tell them to stop sucking so much ass.

As much as that's a bummer, I still don't like Amanda Palmer.

1.) I don't care for her lyrics :

"you can tell
from the glass on the floor
and the strings that're breaking
and i keep on breaking more
and it looks like i am shaking
but it's just the temperature
and then again
if it were any colder i could disengage
if i were any older i could act my age
but i don't think that you'd believe me
it's
not
the
way
i'm
meant
to
be
it's just the way the operation made me"

2.) I don't care for the weird gothy carnie schtick:

3.) Her eyebrows freak me out:

I have a lot of friends that really love the Dresden Dolls and I just don't get it. Her voice is sounding more and more gravely as of late, kind of like she's been sucking a sandpapered dick for the last couple of years, and the "angry girl with a piano" thing is getting really old. Especially because Palmer blogged about being embarrassed to admit to liking Tori Amos, the original weird angry girl with a piano. Get with the program, dude.

See you on A&E's "Intervention" soon,

'stina

are you there vodka? it's me, megan

2008-11-25T21:25:00.001-08:00

Howdy there ponies, I'm finally back in the saddle or whatever you fancy citified bloggers sit on when you mash your palms into the keys. I usually just sit on the floor. Riding bareback.

It's good to be back and I've got a real nice treat for y'all, a Horse Feathers video!

"Curs In The Weeds"

REAL NICE!!!

Why yes, that was Joe Haege from 31 Knots.
Unfortunately, it's a long, hard slog to the end of fall quarter and I must get back to the 18th century.

cordially yours,
megan elizabeth

p.s. bonus related video

Dirty Mondays: Stayin' clean

2008-11-25T15:51:00.000-08:00

No Clean-Up on Aisle Tuesday, I'm up to my ass in alligators. When I say that I mean I have too much damn homework.

Tried to get Dirty last night, failed, for the first time ever. I hate waiting in line and I especially hate waiting for in line to get my overpriced drink jostled by some asshole that is going to ask if they can try on my glasses. After an hour, I'd rather not go in at all. Don't get me wrong, I'm not above waiting in line, but like Kim from the Real Housewives of Atlanta says, "I'm too old to do shit I don't wanna do."

Good news is, Thee More Shallows put some new songs up. The real kicker? They're good.

What else is going on this weekend?

Deerhunter is playing at Le Chateau Casbah on Friday, Lanterns are playing at The Che Cafe Saturday, some other stuff I am too lazy to look up.

'stina

The Murder City Devils: The band that made me want to drink a lot of whiskey at 15

2008-11-24T01:15:00.000-08:00

I've had a pretty busy weekend acting like I'm in high school again, from gas being $2.11 a gallon to running from the cops.

Official Pony Girl Club tip: If you're gonna drink in public, like oh say the beach, or a certain lagoon, wear flats. It's not fun hiking a round trip of five miles on some janky-ass nature trail in the tail end of the witching hours sporting three-inch wedges just because you don't really feel like getting arrested. Plus, clomping around like a goddamn Budweiser Clydesdale doesn't increase stealth points.

All this talk of delinquency got me thinking about one of the bands that I really loved while in engaging in most of my teenage delinquency, The Murder City Devils. While I blame Kathleen Hanna for my shitty 'tude, MCD are probably the reason I am teetering on the edge of having a drinking problem and am utterly irresponsible on a daily basis. Rock 'n' roll, man.

I don't remember how I heard about them, but I know I still have all 4 shirts and I really wanted to see them before they broke up when they were touring with At the Drive-In but my friend that was supposed to drive's appendix burst or some lame-ass pussy excuse like that. Fucking bummer. I don't collect records but the ones that I own are prized possessions that are all gifts and one of them is a red and black swirl limited pressing of R.I.P., the recording of their last show in Seattle on October 31st, 2001.

This here video is the only official one, for one of my all-time favorite songs, "Idle Hands:"

This isn't actually a video so much as it is a picture of the album cover, "Rum to Whiskey:"

Fan vids are terrible but at least you can listen to the song and keep reading, "Press Gang:"

Recovering from being really punk (doing shit like wearing cut up Casualties t-shirts to ballet and listening to the worst shit imagineable) and easing back into being a functional member of society was a little rough, but these guys were there to pad my fall. They aren't the inventors of anything, but had elements from a lot of bands that I already liked blended into fun, catchy and a little bit creepy rock.

So now what? VH1's million dollar question, where are they now?

The good news is, guitarist and token guy that is so hot it's stupid Dann Gallucci (formerly of Modest Mouse fame) still has a really bad case of the hot. Be still, my 15-year-old heart. Singer Spencer Moody still probably has at least a little bit of a drinking problem and is still making music. Other than that, according to the internets, Moody busies himself running a "junk shop" named after a pirate and a practice space. Bad news is, he has a beard now. Leslie Hardy, keyboardist and former Hole member (for about five minutes) has been pretty much M.I.A. since her carpal tunnel surgery but I heard she might be a realtor now. Who knows? Bassist Derek Fudesco moved on to Pretty Girls Make Graves and the less hot guitarist Nate Manny is a graphic designer now. Adorable drummer Coady Willis is in Big Business and...apparently The Melvins? Weird. Gabe the roadie and the merchbot seemed to have nothing listed for curent projects, which just makes me think at least Gabe is hiding out in the woods hunting bear with his pet wolf.

Can't wait to hide out in the woods and hunt bear with my pet wolf,

'stina

Feel free to mod my mood, Alessandro Cortini

2008-11-21T08:43:00.000-08:00

I was shuffling through my room earlier in hot pursuit of my glasses (can't see the coffee maker without that shit) when I shuffled across an old issue (August) of Electronic Musician Magazine with Alessandro Cortini on the cover.

Cortini is not just Trent Reznor's go to synth/sound manipulation guy and Ladytron remixer extraordinaire, he's half of Modwheelmood, a Los Angeles-based electronic duo. I got really into these dudes in my first round of MIDI classes because I figured there had to be something that is MIDI-heavy and isn't Massive Attack or underground hip hop. Modwheelmood blends actual, for-realsies instruments with all the programmed insanity well enough to create a distinctive crunchy indie pop rock sound. They are somewhat Postal Service-y in nature but more technically advanced and less...wussy.

The featured Italian love tank has a unique voice and when I say unique I don't mean it in the way that people say Joanna Newsom's is. I mean it's high-pitched and a little ethereally whispery at times but not obnoxious. One of the biggest highlights in their work, for me is Cortini's somewhat innovative approach to sound manipulation.

This is a video of Cortini using a Lemur control surface with a Monome on a piano. OMG can you say "spank bank?":

Also, a video of Cortini with his Buchla 200e modular synth:

All of Modwheelmood's material is released digitally, available through iTunes or Amazon and a couple songs are up on their myspace. "Sunday Morning" and "MHz" are both good ones but some of my favorites are actually remixes off the "Things Will Change" charity remix album, like Home Video remix of "Going Nowhere" and the Kangding Ray remix of "Things Will Change." One of my other favorites, "Problem Me" is featured in this here youtube video of a dot that doesn't move:

Happy trails my friends, happy trails,

'stina

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: I want to choke Chris Carrabba and not in that kind of fun way

2008-11-18T23:10:00.000-08:00

It's been really hard for me to think about what I hate enough to blog about this week because us ponies had such a good night, but don't start thinkin' I let you down.

We've both been having our respective issues, like Megan getting a boob job and me not having a day off for 12 days straight trying to hustle my way into a promotion like some sort of frazzled hungover face-painting superbot. The only thing that has kept me going is Megan telling me to ask myself what Dwight Schrute would do.

That should give you guys an idea of how my interview with the district manager went.

All this talk of being a straight Schruter really got me thinking, I should be more intense about my life. I already listen to the blackest of metals, the indiest of rocks and the dumbest of hyphy but what about all the little shit I look the other way about? Like this guy:

Ordinarily, I would say something snappy like "I would hatefuck that guy so hard he wouldn't even know the Slurricaine tore through that shit" and maybe make a joke about waiting until he passes out to steal his black AMEX and Audi keys but no longer, my friends!

I was seeing this dude for a while before he fucking freaked out because I tried to round first base after the fifth date and he once admitted he has a list of "freeway bands." Those being bands you only listen to on the freeway when you can be absolutely certain no one else can hear you. Who was the first on his freeway list? That guy up there, Chris Carraba, otherwise known as his pathetic musical monniker "Dashboard Confessional." Whats my problem with him? One reason: He's a total pussy. He's a pussy with a speech impediment. The shit this guy writes about is bad, the way he writes about it is worse. Even the crying in the newborn ward is more tolerable than this dude's whining about some girl he is netstalking boning down with another dude. For example:

As for now, I'm gonna hear the saddest songs
and sit alone and wonder how you're making out
but as for me I wish that I was anywhere
with anyone, making out

This guy is clearly a sensitive-ass genius. Maybe he's just a nice guy and like needs a hug or some shit but mostly I want to let him loose in the Pennsylvania woods and let a bear swat at his vocal cords.

Fact: He used to be the singer of a Christian band, Further Seems Forever.

Fact: I am Christian music's biggest enemy.

Fact: Carrabba was in New Fond Glory for five minutes while the original ham hands toured with Shai Hulud.

Fact: I saw Shai Hulud once. It's embarrassing that I saw a hardcore punk prog metal band named after the fucking sand worms in Dune, yeah, but I was very young and I've also talked about stomping around my house listening to old Saetia 7". I'm 10 kinds of fucked here.

In hate we trust,

'stina

You Were Right When You Said "We Can't Always Get What We Want"

2008-11-13T10:58:00.000-08:00

So it's been a rather interesting time in the world of Bubastis. Election night was quite a roller coaster: I went from being extremely proud on a national level to flat out disgusted on a state level in a matter of hours. I won't bore anyone with any long rant about the evils of Prop 8...suffice it to say that we fucked up but it's ok because it's going to happen sooner or later. Get used to it, Mormons!

But let's get one thing straight: Doctor Bubastis loves the 'tang. I just hate to see something like this proposed and passed on such a religious level in a “progressive” state like California. I also hate arguments like “it has nothing to do with bigotry!” Bitch please. You're flipping out about gay marriage POSSIBLY being taught in school. Nothing says tolerance like “I just don't want my kids to be taught that this lifestyle is acceptable.” I also dislike the insinuation amidst all of this that a child being raised by a gay couple is somehow dysfunctional or not-as-good. Listen, these people have to work to get their kids. Just because you got knocked up in the back of your boyfriends I-Roc drunk as shit off of boxed wine with a mix tape consisting solely of “Pour Some Sugar On Me” playing on the tape deck doesn't make you a good parent.

Nate Silver, who I was previously familiar with through his terrific work with the holy grail of Baseball nerddom, Baseball Prospecticus, runs a highly accredited polling website called fivethirtyeight.com. He recently did a piece about Prop 8, saying that statistically speaking if no one over the age of 60 voted on the measure, it wouldn't have passed. Interesting. Listen, i'm glad we still have the old folks who think it's ok to call black people “colored” puttering around, and i'm not exactly insisting that they just die already, but apparently we have to add “voting” to the long list of things that they shouldn't be allowed to do, along with driving and going to the movies (have you ever been to a theater full of old people? They talk louder and more frequently than the most annoying of teenage girls.)

Anyway, enough of this shit. Check this. The other day I was invited by a friend of mine to go see The Faint. THE FAINT! Seriously? Who would do that to themselves? Do I look like a 14 year old girl? I actually saw the Faint once, like 4 or 5 years ago. But I was only there because for some unholy reason Les Savy Fav opened for them. Ugh. I still haven't washed all the gay off. Not only did I have to deal with the entire white belt army, but they were all....dancing. Like jackasses, obviously. Speaking of Les Savy Fav, this video for their song “What Would Wolves Do?” is really cool. There's just something I like about a wolf and bear astronaut duo partying pretty hard with a bunch of robot fish harpies.

Oh and I almost got in a fight the other night at Churchill's. Like, an honest-to-god fistfight. Fisticuffs and all. All because I told some dude that I didn't like Rage Against The Machine and thought all of their political stuff was weak ass marketing/pandering. Funny, so many people loved the band so much and bought all the fucking Che shirts, but did they give a shit about Zach de la Rocha after he left the band? Didn't think so. If I wanted to listen to Rage Against the Machine I would just listen to Relationship of Command and swap the asinine, cliché political jargon for cryptic, none-of-this-shit-makes-any-sense political jargon. Apparently Rage fans are just as delusional as Tool fans. Makes sense, considering they're probably the same people. Don't even get me started on how hard P.O.D. Rules!

Onto “Music That Doesn't Suck” news, I missed Ghastly City Sleep in L.A. Last weekend. Not that I didn't want to go and support them, considering just getting the tour off the ground was a huge undertaking, but I didn't have the money myself. Being a cartoonish, Vaudevillian villain doesn't pay as well as you may think.

And as the year winds down you eventually start to think about your favorite whatevers of the year. Albums, movies, whatever. And I hate to be the guy who says this, because I usually hate this guy, but there just hasn't been a whole lot of music in 2008 that got me really psyched. Any suggestions?

Oh and i'm looking for someone to go see Synecdoche, New York with me in Hillcrest sometime soon. No one I know wants to go see a long ass, probably boring but ultimately great Charlie Kaufman movie.

P.S. After all this time I think I've come to a shocking conclusion: I think my favorite Built to Spill record is in fact Keep It Like A Secret. Not Perfect From Now On. Fuck off, people who think Perfect is better.

GDB

hump day shortlist: I am kind of light-headed right now

2008-11-12T16:28:00.001-08:00

Okay so, on Friday I have to get surgery or whatever so they needed me to go in today to take a pregnancy test. They might as well give my neutered male cat a pregnancy test but that's neither here nor there. The point is, they did not tell me they were also going to take a bunch of my blood. That's just rude. AND they failed to address me properly. Fucking outrageous.

I had a really good shortlist post mapped out in my head. I was going to start rambling about metaphors and bullshit and quote Jorge Luis Borges but I am kind of light headed right now so bear with me as I delve into some music for Southern California's least favorite and most metaphorical season: Winter.

I know I posted about this song by The Silent Years before, but dang it's good. DANG.

Next on my shortlist is Au Revoir Simone. From what I understand, they are a set of magical triplets who play their keyboards in the forest, spending their days in picking berries and singing perfect, sugar-spun harmonies.

I love this song "Fallen Snow" but it makes me want to sit them down and give them some solid relationship advice. Not that anyone should listen to me. I'm a (metaphorical) virgin who can't drive (that was way harsh).

Hey, while I was watching the above video for the Dodos' "Winter" I remembered that thing that Borges said. It's in the Paris Review Interview book and it's something about how the oldest metaphors are still the best, the richest, the truest. I don't really know where I was going with that but it's food for thought as the sun sets on us earlier and earlier and our neighbors set up inflatable snowmen on their evergreen lawns.

back to the 18th century
megan elizabeth

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: Jason Mraz is a lifestyle I refuse to support

2008-11-11T22:03:00.000-08:00

Megan and I have been talking about making another video soon, something about a slumber party and prescription painkillers. The soundtrack is going to be way better than that pussy Gayplosions in the Sky shit your guys' dreams are cut to. We're thinking a little Deep Sleepover (see what I did there? It's one of them double entenders!), a little Bat For Lashes and definitely a metric fuckton of GG Allin.

The reason I am talking about making the video instead of doing it is 1. I have a rager of a headache and have to wake up in the middle of the goddamn night tomorrow (6 a.m.) and 2. I am too pissed about Jason Mraz to do anything besides complain about him on the internet.

I work with a girl that has some shitty Mraz-ak as a ringtone and it makes me want to slam my head in the freezer full of half-finished vanilla frappucinos (going to In-N-Out- for a vanilla shake makes too much fucking sense). I'll be honest, dude's got some pipes. Unfortunately for humanity, he hasn't quietly committed his life to professional musical theatre. He done committed himself to this:

I already didn't like the little mole man for threatening to hug one of my best friends in the entire world with his mind on the internet after a large-scale finance related scuffle but the Mraz is like Sublime: Not just terrible music. Jason Mraz's music embodies everything I hate about dudes in San Diego that aren't bros. It's the Seven jeans and flip flops in winter lifestyle. It's the dumb hat (includes newsboy caps and straw fedoras) in 5,000 degree weather lifestyle. It's the none of this makes any fucking sense yet you're telling me to "relax" and "go with the flow" lifestyle. It's the "if you tell me to just chill out and enjoy the jams one more time I will shove my foot so far up your ass you will shit in the shape of a size 8.5 platform Victorian oxford for a year" lifestyle.

Size 8.5 sounds a lot less intimidating than 10. Maybe I should have fudged my shoe size a little. Welp, that settles it. Off to stretch my feets.

In hate we trust,

'stina

ballad of a ladyman

2008-11-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

Hey ponies, it's Corin Tucker's birthday today! You KNOW what that means. A whole bunch of damn videos.

First, Sleater-Kinney's video for "Get Up". Fun fact: directed by Miranda July.

Here they are live, doing one of my favorite songs from Dig Me Out "One More Hour". Fun fact: Corin Tucker is the reason I absolutely HAD to have the black Danelectro with the white swirl.

Here she is talking about being a mama.

Donuts and chocolate milk? ADOPT ME PLEASE.

It was sad when Sleater-Kinney broke up, but time has brought wisdom. I can be content to enjoy what they've done and what they've done for the future of lady-rock.

"Entertain"

xox
megan elizabeth

one trick pony: marquee moon

2008-11-08T12:45:00.000-08:00

Something about this time of year always makes me turn inward and reflect on the really important things in life, things like what the fuck happened to my copy of Marquee Moon? Usually when this mood strikes me, I dig around in my closet for a little while, get frustrated and decide that my older brother probably took it because he is old. That's when I give up because it's not like I'm going to drive all the way to godforsaken Nebraska to demand he give me my cds back.

This year, however, I decided to suck it up and download the album. Good decision.

TELEVISION--"MARQUEE MOON"

I fucking love this song so much. I used to rock this shit on cassette in my '94 Buick Century all the time. It's a surprisingly effective way to not pick up dudes. Man, that car was a sex-mobile.

"Hey little boy, I've got ice cream and video games in my back seat."

Back to the music... I can't really tell you what this song is about besides rad guitars, but the take-away message for me has always been this: waiting for things under the moon is really frustrating and probably a bad idea. To illustrate my point, just listen to this equation Stevens Seagalll axed us ponies to solve last night, beneath what was either a 15/32 moon or a 7/16 moon. We're sitting in the dirt and I'm drinking twist off wine. "Five N over six equals the moon. Solve for moon." Fuck dude, you know women can't do math.

Area woman discovers time zone within time zone: Boy Time

2008-11-06T18:15:00.000-08:00

As usual, I am having 99 problems and all of them are bitches. Megan was nice enough to call me during her break at school to remind me to study the scripture of Clueless. "Christian said he'd call the next day, but in boy time that meant Thursday." Other shit we discussed included rogue bus drivers, kind of hot but endlessly annoying green peace dudes and Xiu Xiu. Jamie Stewart has dude problems too. Sometimes.

I wasn't a Xiu Xiu-ite until we went to see them at Le Chateau Casbah, but they are a pretty intriguing bunch. I periodically check the Xiu Xiu site because Jamie Stewart is a fucking weirdo and posts some crazy shit, like weird bondage pictures of Bolivian dudes with their dicks tied together and David Horvitz's suicide announcement. Today, there were no such pleasantries but drummer/percussionist/president of the Bay Area Tall Guys Club Ches Smith released the last part of a found sound manipulation project he's been working on called Y/OUR Town. It's pretty cool, he left a recorder on the merch table at all their shows on the last tour and later made it into...something else. In case you're not familiar with Xiu Xiu, here's a couple videos:

my personal favorite Xiu Xiu Xong, Xad Pony Guerilla Girl (fan video):

Boy Xoprano:

I Do What I Want, When I Want:

I am your girl and I will protect you,

'Xtina

hump day shortlist: got my stunna shades on

2008-11-05T16:32:00.001-08:00

Last night when I saw that Stina wasn't going to post a clean-up, I momentarily considered writing my own Clean Up On Aisle Tuesday: the Madonna Edition. Luckily for that dried up old hoe (Madonna, not Stina) I was way too busy being proud of my country to muster up the muster to really hate anything (until I heard prop 8 passed. Sanctity of marriage my dick).

So on to the Shortlist. I just had a couple moles removed and my left hand is still numb so I don't feel much like typing right now, but let me just say one thing: there are few things that these ponies love more than celebrating their joy with some hyphy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I just remembered something about some maneuver known as "the stranger" that I might attempt while my hand lacks feeling. Got to do some more research.

fo sho
megan elizabeth

Always better to over-fierce than under-fierce

2008-11-05T12:09:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of things that I need to address in a very short amount of time, so I'm going to do so in a series of letters. Bear with me.

Dear Michael Crichton,

You picked a terrible day to die. It will eternally be overshadowed by Barack Obama's historic victory. Regardless, thanks for writing Jurassic Park.

Dear Barack Obama,

Don't make me eat my words (vote) on this one, dude. Congratulations though.

Dear California,

You fucked up.

Dear Really Excited Probably Gay Guy and His ~~Wife~~ Beard in front of us at Madonna,

You suck. You are seriously one of the most annoying concertgoers I have EVER experienced. Your relentless jumping and fist-waving prevents the rest of us from seeing shit. Emmanuel didn't pay $800 to see you fucking flailing around with your butt buddy. I was so happy when you got kicked out for like a minute, because I could see without distraction, but then you were allowed back and made an even bigger commotion I silently wished the lasers were real and would sweep into your row. I don't care if it took down your ~~wife~~beard as well as your molecular biology professor buddy and his mail order bitch, it would be worth it. God, lasers are cool.

Dear America,

You're a system that doesn't really work all that well, but at least (like the Good Doctor says) you've officially got soul.

Dear Pharrell,

Baby, why wasn't you there? So disappointed. I would hit that front, back, side to side. Yeeeah.

Dear Lady in the bathroom that told me I look like Katy Perry,

No, I don't. Yeah, I kissed a girl. It wasn't that great. Rather kiss a dude.

Dear Madonna,

I used to think you were a cold, money mongering robot that had a couple good songs back in the day. Last night, I found out that you are a human. A tiny, muscly human that could probably go to town on some garlic fries, but nonetheless a human. I was surprised at how much you actually sang as well as how steady and clear you were. I guess it makes sense, you are the self-proclaimed Queen of Pop. I'll be honest, when you fucked up the words to "Ray of Light" and attributed it to being "so fucking happy" that Obama won, it warmed my icy heart. Slightly. Thinking you were human made me remember being a wee toddler, wearing a leopard print silk scarf and diaper, dancing around my living room with my mom's microphone to "Lucky Star" while my mom did her Step workout. So I guess, in a way, my parents have you to blame for all this "I'm a jaded musician" bullshit I've put them through. One of my favorite things about you is that your songs don't sound identical to the album, they're unique to the tour, but in a good way. The metal version of "Hung Up?" LOVES IT. Your performance transcends just music, or just dancing. The videos, the sets, the lasers, EVERYTHING. The costumes? Amaaaaazing. They're all Givenchy and I heard you spent over $1 million on swarovski crystals alone. You had these amazing satin boots:

but this was one of my favorite outfits:

Girl, you so FIIIIIERCE!!!I'm sorry that San Diego sucks. Emmanuel told me the floor people get really serious and decked out in couture so I had to be really fierce but it was a bunch of old white people with too much goddamn money. Truth is, I'd rather over-fierce.

'stina

Ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaaanges

2008-11-04T17:17:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, there's not going to be a Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday because I'm going to see Madonna. Yeah, it's gay, I know, but I feel compelled in the sense that it is historically relevant or some shit.

Hope y'all voted! But not for McCain!

'stina

We Are 138 (and covered in corn syrup)

2008-11-03T18:30:00.000-08:00

"Dude, this is like one of the best shows I've ever been to."

"Mmhmm."

"They're so funny, it's just like-"

"OHMYGOD she just ripped the heart out of the girl dressed as Todd Palin and said 'that adorable lumberjack didn't see it coming!'"

Megan and I went down to North Park to hang out with The Mistits and catch their show at Bar Pink Elephant. For those of you that made the very poor decision to not join us, you missed the best show of your life and for those of you that are performers, you missed a serious lesson in showmanship. The Mistits are without a doubt, the best live band I have ever seen with the natural exception of Wolf Parade/Sunset Rubdown/any time Spencer Krug is on a stage. I have never in my show-going career witnessed explosive energy like I did on Halloween.

I didn't take that picture because all of mine turned into bullshit thanks to the smoke machine and the Tall Guys Club meeting in front of us, but thanks to whoever did. If you want me to put your actual name, I'll do that too. Back to the show, I don't really remember what they played too well because I am shitty at remembering set lists but I recall enjoying the ~~panty-dropping~~ strange juxtaposition of a blood-spattered Jackie O wailing the words to "Last Caress." Megan isn't even into the Misfits and had a fantastic time. That said, I hereby present (on the internet) the first ever Pony Girl Club "Best Halloween Ever" award to The Mistits. We love you guys. No, seriously. It is, however, safe to say I do not want to see a certain Peruvian hold a cigarette with his ass ever again, though.

When in doubt, rip someone's heart out,

'stina

p.s. here is a video of Barack Obama dancing on Ellen:

Happy Halloween!

2008-10-31T09:49:00.000-07:00

OMG we are soooooo excited! LMFAO!!!!!1123

No, seriously, we love Halloween. This year I'm reprising my "slutty zombie" costume for the "sluttier zombie" version and I've heard talks of red riding hood and vampires circling the rest of the gang.

This is what we're doing:

We're seeing The Mistits, a lady-led comedic Misfits cover band play their LAST SHOW EVER at Bar Pink. 3829 30th Street, North Park San Diego, CA, 92104. They play at 9:45. I keep hearing rumors about a certain president and an even more certain bloodbath. It's gonna be killer. Another bonus is that Paul is going to get really drunk and roll the dice. When I say roll the dice, I mean on how he gets home. OH SNAP!

'stina

Hump Day Short List: How Presumptuously Un-sexy

2008-10-29T22:21:00.000-07:00

Last night I hit up this new sushi place with my buddy and it was pretty decent. That little place in the Ultra Star shopping center. When I say decent I mean the owner dumped sake down our throats and it was fucking sweet. The only thing amiss was the music,these guys had that Craig David CD from a couple years ago on repeat before launching into the Katamari Damacy soundtrack/Japanese techno pop.

What the fuck happened to Craig David, British R&B boy wonder of the 2000's? He had that one song, "Seven Days:"

(fast forward through a minute of bullshit)

and then that one other song, "Fill Me In" (alternately titled "That's What She Said"):

(fast forward 35 seconds of bullshit)

This guy is talking about red wine in a jacuzzi and is wearing a turtleneck, I feel like I should be all like "yeeeaaaaaah!" but all I can think about is a 32 of Arrogant Bastard at the lagoon with a dude wearing a dirty band shirt. Maybe my idea of sexy is wrong, but I think some of history's best-known songs about getting sexy or designed for getting sexy are laughable at best.

Rod Stewart's "Do You Think I'm Sexy:"

Dude, are you kidding? This is what the song translates to in the modern world: "So, I live with my mom or whatever it's not a big deal can I borrow your phone to call her so she doesn't set the alarm in case I don't crash at your place? Cool. Can you get me a Jack and Coke while I call her? Oh yeah, I'm out of cash I'll make it up to you later, wink wink." Fuck you for creating an army of douche nozzles, Rod Stewart.

Lastly, The most unsexy sexy time song ever, Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On:"

You know what's really sexy? South Park's pan flute cover of Gary Numan's "Cars." Yeeeeeah.

'stina

hump day shortlist: dedicated to the one I love

2008-10-29T17:00:00.000-07:00

Okay guys, it's time for yet another confession: I can't get enough Sarah Palin.

I like to think of it as a "hate-crush", i.e. I hate everything she stands for and yet I can't look away. I don't know what I'd do without her, besides feel less regularly insulted by McCain's obvious misogyny. Sometimes I learn things about her and think they must be joking, like that thing about hunting for wolves in a helicopter. I thought that was too crazy to be real until about a week ago when I heard that she also offers a bonus to hunters who can bring her the severed foreleg of a wolf.

It was then that I realized: Bitch is a fairy-tale villain! And didn't you always love the villains?

So who's the fairest in the land?

Consignment shop you say? How indie.

But this wolf thing really got me thinking. This could be trouble for about five or ten bands off the top of my head and probably about 500 more, for one simple reason: wolves are pretty rad.

Today's shortlist is brought to you by wolves everywhere.

Sea Wolf -"You're a Wolf"

Patrick Wolf-"The Libertine"

Wolf Eyes- A bunch of goddamn noise

Peter Wolf-"Lights Out"

Is it too cliche for me to close out the list with my favorite Wolf band?
Too bad.

damn, I love singing along to that riff, the one that goes nerrrr-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-nerrrr-ner-ner
megan elizabeth

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: Did you kiss my fucking broad, bro?

2008-10-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

So I have been waiting years, basically, to get in a bar fight. It finally happened. It was more like a verbal altercation between two other people that I jumped into, so not so much a bar fight (I didn't throw a shoe) as a bar argument. Bargument.

To make a long story short, I told some dude to go fuck himself because he kept getting in my acquaintance's grill about him allegedly drunkenly kissing his "broad" before they were even together. Homeboy tells one of the three dudes I'm with to "tell that bitch to shut the fuck up." I don't stand to be sassed in any way and I for some unknown reason forget that most women are okay with being clubbed over the head and dragged back to the cave. Bitch, you don't ask me what I been doin' you wait for my request to sit down. While trying to macguyver a shank out of a bandana, a lip gloss tube, and a serrated hunting knife, I began wondering where he got his huge dick and manners from and it occurred to me he probs. learned it all from a Nickelback video.

This video here is for a song called "Figured You Out:"

The first time I heard that auditory gem was in a strip club in Vegas. That says a lot. Like daddy issues. Anyways, Nickelback is everything that is wrong with America. I know they're Canucks, but still. Nickelback makes me want to cut off my own legs and run a marathon, using my own severed legs as crutches.

These guys embody the lifted truck/tribal tattoo/too much bicep lifestyle. One of my major grievances besides the obvious onslaught of suck is the dude's voice. Chad Kroger sounds like his throat is lined with battery acid filled polyps that explode every time he groans brilliant lyrics such as:

I like your pants around your feet
I like the dirt that's on your knees
I like the way you still say please
While you're looking up at me
You're like my favorite damn disease

I love the places that we go
I love the people that you know
I love the way you can't say no
Too many long nights in a row
I love the powder on your nose

And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out
Now I did
You wonder why
And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out
Now I did
You wonder why

I like the freckles on your chest
I love the way you like me best
I like the way your not impressed
While you put me to the test
I love the white stains on your dress

I love the way you pass the check
I love the good times that you wreck
I love your lack of self-respect
While you're passed out on the deck
I love my hands around your neck

someone please fucking kill me,

'stina

moar LOLz

2008-10-27T21:34:00.001-07:00

k so my life is a total shitstorm right now so I have nothing to post about really except for this: Ponygirls are not the only makers of LOLKrugs.

moar LOLz

I am a big fan of "Can I lift my dress up for you?"
The answer is yes, yes of course you can.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a couple of midterms to continue to procrastinate on and writing is really too close to doing work for my comfort.

the original LOLKrug
the Megan's birthday LOLKrug extravaganza

Here's a new Sunset Rubdown song that they're calling "Dragon" or something right now.

I think I have to go throw up. uggggh.

take me to the dragon's lair
megan elizabeth

I Feel Like the Mother of the World

2008-10-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

I watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull for the first time last night. I was super excited for it to come out, but I was out of the country when it was released and by the time I came home all the hype had kind of died and I never got around to seeing it. Even with my extremely lowered "As long as it's better than Temple of Doom i'll be fine with it" expectations, I was still disappointed. I wish someone would just fucking kill George Lucas already. Doctor Bubastis is officially calling for that man's head. I don't care that you ruined Star Wars because to be honest I never gave a fuck about Star Wars, but fuck you for fucking with Indy. How can someone with so many chins be so stupid? I swear to god he's got a whole loaf of bread lodged in his throat.

Anyway, the past couple of days i've been busy planning my ultimate escape from San Diego. Why do people call this shit heap paradise? Yeah, walking out of work at 10am into 95 degree heat in October is super fucking awesome. I had to show a good friend of mine around the city last weekend, and I realized how boring this place really is. Don't even get me started on the sorry ass state of our music venues. This bitch originally comes from Florida, America's asshole, and even she wasn't impressed. I'm open to any moving suggestion. Right now i'm thinking of Portland, Vancouver, Oakland, Baltimore or Nashville.

Well, since i'm still fucking here, there's a few shows on my radar for the next few weeks:

Mountain Goats with Kaki King at the Belly Up on the 28th. You should probably go to this if you're 21+. If you're not, you probably listen to shitty music anyway.

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists with Titus Andronicus at the Casbah on the 30th. I've seen Ted Leo a few times, but i'm iffy on this one because his new album sucks...except for the Sons of Cain, which fucking brings it. Titus Andronicus is pretty cool, so I may go. If you dig upbeat or noisy as fuck rock check it out. That is, if you're not too busy taking it up the ass at the Thrice and Alkaline Trio show that same night. FUCK, IT'S LIKE, INDIE ROCK, WITH SICK METAL LEADS.

Later shows include Subtle at the Casbah on Nov. 30th, which everyone should go to because Subtle is ridiculous and awesome and put on a great show.

And, naturally, Wu-Tang Dec. 5th at the House of Blues.

All of these shows are 21+. So...if you're not 21, you're shit out of luck. I'm sure some super shitty bands are playing at the Epicentre that night so you and your 15 year old dick pig friends can like, swipe your dads vodka and totally lose your shit.

Bring the Motha' Fuckin' Ruckus
gdb

What are you doing Nov.4?

2008-10-24T19:56:00.000-07:00

We're writing in Sarah Palin for president. Hah, just kidding, she's a cunt. I'm writing in Shockwave. The transformer, not the shitty band.

Check out this fucking awesome cartoon Tracie over at Jezebel made:

high tailing my way on to the commie list,

'stina

I cut in line, I bled to death

2008-10-23T12:56:00.000-07:00

So, Megan just told me the atheists are having a bake sale in the quad at her school. She also told me that Inspired Flight is playing at UCSD's new performance space/cafe (sound familiar?), The Loft tonight.

Inspired Flight is a duo made up of some dude we don't know and this guy Gabe (known to the music world and the internet as Chavez) that Megan used to sling pizza with back in the day. He's also in Mechanical Cats, Jack the Original, Metrofique and probably 900 other bands. Cool dude.

If you're not doing anything and are into getting lost on a university campus like we are, hit that shit up.

In other news, Jawbreaker is trying again to remaster "Unfun," last weekend they got flutters in their tapes. Good job guys. Actually it's just Adam. Blake is in NYC defending his thesis. Hot. If you don't feel compelled to buy it yet, it features "the 7" mix of Busy and alternate mixes of Want and Fine Day." Adam also retracted his previous statement that "Unfun" would be first available through Hot Topic. That made me want to buy it. Siiiiiike. I'm not buying it anyways because I think it's stupid. Not nearly as stupid as when Billy Corgan decided to release four different versions of Zeitgeist, all of which sucked, but still stupid. You can't pander to me this time! I was actually thinking about buying Suckgeist until I found out about the capitalist wool Corgan was trying to pull over our collective eyes (it was probably Courtney Love's idea). So, I stole it from the internet with smug satisfaction before deleting it because it was making my hard drive suck. As Mattcarr says, you should have quit while you were ahead, Corgan. At Machina.

Welp, time to go bathe this week. I have a feeling The Loft isn't like the Che and people might notice if I don't shower.

'stina

hump day shortlist

2008-10-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

Oh sweet baby Jesus, why is it Wednesday? If you're like me, you need a little boost to help you over the hump. Now that Project Runway is over and the presidential race has become my new reality tv addiction, I think it's high time I introduce a new ponygirl weekly feature: hump day shortlist, in which I throw together a few romantic tunes to help get you over that hump and hopefully aid you in putting your tongue in some lady's mouth.

Today I'm feeling a kind of Phil Spector inspired sixties vibe, and after all, nothing is more romantic than Mr. Spector. He will kill a bitch and call it an "accidental suicide". Oh dang, good thing I'm writing this on my fainting couch.

First up, I have Grizzly Bear, live, covering "He Hit Me", originally recorded by The Crystals and produced by Phil Spector. Thanks for the video rawkblog! You can also download this song on daytrotter.

If you can think of anything more romantic than this song, congratulations, you probably know what a healthy relationship is like. In that case, I don't know what you're doing here.

Hey, remember Bat For Lashes? I still love the shit out of this song and video, "What's a Girl To Do?"

If you fuck with Natasha Khan her bicycle gang of furries will not hesitate to annihilate you. They will synchronized-jump you into the ground.

Rounding out the shortlist, the Jesus and Mary Chain video for "Just Like Honey".

I....
I have nothing snarky to say about this. Not even about the hair. Just leave me alone.
GET OUT OF MY ROOM.

just like honey (honey's dead)
megan elizabeth

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: The Ting Tings are fucking awful

2008-10-21T20:50:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday, a new weekly feature in which we take turns dishing on songs we'd be okay going the rest of our lives without hearing.

For me, today, it's The Ting Tings.

My hate for this sorry excuse for a band is nearly unspeakable. I hate the annoying hipster yelling that has seemingly replaced real singing these days, I hate how terrible they are live because you can't trust a bleached out horseface to trigger MIDI loops properly and goddammit I hate how(instrumentally) catchy that one song is.

Shut Up and Let Me Go:

The only thing I am into is the video being shot through the H.O.V.A. sign but the vocals really seriously grind my gears. Stop announcing your lyrics and learn to sing, bitch. Or just shut your whore mouth and go back to your salon receptionist job. That goes for that slut in Crystal Castles that looks like Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream too.

Don't let me catch you liking shit that sucks,

'stina

I'm not replacing you. I'm all like "I had a shitty day" and it just says "whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

2008-10-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

If I had one of those fancy vibrators you plugged your iPod into you could bet your ass one of the first songs I'd throw on my playlist would be Autolux's "Turnstile Blues."

It's got a good, consistent beat. You know.

The first time I heard Autolux it was on the Sunday evening local music show on indie 103.1 and it was the UNKLE collab. "Persons and Machinery." I like Autolux a lot and seriously regret not seeing them at Sunset Junction last year, I was already there being drunkorexic and making bad decisions but the prospect of a festival full of Los Angeles' most elite hip still definitely did and still kind of makes me feel yucky in my tummy. Autolux is a trio made up of the kinda cool nerds that you ignored in high school and probably most of college, I read somewhere that they met working on the score of some play and decided to make a band.

They're also cool because they bought back the rights to their masters of "Future Perfect" from their label and are the sole owners of their material. Righteous, dudes. Autolux released the single "Audience No.2" for their upcoming album "Transit, Transit" digitally, for free on the internets and I don't want to hear any shit about "the Radiohead model" because goddammit it's not the same. Radiohead handed out a piss-poor quality version of "In Rainbows" that you could pay $5 or $5,000 for and then go stand in line at Amoeba for three hours to fork over $80 for some shitty box set that had like an extra hour of whining and like a dirty sock with a minotaur scrawled on it or some other faggy bullshit. God, it really grinds my gears when people credit Radiohead as having invented the "pay if you please" model.

Tangents of mild rage aside, Autolux is playing on halloween at some...thing. There's an open bar. I might bail on everyone and go. I bet there's gonna be foxy dudes there. More info on their 'space.

I've got to go slip into something a little more ironic.

'stina

un dia

2008-10-17T15:40:00.000-07:00

Life has been pretty rough lately. Sometimes I throw up in my mouth a little on my morning bus and then I just don't feel right the rest of the day. Stina says it's because I need to drink less coffee and/or eat something called "breakfast", but what the hell does she know? She's not a doctor.

Actually, my doctor said I need to stop drinking coffee AND eating soy and try not to drink very much because apparently that has something to do with the fucking lumps in my breasts but I was like damn it woman, that's like asking me to give up gasoline and make my car run on hope. If I don't have my five soy and whiskey lattes every morning, I just don't know how I'm going to function.

Happily, as long as I have my hearing I shall have the consolation of music.
I have recently discovered the world of Argentinian songstress and adorable woodland creature Juana Molina, who just released a new album called Un Dia.

LA VERDAD

It's a hypnotic and disorienting world, not least because I suck at speaking Spanish (restaurant Spanish: flirt with the bussers, fight with the cooks and eavesdrop on your tables) and struggle to pick out words as I can. And words are like the anchor that blah blah I'm an English major blah blah the map you use to navigate a surreal and shifting soundscape blah blah enhance the texture of the world.

ZAMBA CORTA

I think this 2006 profile from Domino Records is helpful in getting a sense of where her music comes from, especially the story about singing in her grandmother's elevator.

Gotta go see if that hot guy's at the coffee shop again, the one that makes me wish I carried around a phonograph so I could throw on a Beirut record and demand that he waltz with me.
-megan elizabeth

(You're writing songs that sound kind of like) Rick James(' songs), bitch.

2008-10-15T09:36:00.000-07:00

There hasn't been too much going on around here and when I say that I mean I am up to my ass in alligators and can't figure out which review or interview to start on because they're all so overdue but I can't bring myself to do anything but wear my sleeping mask like a headband, sit in my bed picking at my newly-acquired auto harp callus and read Jezebel.

Monday, we didn't exactly get too dirty. It was kind of a giant brodeo. Lots of backwards baseball caps and conductor hats. It was like BROstoyevsky invited his army of BROmo sapiens. Jenni and I ended up sitting on her floor for a while (waiting for a gentleman caller) with her cat, armed with a fluffy thing with a bell on a string, the entire Pavement discography and sangria and stone pale ale (respectively, not mixed). Somewhere after admitting I have a horrifying inner monologue, especially during inopportune moments (I'm listening to Carrot Rope right now dude, internet knucks!) , we discovered myspace karaoke. This shit is quite alarming, yet I'm sure Megan and I will get drunk and do Mariah Carey at some point. On Monday, however, it seemed like a good idea to yell Celiene Dion in the wee hours of the morning and that's when we found it. Superfreak. After giggling for a minute, Jenni said "Hey you know what song sounds kind of like Superfreak? It's A Curse."

Dudes, it's true.

Who would have guessed Spencer Krug wold try to put himself in the running to be the next king of punk-funk? Not I.

Another one she pointed out was Beck's "Scarecrow" to "Like a Virgin." I agree, but also think it's a little like Depeche Mode's "Policy of Truth."

Some kids and their damn Beck fan videos:

Like a Virgin:

Dave Gahan is a hot old man and I'd totally still hit it from the back:

I'm not calling a Vanilla Ice or anything here, it's merely amusing that we can make genre-crossing connections. With that said, I'm inventing a Pony Girl Club drinking game (I'll probably be drinking while I play it anyways, might as well make it a drinking game) that is similar to the six levels of Kevin Bacon game. How do you go from Spencer Krug to us in three moves? Bid on us for the dirty pillow cancer auction and you'll find out!

I have to go wash the dye out of my hair now, I look like Erykah Badu but white and with saran wrap.

'stina

Oh yeah, if you're not doing anything tonight, come down to the 710 Beach club (I swear it's not a South Beach gay bar like The Birdcage) to see the Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein. I will not, contrary to popular belief, behave like a reprehensible jezebel this time.

Gurtrudestein: Not a sit-down band

2008-10-13T13:12:00.000-07:00

Last night I dragged Mattcarr down to the Second Wind MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE to see The Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein at what initially appeared to be parent teacher conference night. Seriously, was it parents night? The Oddfellows to started late because of "the game" but still played a tight, impressive set. These dudes always blow my mind but get better every time I see them. The banter was good, I like necrophilia jokes that make people leave the venue. Also, it appeared some of them decided to get dressed or some shit which was cool because it didn't look like some random guy just walked onto the stage and picked up an instrument. They have this new-ish song they've played the last two times I've seen them and it's about ghosts or something but it's reeeeeeeally good and I wish they would put it on their myspace. Hint, hint. AHEM.

Next up was Flight or Fight (their name always makes my brain feel like it's having a user error because it wants to think it's Fight or Flight but maybe that's the point. Stop mindfucking me you guys, ask first!) and Mattcarr said they kind of reminded him of early No Doubt. Quick unrelated rhetorical question- what's worse than Christian ska? Nothing. Ska is the most annoying thing in the world (even more annoying than steel drums, Dr. Bubastis) and then add Christianity to it? Oh man. Moving on...

Second to last were the Unruly Bangs. They're a little more sinister version of a lot of the bands from 2000ish that I wonder what happened to. The slightly mod rock bands, like Vue. But with a chick singer, and more impressively a singing chick drummer. They were fun and it definitely didn't hurt that one of the dudes has a slight case of the Jemaine (Flight of the Conchords).

There was a moment of panic before Gurtrudestein played in which I realized I forgot to go to Gaytar Center to get those fancy-ass "I can still hear you talk but I'm not gonna be deaf as shit by the time I'm 35" ear plugs, but having one less drummer changed everything. I've become slightly notorious for bitching about shit being loud and have upon occasion been internet fodder because of it, so I said something dumb like "so are you ready to get pretty seriously aurally raped?" to Ryan without thinking about that thing where "aurally" sounds like "orally." Yikes. But in all seriousness, they fucking destroyed. They played in the dark, barely lit by the flicker of the projected film clips that consume the back wall of the stage, made a lot of noise and a Sarah Palin joke. What else could anyone ask for? In zealous noise-rock, there is a fine line between being noisy and being dissonant. I'm the resident black metal elitist, I know a lot about dissonance, trust me. This time around, their set felt more cohesive and was enjoyable. One thing that really stands out about Gurtrudestein is their energy. They're not playing for the Matlock crowd and it's hard to want to sit down. Amy has a powerful voice, but doesn't rely on that alone. They all get so into IT, that it starts to feel like an unharnessable force. I guess what I'm getting at is seeing Gurtrudestein is like watching the Large Hadron Collider actually work.

They're playing again Wednesday, with The Oddfellows at 710 Beach Club in Pacific Beach. Check it out. I'll be there, trying as hard as I possibly can to not look like I fit in anywhere in PB.

As for tonight, the Saloon in Encinitas will be as dirty as always, as will I and my usual crowd of misfits (and maybe more!). Gabe Vega is spinning, Mac is filming, some other guy is taking pictures, and some other people are doing other stuff too. $3 well you-call-its from 8-10 p.m. (Jenni and I have to eat dinner and watch Gossip Girl so I'm def. not going to be there before 9:30)

I have to go shuffle around my house and listen to "Dear You" while I get ready for work now.

'stina.

p.s. If you're gonna play spin the bottle with Gurtrudestein, prepare to lose so hard it's not even funny.

check yourself

2008-10-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

Hey little Ponygirls and boys, as you may be aware, October is breast cancer awareness month. Here at Ponygirl Headquarters, we care about the health and vitality of your jugs and we cannot stress enough the importance of regular self-exams in addition to the titty massage provided by your doctor. Do as I say, not as I do, readers! For I have been lax in regard to my tatas and now I see the error in my ways. It sucks to go to the doctor thinking there is trouble in your southern seaport only to find that in fact you've got unwanted developments in your northern business district. Nobody likes unpleasant surprises.

I'm posting a link to directions for the self-exam. Our male readers should practice on themselves too. In case any of y'all ever get a girlfriend, it'll make her think you're really sensitive in a pervy way. Alternately, you could use the knowledge to establish yourself as a freelance O.B. Gyn in the alley behind your local grocery store. The possibilities are endless.

Ladies, I hunted down some videos that might put you in the mood.

The money shot on this one is around 1:40.

Also, from now until the end of the month, the Ponygirls are for sale, kind of. The highest bidder will receive an evening of music, drunken oversharing and laughter with the ponygirls, the cash going to breast cancer research of course. Start your bidding in the comments. If we instruct you to bid on us (stevens!!) and you are outbid, step down gracefully. Say something like, "I get them the other 364 days a year!"

breastfully yours,
megan elizabeth

It's Sunday night, do you know where your kids are?

2008-10-12T18:26:00.001-07:00

All the cool kids are doing it. Come support our homies, The Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein.

'stina

Irish Folk Tales Scare The Shit Out Of Me

2008-10-11T02:16:00.000-07:00

While the rest of the Pony Girl Staff have been out partying all night and making the world Dirty enough for all of us, i've been locked up in my parlor, festering in my ratty old Converge sweatshirt, drinking a lot of cheap beer and bumming out to late Pavement and Will Oldham.

Certain things make me feel old and kind of bum me out. Seeing shows like Space Ghost or Mystery Science Theater 3000 on TV makes me feel old. Seeing Rushmore on Comedy Central and remembering when I was 13 and saw it in theaters makes me feel old. Seeing Bill Murry makes me feel old. Going to shows that aren't 21+ makes me feel old. Pavement's last two albums, Terror Twilight in particular, really make me feel old.

“Architecture students are like virgins/with an itch they cannot scratch/never build a building 'til you're 50/what kind of life is that?”

- “The Hexx.”

Why does Terror Twilight bum me out so much? It doesn't bum me out in that “great band passed it's prime trying desperately to stay relevant” kind of way. It bums me out in a broader, more existential kind of way. Because I think without Pavement, most of the kids who came of age in the 1990s probably would've killed themselves. You can quote me on that. Think about it, if Pavement isn't the band that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy thinking back on your otherwise shitty childhood, it's probably Weezer, and we all know Weezer is just Pavement without all the talent and a serious case of yellow fever. Hell, Pavement still has a strangle-hold on the #1 indie-rock-influence title, so unless you're older than thirty or younger than fifteen, Pavement has had a lot of influence on the way you look at music, whether you know it or not.

But my point is, fuck bands like Nirvana and the Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots. Did the world need any more bumming out? Sure, hair-metal was a ridiculous craze, but that doesn't mean that popular music needed to shift into the eternally stoned depression that those assholes helped create. What's wrong with having a little fun? Why can't you be eternally stoned and fucking loving it? I think Bart Simpson (or was it Lisa?) said it best; “Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel.” Pavement was the antidote to all this bullshit. They were the pinnacle of cultural irreverence. Stephen Malkmus could've been the voice of an entire generation, instead he's just the voice of twenty-something disgruntled hipsters. What held them back was the exact thing that should've been their biggest selling point: they were just as bored and lazy and apathetic as you were, but they didn't suck at the guitar. But when it comes down to it, kids didn't want a band just like them. They wanted more straight-forward song structures. Less abstract lyrics. A singer with a cleaner voice and more choruses. In short, they wanted Weezer. It took a Harvard education to figure out that stoner kids didn't want a stoner band, they wanted a clean-cut band that could appeal to stoners. Either way, kids had their “feel good” band that made them want to go skateboarding with their friends instead of hang themselves by their ceiling fans, and the world was a better place because of it. I guess that's why i'll never fault Weezer for essentially being Pavement-lite—because in my book they were both forces for good.

Wait, back to my real point. Why does Terror Twilight do the very thing i've just canonized Pavement for NEVER doing?

I guess mainly because it's where Pavement really starts to act its age. The songs are tighter, quieter, more focused. It essentially sounds like a Malkmus solo album. I guess the threat of Y2K and a cultural apocalypse was enough to make even the Malk man re-evaluate where he fits in the grand scheme of things. But I wanted Pavement to be the band that laughed at all that shit. Say “fuck off” to the hyper-paranoid pack rats and just keep doing what they had been doing. But I guess they reached a breaking point. Their “Terror Twilight” if you will. Was Stephen Malkmus aging? Was he ready to accept the graying hair the aching back and his new role as respected Elder Statesmen of indie rock? I guess so. I guess that's better and more respectable than becoming a crazy ass recluse like Jeff Mangum. At what point do we all just need to grow the fuck up?

But, you know, there's always the looking back. I can still listen to Crooked Rain Crooked Rain and dive back into immaturity, if only for 45 minutes or so. Gold Soundz sums it up better than I ever could, with my favorite Pavement lyric ever:

“So drunk
in the August sun,
and you're the kind of girl I like.
Because you're empty,
and i'm empty,
and you can never quarantine the past.”

For a double-shot of self-loathing, how about a clip of Pavement ON Space Ghost? I remember seeing this episode of Space Ghost when I was like 14 or whatever. Fuck I loved Space Ghost.

I remember after Malkmus “dissed” the Smashing Pumpkins in the song "Range Life," song, Billy Corgan responded with an eerily prophetic message: “People don’t fall in love to Pavement… they put on Smashing Pumpkins or Hole or Nirvana, because these bands actually mean something to them.”

Sure thing Billy.

GDB

The Pony Girl Club presents: A Guide to Talking to Girls on The Internet

2008-10-10T11:52:00.000-07:00

After fighting with the robot sluts at Cox for a day and a half to get my fucking internet fixed, I am finally ready to deliver what you guys have been waiting so long for: the liveblog of the High School Musical 3 sneak preview I'm attending!

Hah, I'm just kidding. I'm talking about the Pony Girl Club guide to talking to girls on the internet. Yeah. I'll admit it. We tried internet dating once. I mean, not together. Just at the same time. I always thought internet dating was for warcraft nerds and diabetics or something but I thought maybe I'd give it a chance since it's 2008 and people use the internet or some shit. When say I thought I'd give it a chance I mean Jenny K. basically dared me to, so I said yeah, okay one guy. Needless to say, it didn't go too well. When I say it didn't go too well I mean I ended up kind of dating the dude for like two months before he had an existential crisis, threatened to move to New Mexico to work in a water treatment facility and never talk to anyone again and eventually just stopped talking to me, later citing extreme depression (I ran into him at the Frog Eyes show and demanded an explanation immediately). Fact: joining the peace corps will not undo the fact that you got fired from your graphic design job, nor will it pay your Yaris payment.

So, now I'm compiling a list of tips culminated from our collective experience to help y'all stop acting like assholes, on and off the internets.

1.The content of your message is your first impression. You should probably try to not fuck it up. Don't say creepy shit or send dick pics. Messages that say "you're a cute chick and I'd like you to ride me like a pony" are TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE. Don't ask questions like "do u liek egyptian dick?" and don't send messages like this:

He there,

How are you doing?
Just got to tell you that I like ur profile and Pix and wanna Know you better.
How Cute Are You :-)
Beautiful Eyes and Lips :-)
Please add me to your favorites so we can chat here.
Would you like to chat on phone to know each other better ??
Wanna Date??
Looking for forward.

Guess what? Gonna block your 40-year-old ass. I almost wish I didn't delete some of the really yucky messages for the sake of my readers' amusement. You should probably also write your message in American SO I CAN UNDERSTAND IT. I shouldn't want to put a [sic] at the end of your entire message. This is a good example of what not to do:

hey whats up how r u doin shawty i seen that wit that drink ill drink with u for sure.

Don't give me a Reader's Digest version of your life and don't tell me how much you love to work out and hike. Isn't it clear by the pretentious list of "leisure lit" that I fucking hate hiking and shit? How could I have read all those damn books that most people consider punishment if I was outside running around catching hay fever? DO use information I have chosen to release to try to make a connection. I normally find beards yucky, but the dude I ended up dating had a beard. Why would I date a dude with a beard? Because in his first message he asked me how funny it would be to re-score Grosse Pointe Blank to Sunset Rubdown instead of John Cusack jerking off Joe Strummer. Yeah, score.

2. Don't talk about your ex-girlfriend. It's just really fucking annoying. We're all old enough that you have to be a social retard to not have been in a relationship at this point, especially if you're like us and dig the dirty thirties (I'm just kidding, we're trying to stick with dudes in their twenties...I think).The dude I dated from the internet talked about his ex-girlfriend on the first date. He was also asking about character makeup and asked me if I could make myself look like his ex-girlfriend. It was a joke. Even if it was a little mean, it was probably because I asked if his 16-year-old brother was a hot virgin. Wait, why am I defending this dude still? Ughhh. Megan went on an afternoon coffee date with a guy that pointed out his premature balding (it was hiding under the emo combover) and attributed it to the fact that his ex-girlfriend once told him she had herpes when she didn't. The best part about this dude is that he chatted me up previously, but started ignoring me once he did the hook line and sinker on Megan and eventually re-opened the dialogue circuit once he figured out Megan wasn't going to call him. No, I don't want to be in a band with you, I heard you got kicked out of Adamscott's little brother's band for SUCKING. Yeah, you did jostle me at the Silver Jews show. Yeah, I shot eye daggers at you and yelled about fighting you because I was a little drunk. Whatever.

3. Be kind of hot or at least really funny. If you look like a serial killer and your main interests are meat, the confederacy and "FUCKING LIKE A HORSE," we probably aren't going to get along. I almost prefer dudes that are not like, stupid hot, because they tend to be less...well, stupid. I'll be honest, you can have a pretty bad case of the cute and be funny or into shit I am into and I'll dig it, I'm kind of into that awkward early Rivers Cuomo thing anyways. You know, the dark hair and glasses with a cardigan combo. I also like obscenities and being offensive. I'm also really popular, kind of loud and feared by most. You have to be able to deal with it. The best way is by having a good sense of humor. Most people can't hang and with that said, my standards are still ludicrously high and I will probably date one guy a year for two months and never get married. It's cool, I have a cat.

4. Try not to act like a total psycho. It's normal for most people to move on to normal e-mail after a while (or at least I think so?) because most people can't check internet dating sites at work and I can use gmail on my phone. What you shouldn't do with this e-mail address, is use it to find and read every article the girl you're interested wrote for her college paper and later tell her you loved "that one about those kids shoes with the wheels on 'em." Acting like a total psycho includes showing up at her work when she didn't tell you where she worked. Acting like a total idiot includes agreeing to get a beer with said dude since he drove up from University Heights to stalk you and getting totally wasted because you got the magic refilling pint glass. Yikes. If you actually do get the chance to bang a girl, you should probably try NOT crying on the final frontier. She's gonna freak out, not to mention think you're a total pussy.

5. Look like your pictures. If you don't, please save yourself a shred of dignity and don't point out why. In my case, the dude had a floppy mop of hair in his pictures yet had no actual hair in real life. Being asked why prompted a story about how he shaved his head two years ago when his girlfriend dumped him and just kept shaving it. Are you on some sort of sadsack hair protest? Don't even get me started on the really serious under bite. I feel like I put up an assortment of photos that accurately displays both how foxy I am as well as how goofy/boring/normal I can look. That includes full-body pics. You can't hide behind the internet dude, we'll figure you out. Especially if it's your height you're fudging. We are apparently slightly above average (the internet says it's 5'3.7"), height-wise and hang out with a bunch of goddamn giants so if you say you're 5'7" but you meant 5'4" fuck yeah I'm gonna notice. It's not like I'll automatically turn my nose up at you for being more vertically challenged than I am, as long as you're cool.

What I'm getting at is I'm going to take my chances in the real world, you know, keep scamming on friends' friends/coworkers but in the mean time YOU can stop being less of a dickbag when trying to pick up chicks on the 'net.

You guys are going to have to excuse me now, I have to go deal with this dude that keeps calling me because he thinks I'm Jenni. I've told him twice that he has the wrong number but "wrong number" is apparently just a shorter way of saying "I'm playing hard to get." Why would this guy think I'm Jenni? Funny you should ask. We were at dirty mondays and this guy asked for her number and instead of saying "I don't have a phone" or "no please" she gave him mine. Fucking stellar.

'stina.

any little article will do

2008-10-08T11:38:00.001-07:00

The other night at work, I found myself in a bit of a spat with my manager Dan, or as I like to call him, my Danager. Apparently he was not amused by my antics which include but are not limited to: sexual advances on my superiors and my equals, exaggerated whining and nagging, meowing, gossiping, frequent references to the movie Office Space, defacing the hospitality bulletin board, creation of a stupid-customer bingo game, stealing from the gumball machine and several well timed remarks of the "that's what she said" or "that's not what you said last night" variety. I thought long and hard (that's what she said) about what to do to correct the situation. I decided that in my cash-out I would include several Canadian pennies that had made their way into my coin purse and which I have been hoarding as our economy collapses. Every little bit helps.

As I gave him my little folder I pointed out to him that I had given him my Canadian pennies. "Why on Earth would you do that?" He sighed in exasperation. "Give me some REAL money."

"Canadian money is worth more than ours now." I replied. "I want you to have it."

He sunk into a nearby booth, stricken with emotion. I continued to stock and clean my tables. After several minutes had passed, I noticed he was still sitting there, frozen in his grief. His eyes were red and a glistening film of moisture clouded his gaze. "Damn them." He whispered, clenching his fists. "Damn them all to Hell."

If our restaurant was located any higher off the ground, I might have had to talk him back from the ledge. This is what I would have said:
Dan, I know things look bad right now. Those darn Canadians, they just come in here with their flappy jaws and their maple syrup and my favorite bands and they steal our jobs and make our women's loins burn with desire. But America is strong Dan, Americans are strong. The people in power have fucked us six ways to Sunday and the next people in power will most likely do the same, but there are still things to live for. Do you like cats? Of course you do. What about beer? Everybody likes beer. The American dollar is weak, but the American band is strong. At least TV on the Radio is strong.

Yes, I HAVE been told that I would make an excellent candidate for Vice President. I'm kind of mavericky like that. TV on the Radio is mavericky too, as evidenced by these promotional videos for Dear Science.

HOW DO THEY KNOW I'M HIGH?

But seriously folks, it's a damn good album. The only surprises are good ones. In the first half, slower songs like "Stork and Owl" and "Family Tree" break up the frenzied energy of the two singles without dragging the overall energy level down. Later on they treat us to a song about the whore of Babylon and they wrap the whole thing up with a pretty red ribbon called "Dogs of Light".
So shut your fucking face, uncle fucker.
xo
megan elizabeth

They're having a FIRE SALE?!

2008-10-07T22:29:00.000-07:00

It's that time again. You know, that time where EVERYTHING IN CALIFORNIA CATCHES ON FUCKING FIRE. I swear to all of your pagan gods I am milking this evacuation shit as long as I can this year, I spent too much time calming other people down last year. When I stumbled out to my car shoeless, yet clad in head to toe black non-breathing fabrics, this morning to go to work I noticed it was HOTTER THAN FUCKING AFRICA, not to mention DRIER THAN JOAN RIVERS' VAGINA. Ugh, I hate Santa Ana weather so much, especially after having a few days of rain. Anyways, my sister and I saw this entire hill on fire pretty close to our house, so I raise my metaphorical glass to the beginning of hell week.

Firestorm 2008 playlist thus far:

The Bowie song is kind of inappropriate, sure, but I just really like that montage of GIANT KITTIES! AWWWWW!

'stina

Gabe Vega, if I put a quarter in your mouth will you play something I want to hear?

2008-10-07T02:44:00.000-07:00

I haven't bitched about Dirty Mondays in a while, so it's about time. Last week Gabe Vega played a song by The Virgins (I think it was "Rich Girls," which is especially fitting because Jenni and I watch Gossip Girl before we go) and this week he played "Heartbeats" by The Knife. And like, other songs, but those are ones I like. I always try to remind myself to throw less of a shit fit because whatever he plays is better than some dickbag picking three hours worth of reggae on the jukebox but what can I say? I'm picky AND I have a sense of entitlement. Sound familiar?

Wednesday, homeboy's DJing over at the Belly Up and looks like I'm gonna go. Shit's free, and is being billed as "The Most Interesting Show in The World." Apparently, there is going to be all kinds of ass-backwards shenanigans like acrobats, fire-jugglers, Russian dancing and French burlesque singing followed by some band that probably sucks because they list their influences as being bands I like yet sound nothing like any of them, followed by Vega tearin' it up. Or maybe not, it is the Belly Up, after all. How the fuck do you DJ for the Matlock crowd? Three hours of Yanni? As far as next Monday, I'd like to hear the Trentemoller remix of Royksopp's "What Else is There:"

and the MSTRKRFT remix of Metric's "Monster Hospital:"

If someone feels like going out on a limb earlier in the night, Wolf Parade's "Disco Sheets:"

I love that video because it's not really for the song but is about gay clubs in London. Even the gays love the Krug! It's good and danceable!

In addition to hearing a song I like, our fun-sized asian lavaaaaah, Mac, gave me a purseful of stuff from the Lou's free giveaways box, which apparently consists of a bunch of faggy bullshit nobody wants. I didn't walk into the place thinking some hot guy that has 40 crates of records at home with his cat would just hand me a Jawbreaker box set but it's the equivalent of me handing out tiny gift-with-purchase tubes of bacne scrub and being like "HAI LOOK I GOTS U A PRESENT!" *coughGIFTCARDRAFFLEcough* He's my new favorite for trying, though. The one freebie I will gloat about is the best keychain that does not open bottles or shoot fire in the entire world. It's so cool I can't even tell you what it is, I just have to hit you in the face with it. He picked out rap-related shit so I could talk some big game about these dudes having "weak beats" but one of the fliers was for this cracka-ass-bitch that is putting a record out tomorrow and one of the guests on the album is Keak Da Sneak. I don't think I've ever talked about how much we like getting hyphy. HOLY SHIT. Here are a few of my fav. hyphy videos:

Sideshow:

Ghost Ride It:

Tell Me When to Go:

Shake them dreads,

'stina

Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Marketing Demographic

2008-10-05T23:28:00.000-07:00

Megan and I had a really romantic night on Friday. We went out to dinner, to the Roxy, if you must know. We always both order "The Artichoker" sandwich (it is chock full of things I think are tasty, like artichokes, black olives, sprouts and avocado) and share garlic-battered artichoke hearts. It rained a little bit, not enough to use windshield wipers (it's never enough for Megan to use wipers, shit would turn into the black lagoon) but enough to deposit delicate sprinkles of dew onto our eyelashes so that other patrons may think our eyes were twinkling with love. Regardless of twinkling or not, we followed dinner up with a movie. Not just any movie, but the worst movie ever made for people like us. We schlepped in a box of Red Vines and a six-pack of Coronitas (they're so cute and so purse-sized!), because mid-twenties rebellion is a dish best served with beer goggles and a red tongue, and proceeded to ruin "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" for about 15 other people. And not just by kicking over an empty beer bottle.

I'm going to try not to ruin the movie for any of you idiots that think you still want to see this shit, so I'm no going to review it, so much as I'm going to make a list of complaints. I can tell you that we're planning a new video, tentatively called "The Pony Girl Club presents: Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Markting Demographic re-enacted in five minutes."

1. The soundtrack. This shit was a total miss. It turned into a game for us. Every time there was a song featured by an "indie" band, I yelled "PANDERING!" Oooooh snap, you used Islands AND Takka Takka! Liek, ZOMG! If these fucking fruitcakes took any time to really consider character devlopment it would have been obvious to them that Michael Cera's character would have totally been into Wolf Parade. How can you make a breakup mix without "Grounds for Divorce?" You can't. The last time I broke up with a dude it was to "Kissing the Beehive." True story. As if you didn't know that it would sting, bitch.

2. The gay band. "Nick" is the straight bassist in a gay band called "The Jerkoffs." The ludicrous insinuation that the "indie" community is okay with gays is just that- ludicrous. I mean okay whatever I don't hate the gays (I guess) but the in-your-faceishness of the constant barrage of "HEY LOOK BEING HOMOSEXUAL IS ACCEPTABLE" became offensive. I feel like it's my duty as resident filthy hipster bitch with recently aquired rights to social commentary (now that I'm a blogger and shit) to point out that for the most part we don't care. Apathy is pretty widespread in this community of selfish fools. It reminds me of an article about hipsterdom I once read in which the author said "we'd look like revolutionaries, if only we were holding rocks instead of digital cameras." Personally, I don't care if that dude from Xiu Xiu is into dudes part-time and ladies part-time as long as you deliver what I want- a good show.

3. The booze. These kids are from Dirty Jersey and are in New York City for a night, how the fuck did they all get so drunk? And didn't their parents ever tell them not to drink and drive? Where the hell are their parents and why don't they care that they're not home at 5 a.m.? Shouldn't they be in school? Oh wait, I remember being in NYC underage and being served alcohol. Whoops! I was there for a journalism conference and went on a spur-of-the-moment dinner date with a fellow digital audio production major from some shitty state in the midwest. He was also deaf in the left ear. Man, I can't remember anything about this guy. He was nice and pretty cute, I probably could've finnagled a handski out of him if I actually tried. Probably should've tried.

4. Devendra Banhart. Norah is lightly arguing with former childhood friend Triss (who is also the ex-girlfriend of Nick) in a liquor store about how she has " probably had like, hundreds of orgasms" in her life when Banhart's rebellious beard appears to tell her that she'd "know" if she did. Someone get Devendra Banhart's dirty gay vegan rebellious beard on the Megan's Law website. No, I'm not talking about Megan's fetish porn site, I'm talking about that shit you put your neighbor's picture on when they diddle your spawn.

5. The stupid pretty girl that thinks she'd fug because her childhood best friend looks like Miley Cyrus. Goddammit, I am so sick of this shit. Seriously. Everyone knows there is a sliding scale of self-hatred that corresponds with your level of intelligence and the smarter you are, the worse you feel about yourself. Unless you're me, but I didn't say anything about people of superior intelligence with out of control ego problems. There's a moment when ~~they're being intimate~~ Nick takes off his hoodie and vans and is totally going to finger Norah and she says something dumb like "you still like me even though I'm not pretty like Triss?" Talk about bonerkiller. If a dude gets down to his business socks, it's business time. It's not that hard to figure out. You shut your whore mouth and get jiggy because he's not gonna wanna dip his pinkie in if you are too busy pointing out flaws he didn't even notice you had. Save that shit for drinking too much with your lady friends. It's bad enough that in the beginning of the movie one of Nick's gays drags Norah into the van and makes her change her bra because her personality is a lot easier to see in a red lacy push-up bra, but the fact that she weaves in and out of low self-esteem city even when HE ALREADY TOOK HIS HOODIE AND VANS OFF is just silly. And annoying.

Ugh, I am so tired I can't even think anymore. Good thing I have the entire day off so I can do stuff like watch DVRed TV before going to ballet as a warmup for dirty mondays.

The pedastools are about the same height as the gallows,

'stina.

one trick pony: someone to keep us warm

2008-10-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

You aren't imagining things. I have been rather neglectful of my blogging duties as of late. I wish that I had a litany of excuses, each more fantastic than the last, with which to excuse my gross misconduct. However, I have only the simple and the mundane. I have just begun a new term at the university and I find myself suddenly weighted down with countless volumes and every other day embarking on a railway journey. I spend my school days dodging evangelical Christians and attempting to circumvent as much fratty bullshit as possible. Seriously, dudes dragged their fucking couches into the middle of walkways so they could sit around yelling. Makes me want to start my own club. I'll call it the obstructing walkways club. Gonna yell about whatever I feel like.

On my train home last night, I managed to get a window seat. I like to get a seat by the window and then just sit there and read. It's a habit related to my love for sitting in the left handed seats of lecture halls although I am right handed. It makes me feel I'm getting a little something extra for my money.

So I sat reading, with my pod on of course. Don't need no stinking outside world. Shuffle was hitting all the right spots, as it sometimes does, but it really knocked it out of the park with this one:

It was the right song at the right moment. The song is called "Someone to Keep Us Warm" by a group from Detroit called the Silent Years. They did a pretty rad Daytrotter Session a couple weeks ago in addition to one they did last April. If they were coming to California any time soon I would bring two friends and they'd bring two friends and so on and so on but alas, we'll just have to wait a little bit longer.

I really like the lyrics in this song, especially the first line. It reminds me of the part in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle when the woman asks him to just hold her to charge her batteries. It can feel that way sometimes, not that I would know anything about that. I am colder than a Russian winter. That's cold enough to defeat Napoleon AND Hitler, in case you were keeping score. But this song sort of reminds me of what it used to feel like to have emotions. It has a sweetness to it, a warmth that at a closer proximity might affect my polar ice caps.

Who am I kidding? I tear up during previews for movies that look like they'll make me cry. The moral of the story is: download the daytrotter sessions, buy their new album and find someone to keep you warm, even if it is just your kitty.

Stay classy San Diego.
megan elizabeth

Your mom's just like, "get the hell out of my house!"

2008-10-03T01:23:00.000-07:00

In case you guys have been waiting with baited breath to find out what we've been up to instead of blogging compulsively, there's your answer. Yeah, we're recording an album. And going to school. And working. We're sorry. We've got a lot of shit up our sleeves though. It's getting stinky.

xoxo,

Pony Girls

I'll meet you where the river forks...shit, I'd meet you in a pit of fucking snakes

2008-10-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

There are very few Sunset Rubdown songs (when I say "Sunset Rubdown" I also mean the piss-poor quality solo recordings) I don't have. When I say that, I mean there are like two. That I know of. It's kind of creepy that I have the last few years of Spencer Krug's activity chronicled in my pocket anyways, but it's cool you guys. No big deal.

Rationalization aside, I was trying to figure out those god-forsaken myspace playlist things and found some old-ass songs the Krug probably recorded in the basement of his apartment building (do they even have apartments in Canada, or just huts?) that I imagine is smack-dab in the middle of a town square that looks like that village in Beauty and the Beast. One is called "It Wouldn't Let Them Down" and the other is called "Give Up On Your Ghost." The former is more standard noisy Krug shit involving a guitar and an accordion, while the latter sounds more like David Bowie in Labyrinth and Danny Elfman picked up a player piano and simultaneously Being John Malkovich-ed our Tiger Beat centerfold.

Awwww, look at that guy! It's like one of those pictures of a smiling kitten:

God, I love kitties. In case you didn't catch that link above, THIS was the only place I could find those songs. Seriously, I tried. I might have to e-mail the dudes over at Snakes Got A Blog, 'cause I know they got 'em. One of the places I tried was the Sunset Rubdown threads over at the Wolf Parade forums, to no avail, obvs. but I did find videos people were posting from the shows on the EAST COAST TOUR they recently got to go to. There were a few videos of new songs but apparently Jordan (not the Deep Sleepover dude, he's too busy making good music) asked the youtubers to take them down. Bummer. What are we supposed to do? Y'all don't tour here (or anywhere near the West Coast), so we're supposed to pretend it's not 2008, act like we don't have technology to pry into shit and just sit on our hands 'till the new record comes out? Yes, that would be polite but GODDAMMIT.

I need to go file my talons into points now, so here's a video from two couple days ago, filmed AT A SHOW WE COULDN'T GO TO BECAUSE IT WAS ACROSS THE DAMN COUNTRY AND OUR ECONOMY IS SHITTY AND WE'RE STUDENTS THAT DON'T MAKE ANY MONEY. It's one of our favorite songs, "Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings:"

'stina

Dr. Bubastis' Finite Playlist

2008-09-30T18:21:00.000-07:00

First off--my well of Ponygirl Club contributions has been running a tad dry of late, leaving my fellow Bloggers gasping for air like rainbow trout marooned on a parched riverbed after a long summer's drought. For that I apologize. Depending on who you ask, I have spent the last several weeks either:

a) Held up in a villa somewhere in the Balkans riding horses and playing the accordion.
b) Learning to fire breathe.
c) following the Silver Jews on tour and stalking Cassie Berman.

While all or none of these may be true, none of this qualifies as a reason to neglect my blogging duties. I guess part of the problem is I haven't had anything to bitch about lately, and what is the point of blogging if you're not going to bitch?

So, in the spirit of trying to get through this blog with as little shit talking as possible, i'm going to fire up the ole' shuffle on my Ipod, and talk about the first ten songs/bands that come up. I promise I won't cheat to look cool.

1. Neko Case- "Hold On, Hold On"
I like Neko Case. She has a good voice and she's pretty foxy, but man, if it's possible to scream "I'm a total bitch" with no more than a few pictures, Ms. Case has it perfected. She's also in the "indie rock supergroup" The New Pornographers along with Dan Bejar of Destroyer fame. Personally, I like Case and I like Bejar but the New Pornos pretty much suck. It's just run of the mill power pop crap mixed with a few gems from one of these two. Anyway, I have no doubt in my mind that if Neko Case wanted to become a big Country superstar she totally could. People wouldn't even have to write songs for her! But then again, "country," or at least it's popular incarnation, has really become a pretty hideous swamp thing of a genre in the last decade or so.

2. Bear vs. Shark- "Baraga Embankment"
Fuck yeah. I've always loved BVS. People ask me to describe them, and the best I can come up with is "If At The Drive-In were a bunch of white dudes instead of a bunch of Mexican dudes and there was no Acid involved." Seems fair to me. Anyway, these dudes rocked and it's a pretty big bummer that they broke up. Check out this video for "Catamaran" off of their last album "Terrorhawk." It's the opening track, and a pretty kick ass one at that.

3. The Microphones- "I Felt My Size"
If this were like four years ago you would've been witness to me raving about how much I love this album, "The Glow, Pt. 2." But, well, it's just not something i'm really ever going to throw on anymore. Phil Elvrum has always had a pretty good thing going for him...he's super earthy and organic and shit and it comes through in his music, which is super bare-bones and folksey and woodsy. I dunno, maybe i'd like it more if I lived in like, Washington. It's the kind of album which, despite it's quality and how much I loved it at one point or another, I just don't really have much use for anymore. Kind of like Spiderland.

4. A Silver Mt. Zion- "Track 01"
Another band I used to like a lot more than I do now. Make no mistake...I was a huuuuge Godspeed You! Black Emperor fan back in the day. They played at the Casbah once but I wasn't old enough to go, then they broke up and I never got to see them live. So, therefore, I had to kind of hold out for a time when they would either get back together, or I was going to have to live with just seeing Silver Mt. Zion live. I did. It was boring. There were a ton of childhood emotions and expectations riding on that show...I wanted them to be a band they weren't. But, you know, that show made me realize that, as necessary as the breakup of GYBE seemed to be at the time, ASMZ just can't compete. At all. Efrim can't sing. He isn't a band leader. He was never supposed to be any of those things. These weren't people who spoke out about politics or or talked shit about other bands. They were supposed to be different. But, whatever. The death of Godspeed, to me, meant that post-rock was done and dead and people needed to move on. Too bad no one else did.

5. Modest Mouse- "Jesus Christ Was An Only Child."
Modest Mouse is one of those unfortunate bands that got popular at the wrong time. They got popular after they were done writing terrific music and, well, that just meant that their back-catalog would never be appreciated by certain people. It's like the Weezer effect...once you become popular and start writing crappy music, a whole new, young generation of "indie" kids will know who you are, but in a way that just means they aren't old enough to remember that you were good once and won't care. "Oh, yeah, Modest Mouse fucking sucks." Yeah? Listen to The Lonesome Crowded West and fucking tell me that. Damn these guys used to be good. Not that their new albums are terrible....they're not...but really, they're never going to even come close to their three big early albums. Oh, and Issac Brock's lisp is fucking annoying. I should do a piece about musicians with lisps. Who else has one besides him and that fruit from Belle & Sebastian?

6. Hot Snakes- "Let It Come"
Ah, the Reis/Froberg tandem, aka the best thing to ever happen to San Diego music. I seriously love these dudes. Sure i'm not as big on the whole greaser-punk vibe of Rocket From The Crypt, but I think it has to do more with me really like Rick Froberg's voice. Drive Like Jehu is one of my all time favorite bands, and while Hot Snakes decided to shed a lot of the more experimental and mathy aspects of Jehu's last album, they still know how to fucking rock. Drive Like Jehu is a perfect example of bands that existed at the same time as Nirvana, did a similar thing, and kicked infinitely more ass yet get little to no credit for it. God, I fucking hate Nirvana. Sweet, it's the Meat Puppets without anything that made the Meat Puppets interesting! Where do I sign up?

I don't know what the fuck is going on in this video but I kind of like it:

7. The Aquabats- Dear Spike
People who do not like the Aquabats are the enemy of fun. Now is a fitting time to listen to them, too, as Travis Barker is like, dead or something. Yes, it is a little known fact that Travis Barker used to be in the Aquabats, where he went by the name The Baron Von Tito. They probably kicked him out for not being Mormon?

It's definitely kind of sad that they're still a band. But, you know what? Who cares. Let them keep on rocking until Jesus comes back to earth or whatever!

8. You know what? There is no #8. I'm tired of this.

GDB

Well, that ought to be easy for a genuine son of a bitch

2008-09-28T23:47:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest with you guys right now- I don't know where the Doctor is. Part of me thinks he is in his lair, fiendishly twisting his moustache, plotting some evil shit. Part of me thinks David Berman from the Silver Jews showed up in his parlor to beat his ass because our fine Doctor probably lurched at Cassie Berman. The rest of me thinks he has probably just been partaking heavily in spirits, rendering him unable to write as the pine-scented devil (gin) toils in his brain. Alls I knows is that I am suffering from a few ailments currently- hysteria, asthma and Dr. Bubastis withdrawls. They might all be the same, I don't really know.

In recent-ish news, Paul Newman fought the cancer and the cancer won. Some of you might be familiar with him because of his tasty snacks and salad dressings, some of you might be familiar with the amount of money he donated from the post-tax profits of his tasty snacks and salad dressings sales (over $220 million) and his encouragement for corporate philanthropy but some of you might be familiar with him because of his acting:

Megan would want me to say that some of you might be familiar with Paul Newman because of his pretty serious case of the hot, but I feel yucky thinking about Paul Newman being hot because he and my dad kind of looked alike back in their heyday. You're calling bullshit, already? Well, check out this fine picture of an issue of Playgirl my dad was in back in '77 when he was like 30:

Yeah, I found that shit on Ebay. Look at that fucking jumpsuit, dude. Or is that a romper? Either way, dudes don't got steeze like that no more. Now before you bobcat (male cougars) hunters get all worked up, he now looks like a cross between a fat Mikhail Baryshnikov and Bob Kelso from Scrubs, acts like a cross between Matlock and Robocob and enjoys Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, yachts, anti-wrinkle serums, Jesus and posting on San Diego Chargers related-forums. Oh, and textually harassing his tech-support girl.

God, I don't feel like writing any more about my weird dad even though I know you guys are chomping at the bit and some of you have been for years. No, I won't give you the issues of Playgirl I found in the garage. No, I didn't look at the dick pics, I shrieked like a banshee and threw the box across the garage and have yet to venture to that side again. No, I won't scan them in for you guys. UGH.

Anyways, The Jealous Girlfriends have a new video out for "Organs On the Kitchen Floor" and DAYUUM am I into it:

Organ On The Kitchen Floor - The Jealous Girlfriends

Time to go inhale my steroids so I can pump some iron,

'stina

Fact: Rivers Cuomo is friendly to bears

2008-09-27T11:10:00.001-07:00

Last night I hosted a presidential debate party for members of the ponygirl club as well as members of the ponygirl society for musical appreciation. I mixed up a pitcher of the 2008 election's signature cocktail, the Sarah Palin rape kit. It's sort of like a Long Island but with some of that probiotic yogurt that makes you poo; it's expensive and it cleans you out. I also baked up some fucking delicious pumpkin bread and we settled in to our easy chairs to watch John McCain get Baracked. I wouldn't mind getting Baracked myself, but that's another blog for another time.

Somehow the evening turned, as all evenings must, into a backyard jam session which in turn turned into an epic campfire sing-along. Sometimes it can be hard to think of songs that everybody knows. We'd gone through the Beatles, the Doors, the Rolling Stones and (ugh)Nirvana when somebody said, "Hey, do you know any Weezer?"

The same somebody also said, "Weezer is basically metal, am I wrong?"

I don't know man. Usually I like to pretend that nothing after Pinkerton really happened. Watching videos this morning I decided to concede that the Green album is also real, if only because of the incredible pandering to girls that takes place in the "Island in the Sun" video. Cuddling with a bear, Rivers? Are you fucking kidding me? Kitties and puppies? Holding hands with a god damn monkey? Shit makes me squeal like a twelve year old, and that's what you want isn't it?

Not the squealing. I meant the twelve year old girls. That's what you want. Here's the thing: I know you man. One time when I was sixteen you drunkenly lurched at me but an Asian girl (probably also underage, let's be real) got in the way. You probably I don't remember. I barely do. My best friend and I had missed the last train home during your concert so we decided to prowl around Irvine all night because there wasn't much else we could do. We met up with some crazy fangirl who had a plush Miss Piggy doll she wanted to give you because of that video where you're friends with a bunch of damn muppets. It's always reassuring to meet a crazier fangirl than yourself. It makes you feel you're still cooler than someone, so we tagged along with her on her quest to penetrate the privacy of your backstage lair.

We watched you from a distance, imbibing party cup beverages in your pagoda with your cohorts. We entered one by one, spacing ourselves out so as to be less conspicuous. Miss Piggy was apprehended by security almost immediately. Girl was crazy. Yet we pressed on. Our eyes met across a crowded room, Rivers. You did the unthinkable. You waved at me. I waved back. You started lurching toward me. I didn't remember this last night, but this morning I have a phantom memory of maybe shaking your hand. Maybe one of my friends did. I don't know what happened to the brain cells where I used to keep this memory, probably paint fumes or vodka. I do remember being kind of shocked that you were really only about the same size as me.

Then you saw Her and the moment was over. We reconnected with Miss Piggy, her friend drove us to Carl's Jr and we passed the night sleepless on benches at the train station. It was fucking awesome.

So you see, I know you man. I know that despite your continued insistence that you give not a hoot, you care all too much. While I must admit that your video for "Pork and Beans" was rather on the lolarious side (although I fear that the song is merely a watered down rehashing of several older songs), I am worried about you. I am afraid that your facial hair is taking over your life. Some guys can have a stache or a beard or whatever without letting it control them. They can grow it out, shave it off, shape it up without losing themselves. Other guys think they're Sampson all of a sudden just because they have a stupid soul patch or whatever and shit starts taking over. They get that dead in the eyes look. You sir, have that look.

Gotta go listen to Pinkerton all day.
I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon,
megan elizabeth

The Proclaimers are not, in fact, the only band from Scotland

2008-09-25T16:13:00.000-07:00

The Pony Girl stables have been like a damn ghost town lately, despite my promises of grandeur. I have been experiencing my first of probably many serious bouts of composer's block. Usually it gets really close to the deadline and the project gets itself done in a matter of hours, but this time I am legitimately worried. There's just nothing. I feel like that guy in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." Maybe it's because I hate the director and I think his short film is gay. Oops, said that out loud on the internet.

Personal crisis aside, I was digging around in one of my plastic organizational cubes in hot pursuit of my dignity or something when I found this CD that I was all into in 2000, "100 Broken Windows" by the band named after that secret meeting place in Anne of Green Gables- Idlewild. At least they're honest about their reading abilities, unlike other bands.

There are two songs off that album, "Idea Track" and "Let Me Sleep (Next to the Mirror)," that are still pretty decent. I realized after listening to the CD again that I had this problem circa 2000 where I thought it was cool that EVERY band I listened to sounded exactly the same. Basically, I listened to three bands for a couple years. Another thing I realized is that I apparently didn't care if any of the dudes in the band were hot, I just cared about the music. What was wrong with me? I feel like I need to go back in time and reverse that so maybe today I would be a little more slutty or popular or both since they're synonymous.

This is a video from around the same time for "Actually It's Darkness:"

I'm kind of into the chorus. I like the slightly unconventional drum fill.

I think the only thing about this band that really bums me out is they used to sound like everything today I talk shit on. I mean, they had a song called "Satan Polaroid." That's gotta count for something, right? Lately, they're gotten a lot more R.E.M. and a lot less rock. But they're Scottish, what did you honestly expect? Yeah. Me neither.

Going to Hawaii to meet a receptionist that will inspire me to write my vampire puppet musical,

'stina.

Lovlier now, but dressed for a funeral

2008-09-24T13:02:00.000-07:00

Last night I was doing the hipster shuffle (not the actual dance, I was just shuffling around trying to see around some bitch in front of me trying to take a picture. Guess what? IT'S A BLACKBERRY NOT A CAMERA SHITS GONNA SUCK!) at the Silver Jews show when I noticed a dude rocking out next to Jenni wearing boat shoes and man-capris. BOAT SHOES! SRSLY?! AAAAUUUGHHH.

The show was fanfuckingtastic, those of you that were not in attendance should be seriously bummed but the boat shoes reminded me that Vampire Weekend has a new song out for that new movie Michael Cera is in. You know, that one where he's lookin' all kinds of underage and hot:

Yeah, on the right. George Michael Bluth. Fetch my smelling salts!

Back to Vampire Weekend, the original boat shoe band. Megan calls them "the cable-knit sweater band." Both are accurate:

I'm pretty sure these dudes just spend what I make in a year on polo shirts and write songs about Gossip Girl. The new song, "Ottoman," sounds like every other Vampire Weekend song mushed together. They also revisit that line about Peter Gabriel and I thought I adequately expressed in previous posts that PETER GABRIEL IS NEVER UNNATURAL. Above that, who do these bitches think they are? Spencer Krug? Your songs may not "share some themes and lyrics," Vampire Weekend. I mean, they're pretty good and all, I just wish I would have thought of the band name first because my version of Vampire Weekend would be way more brutal. Or it would be a movie about going on a mini-vacation for a romantic weekend and you just turn into a vampire and fuck shit up.

Son, grab your things, I've come to take you home,

'stina

one trick pony: lovefool

2008-09-23T14:34:00.000-07:00

Last night after a rigorous ballet rehearsal, I donned my party dress and braved the dirty saloon in search of birthday drinks. After a couple of strong glasses of cranberry juice, a lady friend addressed this query to me in confidential tones. "Has anyone ever sent you a dick pic?"

"No."

"Oh." She looked down at the ring of condensation her glass had left on the bar.

"Did someone send one to you?"

She kept her eyes cast down. "Yeah."

"Who?"

"You know that guy who was sending me the creepy texts?"

"Oh shit, he didn't!"

She nodded.

I cackled with glee. "Oh my god, can I see?"

She flipped open her phone to show me the image of his erect, pink dingaling, his hand wrapped round the base to demonstrate its relative size. She began to speak of her feelings: violated, disgusted, ashamed. "Hold the phone, " I said, "Lovefool's on."

Whenever I hear this song I am in sixth grade again, jumping on my bed and singing along.
The video above is the original video that played in Europe and shit, not the Romeo and Juliet video I remember. I know what I'll be humming all day and for the next two weeks.

Love me, love me,
megan elizabeth

ps The new TV on the Radio Dear Science came out today! I have listened to it exactly 1/2 times, but it sounds good so far. Ponygirls will keep you posted.

I never wanted to have to do this

2008-09-23T01:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight there was a fucking crazy fight at the Saloon. Jenni and I were outside, Megan was gone but Abby was inside. A dude got knocked out and shit got serious. I can't really say much more, because I don't know anything for a fact. What I can say is this: our hearts go out to everyone experiencing tribulation in a time that should be full of triumph, and nothing, NOTHING is ever worth resorting to violence over.

Christina

Vegan studded belts are a lot higher quality these days than when I was a dumb punk kid

2008-09-22T00:43:00.000-07:00

Fall Event is finally over and I can stop doing a fucking "smoky eye" on everyone and their mother, thank you baby jesus. Maybe I can get back to normal stuff, like composing and blogging. Who am I kidding?

We have some crazy stuff going on in the next couple of days, like Megan's birthday shenanigans.

For today (Sunday), I made a few LOLKrugs but I can't decide which one to send. You, readers, must decide.

"They Took a Vote and Said No:"

"Shut Up I am Dreaming of Daniel Day Lewis:"

"Wits or a Moustache:"

"Jason Believe Me, You Can't Trust Your ~~DRUNK~~ Dreams:"

That last picture Megan found on the Listening Party myspace after their summer tour with Wolf Parade. Was Spencer really sick at our show, or was he HUNGOVER? Doesn't matter. Never will.

For tomorrow in birthday week, we will be attending Dirty Monday. Y'all may have noticed we haven't been posting regular recaps, probably because we're all pissed. Not only has it turned into a clusterfuck of people we don't want to see (former lavahhhs, cokey mccokerson, catty bitches, etc) but what the fuck is going on with the music? I am about to re-edit these ponies right out of the Saloon. I know the ultimate goal is to get people to get down because that's what makes an event crackin'. I also know that people get excited by songs they can identify. I'm sick as shit of M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes" right now too because it's on EVERY FUCKING RADIO STATION EVER thanks to Pineapple Gayxpress but it's cool to give a little snippet of the song before catapulting into some ludicrous remix that makes it nearly unidentifiable. Or like, you know, playing the regular song is fine. Not everything needs to make me feel like I should set my internal phasers to "fucking freakout." I'm fine with setting my phasers to "hipster shuffle." You know what else is really cool? The MSTRKRFT remix of Metric's "Monster Hospital." I know it's old, but guess what? IT SOUNDS LIKE AWESOME. Fischerspooner? Always trusty. Trentemollers' remix of Royksopp's "What Else is There?" Genius. MGMT's "Kids?" Fact: People will dance to pretty much anything. Even a 3/4. Fact: "Don't Stop Believin'" is only appropriate in dive bars (eg: Penny Lane) past one something A.M. We're gonna try to suck it up and keep going but it's getting pretty hard to want to. Megan is bitching about starting school again, but I already have and let me tell you, Tuesday morning naps on this bitch suck:

That is one expensive-ass pillow I need to stop drooling on.

Next in birthday week is the Silver Jews show on Tuesday at the Casbah. Megan is working (and doesn't even care about Pavement or related projects), but honorary Pony Girl Jenni and I are going. I also heard the Good Doctor is going. I can only hope the Doctor will not do anything...foolish? I bait you not, Dr. Bubastis.

Rewinding to a highlight of our previous busy week, we stop at Wednesday for the Oddfellows show. Cane's has great sound and the air of Canadian love still wafting about (we could almost visualize Spencer Krug stamping his delicate feet, encased in little Canadian fake Vans upon the stage) but is mostly filled with the scourge of San Diego. The band before the Oddfellows, The Four Kings sucked more dick than Rose McGowan did on the set of "Planet Terror." Not only were they a special breed of earbleed (not even the cool kind) that were out of this atbrosphere (who in their right mind covers the Deftones?), they busted Matt Fitzgerald's tuner after calling his band the wrong name. FUCKING RUDE. I actually linked to their real myspace this time, not the poo button. Go add them on myspace and tell them they're a bunch of fruitcakes. Anyways, the Oddfellows opened their set with this awesome new song called "technical difficulties." That's what happens when you are nice enough to let a guy wearing a muscle shirt AND a headband set your tuner to "suck." I'm just kidding, it's not new. The benefit to starting a set with a bunch of damn problems that you can't figure out is that you turn into a fiery ball of passion waiting to blow your proverbial load of aural assault on your audience. There have also been a few lineup changes since we last visited with the dudes, Ryan Quick and his bunny-soft looking mini-hawk on guitar and a little game of bassist roulette brought us Edgar Chamorro. Unfortunately, due to lack of planning, we forgot to organize the running of the Pony Girl Club gauntlet. Next time. Next time, we'll get you.

The last time I listened to "Accidents Happen" it was before it was mastered and I remember grumbling something about it being mixed too far to one side before Fitz gently reminded me that I'm half-deaf but not much else. They played the sprinkling of the older hits mixed with what I'm going to call "newer songs" and those new songs were really fucking good. I can't say much else about the new songs without hearing them again in the form of a recording, so look out for an album review when there is an album in my hands.

For the most part, these dudes have what it takes to gain a lot of headway in a short amount of time. One thing that is a serious problem is the number of shows they play. The last time I saw them was in February. There was another show sprinkled in there in Santa Monica, but you've got to be kidding me. There are plenty of venues in Southern California that will take you, but you have to take the show. Another issue is the overall appearance of the band being a little off-kilter. Don't look like you just rolled out of bed moments before you went on stage. You're IN a rock band, not PLAYING rock band. And for the love of Satan, face the audience. We don't want to stare at your Costco jeans pockets all night, dude. I heard there might be a video slapped together from that show. Hopefully it doesn't suck ass. I heard someone got a couple really cool shots.

I think it's finally time to wax off for the evening.

Looking forward to falling short of achievement this week,

'stina

the optimists were right/wrong

2008-09-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

If you have a problem with feet, you should probably fast forward the first twenty seconds of Takka Takka's video for "Silence".

I'm not an antifootite (unlike some people around ponygirl hq) but just looking at that shit makes me ticklish, and fuck all if I don't hate tickling.

"Silence" is off of Takka Takka's sophomore release Migration. If I had to condense my review into a single pithy quip I would say, this is a long drive for someone with a lot of spiritual shit to think about. If I had a paragraph or so, I might call it the lonesome, crowded East and babble about the Eastern influences mixed up with dashes of Brian Eno seventies shit and what I'm obviously getting at, Modest Mouse. Takka Takka doesn't reach the same kind of climaxes as old MM used to but they definitely know how to get a steady groove going. For example, a song like "Homebreaker" that starts slow and thoughtful with a far-East twang to it but suddenly breaks into a solid hipster shuffle.

I have unlimited space but I like to cut to the chase, kids. Migration is a meditative rock record and I don't say "meditative" as a euphemism for relaxing, nap-time shit. There is a tension, a spiritual anxiety underlying the songs that I find rather compelling. I bought their first album because I loved a live recording I heard of "They Built You Up Too Fast". There are some good songs on that record but I felt kind of let down by some of the songs. Migration is a giant step forward, and to be perfectly honest, I think it's because they have more interesting things to talk about now. My favorite track is "Lion in the Waves" because singing rounds is an easy yet oft overlooked way to get on my good side. Take note! Okay, so I have other reasons too, but it's time for me to go. I gotta get me a fancy cocktail, a big god damn girly drank with umbrellas in it and shit. Tomorrow is my birthday!

I leave you with what the band has to say for themselves and a video of them from back in the day.

"Sometimes this record is about existing in a place you don’t belong. Conversely, it is about where you came from and how you got there.

Sometimes this record is about my mother. She recently decided to become a Pamanku, a Balinese holy person. This has brought us do a fair amount of talking lately, more than I have ever had chance to do before. Some of those conversations made their way into these songs—myth, prayer, offerings, gamelan music (oh such sweet music), poverty, volcanic eruptions, Communist purges, cultural misunderstanding, racism, family and abandonment.

Sometimes this record is about a band experimenting with sound and form, trying to honestly say things in song it has never said before.

Sometimes this record is about not going back and staying in the place you don’t belong."

It's hard to say from this video but I think someone might have a little case of the nerdy hot.
-megan elizabeth

Fact: Public Displays of Affection are a disgusting social Cardinal sin

2008-09-18T15:05:00.000-07:00

I can't count how many times I've written the phrase "I don't like other people" but I can't even begin to tell you how much I don't like when two people are fucking and they need to let the world via hushed nothings whispered and not-so-covert under the table hand-holding. It's really fucking uncomfortable for other people, especially if you're the only other one there. It's unnecessary and socially unacceptable. Don't even try and tell me I'm probably guilty, because it's not true. I'm like Angela from The Office.

One time I totally sucked face with a dude at a bar on the first non-date (is it a date if he shows up outside your work even though you didn't tell him where you work?) because I somehow acquired the magically refilling pint glass and it was full of swampy Double Bastard goodness. So yeah, one time I got really wasted and made out with a dude in a dark corner booth at Churchill's on a Monday around midnight with no one else in the establishment. Fucking sue me.

While I'm on a roll, yeah, I kind of do expect everyone to be like me. Or at least if you're hanging out with me respect me and other people (nearly everyone I know) uncomfortable with PDA enough to stop being fucking disgusting for an hour out of your menial lives.

There are lots of public couples that do not have yucky behavior. Mates of State. That chick and her permanent fuckstick from the Arcade Fire:

Even Dan Boeckner and his wife (they put their rings together and become the Handsome Furs) are acceptable. Why? Because they're doin' other stuff while they're being a little gross. When I say gross I mean totally adorbs:

Although, especially after watching that video of Angela, I must admit that royal blue is kind of whoreish.

This "may or may not be" couple is currently my favorite:

Corrina Repp of...herself and Joe Haege of 31Knots, forming Tu Fawning. In a 31Knots interview I read a while back, Haege mentioned having "a side project back home" with his "girlfriend." Well, well, well.

I'm seriously not trying to turn this shit into a gossip blog, I just really wanted to talk about Tu Fawning. Corrina Repp has a smoky sultry voice that enables her to hold her own with a quiet guitar or soft, droning piano but it's so pleasing to hear her in a more upbeat, fun situation. I feel like every girl that wants to "sing" in a band should have to go to the Corrina Repp school of not sucking, in addition to sitting in the Clockwork Orange video viewing chair watching this video of Repp singing AND playing drums without cracking in the least:

The god-awful shit that passes for singing these days would be gone quicker than a can of Spam in a factory full of Asians. Yeah, I'm talking about The Ting-Tings and Crystal Castles. The good news is: neither of those bands are from America, so I still feel safe. I don't feel like I'm going to come down with a really bad case of the talentless hack any time soon. Just keep those fuckers and their smallpox blankets out of my country.

Tangents aside, Haege uses his strange stamples familiar to 31Knots listeners and the indie superduo recently added horns, piano and violin (as well as Liza Rietz and Toussaint Perrault to play them) to the regular mix. "Out Like Bats" made it apparent that Haege has a signature guitaring (my new wordbination, suck it!) style that he can maintain without the frenetic energy and distortion that is his default in 31Knots. One review of "Secession" (available now through surprise surprise, Polyvinyl) noted the sound was "a little Sunset Rubdown-ey" and that is a comparison I would have never thought to make, yet is one I agree with. Things can be Sunset Rubdown-ey in nature, sure.

I have to go now. I just...have to go.

'stina

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Blurst of Times?!?!

2008-09-17T20:02:00.000-07:00

A band like The Airborne Toxic Event just kind of rubs me the wrong way. I had become vaguely familiar with them in the past several months—that is to say more “aware of” than “familiar with”—and they're just one of those bands that you get an immediate, admittedly unfounded dislike for. I'm sure it's happened to all of you: you hear some hype about a band, see ads for their super-hip new album plastered around websites, hear a little more hype...and next thing you know, without any particular reason, you now officially have some kind of bias against them. I found myself wondering if this band would become the next big, over-hyped, mediocre indie darling. You know, the music equivalent to Little Miss Sunshine or Juno. And since the real key to becoming the cute little indie sleeper of the year is apparently paralyzing mediocrity, i'm sure they'll fit right in.

My initial reaction to having finally listened to their music/watched a few youtube videos, was that they were some sort of fat-cat concoction to bank off the growing success and popularity of “indie” bands. You know, because these days all the 17 year old kids who would've been jocks or at most skaters when I was in high school now wear skinny jeans, white belts and listen to Circa Survive.

Seriously, this band just screams of “genetically engineered to appeal to as many demographics as possible.” I mean, let's face it, they've got a pretty solid recipe for success:

-Band name ripped from a popular “lit kid” novel. Sure, I like White Noise as much as the next guy, but to rep Delillo in front of a lit major—or even worse a big post-modern douche bag—is like trying to impress a bunch of Jazz assholes by namedropping John Coltrane. No go hoss.

-Fender Jaguars. And lots of them! (board room meeting: “They all need top of the line Fender Stratocasters!” “Those aren't 'hip' anymore.” “Well then, what is?”) Jazzmasters might be harder to recognize and Mustangs are a little folksy. The Jaguar is a solid choice.

-THE BASSIST PLAYS WITH A BOW. Why? To meet their daily fag quotient? Who knows. But it's a sure fire way to get the lowest-common-denominator post-rock crowd. OMG I LOVE SIGUR ROS.

-Cute girl. If you're going to Frankenstein a successful indie band, you need at least one cute chick with bangs that could slice bread. Let me guess, she plays the violin? Naturally! What else can girls play, the harp?

-They're sure to take lots of pictures of themselves playing with a lot of fog under neon lights. You know, because it's moody and brooding. And shit. It kind of calls to mind My Bloody Valentine. Is there still a big shoe-gaze fan base? Tap that shit, too!

-lyrics lyrics lyrics!! The more cliche and banal, the better! "she walks up and asks how you are/so you can smell her perfume/you can see her lying naked in your arms." Sounds like something straight out of Delillo!

So, the above ranting was all really just me spit-balling about the elements some record exec wanted to see in the next big indie band. I'm probably way off base, right? Turns out, this wasn't some record label's master plan, it was just plain old, human egotism and pandering.

So, this guy, the lead singer. He was writing a novel. I'm sure it was terrific. I'm sure it's main influence was Catcher In The Rye. Wait, no, this is a hardcore lit kid! It was probably Gravity's Rainbow or Infinite Jest! Anyway, that's not the point. He was writing the Great American Novel, but then, his girlfriend broke his heart, his mom was diagnosed with cancer, and he got that disease that Why? named an album after and that dude from The Darjeeling Limited had. So he decided to put his shoe-in for the PEN/Faulkner award off for a while to get everything off his chest in song form. Sound familiar? Vaguely.

Anyway, if this dude's lyrics suck this much, I can't even imagine what his novel was like. He's like that kid in your creative writing class who says he's working on a novel even though he's never written a short story in his life and is pretty much retarded.

"Sorry, I really lost my head
I'm sorry, I really lost my head.
But you know those words that you said
They get stuck here in my head
And this feeling I dread, makes me wish I was dead
Or just alone instead, i'll be alone instead.
I don't need anyone in my bed
Just these ceiling tiles falling through my head."

Fuck dude, forget prose, I think poetry is your thing. It's like we just unearthed the long-lost fourth Bronte sister.

But then again, this guy likes Don Delillo and plays a Jag. Shouldn't I be eating this shit up?

I'm sure their CD has one of those "For Fans Of..." stickers on it. God, I hate those things. The last band on the sticker is always Converge too, as if Converge were the single most unifying and universally appealing band in the last twenty years.

This band is the culmination of the idea that if "you like A and B, then you'll love C!" And I hate that.

endnote: in my research for this post (yes, I do research!) I went to their website and found that they had written a novel-length "response" to Pitchfork's review of their album. Apparently they hate this band as much (or more?) than I do. Anyway, they go well out of their way to say they don't care what reviews say, and that every other review says their album is one of the best of the year! After which they proudly display a feature in NME, which is like a commercial saying that John McCain approves this message.

I need a video to wash all this suck off of me. How about Bill Callahan's serene video for "I Feel Like The Mother Of The World?"

This band is the musical equivalent to a thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters writing the Great American Novel.

gdb

clues

2008-09-17T10:08:00.000-07:00

If you're like me, sometimes you really fucking miss the Unicorns. It can't be helped; it's in your system and it's never coming out. That Nick "Diamonds" "Islands'-first-album-was-pretty-good" Thorburn dude is in another band now called Human Highway that just played their first shows with Paul Simon's kid and the chick from Lavender Diamond. They sound pretty good, but what happened to the other guy?

Alden "Ginger" Penner, the Unicorns' keyboard man (is there anything these ponies love more than a keyboard man?) did the soundtrack to the 2005 film The Hamster Cage which you can read all about here. Also, he's been playing in a new band called Clues with a dude from the Arcade Fire and fuck, I want the album NOW.

From their debut concert at Pop Montreal last October:

said the gramophone review

There is a recently posted video of him in the studio that gives me hope for the future:
Alden J Penner

And you can listen to more Clues here.

you're welcome,
megan elizabeth

Get in my magical flying gondola, Zach Condon

2008-09-16T16:30:00.000-07:00

I am still pretty sick and not getting a whole lot better. I am the only person in the entire goddamn world that gets hay fever in fall. I also think I'm having an existential crisis. Oh god.

I found this video:

a long time ago on that site run by frogs (La Blogotheque) that Megan is into, of Beirut doing "Nantes" on the streets of...somewhere. I really like this one and often come back to it, mostly because Zach Condon's voice is so enthralling. The concept of that sound coming out of that skinny motherfucker while he paces around the streets like it's no big deal is mind-blowing. That and I like gypsies. I read that when Zach turned 18, he hung out with a bunch of Balkan gypsies for a while and was a street musician. Dude, that's so cool. I'm not romanticizing gypsies, at all. In fact, speaking of gypsies reminds me that Fitz's mom used to tell him as a child that if he misbehaved she would sell him to the gypsies. I definitely have to use that one on my accidental children someday.

I also really like Zach Condon because I feel like he was also born in the wrong era and would really enjoy having us for tea in his parlor. We would hang out with this dude so hard it's not even funny.

This is a clip one of the extras in the "Elephant Gun" video shot of Zach doing "Postcards From Italy" on his parlor couch:

and this is Beirut in a courtyard playing "Sunday Smile:"

Beirut played in L.A. not that long ago and I really wanted to go, but all of my friends were being assholes and the dude I was kind of dating was being an even bigger asshole. I don't like going to shows by myself and I especially don't like driving to L.A. to go to a show by myself. Needless to say, I kind of regret not going anyways. Maybe someday I'll go to a show by myself but be more schizophrenic and bring someone to talk to that isn't necessarily another body.

Time to go let a Korean woman slap my hands with a ruler.

'stina.

clap your hands if you think your soul is free

2008-09-16T11:09:00.000-07:00

I was laying in bed this morning, stretching my legs to see if they hurt (they don't!) when a most unwelcome thought presented itself to me. When school starts up again, I really can't be dancing around at Dirty Monday all night. Maybe I'll drop in for a beer after rehearsal but I've got class at 9:30 in Irvine on Tuesday mornings. I can't prance about and leap majestically for a couple hours in ballet class and then engage in "dirty dancing" all night like the lowest of harlots. It makes me tired.

If you're tired too, wake up with the new TV on the Radio video, "Golden Age" from the upcoming album Dear Science.

This song is really growing on me. It's got a good beat with kind of a Prince feel to it. If I didn't feel like I hadn't slept in the last week, I think it would make me want to dance. I wish I could explain the shit that happens in this video, but I guess it's just science and baby you know I aint no scientist.

Also, just to review, if you see me in public, you have a few options for how to handle the situation. You may kiss my hand but you may not address me. You may address me but you can not make eye contact. You may gaze upon me. Putting your arm firmly about my shoulders and blowing your rank vodka red bull breath on my cheek is not an acceptable option.

watery with a smack of ham,
megan elizabeth

"I just look up and you guys are hugging on the snack aisle?!"

2008-09-15T14:43:00.000-07:00

I have been so fucking sick that I can't do anything but sniffle a lot and seek revenge on my classmates by writing E sharps instead of F naturals and laughing maniacally before collapsing into a coughing fit. And of course, buy shoes and gaze longingly at Victorian ladies' hats on the internet.

I've seen this picture floating around the internet and it makes me so mad I want to paint tiny pentagrams and upside-down crosses on my fingernails:

I feel like that photo alone makes everything that is wrong with San Diego/Riverside County tangible. Maybe I'm just bronley and need bromance and that's why I feel raw, unadulterated hate boil in my veins when I see shit like that. It might just be vodka. After all, I am feeling a little provodkative. With that said, I need someone to help me clip my weave in for Dirty Monday.

Other stuff going on in the not too distant future includes but is not limited to:

Tuesday:

Karaoke Contest at Penny Lane Pub in San Marcos. This is the second to last week to snake into the finals. Prize money! Beer! YEAH! (I will obviously be there since I am a judge)

Gurtrudestein with Rambo Knife and Ed Mudshi at the Radio Room (used to be the Zombie Lounge)

Wednesday:

The Oddfellows at Cane's. Obviously, I will be at that show since I am half of their fans. Also, because I have been trying to get Matt to let me play tambourine or some shit for like...years, now. There are two acceptable excuses for not coming to this show. One, is if you are on the terrorist watch list and will probably be sniped entering the venue, two is if you are in Gurtrudestein and are playing at O'Connells. Even then, it's barely excuseable. I'm still raising an eyebrow. It's their last show with one of their drummers so I guess I should stop being such a heinous bitch. I think I know which one, because they use codenames and shit. We talked to him for a while at the last show we went to and he is a pretty cool dude.

Saturday:

These Arms Are Snakes and Lanterns at The Che. This show might be awesome (if These Arms Are Snakes haven't turned into a bunch of fucking fruitbaskets in the last couple of years) but I don't want to talk about why I'm not going.

Tuesday the 23rd: Silver Jews at The Casbah. FUCK YEAAAAH. I told the Good Doctor that if Stephen Malkmus shows up I'll drop trou instantly. Are you a starfucker if you only go after dudes that were in 90's indie rock/early noise pop bands that never really achieved commercial success? I didn't think so either.

Which reminds me, I know it's a little early to start talking about Halloween but I want to make sure y'all get your plans straight. Our friends The Mistits (half of them are in the Emery Byrd) are playing their final show at Bar Pink. Yeah, John Reis' bar. Yeah, The Swami. BE STILL MY HEART! I'll probably be a zombie again, like I am every year. I really fuckin' love zombies though.

mixin' cocktails with a plastic-tipped cigar,

'stina

I fucking despair

2008-09-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Robert Smith just had a really bad day, y'all. The Cure released an e.p. with five remixes of songs from their upcoming, untitled double album, remixed by people like Pete Wentz, some guy from Fall Out Boy and Jared Leto. Dudes, this is going to be really hard for you to believe, but those guys aren't even the reason he had such a bad day. Check out this letter he posted to the Cure site:

PLEASE DONT BUY HYPNAGOGIC STATES EP FROM ITUNES FOR £7.99

IT IS ABSURD!

TMU HAS MANAGED TO FUCK THIS UP TO ANOTHER LEVEL!

MY EMAIL TO THEM TODAY IS BELOW
ITS EASIER THAN WRITING IT OUT AGAIN NICELY...
(THOSE OFFENDED BY COLOURFUL LANGUAGE LOOK AWAY NOW)

>

DEAR...

I FUCKING DESPAIR
AGAIN

HYPNAGOGIC STATES EP IS NOW UP ON UK ITUNES...

5 TRACKS FOR £7.99?
FOR FUCKS SAKE!

AND THE PACKAGE IS COMPLETEY MISSING THE EXTRA BONUS TRACK (65DOS ALT REMIX OF "THE ONLY ONE")

SO
YOU CAN BUY THE FOUR REMIXES BY 30STM/AFI/MCR/FOB INDIVIDUALLY FOR 79P EACH...

BUT YOU ONLY GET THE 65DOS "EXPLODING HEAD SYNDROME" REMIX OF ALL FOUR SINGLES IF YOU PAY £7.99 FOR "THE ALBUM"...

IE YOU ARE BEING ASKED TO PAY £4.83 FOR THE 65DOS REMIX... !!!
WHO THE FUCK IS GOING TO PAY THIS AND NOT FEEL TOTALLY RIPPED OFF?

IT'S NOT A FUCKING ALBUM!
IT'S A 5 TRACK EP
AND YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO GET AN EXTRA FREE TRACK (THE 65DOS REMIX OF "THE ONLY ONE") IF YOU BUY IT AS A 5 TRACK EP
AND ITS SUPPOSED TO COST LESS IF YOU BUY IT AS A 5 TRACK EP THAN IF YOU BUY THE 5 TRACKS INDIVIDUALLY...

THAT IS WHAT WAS AGREED

THIS IS SO TOTALLY WRONG
I REALLY DO FUCKING DESPAIR

WHY IS IT SO INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT TO GET ANYTHING DONE RIGHT?

PLEASE FIX THIS NOW

>

I AM POSTING THIS AS I FEEL

UPSET!

ANYWAY
PLEASE ONLY BUY THIS 5 TRACK EP FROM ITUNES WHEN IT IS AVAILABLE FOR AROUND £4.00 OR LESS AND YOU GET THE FREE 65DOS T.O.O REMIX - IT'S FAB AND THE MONEY (WELL - OUR SHARE OF IT!) IS GOING TO A GOOD CAUSE...

THIS GOES FOR ANY OTHER ITUNES STORES AROUND THE WORLD

LIKE JAPAN...

ONWARDS...
RSX

So basically, he's saying buy it for charity but don't pay too much. Just kidding, Old Bob cares about us. That's why we care about him. I think one of their silly English dollars is almost two of our solid, steady American ones, so that would be around $14 for five songs. Fucking outrageous! I fucking despair too! Even though I have no intention of purchasing said e.p., Robert Smith, I salute you. Fight the power!

make it work

2008-09-14T13:12:00.001-07:00

On Friday night 'Stina and I arranged to meet with Doctor Bubastis under cover of night, near to the witching hour. The location agreed upon was a known and well-lit pub, but when we met with him at the appointed hour he swept us up into his carriage before we could protest. "I require more privacy!" He declared.

He drove his carriage on violently, cackling as the wind whipped our manes into a frenzy. As he drove, he vexed us with unanswerable questions. "Who should win Project Runway this season?" "What is your favorite Spencer Krug song?" "How many drinks did you have the night you saw Xiu Xiu?" I reached for my smelling salts a moment too late. I fainted dead away.

I awoke in a parlor that looked a lot like this Beirut video, minus the video honeys.

We had wine and cake. The Good Doctor apologized for his uncouth behavior and we got down to some serious ponygirl business, as after all, Stina and I were decked out in our best business hoodies.

With business taken care of, we fell to chatting and an impromptu autoharp, ukulele and keytar jam. "So," the Doctor said, "what are you ponies doing the rest of the weekend?"

"Not too much, just getting sick and going to work anyway."

"But what about after the weekend?"

"Oh, you mean...."

"Yes."

"DIRTY MONDAY!" We cried, our hearts filled with glee and sparkles of joy dancing in our eyes.

"Why haven't you posted the new video yet? You're in it a couple times."

"Well, we've been feeling a bit under the weather, kinda busy..."

"FEEBLE EXCUSES ARE THE REFUGE OF THE WEAK!" He raged, his countenance threatening violence.

We will be at the Saloon tomorrow evening, faithful as ever, coughing daintily in our hankies.
-megan elizabeth

You're yes then you're no

2008-09-13T12:18:00.000-07:00

Most of you may not know that I was an award-winning world-renown journalist and gave it all up to blog. I also had an extensive ballet career I gave up to blog. Oh yeah, I was a fucking astronaut, too.

Back in my heyday I used to write an advice column because I am the perfect blend of relentless and acerbic. You know where this is going...

If you are just befuddled about something, anything, shoot us an e-mail at ponygirlclub@gmail.com and we'll make fun of you and stuff.

In other news, Katy Perry is in trouble with Jesus:

As my trouble-making super-villain alter-ego Consuela Gorgonzola would say, "Oh guuuuurl!"

Excuse me, I have to go pat my weave and do some probably illegal shit at work since SOMEONE doesn't know how to book appointments without double booking both artists.

'stina

one trick pony: the radio's hot sun

2008-09-12T18:21:00.000-07:00

We had a pretty good 9/11 party last night, getting hyphy with Jenni, Stevens Seagalll and Devin. I was sippin on some grape drink and Stina let me fondle her weave. Somehow the night went from shaking our dreads into a pretty serious Krug party. We were sitting on the couch listening to "Shut Up I'm Dreaming", silently contemplating the meaning of whatever when I turned to Stina and said, "Question: what's more romantic than a guy telling you to shut up?"

She shook her head and smiled a soft, distant smile. "Nothing."

So, pretty much needless to say, we are suffering from another outbreak of krugfluenza. Ever since he shook his fever (or hangover, I'm not a doctor) sweat on us at the Wolf Parade show, we have been infected. I'm pretty sure there's no cure except more Krug. Unfortunately, neither Sunset Rubdown nor Wolf Parade have deigned to include California in their fall tours. At first I was kind of offended but now that I've had some time to think about it, I understand. After all, it's fire season. Nobody wants to go on tour in a land of flames, especially not a bunch of Canadians who've never seen a fire outside of their own rustic hearths. What do they know of blazes that burn uncontrolled for days and watching the sun rise blood red in an ashy, hateful sky? What do they know about fire? To quote the drunken man I once tried to save from self-immolation in a fire pit on the patio of a local bar, I've been on fire all my life.

When I say krugfluenza, I mean my throat hurts and I haven't really left the house today except to buy kitty litter and pick up my paycheck.

I had a dream last night that might have been a fever dream about the movie theater where I had my first job. I don't remember a lot about the dream except for running around empty theaters and secret passages. A couple years ago I was writing a story about that theater that I should mostly have scrapped except for a few long passages of description of the theater: the theater as it was and is, rundown and shitty, sticky and broken; the secret theater that we knew, the rooms upstairs and behind the screen, the places we wrote our names; the dream theater it symbolized but never lived up to; the theater it wanted to be. It was equal parts gothic castle and strip mall trash. I was thinking about it a lot today. It's a lot like what I was saying about the radio last week, this romanticized vision of pop culture places that used to serve us but they don't anymore. Or just as likely never did. I'm pretty fucking young to make calls like that, but shit if I wouldn't rather watch Turner Classic Movies than drag my ass out to see whatever the shit's out right now.

Which brings me to the one trick pony song of the day, Handsome Furs "The Radio's Hot Sun".

This is easily my favorite track off of Plague Park, because it is kind of unexpected to end an album that is heavily reliant on keyboards and shit by strumming an acoustic guitar and singing a ballad that is as romantic as it is a refutation of those kinds of popular culture places, lifestyles, ideas, whatever that no longer serve us. Or at least that's what I'd say if I felt slightly more confident that I knew what he was talking about.

Fuck it. Let's get a freaking tamale.
megan elizabeth

ps nothing says "let's get back together" like late night calls from a restricted number.

NOT

Readers? Gather 'round!

2008-09-12T11:55:00.000-07:00

So, the Project Runway designers showed at Bryant Park (the episode hasn't aired yet, obvs.) and I am rooting for Jerell. I like Kenley as a person, but her clothes suck. The designs are always some sort of puffy bullshit in a horrifying print that reeks of the '40s. From what I saw on Jezebel, Jerell is the only designer that showed pieces that made me exclaim "omigawd FIERCE!"

Speaking of fierce, I have been drunk with power ever since I clipped my weave in last night.

There is some stuff going on tonight, but I'm sick so I'm probably just going to sit around drinking tea and bitching. That's what I do anyways but usually it is beer and not tea.

The Casbah: Demasiado, Irradio, Firethorn, Fkenal, $5.

The Che: Snuffaluffagus, Asher in The Rye (TX), Brian Warren (of Weatherbox) and Census, $6.

u-31: Feel the Noise, $5.

Also, the San Diego Sports Club is doing some fund raising pre-party for the San Diego Music Awards, so if you feel like getting roofied, hit it up. The flier said they're "under new MGMT" so either someone is waiting with baited breath for a new record from those Brooklyn fruitcakes that played "Lord of the Flies" in their last video or they're trying to convince the world that dudes won't drop shit in your drink again. Once, at the Saloon, one of the nicer bartenders accidentally dropped my change (quarters) in my drink, but gave me another one, FO FREE, so it's cool. Quarters and tonic ain't that bad.

'stina

Who here is into DEAD CHICKS?

2008-09-11T20:25:00.000-07:00

These dudes are:

the Oddfellows @ Dreamstreet

I'm pleased to finally make The Oddfellows Pony Girl fodder, as they are playing at Cane's on the 17th. I know it's a Wednesday, but quit being a bitch. Learn to rage. Learn from us. Matt Fitzgerald (previously referred to as "Fitz"), the singer/songwriter/guitarer is one of my favorite people in the entire fucking universe and is enormously talented. The problem is, the universe won't give him a break. If you like the 90's, drunk chicks and some good old-fashioned shredding, come to this show and hang out with us! If you're a hot dude we'll totally carpool with you! On the flip side, if you're gonna pussy out, at least check out their myspace and maybe pre-order their album, "Accidents Happen."

In other local bands that have members that are acquaintances of mine news, Gurtrudestein put out a video last week (or something, my time table is always a little fuzzy). They play a lot of shows, so if you feel like getting your face melted off and having tinnitus for a few days, hit one of them up. Yeah, it's loud and I'm old and grouchy and complain a lot (about everything) but these dudes (and chick) are fucking rad.

"Negative Field:"

If y'all will excuse me now, we're getting hyphy tonight. I already got my weave in, gotta find my dunks.

goin' dumb at the sideshow,

'stina

I'll Make Love To You (Like You Want Me To)

2008-09-10T17:09:00.000-07:00

So a couple of amigos of mine went up to mother fuckin' LA last night to see Mogwai at the Wiltern. They asked me to go but I said no because Mogwai sucks. The Wiltren is a pretty nice place though—except it's a little big and the tickets are a little pricey and the beer is fucking extortion. I saw the Mars Volta there back in 2004—which if you're keeping track is just before they entered their all-consuming black hole of suck.

Anyway, thinking about Mogwai got me thinking about post-rock. Why do people still like it? I mean, sure, it was pretty cool back when it was pretty new and different and like “totally out there," but that shit got so stale so quick. I think I blame those turd merchants in Explosions In The Sky. They're pretty much the Vanilla Ice of post-rock. Which is pretty tough to do because there's a TON of shitty post-rock out there. Like, a ton. Mainly because it's taught a whole new generation of assholes that they don't need to worry about being able to play the guitar anymore—they can just play a few notes and then fuck with pedals. Sweet! Oh and it eliminates the need for a singer, because I think we all know the hardest thing to find in a high school band is someone who doesn't totally blow at singing. Well, drummers used to be hard to find too, don't know if they still are, mainly because i'm not in high school anymore.

Back to the point: I fucking hate Explosions In The Sky. Like, great, you make music that sounds like a reverb pedal and a splash cymbal thrown into a blender and set to pussy. I swear to god they only have two songs: that one with all the reverb that eventually crescendos and the one with all that reverb that doesn't eventually crescendo. Want to know how they decided to mix it up for their newest release, “All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone"? They added piano. YEAH, PIANO. Fuck. What, did you guys suddenly realize in the middle of one of your ballroom dance competitions that piano is totally sweet? I'd rather listen to Cradle of Filth's cover of "Hallowed Be Thy Name." “All Of A Sudden I Miss Godspeed You! Black Emperor" is more like it.

This music, to me, just sounds like it was all made with a montage of “main character dealing with hard times” in mind. It's just so fucking vacant to me. It's about as real and emotional as a greeting card or Al Gore. But of course it's sappy and “pretty” and “dreamy” or whatever. Which just means they're going to be the official wedding reception soundtrack for every single scenester wedding for the next 15 years. Congratulations, you're Boyz II Men for the white belt crowd.

And I also hear they're notorious for pussing out on shows all the time—like either canceling or calling it quits after like 15 minutes because “they're tired." Seriously? What, is having to man more than one Line-6 DD4 and a Holy Grail at the same time too much work for you? Are you guys late for a knitting class? Or do you just really miss your fucking girlfriends? Ugh. Maybe they just figure that after more than two songs everyone in the audience will realize that they only have two songs and get pissed. But then again their fans are like 16 and stupid as fuck. They're the same 16 year olds that think the Blood Brothers rule. Does not fucking compute.

But this all comes back to Mogwai. I don't hate Mogwai like I hate Explosions In The Sky. They've been around and they seem like hard-asses. Plus their music isn't bad, it just doesn't do anything for me. “Mogwai fear Satan” is a pretty good song.

gdb

I turned back into a white girl at dawn

2008-09-10T12:07:00.000-07:00

The Wu-Tangxperiment is finally over you guys! I didn't really think anything happened except you know, like, being angrier and stuff, but the weirdest thing happened this morning when I woke up.

Let me preface this by saying that I NEVER fall asleep in clothes. The last time I passed out in clothing that was not pajamas was also the last time I drank whiskey (it makes me tired), on Walker's 21st birthday, almost a year ago. That night alone qualified as a "bender." The sausage fest and I (seriously, am I the only girl you guys know?) had dinner at Yamashiro in the hills and when I say "dinner" I mean there was a bottle of Jameson circulating under the table. After sufficiently upsetting all the other patrons, we headed to Tiny's. Still, to this day, Tiny's is my favorite bar. It's small, filthy as sin and the jukebox is full of Black Sabbath and Slayer. Fuck yeah. To make a long story short(er), seven vodka redbulls later I was hiding from a really hot guy that asked me to do coke in the bathroom with him, chain smoking American Spirits in the photo booth and shrieking at Fitz that I was "too drunk to move." We had all gotten a hotel room somewhere on Highland (I think it was before Franklin?), so we could keep partying without pissing the neighbors off but I was done for and stomped back (easily13 blocks, it's kind of hard to tell because Highland stops having blocks and turns into bullshit right quick) only to pass out on my back (go figure), sequins and all. After about an hour I woke up, promptly called Adam Scott to scream at him for leaving me passed out on my back and thus susceptible to a John Bonham. He said he wanted to get to In-N-Out before they closed. Fair enough, I suppose. GOOD THING I DIDN'T DIE, ADAMSCOTT!

Oh man, I've been in VH1 Storytellers mode recently. Back to the real story...

I woke up in this pair of jeans that read "Apple Bottoms." Weird. I haven't worn anything besides black skinny jeans for probably two years, save for that one pathetic pair of slight bootcut Citizens. I was sweating like nobody's business and realized I was wearing wedge boots adorned with fur. Half my hair was in tiny braids and I found what looked like barbie hair with clips sewn on clipped onto the back of my head. I had these outrageously long acrylic fingernails with some strange design on them, it appeared to be...zebra print? Was I going to fully "turn" if I had another day left to go? Would there be any turning back?

I'm glad to be back from whatever Wu-Tang werewolf shit was going on there. What was the first song I listened to this morning? Lilly White, by Rocky Votolato. Yeah, I'm a total pussy. I could've gotten out of bed and slid around in my socks, Risky Business style to "Number of the Beast," but no. I go for a whiskey drinking sad guy with a guitar. Not as bad a trying to put the moves on a lady to Joanna Newsom. That shit don't work, probably because she SUCKS. Okay, playing the harp is kind of cool but her voice is a cross between an old asian woman and a child. Like if Bjork gargled a bunch of battery acid and turned eight. There are times you can tell she could have a normal, maybe even pretty voice. Why would you intentionally sing like that? It's not cute, there is nothing redeeming. OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHY DO PEOPLE THINK THIS SHIT IS COOL?

Back to stuff that I like, this is a video of Rocky playing at the Casbah, with a band. I've seen him with a band once and twice solo. I like the band better.

"Portland is Leaving:"

This is a video of him solo, doing a song that is kind of...solo. "Mixtapes/Cellmates:"

There is another video from the Casbah that you can hear Jenny K. and I yelling in but it is embarrassing as shit so I'm not posting it.

keepin' it real,

'stina

Area Man Discovers Horses Do, In Fact, Have Feathers

2008-09-09T15:41:00.000-07:00

Dirty Monday was certainly dirty. I heard Jenni woke up still drunk with her cheeks full of Doritos like a chipmunk and Megan woke up with a few phone numbers. I just woke up with a giant-ass fro because I decided at some point it would be funny to turn my head upside down in the bathroom and shake my hair out. Oh shit. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because I was hittin' the drank like I couldn't miss, I don't get 'faced too often these days. I've got my fair share of horror stories, none that would rival Courtney Love, but trust me, I had my days of stomping around Hollywood, not caring what kind of trouble I could've gotten in. I remember one time Walker and I decided on a "quiet night" that involved a party in the valley that turned into getting lost in the mountains before Walker sprung it on me that he had been drinking during the entire time I was playing real-life Frogger with Los Angeles mountain lions and was subsequently "kinda buzzed." Thank you sweet baby jesus for google maps and verizon mobile web.

Anyways, on to what is really grinding my gears today...

What is it with indie labels and apathy? The new Horse Feathers album is out today and Kill Rock Stars doesn't even mention it on their main page. Are they so painstakingly indie that they only update their website once a week and are currently too busy offering the fucking sheet music to the entire new deerhoof album when you pre-order? I recall another incident in which a band I like (31 Knots) put out an album (Worried Well) and everyone (Polyvinyl, Pitchfork, wikipedia) pretended it didn't happen. Oh shit, I should review it. Regardless of my forgetfulness, I don't understand this fuckery. It's not like these labels are putting out five albums a day or have tons of money to blow- what's the point? Why wouldn't they just make 8-tracks for everybody like that guy Aria from railcars? I know the point isn't to make money, but I'm sure the point isn't to run yourself into some stupid-ass debt hole over street-cred either, is it?

Personally, I would be throwing a serious party if I had an album came out today and so would my label because that's how it goes in the world according to Christina. I'd get like circus animals and shit because keeping wild beasts captive and training them to do stupid tricks is pleasing to me. Oh, and balloons. And a lot of whiskey. I don't even drink whiskey but I know all the cool guys do so I should too.

If I didn't have to go judge karaoke tonight I'd go straight to Lou's after school to get "House With No Home" despite the fact that they probably don't even have it. I lost Justin Ringle's e-mail address like a dillhole, when I say "lost" I mean it might still be in the cavernous pit that is my purse. I think I might remember it. I told myself to wait to do the interview so he wouldn't be touring and it would give us a chance to put our heads together but Megan said she doesn't really have any questions and I just keep forgetting. I'll write the questions tomorrow. Seriously, I swear. One of the songs is up on the 'Feathers 'space and it is lovely as expected and here is a video of a couple songs he played with a band (when they opened for Thao it was just him and Nathan Crockett, the hot barely legal violin prodigy) at some show I wasn't at about a year ago:

(careful, the sound is really bad and gets unreasonably loud at some points but "Blood on Snow" is one of my favorite songs and this is the only place on the internet you can hear it)

'stina

You can call me Al

2008-09-09T09:52:00.001-07:00

Got dirty at the Dirty Monday last night. And by "got dirty" I mean I was pretty gross already when I got there. Three hours of ballet was just a warm up, bitch. I needs to get down. And collect phone numbers, apparently.

Unrelated: if I get a tip on Saturday, it might take me until at least Tuesday to blog it, especially if I've been drinking too much in the past week and the tip involves me doing some research. Give me time but don't stop giving me tips. Unless you're a dick.

That's what she said.

Moving along, one of the far flung members of the Pony Girl Society for Musical Appreciation recently had the pleasure of enjoying a live performance by Ratatat. I didn't know much about Ratatat except that I always have to double check if I'm spelling their shit right and that I liked their second album Classics. I'm not usually a huge fan of electronic music but I kinda dig Ratatat's video game jams.

Things I have learned:
Ratatat has released two volumes of remixes, like this one of Notorious B.I.G. "Party and Bullshit".

Ratatat released a new album in July called LP3 because it's their third LP. I listened to the thirty second samples on iTunes and I don't know how to feel about it. There's a more international feeling but sometimes it kind of sounds like the songs that come pre-programmed in a cheap keyboard. It sounds to me like there's a lot less bass, which takes things down a peg in my estimation. Regardless, fans of Ratatat seem pretty into it once they get over that "change" problem. Here's a pretty good track off that album: "Flynn"

Ratatat will be in San Diego on Friday at the House of Blues. I will not be there because those things cost money and I just paid my tuition.

I snuck a look inside your skull and said, "don't look now"

2008-09-08T16:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend I went on a really emo roadtrip. By myself. To Orange County. For like four hours. As per usual I was having some personal problems resulting from a series of increasingly bad decisions begun in 2004 that took me until two hours ago to resolve. Blah blah, whatever, don't care. I wish I could say that I spent my roadtrip listening to the Shins and tell y'all about how it changed my life, but I mean, do you think four hours in the OC has ever changed anyone's life? COME ON!

I was listening to Swan Lake's album Beast Moans, bringing back 2006. I heard something in June about them having finished recording a new album but I can't seem to find much information on it, probably because even the most thorough googling eventually yields results like this:

I'm just going to assume that is good news for the future of our ballet-in-progress, tentatively called, "Shut Up I'm Dreaming of Ballet".

It was a natural jump from Swan Lake to Destroyer, and really, who better to listen to on an emo roadtrip to somewhere a good forty minutes away from home than Destroyer?

That's at least ten times more appropriate than listening to Destroyer to put a lady in the mood for love, not that I'm talking about anyone in particular here. Just that I might be.

Destroyer put out a new album in March called Trouble in Dreams and it's pretty fucking awesome, if you like Destroyer, and I do. I was surprised to hear a new, clearer version of "Shooting Rockets" on that album, if only because when I hear that song on Beast Moans I don't immediately think it's a Dan Bejar song. I like the new version a lot better than the old one, not that I didn't like the old one, just that the old one comes right after "Are You Swimming in her Pools" and it's hard to get my attention when I'm just pushing the back button as hard as I can. So check that out.

I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to sew the elastics in my new slippers.

Human Interest: Texting, Slutty Knits and Eye Gouging.

2008-09-08T15:04:00.000-07:00

Tonight is Monday, so we gonna get dirty at the Saloon. You know, Dirty Mondays. I don't even get off work until 10 p.m. so feel free to go earlier and get us a table.

I think listening only to Wu-Tang is kind of like having a drug problem, there are a lot of ups and downs. With anger comes depression. I'm so gay for Spencer Krug that I have a picture that I took at the Wolf Parade show set as my background on my phone and it breaks what is left of my blackened icy heart every time I open my phone that I can't put on a bandanna and yell along with the accordion in "For the Pier" while I am tearing into the parking lot at school. I have to put on that bandanna and my hoops and quietly mutter "Shame on a Nigga." The flip side to crying jelly bean tears over Sunset Rubdown is that I've been even more intolerant of other people than I usually am. My theory professor is a serious nerd and kind of looks like Falkor, he has managed to go four for four and mention Star Wars in every single lecture thus far. I understand that it's hard to listen and stuff when it's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra and he drones on about how much it sucks to arrange for American Idol because they want you to double sharp triads or some shit but HOLY FUCK PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY. I got stuck next to this mouth-breather that would alternate between sleeping and texting his probably fat girlfriend, in front of this dumb cum dumpster who kept putting her dirty feet on the back of my chair LIKE I COULDN'T FEEL IT and behind this girl that (was probably raped as a little girl) wears crop tops every goddamn day and is constantly turning around looking for the approval of others. Bitch looks at me like she's Ursula and she's trying to steal my voice to keep in her seashell necklace, but in her case it's a tribal tramp stamp plopped between her freakish back dimples. No, you can't have my approval to keep in your tramp stamp. FUCK ME SATAN. Days like today make me wish I could shape shift into hawk form and fly around the room, scratching people's eyes out. I know I sound like a total sociopath right now but I don't really care, just don't freak out because I said that chick wears slutty shirts because she was probably raped, because I'm probably right. She's at least some kind of a psycho hose beast. I listened to a lot of loveline growing up. I'm pretty much a doctor.

Anyways, I gotta go stick my nails on so I can go to work and stuff but enjoy yet another round of videos I can't watch. This time it's Drive Like Jehu.

"Do You Compute?"

"If It Kills You"

"Hand Over Fist"

Pony Girls buck wild with the trigger,

'stina.

Bitch, hold my hoops so I can beat your ass

2008-09-07T23:31:00.000-07:00

I decided sometime last week it would be really funny if I listened to nothing but The Wu-Tang Clan for a week and documented what happened. It was a really bad idea. I already had an ethnic crisis in high school when I decided I wanted to time travel to the 70's and be in the Black Panther Party. What the fuck did my parents do to me? Jesus.

So, I'm on the tail end of day three right now. I have naturally curly hair but I straighten it because I like to whip my silky mane around in people's faces, especially if I am dancing. Today I woke up and decided not only did I not feel like bathing, but I wanted really fucking huge curly hair. By the time I got to work and had three back-to-back appointments I was in no mood for sass. Recently (seriously, only in the last week) people have been doing this thing where they raise their arm and flick the air with their index fingers as if they were scratching another mark onto an invisible snooty tally keeping track of god knows what- basically the most offensive way you could get a waiter/waitresses' attention. Mind you, I am not a waitress and will not be treated as such. I'm not rude to guests, by any means, but bitch please what do you think this shit is? Chili's? No, I will not take your goddamn order and in fact I am going to go spin around in a salon chair a few times and clean my brushes. I suddenly felt drunk with power. The Wu-Tang enabled me to not allow myself to be treated like a doormat! Throughout the day, I noticed a few more things that were out of character for me, like saying things along the lines of "janky-ass weave" and "trick-ass-lyin'-ass-bitch." I haven't really done anything else weird except do a double take walking past a package of spinning faux-chrome hubcaps but I'm pretty sure I would have done that without the Wu. Maybe. Come on, it's not like I'm doing the Wu-Tang dance every time I have to take a shit or something. For fuck's sake, you guys.

I'm a little bummed about the Wu-Tangxperiment right now because I kind of wanted to come home and harmonize some cadences to Pavement because I'm stuck in the 90's.

You guys enjoy these Pavement videos while I go wrap my hair into my headscarf for sleepin'.

Spit On A Stranger:

Cut Your Hair:

Shady Lane:

and dedicated to Jenni, Summer Babe (live):

Pony Girl Club ain't nothin' to fuck with,

'stina.

Maybe It Was The Right Grave...Maybe Not.

2008-09-07T17:46:00.000-07:00

Back in 2003, most of my time on the internet was spent between watching porn (pterodactyl porn, that is) and trying desperately to find a left-handed Fender Jaguar. But in between all that excitement I somehow managed to find some unimportant, unassuming little music blog where some unimportant, unassuming dude who probably had a beard posted a big play list along with an MP3 and paragraph or so about each song. I didn't listen to all of them. Even at 18 I was a busy man. But one caught my eye: "No Children" by a band called The Mountain Goats, whom I had never heard. The song was from their newest release, 2002's underrated Tallahassee, and all it took was one listen: I was hooked. I was at the mercy of a band called the Mountain Goats.

Welcome to the world of John Darnielle, who since the early 90s has been churning out at a rather alarming rate some of the best nuggets of writing you'll ever find from a musician. Whether he's writing about a teenage death metal band from Denton, Texas, a guy who spends his life-savings on flowers and mobiles, H.P. Lovecraft's xenophobic nightmares in New York, or a truly beautiful account of what went through his mind when he find out that the man who made his childhood a living hell died of a heart attack, the most important thing to realize about John Darnielle's lyrics is that he writes like a writer, not like a musician trying to be a writer. The point of the song is always underlying, with the real power coming from the minute details he bestows upon his characters that elevate them beyond the simplistic, melodramatic stick figures you see in most songwriting. John Darnielle does not write for the girl that is looking for the one quotable phrase which really sums up how she feels about life that she can get tattooed below her left breast. John Darnielle is barely even quotable. Setting and lush characterization don't make for quotable songs. But then again, he also rules at writing ANGRY! lyrics. From the song "Baboon" off of The Coroner's Gambit:

"Daisies on the hillside like cancer on the skin,
pretty little yellow eyes that flutter in the wind,
I'd be grateful that my children weren't here to see this
if you ever saw fit to give me children.
And my defenses may be working with a skeleton crew
but i'll be skinned alive before I take this from you."

More than 20 albums and 250 songs later (with plenty of back-catalog that I don't have), I am still frequently amazed at the level of detail Darnielle displays around every corner. Believe it or not, up until 2005's terrific The Sunset Tree, he had never written a song about himself. In 14 years of purely fictional songwriting, Darnielle accomplished more real, honest emotion that a lesser writer (read: pretty much any musician) could ever hope to if given a lifetime heart-on-my-sleeve-and-I-cry-on-stage shit. But in recent years, Darnielle has turned his borderline anal-retentive attention to detail inwards, and produced two deeply personal albums; The Sunset Tree, which focuses on his childhood and abusive stepfather, and Get Lonely, which finds Darnielle for the very first time singing about his own heartbreak. But, true to form, Darnielle avoids the cliched pitfalls of this type of writing and instead hons in on the day to day minutia involved in getting back on track. From the song "Woke Up New"; "The first time I made coffee for just myself/I made too much of it/but i drank it all/because I know you hate/when i let things go to waste." Using the term "literary" when referring to lyrics is usually pretty trivial and a sure-fire way to make you look like a jackass, but I think the term fits here. John Darnielle embodies what it means for lyrics to be literary. A favorite of mine is his "Going to..." series of songs, which each find our narrator at some location, be it Georgia or Bolivia, dealing with issue of post-adolescent wander lust and feelings of displacement in the world.

Until 2002's Tallahassee, Darnielle stuck to pretty militant lo-fi standards, going so far as to have recorded all of his previous albums on an old Casio boom box. Yeah, he doesn't fuck around. But during the recording of All Hail West Texas the hiss of the boom box became a drawl, and it's days were numbered, destined to be left behind in some lonely West Texas desert. But to replace the old-friend, John hired a full-time bassist, went into a real studio, and even started using drums every once in a while.

One thing I like so much about John Darnielle is his ability to balance aspects of his music that seem to be in total opposition to one another. His early lo-fi, "slapped together" recording mantra seemed counter-intuitive to his highly thought out, fauned over lyrics. His nasal voice is there to counteract the mundane nature of his lyrics, forcing the listener to pay attention to him in way that stands in place of "instantly quotable" lyrics. His "dime a dozen" guitar talent stands in stark contrast to his ability as a writer. And even complete tonal discrepancies in songs; such as the jaded, angry lyrics of "No Children" set against the peppy, jaunty piano track, or the sugary-sweet guitar work in "Tianchi Lake" that masks the fact that the song is about a sea-monster with a horse head and sea lion body killing a bunch of kids at the beach ("No one's taking pictures--everybody's dead".) I love it.

So anyway, this is just sort of a haphazard, head-cold induced tribute to a guy I like a ton. Here, he even has a guest spot on Aesop Rock's new CD, and surprise surprise his lyrics are terrific:

I'd start with something from the studio-albums, like maybe The Sunset Tree. His new one, Heretic Pride, is really good as well. If you're feeling crazy and want to jump into his boom box albums, maybe start with Full Force Galesburg or All Hail West Texas or New Asian Cinema or Devil In The Shortwave or Ghana or Nine Black Poppies. Fuck it, just get anything you can find.

Just be careful, The Mountain Goats are one of those bands that you can really get absorbed by. You know, like AFI or Tool, minus the truck-load of gay.

The GDB

Deal breakers: Flip Flops

2008-09-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

Feet are really yucky. I might be kind of jaded because I have really fucked up ballet feet but I don't care how many French pedicures you get, shit just looks like talons dipped in white-out. Feet are not "dainty" or "cute." Naturally, dude feet are imminently worse because I'm sexist.

A couple nights ago I saw a dude at the Saloon that was like, stupid hot. As in, so hot it's stupid. However, he was shuffling around in flip-flops. Goddammit. If he had taken 2 more seconds to put real people shoes on my panties probably would have disintegrated on the spot.

I bet these dudes don't wear flip flops:

The first time I heard Pissed Jeans I was sitting on the floor of some dude's apartment in his "record den." I didn't really care a lot, I just wanted to make sure my hair was still flat. Now I am seriously amused by them, anyone who is a claims adjuster or accountant by day and writes songs about diarrhea by night is cool in my book.

'stina

Hotties of the week: Foals

2008-09-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

I want to meet guys like this so I can axe them if they have hot friends or a hot dad. Swear to God it works every time.

Who: Foals, self-described "snotty art school drop outs hungry for the dollar". Baby, I got a box of dollars under my bed, I promise.

What: Pop music that doesn't make me want to stab myself in the eardrums.

Where: Oxford, UK

When: They're going to be in SD for Street Scene on the 19th. I would buy myself a ticket if I didn't suspect that being outdoors all day would kill me. I'd probably die of melanoma that night.

Why: Why are they hotties of the week? Seriously? You need to axe me that?

Serious Hipster Brawl Causes Fans at Festival to Immediately Change MySpace Statuses

2008-09-04T13:35:00.000-07:00

Bands have been brawling since...forever. The Killers vs. The Bravery, Sarah Palin vs. Roe vs. Wade, my solo project vs. Panic! at the Disco, so on and so forth. I found out about my new favorite band brawl today when I was 'net stalking the singer from Foals because he has a slight case of the Schwartzman face.

Apparently at some festival in Spain in July, Kele Okereke, the (black) singer from Bloc Party got his ass beat by John Lydon (Johnny Rotten, who actually now looks more like Dr. Cox from Scrubs)'s buddies because his "problem" is his "black attitude." Okereke allegedly asked Lydon if he was going to re-form Public Image Ltd. (post Sex Pistols and just as shitty) and that calls for a series of racist remarks and a knuckle sandwich or 12? While his crew was teaching Okereke a lesson for being black because they're still all sooooo punk and shit, Lydon was apparently taunting the singer from the Kaiser Chiefs and somehow the singer from Foals ended up in a sleeper hold/passed out and handcuffed. Naturally, Lydon denied the fight and tells the media to tell Okereke to "grow up and learn to be a true man," but Foals' tour manager said otherwise. Tour managers don't lie. They're not lawyers or anything. Above that, the hot one of the two dudes from Neon Neon jumps in and said that shit was scary. Not really, the word he used was "horrific." You know what's horrific, Gruff Rhys? You saying you want to dip your pinkie in. WHO GOES PINKIE FIRST?!

Good news is, Bloc Party apparently has a new album coming out in October but you can procure the digital copy when you pre-order the physical copy. Whoops. Bad news is, it's probably gonna mostly suck because "it's a break up album." Ahh fuck. They have a couple songs up on their myspace and "Signs" is a good one.

All of that aside, I really want to start arranging band fights. Celebrity Death Match style. Motorhead vs. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, Kraftwerk vs. Crystal Castles. I'd give Kraftwerk some weapons though, since they are older than sin. Maybe some nun chucks? Oh, that reminds me, White Devin once told me not to keep nun chucks in your car because you will probably get arrested for a felony somethingerrather. Since White Devin is a pretty smart guy, you should go see him DJ at First Street in Encinitas tonight from midnight to close. We'll be there. Maybe at the Saloon first. Who knows. Also, if you are around Carlsbad or can be at 4 p.m. the California Public Utilities Commission is having an emergency public participation hearing to reconsider changing our area code to 442. It would cause a reprehensible amount of waste to get rid of the bajillions of business cards and stacks of letterhead, not to mention less eco-friendly fixtures like GIANT ASS PLASTIC SIGNS and thus, in my opinion, is environmentally irresponsible. CPUC Public Hearing: TODAY, Thursday, September 4, 2008. Carlsbad City Hall Council Chambers, 1200 Carlsbad Village Drive, Carlsbad, CA 92008.

I'll be in class at 4 p.m. trying to creep on some hotties in the MIDI lab, so I need y'all to go for me. Other than that, I'll see you tonight. In your dreams.

'stina

emily, miss bronte if you're nasty

2008-09-04T12:15:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what I did last night but something seriously fucked up my left shoulder. If you saw me do anything that looked painful (besides karaoke with stevens seagalll which merely sounded painful) be a friend and let me know what it was. Maybe it was from that dude at filibertos touching my shoulder and referring to me as "the secretary from the saloon, shaking your fucking rump. What's your name? Emily? Emiliah." That was pretty painful. I'm so obviously a librarian, GAWSH. Or maybe it was from stevens calling me "sugartits" in front of my mom. Maybe I hurt myself trying to teach 'Stina's cat circus tricks. There's a lot of possibilities because I like to live on the edge.

Anyway, for a while there's been buzz around water coolers other than the ponygirl water cooler about a band called Fleet Foxes. I'm not really sure how to feel about that. There's a new Blogotheque video of them performing "White Winter Hymnal" and it's very pretty but they just don't excite me. It's a strange thing, this it sounds good but it doesn't move me feeling. I have this feeling that they'll be one of those bands that everyone will either forget in three months or turn on when/if they put out a second album. This video makes me want to like them more.

I can't explain it. Pitchfork gave it a 9 but they also want us to like Animal Collective so, you know.....
I can tell you what I hate. This scary animated video for the same song.

I really wish people would stop thinking shit like this is cool. Claymation is creepy and unacceptable.

To cheer you up, here's a video of the Dodos from the very same night playing "Fools".

Feel better now?

Today After Lunch I Got Sick And Blew Chunks

2008-09-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

Due to the magic of High Definition television I have already seen tonight's episode of Project Runway, and therefore have very little to do with myself this evening. So I figured I would take this time to let everyone know that I will be visiting the much-dreaded City of Angels this weekend to attend a Why? show.

Why? is cool, maybe you should check them out. They're on Anticon and sound like they're on Anticon which leads to a pretty polarizing public opinion about them. Their/his new album Alopecia is pretty boss and maybe you should check it out. Places like Pitchfork went ape shit over it. I actually saw Why? play years ago and I didn't know who they were. I dug it. The backbone of the band is Yoni Wolf's lyrics, which are equal parts poetic and vulgar, as self-assured and fun as they are neurotic and disarming. I think that's what I enjoy most about the band; Wolf's lyrics aren't shy about opening up the big can of crazy he apparently is, most often dealing with an uncomfortable shift from childhood to adulthood sprinkled with an intense neurosis and self-deprecation.

Here's a bizarre music video for a pretty righteous song called "Dumb Hummer". It features some weird chick dancing.

As we all know the only reason to set foot in LA is because their venues rule. So, if for some unfortunate reason you live in the area, check out Why? at the Echoplex on Thursday night.

cities vs. submarines

2008-09-03T11:11:00.000-07:00

I'm aware that I haven't been posting much lately but you guys need to settle the fuck down. I've got a lot on my plate and I have to finish my veggies if I want to have dessert.

Speaking of which, I've got a pretty sweet ep for your delectation. It's by railcars, the brainchild of one Mr. Aria C. Jalali. It was recorded on Jamie Stewart's (Xiu Xiu) kitchen floor and Jamie Stewart plays mandolin and some percussion on "Saints are Waiting For Me (Outside My Door)" and "Through the Trees Lay Smokestacks". Railcars is a sort of flexible title for a project that at times is just one guy with a bunch of electronic toys but can expand to a four person line-up like they did back in April to play with Handsome Furs.

I know you're thinking, name-dropping is all good and well Megan, but what does it sound like? This is going to sound overly reductive, but Railcars hits a note (well, a bunch of notes actually) that falls in the halfway point between Handsome Furs and Xiu Xiu. He uses similar driving rhythms to Handsome Furs and both artists tend towards soaring melodies and yelping vocals. However, where Handsome Furs are clean and minimal Railcars is fuzzy and distorted, tending toward a fuller sound. Railcars' taste for complexity and the occasional dissonant surprise reflect the influence of Jamie Stewart. Aria's karaoke jam is "Dancing Queen" and my best guess is that the ABBA influence is something you just have to see. My favorite track is probably "Bohemia is Without a Sea" because it feels the most like a good, loud rock song. Over all it's a solid ep with a clear vision. The only thing that bums me out is that I can't really understand most of the lyrics and I'm a douchebag english major who thinks words are a little bit important.

The thing I understand the most is him wailing something about the radio in several songs. Lately I've been noticing that the radio has taken on a kind of mystical significance as a symbol for people of my generation, and by that I mean I hear a lot of songs that mention the radio. Which is interesting because of how much the radio sucks in all actuality. I don't know if it's because we've grown up hearing old pop songs romanticizing the radio and these new songs are emerging about a dream radio broadcasting things that touch us, that we will love or love already, things we actually want to hear. Dream radio brings us together. Sometimes I think maybe San Diego radio is just that much worse than anywhere else because of the insane clear channel monopoly, like we just got a raw deal and everyone else everywhere else is rocking out to real music while our five adult contemporary stations play Jack Johnson again. I don't know. I don't have all the answers. What I'm saying is, I really want a radio show. Make it happen, internet.

Oh, and Railcars, Cities vs. Submarines out September 12 on Gold Robot Records. Pre-order that vinyl here. I'd play it on my radio.

They're Still A Band?

2008-09-02T23:54:00.000-07:00

There comes a point in every music lover's lifetime when a band reaches a certain point of irrelevancy—that is to say, every now and then you say to yourself “I officially don't give a shit about this band anymore” and go on with your life. Time passes; you listen to new music, gain a little weight, stop thinking Donnie Darko is a good movie...hell, you might even get laid once or twice. But then something happens. The very same forces that have kept any and all information about this band that you “don't give a shit about anymore” from you have conspired to bring you your first news of this band in almost a decade. It's shocking for several reasons. First it makes you think about the last time you had actually heard anyone talk about this band, which in turns make you feel old as fuck. Then, the ultimate question beckons:

Fuck, they're still a band?

Welcome to your favorite new PGC feature, wherein I will discuss bands that have faded so far from relevancy that they've drunkenly meandered into Metallica territory. First up on the chopping block: RANCID. So hop in my DeLorean and buckle up...we're about to go back to the motherfucking 90s.

Dial 9-9-9 If You Really Want Rancid to Stop Making Music

No joke: up until last week I thought Rancid's 2000 self-titled album was the last thing they released. How was I to know? Tim Armstrong started that awful rap rock band with the Baron Von Tito, and Lars Frederiksen sold suck by the gallon in Lars Frederiksen and the Bastards. Tough name dude. I actually saw Lars and the Bastards open for the Nerve Agents way back in 2001 or 2002 and even then dude was looking pretty fucking old and haggard. I'm pretty sure he was wearing some kind of back-brace too. Bitch looked like Bob Barker minus the tangerine tan and hot chicks.

So anyway, most people around my age that actually listened to cool music before Myspace and shit should remember that Rancid was fucking everywhere back in the day. And if you didn't have some huge ass rancid patch on your Jansport backpack i'll bet some serious dough that it was an Operation Ivy one. Fuck, even at 15 I knew Op Ivy sucked big time, but that shirt was EVERYWHERE. You couldn't ignore it. It's like those kids today that run around wearing that fucking Misfits shirt even though they've never listened to the Misfits, or even worse have only listened to the post-Danzig Misfits. But anyway, i'm not going to front—every now and then it's still fun to get drunk as hell and bust out Let's Go for some serious crust Karaoke. Then again this is coming from a guy who's ultimate Karaoke album is Taking Back Sunday's Tell All Your Friends. It's just that when I heard that Rancid is still around and making music, I just couldn't help but wonder why. Who still listens to this stuff? Did they build a huge mainstream following after that time they played Ruby Soho on SNL, motherfucking Liberty Spikes and all? Seriously, I haven't seen someone rocking a Rancid t-shirt or ass patch or whatever since way back in like 1999 when I still thought Lagwagon was cool. There must be some underground sewer community of twenty-somethings with a serious case of arrested development rocking their Dead Kennedy's studded jackets and grooming their Devil Locks that are keeping bands like Rancid and Anti-Flag in business. On their parents credit cards, i'm sure. Punk fucking rock.

So in doing research for this post I found out that Rancid went on “hiatus” from 2004-2005. That's news to me and probably everyone else in the world not in Rancid. Seriously dudes, didn't you get the memo? Hiatus means you're breaking up. Aren't At The Drive In still on “hiatus”? You know they're not getting back together because most of them are way too busy dropping acid and making shitty music. So seriously, hiatus = DEAD. What'd you do for that year anyway? Did it take doctors that long to figure out what kind of herpes Tim got from that hyper-skank from the Distillers that he was married to? Seriously that bitch sounds like she's been choking on dicks made of brillo pads most of her life and somehow looks even worse. And I guess now that they're officially off hiatus (thank the lord!) their original drummer left and was replaced by, get this, the drummer for THE USED. Do you remember those turd burglars? Me neither. Fuck dudes, was the guy from Finch not available? Drummer for From Autumn to Ashes turn you down? Bottom of the barrel dudes....big time.

In summation, there's way too much new shitty music in this world for us to have to deal with shitty music from 1995 that just won't go the fuck away. On the unbelievably rare occasions that I feel like listening to Rancid (and i'm talking Terrence-Malick-making-a-new-movie rare), about three songs of And Out Come The Wolves will totally tide me over for the next half-dozen years or so. I sure as fuck won't be reaching for anything they've made in the 21^st century.

Next you're going to tell me The Vandals are still around.

Wait, what? They are?

I have a lot of work to do. Fuck.

-Dr. B

The Pony Girl Club presents: A Guide to Talking to Girls at Parties

2008-09-02T21:45:00.000-07:00

I will let it be known now that I fucking hate parties. I hate other people and I especially hate other people I don't know. Faced with the choice of going to a party or being forced to watch octopus porn, I will obvs. go to the party. I am really shy and socially awkward, I am kind of like a bunny in a wolf suit. Needless to say, if you act like a total butthole it's gonna be more wolf than bunny. Here is a poorly assembled list of...stuff that might guide you in talkin' to the laydeez in social clusterfucks.

1. Don't ask to try on a girl's glasses. It's annoying and you look stupid. Both of us are bespectacled because we are blind as shit. We have a handful of friends that are also, for the same reason. Come to think of it, I don't actually know anyone that wears fake fashion glasses. Probably because those are for fucking idiots and I don't like hanging out with fucking idiots. Why not get contacts and stop looking so misanthropic? Because I have really bad allergies and 99 percent of the time it's not worth it to start poking around the 'balls. Heh, get it? Eye BALLS. I am really self-conscious about my glasses, partially because Jenni says they have corn husks on the arms (they're rosebuds you asshole), but mostly because they seem to be the perfect ice-breaker for dickbags. Bring on the naughty librarian jokes. I'll just tell you I don't know how to read.

2. Never tell a girl you remind her of a Nickleback song. She'll tell you that you remind her of a gay Canadian with a microscopic ween or a Vegas strip club.

3. Actually try listening. Here's a secret, women love talking about themselves. Shocker, I know. Even if they don't seem like it, if you get them started on the right thing they won't shut their whore mouths and it's annoying as shit. I wish I could control it better. Example: yell "MIDI" in a crowded room and I will zone in on you like a goddamn hawk and talk circles around you for at least an hour. It is a pretty bad idea to ignore what a girl does tell you about herself, if I say something along the lines of "I like watching Project Runway with my cat but I am also pretty into making music and movies and music for movies and shit" it would be a good idea to not respond like this: "Yeah, okay so you watch a lot of TV. Do you do, like, anything creative?" Fuckass. Listening is pretty easy, just try to pick up on key words. Example scenario:

[in an empty living room at a party]
Me: Backscratchaaa!
Jenni: Backsratchah!
Random dude walking by: BACKSCRATCHAAA! Oh man, I love Family Guy. What other cartoons do you guys like?
Me: Metalocalypse, Home Movies, you know, whatever.
Random dude now stopped: Oh cool have you seen Venture Bros? That's my favorite.

Success! That counts as a conversation. We might keep talking to you because you didn't just run into the room and verbally wave your dick around.

Which brings me to...

3.b. Don't fucking freak out if a girl doesn't ask you about yourself. Don't stand up and yell the Reader's Digest version of your life story when there is a lull in the conversation because you said something stupid and the laydeez is sick of talking to you in an attempt to not be rude to their friends' friends.

4. Do not EVER tell a girl she smells like any of the following: A churro, a slim jim, love or regret.

5. If you ask a girl for her phone number and she says no, it is a good idea to go find the closet she is hiding/sleeping in and lay down on her and ask for the digits again when she tells you to get the fuck out. NOT!

6. Throwing a chair at a girl is not a good conversation starter. I don't care how much G.G. Allin makes you want to "rage," that shit is unacceptable.

7. Don't lose your shit if girls whisper to each other in front of you. That's what they do. Girly giggles and whispered secrets keep the world going 'round. Do the math, there is a 30 percent chance we are whispering about a dude. 50 percent of that 30 percent is "I'd hit that from behind" and the other 50 percent is "when is this asshat going to take his soul patch and his self righteous-ass out of this room?" There is a 40 percent chance one of us is kind of deaf and the other is soft-spoken. Most importantly, there is a 30 percent chance the conversation is about bodily functions we think are hilarious but don't walk to talk about within legitimate earshot of any dude, regardless of foxiness factor. Don't scream "SECRETS DON'T MAKE FRIENDS" if I lean over to say something to my buddy. Guess what? I don't want to be your friend and I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear us talk about fro yo farts.

8. Don't namedrop bands for the sake of namedropping. If you have a legitimate jump, oh say, Sunset Rubdown to Destroyer, that is acceptable. Talking to girls that are really into music isn't the Kevin Bacon game, I don't want to hear more than two levels of connection. None of that "oh you like Norwegian black metal? You must totally love As I Lay Dying!" shit. Yeah, I love them about as much as I'd love scooping my own eyes out with a rusty grapefruit spoon. God, just typing "As I Lay Dying" made me need to get up and open a beer (when I say "open" I mean I couldn't find the bottle opener fast enough so I had to smash the neck against the bumper of my H2 and leave all the glass in the cul-de-sac where the children run barefoot), which brings me to...

9. Don't like stuff that sucks. There are deal breakers like the ones Megan mentioned in the "How to Talk to Girls at Shows" post, like mentioning having accidentally killed a kitten as a teenager or your love for Dave Matthews. Yeah, it's shallow or whatever but shit like that is important to me because it's my life. Kittens, I mean. While other people are really concerned about matching their Lacoste polos, I just want to yell about the injustice of Pitchfork giving "Dear You" a 2.5 and I want you to agree with me. If you say something like "I don't know why Creed broke up, they were the best band in the entire world" I will make my worst thizz face and say something like "oh yikes." That means DO NOT CONTINUE TALKING.

10. Be yourself and like that self. I personally believe in the life philosophy of wearing my crazy on my sleeve. We're not stupid and we can figure you out pretty quickly so you might as well save yourself from becoming slumber party fodder and be honest. We're probably kind of into it anyways. We're nerds too, we read medieval literature for fun and get drunk and play rock band. It's cool dude. We like getting hyphy. We hate bathing. Whatever. We were already pretty foxy but just because I just admitted all of that we just gained like 17 more internet boyfriends. I mean fans. You know what else? If I get the energy sword I'll kick your ass. I will also close your gate to Oblivion so fast it's not even funny. I go MIDI first. Suck it.

I got 99 problems and bitches are all of them,

'stina

Dudes are psyched

2008-09-01T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have got a whole lot of rant up my sleeves today but I'm not going to unleash it until later. Soon, you'll have the Pony Girl Club guide to talking to girls at parties. Tonight, we are doing some R&D at the Saloon. Yeah, it's Monday. Labor Day is just as dirty as any other Monday, if not more.

Video from two weeks ago:

Tomorrow is the Penny Lane karaoke contest, as usual. Not a lot of people are signing up so it's pretty much a shoe-in. There's money at stake. How does it make sense to not go? IT DOESN'T.

Thursday, our buddy White Devin is DJing at First Street in Encinitas. If you're into a skinny white guy in short shorts playing three hours of Pavement, hit it up. I'm just kidding. About the Pavement thing. Last time I made that joke he said he plays other stuff. I think.

Right now, I'm listening to this band from yee olde PDX, The Blow. I ran into my friend Rodel at the grocery store and he told me his wife got him into them (yeah, I dish on new bands on the produce aisle. Whatever). He also told me he feels kind of gay for liking them. He probably should, it's funky yet definitely kind of cutesey electronic stuff. Megan says I have previously grumbled and skipped past them on her pod's shuffle, but I grumble and shuffle past a lot of stuff. Why wouldn't I, especially after that casiotone for the painfully alone incident? Once, on the way to Round Table, Megan held me hostage in her car and played this one CTFTPA song over and over again and stared into my eyes like she was sucking my soul out through them. She said we were having a "moment." I just wanted some pizza, man. I just hate that guy. I think that's why the soul-sucking occurred in the first place. I even stopped mildly disliking Meathead for a minute to agree that Owen Ashworth makes Conor Oberst look like Henry Rollins.

Anyways, here's a video from The Blow:

Party time! Excellent,

'stina!

Dolla dolla bill, y'all

2008-08-30T02:19:00.000-07:00

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:

'stina

Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willlis?

2008-08-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

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,

'stina.

Richmond Is A Hole

2008-08-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-28T15:23:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-28T14:50:00.000-07:00

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...

'stina

charming

2008-08-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

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.