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

Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Marketing Demographic

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.

cities vs. submarines

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.

I won't rest until I don't care

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Do What I Want, When I Want

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

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

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

This here first video is for "Boy Soprano"



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



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

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

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



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



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





gotta find my upside down cross necklace,

'stina

music for the drive home

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

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

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

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

Yeah, you know what I mean.

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

Oh fuck, P.S.