Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Go On, Take Everything

Poor poor Courtney Love. She's been sentenced to rehab for 18 months. THANK GOD. Get this woman out of public viewing already; she's just a absolute trainwreck.

I shouldn't be so judgemental, I know. I don't know the woman and she's probably going through a very tough time, losing her daughter and having unspecified gynecological issues and everything. All I know about her would stem from personal experience. Just this one night...

I had my own encounter with Ms. Love back in December, which involved her flopping her hair extensions and body around a lot and poking people in the shoulder while yelling at them about things that no one really understood. I heard her say something about astrology once, and then get really angry at someone for walking away from her. Mind you, she wasn't talking to that person, who didn't realize that just leaving the same space as Courtney Love could destroy Courtney's delicate semblance of sanity. She’d been across the street at another club earlier, storming the stage and stealing the spotlight from the band that was already on it. (That band was one of the nicest bands in the world, Let's Go Sailing, and they wrote about their adventure with Ms. Love too.) 

The whole reason why Courtney was there at Tangiers was because the LA Weekly had written a blurb about the band performing that night - the Hard Place. The writer said something like "If you missed the White Stripes at (insert tiny dive club here) or Nirvana at (insert even tinier divier club here), then you'll feel the same way years from now about missing this show." Courtney took this to mean: "See this show because this band sounds like Nirvana." I only think this because she kept yelling, "You don't sound like Nirvana!" at points during the show, and afterwards, she rubbed up against the Sickboy-clone lead singer.

She wore yellow caution tape ripped from a construction site across her chest like a sash, a striped off the shoulder new wave top which kept falling lower than the shoulder, and a black mini skirt.   As she left the scene, she yelled “Get me back to Promises!” from the van she was being driven in. Promises is the name of a rehab center out here, but I was later told it’s not the one she was supposed to be checked into at that time. Whatever. She was everything I expected her to be – a total mess. We were all amused and frightened at the same time. 

Well, I'm glad she's getting the help she needs. And now there won't be masses of TV crews blocking traffic in front of the Beverly Hills Courthouse on my way to work in the morning.

Monday, July 26, 2004

You're Gonna Need One

Last August, I was lying on the floor in Greg Dulli's living room, drinking Maker's in the middle of the day and playing with his cat. He had some movie on (ah hell, it was probably porn) but he was really dorking out over music. He'd been playing DJ for hours. I was kinda of contributing to the conversation, but mostly these sort of afternoons were more about Greg being really jazzed on something he'd just found or just heard and he really wanted you to be equally as jazzed. This particular afternoon, he finally got the "OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS" reaction out of me that he hadn't gotten so far.

"Okay Mo, you're really gonna love this," he said, picking up a CD off the cluttered coffee table while I said, "Yea, okay" and kept on scratching Clyde. He cranked up the stereo, and a crackled bluesy old man voice echoed out... "Too tough to die!" And then a really deep groovy bass kicked in, and a woman's cackly soulful not-quite Billie Holliday voice kicked in: "I always wonder why my mama left town..."

I was no longer lying on the floor. "Dude, what is this?" Greg sat there nodding and grinning like a Chesire cat. I listened a bit more and couldn't believe how great it was... "Is this the Tricky chick? What's her name? Marina?" "Martina," Greg said, exhaling cigarette smoke and looking very pleased that I was pretty much losing it over the one song. "Yea, my band's gonna cover this song." "How?" I said. I genuinely could not see how he could possibly cover this song... it was just so... hers.

I checked out the liner notes to find that this CD, Martina Topley-Bird's Quixotic, had been released only a month or so before in England. Greg had a copy because his friend Mark Lanegan (and current collaborator on a project called the Gutter Twins) made an appearance on the CD, along with Queen of the Stone Age's Josh Homme, on the second track "Need One." The track I was currently going ga-ga over, "Too Tough To Die," was a bluesy rocker co-written and produced by David Holmes, a sort of cinematic dark hop artist of the late 90's who has gotten regular work scoring Steven Soderberg films (like Ocean's Eleven) and more recently tripping the DJ lights fantastic with sixties style blue eyed soul electro remixes.

So after that track, Greg goes, "Okay - you've gotta hear this one." He skips to a tune called "Lying" which puts Martina's voice back in the familiar context of the Tricky songs I was accustomed to hearing (and most people reading this have at least heard "Makes Me Wanna Die" from Pre-Millenium Tension). It was a pretty, contemplative number with somber beats and her breathy yet earthy voice, and words like this: "I walked out of the house in your girlfriend's clothes... They fit me better than I would have supposed..."

"Man!" Greg said. "I wish I'd come up with that. Isn't that fucking excellent?"

We listened to the whole CD, many times over, for the next couple months. I was too broke to buy the import, but he'd burned me a copy anyway and finally I saved my pennies and got one. In the meantime, I'd been turning other friends on to it. It made my Top Ten list of last year (making it at #3 - only because Throwing Muses reunited that same year and did an album which was my #2, and then that damned Greg got me addicted to his new CD, Blackberry Belle, my #1 which I still listen to far too often.)

So guess what? The album is finally coming out in the States. July 27. It's been changed a little - the title is now Anything, after the forthcoming single, a soothing, almost druggy number - and the cover is now a bit sexed up. A few of the songs have been dropped off too (so buy the import anyway). It's being put out by Palm Pictures, a label run by Chris Blackwell, who used to head Island Records - Tricky's American label. He admits that the new sexy cover shot would most likely bring it to the attention of more buyers, but I'm hoping that the sexiness of the music itself, and it's beauty, and it's style, will keep it flying off the shelves.

And by the way, Greg's band, the Twilight Singers, did cover it. They played it at shows last spring and made it so completely their own (Greg is good at that sort of thing) that's it's going to be on their next CD of cover tunes, She Loves You (August 24th).

You'll have to compare the two to hear which one is sexier. Um, don't be mad Greg - I'm going with the girl. But thanks for playing it for me!

Sunday, July 25, 2004

What's New Pussycat?

I had some interesting conversations with some of my guy friends this weekend. Mostly, we talked about pussy.

(I bet this will be the one blog entry my parents actually read. Ummm... sorry!)

I had been thinking about women and their pubic hair for about a week. I don't know why, I just started wondering what men prefer. I remember when the whole landing strip started showing up, and I thought that was so weird... One thumbsized strip of pubic hair in that whole area and that was it. Then my last roommate happened to be a very sexual young lady who was always strutting around the apartment in pushup bras and skimpy tops and lacy underwear (she really knew how to work it - there were always boys sniffing around) and I saw that she just waxed the whole thing, which was something I only thought existed in porn. Until I dated a guy for a few months who basically brought me a razor expecting the same thing. Oh, and he was really into porn.

So the other day, I was at a friend's house swimming in his pool with his brother and a friend. Mr. I, as I like to call him, was flipping through the French edition of Photo magazine when one of the ads made him laugh out loud. "Max!" he yelled to his friend. "This one has you written all over it."

He flipped the magazine around to show us a Gucci ad, which consisted of a skinny woman in her underwear, stilettos and some sort of open shirt, standing with her legs spread and slightly greased up. You can only see her from about mid-breast down, because there was a guy on his knees at crotch level pulling her underwear off, and her pubic hair was shaved into a "G."

Max asked, "Why do you think that especially interests me?" And Mr. I responded, "Well, didn't you say that you always go at a woman's pussy with a pair of clippers?" And I said, "Oh, are you one of those guys that likes it totally naked?" And he got all defensive and said, "No no no! I just like it groomed! I mean, you take care of the hair on your head, why not the hair down there? After all, I'm gonna pay more attention to the area if I want to be there." And I said, "Of course, that makes sense." And he said, "What - are you au natural?" "What do you mean by that?" "You know, just let it grow wild... just a great big hairy bush." And then I got defensive: "If that were true, you'd see it flowing right out of this bikini, wouldn't you? No, I keep myself trim, thank you very much."

Then Mr. I interjected, "You know though, it's the current wave of the twenty somethings today. All the young girls are just doing this total seventies bush." And I said, "You mean like, lots of it?" "Yep, that's what they say." So I had to ask them, "Well, what do you prefer?"

Max said that he just liked it trimmed small, but not the landing strip thing. Mr. I said he preferred "Stripper couture," which I took to mean landing strip and not totally naked because he'd objected to that earlier. And then Max said, "What is the point of pubic hair anyway?" And Mr. I said, "It's a primitive thing... it has to catch and hold scent, so that men smell it and get turned on and it gets the whole reproductive thing going."

"Ugh," said Max. "I don't want it to smell." But then I said, "I don't know, I've known guys who love the smell, if it smells right. I guess it's a chemistry thing." And Max said, "That's true, like when a girl has a little b.o. - that can smell great." Which led us to a discussion about extracting and somehow selling pheremones, and how that's probably bullshit, and how crazy it is that such a subtle smell can really cause someone to react.

And somehow, this conversation was insanely relevant to something that had happened to me just the night before. My roommate had a friend visiting from NYC, and he had another friend who was in town promoting a book. This writer is a rock critic and is a very witty, observant and hilarious spazz of a guy who was just ending his tour and looking to get away from the book stuff for a bit, so all four of us got together after the writer had finished his reading and wound up at the strip club where Courtney Love got her start. (And who knows - maybe she'll be back there again soon at the rate she's nosediving.)

After hanging out with the naked ladies, we decided to get out of LA on a Friday night and come back to our apartment in Silverlake. My roommate and her friend were making drinks and I was to give the writer a tour, but he was already in my room at the end of the hallway. I said, "Yea, I got lucky and got the big room." And he goes, "This is great. This room is really great." I thought he was looking around, admiring the hipster books on the shelves and Chinese antiques, when he said, "It just smells great in here."

I was a little taken aback, but only because I couldn't smell anything. My sheets were relatively clean and my laundry was in the basket, and I don't wear perfumes or use scented detergent, so I couldn't figure out what he was smelling. "Really? What does it smell like?" He kinda bounced a bit and looked around and said, "It just smells it smells like girl." "Oh," I said. "Ummm, well, then, here's my big ass walk in closet." And he liked that too, because my CDs and records are hidden away in there, out of display range as he said. He looked through some of my music and we talked about it a bit, and as he walked out of the closet he goes, "So it's not lotion or anything?" And I said, "No, I don't use any scented lotions really." And he goes, "Wow - great."

I guess if these talks taught me anything, it's that men are more into personal grooming than I thought. Mine, that is. Interesting...

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Mmm Mmm Good

Hey Jake-

I hear you're single now. I may not be as cute and petite and blonde as Kristin, but I am hella single. And dating older women is cool with you young hotties, right? I mean Ashton & Demi, Cameron & Justin (even though that's apparently heading south too - but let's not talk about such things right now)... you should give it a try. Besides, I'm not as old as they are.

So you're on My Space? So am I! I'll look you up and we can be pals... tee hee...


Tuesday, July 20, 2004

This & That

Well, because I am a little stressed for time, but wanted to give y'all a little something to giggle about/ contemplate/ watch while goofing off at work - I offer the following:

If Woody Guthrie were alive today : This Land Is You Land (Thanks Dad!)

A Bush/ Cheney sponsored art project for the masses gone horribly (and wonderfully) awry... the Sloganator!

Clean out your garage!

Sweating is so uncool - and now you don't have to!

Uh huh yea: PJ Harvey writes a little about making her record. Such a gal.

Could Texas be entering this century? Or do they just want their sex toys?

Now you can turn your petunias up to 11!

I was lucky enough to spend my weekend sunning and swimming and enjoying myself. However, some folks need a little extra zing to their tanning sessions. Ouch.


Friday, July 16, 2004

My Private Dancer

Today is my last day at my current position. I'm moving on to a better one (with a touch more money), and one with a whole new set of interesting issues. But let me tell you about some of my misadventures with this job.
Some of what I do during the day is handle phone calls from cracked out songwriters who may have had a hit for about 32 seconds, 18 years ago. And since one of my bosses - the guy who is supposed to handle these calls - refuses to talk to them, I get to pass on the good news that they won't be getting a check from us anytime soon. "How the fuck am I supposed to feed my chilluns, beeyatch?" "But I'm on the street; can't ya give me a couple thousand?" Stuff like that. Now they aren’t all crazy – some of the nice folks I’ve chatted up are Glenn Frye, Irene Kara, Afrika Bambattaa, and Kool (the leader of The Gang). From time to time, however, it’s also a name that I recognize responsible for the rantings on the other line...
On this particular day, it was Ike Turner.
What made this call special was that it came on my private line. That was because my boss's line was busy, and good ole Ike told the receptionist that he had better talk to the person who could interrupt that phone call, because a call from Ike Turner was more important than a call from anyone else... Damn straight! And that person was me. So as I'm telling Ike that my boss is on a conference call, he interrupts to say, "Baby, you have a beautiful voice. Is that why they put you on this phone?" "Yep, you know it." "Well, maybe I'll just come on down to the offices there and see your boss myself." I told Mr. Turner that I'd have my boss call him to set up an appointment as soon as I could.
Cut to 28 minutes later.
I received a call from our receptionist that Mr. Ike Turner was downstairs. I passed on the info that my boss was in a meeting and couldn't be interrupted, but it turned out that Ike wanted ME to come downstairs to help him out. As I came out of the elevator, I was greeted with, "Well, there's my lovely voice! And a lovely lady too..." (Sigh.) I told him my boss was in a meeting, and he said that he just wanted two things: two find out if "some woman" was stealing his money, and to meet that voice on the other end of the line. I was leaning against a counter, and pretty soon he was leaning up against the other side of me. And that man was all bling, let me tell you. He was wearing loads of gold chains, a gold bracelet the width of my hand, and a freakin' Superbowl sized ring encrusted with diamonds which I just kept imagining hitting the side of Tina's head. So he asked me if I would find out what address we had on record for him, "just in case that bitch, Beatrice, is trying to run off with my money." I said sure.
While he was rubbing my arm, I asked him if the number he'd left me earlier was a good one to call, and he said, "Oh no, baby, I'm gonna give you my real phone number. Junior!" He snapped his fingers and the guy I thought was his assistant, but turned out to be Ike Jr., ran over with a couple promo shots of Big Ike. "Which one of these do you want?" I took the concert shot instead of the still shot of him posing with a guitar. "I should have known you'd like the action shot, honey," he said with a wink. He wrote down two phone numbers. "Now this one is my home number in San Diego. And this one is my cell. That way you can reach me, anytime. Now what's your name, baby?" I told him, and he signed the picture, "To Mo, I Love Mo're (that you!), Love, Ike Turner"
I'm not sure what that means, exactly. But if you want to call Ike for any production needs or advice on the ladies, I've got his number.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

You Got to Know When To Hold 'em

This was emailed to me, so I don't know where it came from. If you do, tell me and I'll give credit where it's due. Cuz this rules.

And now...

Poker With Dick Cheney

Transcript of Joe Schmoe’s regular Saturday-night poker game with Dick Cheney, 6/19/04.

Joe: I'll take three cards.

Dick Cheney: Give me one.

Sounds of cards being placed down, dealt, retrieved, and rearranged in hand. Non-committal noises, puffing of cigars.

JS: Fifty bucks.

DC: I'm in. Show 'em.

JS: Two pair, sevens and fives.

DC: Not good enough.

JS: What do you have?

DC: Better than that, that's for sure. Pay up.

JS: Can you show us your cards?

DC: Sure. One of them's a six.

JS: You need to show all your cards. That's the way the game is played.

Colin Powell: Ladies and gentlemen. We have accumulated overwhelming evidence that Mr. Cheney's poker hand is far, far better than two pair. Note this satellite photo, taken three minutes ago when Joe Schmoe went to get more chips. In it we clearly see the back sides of five playing cards, arranged in a poker hand. Defector reports have assured us that Mr. Cheney's hand was already well advanced at this stage. Later, Mr. Cheney drew only one card. Why only one card? Would a man without a strong hand choose only one card? We are absolutely convinced that Mr. Cheney has at least a full house.

Tim Russert: Wow. Colin Powell really hit a homerun for the Administration right there. A very powerful performance. My dad played a lot of poker in World War 2, and he taught me many things about life. Read my book.

JS: Powell's extremely good at Power Point. But I would like to see the cards, or else I can't really be sure he has anything to beat two pair. I don't think he would lie to me, but ... well, it is a very rich pot.

Jonah Goldberg: Liberal critics of Mr. Cheney's poker hand contend that "he doesn't have anything". Oh, really, liberal critics? Cheney has already showed them the six of clubs, and yet these liberals persist in saying he has "nothing". Why do liberals consider the six of clubs to be "nothing"? Is it because the six of clubs is black?

Matt Drudge: ****DRUDGE REPORT EXCLUSIVE****MUST CREDIT THE DRUDGE REPORT**** The Drudge Report has learned that Dick Cheney has a royal flush, hearts. Developing ...

JS: Perhaps if you could just show me a subset of your cards which beat 2 pair? Or tell me exactly what your hand is?

DC: We will show you our cards after we have collected the pot. It is important that things be done in this order, otherwise the foundation of our entire poker game will be destroyed.

JS: I’m not so sure ...

DC: Very good. And here are my cards. A straight flush.

Judith Miller: Dick Cheney has revealed a straight flush, confirming his pre-collection claims about beating two pair.

JS: Those cards are of different suits. It's not a flush.

Mark Steyn: When will it end? Now liberal critics complain that Dick Cheney's cards are not all the same suit. Naturally, these are the same liberals who are always whining about a lack of diversity in higher education. It seems like segregation is OK with these liberals, as long as it damages Republicans.

MD: ****DRUDGE REPORT EXCLUSIVE****MUST CREDIT THE DRUDGE REPORT*** A witness has come forward claiming that Joe Schmoe engages in racial profiling in blog-linking. Developing ...

JS: Wait! It's not even a straight! You've got a eight and ten of hearts, a six of clubs, and the seven and five of diamonds. You have a ten high. That's nothing.

Sean Hannity: Well, well, well. In another sign of liberal desperation, liberals now complain that a ten high is "nothing". Does ten equal zero in liberal mathematics? That would explain a lot.

Robert Novak: It's a perfectly valid poker hand. Apparently, liberals have never heard of a "skip straight". It's a kind of straight, just with one card missing. But if you skip around the missing nine, it's a straight.

Alan Colmes: Mother says I mustn't play poker.

JS: There is no such thing as a "skip straight".

Brit Hume: It seems like some people are still playing poker like it's September 10th. Back then, you needed to have all your cards in order to claim a straight. But, as we learned on that day, sometimes you won't have perfect knowledge. Sometimes you have to learn to connect the dots, and see the patterns which are not visible to superficial analysis of the type favored by the CIA and the State Department. Dick Cheney's skip straight is a winning poker hand for the post-9/11 world.

Rush Limbaugh: Does Joe Schmoe have two pairs, or a pair of twos? First he says one thing, then another. What is he hiding?

Andrew Sullivan: Dick Cheney never said he had a straight. He was very careful about this. His cards can form many different hands. None of these hands alone can beat a pair of twos; but, taken together, the combination of all possible hands presents a more compelling case for taking the pot than simply screaming "Pair of twos! Pair of twos!" as unprincipled liberal critics of the Vice President so often do.

MD: ****DRUDGE REPORT EXCLUSIVE****MUST CREDIT THE DRUDGE REPORT**** Did Joe Schmoe claim to have "a pair of Jews"? Are they anti-Semites as well as racists? Developing...

Zell Miller: As a lifelong liberal Democrat, I believe Dick Cheney, and I hate liberals and Democrats.

William Safire: Why are liberals so obsessed by Dick Cheney's poker hand? The pot has been taken, the deal is done. If liberals are upset that we are no longer playing by the Marquis of Queensbury patty-cake poker rules, they clearly lack the stomach to play poker in the post-September 11th environment. And why do they never complain about Saddam Hussein's poker playing, which was a thousand times worse?

Christopher Hitchens: The Left won't be happy until the pot is divided up equally between Yassar Arafat, Osama bin Laden, and Hitler. Orwell would have seen this.

Ann Coulter: Why do liberals object so strenuously to the idea of conservatives having a "straight"? Perhaps because it doesn't fit in with the radical homosexual/Islamist agenda they hold so dear?

Report of the Bipartisan Commission on Poker Hands: There is no such thing as a "skip straight".

DC: I have access to poker rules that the Commission doesn't, and so I know for a fact that the cards in my hand are all intimately connected.

George W. Bush: Dick Cheney is telling the truth. I'm a nice man who would drink a beer with you.

Vladimir Putin: I dealt Dick Cheney three aces and two kings.

DC: My deal.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

In Order to Form a More Perfect Union

This was sent to me as an email, so I don't know where it originally came from. I wholeheartedly agree with its sentiments though, so will repost here and say that this person's rant is also my own.

Let anyone who wants to get married, get married. Straight, gay, knocked up or drunk in Vegas... it's their right to honor or abuse the ceremony.

We the HETEROSEXUAL People...

It seems the "war president" has officially declared war on yet another group of terrible people. He says these immoral outlaws threaten the entire concept of western civilization. That the moral thread of our society will unravel should they prevail. He says this issue is so important that we must amend the Constitution of the United States, the fabric of which our country was founded upon, to protect its citizens from the horrors that they conspire. Is he talking about Al Queda? NO. Is he talking about Islamic extremists? NO. Is he talking about his own administration? UNFORTUNATELY NOT.

The people of which he describes are homosexuals. With all the war, terror, and hate in the world President Bush has decided that two people who love and care for one another should not be allowed to solidify their commitment in marriage, or be afforded the same rights and privileges as other citizens. From the man who preaches about "freedom for all people of the world" as a precursor for war, I find this truly ironic. In his infinite wisdom and knowledge he has decided that we must amend the document which has guided the people to live in the most democratic and free country in the world, to discriminate against it's own citizens. Not only has he aliented the U.S. from the rest of the world, he now must alienate and divide our own people. He is truly a visionary.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do not see the words "except homosexuals" in the Constitution or any of it's amendments. In fact, Article 1 of the Amendments clearly states that "congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion", the grounds of which Bush uses as his argument.

If you find this whole concept as absurd as I do, and you do not want George W. Bush's name on the document our forefathers created, there are three things you must do:

1. Sign the Million for Marriage petition

2. Tell everyone you know about Million For Marriage

3. Vote Bush out of office in November!

Friday, July 09, 2004

Happy Birthday to Me

It's my birthday tomorrow, and as I've been poor for the last couple of years, there have been some treats I've wanted to get myself but haven't. You can if you want!

For curlin' up on the couch time... Some of my favorite movies. Guaranteed to make you swill your gimlet while tossing out phrases like "the twist shouldn't a been in this joint" or "baby, you're like leaves blowin' from gutter to gutter." (For more noir speak, check this page out.)

Shadows, Lies, and Private Eyes - The Film Noir Collection, Vol. 1 (The Asphalt Jungle / Gun Crazy / Murder My Sweet / Out of the Past / The Set-Up)

The Big Clock (1948)

Double Indemnity (1944)

The Bogart Collection (Casablanca/The Maltese Falcon/To Have and Have Not/The Big Sleep/The Treasure of the Sierra Madre)

In a Lonely Place (1950)

Then for some light summer reading:

Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991
Michael Azerrad

The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band
Tommy Lee, Mick Mars, Nikki Sixx, Neil Strauss, Vince Neil

Straight Whisky: A Living History of Sex, Drugs & Rock 'n' Roll on the Sunset Strip Erik Quisling, Austin Williams, Lemmy Kilmister (Afterword), Foreword by Henry Rollins

Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk
Legs McNeil, With Gillian McCain

Let It Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America's Greatest Rock Critic
Jim Derogatis

Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader
Lester Bangs, John Morthland (Editor)

And of course, music to get me through...

Mark Lanegan – Here Comes That Weird Chill
Mazzy Star – She Hangs Brightly
Sun Kil Moon – Ghosts of the Great Highway
Stills – Logic Will Break Your Heart
Camera Obscura – Underachievers Please Try Harder
PJ Harvey – Uh Huh Her
Lyrics Born – Later That Day…
Loretta Lynn – Van Lear Rose
The Shazam – Godspeed the Shazam

And thanks to my rad boss for giving me Nick Hornby's Songbook.

Cancers rule!

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Am I Demon?

You know how Glenn Danzig likes to be all badass and pretend he's Wolverine and stuff? Well, here's a funny story from a gig in Arizona that went awry the other night... Guess this happened on Monday the 5th? For video and discussion, check here.

From Danny M, of the band the North Side Kings (I've edited it down a bit):

Before crazy rumors begin to spread, I would like to explain what happened:

North Side Kings were to play with Danzig last night in Tuba City, Arizona. To make a long story short, the whole show was a disaster and a few bands got bumped off. Mr. Danzig (or his managment??) refused to push back the original scheduled time slot so North Side Kings and Rapid Fire would have to play "after" his set. Whatever- we agreed to play later because we drove 6 hours and didn't feel like going home without playing.

Needless to say, as soon as Danzig was finished, the venue turned on the lights and Danzig's crew and the staging company began to take the stage apart almost instantly. I confronted Mr. Danzig backstage while he was signing autographs and told him I thought he was an asshole because of his "rockstar" attitude and no consideration towards the FEW other bands that got bumped off tonight.

In a fit of rage he turned around and slammed me into the wall yelling, "Fuck you motherfucker!" trying to be a big toughguy in front of his fans. I, in self defense, punched him in the face - knocking him out as he was attacking me again. He went down, bleeding from his mouth, eyes rolled back, and in shock that he got knocked to the floor so quickly.

A friend happened to tape the entire incident and this is all documented. Many witnesses saw him attack me, and I did what any man would do.

It was unfortunate that this went the way it did - and I hoped Glen Danzig learned a valuable lession tonight... Do not lay your hands on anyone unless you can handle what may happen.

I apologize for nothing, except for the poor little kids that had to witness this big asshole get his ass kicked in a matter of seconds.....

See kids, another example of why steroids are BAD for you!

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Work For Love

You know that wanky British goth dance number "Everyday Is Halloween?" Hey, I loved it; still do sometimes. And you remember how the band that sang it, Ministry, later had a massive hit called "Jesus Built My Hotrod" that was all noisy industrial styled NIN stuff? I love that that happened. Al Jorgensen, leader of Ministry, cracks me up.

The way the legend goes, Al started a band and decided to do poppy goth numbers, while singing with a fake British accent, in the early 80's because he just wanted to get signed. It totally worked. The heavily eyelined, black haired (dyed, of course) kids of the era still swoon fondly to tracks like "Work For Love" and "Effigy" and "I Wanted to Tell Her" and all those fun (yet dark... brrrr...) tunes from With Sympathy.

Then a couple years later, Al came roaring out of the gates with The Land of Rape and Honey and tore out the eardrums, with an industrial screech, of all those kids (who were now getting pierced while listening to Skinny Puppy anyway)and they really appreciated it. And he kept going that route, and everyone kept buying it. No one seemed to mind that the British accent was gone.

Anyway, Al just put out a new record, and while doing his obligatory promotional push for Houses of the Mole, he's also jumping on the political platform and encouraging everyone to vote the Evil Idiot W outta office. He's a part of, and will be heading off on tour this fall. The only reason I'm telling you this is because he's offering free oral sex, kinda: "Our goal is to register 100,000 kids on the tour," says Jourgensen. "I'll do anything to entice them: sign autographs, give blowjobs, whatever."

The rest is up to you.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

I'm A Loser, Baby

On June 24th, I went to the LA Weekly Awards. This is not a big deal, as the awards are kind of a joke and the ceremony epitomizes all that is gross in the music industry. So, of course, I wanted to be a part of it.

Kidding! Kidding... kinda. 50 Foot Wave was playing, and since Kristin Hersh is one of my musical heroes, I would endure any sort of ickiness in order to see her perform. I also had friends among the list of nominees and wanted to see The Like, an up and coming young band (and I mean young... they are all still jailbait).

The line up included those bands I already mentioned, along with Patrick Park - a wonderful singer songwriter, the metal blast of Abloom (which deservedly cleared the room; ugh), host Kennedy - a glam indie rocker who usually winds up naked by the end of the night (and this was no exception - my retinas have been permanently scarred), and the ultra cool Suicide Girls. I think they have a philosophy of "all kinds of girls can strip for you - fat, skinny, pierced, tattoed" etc... but they actually just sort of writhed around between stage events and bored me to tears. (Take me to Cheetah's any ole time for the same thing; I'll gladly throw some cash on the stage for the ladies.)

The main reason why the LA Weekly music awards are a joke is because nobody gets to vote for anything. Some of the writers for the Weekly come up with a list of artists, print it for all to see, and then those same people make the decision on who should "win." There is no actual community participation in the process, at least, not that I've been able to find. This means that generally, the people you expect to win, do win, and as a result, one will spend the entire time at the outdoor bar drinking and smoking and maybe catching some of the show being projected onto the wall behind them. And most of the "winners" aren't even there to pick up their awards anyway.

I still saw some interesting people milling about... Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo was there (they got a lifetime achievement award) and I felt like I was running into him all night long. Shannyn Sossamon was also actually into watching the bands more than schmoozing. Ummm, I can't remember who else was wandering about.

My special moment of the night involved the Twilight Singers and 50 Foot Wave, both nominees (and still winners in my book) for the evening. I've sort of accidentally gotten to know both bands over the years.

After briefly chatting with Greg Dulli (and almost stealing his cherry lollipop - although Greg would never let me get away with that)and Bobby MacIntyre, we wandered inside and I finally met Sully (the bass player who took over from my friend Scott Ford on the last leg of the TS tour but also recorded on the album). Sully, guitarist Jon Skibic and I were talking when former Throwing Muse/ current 50 Foot Waver Bernard Georges approached to say hi. Sully is a huge fan of Kristin's work, and since she was out in the motorhome with her boys till their performance, Sully didn't mind meeting a fellow bass player, especially of a band he loved. Jon, a Berklee school of music grad, had been heavy in the Boston music scene and had met Bernard once before. Then 50 Foot Wave drummer Rob Ahlers approached and expressed his appreciation for the Twilight Singers, and the mutual lovefest was in full swing.

I was only too happy to be the bridge for these talented folks - how nice to know that two bands I adore respect each other as well.

And this is why I didn't totally hate the LA Weekly Music Awards. Well, that and all the booze.