Message In A Bottle

Ever check out Found magazine? It's funny. All pictures and explanations of things people found.



Neato.

A Friend In Need

More news about Dax... There is a website set up for him now, with updates on his condition as well as news about upcoming benefits and fundraising efforts. Friends who have been to visit him in Texas report that he is completely aware of his situation and determined to overcome it. Check this out:

I helped Dax finish some music for a movie soundtrack during my stay, at his request. His eyes lit up at the sight of his trusty laptop and the multicolored ProTools waves. "Dark Heart" will contain four original instrumental Dax songs. They're sublime. Music is everything to this man. There's more to come.

There are benefits being planned all over the world. Dates will be posted on the website, but here are some of the locations and artists involved.

Cities:

London, Munich, Berlin, Zurich, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Minneapolis, Chicago, and Vancouver.

Artists:

Chris Cunningham, Four Tet, Hood, members of Super Furry Animals, The Notwist, the Morr Music label, B. Fleischmann, Def Jux, Fog, Rhymesayers, Alias, Why?, SAGAN, Boom Bip, Mush records, Frog Eyes, Atmosphere, Sage Francis and more.

We love our Dax!!

Fluffy Tufts

March 14, 2005 Press release from the Cocteau Twins:

It is with regret that Cocteau Twins announce they will not be performing at the Coachella Valley Music Festival on April 30th as had been planned. Due to personal reasons, member Elizabeth Fraser has decided that she is unable to participate in the reunion, and apologies for any inconvenience that this has caused.

I had been wondering about this reunion. I always liked the Cocteau Twins, thought they were really beautiful to listen to... so dreamy! And sometimes scary. But always kind of a bedroom thing. At night. Or on rainy days. They were fun to sing along to because you could sing, or yodel, anything you wanted since Elizabeth Frasier never really sang anyway. In fact, I stopped enjoying them as much when she started singing words and stopped being another instrument contributing to the layers of sound. I saw them in 1988 and it was very nice, in a symphony hall on a college campus, very pretty.

I've been trying to figure out how they were going to do at this giant desert festival, filled with half naked and completely fucked up people, many of whom were infants when the Cocteau Twins were a defining force in 4AD's existence. Most people I know who are crazy into the Cocteau Twins are gay men, ethnic goths, and painfully intelligent girls. Will they be at the show? A skinny Asian guy shouting "Sugar Hiccup!"... A girl with cute glasses and a Buck Fush t-shirt calling for "Oomingmak!"... Or a nicely toned gay man in a white wifebeater yelling, "Frou Frou Foxes In Midsummer's Fires! FROU FROU FOXES IN MIDSUMMER'S FIRE! YEA!"

I appreciate the diversity of the Coachella lineup, and I know there were plenty of people excited about seeing the Cocteau Twins. But on a giant stage under the twilight palm trees... would their ethereal presence just waft into the air? Guess we'll never know.

Punk Rock Girl

Lois Maffeo. She's my "L."

She's pictured there with Brendan Canty, the drummer from Fugazi, who did an album with her a few years back. A really good album. Anyway, Lois used to be roommates with Courtney Love (or so the rumor goes) and she named her band after her because she was so obnoxious. Of course, Courtney threatened her with bodily harm or something, so after a couple singles, she renamed her project just "Lois." She's been around for a while, from her college radio days in Olympia championing her riot grrrrrl pals to her folksy lo-fi love rock she does these days, she's always been pretty true to herself and her punky roots. She played around with the Dub Narcotic Sound System cause she's pals with Calvin Johnson and had a band with Rebecca Gates, pre-Spinanes. So, basically, she's got lots of indie cred. Her lyrics are sweet and pointed, her songs jangly and sparse, and she's got a sense of humor. What's not to love?

Sing... Sing a Song

A couple weeks ago, my best friend asked me if I wanted to go to a birthday dinner with him. I said sure, as I always wind up having a memorable night out when I hang with my best friend. The dinner consisted of nobody I knew, except for my B.F.F., and one guy I had met one time before. There were about twelve of us. And did I mention that just about everybody at the table was gay? We were in a sushi bar in West Hollywood, acting obnoxious and having fun.

I was sitting next to a guy who looked awfully familiar, but I wasn't sure why. He was funny funny funny, and turned to me and said, "Well, I don't know anybody here, what about you?" I said, "Him," while pointing to my best friend, who was chatting up a cute guy across the table. "But I think I've been abandoned." My new pal Dan & I had a lovely evening talking about drag queens in black face, the kind of guys we want to date and then the kind we wind up with, and college rivalries. (Turns out he went to Stanford, and I went to Berkeley. Somehow, we worked through it.) Then someone asked Dan if he'd been on the "Tony Danza Show," and he replied, "Yea, he's had all of us on there. It was fun, but I'm doing a 'Will & Grace' thing next week which should be a blast." "It's about time," said another guy at the table. "They've been using you for years so they should at least pay you for it."

Oh! I thought. This guy was that kid on "Who's the Boss!" That Jonathan kid... Danny Pintauro!

We exchanged email addresses because Dan had some things to send me. I was intrigued by a "singer," he told me about, a Chinese woman living in New Zealand named Wing, who was absolutely incredible. Behold: WING.

I gave her a listen. She's the Mrs. Miller of our generation. Mindnumbingly awful and charming.

And how on top of things is Dan? Well, check out the synopsis for this week's episode of South Park:
Character tentatively called "Wing" does not speak, rather only sings songs. Wing is the only client of the South Park boys' talent agency. She is captured by the Chinese mafia and put in precarious spots. Wing recordings will be used. Go to www.wingtunes.com to hear the recordings used in this episode.

Oh yea. It's crazy cool. I'm watching for sure.

Tell Me When It's Over

Bay Area home prices hit new record
MEDIAN PRICE OF $569,000 IS NEARLY 20 PERCENT HIGHER THAN A YEAR AGO
By Sue McAllister, Mercury News

For all those waiting for any home price ``bubble'' to explode: It hasn't happened yet.
Prices of Bay Area houses rose nearly 20 percent over the 12 month period ending in February, reaching a new record median price of $569,000 paid for existing single-family houses.

	Chg. from	Median	Chg. from
County	No. sold	Feb. 04	price	Feb. 04
Alameda	934	-5.0%	$542,000	20.4%
Contra Costa	941	3.3%	$490,000	21.3%
San Francisco	246	6.0%	$701,000	14.0%
San Mateo	423	0.7%	$711,000	16.0%
Santa Clara	1,232	-3.4%	$632,000	20.4%
Santa Cruz	170	-2.9%	$720,000	30.9%
Bay Area total	4,905	-0.4%	$569,000	19.5%
Santa Clara Cty. condos	455	-1.3%	$411,000	19.1%
Bay Area condos	1,457	-7.0%	$427,000	18.9%

Of course, I left the Bay Area after 15 years... but LA home prices ain't much better. Do I still want to live here forever? Yep. It's a state of mind, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The Call of the Mantelope

I like cartoons. Not as much as my little brother, who loves them so much he's been going to the ComiCon in San Diego since he was seven and currently is working on "Madagascar." (My brother, surprisingly, is not a complete dweeb.) Anyway, cartoons can be really fun.

For a brief time in 1996, I worked for Spike & Mike's Festival of Animation. I was always a huge fan and loved some of the classics that came out of there: Nick Park's "Creature Comforts," "Bambi Meets Godzilla," "Tin Toy" by Bill Lasseter. They were always fun, sometimes bizarre, sometimes beautiful, sometimes hilarious. My sister even does the voice of one of the characters in "Hut Sluts;" she's the skinny slut.

The Mellow Manor offices are based in La Jolla, and I was home earning money between semesters after my jaunt to Europe. I worked in the office doing basic secretarial stuff and drove all over town dropping off schedules and posters. I got to intro some of the shows and play music before the gigs (all held at the La Jolla Museum of Contemporary Art). It was a blast. Till Spike came back to town.

Mike died ages ago. Spike is an asshole; it's kind of legendary. I quit because I was at a show selling t-shirts and videos when Spike pointed to me and said to the head of his promotions crew: "Stick Mo out on the street. With those tits and that ass, I'm sure she can give away a fuckload of flyers." I was back in Berkeley a week later. I'm not hyper sensitive or anything - if I thought he was kidding, I wouldn't have cared. I'm pretty lowbrow most of the time. But he wasn't - he was just an asshole.

I didn't catch the festival as much after that, but my brother kept me hopped up in warped cartoons. Some are online, some aren't. I'd encourage you to check out any of Don Hertzfeldt's stuff; he's the god of stick figure fun (for which I have a particular fondness). I dig "Aeon Flux" (not the Charlize Theron version), "Aqua Teen Hunger Force," "Sealab," Miyazaki films (although I guess that would be anime), "Rocky & Bullwinkle" and "South Park." Just about anything on Fox and Adult Swim. Online, I'm really loving the Teen Girl Squad - which is completely ridiculous. Watch Episode 8; it's my favorite so far - all about their girlband called "Kissyboots." They all die in fun ways every episode. Totally random.


And click here if you want to hear my brother do the "vocal blandishments" for a little something called "Mantelope." (Go to the index and hunt for "Mantelope.") He makes weird noises like this all the time, so he was called to create the Mantelope's signature sound. Just know that it makes him gag.

Brothers In Arms

Remember my musical countdown thing? We're at K. For the Kinks.

They were the Super Brits of the British Invasion. (This is why the mod kids still love them so, right?) The angry and dorky popster younger siblings of those other British musicians, in a way. They were actually banned from playing in the US from 1965 - 1969 by the government - too British, I suppose. The Kinks could be rowdy and obnoxious, nostalgic and introspective, nerdy or beautiful, and over the years have proven successful with many different styles. I'm a huge fan of The Village Green Preservation Society myself. Give a listen to the song "Big Sky" from that album and tell me that Robert Pollard didn't lift it for a Guided By Voices track. And I don't know anyone who doesn't love "Waterloo Sunset."

Oh yea, and don't forget about the ever dueling Davies brothers. Those Gallagher twits ain't got NOTHIN' on these two.

And they're funny. Check out this blurb taken from an interview done by Scott Cohen in Circus Magazine back in '74:

Circus: What's "Money Talks," a new Kinks song or is it an album?
Ray: It's a record being put out in the Kinks name, but in the show, the hero, or villain, which ever you like, sings that song with his floozies. Do you know what a floozie is?
Circus: No.
Ray: It's a loose lady who hangs out in bars.
Circus: Oh, I know a few floozies.
Ray: Well, "Money Talks" is their anthem.
Circus: Did you know that "Lola" is the Gay Liberation's song? It's their anthem.
Ray: No, but I had a suspicion it might be. That's nice. "Lola" is several people really. I tried to analyze it because I do think she's several people. Suppressed love.
Circus: Is it true that the Kinks feel that groupies are ruining the rock scene.?
Ray: They can't ruin the industry, but they've ruined a few musicians.

I Predict A Riot

I work in the music industry. I am not actually a peon there, but sometimes outside sources come along to remind me that really - I am. We all are, because we aren't the special few at the top f the heap. For example:

From the Music Business Registry Newsletter:

The Financial Times reported 'Warner Music, paid its top five executives more than $21m in salary and bonuses following last year's $2.6bn acquisition of the US music group by a private equity consortium.' The article continues that of the top management, Edgar Bronfman Jr, the Chairman who led last year's buy-out, received a $1M salary and $5.25M bonus. Lyor Cohen, head of the US recorded music business, received $1M and $5.24M in salary and bonus, respectively. Paul Rene Albertini, head of Warner's international operations, was paid $1.25M in salary and a $3.15M bonus. Departing Warner/Chappell CEO, Les Bider, received a $2.44M total payment. These payouts include further guaranteed bonuses or change of control payments. According to documents filed with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, last year's total executive remuneration was more than three times higher than Warner Music's $7M operating income for the 10 months to September 30th.

The management payments reflect Warner's success in cutting costs following last year's sale of the Music Group by Time Warner. The company expects to deliver $250M of annualized savings by May this year, achieved mainly through 1,600 job losses. What is so truly disturbing here is that it speaks volumes about the value system of an owner of a company that would pay its top-five Record Executives more than three times the amount of operating income for a ten-month period while dismissing 1,600 employees. What the article failed to mention was that in addition to the employee layoffs, Warner Music Group also dropped 93 of the 193 artists signed to Warner Labels in the US, approximately 47% of the artist roster during this same period.

And then this Saturday in the LA Times:

In the year since Warner Music Chief Executive Edgar Bronfman Jr. and his fellow investors bought the once venerated company, they have eliminated 1600 positions, pared wages, slashed investments in new artists, shut offices and quadrulped employees' health insurance premiums. The reason: They've been getting the company ready for Wall Street. On Friday, Warner filed papers to raise as much as $750 million through an initial public offering of stock, ending months of speculation about the compnay's future. Warner Music said it would use the IPO proceeds to pay down part of its 2.5 billion debt load and for general corporate purposes.

I highly suspect this still means I won't be getting a raise any time soon...

Breathe In, Breathe Out

A nice weekend for the rock here in LA... The Futureheads played on Friday, and the roommie says it was a fun show and that the band are terribly nice guys. So if you never got to see XTC before Andy Partridge got all diva on your ass, try the Futureheads. Nice lads who are good at what they do. Saturday night we went to check out Kasabian opening for the Music. As I'm not super into the Music, we didn't stay long for them. Kasabian was a lot of fun, but would have been a hell of a lot funner had it been 3 am and we were candy flippin' or somethin' - if you know what I mean (nudge nudge). I think the crowd has been 50/50 on their music and the show, but my friend and I thought they gave it their all and sounded awesome even if they weren't playing in a warehouse in Madchester.

And tonight, indie rock gods Slint... the precursor to Tortoise and the Rachels and June of 44 and their ilk... I think I was one of 7 girls in the crowd of 1500 or so. And the other six girls had been dragged in by their boyfriends. They were terrific, in that slow, plodding, just about ready to explode way.

But I am a girl, so I was completely distracted by the fact that Gavin Rossdale was standing a few feet away, rocking out (as much as you could rock out to Slint). That man is just too damn beautiful! Oh, it's embarrassing. I've seen him around town a few times (always sans Stefani) and he's gorgeous every time. I could just imagine him telling Gwen he was going to the show: "Oh Gwen, I'm heading out with Mike to the Slint show." "Slint? Is that the new line of Urban Decay makeup? Ooh, maybe I should go!" "No, sweetheart, Slint is a heavy indie rock band from Kentucky who made a couple of staggering mathrock guitar albums in the early 90's and influenced... well, nevermind. Have fun with the harajuku girls." "Okay, honey!"

All Around the World

To iPod or not to iPod - that is the question.

I don't own an iPod. Blasphemy! you cry out... Well, it's true. I don't own one. I never had a discman either, but I did have a walkman until about 3 years ago. I used to DJ on a radio station and made many tapes over the years of my shows and could listen to them on my walkman while I was on the bus to or from work, or while I was walking the couple miles home from work if I decided to do that.

For Christmas this year, my father gave me a gift certificate towards a large electronics purchase of my choice. "I thought maybe you'd want an iPod, " he said. My dad is kind of a gadgety guy, and is very computer savvy. So is my brother, who got an iPod from his girlfriend and immediately filled it with a hundred million songs, or however many it takes before it gets maxed out. So I asked my brother, "When do you use it?" "Well, on the plane, or at work, or I just hook it up to my computer when I'm at home." Thing is, my brother works with computers - he's on them all the frikkin' time. And he travels more than I do, and takes public transportation in the city where he lives (San Francisco). I know people all over the planet have iPods and love them.

Basically, I'm trying to envision when I would actually use the damn thing. I don't work out, so I wouldn't use it in the gym. My drive to work is about 40 minutes, so I usually pop in a CD and listen to it and that's about it. At work, I listen to online radio stations like KALX, KEXP, WOXY or Little Radio. When I'm at home, I listen to my records or CDs.

A lot of my friends who have them are over them already. It feels kind of like a fad to me, actually. I noticed that one friend of mine had his iPod sitting on a table in his office for months. "Don't you use your iPod anymore?" "Nah, it exploded or something." "Well, can you get it fixed?" "I don't care about it that much." Another friend had incorporated the iPod into his DJing; imagine having 10,000 songs at your fingertips as well as whatever records and CDs you carried? I thought that seemed pretty cool. But he gave that up because the sound wasn't right, and it didn't work so well after all - at least for him. I've seen Jason Falkner do a couple shows backed by an iPod - he recorded all the other parts ahead of time and then played with himself. At one show, the iPod skipped or some other malfunction, and he quipped, "Damn band!"

So I think I'll use this gift certificate to get a compnonet piece for my stereo that allows me to burn my records & tapes to CD. I think I could also do this if I tricked out my computer, and neither method seems very forgiving (like cassettes are), but in my case - it seems most practical.

Or maybe I could just do like this guy (Indian Spiritual Guru, His Holiness Sri Ganapati Sachchidananda Swamiji, Mysore, India) and use my iPod to power my spiritual healing.

Radio, Life Transmission

Well, I could call out when the going gets tough
The things that we've learnt are no longer enough
No language, just sound, that's all we need to know,
to sychronise love to the beat of the show
And we could dance
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio... Joy Division

There is a radio station here in LA called Indie 103. When it started, I was filled with distrust. It sounded good: lots of Pixies, Interpol, Queens of the Stone Age, Le Tigre, Bauhaus, LCD Soundsystem ... alternative type stuff that I like. But the Pixies on commercial radio? I figured it was just a ploy - that they were trying to lure me in and then they'd start with the Good Charlotte and Unwritten Law. And then they brought in Steve Jones (whose tag line is "formerly of the Sex Pistols") to do the lunchtime show, and he was a rambling mess of a DJ. Ugh.

The rumor mill around Indie 103 said that it was a pawn of Clear Channel, the radio beast that already owns the legal limit of stations in LA. This was kind of true - the station, owned by Entravision, entered into a deal with Clear Channel which allowed the giant to sell the ad time, bundling it up with time on their higher profile stations, which would profit both entities. Michael Steele, the program director of Indie 103, came from a Clear Channel station. There was also talk that the whole reason CC got involved in this deal was to take listeners away from alternative mainstay KROQ, owned by rival Infinity. In fact, although Indie 103's signal is weak compared to the KROQ monster, the last posted ranking did show that it has won the coveted 25-34 market.

Thing is, Indie 103 stayed interesting. Steve Jones got really good. I was listening to commercial radio. Not all the time, but it was one of the three presets I bother with on my car stereo. After eons on the left end of the dial, it was shocking to me that I could like a commercial station that much... A good friend was visiting last October, and as we drove around on October 30th shopping for Halloween costume gear, we heard the Dream Syndicate's "Halloween" on the radio. He was floored. When was the last time you ever heard the Dream Syndicate on commercial radio? Never?

The thing I hate about deregulation is that one company can own a whole lot of radio stations, and then they import all the same programming into them. So listening to a commercial station in LA is basically the same as listening to a station in Philadelphia which is the same as listening in Austin. Cookie cutter format - all the pop stations have the same playlist, as do the hard rock, alternative, urban, and so on...

Indie 103 actually became very LA. You hear local bands in the mix (Autolux, Earlimart, On the Speakers, Rilo Kiley), they have a country show (with more local acts like Soda & His Million Piece Band, Susan Marshall, John Doe), an alternative Latin music show, and a dance show (hosted by the Crystal Method). The station also picked up some local personalities to do some DJ time, and in this town, that means celebs. Courtney Love hosted an evening show for a while during her rehab period, Henry Rollins too, Rob Zombie, Danny Masterson (That 70's Show guy), and Nina Blackwood (yes, she's still alive, and has the same hair), for example. One night, Jane Wiedlin was guest hosting and proclaiming herself a member of the Church of Slushitology - "more booze, less guilt." Wonderful.

And the programming got very wacky, in a good way. Steve Jones is a big fan of early Roxy Music, it turns out, so I would love to hear the early 70's British glam or first wave ska he'd throw on. You could hear the Plugz or the Weirdos on Rollins show, maybe even get to hear Dolly Parton's "Me & Little Andy." There's nothing creepier. One morning, my alarm went off to Shaun Cassidy. In my world, that's a GOOD thing.

But the party is over for Indie 103, as the FCC is actually enforcing its own rules and has interpreted said rule in such a way that the business deal Clear Channel has with Entravision means they are part owner, giving them interest in 9 stations, which they can't do. By April 1st, Clear Channel's involvement with Indie 103 will end. Which leaves Entravision with the question: to continue on as an alternative channel, or go for the big bucks chasing the ethnic market? Spanish-language stations make a killing here, and the radio gossip boards are predicting a Korean station.

Oh well - I'd finally warmed up to it, and now it's going away. I guess we couldn't trust it after all?

School Ain't Shit - I Read It In A Book

Okay, I didn't write this - I just think it's funny. And my parents are both teachers, so I'm trying to do my part.

FUCK YOU

Perhaps one of the most interesting and colorful words in the English language today is the word "fuck". It is the one magical word which, just by its sound, can describe pain, pleasure, love, and hate. In language, "fuck" falls into many grammatical categories. It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John). It can be an action verb (John really gives a fuck), a passive verb (Mary really doesn't give a fuck), an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in John), or as a noun (Mary is a terrific fuck). It can also be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date with Mary). It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".

Aside from its sexual connotations, this incredible word can be used to describe many situations:

1. Greetings "How the fuck are ya?"
2. Fraud "I got fucked by the car dealer."
3. Resignation "Oh, fuck it!"
4. Trouble "I guess I'm fucked now."
5. Aggression "FUCK YOU!"
6. Disgust "Fuck me."
7. Confusion "What the fuck.......?"
8. Difficulty "I don't understand this fucking business!"
9. Despair "Fucked again..."
10. Pleasure "I fucking couldn't be happier."
11. Displeasure "What the fuck is going on here?"
12. Lost "Where the fuck are we."
13. Incredulty "UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!"
14. Retaliation "Up your fucking ass!"
15. Denial "I didn't fucking do it."
16. Perplexity "I know fuck all about it."
17. Apathy "Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?
18. Suspicion "Who the fuck are you?"
19. Panic "Let's get the fuck out of here."
20. Directions "Fuck off."
21. Disbelief "How the fuck did you do that?"

* ed. note - my favorite was left off the list, so I add it for you now: Fuck you, you fucking fuck! Now that's got it all, doesn't it?

And now for the good news...

A little more about my dear friend Dax - for those checking in:

******************************************

The latest update on the Dax front is that he is now going to move on to the next stage in his recovery process. This will be happening at The Institute for Research and Rehabilitation in Houston, Texas. They are expecting him sometime next week. You can check out them out at their website: http://www.tirr.org.

This is an excellent facility, one of the foremost in the world... people come from all over the US and the world to recover here. Dax is going to be in very good place and receiving the best of care. So, there is now a new address:

The Institute for Rehabilitation and Research
Attention: Dax Pierson
1333 Moursund,Unit 5
Houston, TX 77030

We don't have a room number yet. But mail should get to him. They will not forward mail from the ICU in Omaha (it will be returned to you, however). And, as a last note, www.daxpierson.com should be up on Monday, where you can sign up for email updates, get the latest, and, soon, donate if that is within your means.

Love & Peace.

Hooray for Hollywood

You know, in this day and age of instant internet accessibility, I've noticed how obsessed we are with "nip slips." You know, some extra accidental bit of cleavage (or in Tara Reid's case - accidental full on frontal). So I thought I'd post this little pic that I've always enjoyed of Sophia Loren giving Jayne Mansfield (mother of Mariska Hargitay) the eye because of the cut of Jayne's dress. The "too much" cut of Jayne's dress. There are plenty of photos from this particular night which are pretty amusing and feature Jayne's nipples - but I think this one not only conveys Sophia's mood at the moment, but also the mood of the collective internet community when we get a glimpse of Brit Brit's ta-ta, yet again.

An Update on Dax...

Thanks to everyone who got in touch after hearing about Dax. There is news of him which is being made to the public via Subtle's various websites, so here is the latest from Adam "doseone" Drucker:

To all those who are concerned,

On Thursday February 24th at approximately 1 a.m. in Atlantic, Iowa, our tour van hit "black ice" and overturned off of the highway 80. There were seven of us aboard, we were doing 40 miles per hour and slowing down. Patrick Scott was driving the vehicle when it hit the stretch of "black ice", which caused us to skid out of control. Patrick temporarily regained control of the vehicle only to be pulled off the highway by the weight of the equipment trailer we were towing. Fortunately for us, the weight of the trailer then saved all our lives by stopping the vehicle from rolling over multiple times.

The crash was 10 seconds long. All of us were wearing our seat belts except for Alex who was lying down in the back seat. We all hit against the roof of the van upon impact. Six of us sustained minor cuts and bruises. Dax Pierson, however, broke his neck upon impact. His head was then pinned beneath the front row of passenger seats. Upon dislodging his foot from what looked to be an unnatural position, Dax's air passage way was cleared and he began to breath and communicate with us. He told us immediately that he could not feel his lower body. We were met quickly by another motorist, the local sheriff, and an EMT team. The EMT's and firefighters carefully removed Dax from the overturned vehicle. He was then taken to Cas County hospital in Atlantic, Iowa. One hour later he was emergency air lifted by helicopter to Creighton University Hospital in Omaha Nebraska for X-rays and treatment.

(In a 15-minute window three trailer trucks and another passenger van all overturned on the same 10-mile stretch of highway and black ice.)

Dax is currently recovering at Creighton University Hospital in the intensive care unit where he will remain for the next three weeks at least. Fortunately Dax is completely covered by his health insurance provided by Amoeba Music in Berkeley California. So all of his care is being paid for and will continue to be covered through out his healing process. Both Dax's mother and father were contacted as soon as possible and arrived at the hospital in Omaha within 24 hours.

Dax shattered his c5 vertebrae, which is located at the base of the neck. When his vertebrae shattered it bruised his spinal chord and caused severe swelling around the c5 and adjacent vertebrae. His broken vertebrae were his only injury. Dax is currently experiencing paralysis from his nipple line down. His paralysis is very severe the muscles used to breathe and operate the lungs are located below the nipple line. As a result he is on a ventilator to help him breath. The ventilator is a tube that runs through Dax's mouth and into his lungs to facilitate respiration. It‚s presence coupled with Dax's inability to use his hands makes communication for Dax very difficult at the present time. Dax has remained conscious and cognizant throughout the entire process.

While broken bones can be mended, the spinal cord does NOT regenerate itself. There is new research into ways this might be achieved - specifically stem cell research - and a good many of these avenues of research are very promising. For now, however, we can pray for a miracle - and miracles DO happen - while at the same time learning to deal with the reality of Dax's new situation

On the 25th at 10 am Dax was taken in for surgery. His 4th and 6th vertebrae were fused in order to create a functional neck for Dax. All broken bone debris was removed and the spinal chord where his c5 broke was encased in a cage of sorts that will protect it and allowed the 4th and 6th vertebrae to be fused on either end of it. The operation was successful and there were no complications. Since then the swelling around the injury has decreased.

Dax's injury is now contained and the healing process has begun. The first major hurdle is to have Dax heal enough to be taken off of the ventilator. If this happens he will be given a tracheotomy. The tracheotomy will enable Dax to move his lips and communicate with those caring for him.

This step will be huge for his mental and physical comfort and will take all the strength and love he and those who cherish him can provide in the coming weeks. The end of Dax's stay in intensive care will hopefully coincide with him being weaned off of the ventilator and being given the tracheotomy. Due to the "open" or intensive nature of the surgery Dax underwent to have his vertebrae fused, that wound must heal completely and be free of infection before they can open a new wound when giving him a tracheotomy.

After his stay in intensive care Dax will be moved to a rehabilitation center for the rest of his recovery. It will most likely be in Texas as to be close to his mother who will be caring for him through this most difficult leg of his recovery. The rehabilitation process could range anywhere from 2 to 24 months. The process will be long and challenging for Dax, his strength, and the strength of those around him, both near and far.

In case it is unclear...Dax's mind is completely healthy and everything above his nipple line is in perfect working condition, so he can shrug his shoulders and move his arms slightly, it is only the presence of the ventilator tube in his mouth that prevents him from communicating verbally. His eyes are wide and his heart is strong.

To all of you who are sending him love and prayer, keep doing so it is working, and all of our concern and love remains utterly necessary. The physical healing process for this type of injury takes serious time patience and courage.

We are now organizing/preparing for Dax's immediate future care and rehabilitation as well as fund raising benefits. We appreciate everyone's patience as we prepare for the long road ahead of Dax. It will be important for all who love him to be present and offer aid not only while the tragedy is before us but when recovery is before us as well.

And recovery may be some time from now. As a result we will be establishing a web site for Dax that will allow everyone to enter his or her contact information for future contact and aid. This site will also provide health update information as it becomes available to us.

As you can imagine Dax's care, healing, treatment, and return to his "normal" life will be very expensive. We will do our best to keep all those concerned updated on both his health and how they can help, in the form of both monetary donation and sheer love.

There is a crowd of beautiful people gathering behind Dax... The overwhelming outpouring of love and concern for him has already begun to work its magic on his mental and physical strength...so please keep it coming...and thank you all.

This just in:
March 2nd: dax was taken off of the ventilator...he is now talking and smiling.

All flowers cards and positive thoughts can be addressed to:

Dax Pierson
c/o Creighton University Hospital
601 N. 30th St.
Omaha, NE 68131

(402) 449-4000

This Must Be the Place

There's no place like home:

FR: Paramount Pictures, TV
RE: Wildlife

This one hour pilot for the UPN network is a comedy-drama about a group of twentysomethings in the hip Hollywood community of Silver Lake, some of whom play in a band.

Scene: as Kevin Bacon is being interviewed, a surreal moment occurs in which Kevin is mouthing the words to the song as it is playing on the jukebox.

Yea, I live in Silver Lake. So does Karen O of the the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Greg Dulli of the Twilight Singers/Afghan Whigs, and - currently - Inxs. There are tons more artists, actors, musicians, designers and such who live in this neck of the woods and I just can't think of who they are right now. But you know what? LA is a big place, and those types live all over town.

Silver Lake does attract the hipster element though. A few months back, local (read:Silver Lake) band Rilo Kiley did an instore performance which had the biggest draw Amoeba Hollywood has ever seen. When talking with some former co-workers about it, I said, "Man! I don't understand why this was so packed! I mean, they're just a local band." And my friend said, "Hey, I thought it was great. I cruised over to Silver Lake and robbed a few houses because everyone was here." Another friend of mine hates the cool crowd so much that he asks me to refer to my neighborhood as "Los Feliz adjacent," referring to the almost as hip, but a bit more upscale area just slightly west. I listen to WOXY.com while at work, a station based out of Cincinnati, and every time they play Earlimart or Autolux, they precede it by saying, "From the trendy Silver Lake part of Los Angeles..."

I love Silver Lake. I love the mix of boutiques, crazy thrift stores, cafes, bars, taco stands, church socials, and used car lots. I love my view of the Hollywood Hills and everything down below them. I love that the two gay men who bought the place a few doors up have done some crazy landscaping, and that the Mexican family of a twenty across the street blasts ranchero music at dinner time just about every day. I love the murals. I like the farmer's market. I love the church bells that ring on Sundays. I like to walk around the hills and look at the houses that were either built in the 1910s or the 1970s. I even love the "Silver Lake," which is actually a reservoir which is fenced in and no one can even get to... but you can look at it.

There's a lot of history here too - the Hollywood kind. Hollywood isn't right along the coast like most people may think, it's actually about 20 miles east. Back in the day, early film tycoons built their fancy homes east of Hollywood in Silver Lake, Echo Park, and Pasadena. They filmed stuff out here too: Laurel and Hardy did their infamous "Music Box" talkie here, lugging a piano up & down & up & down some equally infamous stairs,
and the house where Barbara Stanwyck's femme fatale in Double Indemnity lives with her soon-to-be late husband is just up the hill from the reservoir. Raymond Chandler even wrote about it and it later showed up in Bogie's The Big Sleep, under the pseudonym "Gray Lake." Rudy Valentino supposedly had a little cabin in the hills for his "boys only" events, as did other celebrities when entertaining same sex situations, earning us the nickname of "the Swish Alps."


Anyway, I like the neighborhood despite it's stigma of total hipness. I am not a total hipster, just a little. I like alternative music, I have earrings made out of guitar picks and a belt stolen from a Cadillac, and I know lots of people in bands... but that alone does not a hipster make. About a year ago, my roommate was living a few blocks away and got trapped on her street because Aaron Spelling was in town filming a show about hipsters, and now it's finally hitting the little screen. I'm very curious to see how my hood will be represented (or, rather, misrepresented). It reminds me of the time I went to visit my relatives in Colombia and they were disappointed that I didn't talk like Pauly Shore.

So Silver Lake is coming to a television set near you. And evidently, Kevin Bacon will be there too.

That's Entertainment

J is for... The Jam.

Quite simply, the Jam is one of the best bands ever. Intelligent lyrics, catchy tunes, quality musicianship, Paul Weller's stellar blue eyed soul voice tinged with workingman's anger... They burned bright for a bit and flamed out. As they should have.

So I leave you with their words, still meaningful today...

Some people might get some pleasure out of hate
Me, I've enough already on my plate
People might need some tension to relax
Me, I'm too busy dodging between the flak
What you see is what you get
You've made your bed, you better lie in it
You choose your leaders and place your trust
As their lies wash you down and their promises rust
You'll see kidney machines replaced by rockets and guns
And the public wants what the public gets
But I don't get what this society wants
I'm going underground...

This One's For the Sexy People

DO YOU HAVE THE ULTIMATE BEDROOM VOICE?

MAXIM AND SIRIUS ANNOUNCE OPEN CASTING CALLS TO FIND 'THE SEXIEST VOICE IN AMERICA'

Winner Will be Featured in Maxim Radio Promotional Spots and IDs and Receive $1000

NEW YORK and LOS ANGELES - Are people willing to pay to listen to your voice? Do total strangers call your answering machine over and over again just to hear you say you're not home? Then Maxim Radio wants you!

Maxim Radio, heard exclusively on SIRIUS Satellite Radio, is holding simultaneous open casting calls in New York City and Los Angeles to find the "Sexiest Voice in America" on Wednesday, March 2nd.

Here is one contest where it does not matter what you look like, how you sing or if you can kiss up to Donald Trump! One sultry woman's or smooth-talkin' man's voice will be featured on Maxim Radio promotional spots and IDs while taking home a cool $1,000.

Contestants are invited to bring 30 seconds of their own material to read at the auditions - it can be anything from self-help to War and Peace (as long as there is no cursing or vile language).

Maxim Radio celebrity hosts will comment on the entries in terms of sexiness, uniqueness, delivery, tone and suitability for use. Beginning March 7, 2005, visitors to Maxim Online (www.maximonline.com) for one week will be able to hear audio clips of the finalists' entries and click their votes. The winner will be announced on Maxim Radio on Monday, March 21, 2005.

Bud Light is the official sponsor for Maxim Radio's search for the "Sexiest Voice in America."

Contestants can bring their sexy voices to either one of the two casting calls:

* NEW YORK CITY: SIRIUS Satellite Radio, 1221 Avenue of the Americas (at 48th Street). Auditions start at 9 am ET. No more people will be allowed on the audition line at 2 pm.

* LOS ANGELES: House of Blues, Sunset Strip. Auditions start at 11 am PT. No more people will be allowed on the audition line at 3 pm.

Contestants must be at least 21 years old to enter and legal residents of the United States. The casting calls occur rain or shine.

**I'm gonna go and read the lyrics of "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard. What do you think?

For Dax, My Friend.

From Lex Records:

"The Subtle tour bus was involved in a road accident on the way from Denver to Minneapolis on 24th February. Dax Pierson was injured in the accident and has been taken to hospital in Omaha. The last news we had was that Dax was awake and in intensive care. Our thoughts are with him.

The other members of the band (Adam Drucker, Jeffery Logan, Alex Kort, Marty Dowers and Jordan Dalrymple) are very shaken but not seriously injured. The band were at the start of their 2005 North American and European tour which was scheduled to last until May. All forthcoming Subtle shows are postponed until further notice."

Dax, it turns out, was pinned under the band's equipment after their bus flipped on an icy road. Some of his vertebrae were shattered. He is going to live, but will most likely be a paraplegic.(*As of 2/28/05 - Dax will most liely not be able to move anything at all below the neck.) This has opened up a whole train of thought for me about quality of life, that whole Christopher Reeve crusade, at what point can you choose to say goodbye to your friends, etc... a whole bunch of things I didn't think I'd be thinking about while preparing for a fancy little party with some friends.

The accident happened Thursday, although most of us didn't know the details until his parents had been contacted. Dax is an incredible human being, ridiculously talented and sweet, one of the cuddliest bears in town, and an all around star. I know he's not reading this, but it feels right to put my thoughts, and the thoughts of his many friends, out there... to say he fucking rocks, and we all want what is best for him and that we love him. You never take shit from anyone or anything, so don't let that stop you now.

To Dax.

Down In It

10050 Cielo Drive, Beverly Hills. Mapquest it - that's the Tate murder house. Where the Manson gang did their deeds. Actually, you can't Mapquest it because it got torn down 1994, and now the closest thing to it is 10066 Cielo. The last person to live in the Tate house (and she & Roman were only renting anyway) was Trent Reznor while he was recording The Downward Spiral. Rumor has it that he stole the door that had been graced with the word "PIG" spelled out in Sharon's blood when he heard the place was being torn down.

Anyway, I bring this up because it is one of those Hollywood legends, but people forget about Sharon Tate otherwise. Not that she was a great actress or anything, because she wasn't, but she is rarely identified as anything other than a tragic murder victim.

There is an exhibit in LA that is ending this Saturday which you should check out if you want to see her in another light... Photographs of Sharon, I think taken on the set of The Fearless Vampire Killers. They were taken by Roman Polanski and, quite simply, are just sweet and beautiful. I'm going to actually use the word "enchanting" in association with them.

There is also a series of shots taken by Jay Sebring (hairdresser and fellow victim) the week before the murders. They show friends frolicking by the pool, Sharon happily displaying her 8 months of pregnancy, stuff like that. Peeking into someone's life... you know.

And then in the back room: the crime shots. See Sharon sliced up, because that's how we remember her, unfortunately... Dreamy and scary, all at once, kinda like Hollywood.

Up On The Catwalk

While in Florida this past weekend, I watched a marathon of "Project Runway." I'm not a fan of reality TV, but it was on because my friends were hooked. And their two year old really loves it when a montage is shown of people working, and then it's sped up. This just makes him laugh and laugh... So, in this environment, I fell victim to "Project Runway."

I didn't want to watch this show because, really, I'm surrounded by enough melodramatic divas in my life without having to resort to watching them on TV. And while there was definitely some of that action, I found myself sucked in by... the pretty clothes. That's right. If I had the cash, I'd be a fashionista. Since I don't, I'm simply a Mervynista. Oh well.

The ideas were fantastic, more often than not. And it gave me some girly insight to myself: watching what I liked, realizing it was already kind of my style, and re-iterating that I am a big ole fag hag. I got home from a work function this evening, chatted on the phone, fixed some dinner, and flipped on the TV... the very last episode of "Project Runway" was starting. Oooh, and Parker Posey was a guest host. (That girl will do ANYTHING, won't she?) I was in.

The winner was Jay, a gay (surprise!) guy from Pennsylvania who designed sort of intergalactic ski wear. I liked his stuff, he was cool. As always seems to be the case with fashion, I doubt I - or anyone I know for that matter - would actually ever wear his stuff in public, but it was fun to watch.

During commercials while I flipped channels, I came across an episode of "Doggyfizzle," only one of the greatest TV shows ever. Snoop Dogg and all his zany stoner pimp action? How many times can you use the word "ho" in one show? (I'd use "bitch" as an example except that we all know Dave Chappelle has stolen that crown from Snoop by now.)

Where am I going with this... how on earth can Snoop Dogg and "Project Runway" have anything in common... Well, this weekend in Florida, the twain did meet. In a strip mall, there was a clothing store called "Fashizzle."


Oh yeah. Dat's da shiznit.

Gettin' Jiggy

Have just flown from the Golden State to the Sunshine State and back. That would be from California to Florida, for those of you not hip to state nicknames. I flew out to Melbourne, Florida for a looooong overdue visit with some dear friends who have gone and had a baby (who's two) since I saw them last. And because I spent four days catching up and immersing myself in the Wiggles and Sesame Street (dude, I am all about those wacky Aussie Wiggle guys now), I was totally out of touch with anything happening in the rest of the world.

So imagine my surprise when I flew back to LA (after several storm delays due to actual weather in Atlanta) and found that the biblical rains had struck again! This time, the 101 freeway by my house was shut down because it was flooded with nearly three feet of water! That's more than half my size. Nuts.

And that Hunter S. Thompson had gone gonzo on himself with one of his many guns! I'm surprised he lived this long, but he sure did keep things interesting on his journey here.

Anyway, the weekend in Florida was pretty mellow. I was in a sleepy little beach town, chock full of strip malls and the ghosts of hurricanes past. Like this past summer. There were still torn up fences, missing signs, and patches of buildings waiting to get fixed... and I'm not slagging them: in the Bay Area, they are still fixing up after that Loma Prieta quake in '89.

We went to the beach and ran around, went to check out the manatees (which I didn't get to see, but they're about the size of an Escalade and like to cruise to the piers to say hi), fed a giraffe at the zoo, and hit up a Catholic school fundraiser. Mostly, it was great to just hang out with my friends - hopefully they'll return to our rockin' earthquake state once they are able to shake those hurricanes. Hell - why should I try to convince them to leave? They can actually buy a house in their state!

Perhaps the mellow weekend was to prepare me for my apocalyptic return into hel-La, with waters raging and work stressouts and journalistic suicides all around. Hmmm... wonder if any of that rates on the Rapture index? Just in case any of you were thinking about the end of the world while fishing your car out of that sinkhole on your block.

White Punks On Dope

There's this thing that happens in Northern California every year called Burning Man. You've probably heard of it. It started out as a gathering of crazy bohemian types out in the desert putting up all sorts of random, temporary art to stare at while taking acid. It has since become a gathering of people who want to get naked, do drugs, act like losers, and break stuff while out in the desert with 50,000 other people who are interested in the same thing. Last year my brother went. I teased him about it; he said he'd been forced to go. Someone bought him a ticket. So he decided to brave the desert heat, lack of water, dust, raves from dusk till dawn, drunks vomiting on other people's stuff, people on drugs running over other people's stuff (not actually people - this year; that's so 2000), and people you don't want to see naked... all for the art. He said the best thing about it was the art and the patchouli smelling hippies, who were really nice.

So I asked him about this picture. "What's up with the Barton Fink get up and the sign?" (If you can't see the sign over his head, it says: "Come on in and have a nice warm cup of... SHUT THE FUCK UP!")



He responded: "That pic was at Burning man, it was a morning after shot- the place I was at I called 'Punk Rock Pancakes' because they served pancakes every morning but they were really surly with you the whole time, and you had to take your pancakes however they made them, the butter had dirt in it, and sometimes they would put cereal or goldfish crackers or mixed salted nuts in your pancakes, and they would mix the most disgusting drinks ever and make random people in the line drink them while they yelled at you. They were cool, thus the title 'Punk Rock Pancakes.'"

Awesome. I'm re-evaluating Burning Man.

But I still won't go.

Well Done, Medium, or...

RARE!

Since I'm on the subject of wacky characters about town, I thought I'd give a shout out to my peeps in Berkeley. There are LOTS of freaks wandering the streets up there. When I moved to LA, I had to readjust my thinking in order to understand that all the disembodied voices I heard having conversations with themselves around me were actually folks talking on their cell phones, not lunatics like I was used to.

The entire decade or so that I lived in Berkeley, I was aware of a particular street guy we called Rare. Why? Because he used to walk around and people would yell to him, "How do you like it?" And he'd yell back, "Rare!" And vice versa. I'm positive that he's still wandering Telegraph Ave doing that.

He was usually shirtless in jeans, with scraggly longish hair. He'd drop and do one handed push-ups on the sidewalk for no reason. He provided lots of entertainment for the frat boys. Oddly, in his lucid moments, he'd rattle off sports statistics and talk athletics with all the knowledge of a seasoned sportscaster, and he also was obsessed with music. In his not so lucid moments, he'd run around rambling about God knows what.

There were lots of rumors around Rare, but the one I remember most vividly was the one about him once being a major college baseball star, and then getting smacked in the head with a fastball and going nuts as a result. I had a couple personal encounters with him. He came to volunteer at the radio station I was managing, KALX Berkeley, with the intention of working in our sports department. He had a friend (caretaker?) with him when he came by, and he was very sincere about doing it and very interested, but after 6 weeks or so I saw him ranting on the streets again.

My contact with Rare continued when I moved to LA. I worked in a record store which had started in Berkeley and I was at the Hollywood branch, working the information counter. Rare used to call there looking for stuff because he had talked one of the owners into bringing merchandise back to the Bay if we had it. "You know that one Byrds album? It was really great, when they started with the country thing, and other rock bands weren't doing that, and that's why the Rolling Stones started doing that, and that guy OD'd or something, and they reissued it and put extra tracks on it but I just want that first version, the original one, on vinyl, you know?" He remembered me from the radio station. Sometimes.

He doesn't give a fuck, he's living under a truck
You know it coulda been me, I guess that's just my luck
But I swear I hear the voices singing to me-
Keep on keep on keep on... Concrete Blonde

Still In Hollywood

And on the bus today I met the Queen of LA -
At least she said she was, and who am I to say?... Concrete Blonde

Today I'm going to write about Torrance.

Torrance is the doorman at the Burgundy Room, a bar that's been in the seedy-now-swanky part of Hollywood (Hollywood is a really trashy place, so swanky ain't all that). The Burgundy opened its narrow door in 1919, became a speakeasy during the Dark Ages, and was bought by a very dear friend of mine several years ago. I used to DJ there regularly, and still do sometimes.

Torrance has been working the door for many, many years. He is a tall (like, 7 footer) thin black man, with thick broken glasses and a cap. He has a long face and long hands and a voice so low the ground rumbles a bit beneath you when he talks. He's a bit of a drunk, and he's wickedly intelligent when he wants to be (Howard grads often are), but he's also convinced that the toy skeletons hanging above the bar speak to him.

"Mo, why don't I see you anymore?" he often asks me in that beyond deep baritone of his. "Because I have a real job now, Torrance; it's hard for me to stay up drinking with y'all like I used to when I first moved here." "Well, yes, yes..." he rumbles, "but I sure did appreciate you being here. You know how to play black music for black people." He'd shake his head sadly.

When I DJ'ed at the bar, I always made sure to sneak in some old school soul for Torrance. Toss on a little Lyn Collins or the Temptations, and he's sure to come in and boogie. But at the end of the night, after a few shots of tequila and once the doors are closed, he'd put on my headphones and listen to the Rolling Stones do "Wild Horses." And sing along.

I guess it makes sense then, in a way, that Torrance got snatched up to do some shows with local country thrashers, Soda and His Million Piece Band. Their recent turn with Torrance on college station KXLU got rave reviews and earned them a house packed with hipsters at the Echo in fashionably dingy Echo Park. You know how people say the BellRays are like the MC5 fronted by Tina Turner? Well, this is a bit like a rowdy Squirrel Nut Zippers fronted by Lou Rawls.

And Torrance will be back at the bar tomorrow, doling out his street wisdom to anyone who will listen, and letting only the right people in the bar. If he knows your face, and likes you, you're golden. And he's actually quite a doll.

When I got dumped while I was still working there, Torrance's comment to me was, "Uh uh, if that ex-boyfriend of yours comes around here, you know what I'm gonna do? You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna treat him like a customer." Whoa. Ultimate dis.

Hollywood takes all kinds; Torrance doesn't.

Six Degrees of John Taylor

Ok, you know how every once in a while you find a dorky game so fun that you can't stop playing it? And you think about its possibilities when you aren't playing it? Well, thanks alot, Scott Stereogum, because you linked me to a game that actually made it possible to connect my current alt rock crush - Ken Andrews (Failure, On, Year of the Rabbit) - to my teen dream - John Taylor (Duran Duran, duh). In 9 moves. It took a few more to connect the Eagles to Bikini Kill, but it could be done. IT COULD BE DONE.

Thank God for computer nerds who are also music geeks, or I wouldn't be able to get my goober factor so high.

Plug It In

If you need to know about new music, learn about current music, or rediscover old music, I have some guidelines for you. Brought to you courtesy of PLUG.

"PLUG is a collection of music lovers: writers, DJs, webmasters, artists, filmmakers, managers, indie retailers, and most importantly - fans, who gather togther each year to celebrate the artists who live and flourish in the margins..."

The PLUG peole have voted, and these are the results:

Album of the Year
TV On The Radio - Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes (Touch And Go)

Artist Of The Year
Interpol

New Artist Of The Year
Arcade Fire

Male Artist Of The Year
Tom Waits

Female Artist Of The Year
Jean Grae

Hip-Hop Album Of The Year
Madvillain - Madvillany (Stones Throw)

Punk Album Of The Year
Bad Religion - The Empire Strikes First (Epitaph)

Metal Album Of The Year
Dillinger Escape Plan - Miss Machine (Relapse)

Electronic/Dance Album Of The Year
Mouse On Mars - Radical Connector (Thrill Jockey)

Americana Album Of The Year
Iron And Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days (Sub Pop)

Indie Rock Album Of The Year
Interpol - Antics (Matador)

DJ Album Of The Year
RJD2 - Since We Last Spoke (Definitive Jux)

Avant Album Of The Year
Liars - They Were Wrong, So We Drowned (Mute)

Record Label Of The Year
Definitive Jux

Live Act Of The Year
Death Cab For Cutie

Record Producer of the Year
Danger Mouse

Album Art/Packaging of the Year
Arcade Fire – Funeral (Merge)

Music Website Of The Year
pitchforkmedia.com

Magazine Of The Year
The Wire

Specialty Show Of The Year (Commercial Radio)
KDLD, Los Angeles, "Dead Air” (Indie 103.1)

College/Non-Comm Radio Station Of The Year
KEXP, Seattle, WA

Internet Radio Station of the Year
WOXY.com

Record Store of the Year
Amoeba Music, Hollywood, CA

Best Music DVD of the Year
Rock Against Bush, Vol 2


If you think your radio sucks, and want to hear something different, do some research with the folks who won (or were nominated) for these awards. Oh yea, and weren't the Grammys tonight?

Shoot That Poison Arrow

When the postman don’t call on Valentine’s Day
And Santa Claus don’t come on a Christmas Day
That umbrella won’t work on a rainy day
Don’t ask me, I already know! - ABC

It was pointed out to me that Valentine's day is Monday. I used to work in a card and candy shop; I think Valentine's Day is dumb. I thought that before I worked there, though. My boyfriends are lucky - I expect nothing on that day. The rest of the year, however...

With your heart on parade and your heart on parole
I hope you find a sucker to buy that mink stole
School for scandal,
Guess who’s enrolled?
So ask me, I already know!

When I was growing up, I got a present from my Dad every year on Valentine's day. Usually a little box of candy and a little Valentine themed toy... A tiny stuffed horse, one of those bitty clingy koala things, stuff like that. It would be sitting on my nightstand when I would wake up that morning. That stuff ended when I hit high school and probably was freaking my Dad out by doing things like having a boyfriend and growing boobs. Poor guy. But I always thought, and still think, that it was really, really sweet.

Other than that, Valentine's day is dumb.

So if you really love your partner, tell them all the time. Or get them this:


Word.

Bow Wow Wow

I am a cat person. Like, a raging cat person. But a friend of mine sent me one of those dorky online quiz things and so I HAD to try it out... and find out what kind of dog I am.

Turns out I'm an English Cocker Spaniel.


"Number one dog in popularity in Britain during the 1930's through the 1950's. Originally from Spain, the Spaniel derives its name from the word Espagnol. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting."

Yep, that's me alright. Great at flushing woodcock.

Take the quiz, which happens to be related to some independent movie I don't know jack about. But the quiz is pretty neat-o!

Take the Skinheads Bowling

I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there, the Dude, takin' her easy for all us sinners.- The Big Lebowski


I got this email from my pal, the Dude, today. Like, the real Dude. I only saw "The Big Lebowski" once, and I was a little bit stoned, but it was funny (not just because of my condition). It's got quite a following, and since this event is happening here in LA this year, I think I have to go and watch people get all batshit over this really sweet bear of a guy.

So if you're interested, here are the deets (from the Dude himself):


Just wanted to let a some of my friends and associates in LA know about this upcoming Lebowski Fest thing which really is a hoot. It is on Friday and Saturday March 25 & 26. You can come either night or both nights.

The Friday night part usually involves a fair amount of drinking, some bands playing, and then they show THE BIG LEBOWSKI with the Greek chorus joining in.

The Saturday night event is always at a bowling alley. About a quarter of the folks come in costumes which are often hilarious and inspired. Check out the website photo gallery from past fests.


No need to come in costume or be a good bowler- almost all the folks are alot better drinkers and talkers then they are bowlers. This is not a bunch of Trekkies (ed. note: I heart Trekkies)--these folks have to be smart and have a good enough sense of humor to get Joel & Ethan's sense of irony.

It sells out very fast so you might want to get tickets now. Especially the bowling night which they have to cap off. It's real cheap too!

No -- I don't make any money on this--it's just a helleva lot of fun. Browse through the website and you'll see.

Hope you can party with us. It's fun to go to with a couple of your friends who like to laugh and hang out.

the Dude abides!

And go here to check out something related and totally absurd. Don't ask how I found it. This is fun too. Is this Lebowski thing kinda culty or what? Oh, whatever. White Russians for everyone!

Do You Know Me Now?

I love going to the movies, but it has been a tricky thing for me. Sometimes, it's hard to find the time for the event that is going to the movies. I could rent, but I'm not home enough, or don't necessarily want to rent on my own. I was spoiled by having had a boyfriend for about a zillion years who loved going to the movies, and renting them too. We'd watch just about anything, from 40's noir to current indie to musicals to silent films to seventies blockbusters.

So I'm finally getting out to the movies again, but I've already seen one of these films twice. And it's a documentary. And I happened to see it for the first time last November at the AFI fest, with my movie boyfriend (now an ex) while he was visiting from his current home in Germany. And then I happened to see it tonight with my gay best friend. And it's about a gay German guy.

Go figure.

The Nomi Song is a bittersweet documentary about Klaus Nomi, the beyond avant performance artist who emerged on the New York scene in 1978. He came from Essen, Germany to New York City via Berlin. His debut in Ann Magnuson's new wave vaudeville show quickly led to packed club gigs all over the city, peaking with an appearance on Saturday Night Live doing backup (and makeup!) for David Bowie in 1979.


What was his schtick? He sang opera in falsetto to electronic music while dressed like an alien. Well, his interpretation of an alien, I suppose.

The documentary has some great archival footage of the time in NYC, as well as the fervor around such a bizarre little man (who was also quite the pastry chef, it seems). After the Bowie thing, he finally got his record contract. While he was a minor player on the American New Wave scene, he was - of course - huge in Europe. Especially in France.

And then he became one of AID's earliest known casualties, gone by 1983.

Sometimes I wonder if something as bizarre and imaginative and just plain weird as Klaus Nomi can ever happen again. Would it just freak people out? I mean, he played successful shows in Wisconsin, Illinois, Kansas... all over the country. I just can't imagine that flying today - I feel as if we've gone very backwards sometimes in this country.

I mean, would an opera singing disco homo in black and white makeup wearing a giant plastic tux fly in today's world? I hope so. That would be fabulous.

I Send A Message

When I started this A-Z music thing a few months back, I decided that when I picked a letter, whatever name popped into my head first would be the chosen subject for the day. Imagine my surprise when the letter I rolled around and I did not first think of Interpol, but INXS.

Maybe this isn't so surprising, given my Australian leanings or new wave background. And, actually, my job is going to relate to the remains of this band very soon.

INXS was a band that emerged during that early 80's new wave thing, but didn't really sound like that. They didn't really sound like anything; maybe because they came from Perth which is - according to an Aussie I know - the last outpost of civilization. The tip of South America is closer to Perth than Sydney is.

Anyway, I guess a funky blues rock band would kind of describe them, but with that synthy edge. But you've heard 'em. They even recorded with Chic's Nile Rogers for "Original Sin" which is still a tune that makes some of my girlfriends swoon. Personally, I'm a "Don't Change" swooner. Michael Hutchence was always a pretty sexy singer, at least vocally.

So Michael Hutchence was found hanging in a hotel room in Sydney, and the rumor has always been autoerotic asphysixiation. That was pretty much the end of the band. I thought.

Leave it to reality TV to bring something back from the dead, eh? "Rock Star" is the name of the show which will feature INXS auditioning for its new lead singer. The winner will then take Hutchence's place, and they'll record an album and everything. I get to work with them clearing the music they will be using for the show. The manager and members of the band I have met have been really nice, interesting guys.

Still, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I think that's a tad disrespectful, but since when has reality TV been anything else? The least the band could do, I think, is change their name. But then, how could they cash in?

A Memo to Paul McCartney

...by Tim Carvell...

To: Paul McCartney

From: The N.F.L.

Re: Super Bowl halftime show

THANK you for coming by this morning; my wife was very impressed to hear that I got to meet a former Beatle, especially one who isn't Ringo. She wanted me to ask if you remember her. She saw you at the Milwaukee Arena in 1964. She says she screamed "Paul!" throughout your show, and that you looked over and winked at her. She was wearing a red hat. Anyway, if you do remember her: She says hi.

Moving on. We've reviewed your set list and dance routine, and we have just a few notes:

We like the simple shirt and slacks that you have chosen as your outfit. However, to prevent even the slightest possibility of a "wardrobe malfunction," we were wondering if you could maybe wear something extra over your outfit? Or maybe under it? Like an extra pair of underpants over your usual underpants? Or maybe a sweater, and a second pair of pants over your original pair of pants? Nothing too noticeable - just a little insurance. I'm sure you understand.

"Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da": Is there something you can say after "life goes on" that's not "bra"? The word still makes us a little nervous around here. Thanks.

"Blackbird": "Take these broken wings and learn to fly"? It's a lovely image, Paul, but: Children are going to be watching this. No parent wants to have to explain injured birds to their children, especially not on Super Sunday. Can you sing around it so the bird's wings aren't broken? Maybe the bird could take its "bucket o' wings" and learn to fly? KFC may pay for the product placement. Just a thought.

"I Saw Her Standing There": "Well, she was just 17, you know what I mean"? I am fairly certain that I do not know what you mean, but I do know that she'd better be at least 18. Make that 21. Or 25. She was just 25. That works fine.

Sorry to circle back to this, but we've been thinking more about your outfit. Maybe you could wear both the extra underpants and the sweater and extra pants? You know, just to be safe? Also: Some of us are a bit worried about the hip motions while you're dancing. They seem a tad suggestive. Could you maybe dance without moving your hips? Or your feet? You may, of course, continue to use your arms.

"A Hard Day's Night": We're a bit concerned about the line about how, when "I get home to you, I'll find the things that you do, will make me feel all right." That is upsettingly vague, like the things that she does might be rated, you know, more than PG. Maybe you could sub in something more specific and G-rated, like: "But when I get home to you, I find the board games we play will make me feel all right." It's the same general idea, I think you'll find.

"A Day in the Life": "He blew his mind out in his car"? No, Paul. No, he didn't.

"Get Back": So let's see: Our hero, Jojo, "left his home in Tucson, Arizona, for some California grass," and our heroine, Loretta Martin, "thought she was a woman, but she was another man." And here I thought Ringo was the funny one! You really had us going for a minute there! (Um, if you weren't joking: No.)

Just got back from a meeting with wardrobe, and they want me to ask: How would you feel about a suit of armor? As I understand it, you've been knighted, so you probably have one lying around, yes? If not, we can provide one for you. Just ask!

Well, that's all we've got for now. If anything else comes to us, we'll let you know. Can't wait for the big show! Rock 'n' roll!

(Tim Carvell is a writer for "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.")

Master and Servant

Since I don't like festivals, I came up with my own. It'd be called "Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery" festival. The "ISF Fest" for short. Think that's catchy?

Anyway, here's the lineup:

DAY ONE (post punk dance punk party): headliners - Gang of Four. Also: Hot Hot Heat, the Rapture, Radio 4, !!!, Moving Units and Bloc Party.

DAY TWO (post punk quirky punk thrashy): (co-headliners) XTC and The Fall. Also: Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, the Futureheads, Dogs Die In Hot Cars, Louis XIV, and Kaiser Chiefs.

And in the Tent for the midnight "rave" portion? Well, they would all be sharing the same keyboards and videoscreens, and it would be: (co-headliners)Depeche Mode and Gary Numan (with Tubeway Army). Also, the Faint, Ladytron, Fischerspooner, Adult and I Am Spoonbender.

This is already happening anyway... David Byrne performed "Naive Melody" with the Arcade Fire in NYC the other night. My festival will happen. And when it does, I'll be there to spray you all with water cannons.

Everything old is new again. Right?

That Was Then, But This is Now

So Coachella's lineup has been announced. Big whoop.

I kid, I kid! As usual, it's an amazing slew of bands. I went last year for the first time because the Pixies were playing. That was the only reason. It was hot, crowded, expensive and confusing. I saw some great performances and had some fun. All in all, it was ok. The Pixies were awesome. I have no reason to go back.

I've never really been able to get into festival shows. I always have a hard time seeing over the teeming masses, while sweating and covered in dust and stepping over a person passed out in their own vomit to see a speck of a band I like. Or rather, watch it on the big screens. So I'm okay with missing them, really. But when I was about 12, I remember being really, really really heartbroken about missing the US Festival. "Woodstock West."

The US Festival took place in 1982 and 1983. It was created by Steve Wozniak, the mastermind of the Apple computer. It took place in Glen Helen Park in San Bernardino, which is just about as hot and dusty as Coachella. Except that these guys set up a half acre of showers and had water cannons to spray the crowd with, as well as plenty of water fountains.

Here was the lineup in 1982: DAY ONE - The Police (headliners), Talking Heads, B52s, Oingo Boingo, English Beat, Ramones, Gang of Four. DAY TWO - Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers (headliners), Pat Benatar, the Kinks, the Cars, Santana, Eddie Money, Dave Edmunds & the Joe Sharino Band.

Okay, what about 1983? This was the year I tried to con any adult I knew into taking me 90 miles north of home so I could see these bands. I'm still a little dead inside because I missed it. DAY ONE - The Clash(headliners), Men At Work, the Stray Cats, Flock of Seagulls, English Beat, Oingo Boingo, Wall of Voodoo, Inxs & Divinyls. DAY TWO - Van Halen (headliners), Scorpions, Triumph, Judas Priest, Ozzy Osbourne, Motley Crue, & Quiet Riot. DAY THREE - David Bowie (headliner), Stevie Nicks, Joe Walsh, the Pretenders, Missing Persons, U2, Quarterflash, Berlin, & Little Stephen. Keep the year in mind, people. 1983. This was the apex. "Sunday Bloody Sunday." "Too Young to Fall in Love." "Dance the Night Away" with Diamond Dave. "The One Thing." "The Metro."

But take note: Gang of Four played the US Fest in '82, and they're playing Coachella in '05 - only 23 years later. Ironically, that's the only band I really want to see anyway. Sigh. I'm OLD!!!

Fear and Loathing In Echo Park

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Well, for my sister and I this weekend, it was the chicken in form of chicken tikka masala and coconut curry at a friend's house in the Hollywood Hills. Little did we know the egg was still to come.

My sister was visiting from San Diego, and I had several birthdays to celebrate. (And more to come - you damn Aquarians!) The main part of our evening was to be spent in Echo Park at the Short Stop, a bar once owned by an ex-cop (or so legend goes) which was sold after the Rampart police scandal. The scandal involved the "discovery" that a bunch of corrupt LAPD officers were falsely arresting people, dealing drugs, giving perjured testimony and framing innocent people. Stuff like that. Very L.A. Confidential.

Anyway, the Shorty was a cop hangout till that happened (there are bulletholes in the walls somewhere, but it's too dark to see them). Then a couple years ago, some hip, young, music industry types bought the place and made it cool for hip, young folks. These were all great guys who just love a good dive and a good time, and that's the kind of place the Shorty is today.

So my sister and I parked about two blocks down the street, and got out of my car to start our little jaunt up the hill. We were barely past the car when there was a whizzing noise and a slam, and I was hit on the side of my chest with something. This is scary in Echo Park, because it isn't the safest of neighborhoods. There used to be a lot of gang activity and the nearby lake would get dredged regularly for missing persons. My sister and I both yelled, barely noticing a car that had also raced past. "Fuck, that hurt!" I yelled, holding my side. "Was that ice? It looked like a snowball or something." My sister looked around, "Shit, I think it was an egg." "What?" She looked at my jacket and goes, "Wow, I guess it just ricocheted off you onto the wall. Lucky it didn't break or you'd be really nasty right now!" She found this pretty funny, but that's a sister for you. Actually, since I hadn't been shot, I found it pretty funny too. But weird - I didn't think people got egged anymore. it seemed so '78 or something. Maybe even '68. But what do I know?

There were signs of the evil-doers all the way to the bar. Just another Saturday night in Echo Park? Oh no, it happens on Mondays too. At least, this past Monday.

I met some friends at the Echo, a live music/ dance venue also in Echo Park, surrounded by a cultural center, some quickie Mexican food places and thrift stores. Stuff like that. I went to see two terrific local bands - the Electromagnetic and Helen Stellar. It was a good crowd, really into the dream pop these kids from the school of rockin' shoegaze were playing. Even Cameron Crowe (aka Mrs. Nancy Wilson) was there, cozied up to the bar and swaying to Helen Stellar. A girl in the audience went up to thank him for Say Anything and Almost Famous, and asked him if he knew the band, and he responded that he was a big fan. Go Cameron - a true music lover, that guy.

On my way back out to the car, I saw fresh evidence of fowl play on the sidewalks and walls. It seems as if the culprits were still at large. Grade AA large, by the looks of it.