Grammy's Rock.
I know what you are thinking. Watching the Grammy's isn't very punk rock, but you know what, I did it anyway, and dammit it was worth it. All my dreams came true when Celine Dion was singing into a broken microphone. And that wasn't even the high point. Let's take a minute to reflect on how FUCKING ROCK AND ROLL the White Stripes were last night. Jack and Meg held it down in their fashion. They roared through versions of Seven Nation Army and Son House's Death Letter Blues with a fury that must have left Middle America with wet crotches. I can't even imagine a 12 year old kid in Kansas seeing that and not suddenly having the desire to purchase the best guitar their local Wal-Mart has to offer.
My second favorite moment came directly after their performance when Andre 3000 got called for one of Outkast's three trophies. His delayed arrival to the stage followed by a speech no longer than the words, "Thank You," was so fucking spot on. I nearly fell to the ground laughing. I was psyched to see them take home the Album of the Year though I was pulling for the Detroit duo.
Other performances that were amazing include: Justin Timberlake's performance with Arturo Sandoval. Yeah, I said it. I enjoyed it. The boy has soul, and it can't be disputed. The Foo Fighter's pair-up with Chick Corea paled in comparison, and on second thought, what the hell was Chick wearing? And lest I forget, Outkast's... well Andre's... moves during his performance of the fucking best song ever, aka Hey Ya, were tip top. I took notes, so be prepared for the look next time I hit a dance floor. Honorable mention goes to the sex that oozed over during the Prince and Beyonce number. Hova is a lucky man.
Other titillating incidents include: Samuel L. Jackson's rant and rave about funk. That man has the fever, but P-Funk didn't sit to well. Coldplay won some award, but I really don't care. Norah Jones acted like she hadn't gotten laid in ages. What was up her ass? And finally, the Osborne's were charming, as always. Ozzy in a neck brace. Oh that was a riot.
What happened to the Beatles tribute. Oh I remember, it was bullshit.
Here is a link to Billboard's roundup of the awards. And here is a list of the Winners.
Waste of a Weekend.
If you didn't see me this weekend it was with good reason. I didn't do much of anything, and it was beautiful. Thanks to all of you who kept me company while I pulled some serious hang time. Friday night Dan, Steve and Noah came over for awhile. Eventually Phoebe showed up and we settled into the documentary Spellbound. This film was great. Go rent it now, its an absolute riot. Oh, I also saw Lost in Translation for the first time, and I think I have a new favorite film. Everything Bill Murray touches turns to gold.
Saturday was a bit more exciting. Noah and I caught American Splendor in which Paul Giamatti turned in a darkly hilarious portrayal of Harvey Pekar. This film was another fantastic piece of work. In fact, if you haven't seen any of the flicks I've mentioned, get to your local video cassette borrower and rent them.
I was lucky enough to be invited out to dinner with Stevo and his pops. We headed to Spark's Steak House in midtown. It was a nice joint. So nice in fact, that yours truly wore a sport coat and even a collared shirt. The dinner and drinks were the best I've had in ages. Despite doctor's orders, I went for the sirloin and if it kills me, I'll die happy. That was one tasty animal.
Following dinner we headed downtown, at my suggestion, to Rue B to catch some classy drinks and a little jazz. Mr. Marks seemed to enjoy the place so I felf my job had been done. Hawkins, Christie, Anoush, Erin and Cami showed up at the bar and we all had drinks till I couldn't see straight. We also ran into Phoebe and Christain, but that's where the night begins to blur. Hawkins, Christie and I rolled down to Sofie's, but as soon as I walked in, I realized it wasn't anything I could handle in my highly inebriated state, so I bolted home.
Yesterday was a complete waste. By complete, I mean complete. Don't even ask.
The O.C. Returns.
That's right kids. This week the O.C. returns with an all new episode. We need to get the ball rolling on dinner plans. This one will be epic, so get the mice moving. We need menu ideas. Email me what you got.
Bits and Bites.
If you missed it, read the transcript of President Bush's conversation on Meet the Press. Tim Russert put the Commander and Chief on the hot seat, and Bush didn't respond well. If you remain apolitical, just look at the economies figures during the past 4 years. If that isn't reason to get off your ass and vote, then you my friend should move to Canada.
If you haven't heard Queens yet, you will. In the mean time, listen to the original. Hell, they got voted best rock anthem ever and I must agree.
Coachella line-up is finalized. Yes Paul, I'll be there. Don't ever call me again.
I cover a lot of Unicorns' press, but with good reason. These guys are young, funny and they play great music on top of it all. Check out a sit down Junkmedia had with the Canadian two-some.
Whirlwind Heat gets a little help from their big sister.
Strokes spring tour dates sans NYC.
I need this single. Why won't record stores carry this damn single. If I don't get it soon, someone is gonna be in trouble.
Emily Haines is cute. Really cute. And her band, Metric, though at times they remind you a the dumbest kids from high school, play some great tunes. Come see them with me this Friday at the Bowery.
Thats the last of it.
I know what you are thinking. Watching the Grammy's isn't very punk rock, but you know what, I did it anyway, and dammit it was worth it. All my dreams came true when Celine Dion was singing into a broken microphone. And that wasn't even the high point. Let's take a minute to reflect on how FUCKING ROCK AND ROLL the White Stripes were last night. Jack and Meg held it down in their fashion. They roared through versions of Seven Nation Army and Son House's Death Letter Blues with a fury that must have left Middle America with wet crotches. I can't even imagine a 12 year old kid in Kansas seeing that and not suddenly having the desire to purchase the best guitar their local Wal-Mart has to offer.
My second favorite moment came directly after their performance when Andre 3000 got called for one of Outkast's three trophies. His delayed arrival to the stage followed by a speech no longer than the words, "Thank You," was so fucking spot on. I nearly fell to the ground laughing. I was psyched to see them take home the Album of the Year though I was pulling for the Detroit duo.
Other performances that were amazing include: Justin Timberlake's performance with Arturo Sandoval. Yeah, I said it. I enjoyed it. The boy has soul, and it can't be disputed. The Foo Fighter's pair-up with Chick Corea paled in comparison, and on second thought, what the hell was Chick wearing? And lest I forget, Outkast's... well Andre's... moves during his performance of the fucking best song ever, aka Hey Ya, were tip top. I took notes, so be prepared for the look next time I hit a dance floor. Honorable mention goes to the sex that oozed over during the Prince and Beyonce number. Hova is a lucky man.
Other titillating incidents include: Samuel L. Jackson's rant and rave about funk. That man has the fever, but P-Funk didn't sit to well. Coldplay won some award, but I really don't care. Norah Jones acted like she hadn't gotten laid in ages. What was up her ass? And finally, the Osborne's were charming, as always. Ozzy in a neck brace. Oh that was a riot.
What happened to the Beatles tribute. Oh I remember, it was bullshit.
Here is a link to Billboard's roundup of the awards. And here is a list of the Winners.
Waste of a Weekend.
If you didn't see me this weekend it was with good reason. I didn't do much of anything, and it was beautiful. Thanks to all of you who kept me company while I pulled some serious hang time. Friday night Dan, Steve and Noah came over for awhile. Eventually Phoebe showed up and we settled into the documentary Spellbound. This film was great. Go rent it now, its an absolute riot. Oh, I also saw Lost in Translation for the first time, and I think I have a new favorite film. Everything Bill Murray touches turns to gold.
Saturday was a bit more exciting. Noah and I caught American Splendor in which Paul Giamatti turned in a darkly hilarious portrayal of Harvey Pekar. This film was another fantastic piece of work. In fact, if you haven't seen any of the flicks I've mentioned, get to your local video cassette borrower and rent them.
I was lucky enough to be invited out to dinner with Stevo and his pops. We headed to Spark's Steak House in midtown. It was a nice joint. So nice in fact, that yours truly wore a sport coat and even a collared shirt. The dinner and drinks were the best I've had in ages. Despite doctor's orders, I went for the sirloin and if it kills me, I'll die happy. That was one tasty animal.
Following dinner we headed downtown, at my suggestion, to Rue B to catch some classy drinks and a little jazz. Mr. Marks seemed to enjoy the place so I felf my job had been done. Hawkins, Christie, Anoush, Erin and Cami showed up at the bar and we all had drinks till I couldn't see straight. We also ran into Phoebe and Christain, but that's where the night begins to blur. Hawkins, Christie and I rolled down to Sofie's, but as soon as I walked in, I realized it wasn't anything I could handle in my highly inebriated state, so I bolted home.
Yesterday was a complete waste. By complete, I mean complete. Don't even ask.
The O.C. Returns.
That's right kids. This week the O.C. returns with an all new episode. We need to get the ball rolling on dinner plans. This one will be epic, so get the mice moving. We need menu ideas. Email me what you got.
Bits and Bites.
If you missed it, read the transcript of President Bush's conversation on Meet the Press. Tim Russert put the Commander and Chief on the hot seat, and Bush didn't respond well. If you remain apolitical, just look at the economies figures during the past 4 years. If that isn't reason to get off your ass and vote, then you my friend should move to Canada.
If you haven't heard Queens yet, you will. In the mean time, listen to the original. Hell, they got voted best rock anthem ever and I must agree.
Coachella line-up is finalized. Yes Paul, I'll be there. Don't ever call me again.
I cover a lot of Unicorns' press, but with good reason. These guys are young, funny and they play great music on top of it all. Check out a sit down Junkmedia had with the Canadian two-some.
Whirlwind Heat gets a little help from their big sister.
Strokes spring tour dates sans NYC.
I need this single. Why won't record stores carry this damn single. If I don't get it soon, someone is gonna be in trouble.
Emily Haines is cute. Really cute. And her band, Metric, though at times they remind you a the dumbest kids from high school, play some great tunes. Come see them with me this Friday at the Bowery.
Thats the last of it.
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