You Better Listen to the Radio

You either shut up or get cut up;
They don’t wanna hear about it.
It’s only inches on the reel-to-reel.
And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
Tryin’ to anaesthetise the way that you feel...
-Elvis Costello

I've started to DJ on the "radio" again, after a 2 1/2 year drought, and it feels GOOD! It's a internet station called Little Radio, and it allows me to play pretty much whatever I want. Well - uh, whatever I want. It's much different than DJing in clubs or bars, where you are actively trying to please a bunch of drunks and keep the mood drinky and stuff.

Anyway, next week I'll have a pre-programmed show (cuz I won't be in town), but here's what I played this week. If you're interested, tune in on Saturdays from 12-3pm. I think.

Cup To The Wall - Satisfact (w/Lois)
Binario - Komeda
Carcass - Siouxsie & the Banshees
Partner in Crime - Slant 6
Your Mama Won't Like Me - Suzi Quatro
Bury Me With It - Modest Mouse
Stop! Stop! Stop! - Graham Gouldman
Fire Engines - Aisler's Set
I Don't Care - Teenage Fanclub
Strength - Comet Gain
Dr. Love - Tom Jones
Hey Deannie - Shaun Cassidy
Karoline - Neko Case
Mania - Throwing Muses
Deanna - Nick Cave
God Only Knows - Apollonia Heck
Ghost of A Shark - Tom McRae
Raleigh - Arcwelder
Blonde Beast of Prey - The End of History
Satellite Radio - Red Planet
Gimme My Radio - The Donnas
Tattooed Love Boys - Pretenders
Anti Love Song - Betty Davis
TVC 15 - David Bowie
Little Girl - Graham Bond Organisation
Crazy Legs - Soul Tornados
Crumbs Off the Table - Laura Lee
Editions of You - Roxy Music
Legal Man - Belle & Sebastian
I Can't Dance to That Music You're Playin' - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas
Jet Fighter - The Three O'Clock
Pull Thru Barker - Prolapse
Me & My Miniskirt - Minnie & the Kneebones
The Crying Room - The Ghost Club
Glad All Over - The Rums & Coke
Diamondshine - The Clean
B4 We Go Under - Barbara Manning
This Thing Nowhere - Bettie Serveert
Thunderbolt - Patrick Park
Ceremony - New Order
Wicked - Twilight Singers
Stickman Blues - Warlocks
Sunshine Superman - Donovan
The Sad Chicken - Leroy & the Drivers
Liberation Conversation - Marlena Shaw
Close to Tears - Actionslacks
Solaris - Failure
Primary - the Cure
Give It Up - LCD Soundsystem (thanks, Shawn! ;)
Dance To The Underground - Radio 4
The Breaks - Black Keys
Thursday Girl - Black Hills
Freak Scene - Dinosaur Jr.
Web In Front - Archers of Loaf
Ice Cold Ice - Husker Du
Dragon Lady - Geraldine Fibbers
Psychofuckindelic - Thelonious Monster
I'm A Good Woman - Cold Blood
Poor Boy - R.L. Burnside
You're Dead To Me - Murs
Staring At the Sun - TV On the Radio
The Horror - RJD2
Stand Together - Beastie Boys
No Jumper Cables - Aesop Rock
All the Pretty Girls Go To the City - Spoon
Love Plus One - Haircut 100
What Goes Up - The Clientele
Let Me Down Easy - Betty Lavette
Theme From "Mantrap" - ABC

Kiwis & Dinos

I went to New Zealand a couple years ago and found it a wonderful place. I stayed with a friend who once had a pet sheep while growing up. This sheep would ride in the car with the family on the way to the grocery store and sleep in the house - it was that kind of pet.

Anyway, one of the things that struck me about New Zealanders is that they are so ONE with nature. I know that sounds totally hippie, and they aren't hippies, but they haven't destroyed their ecosystem yet and their lifestyles (for the most part) are very integrated with their surroundings. Meaning that people walk through the bush or surf or row or have large productive gardens and it's not like it's a hobby, it just IS.

And, like the Australians I've encountered, they seem to have no fear. My friend's mom thought it would be great to take me to the beach where they filmed Xena, and I just wanted to go to the beach. It was just the start of summer, but still a little nippy. Very rugged surfer types were braving the rips in their full wetsuits while the two of us walked barefoot on a black sand beach. Then she said, "Oh yea, watch your step!" and pointed to a blue used condom on the ground. "Blech - nice!" I said, stepping over it. Then I saw a few more, and soon noticed the beach was littered with them. "Wow, what happened here?" She shrugged and said. "Blue bottles. They wash up all the time." "Blue bottles?" "Oh, dead Portuguese man o' war. Jellies." Ohhhhhhh... so basically, had I stepped on that used condom, I would have paralyzed the lower half of my body or something. No big.

So the latest example of this has happened at the White Crater Island. The island is basically a rumbling, active volcano, smoking and threatening to erupt constantly. Folks visit it by boat, but rarely go onto the land. New Zealand's Geological and Nuclear Sciences have a camera monitoring the island and taking a photo every hour, which is put up on its website. Recently, a little pink dinosaur appeared on the image. Turns out some enterprising young prankster braved the smokey sulfuric atmosphere and stuck the dino sticker onto the camera.

I love New Zealand!

Livin' On A Prayer

How many teen idols does it take to karaoke Bon Jovi? About 6. Probably more if you want it to sound good.

Last night I attended something called "So You Wanna Be A Rock and Roll Star?" It was karaoke, except with a live band, and the songs were pretty much all rock 'n' roll. Top 40 rock 'n' roll. Mostly from the 80's, now that I think of it. I was a little tipsy, my memory may be hazy. Evidently famous people sometimes show up. (Define "famous," you say. Oh, I will.)

I was fortunate enough to have gone with another person of equal or greater sarcasm than myself, so we had a fine time. At one point, someone approached us and said, "I sense that some smack talking is going on over here." We said it was true, and he acknowledged we had good reason for it. A girl squatting on the stage and glaring at everyone wearing a low slung cowboy hat was attempting to growl Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell," which might have been effectively creepy if we could hear her.

Anyway, it was my friend's first visit also, and we'd heard that the likes of Gwen Stefani and Steve Perry had jumped onstage in the past. Tonight, we had Shane West. You know - from A Walk to Remember? Mandy Moore? And I was told the kid in the knit cap drawn halfway down his face was some guy from the O.C. (those O.C. kids are really a bit overexposed; just my opinion.). They had about 4 other "vocalists" on stage with them, belting out Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name." Badly, I may add.

Perhaps I would be able to keep track of these things if my subscription to Teen Beat hadn't expired sometime back in the 80's... oh well.

I've seen something like this once before, except it was the Throwing Muses and they were playing their own songs and letting rabid fans sing the vocals while Kristin Hersh stood to the side, playing guitar and occasionally feeding the singer a line or two. This one was almost as fun, but I'm biased.

Although, no famous people at the Throwing Muses karaoke! Next time, maybe we can get Ashton Kutcher or something to do "Hate My Way." Riiiiiiight.

Dirty Old Men

Everyday I go for a walk in the ritzy neighborhood around my office. Today I was walking past a cute old school one story brick house, and there were two old guys chatting in the doorway. As I passed the house, I heard a wolf whistle. I sort of stopped, a little shocked because the only other people on the street were the old guys. The whistle came again. Then, "Hey, honey!" I turned around, and there was geezer #1, waving at me and winking, balancing himself with his walker.

I KID YOU NOT.

This is possibly the hottest thing that's happened to me in ages. I started to laugh, and his friend goes, "Nick here has great taste in the ladies." Which made me laugh even more. These were fat, mostly bald and definitely gray, wrinkly, jovial old dudes - cat calling the dame on the street. Too classic.

But no thanks.

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

On Saturday night, I watched a drunk friend of mine break my rear windshield wiper. It was a bit of a spectacle to behold, watching her do it, and I was so wiped out it was kinda too late to stop her before she did the damage. Her friend looked at me as she joyfully yanked the thing back and forth and said, "Isn't that your car?" I sighed. "Yes..."

But that's just another item to pile onto the list of Things That Are Wrong With My Car. What I really need is...

Yo! MTV! Pimp My Ride!

I drive a 1991 Honda CRX Si. Supposedly, this is one of the best cars ever made. Well, that's according to my old mechanic in Berkeley and this Algerian co-worker of mine. I'll often have random ethnic dudes try to buy it off me, but I like my space pod. I like to refer to it as my "rice rocket" (but not to my PC pals) because it's a pretty zippy little thing. And I can park just about anywhere.

My car's insides are good. I have a new transmission and just replaced the axles. Over the last couple years, I've put some money into making it run decently, while still maintaining maximum-zippage. The thing is, I haven't maintained the exterior, because that's some extra money I seem to spend on things like food.

Okay, so my car isn't as trashed as some I've seen Xzibit drag into the car makeover crew. But I live in LA now and I'm trying to be respectable, and my car could definitely use some pimpin'. The paintjob is embarrasing - it's a hateful teal color and even that looks like someone rubbed steel wool over it. The windshield wipers are all faded - no longer shiny & black, but now tarnished and gray. And, as mentioned earlier, the rear one is hanging off like a busted antler or something. There's some rust (aka cancer) on the sunroof and the front bumper is falling off. I was keeping it up with a rubber band for a while (a GREAT BIG rubber band) until a friend took mercy on me and screwed it into the frame, a la Frankenstein. One of the speakers has fallen out and my stereo system is so old it only runs cassettes. My glove compartment latch falls out if you touch it and I need some phat tires to go with my once-sparkling fancy chrome rims which are now starting to flake.

So, come on MTV - make me look respectable to my music biz compatriots while driving my little Honda. I don't need a fish tank or a DVD player, but maybe some Knight Rider action, lots of chrome and a booming sound system will do.

Either that, or replace the whole thing with a black 1956 Ford Thunderbird convertible. Hardtop. Yum.

Don't I Know You?

I went next door for lunch to the fancy cafe that sells overpriced (but yummy) sandwiches to rich people here in Beverly Hills. The boy working the counter looked at me kinda sheepishly and said, "Ummmm... are you an actress?" I think I may have actually blushed (this doesn't happen often) and said no. (Well, I may not be an actress, but I played one with my last romantic entanglement...)

That's the thing in LA. It's so full of not only A-list celebs, but people who have done commercials here and there, had recurring roles on network TV shows, or maybe even have done a few movies. And then there are the musicians; alot of the time, you just aren't too sure of what they look like anyway. So there is a huge number of people in this town that look really familiar, but you can't place them, exactly. You wonder, "Do I know that guy from high school?" or "Did she work in that coffee shop near my old job?" when really you know them from an MCI ad (or if you live in the Valley, a porn video).

A good friend of mine was once horribly embarrased when she was assisting a customer and she said, "Do I know you from Berkeley?" and he said, "I don't think so." He handed her his credit card and it was Zack de la Rocha from Rage Against the Machine.

This has happened to me a couple times, and it's always embarrassing, but what can you do? I've made a fool of myself in front of some guy from the Gilmore Girls, Brad Beyer of Third Watch, Shannyn Sossamon, Drew Carey (he didn't have his glasses!), AJ Benza, and that chick from The Blair Witch Project. And more that I just can't remember because... well, they aren't so famous.

Yet.

Just Can't Stop It

There are still aftershocks from the party... Today I found one the the pix of the girl with scabby knees online, along with a poem supposedly written by her.

bad poet, good times

We journeyed to a party with our smuggled drinks in hand.
We peed behind a building, and then on our knees did land.
My friend was fortunate to wear protective ripped blue jeans,
Whilst I a skirt had worn, and blood gushed forth—it was obscene!

Wow. Good thing our lawn has an automatic sprinkler system to wash away their sins the next morning...

Somebody's Watching Me

Let's have a party
Send me to the store
Let's buy some more
Let's have a party ta' night...
-Wanda Jackson

Yes, as I mentioned, we had a party the other night. And somebody I don't know took pictures. And posted them on the internet. God love the internet! So have a look, just know that none of the lovely ladies who actually hosted the event will be found within these shots. Whatever. Nice to know that everything anybody does can wind up on the internet, so behave!

The party started in a mellow, chatty way. My first bit of eye candy to arrive actually brought another hunky piece with him - how kind! Now that's a considerate guest! Seems the new guest is an actor, and if he hadn't been on "Sex & the City" once I wouldn't have known who he was at all, cuz I don't watch much network TV and he was on "Third Watch." Still, a very nice person, as were most of our guests.

Down the street was a party being thrown by Vice in their clothing store, and this party migrated to ours. Then things got nuts. There were guys from the Brian Jonestown Massacre, Urge Overkill, the Warlocks, and Lord knows who else at the bash.

I think this makes me officially an Angeleno. Yikes!

Grandpa Goat: 1913-2004

My new roommie Kerry & I had a party the other night. I think a third of LA showed up. Some chaos, minor damage and minimal theft ensued. Some enterprising folks actually shoved three beer bottles into the lawn, neck first, so that I couldn't even wiggle them a bit. Tomorrow I'm going to try digging them out. There are even pix of the darned event on the internet! These are the ones I know about...

We live in a beautiful apartment in oh-so-swanky Silverlake, where if you walk three blocks in one direction you can buy essential oils and vintage deco furniture - but walk three blocks in the other direction and someone may clock you over the head for your wallet. The best thing about the apartment, I think, would be our lovely cathedral windows which allow for a view of all of Hollywood, including the famous Hollywood sign and the Griffith Observatory. Every morning, I wake up, look out the window, and relish that view. It's ruining me for other living arrangements, I know it.

One of our earlier guests was watching the sun set from our view, standing in one of the narrow side windows (which are about 6 feet high and 3 feet wide), and asked me what the name of the tree was across the street. It's a beatiful tree which is currently in full bloom, so the base of our view now consists of a lovely purple haze of flowers. I told him I had no clue, but I sure did like looking at it.

Later in the evening, after we'd kicked out the snotty hipsters who were throwing things out of our windows and devouring the apartment, the actual posse of pals that remained continued to have a blast dancing in our living room and admiring the sparkling lights of Hollywood. As the sun came up and I was picking cigarette butts out of the lawn, I went for another look at the tree. Mmmm... it smelled nice too.

This morning I got a call from my sister to head home to San Diego - my grandfather was dying. The family turned off the oxygen when I arrived - he held on a few more hours and then that was it. My grandfather lived at the top of this big ole mountain in a place called Lakeside, California, where he kept goats and chickens and had a whole lot of tangerine trees and even a gully with a creek running through it.

After my grandfather had died, I was staring out the back door at the goats - all standing on top of boulders and things playing King of the Mountain, I suppose. I had never noticed that there was also one of those big purple flowering trees back there... I asked my aunt what it was called. "That's a Jacaranda tree. Dad planted a couple of them all around the property - it's his favorite tree."

My sister was picking off one of the blooms and sniffing it. She came back into the house and held it out: "I always love the way these smell. I love these trees." I told her that I'd just found out it was Grandpa's favorite tree - and she nodded. "Hmmm... I never knew." She crushed the flower in her fingers and let it drop.

From what I've since read about the jacaranda tree, they only bloom for a month out of the year. This one's for you, Grandpa.

Do Dat Thang

"Country music is three chords and the truth." - Harlan Howard

I don't really listen to much contemporary country music. Sometimes a track here or there will filter through, or I'll get some guidance from my bestest friend Doug, or I'll be so curious about a title that I'll look into it. There are some great song titles out there in the country music realm. And I'm completely spacing out on any of them right now, but feel free to drop me a line if you know some goodies off the top of your head.

Anyway, recently there has been a song out there called "Save A Horse (Ride A Cowboy)." If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was the name of a porn film, but it's actually by this duo Big & Rich. (Hmmm... the porn theme continues.) Well, it sounded to me like it would be a pretty stupid song. So I finally heard it, and guess what? It's a stupid song. But it's a stupid RAP song. Done over twangs and stuff.

Let me demonstrate:

"Well I walk into the room passing out hundred dollar bills and it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill..."

Phat! Nice rhymes, cowboy! And immediate mention of money; classic hip hop maneuver. Continuing:

"And I buy the bar a double round of Crown and everybody's getting down and this town ain't never gonna be the same..."

Good usage of the word "ain't to remind us that this is, after all, a country song.

"I saddle up my horse and I ride into the city, I make a lot of noise 'cause the girls - they are so pretty... riding up and down Broadway on my old stud Leroy and the girls say "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!"

Alright! Now we've got sex.

"Well, I don't give a dang about nothin, I'm singing and bling blinging..."

Can you hear the beatbox? And banjo? Hot!

"While the girls are drinking longnecks down and I wouldn't trade my old Leroy or Chevrolet for your Escalade..."

And there are the car mentions.

Well, it goes on, and there's even a spoken interlude that includes the phrase "we made love" (yes - I agree that "get busy" would have been better), but you've gotta track this tune down once just to hear how whickety whack it really is.

Just another example of the white man stealing from the black man, if ya ask me. Wild.

This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us

Los Angeles is funny... it's massive sprawl of strip malls, cars and mediocre housing - but you can still step right on top of that guy you were sleeping with not so long ago...

Case in point: I went to a local bar where a dear friend of mine was throwing her farewell party, as she hightailed it back to San Francisco after a couple years here in La La Land. In attendance was the last heartbreaker of my life, who has since ruined me for other men. (Kidding!) Anyway, we were chatting and getting a drink from the bar. I turned to head back into the main room, when who should I run into... my most recent boy toy (actually, my only boy toy) who ended things in an impulsive huff a few months back. He looked at me, I looked at him (dreamy ex still in the background), he said, "Uh, uh... oh..." I sort of laughed. He said, "How are you?" I said, "Fine... Happy birthday." (Oh, did I mention it was his birthday, and he owns the bar? Well, I didn't ask my friend to have her party there!) He graciously responded, "Well, thank you very much!" and I stepped back into the other room.

Civility rules.

I got a couple inquisitive looks from the ex/ good friends over the exchange, but all was fine. My ass wasn't getting tossed out onto the sidewalk, and we continued the festivities till the wee hours.

Funny that I've only been involved with two guys since living in LA, and there they both were on either side of me in the same moment in this gimangous city.

I've always been able to stay friends with my exes (yes, I hear that's kinda strange) but maybe you can't stay friends with boy toys. He's a very entertaining guy, but hey - he's got his reasons and I respect that.

I've just gotta watch where I go for a drink these days!

(Names and location details have been spared to protect the not-so-innocent, but my friends know who I'm talking about...)

Frodo Radio

When I worked at Amoeba Music in Hollywood, I saw and got to chat up all sorts of kinda famous types. Some of my co-workers were, as most are, "record store guys" who had been at one shop or another all of their retail lives. For those who worked at stores all around LA, they struck up friendships with some of these celebs.

A regular shopper at Amoeba was Elijah Wood (some of you may know him as the lead hobbit in that movie about a ring or something). He was pretty tight with my pal Ben, so he'd come by and goof around with Ben. Seems Elijah is a regular music dork, crazy into indie rock and electronica, and is one of those guys who wears thermal pajama tops with flowers on it and jeans and cute sneakers with a fauxhawk (probably cuz he doesn't brush his hair) that you could just run into at a coffee shop in the hipster part of town. He knew so many little tidbits about everything that when my co-worker went on a smoke break, I had him sit at the Information counter with me and dish out facts to unsuspecting customers. He had a blast. (And we bonded over this really beautiful movie called Afterlife which I don't think anyone but me, him, and the boyfriend I saw it with have seen.)

I've seen him on TV lately talking about a record label he's going to start up, but I don't think he's done it yet. What he has done, though, is conquered British radio. He's going to fill in for the legendary John Peel when Peel takes a vacation. Think he'll geek out in a British accent?

Smash It Up

Not feeling so much in the mood for writing... all that beheading in Iraq has got me down. Please register to vote and get Bush out of office? I know, I know... preaching to the converted...

My spirits have perked up by the arrival to my world of the soon to be released !!!, Louden Up Now and Pedro the Lion's Achilles Heel (wow, just in time to see that beefy Brad as Achilles in that new movie about a horse or something). I can't wait to hear 'em and tell you all about them! But right now, I'm listening to WOXY playing it's library from A-X, preparing for the "future of rock and roll" radio to become part of the past. Last day of broadcasting is Thursday, so tune in while ya can.

So Hip It Hurts

So I do booking (of bands... mostly indie type stuff) at a cool little space in a kinda ghetto part of LA called Fais Do Do. Every Wednesday, me & my pal Jenny get some cool acts in there to represent for Little Radio - an online radio station which can sometimes even be found on the actual radio! As soon as we seem to be settled into a groove, I'll tell you. That bit of things has nothing to do with me.

Anyway, we've got this coming up in the next couple of weeks:

Wednesday, May 12th: the jangly noise of the Silversun Pickups at 10:30 followed by the Alaska! brand of harmony & dischord at 11:15.

Wednesday, May 19th: Electromagnetic starts the night with guitars, organs, and harmonies around 10:30, followed by the dreamy soundscapes of Helen Stellar at 11:30.

Sound like a press release? Well, that's cuz it was.

Anyway, I am totally spacing out on who to contact. I've been sending out emails and making calls for weeks, so it is now your duty to give me some inspiration. Who should I try to track down? Who have I forgotten? Can your band fill a 150 capacity space and be rockin' to boot? Get in touch; my brain is fried.

Punks Not Dead!

Last week, the Bay Area's Fat Wreck Chords (home to the likes of the Descendents, Anti-Flag, NOFX & Tilt) released a compilation album called Rock Against Bush, Vol.1 . Here's what's on it:

01 Nothing To Do When You're Locked Away In A Vacancy* None More Black
02 Moron* Sum 41
03 Warbrain* Alkaline Trio
04 Need More Time* Epoxies
05 The School Of Assassins* Anti-Flag
06 Sink, Florida, Sink (Electric)* Against Me!
07 Baghdad* The Offspring
08 Lion And The Lamb* The Get Up Kids
09 Give It All* Rise Against
10 No W* Ministry
11 Sad State Of Affairs* Descendents
12 Revolution* Authority Zero
13 Paranoia! Cha-Cha-Cha* The Soviettes
14 That's Progress* Jello Biafra with D.O.A.
15 Overcome (The Recapitulation)* RX Bandits
16 No Voice Of Mine* Strung Out
17 To The World* Strike Anywhere
18 Heaven Is Falling* The Ataris
19 God Save The USA* Pennywise
20 Normal Days* Denali
21 The Expatriate Act* The World/Inferno Friendship Soc.
22 No News Is Good News* New Found Glory
23 Basket Of Snakes* The Frisk
24 Jaw, Knee, Music* NOFX
25 It's The Law* Social Distortion
26 The Brightest Bulb Has Burned Out * Less Than Jake f/ Billy Bragg

I ain't terribly punk rock, but I love that these guys did this, and that in the CD's first week of sales it broke the Billboard Top 200 to debut at # 54. This week it only drops a bit to #66 (argh! almost the number of the beast! how appropriate!) and continues to sell like gangbusters. Fat Wreck Chords are just a bunch of dirty punks (in the nicest way) who hate Bush, I guess, and I hope those tens of thousands of people who are buying the CD hate Bush too.

And check out more punks who are anti-Bush, and register to vote and get that idiot out of office!

Guitar Can Change the World

I have proclaimed the Pixies my favorite band of all time. About a milli-fraction behind them would be the Throwing Muses, another band I was fortunate enough to catch twice during their reunion tour last year (Tanya included for full reunion effect). Kristin Hersh continues to make music that I love (unlike any of the members of the Pixies), so I haven't felt as removed from this band as I did from the Pixies. Hell - they broke up by fax - they were that removed from each other.

My absolute favorite song by the Muses is "Two Step" from the Real Ramona album. It only has a few lines and they don't make much sense, but it's more about the intertwining of Kristin & Tanya's voices, and the lilting guitar, than anything else. Uber dreamy. I saw something called the Throwing Muses Gut Pagent in SF a few years ago, which was basically the Muses (sans Tanya) doing a show and having a party for their super dork fans, like myself. This included what they called "Throwing Muses karaoke," which had the band playing and an audience member singing along. And not badly, I may add. I wanted to do "Two Step," but I would never sing outside of my car, ever. I also DJed at KALX, Berkeley for 10 years, almost to the day, and the very last song I played on the Bay Area airwaves was "Two Step.

I love that I'm not the only one who thinks this song is so awesome. Today at McSweeney's, someone chose to wax poetic about that particular track. Mmmm, it's that good.

Said the Man To The Lady...

Things overheard at Coachella:

On the grounds: "Does a six month old baby appreciate the subtleties of Radiohead?"

In a beer garden: "Look! People on stilts! Oh, and surprise - they're headed for the rave tent..."

In the VIP section: "I asked Adam Brody (from the O.C. )for a piece of gum and he was so out of it that he just mumbled when he answered me." (for more naughty O.C. meets Coachella dish - check out our pal, Retrobuzz. Mischa getting dry humped on the lawn? Classy!)

At the Air show: "Did she pass out in her vomit, or next to it?"

Thom Yorke after playing "Creep" in Radiohead's encore: "That was for the Pixies because they requested it. The Pixies changed my life."

Near the food stands: "Okay, who said it was okay for every guy here to take off his shirt? Sometimes, it's just so NOT okay."

At the Stills show: "So, are you enjoying that $6 burrito? It looks real good..."

Near the t-shirt stands: "I went into that one tent and all I could smell was grass - both kinds."

In the VIP section: "I love Thom Yorke! I want to have 10,000 of his babies!"

The Pixies closing line: "Thanks everybody. See you at Kraftwerk later tonight!"

At the Kraftwerk show: "See? Those are robots on stage because this song is called 'We Are the Robots.'"

At the Dizee Rascal show: "I'd love to rap along with this guy, but I never know what the fuck he's saying. I couldn't even understand him when he was talking to me at the autograph tent."

At Junior Senior: "I don't know why, but I feel so gay right now!"

At Sahara Hotnights: " I know it's a cliche, but I really think Swedish chicks who rock are hot."

Just about everywhere: "Hello? Hello? Shit, I lost the signal again."

So, same time next year? Ummmm...

Run Outside In the Desert Heat...

Coachella was this weekend, that music festival that takes place in the middle of the blazing nowhere for a couple days. I should state now that I hate festivals; I only went out of the fear that the Pixies would pull a Van Halen and I'd never have another chance to see them.

My take? It was hot and there were too many people. Like 50, 000 people too many.

Bands I got to see either part or all of their sets: the Sounds, Sahara Hotnights, the Stills, Hieroglyphics, Junior Senior, the Black Keys, Death Cab for Cutie, Pixies, Radiohead, Kraftwerk, the Killers, the Thrills, Belle & Sebastian, Dizee Rascal, Air, BRMC, Crystal Method, Basement Jaxx, and the Cure.

Favorite show? Oh, by FAR, the Pixies. Duh.

Best Surprise? Kraftwerk. Go, old German guys! They were really onstage, and their heads glowed. And when they left stage, they were replaced with robots. They really do that shit! Rad. Fuck Blue Man Group.

My Celebrity Moment: Sipping a drink in the VIP section (with a couple thousand other VIPs) and having Fred Schneider of the B52s walk right up to me as if he knew me, look at me quizzically, and then look around. I smiled at him, he giggled a bit and was gone. Ok, didn't I tell you all I was a fag hag?

Thank God I had free drink tickets.

Repent!

On Friday night, the 30th of April, I was lucky enough to be one of about 450 people to see the Pixies at the Glasshouse in Pomona. I think it was some sort of serious karmic payback for something nice I did sometime, because I was struggling for a ticket to one of their few shows. The Pixies - I realized this weekend - are, in fact, my favorite band in the whole world. I figured this out when I actually started to cry during "Where Is My Mind" at the Coachella festival. After this weekend, to the best of my memory... I've seen the Pixies live about 23 times. I'm a lucky girl.

I can't tell you why I love them so much. They scream and make a lot of noise and the lyrics make no sense (they sing about UFOs and art films, for example), but whenever I hear them, I feel an almost primal urge to jump around and yell and scream and I don't care if a hundred people are doing the same thing next to me. Sometimes they are beautiful and sometimes they are nuts, but I always love them.

I have my best friend Steve to thank for this. In 1987, he called me up in my dorm room in Berkeley. "Okay, you have to do this for me." "What?" "Go to the record store and buy this album: it's called Come On Pilgrim by this band called the Pixies and it has this picture of a guy with a hairy back on the cover." So I got off the phone, bought the record, began to follow the band around the state. If they came to California, I'd do whatever it took to catch all their shows - reschedule work, sell CDs for ticket money, reschedule midterms and finals. I took my little brother to see them (with Bob Mould) when they were touring for Doolittle; he was 14 and it was his first concert. I even (and my friends have heard this story alot lately) got a greenstick fracture in my foot after going to a series of shows (I was always in the pit). The doctor told me to take it easy, but I still had to more shows to go to...

This is the setlist as I remember it for the show at the Glasshouse. I have my pal Kerry to thank for me even knowing about it. They seemed to be having as good a time as any of us. I'm so glad that I got one more chance to be just a few feet away from the band, going crazy with a bunch of other excited, worshipping fans. I actually found myself yelling "Thank you!" when it was over.

I'm still smiling.

Bone Machine
U-Mass
Cactus
Broken Face
Isla De Encanta
Crackity Jones
Hey
Nimrod's Son
Debaser
Vamos
Wave of Mutilation (Surf version)
Dead
Number 13 Baby
Tame
Gigantic
Gouge Away
Caribou
In Heaven (The Lady In the Radiator Song from Eraserhead)
Where Is My Mind?

There was no encore - they just smiled, waved and walked away...