girl about downtown

does marketing fund terrorism?

2005-03-23T16:32:00.000-05:00

I ran across this article in the "all M.I.A." issue of the Minneapolis City Pages and found it so compelling and appropriate; it's a must-read.

i know, i know...

2005-03-23T11:04:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a while, mostly because I've been really sick, and for that, I'm sorry.

I didn't even find this article on The Bravery getting bitchslapped by their hometown mag with about as much ahead-of-the-curve credibility as my shoe, on my own.

For that, we have lstiz to thank!

they paint a thousand words

2005-03-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

Holy Shit this band is awesome.

You can stream three of their most excellent tracks here.

Mark my words, Every Move a Picture will come out of Southby with huge buzz.

i liked the like long before they liked the like

2005-03-15T12:41:00.000-05:00

Rolling Stone has named The Like one of their 10 bands to watch in '05. Good for them.

Balick has wanted to hit on them since last summer and Pique and I loved their Knitting Factory show last September.

So there.

she don't surrender

2005-03-15T11:50:00.000-05:00

Apparently, Bloggers really like M.I.A.

I would call myself more of an online diarist, but as you know, I heart her, so click here to read a Q & A with the one and only M.I.A.

(Footnote: Balick...where's my copy of Arular? On the way indeed.)

Ever heard of the energizer bunny?

2005-03-15T11:27:00.000-05:00

I literally haven't stopped since Thursday. I am so exhausted, I seem to be fighting a losing battle with my eyelids, and I don't know what trick they're going to pull on me next.

On Thursday evening, I headed uptown to mid-mid-town to join the girls for a happy hour our friend won when she dropped her business card in a bar. We had some bar food, half-priced drinks and chatted for a bit, before I departed to meet Jeffrey at ICP for the Larry Clark Retrospective opening that (as any art opening does) had cheap wine, pretentious conversations about art and young, hot, gay art stars. I spotted Michael Pitt, who looked a lot less greasy than I expected and also ran into an ex-boyfriend who may or may not be completely sane. While I was originally not a fan of Larry Clark, I sort of question his enduring voyeurism into the lives and sexuality of adolescents, specifically young boys, I really enjoyed the body of work overall and have both a newfound respect for him and free art book to remember the evening by. It was also interesting to see the casting notes from Kids and remember how much of an impact that movie actually had on my life (I'll spare you the details.)

After the opening, I met Alex and Dan in the EV and we headed out for a very, very late dinner. We only made it as far as Lucien, which was fine by me, and had a wonderful meal and (at least on my end) drunken conversation. Two VTs, a few glasses of wine and another few vodkas later, I was spent and after stopping by my apartment, they headed home and I literally fell into bed.

Friday, after barely surviving the nine-to-five, we met up at Euzkadi where we enjoyed and amazing tapas dinner and some fruity sangria. We met up with Lola and Pique on 2nd Ave and headed to Crash Mansion to see Clap Your Hands and another few bands we totally ignored. Let me just ask one question about Friday night...Who's idea was it to eschew mixed drinks and down *only* shots, chasing them with $2 PBRs? I mean, what kind of degenerate spends their evening taking round after round of shots??? Oh, yeah, that would be me.

At 2 AM CYHSY *finally* took the stage just as the toll of what had to have been 10 rounds of vodka took its toll on me. I would like to issue an open apology to the band as we stood up front snapping pics of each other and them (which if my camera were working, I would post here), yelling, screaming, dancing and generally being entirely inappropriate and obnoxious. I don't think I'll ever make it to another CYHSY show, and if I do, I'll have to go in disguise.

Only god knows why when the snow started to fall outside, we left Crash Mansion and headed for 2A. Did we *really* need to have another three rounds? I doubt it. I don't quite remember what was said, or how many shots were done. But at 4AM, as Pique departed, yelling at her companion for being a party pooper, we all went our separate ways. I got a drunken, misspelled text from Lola, assuring me she arrived home safely, just as I fell flat on my ass (by myself, I might add) somewhere between 2A and my apartment. Pique said the highlight of the evening was when Lola and I greeted her in the crash mansion bathroom wearing the exact same color tee shirts, but I contend my favorite part was when Lo and I snuck into an adjoining stall and peeked over the top to find our two girls being the mischievous women we know and love.

I'm not going to lie. I won't mince words: Saturday was painful.

Other than ordering a bacon, egg and cheese and fries from the diner across the street and obsessively doing laundry in anticipation of my familial visitors, I sat on my couch, cursing Bacchus for leading me into endless temptation. I left to meet my mom and sister at Penn Station and took them home to my place before we went to Schiller's for an early dinner. We were home by ten, just in time for me to regroup and meet "the young kids" for more drinks around the nabe. Pretty standard, except that it was my last night with Alex and Dan, so we chatted, relaxed and strongly monitored the alk intake.

I'm not really sure if I even woke up on Sunday. I mean, I know I got out of bed, showered and got dressed, but I'm not positive I was fully conscious. The moms and the sis took my roommate and I out to brunch and although we arrived at Clinton Street Baking Co. early enough, we still waited an hour and a half for a table. You might ask why in god's name anyone would ever wait that long for brunch, and if you did, clearly, you've never eaten at the aforementioned spot. It was heaven, our brunch, and my sister quickly pronounced it the best breakfast she's ever had. Since she's never been to the big apple, I considered that a pretty damn good compliment.

Anyone who knows me well, knows I have an intense proclivity for shopping, and by proclivity, I mean obsession. After spending a weekend with my mom and sister, I know know that, like many addictions, this one is genetic. We spent most of Sunday roaming downtown and topped it off with an excellent meal at my favorite nyc restaurant, Blue Ribbon Bakery. We arrived home and mom and I watched Before Sunset which I totally loved, even better than Before Sunrise, in fact.

I won't bore you with the details of my Monday, which included catching up on work and editing email communications, but last night the girls joined my mom, sis and I for a wonderful dinner at Lucien. I love it when Mom comes to town and sweeps me off my feet with a culinary smorgasbord at varied downtown restaurants. There's really nothing like it.

You can say it, it's okay...I'm a spoiled brat.

please send me to montreal...

2005-03-09T09:46:00.000-05:00

...unless it's colder than it is here. In that case, send me in a couple of months.

Pitchfork don't waste any time. Click here for a profile on Owen Pallett and his solo project Final Fantasy.

this is the dream of win and regine

2005-03-08T12:44:00.000-05:00

I am not the first person to write about this video, and more obviously, about this band, but I certainly won't be the last. The Arcade Fire's newest video for my favorite song "Rebellion (Lies)" is now available on MTV.com for your viewing pleasure.

And let me just say, I totally adore what I could see of this creation. (My work computer monitor isn't great and I watched it while eating my decidely boring lunch.) Of course, MTV had to screw it up by posting some ridiculous summary about it, but nonetheless, this is a beautifully ethereal representation of the song with Win as a pied piper and Regine as a spritely wood nymph.

This is exactly what I would have thought a video for an Arcade Fire song would look like. I can't wait to see it again and again and again.

Update: Balick directed me to this article in Rolling Stone on Arcade. All I have to say is, if that's really the way Win and Regine are, they are a) my favorite couple in music and b) something every married couple could aspire to.

dear sons and daughters of hungry ghosts

2005-03-07T14:53:00.000-05:00

YAY! I just received my very own copy of Wolf Parade's self-titled six song EP. And, oh, how I wish there were more than just six for me to enjoy. Alas, I'll have to wait until they finally put put a full length on Sub-Pop.

I'm all for sharing the wealth, so click here to download "Grounds For Divorce."

an honest mistake?

2005-03-07T14:26:00.000-05:00

Thanks, Laur, for sending us this little gem that proves for some rockstars, fame doesn't automatically equal an immediate obsession with supermodels. Sadly, I think it means The Bravery's loyal hometown fans have been eclipsed.

More commentary on the relaxing and fun-filled weekend later (a few tidbits include: a bad movie, gallery hopping with John Waters and Meryl Streep-ok not with exactly, fantasy baseball drafts and a tasty dessert outing), right now, I am working...not carrying on myriad gmail conversations, I swear.

intercontinental psychoanalysis

2005-03-03T09:56:00.000-05:00

It's truly amazing what a good chat with a best friend or a night out with the girls can do for you when you're feeling confused. Last night, I was lucky enough to have had both.

As I waited pateintly at home for my Internet-ordered groceries, I got a call from BerlinLaura who stayed up until 1AM to respond to a rather confused and unsettled e-mail. Seriously, who else but a girl who's known you for 15 years would do somethig like that? But I digress.

Anyway, we proceeded to dissect my the depth and breadth of my confusion, my thoughts, my emotions. My internal monologue of self-doubt, fear and guilt became an external one and ever patiently, Laura listened and said all the things that made evrything right in the world, at least for the duration of our call. I felt like I was in a flavored coffee commercial, except that since I couldn't stop talking, the coffee would have been flavored with speed.

Then all the girls came over for a couple of drinks (or in Pique's case, a couple of shots) before we headed out to the Tsunami benefit with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, The Natural History and The Fever at Crash Mansion. We arrived just in time to hear three songs from CYHSY (one of them my favorite) before they left the stage. If I weren't seeing them at the same venue next week with Alex and Dan, I would have been pretty bummed. After their performance a few weeks back at Sin-e, I was looking forward to hearing them again, especially in the hopes that with more gigs, their stage presence would have improved. I really want this to be true, so I'll just type it out and it'll be so: CYHSY's live performance improves with each show they play.

After sitting at the bar and catching up with an old friend, we made our way up to the front to see The Natural History. Damn, those boys are hot. I mean, seriously. They played a good set, but it was sort of like watching Brad Pitt act in a movie. No matter how good a job he does, he's still Brad Pitt, he'll always be hot, and you won't be able to focus on his um, "craft."

We left during The Fever's set and the 5th Street crew went uptown as Becca jumped in a cab and the Lo's hopped on over to Happy Endings for the Interpol afterparty. I got home in time to gulp down a bagel and a bottle of water, thus warding off any possible hangover, and went to bed.

So, after my friends so bravely endured my ranting and raving, and thus improved my overall emotional disposition, (oh, yeah, thanks for that, girls!) I leave you with this little nonsensical gem:

I have eaten 3 bagels in 15 hours. They all tasted different.

unconditional

2005-03-02T10:06:00.000-05:00

It's early, I'm tired and I can't manage to focus on my computer screen. So instead of doing something that requires actual brainpower, I thought I'd eke out a post.

First off, what is up with The Brits and The Bravery, man? NME has a major crush on them. The online pub has posted stories about them almost every day this week, including today's about demand in Londontown being so high, the band was forced to add a third show. Oh, Lola, gone are the days when we can follow Sam around Bowery Ballroom pretending we might actually work up the courage to talk to him!

In other not-so-news, iTunes has posted a free, seven-minute long sampler of Moby's new record, Hotel. While I have to say, as a personality, I find Moby extremely irritating, I do have to confess both Play and 18 came to me at very significant turning points in my life and thus, I always feel musically, a little bit connected to them. I have a feeling (or is it a fear?) that Hotel will come at an equally consequential time for me.

Okay, thanks for undulging me in my morning caffeine/blog fix.

money can't buy me love...

2005-03-01T15:03:00.000-05:00

Living in an overpriced city such as New York, I always feel totally bankrupt, and not just morally...financially, too.

So when Balick sent me this link, I felt better for like, two whole seconds.

Thanks, Balick, you always know how to deliver a backhanded compliment.

green is the new blog.

2005-02-28T17:42:00.000-05:00

Dear (faithful?) readers,

You may have noticed a few changes here of late. Intermittent postings, a new name, and now, a whole new template. So I thought since you so loyally read this for it's incredibly interesting, articulate and thoughtful posts I perhaps owed you a bit of an explanation.

I know I haven't been around lately, that I've been blogging with less fervor and timliness, and for that I apologize. You see, it's been a little dramatic here in downtown New York lately, by which I mean, the empty wasteland that is my brain has actually been kind of busy with life-altering events and existential crises (and yes, that's plural.)

Think frontierspeople making the trek out West, covered wagons, tumbleweeds, hooved animals, but in cuter outfits, without all the death and all in my pretty-but-often-drunk little head.

Not making sense? Sound cryptic? Welcome to my world.

Anywho, I'm back. And I ask you, what could be more fitting for a new name, a new beginning and a renewed commitment to writing what I can only hope my children never read than an adorable, cute new outfit?

So, here it is: brand new look, same great taste.

You may now shower me with love and affection.

Love,
ME.

lost souls forever

2005-02-28T11:49:00.000-05:00

I feel like it might be a little late to post about the Kasabian show, since it was like weeks ago, but I would like to point out that I've decided rock stars are boring. Struggling musicians are much more interesting. Fame and fortune (albeit relative) sort of muddle the tortured aspect us girls like to save. Or maybe it's just that the Kasabian boys were just a bit too trashed, even for rockstars.

Let me go back to the beginning. The four of us girls arrived at Irving just as Kasabian took the stage. Now, it's important to note that they were opening for The Music (a band I have little interest in) and so their set was early and brief. Still, they totally owned the crowd and rocked the house. It was loud, it was vibrant, pulsing and all around rocked. For a second, even though we stood toward the back, I sort of felt like we were in a vacuum. Like everything else stopped and all there was in the world was right then and there. I couldn't shake the memory of the verisimilar (yeah, I'll take 10 cents for my word) scenes in 24 Hour Party People when the Happy Mondays took the stage at the Factory...and even though Irving is a far cry from Manchester and Kasabian--while behaving recreationally a lot like I imagine the Mondays did--have much more appeal and reach than the Mondays.

The show seemed too short and I wished I'd been able to see them in November at Bowery (stupid business trip). Literally half the crowd emptied out after their set, too, which is an excellent barometer for their popularity and success. We hung around a while during the Music's set, but were too easily distracted by the bar, imagined Sharks-vs.-Jets-style blogger face-offs and friends upstairs, so we headed down to Eleven for the afterparty which left quite a bit to be desired. After downing a free Red Stripe, we went home, a bit deflated that our big night with the rockstars ended up being so entirely dull.

girls just want to have fun

2005-02-24T11:48:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I changed the name, so what?

While "the mouse show" will always be near and dear to my heart, life is changing and change is good.

So, I present to you the aptly renamed chronicle of my mostly boring but sometimes comically embarassing exploits.

Call me a nouvelle vague Holly Golightly...with the drinking problem but sans the Givenchy.

Lady Killah

2005-02-22T14:25:00.000-05:00

A little Pique sent me this article/commentary/review of M.I.A.'s new album, Arular. And I have to say I've had similar thoughts of being so obsessed with this MC and fetishizing/appropriating her music to the point that I felt a tiny bit of an orientalist aesthetic creeping through.

That doesn't mean I don't still love her, but I like my music commentary to be multi-faceted, even if I always bitched about the left-wing-radicalist liberal arts curriculum at Lang.

my gift to you is a moldy pizza

2005-02-22T10:38:00.000-05:00

I think my dedication to blogging is faltering a bit, since I haven't updated on last Thursday's Kasabian show, which I'll get to, you know, later...

But I wanted to take a quick sec to point out two pieces of news in order of importance.

First, today is Jon's birthday. If you don't know Jon, well, then, I feel sorry for you, because you're missing out. I heart him for many reasons, including: the fact that he and Matt (but mostly Matt) got kicked out of the Tribeca Grand; that he once served me a moldy pizza at 2 AM in Chi-town and I ate it because I was so, um, "hungry"; after Matt left me to move to LA, Jon invited me to become a groupie for "My Name is Jonas" and finally, because this boy has so much talent he fronts--count 'em--three tribute bands.

In any case, even though he is not a reader of the mouse show, I still wish him a very happy, messy, debaucherous b-day.

And my second piece of "news" is that Pitchfork today reviews Final Fantasy's album, "Final Fantasy Has a Good Home."

That is all.

back to the music

2005-02-16T14:40:00.000-05:00

Every Wednesday I compile a newsletter of pertinent music-related articles from publications across the country for work. However banal this task may seem, it's one of my favorite things about my job, because, in addition to an almost unlimited supply of legal, independent MP3s I get to read all about music scenes across the country and, for the cumulative hour or two I do this, get paid for it.

In any case, I ran across this article in the Village Voice about the sad trend of small, downtown indie music venues being forced to close their doors.

Also, and I type this with the heavy heart of a girl in rapt anticipation, M.I.A.'s forthcoming solo album, Arular, has been postponed indefinitely.

And finally, lucky girl that I am, I got my hands on a copy of the Decemberists forthcoming album, Picaresque, yesterday and am enjoying it profusely. Click here to download the track "We both go down together."

delusions of grandeur

2005-02-16T09:57:00.000-05:00

Interesting...it's been more than a week since my last entry. Part of me wishes I was writing this while riding on an LIRR train to the beach eyeing my expertly written, beautifully illustrated diary missing two years of my life, sorta like that wacky movie with that guy from Ace Ventura, Pet Detective and that girl who is so obviously crazy because she can't decide on a normal haircolor and oscillates between hot pink and blue and doesn't take care of her roots.

Or maybe it's just that I was listening to Death Cab's "Movie Script Ending" on the train this morning and I wish the last week of my totally mundane, pedestrian life that I pretend is incredibly dramatic was really the opening of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Alas, I'm just another faux New Yorker reading the New Yorker on the 6 and living the life of someone advancing all-too-quickly on her quarter-life crisis.

Speaking of New Yorkers, or quasi-New Yorkers, apparently, I've decided they aren't so bad and I'm to remain one. Basically, as most of you already know, I've been agonizing for months about whether or not relocating to Chicago would be a smart move. I had the possibility of a job there at a sort of prestigious advertising firm, great friends and contacts at three of the city's best live music venues who could supplement my addiction to shows with guest list spots, to name just a few of the "pros."

But then I got a pretty attractive offer to stay here at eMusic, and I began to realize that saying you're going to leave New York and actually doing it are two very different things. So, I guess this means I'm staying.

Don't all shout "hooray" at once, I know you're excited (part of being a quasi NYer, I've decided, is the illusion that people actually care--tee hee, just kidding).

But seriously, how could I leave this amazing city? This weekend, as Matt was here visiting me for Valentine's Day, he tried to convince me that LA was the new Williamsburg. But I never really hung out in Brooklyn anyway, and two-thirds of the Yeah Yeah Yeah's does not a compararble downtown East Coast scene make. So there.

Anywho, after all of this "confusion" and "drama"...I'm back...mostly because my friends were beginning to believe that I was comparison shopping cities just to get some attention. In light if this, do you think throwing myself a "going-to-stay" party is a little much?

a little bit of summer in the dead of winter

2005-02-06T13:06:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you a little something about last night's M.I.A. show.

Wow.

I haven't felt so much energy, so much raw fucking sexuality on stage in one performance since, well, maybe ever. M.I.A. stormed the stage with such matter-of-fact command that you never even gave her total control over the crowd a second thought. Like the sky is blue, this girl owns it, and of course best of all, she knows it.

Adele, Laura, Laura and I got to Knitting Factory at about 11:45, sadly just missing Diplo's pre-show warmup. And I have to say, while Knitting Factory was never my venue of choice, I have never seen it buzzing like it was last night. There was palpable excitement everywhere, and inside the main space, you couldn't move, you could hardly even breathe. M.I.A. took the stage just as we got our drinks at the bar and absolutely tore it up. The whole crowd of New York City's most discriminating, we've-seen-it-all music aficionados, was floored; singing along, dancing, throwing arms into the air. If nothing else, M.I.A. taught us that, well, we may have seen a lot, but she's still got a thing or two to teach us.

After a mid-set costume-change, the room was so hot even M.I.A. had to take a break, our MC, as of now my own personal live performance hero, belted out hits like Galang, MIA, Uraqt, Sunshowers and Bucky Done Gun, before leaving the stage (off to Misshapes) and--wait for it--NOT DOING AN ENCORE!

I love it. How long have I been saying I wish artists would just forgo the obligatory, I-know-you-want-me, two-song, second set and leave us wanting more?

2005-02-06T13:05:00.000-05:00

Not wanting to leave us entirely in the lurch, Diplo took center stage, wowing the crowd with his--simply put-- absolutely superior DJ skills. I mean, does this guy have a bionic ear or something? He's fucking unbelieveable, and that face of his doesn't hurt either.

The four of us danced, sweated and were compltely blown away by Diplo's command of the decks. All I can say is, if M.I.A. is the front for this operation, the Diplo is most definitely the unwavering, unfailing support.

We made our way to the front bar to rehash the amazing performance we just witnessed, had some drinks and decided where to go next. There were rumblings of the after-afterparty in a certain superhuman DJs room at The Rivington Hotel (where I hear Nick and Jessica are also staying) as well as the old standby Misshapes, where M.I.A. was making a repeat NYC appearance.

I accompanied Laura outside as she smoked a cigarette and she so-obervantly pointed out M.I.A. not 10 feet from us, looking petite and absolutely glowing. She climbed into a nondescript Ford Explorer on her way to Misshapes and I realized, she couldn't have been bigger than one-and-a-half olsen twins, physically speaking of course. Charismatically, she's bigger than life--on stage she looks ten feet tall--but on the street she's just another girl going from one big party to the next, doing it all in her yellow miniskirt and white high-top Chuck Taylors.

In the interest of time and space, I'll spare you the rest of the evening's details, but I will tell you this: go download M.I.A.'s Galang, get your hands on a copy of "Piracy Funds Terrorism" and buy tickets to Coachella (that just went on sale yesterday) so you can see this duo perform there.

Flying to the desert to see this phenomenon in action, at whatever cost, is well worth it, I promise.

You can thank me later.

...you came back to me...

2005-02-04T01:24:00.000-05:00

He's back, he's back!

No, not Matt, he'd never come back to New York, I'm talking about my life partner!

My iPod has returned to me! And despite my jealousy, my painful memories of spending nights in bed, alone without his warm embrace, of solitary morning subway commutes, of painful afternoons ambling, lonely, on the unforgiving downtown streets, no iPod to share private jokes about a song or a memory of that long-lost evening in Florence and our the playlist created for that very night...I welcomed him with open arms.

I had no reservations, asked no questions and made no allegations.

Tonight we were the only two um, people, in the world.

And oh did we relive the beauty, the wonder of our common experiences! (After all, we had my entire music library to reload!)

And we went to bed with the hope, nay, the promise! of more to come...all those downloads on my work computer, just waiting to be transferred with the love only a high-speed firewire connection can provide.

Somebody must really like me up there.

I heart eMusic

2005-02-03T16:59:00.000-05:00

(and it isn't just because I work for them.)

They've got M.I.A.'s single available for download!

my favorite part is when he called his list "very strict"

2005-02-03T10:59:00.000-05:00

This is how you spell entitlement.