I am in Seattle, the city, where, once, in August of 1992, I spent two minutes losing my virginity in a basement. The pre-coital eventing: smoking weed, listening to some Bad Brains, viewing Juice for the first time. Famously, I have puked bananas in this city. Less known incidents: DJing the magicist party ever, which crammed 500 into the Eggroom - Phil Sherburne bouncing to ANTE UP, Steve Snere humping all legs available and Frankie Chan pretending like putting his hand on my booty was an accident. The halcyon early nineties where it was all outdoor shows in Olympia and everyone except me doing 'recreational' intrevenous heroin and no one had died yet.
I am here, Seattle. I am here and making new, delightfully boring memories of the city right this instant. Where is that ugly-mazing library of yours that Rem K. designed? I wanna see that shit. Holler at me if you wanna go.
Let's all take the music-snob pledge offered by Chris Weingarten on his blog. Perhaps even print it out and bring it with you to Other Music or Reckless next time yr in there browsing for Rough Guide to Turkish Prison Songs Played On Combs .
The best surprise of this issue of HIOQI came wrapped in the form of Becky Smith, young lady of St Louis who was turning in amazing 750 word narrative reviews detailing what it is like when a record and a song explodes yr life, until her computer blew up. She is like the baby Jesus offspring of me, Britt, J-Shep and Amy Phillips. And she's working retail in a mall and meanwhile, asking Ted Leo to kiss her shoes .
Al and JR are over, we are still making a magazine. One day my prints will come and this wack baby will be on the newsstand. In the meantime, we just lissen to "It's all over now, baby blue" as performed by THEM, needle on chronic repeat, and wonder if anyone ever meant it quite like Van the Man.
PS> If you play the break on John Lennon's "Meat City" (#29 on all time fave songs) off Mind Games on the backward break John is saying "FUCK A PIG". In case you were wondering. We checked.
In honor of the bizerker-traffick Fluxblog gonged down the lamplit cul de sac of Tiny Lucky Blvd, re the movie he hates and I luv, Me You and Everyone We Know , lets further direct elucidation to the daring and magic and reverent world of Miranda July.
Her blog about the movie and it's ensuing success, and all her surrounding fear and hope for it -- some highlights:
- The week before it comes out, her post detailing the work of Sean Techerachi (of Craphound zine) that appears in the film, including the artist info/work summaries that appear next to the museum peices, one of which credits work made with "facepaint, plastic and sunshine" to evangelist ministry couple Creflo and Taffii Dollar.
- The entire entry about finding out she won the Palm D'Or at Cannes, and then, her journey there is moving and funny. She has a bunch of little videos you can watch, but the one where at her hotel, she goes into the safe and out of this little box comes the actual Palm D'or award, which is large, golden and very officially regal - I got choked up. It's this tingley personal moment in the life of someone's art and - is really jarring in it's intimacy.
To see someone, who is coming out of punk, who is coming out of the same proximate DIY community as you and your friends, who was inspired in the same ways by grrrl zines, and seeing their art being honored for being special it funnels and riles my own hope, and is inspiring. Not for the validation of such legit mainstream recognition and the hopes that maybe one day something parallel would exist for me -- but more that art that MEANS SOMETHING came to life, and made it to shore and so maybe that means that one day soon a little-trouble-girl in Couer D'Alene, TX or where ever, she will get, as a gift, a book by Julianne Shepherd about feminism, that her mom picked up on the NEW ARRIVALS table at Barnes and Noble. And that book will mean something to her, and one day when she is grown up and living in Santa Fe, she will take whatever she garnered from J-Shep's book and feel brave enough to make her art about that same feeling and she will feel free unto the world.
I was thinking last night, as I was driving a boy whom I take on dates to see Miranda's movie (litmus: he passed), that I understood, now, my grandma's relationship with IU basketball coach, Bobby Knight. My grandmother is 86, she's got IU team calendars and posters from the early 80's still decorating her laundry room. I understood home team for the first time, really. Punk/DIY feminist art is my hometeam, and we have not had a winning season in some time, so it is a real tickertape event down in my heart.
Also, the Learning to Love You More site which is about getting you to make some art. Roger Ebert when he introduced MJ at the first screening of MYAEWK expressed his wonder at the site, and also showed the audience his completed assignment from it. It was a drawing. I would like to imagine that when he is killing time, avoiding deadline, just like me, Roger Ebert goes on to LTLYM.com and thinks "I could totally do #30 "Take a picture of strangers holding hands"-- I could do that this weekend." and then spends 22 minutes looking at entries about other peoples recent arguments.
We're sorry we spelled it "renigged", not "reneged" yesterday and whatever that may have implied, aside from that I cannot spell - at all.
We're sorry that "rap wifey" read purjoratively, rather than as self-implicating ironic devise.
We're sorry we spent 14 hours in the airport and did not arrive home until 3 am, and that our night was filled with contentious text messaging, copies of Good Housekeeping (Madonna cover) and The Beleiever's terrib-music issue purloined from good friend and former employee, Dave Lewis, also on my flight, also stranded in the Minneapolis airport for animal-baby-length gestation period. Dave Lewis and I are quitting PR and are opening a spa. We saw how to do it on airport CNN.
We are not sorry for spending much of our flight time writing sexually explicit album reviews as super tanned actor George Hamilton that also includes mentions of George Peppard's parrot farm in Cozumel.
Secondly: Thurs & Friday I am in Seattle, and I think I need a place to stay. You: my friend in Seattle, with couch for me to rest my tiny genius head upon.
You heard it all before, the yarn should be familiar at least as the record came out 2 months ago. My review of the Mountain Goats for City Pages, which reads a little clipped and sterile, I do believe. I did not think the story about having to pull over on 94W because I was bawling the first time I heard the lines I quoted from "Hast Thou Considered The Tetrapod?" because of the spontaneousness of the bawling-fit it brought about was adept criticazl testament. The livejournal sentiment of It made me cry, I could not see the road, I felt like my heart stopped and then it broke entirely is irrelevent because I think it's a totally natural reaction, and really, as much as I love it when it's all about me, it is Darnielle's show. I did not care to write that I had driven 405 of the 406 miles of the Minneapolis to Chicago drive, and was 1 exit away from the Division exit (home) and I could not make it because I heard that line and I was mess'd. It stole my breath with "Hoping you don't break my stereo...". Also, was compounded by a confused but well-empowered sadness of knowing that that was the last time I was making that Mnpls-Chi trip for a long while, that my tri-state constant-commuting for the (re)fostering of some well-imagined life, the fantasy had been ceded to black-cat-string'd 'splosions, and no "school" and no "romantic-love" was thereforeto luring me back, and that the role of art-school-attending-rap-wifey was not going past the pilot, and had been written out of the season entirely . So, in that moment, at tremulous intersection of kid-memories splayed and adult-choice bereavement , of heartcracking hot sobs behind the wheel of a 96 Corolla, is not extoled in the review. Instead I try and tell you what the record does, not why it did me in - as casual as I can about a record that killer, about a record of the righteous reclaim of Darnielles vivid-awful, from the tongue in his girl's mouth to the gun in his stepdads. PS> Please buy the record if you have not already.
Now we go to the airport, and now we fly home, we lay over in Minneapolis and we hold steady against all we know about that twin'd city, and it's claims staked and claims reneged upon, til pre-boarding.
Brooklyn, summer edition, was small and manageable this time through. I did not see half the folks I was intending too, did not meet Luke the new baby with long fingers I meant to meet, did walk in Prospect Park four times, did sleep on Julianne's couch that is about the size of a necco wafer, did not sleep nearly enough, did see Stars, Sadies and maybe New Pornagraphers in the park, did not actually pay attention well enough to know if they were decent, did wade through the throngs of post-Pride-parade-rs and watched glimmery hot latina babydykes wap each other in the azz with rainbow flags, did talk madd shit loudly at Kate's regardless of seating proximity to LSEhypsterz and Dave Pajo, did not care who heard me, did miss Hold Steady opening Get Up kids last show in NJ, did see all of Sleater Kinney walking down the street, did see a lady have an intimate all tongue exchange with her teacup chiuaua, did gag from the smell of rotting, cooking trash stench juicing and metamorphising in curbside mountains. Did it all.
I am in Brooklyn, against all odds, against the connective wills of Buddha, Allah, Jesus and Phil Collins, I have arrived, I have landed, I am sitting in the apartment of my girl-souljah#1, cowboy-poodler = Ill Shepdini. J Shep who, despite being in the shower right now, is laughing loudly, in fits, like Dave Chapelle is perched on the toilet monolguing to her while she rinses out her shampoo.*
Everything broke in the last 2 days: I feel like I should just get business cards made up that say "Sisyphus". It all involves 11 extra magazine pages, the two most bogglingly-thorough TSA security wandings of my crotch ever, Miles' laptop with layout on it that will not boot up, almost crying in exasperation at the Northwest ticket counter at O'hare at 8am, a new hatred for Tony Hawk that is extreme enough that I threw his McDonalds billboard the finger on the BQE and gagging on my own vomit in the cab.
If yr around, or if yr going: We're going to New Pornagraphers et Stars in zeee park, then to see Bella Lea at North Six.
(* she was laughing at the free sample of Alan Cumming's new cologne-scenet and bodywash, which he roomate got and put in the shower. The bottle reads: "Cumming: The Fragrance".)
Julianne said it first, but I copy her steez all the time, so PETER MACIA, of Peter Macia "can I attach yr genius, surgically, to my face, pleeze I love yr writing so much" fame has a blog , a blog which book reports on the bell hook's book I dun recommended three days ago on this here blog. Our world is an infinite e-ring of smallness and friendcession. Other hobbies include: running through the sprinkler and stealing gluesticks.
Because the magazine is not finished and the pages are not furnished, the Scavenger Hunt is off for tomorrow, and will be rescheduled for August likely. When it is hot and yr skin is like a slip n' slide.
Do you have the new Feadz " Forward 4" 12"? Do you have any idea whether it is a 33 1/3 or a 45 rpm album? I do not know if the problem lies in that Feadz switches the shit up and it's like schuffel- jackin with acid 303 squeals, magic and tracky at 120 and then it's like helllloud 909 hat-chings over some chopped and screwed molasses and the other side is like, Ellen Allien on the Paris Metro combin her hair style demure with these Detroit-y "lets fuck!" samples. 33 the subbass sounds like Jesus' shit, 45 sounds like Jeff Mills' last cocaine seizure. Either way, you should let me DJ your birthday party, I'll play it for you and people will grind on you, and you will think it's the best birthday you have ever had, at least until you wake up the next day.
4. MIRANDA JULY'S MOVIE ME YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW OPENS TODAY. REMEMBER IN MARCH WHEN I BLOGGED TO YOU "best movie ever!" when it premiered at the women's film festival and you thought I was high on hyperbole? Shit won at Cannes, dog. You gotta listen to me, and Roger Ebert and ignore the thing on the poster that says "This Year's Sideways ", because if it was "This Year's Sideways", it'd be Swingers II: Vince Vaughn Eats A Vaganwich* , but instead, it's Miranda July and she's on the cover of our fucking magazine and you should buy two tickets to see her movie because it will make you cry a little when John Hawkes' character is putting the bird painting in the bushes and Miranda touches his hand.
* see Vocabulon in the next HIOQI, courtesy Cali.
Per, J-Shep's request on her blog, and because I am in this weird stasis of magazine creation, where I am like really close to crying when I look at the wall and how many pages are tacked up and finished versus how many to go, and i already stalled and went swimming in my Italy bikini and paddled around in an above ground that had not enough chlorine and voracious dog hair in it, and I just kind of stare at the wall and go "You have been making this magazine since fucking ninth grade. This shit is in yr DNA. Do it." and then I wonder why it's so fucking hard now, and then I tell myself to can the whole Jesus at Gethsemane (sp?) routine and keep grinding.
But Julianne, she asks to blog about the last time you threw a punch . Last time I tried to fight someone, it was this man yes, the one in the underpants and I was eighteen or nineteen and I loved him so fucking much, and he was such a motherfucking bastard that I used to calm myself down to sleep at night by imagining that if he ever actually came home for once, beating him with a hammer. Sometimes alternated with the thought of (get this) throwing him down a well, and letting him die slowly, and I could taunt him from the well top. I told him this recently and we laughed about it. Anyhow, one day, we were going to go help his parents move, and he had not been home in days, he had been staying at one of his other girlfriends houses, and he just sauntered home, was real casual and real high... and I was outside, waiting against the car, as furious as I had ever been, and something snapped and I started screaming and kicking the car, and then I ran in the house, found him, threw a punch at his head, did not connect so hard but did get him. He grabbed my arms and started laughing at me, so I started spitting in his face and calling him a cocksucker and kicking him. He laughed at me the most awful, nice try laugh. It was humiliating because all I wanted was to knock out a fucking tooth. I wanted him to go toothless back to his other girlfriends.
The last time I punched someone not amidst a teen domestic brawl, was in the parking lot of the More Than Music fest. Some friend of Sean Agnew's -- it was an accident (really) and I made his nose skeet blood but I did not break it. I had started training to box, and had been practicing sparring with my dad and my trainer, Lloy, and so there was something really gratifying about bare knuckled, just popping someone in the face... and it worked. The punch did what punches are s'posed to do. That said, I felt horrible about it. Really. Actually...That's a lie. I felt only moderately bad about it.
I'm not sweating that both these stories make me sound like I'm heavy into battery, so I will say, now, hey people of NYC and associate boroughs, I am in town this weekend! I am staying with J Shep, we will be dancing on Saturday, even if you are a stranger (unless we hate you already), maybe you come dance too. Either way - I will not hit you, I promise.
Dear Greg Sage,
Why is the Wipers logo so bad? I am listening to Is it Real? and doing 80 in the Toyota and feeling like my universe will explode with every snare crack of "Tragedy", every day, still, and I wonder - are you old and crazy now? When you made this record did you know it was the best punk record ever made? When you made your logo, did you know that that peace sign would be madd dated by 1984, let alone 2005, thusly preventing me from being able to get it tattoo'd on my forearm? I guess it was all about context and Reaganomics. I used to have a picture of you, a promo picture for yr record from 1990, it was taped up in my bathroom when I was in high school. I looked at it every day when I was getting ready to go to school, or when I was defrosting my window with a hairdryer so that I could get it open to surrepticiously smoke out it. I got a vinyl copy of Over the Edge for $4 on Braineater, used at Oarfolk, when I was 16 and wound up buying all yr bad solo records - I just wanted more "Romeo" or "D-7", and Sub Pop had not reissued yr shit yet, and so I bought those solo albums and they were not so awesome, so I just listened to a lot of Hole, which was pretty much the same thing. What are you up to these days? Are you shy? Are you busy? Are you bitter you never got yr due like all the other old punks? Do you want to come ton Chicago and help me learn all yr songs for my Wipers cover band? Why do you always wear that bandana? Is it because yr hair looks like a tumbleweed? Do you ever imagine that 16 year old Minnesota girls looked at your picture while brushing their teeth every morning for years, wondering what you were doing and dreaming of writing a song as good as "Return of the Rat"?
Write back. I gotta know.
The best gift I can give, and the only blog post/link I can conjur that does not have to do with Miles and I spending 12 hours today laying out the new issue and listening to The Best of The Gap Band is a link to the blog of Mark Anthony Neale . Julianne and I saw him on a panel at the hip hop and feminism conference and I kept grabbing and poking her everytime he commented, frontal lobes stunned, capable only of utterly "Dude. Oh my god. I love him." sotto voce, and Julianne would go "Dude. I know. I know. Amazing." in between wiping away our tears of inspiration, or the tears you get when you hear someone speak your truth and speak it with vigilant hope and no bullshit.
Also, while we are at it, since it has been a good 3-4 months since I last insisted you read it, and a couple dudes recently emailed asking to me recommend some starter books on feminism: The Will to Change by bell hooks . The descrip on the Powells page makes it sound strangely self-helpy, but it is really about, to me, the way the patriarchy oppresses men, and in turn how that impacts everyone else, and about a feminist liberation for men, and liberation through "a love ethic". It's like the prequel Common's Be . Also, it's a much more satisfying read than Susan Faludi's Stiffed , which is also about how the patriarchy is effing every man ever born. Dude on dude gender oppresion is real, just crack an ish of Details if you doubt it. I want every dude I know/resent/love to be free. I want them to read this book and get to know the realness and the love that feminism has for them.
It makes me sad, but at least you could afford to buy 16 or 30 copies to give as gifts, but Andrea Dworkin's autobiography is available used for $1.96 on Amazon . It is sad, intense like holding yr breath underwater and inspiring. She was a girlsoldier like no other. For $4.00, you can get Pornography which reads like she wrote it in her own blood, it's got such force behind it. You will never feel the same way about jacking to Backdoor Sluts Gone Nuts #12 again, and is incredibly compelling no matter where you stand on puerno .
Also, available for a mere .95¢, is Naomi Wolf's Promiscuities: A Secret History of Female Desire which is more auto-biog. that her other work, but personal narrative is always a good place to start from.
And lastly, the book that cemented my feminism like no other, and was as intregral in my radicalization as Bikini Kill fanzine #2: Susan Faludi's Backlash, with six copies used readily availble for the totally fuck-you-Filene's price of ONE SINGLE PENNY through Amazon.
Think about it: For $11.96 you could buy an entire feminist-essentials library - an entire summer's worth of reading -- and have it shipped to yr casa in three business days.
I am taking a 15 second time out from editing photos for the HIOQI "Jason Mraz vs. John Mayer" point/counter point that Teeter and SB did to tell you two or three things:
1. The Al Burian/ J Hova summer reading tour is 1007% confirmed. Thanks to everyone that helped out. I have never booked a tour before, so, to quote Bratmobile, this is a Total P.R.D.C.T (punk rock dream come true). All shows are all ages save for 7/14.
July 14th: CHICAGO IL -- Rock N' Read Benefit @ The Empty Bottle $10/21+ w/ Functional Black outs, Al & I read at 11:15, free banana with paid admission
July 16th: Pittsburgh, PA @ ModernFormations Gallery (4919 Penn Ave) 7:30 pm $3-5
July 17th: Philly, PA @ Mollys Books
July 18th: NYC, NY - Bluestockings Radical Books , 172 Allen , 7 pm.
July 19th: Providence, RI @ Dirt Palace w/ Julianne Shepherd (early)
July 20th: Easthampton, MA - Flywheel Community Arts - 8 pm (2 Holyoke St)
w/ Julianne Shepherd and Sara Jaffe
July 21st: DC @ Infoshop - 7pm
July 22nd: Baltimore, MD @ Charm City Arts Space - 8 pm
JUly 24th: Chapel Hill, NC @ Co-Op House
July 25th: Louisville, KY @ BRICK Community Center
2. I think Jason Mraz had all his facial moles burned off. They are missing. I wonder if he always wanted to do that, and it was a matter of having the money, or if he thought it would help his career.
3. Miles presents this evidence that John Mayer is getting full face collagen injections.
Miles was acting cocky and funny last night when I brought him how from our unwatched-by-millions reality show Hit it or Quit it: America's Only Feminist Music Magazine (inclusive of hip hop and men) ... then it happened.
text message 9:23 am:
FUCK SOME RETAIL. LET'S MAKE A MAGAZINE!
I called, it's been confirmed.. the expal-nation I got was "I got up to go buy cat litter before I had to go to work and I was like... fuck work. So, I quit." Miles: welcome to freedom from the last 18 months spent working in the H&M Misses department, and congratulations on entering the sketchy world of making a living freelancing about shopping and DJing at yuppie bars.
Miles is on the floor, laying out this story that Billy Danze of M.O.P told to Partymanica (fka Crullermanica) about breaking some kids gun apart. And he says: "Making the magazine...It's like Apocolypse Now, with the finished magazine standing in for Colonel Kurtz. We're still at the part where we are going up river, shit is kind of binoculars, but we have not lost our minds yet." I know we're getting pretty fucking close, as Miles got mad at me for insulting his cigarette brand and he's calling me by my Christian name - " Yo, Dirty Bitch" - exclusively.
DC, Providence, Chapel Hill dates of reading tour are finalized with venues. Louisville TBC at Brick. Julianne Escobedo Shepherd opens select New England dates with a dance+reading performance, and Sara Jaffe, of travelzine and Erase Errata fame opens in Northhampton. Also, I found out, excitingly that at the Rock N Read benefit show (Chicago July 14), everyone gets a FREE BANANA w/ admission. $10 gets you a zine, a banana, me and AL, 2 bands I have never heard of and the GREAT band Functional Blackouts.
"Free banana with admission" is an idea whose time has come.
Here is a great picture, which is what you get when you are trying to Google "M.O.P". That lady is the fucking definition of 'ante up'.
Greetings from the Hit it or Quit it offices. We moved out of my house and into a snow topped Chalet/Abandoned Mill in the jungle. Making the magazine is going well or great. I think it might be the best issue of the best magazine ever. If the four checks we are waiting on actually show up, well, the thing will come out, maybe, even.
Meanwhile, yesterday was an adventure. Monkee, the feline who lives here, she brought us a present:
But as we have no room in the inn for a slightly bloddied and very panicky baby bird with no wings grown in yet and no fur to cover it's neon heart that you can see beating through it's rice paper skin, Miles and I took a break from editing the reviews section to make a quick trip to Animal Control, where we promptly regifted Baby Bird to the county.
Also, Chicago, if you are in town, tonight, roll to FREE NIGHT at the Empty Bottle, as KILL THE VULTURES (fka OddJobs) are headlining.
You heard J SHEP , email her your slang for vocabulon for this new issue of HIOQI ' sap.
In the living room is JR screeding on freejazz records, Miles is laying out reviews of records that do not exist and I'm transcribing Miranda July's girl riot Q&A, while Trina quieries us from the iPod mini stereo "Do you waahhnnnt me?!". I'm trying to make you the best magazine ever, I'm trying to infiltrate the Barnes and Noble "womens interest" newstand section with some disruption shit to offer up some alterna to the patriarchal jizz industry aka BRIDE MAGAZINE.
1. Anyone got as picture of Thursday/Geoff Rickley that they want to give me, for free, for publication?
2. There is not a single reason, why you, me, and the 13 people who want to connect young ladies and boy-guys (Warped attendees, 'specially) with radical liberation -- there is no reason that we should not be mimeographing manifestos and distro-ing them at Warped or infiltrating bathroom lines at Senses fail shows. Renegade propaganda is potent and hot-to-death. Dude, imagine being 14 or 17 and meeting YOU at a show, and getting some dope 3 page manifesto that was pure fire?! All teenagers want is more things to be angry and opinionated about, if memory serves. I think it's all about "No, rape is your problem, dog" pamphlets for teen dudes. That is my wild suggestion for bringing the motherfucking revolution this week, k?
3. The Hit it or Quit it layout process does not begn til Miles gets off work tomorrow, so if yr all 'Totes did not finish my HIOQI submission in time" - if J Shep or I get it by middle of the day tomorrow, you got a shot. Stop the self judgement, and let us decide -- just send it!
4. Oh my god, I love you. Person reading this, I totes adore you. Making a magazine makes me juiced about the whole world. This morning, Monkee, my kitty, she waltzed through the house with this flappy little bird in her mouf, just casj - like she was not showing off, and I really feel like thats us . We're flossing to the world: check out our skillz, check out this chirpy half dead bird in our mouth.
Making a magazine in four days is something I have not attempted since, well, like 12th grade, but I think so far we're off to a good start:
1. Miles and I found a full pack of smokes on the porch, mysteriously.
2. Laurent from Tusk/Pelican came over for a dinterview and talked about the how bummed his is about how being PC is now so unfashionable, because he cannot hang with people saying "faggot" like it's no big deal.
3. We made a graph, rather than reviewing 14 records. The scales are Breastfeeding/Pavement/an airborne seagull/Don Henley and then plotted each album with the axis. You do not want to know where John Vanderslice landed.
4. We have just learned that we all know all the words to B-52s Cosmic Thing 14 yrs after the fact, and that it's just as good of an album as it was in 6th grade.
5. The review that just came in that insists that the Low in Europe DVD has the same plot as Goonies .
It's not as if I ever, ever, ever want to go to Warped tour again, and it is not as if I expect any sort of great ideas/ideals to sprout from the Lyman-et al marketing brain trust in regards to appealing to women when there is a 20 foot tall "inflatable playzone" in the form a "punk" "woman" ( that looks like most of the girls at the fucking event) that has "music video slut" writ large in fake tattoo on her -- but this self-ghettoizing bullshit is just that -- bullshit. It is not feminist nor is it revolutionary to cosign on being in a vaginas only tent, to play "special" guitars made for the fairer sex (they are lighter, smaller, pink/flowered) -- it's a fucking guitar - Not a tampon!! (I am an adult woman the size of a child, with tiny-azz fingers and I play a fullsize Fender Jaguar with no problem - wtf!?! ) SECONDLY -- when is there going to be a special tent for boys where they can get pamplets on NOT RAPING PEOPLE -- rather than putting the after the fact onus on the 13 year old girls at Warped to see NOFX. Where is the mandatory cop-staffed tent with the educational rap-video about statuatory rape and consent laws and even-if-she's-your-girlfriend, replete with testimonials from jail.
Because, when it gets down to it,The Sugar Hooker tent offers about as much revolution as the Slim Jims™ tent, even if they are reprinting Bikini Kill manifestos -- inspite of it's free guitar lessons -- by segregating women and girls onto into their hot pink pussy tent --- rather than explemplifying FEMINISM, it is marketing - SELLING - a concept of "GIRLS KICK ASS! PS. Here is your free pink SUGAR HOOKER sweatband, some tampons in the shape of a guitar and a pamphlet on where to call if you get raped! THANKS! DON'T FORGET TO SIGN UP FOR THE MAILING LIST".
Subject: S.H.E.'S WARPED - new Warped Tour brand launch
From: Ilka at Fly PR
For Immediate Release
S.H.E.’S WARPED PRESENTED BY
SUGAR HOOKER ENTERTAINMENT (S.H.E.)
ENDORSED BY WARPED TOUR’S KEVIN LYMAN
Sponsors Include SG Magazine and Daisy Rock Guitar
S.H.E.’s Warped Program Active On All Tour Stops
Jerra Plays Shiragirl Stage On Selected Dates
Los Angeles, CA – Sugar Hooker Entertainment (S.H.E.) announces the S.H.E.’s
Warped program to launch for Warped Tour 2005. The label’s priority act,
Jerra, will perform on the ShiraGirl Stage for selected dates. The band is
touring in support of their new full-length album titled Play Like A Girl.
S.H.E.’s Warped is a new program being launched by Sugar Hooker
Entertainment (S.H.E.) on Warped Tour 2005. It is wholly endorsed by Warped
Tour founder Kevin Lyman who enthuses "The Warped Tour has always been about
bringing new, exciting music and lifestyle brands to kids around the
country, and we're excited to have Sugar Hooker Entertainment joining us
this summer. Girls are here to stay on the Warped Tour!"
The S.H.E.’s Warped manifesto advocates providing a cool, fun place where
girls and guys can exchange ideas about pro-grrl music, art, lifestyles,
politics, trends. Sugar Hooker Entertainment will provide a place where
concert goers can pick-up exciting give-away items and information on a
variety of grrl-powered topics.
24-year old S.H.E. founder Jerra Spence is thrilled about the pro-grrl
message S.H.E.’s Warped will unveil this year. “We are bringing together
girl-culture companies like SG Magazine and Daisy Rock Guitar” Spence
explains. “Plus we are introducing female cult artist Fawn Gehweiler. We
are grrl-powered DIY Clothing! Music! Revolution!”
At the heart of the program stands the S.H.E.’s Warped tent designed by
Spence and visual artist Fawn Gehweiler. Gehweiler has been hailed by The
Face magazine as "the visual equivalent of candy floss peppered with broken
glass - delicious yet dangerous.” S.H.E.’s Warped tent sponsors include the
grrl-oriented sports and lifestyle publication SG Magazine and Daisy Rock
Daisy Rock founder Tish Ciravolo comments "Sugar Hooker Entertainment
(S.H.E.) is all about girl rockers, and as the only true girl guitar
company, Daisy Rock is proud to support Jerra and Sugar Hooker Entertainment
(S.H.E.) on this summer's Warped Tour. Their presence will help inspire
thousands of female musicians around the country to rock!" Daisy Rock is
sponsoring Warped Tour bands including Jerra (S.H.E.), Inspect Her Gadget
(MyShorts Records), The Shocker (with Jennifer Finch of L7) and The Randies.
Visitors will have the chance to enter to win a free Daisy Rock guitar. In
conjunction S.H.E.’s Warped is offering free guitar lessons at the tent
SG Magazine will be giving away free copies of their summer issue at the
S.H.E.’s Warped Tent. S.H.E. and SG support girls who surf, skate and
snowboard and are giving away free subscriptions to the publication as well
as hosting a free-to-enter raffle all summer long. “Girls who like rock
music relate to girls who board” Jerra points out. “We’re the same
community, the same tribe, doing what we love to do!”
SG Magazine and Daisy Rock Guitars will both be actively promoting the
S.H.E.’s Warped program online, in print and in-person at Warped Tour.
Visit their websites for updates, photos and more information at
www.sgmag.com and www.daisyrock.com.
Merchandise specifically designed for the S.H.E.’S Warped program includes
music, limited edition posters by Fawn Gewheiler designed for S.H.E. and a
line of S.H.E.’S Warped 2005 items including posters, tote bags, tee shirts,
pins and stickers.
The S.H.E.’s Warped all-grrl gang will be in full force this summer. S.H.E.
is calling on girls all over the country to step-up, show solidarity and
create a community of strong females doing what they love to do and
supporting each other in the process. The team will flyer the grounds as
well as distributing the official S.H.E.’s Warped Tour 2005 fanzine. The
fanzine will include Kathleen Hanna's Riot Girl Revolution, Jerra and the
band The Shocker’s notes on DIY ethics, a coloring book by Fawn Gehweiler,
articles, helpful ‘concert/festival-goer’ info, phone numbers for national
organizations including suicide hotlines, date rape information and fun
quotes by bands present on the tour.
Fans can also keep up with Jerra on her own personal Blog hosted by ELLEgirl
Magazine’s website, www.ELLEgirl.com. This is the magazine’s first foray
into the world of blogging on their highly trafficked website. The site
currently enjoys 3.8 million page views per month and 500,000 visitor
Jerra’s album, Play Like A Girl, is the first release on Sugar Hooker
Entertainment. The first track on the record, titled "Don't Trust" can be
heard in the surf film, The Kill Seven, which features surf superstars Kelly
Slater, Tom Curren and other surf celebs. “The Others” can be heard on
Surfer Magazine’s clip of the Pipeline Pro Masters 2005. And MTV recently
licensed tracks from the album to be used on the hit shows Road Rules, Real
World, and RW/RR Challenge. One of the most applauded Clear Channel radio
stations in the country, Indie 103.1, has been spinning the track “The
Others.” Jerra will perform on the ShiraGirl Stage on Warped Tour in San
Diego, Ventura, Boise, Seattle and Portland.
Sugar Hooker Entertainment is an independently owned and operated record
label and lifestyle company based in Los Angeles, CA. Visit them online at
We were sitting at dinner, (it was desert for me), and I was starring out the window and I call the attention of Matt and JR (who, for some reason, asked me to refer to them as rap-duo "Snowjob and Blo-cone" if they show up on my blog?!) and I say "Is that him?" and JR concurs. It totes is. I say "OMG, I love him. I am so totally totes in love with him." I sigh a little. I pay the check in a hurry and get out the door, because, for some reason, dude is just pacing outside the resturant, smoking. Snowjob and Blo-cone go to head across the street to the car and I stop them "Can we stand here and have a cigarette for a minute, please?" " You can smoke in the car," says Snowjob. "No, I want to smoke here, so I can stare at him some more because I love him." I say. "I love him too," Blo-cone says in solidarity. Snowjob rolls his eyes -- I hop up and take a seat on the bike rack, turn my head towards my crush and smile, hard. He is leaning against the other bike rack, chewing on some small euro-cigar, looking like a sailor, staring up at the night sky. I turn back to Snowjob "I know he's like 70, but he made me under stand freejazz , and when I saw him at the Flyswatter exhibit, I wept, okay?" I turn back towards my crush and smile again. I want him to know. I want my gaze to spell out thank you, so he knows. He smiled back. I am elated. Peter Brötzmann got my psychic fax - our love is real.
(PS: Tonght at the Empty Bottle , $15 gets you into the Ninth Annual Jazz and Imporivised Music Fest featuring: The Brötzmann / Waits Duo with Peter Brötzmann,Nasheet Waits The Williams / Baker / Daisy Trio with Jim Baker,Tim Daisy,Davey Williams The Rempis Percussion Ensemble plus a special 'surprise' set)
A Christian parenting website reviews Lords of Dogtown , counts the swearing and taking of the Lord's name in vain, though does highlight spots of Christian appropriate redemption in the otherwise morally unredeemable life of a young Jay Adams. The highlight: "While the picture of the skateboard culture may be accurate, it’s unfortunate they didn’t attempt to help those who felt alienated and depressed. The film portrayed many in this society as neglected. If they could only see that God Himself wants to be the father, the mother or the friend they are missing. That kind of hope would help produce the greatest skateboarders the world has ever known." I fucking love Christians, dude. I so want to beleive this, that me being able to skate well vs. skate totes marginal (barely can ollie, running into inanimate objects) is a matter of allegiance to God -- I would have started going to church years earlier.
(Al Burian c. last week, in his back yard, the humidity punkifying his hair)
quick snips furr you:
1. If you got any sway or hook up for the BRICK Community Center in Louisville, or want to start a petition drive about it, Al and I need all ages in Louisville July 25th.
2. If you write, or planned to write for Hit it or Quit it, if you do not have your copy, your reviews, your photos, yr slangatorials in by FRiday end of business or so, shit is not getting in. That said - if anyone has stuff they want to throw our way last minute (reviews that got cut from other mags, blog posts that were too mean to post, a 41 word review of the Cage album, a freestyled essay-list about the best songs about divorce, or an open letter to Thurston Moore) -- if you get it in by the end of the week, and it's funny or interesting or just "fun to read" - chances are it's getting in. Think about it. Think about the good company you would be in. Sean Fennessy of the greezy-good Hardly Art blog/music editor at STUFF, he did a review of Minutemen's Double Nickels , reviewed some tape of Juelz Santana rapping about irish spring in the shower, and an essay about Ya Kid K . He is a busy busy man, but he made time for us, because he, too, shares our vision and like Sammy D said "Yes, I can"... (Also, if there is something you own copy-rights to, that you wrote that's real spectacular, we'll take that too. Word attachments are preferred, body of an email if you do not have word.)
I hope all my hope and half plans get hells right and tight for the mini beast that is the dinosaur'd grave of dun Hit it or Quit it magazine. Julianne in the edit hot seat, me, the ungentle mini going gangbusters on phoners for the suckers that did not show, and then we got folks like Amy Phillips, Phillip "not Phil" Sherburne, JR, Chris Ryan, Adam Gnade, Joan Hiller, Mia Clark, Chris Richards, Miles Raymer, Shayla, Sara Sherr, Keith Harris, Britt Barton Lindsay, Teeter and SB, Tomas Palermo, and Mato's 10,000 word interview with Craig Finn, and Trevor Kelly's exclusive interview with Geoff Rickley from Thursday where Geoff discusses Orientalism, feminism, nu-emo, and comes out as bisexual and a good half dozen more. Tonight I saw Al Burian at the xerox emporium, slaving away on a 5 page memorandom/layout of an article he did about Carolina hardcore - which excludes information about/includes the picture of the Corrosion of Conformity album which features a 15 y.o. Burian IN THE PIT on the cover, front a center. The new issue should paralyze you with loving stimulation and "more" -- and so, inspired by J Sheps link to Chris Ryan's first "real" review ever -- some highlights from issues past, some of my personal faves:
Mark Donahue's I was a teenage Antioch Arrow cover band , which is the only pc on San Diego spaz core that also refs SJ Perelman and olympic divers.
Teeter & I co-conduct Q and Not U's first-ever interview and re-reading this, it is kind of mind breaking that they even still were friends with us after. Also, watch for the coining of the phrase "emotainment".
JR Nelson's essay-devotional on Lester Bangs and building a catherdral in your heart for your heroes to live in. JR, via ebay and public library microfiche, has copies of nearly everything Bangs ever wrote. The following paragraph is one of my favorites we have ever printed:
" The search for truth is a stupid mission to tie up with writing about rock music. Rock is all about lies and illusions; and to an extent it has to be in order to set our emotions free. Manufactured poses, distorted intentions, a million basement dreams brought kicking and screaming to life, lots of sex, money and hoochie to tempt away talent and piss-poor role models trying to walk the thin road with any earnestness. I think that a lot of the people we write about (and for) in this magazine want to cut through all the numbing bullshit that fucks up the world. We just have to be careful where we look. I am often guilty of extreme and ugly hero worship, just like Lester. Some people are equipped to deal with the world, to confront it with some inner reserve the rest of us lack. Others of us are chipped at by everything until there is nothing left. You can be a shell, or you can be a corpse or you can even be an icon, but you are still gone. Something has swallowed you. I need strong people around me because I clam up, am afraid of my feelings. The taste of life is just too rich sometimes, like cake icing. Either I project my desires on somebody else or hide out; behind words or sentences or other people's records or fashion or whatever else I can brew up to defend myself with in the battle versus death or boredom or growing up or whatever lies at the end of this life. Faith is a terrible risk in this digital, ironic age and a record collection is often a paltry cathedral."
The Price of Hardcore my then-neighbor/financial analyst/ frontman of the just startng out Lifter Puller - Craig Finn -- determines the relative value of 88 straight edge hardcore.
A pre-Har Mar/ one year out of highschool Sean Tillmann demanding the world give props to Rainer Maria's first record, for saving emo . Dude. The nineties!
Everyone's an asshole: The Hopper vs. Albini email fued & handy Abini-teasing timeline . This came out about a month after I moved to Chicago, eight years ago, and Shellac was the cover story on the special "Chicago" issue. Confusion, hearsay and speculative mis-atrribution on the Britt Barton Lindsay-penned lyrics to International House of Pussy's "Dead Albini Storage" gave birth to a rumour I still occasionally hear - that I threatened to kill Steve Albini. -- and which may have contributed to the fact that we sold out of 2000 copies of the magazine in three days.
JR's review of Sam Prekop which was the first thing I think he wrote for HIOQI, and is also notable (to me) because I remember going back and forth with JR about whether to edit a sentence that contained a RILL sharp Thrill Jockey directed comment and the phrase "cum on a cracker".
(Maybe) more later.
Today my summer almost drastically changed, and for several hours it looked as if I was going accept a job offer as merch girl on a friend's tour, starting today. I normally do not work for anyone but myself, but it's June and the bus has air conditioning and the per diem wasn;t bad, so I was all "fuggggit"...But some logistics thwarted the hatched-plan, aka Allah has willed it that I am not to spend the next few weeks aboard their gleeming tour bus, which is named The Ebony II, and has light wood floors, overstuffed leather couches and embroidered lighthouse n' shell throw pillows (salacious beachfront condo decor is way Steely Dan).
It has been pert near a year since I went on tour, fuh rill fuh rill. The desire to bail (which Challenger tour 04 first conjured) -- the mustbailmustbailmustbail now lingers permanent, like an errant cell burrowed deep, occasionally popping up, reanimating & gliding through the system, wide awake and infecting. Some people like to tour because they can be off the leash of real-life duty, or go off their moral hinges and that 80% of the people you encounter in your tour day, their job is either to tend to you or accomodate you or be your dutiful audience. I gave up hedonism in the 80's, practically, so that's not what it is for me. I think it's just that, even when I was touring as someone's sidepeice, touring as a tag along, touring as a merch helper, touring as Rumplestiltskin on bass -- I felt free in a way that felt equalized. It is hard to give it a real name, but I got to be a free in a way that girls are not afforded, experientially. A lot of people have written about women's liberation through travel, through knowing the world -- ,and that is almost it, but a bit too... Victorian ladies on a cruise ship.
The the road has been so codfied as the domain of dudedom, in books and movies and every record I own from Bob Seger to Chrimpshrine, it is the place of relief and discovery and come-true'd fever dreams and adventure and is the place where the true living is done . In the books and movies and songs where girls and women do this, if they are good, they die from their adventure, if they are bad, they get fucked and die in the end. They are usually white trash truck stop waitresses, or whores, or like - single moms and teen sluts who have had enough of the bad life and get killed by their own curiousity. They tryst with macho domain, and they wind up going off a cliff or in a ditch or their sternum crushed against the steering wheel.
Touring when and how I did, even in it's stasisized moments, during the most sweltering and belitting and most boring dividing line hynotized fuck this moments in vans and busses, I still relished being free and getting in on some me-too actualization. I was able to stop buying everything I had ever been sold - by every bit of counterculture iconography -- Two Lane BlackTop or the fact that there is not a single woman with a speaking part in that precious Kerouac biblio On The Road -- and steal the orbit. So, the month plus wait til the reading tour is touch purgatorial.
Back to Chicago tomorrow. Tonight, I took my mom to the show, as a "share my world" style outting, and also as my friends wanted to meet the lady who made me. After their introduction, they are engaging in some typical har-har niceties, my mom, as usual, says "Even though she's rotten, I still love her" and my friend says "Oh, we love her too, even though she keeps insisting she has no use for our love" and my mother, right then, instantly reminded me where I got my knack for embarrassing people with casual, oblivious aplumb, says "Nope, she doesn't, though if you have chaos and dysfunction, she'll totally take those." I felt a deep, seventh grade style embarrassment, I was like "Mom,where are you getting this information - are you reading my therapists blog!?" -- I forget, my mjom, she is such a "cool mom" that I sometimes want to show her off, but I completely blank, she is just like... a blonde, mouthier version of me and thusly, she the OG little trouble girl and should be contained at all times.
ALSO, in sweet news: The Al Burian & Me Reading Tour has new confirms: Eff You Clevo and yr non-commitment: Pittsburgh is where we are at July 16th, reading with some Heartattack columnists, for some real punx-on-punx lit-bang. THEN - Philly, R5 says we're reading at Molly's - the bookstore - July 17th. Single moms and fem-crusties and Dan Yemin - yelp back.
If you are in Chicago, tonight, hit the Dax benefit if you can -- $10 gets you David Cross and Death From Above 1979, courtesy Biz3, at Sonoteque, which is just east of Ashland on Chicago. If you cannot get in ( totes likely), hit the Empty Bottle for Electralane.
Also, a bunch of closing-of-Buddy events at Buddy and sound like they will prove to be classic oh-shit-the-floor-might-collapse mayhem . Though, two weekends ago, I went to check the shit out, and got there too early and it was 4 people having a ballon fight & someone telling jokes over SupaDupaFly while an audience of two watched attentively from a big white leather couch. Then , suddenly, Rotten Milk, the young man to the left in this photo, crawled through a small hole in the wall and said "hey, I think this is yours" and gave me my Walkmen record I left behind while DJing 3 months ago.
Lastly, If you are hitting the Spoon show in Mnpls Sunday - hey! so am I - holler.
Please note, to yr right, a handy link to click for updates about the reading tour. Just confirmed: Baltimore and Amherst/Easthampton. Providence and Louisville nearing locked down. All shows are all ages, so please bring your babies. We are also looking for "openers" in Baltimore & Louisville for sure - and . If you do a puppet show, an educational slide show or maybe you are the kid in Lou with the viola-duo with yr girlfriend, get at me.
During the writing of these 900 words , I got stuck at 383 words for an eternity and was convinced that my hopes of being a "legit" writer type were serious, bible epic fantasy and what I was really going to be doing was cleaning soft serve yogurt machines on a closing shift at a TCBY. Special props to my editor-man in MN, Dylan Hicks, for helping me untangle.
6.22 update, mon ami.
Updates and "confirms, motherfucker!" on the Al Burian / Jessica Hopper East Coast Summer Reading Jaunt 2005 Bonanza, now with more Chicago added.
Total mersh: Al's new mini-zine and comic, entitled Utopia , about Chicago's trains came out this week and will be available along with his comic anothology and Burn Collector zines and books, I will have a new Hit it or Quit it available on the tour, as well as back issues, and if Al gets my "file" out of his storage space -- my comic will likely be finished. By the end of the weekend, I will post a link to a pdf for the tour poster - so if you want to help promote the "show", make some handbills or just tongue the picture of Al a bit, you can. PS> I have never booked a tour before, and all the help people have given so far has made this start to actually come together, which has re-affirmed a sense of DIY/punk community and so is duly appreciated. Plus, the amount of cities where we have been offered a vegan meal, couch space and to accomodate us with a back yard to read in with a puppet-show opening act - outnumbers the cities where we are going 2 to 1.
July 14th: CHICAGO IL - BANANA KING ZINE presents Rock N' Read @ The Empty Bottle $10/21 w/ Functional Black outs, Al & I read at 11:15
July 16th: Pittsburgh, PA @ ModernFormations Gallery (4919 Penn Ave) 7:30 pm $3-5
July 17th: Philly, PA @ Mollys Books
July 18th: NYC, NY - Bluestockings Radical Books , 172 Allen , 7 pm.
July 19th: Providence, RI @ Dirt Palace w/ Julianne Shepherd (early)
July 20th: Easthampton, MA - Flywheel Community Arts - 8 pm (2 Holyoke St)
w/ Julianne Shepherd and Sara Jaffe
July 21st: DC @ Infoshop - 7pm
July 22nd: Baltimore, MD @ Charm City Arts Space - 8 pm
JUly 24th: Chapel Hill, NC @ Co-Op House
July 25th: Louisville, KY @ BRICK Community Center
St Louis @ Lemp Arts and Mnpls & Duluth TBA end of summer.
Back to Minneapolis, again, for a sec: City Pages lists the 50 best songs by Minnesotan Artists . "Technically", on some Little Red Hen principal, I cannot complain because I was asked to contibute, and forgotted, but whatevs, I am straight beefing, because well, that's my primary life skill --
1. First and foremost: When you include the Gear Daddies on any list of "best", it pulls the entire list down, and makes the whole thing really "relative" . If yr going to put on Gear Daddies, we might as well just add Superball 63 while we're at it.
2. Isn't Trip Shakespeare's "Toolmaster of Brainerd" the song with the unforgettable line "Your mouth is my apartment in the evening"? That song should really be on "the best worst songs evs" list, if you are working on that already.
3. Possible typo: "Kiss" is the best Prince song on Parade . I assume that is what is meant by it's inclusion, yes? Because that's like... the Prince song you play when yr at the tail-end of a DJ set at a wedding reception and the bride's drunk ass sister gets bitchy and asks you to play "some 80's music". C'mon -- The talking parts of "Ballad of Dorothy Parker" are better than "Kiss". The bass-hit that is the first 2 seconds of "I Would Die 4 U" is better than "Kiss". Though, I do realize that there is something Minnesotanally-logical in voting for the most cliche, equivocating and unexplicit song in a canon of unadulterated fucking .
My top favorite Prince songs, for the offishal record:
1. I Wanna be Your Lover
2. Starfish and Coffee
3. Raspberry Beret
4. Pop Life
5. (tie) Strange Relationship / I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man/ Do Me, Baby
5. That Hang Ups vote is a mercy fuck and a half. Same for 12 Rods. I bet the only person in America, outside of former Radio K DJs residing in South St Paul, who could name a member of 12 Rods (first and last name) is the assistant of whatever A&R douche dropped them from their major label deal.
5.5 Just for the sake of honoring how many times I had to hear it during my high school years behind the counter at the St Paul Northern Lights, we cannot forsake Mint Condition.
6. I think it's sacriledge to vote for a Husker Du song that's not on Zen Arcade . PS> If you are or know the girl my ex-bf regifted my (size-small original-issue pink and grey, bleach stains around the neck) Husker Du shirt to, I will pay cash to get it back.
7. I would have voted these on to a runners up list, sentiment being potent and meritous as anything: "Union Feed Grain Mill" by Big Trouble House, Halo of Flies, "Fire Escape" by Vertigo, Jonestown, the first and third songs on the first Milk album, any Saucer song that Pam did not sing, the last two Spectors singles, that Psuedonymphs song about masturbation, the A side of the first Walt Mink single, Hammerhead Into The Vortex when you are stoned.
8. Britt -- I offered $10 a peice to the voting staff to include any song off International House of Pussy's Songs for the hearing impaired . Apparently, it was not enough. I tried my best, I am sorry my best was not good enough.
9. Also, and as an ammendment to the previous list, posted earlier, of rock crits spat from Mnpls loins, I totes forgot object of Ryan Adams scorn: Jim De Rogatis .
Britt Barton Lindsay debuting the use of the word "ridonkabasketball" and explaining why The Hold Steady is what they is to Minneapolis kids, what makes Minneapolis kids what they is, and reminding the world that no other city makes crits like they do in the 612 (Matos, Sinagra, Sutton, Maerz, Harris, Hermes, Hicks, Dolan, Scholtes and the elusive but not forgotten Rod Smith - hows that for a hott cadre?) . PS. She is not lying about that xerox of her tits, as I worked at the downtown Northern Lights and was there when she bestowed that mimeo-gift, though I could swear that xerox was made on the copier in our school library.
This is what I know:
"THE SHIT IS BANANAS" aka TINYLUCKYGENIUS (FEATURING MILES RAYMER) PRESENTS A SCAVENGER HUNT is slated for Sat June 25th, mid evening (like 7 to 11). It is open to all ages, genders and hunt abilities. The hunt is limited to 8 teams of four people. Our "celebrity" judge panel consists of Liz Armstrong, columnist for the Chicago Reader and Johnny Herndon of Tortoise and whomever else we can get. Judging will be subjective and objective, as we delight in allowing room for esoteric interpretation. Prizes TBA but will be, also, real ridonkuliss and amazing (swears). The hunt starts & ends in the Wicker Park-ish area. You must pre-register w/ me --- either as a team or as an individual, so that we can get everything situated -- you must email me before the 23rd at MCFRENCHVANILLA at YAHOO DOT COM and answer the following questions:
1. Do you have the following, or easy access to, for the purpose/duration of the scavenger hunt:
a. WORKING CELL PHONE
b. A POLAROID CAMERA
c. A BIKE
d. A CAR
e. $3.00 (US DOLLARS)
Each team needs to have a cell phone and a polaroid camera. We are suggesting that each team either have 2 members on bikes or one car. If you do not have either, or any of these items, DO NOT SWEAT IT, you will be paired up with people who do. No one will be turned away -- and already a big gang of people are rolling up on this solo, so do not be afraid to get yr loner-ass in gear: the prizes, fellowship and good time being offered is going to be buh-nuttz. SO PUT TOGETHER A TEAM (if Pitchfork can do it, so can you!) - or email me now and register yr solo style for team placement -- because this is not going to be some wack "find a mitten /find a picture of Mayor Daley" style Scavenger Hunt.
VP of Operations "The Shit is Bananas" Scavenger Hunt
In case yr interested, and not crying full cans of Limonata everytime someone says "Ying Yang Twins" -- perhaps the most interesting reaction I have read about all this conundrum long: What do you do when yr a DJ, and a mom, and you have two young daughters to explain to what exactly is being whispered about? DJ DIVA elucidates.
Friday, Alicia Frantz, neighboorhood lady, and audio archivist who recorded sounds of the Chicago city and blogged them, was killed Friday by a truck - while on her bike - on her 32nd birthday. This was her audio blog . I did not know her, but shared orbit of same bike lanes and love of Chicago's noises with her from a few blocks away. RIP. (link courtesy Robin Bonebright)
Miniupdate: Hold Steady is still the best band on the planet. Miles Motherfucking Raymer and I drove to Milwaukee to see them, stood up front, got sprickled with Craig's spit and got home to the Chi as the sun was coming up. My reading tour intersects with them playing on a national late night TV program, so i get to go see the shit. I am not flossing to make you jealous, I am just sayin...
GIRLS AND LADIES AND QUEERKIDS: keep yr links comin' -- I will write back and get caught up on 'spondance when I get done licking the cover of the Common CD.
My brain and body feel straight up catbox due to the v. late night at the Hold Steady show and exacerbated by 3:30 and 4 am wake-up text messages from child protege/ closeted R&B fan Ben Dickey, regarding "So Gone" by Monica*, which I put on a CD I made him two months ago (3:29 am reads: "Is Monica the one rapping on the breakdown? Shit is fucking GOOD!" my reply: I have no fucking idea, as I cannot hear the song from here ).
So, no fancy talk this morning just these hot tips:
1. My Juiceboxxx profile is in this week's Chicago Reader. His new album R U There God?! Itz me, Juiceboxxx is available for purchase online now
2. Slang Editorial is a group blog I do enjoy. I wish they were my friends. Maybe the already are. I have no idea.
3. LADIES (and queerkids) WHO READ THIS BLOG -- The call is still open and urgent -- please write me and tell me about your life and give me links to yr LJ pages, yr special projects website and the myspace URL for your bands. I am gunning for a megapost this weekend with all of them.
4. Cobain, Sinatra, Seger thread on Segerfile, the ultimate Bob Seger fansite , a thread which also details how Seger's "It's a Mystery" convinced Grand Funk Railroad not to reform. My next EMP Paper now in the works: "Thy Will Be Done: Bob Seger's Omnificent Power"
(* The strength of the four singles off After The Storm had it on my 2003 P&J ballot. Monica and Brandy are both totally under-rated, BTW, please revisit discog from "The Boy Is Mine" forward, for a good time.)
You know what I think you should do? I mean, if yr into this sort of thing: Go to page 3 of the B Pitch Control song-player on their website and and select all the Modeselektor songs , BPC099, the most recent 12" is my favorite thing to DJ this whole year so far. The player thing only gives you 1/3rd of the song, but it gives you the best hook or break, so it's not such a raw deal with that interuptus stee.
I am not quite sure why I never linked to The Blog Of Franklin Bruno before, because I read it plenty often. For what seemed like "a long time" he was talking and noir film and opera and Jamaican oboeist of the 30s or something that I knew very very little about. Franklin is smart about many many things I barely know the existence of though I feel like maybe we have some shared space re: Simple Machine's singles discography and french cheeses. Franklin (as Shayla put it) looks like he solves mysteries for a living, and also plays on one of my favorite records in a very long time, which is the new Mountain Goats album -- which, despite being my favorite, is so intense I can barely get through the whole thing in a casual sitting.
PS. re: Common. "GO!" is such gooey radio treat, so convincing - nay, hypnotizing - in it's mantra-hooks, after the fourth time hearing I started wondering "I wonder if John Mayer albums are actually good? Maybe I should check that dude out. Hmmm" -- WHAT THE EFF? Isn't that part some Nostradamial proclaimation about the end-times, that I develop curiousity re: John Mayer.
PPS. The Fuses record on Shit Sandwich is really fantastic, and I will detail that fantastic later, but I am just telling you now, go pick the shit up. Most SS releases sell out of the stores so fast it is as if they do not actually exist, so i would just skip the hassle and order whatever is in print from Norah's site. If you are sleeping on Shit Sandwich, you are sleeping on the future. If you think that's hyperbole, search up some SS-issued singles on whatever e-auction site you favor and check how fevered folks get for them.
Notice from the Messhall -- Chicago's most most awesome progressive gallery space/collective.
OPEN SOURCE/OPEN EAR
JULY 28 ñ August 11
This is a call for all music makers, audiophiles, sound artists, file pirates,
oddity trawlers, programmers, mixtapers, noise addicts, radio hackers, circuit
benders, and free improvisers to participate in a two-week exhibition at Mess
Hall, in Rogers Park. The objective of this show is to bring into focus
diverse sound practices that resist conventional modes of production,
distribution, performance or perception. The show will accommodate a gallery
installation of submissions and projects, as well as a series of evening
performances. This will be accompanied by a website and small publication.
All types of contribution are welcome!
Please consider submitting:
ï Proposals for one-night performances, on or off-site events, installations,
ï Recorded material for compilation, exchange, remix, broadcast or promotion
ï Posters, pamphlets, imagery or ephemera related to your work or to other DIY
ï Essays related to the ideas of open-source programming, soundhacking,
politics and sound, installation, improvisation, subculture, etc.
ï How-to instructions or diagrams for instrument building/programming/deviant
All Submissions and proposals are due by July 15th
1342 W Hubbard St., #2F
Chicago, IL 60622
Moya Bailey , student figurehead of the Spelman boycott re: Nelly's "Tip Drill" has a blog . I saw her speak when J Shep took me on a date to the Feminism and Hip Hop conference at U of C, and she was hope and ideals on killion watt sprint.
Moya on the fallout around "Wait" (from Anthony Miccio's blog's comment-zone): "Seems we have to put gender in terms of race just so men can listen."
Chicago-week is le bump--- undoctored fun all night every night, so follow the bouncing ball:
June 1 (thats tonight) - Apparat at Sonoteque. He was at one time, Erykah to Ellen Allien's Common, but tonight he is playing for $4 at the eurotrashy bar on Chicago Ave. Softer, pliable minimal Berlin sounds.
June 2 - Hold Steady. (I almost wrote "Lifter Puller" - same dif.) at the Bottle.
June 3 - Mr Dibbs avec une Bluprint at Logan Square Auditorium, which has the accoustics of a barn and every sound rings out like it's being broadcast through a Mr. Microphone the size of an airplane. Should be good inspite of this.
June 4- early: I.C.E. performs works by John Cage, and debuts work from Xenakis, Lobera and other moderns Concert Hall at Columbia College - 6 pm/free, late is Catfish Haven at Schubas.