June 30, 2006


Have you seen this? TV on the Radio doing "Dreams" with a blousey Peter Murphy and a beefy Trent Reznor doing vocals. My favorite part is when they pan out to the audience and all of 36 kids are in the arena to witness it.

Posted by Jessica at 04:06 PM | TrackBack

June 29, 2006


Hey guys! Arcwelder is back together!. Everyone is getting into the Antiques Roadshow spirit for the Touch N' Go anniversary show! Who's next you think? Mule? Flour? The Meatmen? Phono-Comb? Rollins to MC perhaps? I'd pay money to see Monorchid re-unite and maybe Tar as well, maybe The Didjits if they only were playing "Dad" -- but only if it doesn't involve sitting through Big Black, also reunited.

Addendum/Special PS for Electrical Audio Message Board: Thanks for sending so much traffic my way. If you hate me and my writing so much why do you read my blog? Does calling me a cunt bring you closer to Steve? Bound, through the internet, in yr fondness for certain mics and yr deep disdain for my unremitting cuntdom? "Ohmigod! NO! Jessica Hopper admitted she wouldn't pay to see Big Black re-unite. SOUND THE ALARM! MUST START MESSAGE THREAD! ALERT STEVE AT ONCE!". Please--you make it so easy for me.

Posted by Jessica at 06:08 PM | TrackBack


Click here to read my triple riff on leases from The Kim Gordon Boogie Woogie Mountain Band, Lizzy Mercier Descloux and Lagos' golden years.

Mike Taylor, tattooed softy, wrote today with the best suggestions yet for topics for my final Punk Planet column: "Employment opportunities for PP readers" and "The Moon Landing v. 9/11: Who's Zoomin' Who?". MIGHTY & POIGNANT!

Posted by Jessica at 05:25 PM | TrackBack

June 28, 2006


Where to live is the priveledged obsession of the week, going on second week, every day all day: country or city. warm or cold. possibly boring or decent routine. deer or best friends. unknown or known. Either way, night times blow by a-scour on Craigslist. I find a listing for someone giving away a cute plaid couch in Greensboro and take it as a sign. Romancing the idea of country idyll; an agrarian solution to a city-spiritual ill, like I am the Diane Keaton character in the movie where she starts making organic baby food and stops being a bitch, transformed by a simple life, then reborn into a success that feels holy and pure, when her baby food goes platinum.

So the real question to ask becomes: Would rural typing feel better than typing within two miles of a major museum?

Posted by Jessica at 12:57 AM | TrackBack

June 27, 2006


Last night, I went to the flower dumpster, and behind one of them was a six foot long plastic wall-mount cloud that says "dreamland" in cursive, with big glitter faux candy glued to it. If you want it, email me and I will tell you where it is. It'd be a conversation peice for any home.

Posted by Jessica at 12:38 PM | TrackBack

June 26, 2006


I was writing about the Go-Go's 25th anniversary tour, and found a wonderful thing to share with you-- The "Ask Kathy Valentine" section on Kathy Valentine's website. You can ask her any question about what it is like being the Go-Gos and she will answer in total earnest (she plays the same guitars as Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top). The most recent question is a dude insulting her playing and asking her if she ever got les with Jane Weidlin. Imagine being in the Go-Gos, and having been playing for guitar for 28 years and dudes still flipping you shit for not being able to play like it's year-zero and you did not write "Vacation". I wrote in with my burning question --you should with yours. Respect is due.

Posted by Jessica at 12:23 AM | TrackBack

June 25, 2006


The weather forecast was grim, the skies were dark, and about 400 people had showed by mid-day, c. Rhymefest, which was 14,600 shy of capacity. We joked that it was probably the biggest crowd Rhymefest had ever had in Chicago, by double or triple. His freestyle was ok, but the whole line of lines about R.Kelly and fucking young chicks but even they have HIV now, how he started using condoms again, after his interlude about his rap o' conciousness was lost on me. Or just lost. Lupe Fiasco gave me genuine hometown pride over "Conflict Diamonds" and his weird sweatshirt that looked like some spin-paint thing you get at the state fair in 5th grade was also a thing of greatness. He made jokes about being straight edge and his goofy skate rat friends mugged on the side of the stage. He felt Chicagoan to me. I never wish fame upon any entertainer whose work I like, but I hope he can be our ambassador because even though Kanye and Common rep for Chicago, they do not rep for us. Qualo did two songs before Lupe. One about respecting him-slash-some bitches ho pussy ugliness, the other about getting paid. Quel suprise. He said he was the true sound of Chicago, but he was the true sound of the capitalist patriarchy suck-this, on cruise control, version four snore and seven years ago. His hypeman called out hoods - four people from the Southside, a dozen from the Westside, maybe a hundred Northside and then explicably, he yelled for the Eastside to represent--who is that? People who live on their sailboats in the lake? Billy Jean King, Oprah and the ghost of Chris Farley--all you folks who live in 4.5 million dollar condos on the Gold Coast PUT YOUR MOTHERFUKIN HANDS UP!

addendddduh: Everyone mentioned in the last two days of this blog wound up on Cobrasnake today. Miles and I, side by side, like in real lide: him partying, me funereal as ever. More notably: Enfants du Boredoms

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June 24, 2006


I lost the sound on Oakley, two blocks from home, so it traveled a full mile with me. Towards the end, I could only hear pockets, passing a straight away alley or a tall building, it would richochet, voice tripling over 11-second-old beats and a command of squeak: "ESS-OOH-VEE". I passed a shop on Fulton, it's a glass recycling foundry kind of place, dudes were on break, and I wonder, do they wonder what the alien din is? Or do they know about grime musik? It became another music against the industrialside that lay between the Intonation and my casa, it was the ghost of Lady Sov.

Of today: Ghostface did show, two missed flights but did show, wrapped in towel, saying our cities name. I was a city block away, pilfering fried cheese curds from Tommy's paper basket and then a game a telephone broke out, each person relaying down the curb we were eating on.

The whole posse is on stage.
There's like 16 people on stage.
Starks has 30 people on stage.
Thats not his posse, that's all the American Apparel hoochies.
Dude, there is like 1000 people on stage.

We walked slow, toward Tony Starks, who did four or six songs, an ODB tribute with tender dedication. Tommy said "Are you allowed to do that?" and Philip, possibly serious said "People dedicate things to dead people all the time. Hospital wings, libraries. It's tradition." We got as far as the sound booth, and from then out, he just big-upped the White Sox, got grinded on by the approximately 45 or 60 women on stage, and told them, and us "Make your booty bounce to get your pussy wet." I asked Liz if that happens to her when she dances. She says "Yeah. When I am dancing and thinking "jeez, I look hot." Sure." Miles said that does not happen to him.

Erase Errata were the Minutemen of now. Great and singing the questions on everyones minds. Their album is v. post-Guantanemo, very now-conciousness. You must see them and hear what they are doing.

Seeing Roky Erickson made me think he should of been playing at Kingston Mines. Blues choogle done choogled. Boredoms only had a 40 minute set, so they played two songs, phenomenal. I was totally high from eating a whole funnel cake, and covered in powdered sugar. The guy from High on Fire was missing a tooth, was shirtless, bikery and had his entire side covered in a half finished rabid wolf head tattoo, all the girls I was with professed that he was their new crush. "I saw a picture of him once, passed out, holding his dick. He's from Oakland," said one. A missing tooth=a dude that will give you an adventure. They were so loud we all had to lay out on the grass under a far away tree and eat more snacks swiped from catering, chew lemonade straws, ponder passing asses, outfits, tattoos and drunkeness of hipsters and hip frauds and talk long about why no girls are in bands anymore. It was a fine time.

Posted by Jessica at 10:19 PM | TrackBack

June 23, 2006


Hot + Leisurely presents...

Friday, June 23rd 10pm-4am
Come dressed up in your bourgeouis bling or as your dirty proleteriat self. Spinning choice cuts from the last 50 years of music (disco, crunk, funk, punk, and other junk)
DJ Psycho Killer
MC Snaggletooth
Ms. Leisurely
Video installation "What Color Will My Flag Be?" by David Detroit.
Hot and Leisurely is located at...2539 N. Sawyer 3A Chicago, IL
Directions:Blue Line- Logan Square stop. 2 minute walk from the train, Kedzie exit. Mapquest it.

Posted by Jessica at 05:32 PM | TrackBack


Intonation is starting tomorrow and there are wondering crew/dirtball gangs of other towns milling on the streets of what we call "The Crotch", aka Wicker Park. You know they are from out of town because they are a different kind of greasy, they look too slim for midwesterners, they are passing the time sitting in a pack in front of the record store lighting up books of matches one match at a time and throwing them at the shoes of passerby, which is a habit you only pick up by living in places like a college dorm in Piqua, Ohio*, and not something you do in the city unless you want to get that filty bandana kicked off yr head. The Vice Guide To Chicago came out this week, in anticipation of their weekend festival, and is an item of much debate. People are speculating on who wrote what--that it must be someone from out of town if they are making like Dan Koretsky is a bona-fide celebrity and recommending that Mexican resturant. I don't care what burritos they recommend for out of town horse hairs to eat, I am just pumped to Erase Errata, Ghostface and the Boredoms. I have not seen Erase Errata play in two months, the Boredoms in 13 years, I have seen Ghostface never-times. See you there. I will be perma-parked by the nearest elotes stand, mowing volumes of corn in a cup.

(* though this was a constant habit of a young Yoko Ono who was cosmopolitan at a young age.)

Posted by Jessica at 03:00 PM | TrackBack

June 22, 2006


From here on out, I am only taking my fashion cues from reluctant queer icon/d-list actress/author/Rita Mae Brown's g.f. Fannie Flagg and her outfits in the 1973-74 season of Match Game. Her "bowtie with explosives t-shirt" beats Charles Nelson Reilly's timeless "bowtie and cabana wear" look.

Posted by Jessica at 08:08 PM | TrackBack


I started saying it out loud last week, and the reactions have been polar-mixed and gender split. Girls say "do it" and dude friends say "why would you do a thing like that?!" as if I said "I am going to go buy a $600 fax machine" not "I'm thinking about moving to the woods outside Chapel Hill for the winter." I tell them my fantasy, that every morning, I take Wyatt and Monkee out of the house in their carrier bags, walk through the woods to a waiting canoe, and they ride at the end of canoe, while I ferry them about. Like in a victorian painting, but they do not have parasols to twirl between their paws. This is only a minor part of the bigger, woodsier, back to the lander idea-r, but cat-canoe voyage ala Thoreau is a part of it.

Posted by Jessica at 03:02 PM | TrackBack


I started saying it out loud last week, and the reactions have been polar-mixed and gender split. Girls say "do it" and dude friends say "why would you do a thing like that?!" as if I said "I am going to go buy a $600 fax machine" not "I'm thinking about moving to the woods outside Chapel Hill for the winter." I tell them my fantasy, that every morning, I take Wyatt and Monkee out of the house in their carrier bags, walk through the woods to a waiting canoe, and they ride at the end of canoe, while I ferry them about. Like in a victorian painting, but they do not have parasols to twirl between their paws. This is only a minor part of the bigger, woodsier, back to the lander idea-r, but cat-canoe voyage ala Thoreau is a part of it.

Posted by Jessica at 02:32 PM | TrackBack

June 21, 2006


You never see people with those kinds of tans and 'doos being so patient and quiet in those big of numbers. I have seen those people gathered together, shopping, chirping each other back, at professional ball games or at speed dating events held at my local gelato store, falling out of doors at last call -- and those people are loud. Save for the buddy-cheers after a tender falsetto that peirced the song mid-bridge, people were very well behaved. We were second row, close enough I could of ripped the 51 digitals and phone cameras out of the surrounding uplifted hands, and even with my bad shot, made it to Thom Yorke's face. During a piano song, awe dictated strict silence, I heard someone jingle keys at the back of the auditorium. For being so big, Radiohead, too, were very quiet. Perhaps it was the finesse of a mega budget (36 guitar changes costs, dog!), that loud, that welp and welter of sound, it can be quieter than the blare of an Empty Bottle show. If I had paid, I would have gotten my money's worth, because I could hear every note, every shred, every Johnny-time on the plinky xylo. I expected Mr. Yorke to kick us reluctant grumpus, star hating the star we made him, but you can tell he likes it, his dances were perfected, rather than flailed, he smiled when we thunder-clapped, he came to the lip of the stage so coquettish. He's the cool guy and he likes being the cool guy. Perhaps that is easy to be in Radiohead -- the cool guy amongst fops and dorks. Against the guitar player who is perma-arched like a question mark, hidden behind a shield of hair, humping the air, forever he fiddles with gadgetry, and mines the neck for rotten noises like "reeeoworrrrrr" and "zeeee-zeeee". That other guitarist, the tall one, he is a cousin to LeRoy Bach surely. Tall, willowy, that PBS police detective face cracking half smirk between the pedal-stomp. He was a giggler.
They were all gigglers, actually.

Posted by Jessica at 11:42 AM | TrackBack

June 20, 2006


What's good you ask? Les Aus are a band from Catalunya, Spain who are crackin several fine jams on a record I just found on the floor of my workspace entitled Haranna Hanne, the American vers comes out next month on Ted Leo's label. Math-a-roni with the brunt sparkles of Spanish traditional. Not to sound like a menu. Plus, on their myspace page it looks like they might be friends with every cool band in Spain that you don't know about. Worthwhile myspace time killer project--investigation of the Madrid post-punk scene.

Mika Miko have their debut coming out on Kill Rock Stars end of July, and it's hi-energy young sound. They sight Reagan Youth as an influence, but to me they sound like if The Necros had been a first wave Riot Girl band. Rippin leads, circus organ and the whole band shouting along on the chorus. Feels like 82 to me. They are going on a tour that goes in a line from LA to Asheville, NC, which is some real Black Flag style business.

Posted by Jessica at 12:06 PM | TrackBack

June 19, 2006


"The Machine Media presents Music with Meaning 7 Quimby's June 19 7PM Readings from Brian Costello, Jim Derogatis, Jessica Hopper, J.R. Nelson and Amy Phillips. Hosted by Kelsey Snell and Brandon Wetherbee. " It's a benefit for a rape crisis center and food pantry and there is all of us djing after at Rodan, which is 2 blocks away on Milwaukee.

Posted by Jessica at 01:50 PM | TrackBack

June 18, 2006


I saw a man either dead or quite injured, splayed in a way that dictated wrongness on a grassy median en route to Newark. It was hardly sun up. I kept mulling the word "body"--why we say "body" rather than "dead man/woman/kid"--is it because "body" implies the spirit has left and "man" is of spirit? Is it because body is more clinical and "that man is dead" sounds like what you say in John Ford films? "Body" is rude, I have surmised.

I was at the gate too early but the paper fairy left behind all my favorite sections of the Sunday Times. I was a little saddened to learn that while last year was a good year for freak folk, this year is really it's year; though I am not one to discourage neo-hippie careerism. Obits were sad and incredible: the guy who discovered double stars, a guy who started the oversight committe for Canadian kennels that make artisianal dog cheese*. I read the most gorgeous obit for a man; 74, lifelong Manhattanite, hardly more than a sentence, unsigned--"He lived with outstanding style, spirit, class and always rose to the occasion." O, to live classy in this world. O, to be someone who nurses a dog to make human food! O, twin stars!

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June 16, 2006


My story about the Latino punk fest is in this week's Chicago "funpaper" Reader.

I am in NYC, where things are total yet casual, the air is hot as breath and the women are well accessorized. Last night's night out was epic and plump with the sort of experiences that are particular to New York visits; it only exists here. A string of bars and people I forgot I knew, towed by Jane's friends who I should have known, these kids that used to be in hardcore bands b.i.t.d. who ditched the scene in a scheme to party in Beirut and wound up doing clandestine humanitarian work in the deep third world and had just returned from Pakistan and Liberia where they were "chillin'"--funded by a book deal about such. They took us places "so awful you will love it." Wrong on the first two stops, though right about the the third: a Playboy party south of greased-tit gemorrah with bottle service, a T.I. afterworld of grind and half celebrity. I saw John Legend get a lapdance from a beautiful model while another beautiful model lit the joint in the dancing girls mouth while her ass orbited his torso. It is the world I fantasimagine exists when I watch hotel cable, believing it only exists in the TV. Chris Gotti sat next to us and we discussed the diamondy von shiny mammoth diamond blindingness of his watch. "Mmm, Very shiny" I said. "It's real" he said, laughing. "Whatchoo know about that?!" yelled the entire dancefloor.

Posted by Jessica at 05:10 PM | TrackBack

June 14, 2006


Sassy-fine Em Rems blogs it and I agree. I saw this shirt the other day on a girl who did not seem to be making any rules at all. Maybe that is my inference, that if a woman is wearing heels so tall as to pitch her forward like is climbing a steeply graded hill, I see the patriarchy's influence cast within those shoes, not a vagina dentata with a Kelis-inspired gold grill that reads "BOSSY". I know, kind of stodgy and second wave*, but also: a shirt that says "I have the pussy so I make the rules" is still totally ironic in 2006, and would only be handy if "Opposite Day" was a world-wide event, rather than particular to grade school taunting.

(* I'd rather 2nd wave identify as third-hegding-fourth wave feminism is mirror-made off contempo-patriarchy--which is capitalist exploitation and personal pleasure (duh)--making a profit on anything you can (logical extention of second waves desire for work outside the home, but) including viewing ones own body, looks, sexuality with the scheming eye of an eBay powerseller. I feel like pleasure-empowerment is a secondary concern when poor women world wide being used as Norplant guinea pigs (google it), and it seems like Eve Ensler is the only person who might care. (PS, and ok: I am so not going to bitch about anyone raising money to help women and trying to do anti-rape education on subway posters or LED screens in sports stadiums, but but but I don;t think the revolution will happen at the behest of the well moneyed--Soooo in reading that story I felt like there is another whole story in how the mega-mill rally du Ensler: a. the story does not mention "feminism" by name b. the focus is about 'gina semantics c. is the world is changing with spin, starpower, money-throwing? d. can plays and the discussion of them foster revolution, or is that some Russia 1910 shit only? e. What is the "until" in "Until the violence stops: NYC"? Until sounds like a threat, but what is being threatened other than an ad campign? ))

Posted by Jessica at 10:31 PM | TrackBack


Next week is a mini fest of queer film at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. Info here.

Posted by Jessica at 03:06 PM | TrackBack


I wrote a thing thing abt Cave Deaths for City Pages. Check thier wild sound. Tonight they play a benefit for Planned Parenthood with the best-named band evs, "Bro V. Wade". Also, according to America's only genuinely funny message board, Nate was not groggy, but in fact, "blazed to the bone"--ahem.

Posted by Jessica at 11:06 AM | TrackBack

June 13, 2006


While in the grocery I wound up on Sound Opinions this week propping The Replacements. It airssss in Chicago and Mnpls this Saturday, if you listen to those public radio stations.

Posted by Jessica at 10:10 PM | TrackBack


Oh strange day to love and hate. Mid of it, I rang JR, turned out he was a block up the street, eating a pear in front of the library, waiting for his turn at the computers. He has to stay on top of his fantasy league. I showed up stomping, hot with the new news from my landlord (landlord with the Russian accent and zee lizp, who, first question he ask is always "How eez you huthzbeend?". I never correct him.) turns out our lease is seven months long, not a year. And if we wanna stay, we gotta come up with $300 more a month, and he knows we can't--he knocked on the door to say he's showing the apartment tomorrow, purely rhetorical, and heres two months notice p dot s dot. Post library, we wandered with half an aim, and jinxed sayin "I'll watch anything with Lee Marvin in it!". Talked briefly of the strangeness of being in the world; ran into Nora and went to the dollar store for pencils for her, notebook for JR, nothing for me. Store soundtrack: pan fluted version of "I Am A Rock." After an errand to pick up JR's mashed potatoes and gravy, after quizzical discussion about the concepts and practice of career, after "huthzbeend", after early rising, before new french girlfriend, after new construction condos, after much hoofing, before edits, we toured the very tidy casa for sale of a old woman who had only lineoleum floors, three canaries, a kind, doughy face. She was reading Anne Rice en espanol.

This early morning in the line at the courthouse, the morning on the bench outside Daley Center as tourists in fake train cars helmed by bullhorned announcers pulled up and everyone snapped shots of the grand Picasso, far enough away to not suffer pigeon or attorney acosting or wafts of acrid summer baked piss. Who wants a block away picture of the fucking Daley Center, even with it's statuary? Where must you come from for that to be pictureworthy?

To love this city, I attest, you must also hate it dispassionately.

Posted by Jessica at 08:18 PM | TrackBack

June 12, 2006


Music with Meaning #7 is a-happening, this year benefitting the food panty and rape crisis advocacy--30 events in 30 days--nary a dull moment. Next Monday, hatch a plan, because get this: Brian Costello, Amy Phillips, JR Nelson, myself and Jim DeRogatis are reading together at Quimbys, then DJing at Rodan after. Bring money to donate. JR and I are both reading new work, his about music and drinking, mine about Joni Mitchell and learning creepiness. More or less.

Posted by Jessica at 11:51 AM | TrackBack

June 09, 2006



Ok, routing requests are in, and it looks like this: Al Burian, author and I, spectral enigma, are going to do a swift jaunt to read in towns between here and Providence, RI, and back, in late August. Cleveland, Philly, NYC, Providence for sure. Are you in a rippin town between Chi-Boogie and Providence? I will consider Boston, if someone can think up something cool. THEN, later in the fall, we're heading West Coast. Yes, it's true. The big cities for sure (Minneapolis, Seattle, Olympia, Portland, ?, SF, LA,?,?,?), but since gas costs major, but we are also interested in stops in humbler burgs, the Eugenes and Santa Cruzs. Not sure if the route home is going to be southwesterly, or direct through the middle. Email me and make a case for us to stop in your town or your college (can you help hook this up?) or your Sadie Hawkins dance as I will totes also DJ your spot too: Gas is way expensive, so West Coast tour is about maximum hustle.

Posted by Jessica at 11:31 AM | TrackBack

June 08, 2006


My essay on the gospel in the Pink Mountaintops album from this week's edition of America's most-fine weekly, THEE CHI-BOOGLIEST--THE CHICAGO READER.

Posted by Jessica at 09:29 PM | TrackBack


Q: What do these videos from Technotronic, L'Trimm and MC Luscious have in common?

No, not that they look like they were directed by the Paper Rad collective.

Not that Chuck Eddy perplexingly included their album in his book about metal.

No, not a thorough reminder that humping the ground is an underused dance move.

A: Cropped jacket + bike shorts + brimmed hat = a killer look for summer-- For dudes, ladies and those that dispute the assertion of binary gender. Judging by the amount of yoga pants and tear away track pants I see on folks, I think people are taking the "casual but active/athletic" look in the wrong direction. Let these videos serve as inspiration; try "bougie bike messenger" or "the hussy of Tae-Bo class" -- or limit yourself to spandex, leather and peace-sign medallions...you can thank me for this later.

Posted by Jessica at 12:06 AM | TrackBack


Q: What do these videos from Technotronic, L'Trimm and MC Luscious have in common?

No, not that they look like they were directed by the Paper Rad collective.

Not that Chuck Eddy perplexingly included their album in his book about metal.

No, not a thorough reminder that humping the ground is an underused dance move.

A: Cropped jacket + bike shorts + fannypack = a killer look for summer-- For dudes, ladies and those that dispute the assertion of binary gender. Judging by the amount of yoga pants and tear away track pants I see on folks, I think people are taking the "casual but active/athletic" look in the wrong direction. Let these videos serve as inspiration; try "bougie bike messenger" or "the hussy of Tae-Bo class" -- or limit yourself to spandex, leather and peace-sign medallions...you can thank me for this later.

Posted by Jessica at 12:05 AM | TrackBack

June 07, 2006


Being a Chicagoan, sometimes it is hard to explain how politically corrupt Chicago is. My first night in Israel, at our reception dinner I was seated with an Israeli financier who grew up here on the west-side. We spent about 20 minutes excitedly explaining the recent turns of Chicago poltico-saga; the hired truck scandal, how close things are getting to Daley, how the takedown of our former governor began with a school bus crash--but it was too much work to try and explain Betty Loren Maltese and the fallout of Cicero.
(I really love saying her name, it sounds so fake. When you imagine what a Betty Loren Maltese looks like-- do you imagine
I don't. I imagine a cold, thin-lipped real estate agent who stops at nothing to get what she wants, drives a convertable and has long blonde hair. Anyhow.) Here's the mini-summary on how ol' Betty, mobbed up, made-up and way confident, helped to defraud Cicero taxpayers of 33 million dollars. In that link, there is another link, to an episode of This American Life about Cicero's corruption scandal. Oh, and I almost forgot, the item that jogged my thoughts of Maltese: Maltese associate convicted on fraud involving his dog --"Rocco J. Dawg" --classic.

Posted by Jessica at 11:14 AM | TrackBack

June 06, 2006


I have had three conversations in three days about it, and so I figure maybe wider evangelism is needed.

I only have one cook book. I used to have two, but that is another story. I only really have one because the one cook book taught me not just how to make things, but how to cook. It's called Vegetarian Cooking For Everyone. It really is for everyone--the proof is that my friend Jonah Bayer, ultimate emo-dog, went from eating like, Hormel Chili out of the can to being someone capable and willing to make meals that impress adult women. It's 752 pages long and before you even get to the main courses, there is like, a chapter about knives and all this basic stuff that no one ever tells you, like that when you use a metal garlic press the garlic comes out tasting more acrid. The chapters are mostly sorted by prime ingredient (apples, winter squash, swiss chard, grains) and it tells you all about the qualities of different varieties, what to look for when buying, how to store it, what sauces and other dishes in the book go well with it, what other dish you can turn the leftovers into. It also has a chapter on drinks and a couple on deserts and plenty of suggestions of how to make most of the recipes vegan. Most of the vegans I know eat disgusting flavorless food (marinated tofu and brown rice!) because they think that that is their lot. Seriously, if you are that person, buy this book just for the sauces recipes and you'll be able to stay vegan for more than 18 months.

The other cookbook I loved and lost is World Food Cafe Cookbook, which has recipes that will slay you and boggle the mouthes of your guests. The downside is they do not say how many each recipes serves--and sometimes it's enough for two people, othertimes you have enough Turkish Eggplant-stuff for eight people.

thats all for today.

Posted by Jessica at 01:58 PM | TrackBack



Burian is coming over tomorrow to use the copy machine. I am going to talk to him about doing another reading tour soon. If you had us before and want to have us back, let me know, or if you have a suggestion of where we could read in your town, please email me.

Second, I am DJing the Chicagoist party Thursday night at the Pontiac @ about 11:30 or so. I think it's free. I got some new records, French chantueseseses and things strange to you that I think you might be glad to know. Lotta bump bump bump.

Thirdly, you need Lagos Chop Up. For some reason Amazon lists it at $41, but I got it for $12.99 at the store. You will feel like a magic machine made for dancing when you put it on.

Posted by Jessica at 11:51 AM | TrackBack

June 05, 2006


Please note:
Don't be bummed you missed the two-nights of Mike Jones shows this weekend. Easily confused, but I don't think this dude has songs about getting brain in the turning lane. Almost for certain.

Because you can't work Google on yr own:
The myspace page of thefeminist hardcore band from the latino hxc fest:Condenada. Old school vaginal-pride graphix in punk have seemed to be missing since the Psuedonymphs broke up: Re-represent.

Posted by Jessica at 05:01 PM | TrackBack

June 04, 2006


Hausipungo got bumped off Friday's show and onto Saturday's. They were so great. It was like taking a time machine back to Jabberjaw.
One of the only places to sit down was on driving games. Bexxy and I drank cokes. Cindy was in a text fight with someone half the night. I made Cindy translate for me. She kept saying "Even if it was in English I couldn't understand--it's hardcore!"
Tropezio. Before their set they played a sort of mash-up over the PA of popular salsa songs with the I Have A Dream speech with samples of TV shows in Spanish. When the salsa song played, tattoo'd couples suddenly busted moves with suave refinement, then, two minutes later were in the pit.
They made a speech about Nicaragua during their set, and these kids unfurled a banner.
Miriam from Condenada. We got there at 9, thinking Condenada were on at 10. They did not start til 1:30. We waited through 12 bands to see them, and it was totally worth it.
They had a little pinata-gift for the crowd.
Sometimes they have two singers.
"Chicks up front". The girl in the headscarf was fusing religious traditional with punk-- she was wearing loose non-form exposing clothes which included an XXL-sized Rage Against the Machine shirt; I was standing behind her and she pulled up her sleeve to scratch her arm, and her she was covered in tattoos. I want to know her life story.
Note Trish's hand is covered in blood. It's not a real show til the drummer bleeds.

Posted by Jessica at 01:21 PM | TrackBack

June 02, 2006


I got an email from Dan Sinker, my editor-publisher at Punk Planet last night asking me to quit my column in order to make room for new blood they are bringing in with the redesign. I said "sure" because I support that idea and have not turned in a column in two issues because I forgot and was not sure what I had to say to the kids anymore--that I spent this morning downloading an entire album by The Little River Band? They know the scene suxx, punk is dead/alive/reborn, that racism and homophobia and sexism suxx, too--and they are likely ready to hear it from someone else.

Burian and I had this convo a few weeks ago about the horror of encountering the body of work that our columns add up to--as we are both compiling and combing them out for anthologized printings--and realizing not only were you saying the same thing over and over for (in my case) six years, but as Al put it "what you wrote would scare anyone away from punk rock." It's a bitter pill, but I will gladly put it in the Pillverizer™ and snort it. I been writing for PP regular for about 11 years, and all my friends, save for Al, are long gone from it's pages and I now have plenty other places I can publish my stuff, and I would rather the platform of those column inches be alotted to a Becky Smith or Mairead or Lizzie E.

Peace to the punx and the Little River Band alike --I'm out.

Posted by Jessica at 03:56 PM | TrackBack


I read some books, loved them and then wrote about them for the Reader's annual books issue.

Posted by Jessica at 12:29 AM | TrackBack

June 01, 2006


A round-up:

Greensboro's own punk-metal ensemble Facedowninshit has just released their new album Nothing Positive, Only Negative on Relapse. The band recently faced-off in a ten day drinking contest with Municipal Waste (the DRI of now-times) according to their Myspace blog--it's unclear who won. Listen to the title track "NPON" here.

You have heard it and have no idea you have heard it. "Disposable Europop with whooshing Trance chorus that keeps popping up between snap-hits on B96" sound familiar? It's "Everytime We Touch" by Cascada and it might be my favorite song right now.

On Tuesday, for a wild-bargain price of 3.99$, I purchased a used copy of a comp called Old Tyme Lemonade. It's a CD of the edition of 100 cassette comp of noise bands. It's un-mastered and all the better for it. All the big names--Midflayer, Lightning Bolt, Kites, Dropdead--but the lesser knowns--landed, Knifestorm and others are just as fierce. Comps are rarely this consistant. Or loud.

In real world news and feelings: Ritchey encapsulates our rage. I am still working on getting my mind around the headline on the wire news yesterday: "Bush Express Concern Over Iraq" -- surely a sign of the apocalypse, no?

Posted by Jessica at 06:48 PM | TrackBack


A scoop for those that care, courtesy a little birdy, a not-so-secret-secret reunion headliner announced for Friday night of the Latino Punk Fest:

Los Crudos

If you start driving now, you can totally make it here by 8 pm doors tomorrow.

Posted by Jessica at 10:25 AM | TrackBack