June 30, 2004

TROUBLE, FUNK.

I am going to save the rapacious wit for my review for my leige lord , but I will tell you a little something about !!!'s show tonight. Some are inclined to call them a jam band, but really they are just a band with long songs. Their horn arrangements are their absolute saving grace, the thing that punctures through Nic Offer's lizard king humpty hump on the lip of the stage. I used to defend his vocal stee, early on, but he really sounds like a bad animal. Overall, they were good. The new issue of XLR8R calls their songs "vagina detonating," which they were not. People were dancing, writhing at times, but from where I stood, all the vaginas in the room seemed intact.

Went to the bar where three !!!'s were djing. The drummer is the only one who can mix, he played some Biggie, I felt fealty towards him for this. The bassist I had seen DJ before and did not care for, yet again, watched as he learned the lesson that the white white kids of Chicago, nothing scares them like dancehall. (Unless it's the Sean Paul cameo in Baby Boy, which despite being un-decodable, Miles knows the words -- phoenetically, mind you -- due to the fact that on his shift at H&M, he has heard it no less than 500 times, he guesses.). I did not dance. Miles and I sat on the zillion dollar couch and talked about self-loathing. I ate filthy candies from the recesses of my purse to avoid smoking. A man in Oprah's clothes and too many rings hit me with his purse after doing a dance for us. I got on my bike and left the disco club.

Posted by Jessica at June 30, 2004 02:12 AM | TrackBack