Festivus, for the rest of us!

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

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.

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

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

Dirty Mondays: Stayin' clean

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

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

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

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

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

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

Area woman discovers time zone within time zone: Boy Time

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

Always better to over-fierce than under-fierce

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 wifebeard 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

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)

"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!

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

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

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

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

What are you doing Nov.4?

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

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

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

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"

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

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

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.