July 13, 2004


I hate to complain, I know they are really high class problems:

Someone made me listen to the new Magnetic Fields today. I had never heard them (him?) before. Man alive, it's really terrible. He's terrible. Listening to MF, all I can think of is Stephen Merritt, laying in a bathtub, or more so -- a hammock, dressed like Orville Redenbacher *, acting dandy snapping his suspenders, his smirking accompanied only by fitful ukelele strums (for emphasis). It is the whitest (and by white, I mean white) music I have ever heard. Is Swanny River the b-side? MF is so unapologeticly soulless, I wonder why people have not been lining up to call him a rockist cracker for years.

Secondly, a call, from an editor, saying no go: I was all set to interview a band, tommorow, for a cover story for a national magazine, no less, until a call came up from the bowels of management, ciphened cryptically through the publicist: "The band will not be talking to Jessica Hopper. Management would prefer someone with a fresh perspective. "

I wonder if they would think my perspective was fresh enough if I had slept with aforementioned manager when he came on to me, years ago, rather than make a "big deal" about it. Maybe my perspective would be to their liking if a long, long time ago (1998!), when the band was another band (a band of true greatness), I had not scared the shit out of both mgmt and label by explaining certain things in the bands contract to them - things they did not understand. Like "recoupable" and "in perpetuity".

Meanwhile: I rest easy at night with the knowledge that my perspectives are fresh to death . Does Alex Ross ever get this kind of hate? Like did Esa Pekka-Salonen ever beef with him over some back stage shit from '93?

I am ready to ride Cuddles into the dusty sunset, my tiny feets dragging behind, middle finger to the sky, cursing this whole wack industry, retiring into a life of leisure as a churro cart operator. Or start a commune for old riot girls who cannot exist out in gen. pop. due to how much beef they have cultivated.

* or if we want to fantasize with class, this man

Posted by Jessica at July 13, 2004 08:03 PM | TrackBack