The Business Of Importance.
ATTENTION APARTMENT HUNTERS: My buddy Stevo (aka Mr. Fine Lad) is in a bit of a jam. He has to rent out the bedroom in his dope East Village apartment in a massive hurry. Check out his Craig’s List blurb and drop him a line if you or any of your good natured friends are in need of lodging for the next year. I’ll 100% vouch for Stevo which might not mean much since I’m an assbag.

Next up; take note of this bitching party going on in the East Village tomorrow evening. Who ever said Brooklyn is the new Manhattan and the Lower East Side is the new Brooklyn may have been right, (but they still are dicktards). If you read my post regarding the Arcade Fire show that Dirty On Purpose opened, then you surely won’t want to miss this gig. All hail DOP!


If you are in search of a punk(ier) sound on Wednesday night, head over to Pianos and catch Karen, Sivan and Carlos as Demander opens their month long residency at the venue. My plan is to catch the show that has Sam Champion slated to open, but those of you who can’t wait should get to Pianos tomorrow night!

And then there were two. Ty Willingham has been fired from his position as head coach of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. WTF!!! Is there no pleasing these stinky elitist Irish hicks? Without a whole heap of talent to work with and some crazy academic standards, Willingham was still able to get the Irish to 2 bowl games in three years. I guess when you coach a team like the Yankees of college football (I’m talking popularity) people expect more. Bring on Butch Davis!

Mick Jagger Said It Best.
What a drag it is getting old. Turmoil is my new favorite emotion. Can a word like turmoil even squeeze under the banner definition of emotion? Well, I’m making it so. The past few days were like having my head in a vice. Every time something new was introduced, the clamps would tighten and my eyes would bulge further out of their sockets. Thankfully my vacation was spent heavily medicating myself with various drugs and alcohol. Now I’m back in the saddle. A whole two days. Trust me, I’m not a pretty sight.

Thanksgiving As Remembered By Me.
Wednesday night was a fucking blur. The evening started with Hawkins, Noah and I drinking tequila while we prepared the bird. We later moved to 186 sans Hawkins and proceeded to force ourselves to drink tequila at the kitchen table. An hour or so went by before Lou showed up with his regular bag of tricks only this time there was an addition. Lou called them poppers while I might call them crazy sticks. Have you done this shit yet? I’m no glorified drug user, and as a matter of fact, I haven’t even tried some of the most popular drugs on the books, but wow-wee, everyone should try this. Apparently its something they give you in the event of a heart attack which is funny because I thought they caused one. Think of those scenes from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas where Johnny Depp is barreling down the desert highway and he breaks something open which tweaks him ever so slightly. Well, that my friends, is a popper and Lou brought some to 186. Post popper the night begins to blur. I managed to take enough tequila shots to kill a large donkey while Lou played house pharmacist to the number of kids that came through that included Stevo, Kyle, Cathy, Hawkins, Dee and Brenda. There were probably more who came over that evening, but like I said, the night got messy. Stevo some how managed to puke behind the toilet. Yes, I said behind the toilet. Cathy reminded me why I must move to San Francisco to marry her, but for some reason I don’t think she’ll have my hand. It was a hell of a night.

The next morning greeted me with a terrible headache and a wicked case of the shakes. Lou sat around watching some of the early football game while I prepared portions of the coming feast in our kitchen. As afternoon became evening, kids like Stevo, Kyle and Jin came through for dinner. I managed to whip up some biscuits, broccoli casserole, sautéed mushrooms, pesto mashed potatoes and some gravy. Stevo was kind enough to bring heaps of wine while Jin also brought some vino and a salad. Hawkins brought the bird, stuffing (which was a disaster thanks to me), drunken yams (which I forgot to try) and the desert. He also brought two lovely southern girls; Lindsey, who you may remember from previous posts, and her awesome friend Mandy. Kyle rocked out some amazing appetizer dishes which came in handy due to the bird needing a couple extra hours in the oven. Around 8pm we were ready to eat. We gathered round the feast and we each gave thanks for something. Not wanting to drop the sentimental bomb or something layered in cheese, I proudly gave thanks for pussy. Yeah, sorry to ruin a pretty picture, but give it a minute; it makes sense.

We wasted the evening drinking and gabbing through our self-imposed comas. We sat around watching the Seinfeld special and were joined by Little Chris and some girl from Wisconsin whose name might have been Angela. As Hawk, Angela and I stood in the kitchen discussing turkey day, I freaked out and explained to the two of them my personal necessity to either move to Wisconsin or the South to find me a nice girl with that wholesome accent. Though some might think its ridiculous, it drives me absolutely crazy. This airing of a preference may set me back a bit with some folks, but dammit, they have it right on. Do you think I could handle Alabama for a couple years while courting the future Mrs. Belin. Ewwww… Mrs. Belin…. That’s so nasty. Sorry mom and dad. Girls, we’ll take your name, but it better be awesome.

The rest of the evening was spent like the better part of my weekend. We wasted Thrusday night playing video games and getting shithoused. It was a solid weekend. A minor snag came when I learned that Erin had fallen ill while visiting her Dad’s family in the Philadelphia area. She had to be hospitalized due to a major asthma attack. Dan was quite concerned so I offered to drive him to her so she wouldn’t have to drive back by herself. Hawkins was kind enough to lend us his car for such a task so Saturday afternoon Dan and I drove to Pennsylvania. We stopped by the hospital to say hello to Erin before I said farewell and started my trip back to the city. Perry was in town for a couple nights so he decided to funk up Builder’s bed while Josh was on the tail end of his trip to the motherland. Now things are back to normal; at least they appear to be.

Thanks to everyone who participated in the first 186 Thanksgiving. We had a ton of fun and hope to do it again in the future.

In addition, futon sex is not permitted in our apartment unless at least one of the actors in the situation lives in 186, (at least?). Let that be a lesson to you all. You know who you are.

posted by jayloose at 3:57 PM 60 comments   

Is Everybody Ready To Rock?
Twas the night before the night before Thanksgiving and all through the city; all the creatures were stirring including two Beach’s. The tequila was poured with destruction and care; in hopes that a Culkin soon would be there. The rockers had gathered all snug by the bar; while many watched the butt wiggler dance from afar. With me in my scarf and Sean in his cap; we looked hipper than ever as a matter of fact.

Enough of that…


Here is a list of things Jay will give thanks for: My beautiful Mother, the two best sisters ever, Bruce the Moose, all the Melisano’s, my killer roommates, my bitching friends and their enduring friendship, Weezer, good health (kind of), the ability to self sustain, Tequila, all the girls in the world (even the crazy ones), Margie Q, Joy Division, Loose Record, The Mercury Lounge, The Bowery Ballroom, Webster Hall, my iPod and last but not least Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Now for a list of things Jay isn’t giving thanks for: Rent (the payment and the play), The Red Sox, George Bush, The Hidden Cameras, hang overs, a complete inability to figure out the opposite sex, Middle America, tofu, Notre Dame’s football record, Phish, Red Lobster, Oveis, a complete lack of balls, Brooklyn, Loan Payments, zits, Radiohead, The War in Iraq, Grandaddy, Con Edison and Scott Toilet Paper (late addition: Pitty Sing for Noah).

And I Know You’ll Win.
Am I hung over? The lethargic nature of my moments makes it apparent. Am I sick? The consistent hugging of porcelain leads me to believe so. Am I an idiot? Typically this question doesn’t need to be answered, but today my head is emphatically howling YES. As I sit in my office sipping coffee and realizing why Blink 182 was one of my favorite bands in high school, another wave of wagon riding comes to mind only to be ignored over the course of the next few hours. Allow me to recount my well worn path to the morning after.

The evening began with a trip to the grocery store. Since I’m fairly neurotic, there was no way my Thanksgiving shopping would be left until the last minute, (I’ll wait for Christmas to fuck up a holiday). Key Foods wasn’t nearly as packed as expected, but there were a large number of crazies in the house. Take for instance the old lady who was in front of me at checkout. She insisted that the checkout girl open the register and exchange her pennies for a dime because she couldn’t be bothered to carry around so much change. It was an on going battle, but the woman waited five minutes for her fucking dime. I was awfully close to giving her a quarter and asking her to move it along.

Mike stopped in for some finalizing of the new Loose Record logo. We are damn near finished with it, and hopefully you’ll all dig it. In my humbly bias opinion; it is quite fresh. Soon we’ll have heaps of schwag to hand out so you can be the first on your block to adorn a pin or t-shirt with our namesake shamelessly plastered all over it. After we finished up, I made my way over to Dana’s house to hang for a quick minute prior to hitting up the Bowery. Dana said she had a present for me and since I love presents a spring was in my step. She hinted that it was a box set so my mind began to wonder… Nirvana… New Order… I was way off. It was ten times better. The new Michael Jackson box set. The Ulitmate. It contains four CDs, a DVD and a huge book. The best part is that is spans his entire career. If you’ve yet to realize, Michael Jackson is the fucking man, (outside of the whole fucking kids thing). Thanks Dana!

After some disgust while watching The Biggest Loser Ever or whatever that show is called, we made way for the Bowery. We were greeted by Noah who was working the door and Sean who was keeping him company. Merida hooked us up with some beverages and we cruised upstairs to get set for Apollo Sunshine. The three boys from New England have made it a long way since I last saw them. In fact, they rocked. They have hilarious songs, ridiculous stage antics and some massive guitar hero moves. Their set included a strobe light session, additional musicians playing guitars, tambourines and cowbells, a song that feature those tiny guitars who's name I can’t begin to spell and a double necked guitar/bass. Needless to say, my eyes were as happy as my ears. Stand up and take note, Apollo Sunshine will take over. As Dana pointed out, they just need a big act like Ween to take them on tour.

The night grew longer and tequila Tuesday came into effect. Sean, Beach and I kicked things off and later some other peps including Dana got in the mix. Someone should follow us around and take pictures of our faces post tequila shot. Last night would have made a hilarious collage. We retired to the basement to meet up with Tumbleweed. Lucy and I thought Beach couldn’t find him, but then Danny, in all his furry glory, cruised into the bar. The evening was shaping up to be a lot of fun.

We returned to are spot in the corner and after explaining to this kid that I wasn’t Nate we got another shot, (coincidently, Nate got a call later that night from someone who mistook me for Nate on my walk home). Dogs Die In Hot Cars started their set with a solo acoustic song done by their lead singer which recalled the opening to the Franz Ferdinand record. Their set was decent, but holy cow are they gay. I mean, the lead singer just screams gay. This isn’t a bad thing, but wow. Katie and I were basking in its glory. It was like A-Ha, Dexy, The Talking Heads and The Cure had one giant orgy and we were watching its replay. They have a couple songs that make me wiggle which remind me that the butt wiggler was in full effect last night. That guy is really on top of his shit. The night ended with more tequila in the basement and as I feel my arm seizing up, I’m reminded of the few that weren’t necessary.

Happy Turkey! Everyone have safe travels. Call me if you are in town and want to join us for the big 186 meal. And now for your moment of zen:

posted by jayloose at 1:21 PM 4 comments   

Dead Wrong. I’m Long Gone.
Well, your days of knowing Jay Belin are over. Sorry kids, but its time for this chicken to say goodbye to the coop. Where is it I’m going? The destination has yet to be set, but I can promise you one thing; my new home will be international. Don’t get discouraged. This isn’t another political rant about the evils of our current administration. This isn’t another monologue regarding my fear of war and life as a living target. This is merely an attempt for me to hide from my student loans. Yesterday my mail consisted of a Union newsletter, a bank statement and the most deadly of all, a Sallie Mae letter. It seems my first payment is due next month which means its time to disappear. We had a good run. For all those that I’ve offended, I’m sorry. For all those I’ve yet to offend, I’m sorry. See you when I get there.

Tell Me You’re The Lucky One.
Maybe I won’t move away. Maybe I’ll just switch to clean living. Maybe I’ll cut $4 drinks out of my life. Maybe I’ll become a square, get some pleated kakis and enjoy life working in administration. Fuck it all. What I really need is a rich girl. This is an open call to all rich girls. I cook. I clean. I consider myself a morally aligned kid. I will make you happy. Just make me rich. In fact, this is an open call to rich boys as well. At this point I’ll take any option that doesn’t involve a monthly payment for the next 25 years of my life. Interested Sugar Mommas/Daddies should inquire within.

Last night I spent some time sitting in the dark hatching up schemes to make some extra money. My best bet will be finding a weekend job that will put hook me up with some pocket cash for food during the week. Yeah, I already have a night job, but it isn’t as consistent as I need it to be. I’ll hold onto my job working with the clubs and search for a bar back shift or two. If I spent my Friday bar backing at gAyPT, then my weekly budget would withstand this onslaught from my lenders. Friday sucks anyway. Who cares if you are working 60 hours a week just to be able to party one night a week? It’s totally worth it.

Ok, enough of this bummer. Let me get on to the good stuff. Cami stopped by around 9pm last night for a beer before heading down to the Bowery. She put me in good spirits which is never a difficult thing. We sat in the kitchen drinking Coronas and listening to Joy Division. This is something I could do for the rest of my life. Sit at across the table from a good friend, talking about nothing, having a great time and pausing for the occasional mind blowing drum fill. On our way to the club we ran into Mike whose band Winter Pageant just finished a set at the Mercury. Being a bit of a slacker, I’ve continually missed their live shows, but one day, Jin will snag me off the couch and we’ll be king and queen of the pageant.

We cruised into the club and we met by all the usual suspects. Have I mentioned how awesome the entire crew is? I’m a lucky shit. Anyway, we walked up the back steps and ran right into Sean who was grooving around being so Sean. Chernin and Merrida were hanging out near the bar. Merrida had me perplexed. She was carrying around a tequila shot taking nips off the damned thing. Crazy right? We caught the last couple songs of Blanche who really don’t do it for me. It reminds me of the carnie show on HBO. They are a big 1940’s wannabe freak show who play crazy music and have an even crazier aesthetic. They reminded me of being afraid of clowns. During changeover Cami went out front to smoke a stoge so I ran over to say hello to Gigs who was hanging with a couple of her friends. Andy popped his head in and created a John Hughes type moment, but I’m not going to explain. Let’s just say it was hilarious, but everyone is so cool that it doesn’t make a difference. Upon Cami’s return we retreated to the basement bar to score a quick drink before running back to the corner for The Kills.

So back in 2002 I purchased The Kills' Black Rooster EP at Other Music on the basis that it was released on the beloved Dim Mak. I was instantly sold. They had the blues swagger of the Detroit happenings, the darkness embedded in the late 70’s Warhol scene and killer drum beats that make my hips swivel like a madman. Then their full-length dropped a year later on Rough Trade, (another label close to my heart). The record didn’t bowl me over, but it did have different versions of the EP tracks which made it a high rotation record. The problem is, this band is fucking boooooring live. No matter how much sexual tension they try to convey with the positioning of their mic stands, guitar fucking, singing in the same microphone and general innuendos; the stage looks empty and it feels like you’re watching a talent show.

Don’t get me wrong, The Kills sounded great last night. They played my favorite hits from the record and some of their new songs facilitated some boogie in my step. This is all well and good when I’m in the comfy chair jamming out, but when I’m seeing it live; my eyes need to be as happy as my ears. Last night the only thing keeping my eyes interested was Sean’s animated nature. Here are a few observations about last night:

--- They need a drummer. They need someone to ground the band. Right now its just these two floating around being butthumpers.
--- The lead singer bears a strong resemblance to writer Marc Spitz.
--- Sean is one of the best kids to have with you at a show.
--- The Kills story of coming together mirrors that of the Postal Service. Chicken or egg?

Cami and I ducked out prior to the end of their set. We stopped in the Allen Street Park for a few minutes to hang before departing. Beach was still at the Mercury so I popped in for a quick drink. Dana and Mia were reveling in Sam Roberts’ hotness so I spent most of my time trying to point the boy out. No luck though. With a healthy buzz and a need for sleep Dana and I broke out of the club. We exchanged stories about Friday night, had a laugh and said goodnight.

It was a good Monday.

posted by jayloose at 1:30 PM 6 comments   

I Was Feeling ‘Bout Half-Passed Dead.
Faithful reader do not get discouraged by my lack of meaningful (or meaningless depending on how perceive it) updates. As the focus of this new job comes into scope, a better understanding of an update schedule will develop. For now, bear with me and enjoy the ride. First off I’d like to say a few words regarding Wednesday’s show at Pianos.

Prior to the Head Set / Sam Champion gig a bunch of kids rolled through 186 for beers. Sean Bones and I decided we should start a band that will take down Walk Humongous. Be prepared for the band that will knock the white cowboy boots off of Williamsburgers. We will destroy all in our path, and Walk Humongous is first on the list. As the time grew close, Max, Dan and I finished up a card game and cruised to the club with Emma, Matt, Pooja and Dana. Pianos was nice a packed which is always a welcome sight when your friend’s bands are playing. After some quick hellos, we slid to the back room for Sam Champion. They debuted their new line up with Sean (x-bones) on guitar. Sam Champion let the screws loose on this set and really brought the rock. With the addition of Sean on guitar, little changes, but the songs do have more of a big Alt-country-indie-rock feel rather than the singer songwriter style portrayed by the quieter sets. It’s nice to see the band swing to opposite sides of pendulum. Their huge set pleased all the warm bodies in the packed room. I’m looking forward to watching them evolve as a four-piece.

Everyone filed outside to get some fresh air after Sam Champion finished. Christie was kind enough to score me a margarita from El Sombrero which I sipped while talking to Dave and some of the other Razor and Tie crew that came to the show. Jin was hanging with Dj who was a pal and let me nip off his Jim Beam. The three of us returned to the back room to catch a few songs from The Head Set. Pianos is rarely mentioned in a discussion of my favorite clubs, but something was on the money Wednesday night because The Head Set sounded superb. Jordan’s confident swagger fits his personality, and he just lets it shine through on stage. Though one could easily lump them with the New York sound (read: The Strokes, The Walkmen, etc), it’s important to note the instances where they step away from these bands. First of all that’s Jordan’s real voice you are hearing. Julian Casablancas please take note; though I love the Strokes, real singers don’t need vocal effects. Additionally, there are some unique guitar parts and drumming that give it a reggae or dancehall type feel. If I’m not mistaken, Elliot pulls off some great upstrokes on his axe that add a great layer to their well constructed songs.

Near the latter half of their set, Dj, Jin and I ducked out and made our way to The Delancey in hopes of seeing Free Blood which is a band that includes a couple members from one of my favorites, !!! (Chk Chk Chk). Unfortunately they were hitting for another hour so we decided to have a quick beer and call it a night.

Take A Load Off Belin.
Thursday wasn’t nearly as crazy as Wednesday, but it still had all the elements of a solid day. My morning and afternoon was spent in class at Cooper Union. My new position requires some training so I found myself back in the classroom performing the same time passing techniques I employed during college. Did I mention my severe distaste for schooling?

My early evening was spent with Christina who came over for our Loose meeting. We dined on the delicious Tiny’s prior to getting down to business. The meeting went really well, and we have resolved our copyright issues and are now ready to move forward with a new logo. Keep your eyes peeled for the new digs. Mike did a great job. In the aftermath of the meeting we toasted our step forward with some delicious bourbon Builder had squirreled away in his bedroom. The boys left Christina and I so we watched my taping of the O.C. episode that ran early that evening. Did you see it? It was mentioned in a previous update, but if you missed it, let me know I have it on tape. The Walkmen were featured in the episode, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll see the episode.

Endless Shrimps And A Side Of Puke.
Friday’s class was a breeze. Entertainment was provided by an email scandal surrounding the pending trip to Red Lobster. Christie was kind enough to entertain me during my lunch hour. We sat on a 9th Street stoop and sipped coffee in the decent weather. Builder and I sat around after work bitching at one another before the Shrimps crew began to trickle in. By 7:30pm we had Chernin, Beach, Daylen, Mia and Gigs in the house. We took a quick knifer and set out for Time Square. On our way in the subway, Builder made the call on a perfect Belin that found Noah, Builder, Gigs and I in a cab while the rest of the crew took the subway.

Time Square is a terrible place. Why do people flock to it? Tourists are fucking idiots. Anyway, Red Lobster was a mad house. Think of a packed show or some Vice party at Happy Endings and then image it ten times worse. So the party moved over to the bar portion of the three story fuckfest and sipped drinks while waiting for shrimp. With the prospect of a table growing distant, Noah and I decided to take matters into our own hands. We managed to snag a booth in the bar area where Builder, Noah and I ate a disgusting amount of food. This kind of shit needs to stop. Chili’s is definitely worth the bloated feeling one gets after eating Awesome Blossoms and what not, but I’ll never eat at Red Lobster again, (at least not until I have a few kids and work a shitty job in middle America). After dinner we took a quick walk, but it didn’t help much. We cruised upstairs to say farewell to the rest of the party. Noah, Lucy, Tumbleweed, Eileen and I snagged the F Train and returned to the neighborhood.

Noah and I hung out for a few before he took off and left me waiting to decide what the hell should be done with my evening. Stevo stopped by around 1am. His visit pushed me over the edge, so I chugged a Sparks, took a shower and made way for Welcome to the Johnsons. Did everyone in the East Village stop by Johnsons on Friday night? The bar was ridiculously packed, but we got drinks and had a seat with Dana and her friend Teresa. A few drinks and a few punches from Dana later, we were joined by Dee and Hawkins who added to the whole craziness of the evening. By the time last call was announced, everyone seemed to be in the bag. Everyone except me.

We figured our best bet would be a return back to 186 where we quickly woke the sleeping beauty known as Builder. We retired to the kitchen for some drunken antics that got sketchy as hell. It was the most awkward situation that has unfolded in 186’s chow room. Eventually most people trickled out while Dana and I decided it was time for her to watch last weeks episode of the O.C. Bad idea. I was passed out by the end and Dana can barely remember a second of it.

Talk Like A Moron. Act Like A Kid.
Saturday didn’t get started until 3pm. At this point I was on a mission for food. A quick call to Hawkins found me at Clinton Street Bakery with the Hawk, Anoush, Caroline (little Burley!) and her friend Chase. We dined over discussions of prescription drugs and how to get pot at different vacation spots. Little did they know, I’ve never gone anywhere. After brunch I hustled home to clean up for a night of work at Webster Hall. The Hives were headlining with the Rogers Sisters and The Deadly Snakes opening up. The night was a bit of a cluster fuck because we had a sold out show and the club had a big line for the dance party. Since I was directing traffic on Saturday, I froze my ass off. Following our shift, Noah and I went down to 186 to waste the evening watching U2 on Saturday Night Live. They are such loveable wanks. By the way, when did SNL get so fucking funny?

Sunday, Busted Sunday.
My Xanax induced slumber was interrupted by my need for football. Dan came over to watch the Jets stumble to a win against the Cleveland Browns. It was a terrible game, but Curtis played well and we got the win. Then I watched the Giants drop a ton of passes in Eli Manning’s NFL debut under center. It was quite pitiful, but sometimes you just have a bad day. Sunday the entire receiving core for the Giants had a collective poor game on Sunday. It was back to Webster Hall for work. The second night of The Hives was really mellow and the few songs I got to see were fantastic. Though I didn’t like the set they played at Irving a few months ago, they sounded right on last night. Pelle is a riot.

Turkey Day.
Are you one of the kids who, like me, decided to skip the holiday traffic this Thanksgiving to stay in the city? New York will come to a standstill, but we still want to party. If you know me or are completely at a loss, drop me a line because we are cooking a big dinner on Thursday. Consider yourself invited. It should be a drunken good time with the leftovers, (yeah, that’s what I’m calling the kids who stayed behind). If you have turkey plans and just want to party later in the weekend, give me a ring and we’ll set up a Culkin.

Random Notes.
*** The Sons of Sound changed their name to Saints and Lovers. They have a December 18th gig at the Mercury Lounge with Bishop Allen and We Are Scientists. Nice work on another local all-star evening.

*** Vanilla Ice or The Crocodile Hunter?

*** Who would have guessed? Craig IS crazy, (thanks to Jordan for the links).

posted by jayloose at 2:18 PM 4 comments   

FREE U2! Today!
U2 will be performing live tomorrow, Monday November 22 in DUMBO north of the the Brooklyn Bridge. The performance is being filmed by MTV for a feature on the release of "How to Dismantle and Atomic Bomb", and tickets are free through 1iota:

www.1iota.com , click on MTV surprise performance (it doesn’t say U2, but it is)

Monday, November 22, 2004
Arrival Time: 2:30 pm (show starts at 3:00pm)

Meeting Place: Empire Fulton Ferry State Park
Corner of Plymouth & Washington street
Brooklyn, NY (btwn the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges)

(You can take the F train from Manhattan to the York St. stop)

posted by jayloose at 8:21 AM 1 comments   

Welcome To The Promise Land.

I advise Builder to divert his eyes, lest he wants a perma-hard-on.

posted by jayloose at 3:19 PM 4 comments   

posted by jayloose at 9:45 AM 0 comments   

posted by jayloose at 3:23 PM 0 comments   

This Ain't Your Momma's Rock N' Roll.


*** So you already have plans tonight (Pianos... bitches), but tomorrow hop on the train and head uptown. Knife Skills will rock your shit, and then you have the whole K Records/Portland scene which is hotter than white cowboy boots. Do it!

posted by jayloose at 6:20 PM 5 comments   

Don’t Worry. We’re In No Hurry.
Last night was a blast. It began with Builder and me going over various business papers and me getting my Flavorpill listings in on time. Dana stopped in after work and our plans to get dinner were nearly thwarted by her love for the television. First it was some Million Billionaire show and then the Vibe Awards came on which could have spelled disaster. After much deliberation we made it to Kai Kai Thai on 1st and 1st, but I don’t believe it is Kai Kai any longer. Can someone explain this to me? We enjoyed a nice serving of gossip (I’m such a dink sometimes) along with our Pad whatevers and spring rolls.

Mike was hanging at 186 so I swept him up on my way to the Hanger. Natalka and I were supposed to talk party, but unfortunately she left minutes before we arrived. We decided to skip on drinks there and head up to Bside. On the way up Avenue B, we ran into the lady of honor outside of Max’s. She had just finished dinner with Molly, Brian, John, Christian, Kimmy, Ariel (I think) and maybe a few others. We joined forces and cruised up to the bar. The friendly confines of Bside were extremely inviting last night. There was a sense of nostalgia in last night because, as Anna put it, “I’m going out the same way I came in.” Bookends are choice. We all should have the ability to bookend our life. To put the sugar on the doughnut, Anna approached me when the White Stripes, You’re Pretty Good Looking came on the jukebox. She reminded me of the first time we met. It was a few summers ago in Grass Roots Tavern after a Kick gig at the Continental. We immediately clicked on all cylinders and by the end of the night I was promising her a mix tape.

Yeah, go ahead and judge me. A mix tape! How fucking cliché am I? Just hold your judgment for one goddamn second. There I was, dumbfounded by a beautiful California girl who loved rock n’ roll and was actually interested in hearing me blabber on about bands she knew only by name. So a mix tape was the answer. Was I trying to win her over? You bet your ass I was. You meet a girl like Anna Lane and you automatically want her in your corner.

As Anna told me last night, she figured that tape would never be made. Little did she know, that night I was already constructing the zenith of all tapes in my head. There is always that innate want to push your taste on someone, but for Anna it was about introducing her to the rock that would fill the rest of her summer days in NYC. The mix tape was constructed in the days that followed, and I carried it around like a lap dog hoping to see her in the L.E.S. The next time I saw Anna, a surprising handoff was made and a kickass friendship was started. Anna and I have seen some good times and even a bad time or too, but through it all, it’s the things like our trip to D.C., our nights together on dance floors and my visit to San Francisco that stand out beyond anything else.

Additionally, there is one moment with Ms. Lane that will always stay with me. She probably doesn’t remember this lazy day, but I sure do. It was like a dream. The summer we met, we spent a day lying in Washington Square Park starring up at the clouds talking about nothing in general. We weren’t together in any sense of the word, so don’t misconstrue any of this, but my head was in her lap and at that moment, I was able to feel completely vulnerable again. Though it was fleeting, it did help me realize that sometimes we just need to get lost in nothing and feel completely at ease with it.

This sounds like a longwinded love letter, but it’s just my thoughts surrounding a classic girl. It’s not like she is leaving forever. Anna did promise to be back later this summer. Will she make it? I know one guy who sure hopes so. Good luck Anna!

As the night pressed on, Mike and I were playing some Connect Four when Josh Stein joined us. Josh informed me he is now part of the Flavorpill team which is sweet because that kid is entrenched in a scene I couldn’t begin to explain; burlesque. Then Hawkins felt me up upon his entry with Sean and Anoush. Hawkins has to stop groping me. Doesn’t he know I hate it when anything touches me? I’m a fucking head case. He should be the first to realize this. Anoush and I got to bounce some business ideas off each other. His company is called ECAD Consulting and it’s an Apple only consulting and solutions firm. They are currently based out of NYC, but Anoush has plans to open operations on the West Coast. Anoush and I were neighbors during our first semester at NYU, and the kid was always working on his computer. The company he’s started seems like a natural fit. If you, your family members and/or especially your bosses are clueless and need some assistance setting something up for your business or home, drop Anoush a line. He’ll hook you up; my boy is wicked smmmmart. Cami stopped in and we got to have a quick hang before I decided to head home for some much needed rest.

And It’s A Pretty Nice Haircut.
Now that I’m done with all the reminiscing, allow me to get to some business. Tonight, a bitching show is going down at Pianos. The bill showcases The Head Set who is currently in the second leg of their month long residency (congrats!). They will hit at 9:30pm. Taking the stage prior to tHS is the good ole boys of Sam Champion who now feature Sean x-Bones on guitar. They are kicking you in the nuts around 8:30pm. You’ve heard me talk a lot about both of these bands. You know I dig them, so get off you ass, come down to the club and figure it out for yourself. The show is only seven damn dollars. Eat Subway this evening and save the rest of your cash for this rock show. Make sure you arrive on time because a birdy told me 8:30SHARP.

Question: Does anyone know if Chicago’s, The Changes is playing? WTF?

posted by jayloose at 10:04 AM 13 comments   

posted by jayloose at 3:03 PM 6 comments   

Field Day For The Sundays.
Another weekend has come and gone, and though I spent most of Friday trying to convince Beach that my drinking skills have declined, Friday night would beg to differ. My Dirty On Purpose imposed hangover lasted all day. A headache refused to leave me alone, but my last day in the old office couldn't have been better. It came and went like any old day, which is exactly what I requested. No parties. No speeches. No nothing. My boss teary towards quitting time, but the younger crew was pumped for the post work drinks. David, Lauren, David and I walked around in search of cheap margaritas. Our search led us to Caliente Cab Co. Its one of the cheesiest places in the neighborhood, but it suited our needs. We got the evening started with heaps of frozen drinks and shots of tequila. David, who has no qualms about being a lightweight, got hilariously drunk. He also threw down for the bill, which was amazing. Thanks David! Lauren's friend Barbara joined us and rounded out the crew nicely. I was really lucky to have worked in an office with amazing people.

My night was just beginning, but I could barely hold myself up to hail a cab. I made a quick stop by 186 to pick-up the tape of Thursday's episode of The O.C. before heading to Dana's to bask in her illness while catching up on the Cohen's with her and Sylvia. This week’s episode was a hundred times better than the season premier. We see the kids quickly returning to last season’s form. Seth tried the whole table top love profession. Ryan saw Marissa making out with sketch-city, the pool boy. Summer is trying to hold out against the Cohen charm while Marissa throws her frumpy self all over the town. Did you see that house Caleb lives in? I’d shit my pants on the regular if my hat hung in that domicile. The big story on this episode, besides Jimmy’s desperate attempt to get Haley to stay on the show, was Caleb’s indictment. The family was sitting around enjoying some Chinese take-out when the poe-poe showed up to take grandpa to the slammer. It’s up to Sandy to bail him out, but what can he do with a cunt like Julie Cooper threatening to drag Kristen through the mud with her husband. This week should prove to be mucho interesting.

Once we finished our post show wrap up, I made way for the Bowery. Being one to sacrifice fashion (or lack there of) for comfort, I froze my ass off on the way to the venue. Kyle was waiting out front when I arrived, and we quickly slid into the warmth thanks to D. who was working the door. We searched the ballroom for pieces of the crew and eventually stumbled upon Nate and Amy who were guarding the back corner. While we waited for Hot Snakes to take the stage we did a quick tequila shot and I endured some ribbing from Tony who wouldn’t believe that Nate and I aren’t brothers. We definitely have a separated at birth look to us, but can’t we just leave that joke alone? Hot Snakes finally took the stage and their first three songs were a little off. They weren’t flashing the innate power of the music, so when they finally took a break after the third song, numerous onlookers (including me) yelled, “Turn it up!”

By the fourth song, they were rocking my face off. Some might think the monotone vocals get old after 40 minutes, but they could have played all night. The crowd was definitely digging the rock Hot Snakes was serving. They played one of my favorite new songs, Mystic Decade, early in the set, but they also (from my accounts) neglected to play another great new song, Kreative Kontrol. It didn’t really matter because they played all my jams off of Suicide Invoice. Halfway through their set Jin called me from an oddball number. She told me to shoot up to the balcony for a quick drink. She was hanging with none other than the infamous Scat Turdly who also goes by Jamie, (for work and church purposes). It was great to finally meet the faceless rogue who pleasantly pollutes the comments section with witty banter.

We returned to the floor where Denise came up to join us for the rest of the set. Following the encore and the conclusion of the set, S.T. came down and graciously bought us tequila shots. How many? I couldn’t begin to remember, but he played a major factor in me passing out at the foot of my bed in all my clothes while using a backpack for a pillow. We went downstairs to hangout for a bit, and Nate took me upstairs to meet the band. It was my first time in the Bowery band room, and like a jackass, I lined my pockets with Coronas. Thankfully the band wasn’t in there to see me pulling my own sketchball move, but we ran into John on the main floor and I can’t even remember what was discussed.

Never Under Estimate The Weight.
Fast forward 8 hours, and I had to peal myself off the floor of my bedroom. Builder returned home from a self-imposed exodus to New Jersey with a heap of good books which reminded me it was time to finally read The Catcher in the Rye. With J.D.’s masterpiece in my pocket, I hit the F Train for a trip out to Brooklyn. Since it had been nearly a month since I ventured to the faraway borough, it felt nice to take a day trip even if a transfer was necessary.

Noah’s place has changed since my last visit. The boys who reside in that apartment have turned it into a prime party spot, (that’s a big hint to Noah). We sat around listening to some records before Noah destroyed me with a single knifer. Then we got the bright idea to play video games, but it was a little too intense for this stoney baloney. We sat back and enjoyed a Dave Clark Five record which really blew my mind. For awhile I thought it was a Beatles record, but Noah set me straight. Dan and Emma stopped in and we all marveled at the new William Shatner record, Has Been. The album is so self-effacing, but as Dan pointed out, when you are a joke and you embrace the fact that you are a joke; you are no longer a joke. Shatner enlisted Ben Folds to produce the record, and though the desired results may have satisfied the creators, it made me want to puke in my mouth. Shatner is so full of shit and the fact that Henry Rollins added some vocals to this proves he should be lumped in the same category.

One bright spot on the record was the Joe Jackson assisted cover of Pulp’s Common People. The arrangement of the song and the spoken word style of vocalization gave the song an entirely different fell. It stripped it of its party atmosphere and forces listeners to take part in the tragedy of the lyrics. All bands attempting to cover artists should use this as a blue print. It affects the audiences approach and emotion relative to the song.

Dan and I walked over to his neighborhood for a quick hang before Dilly and Joe from Arbor Day came to pick us up. On our way to the city, we picked up Andy and stopped by Abe’s to snag the Bahamas’ new record. From what I heard, the new record is much more thought out than the rushed first effort, (partly my fault). The record shows their maturity and willingness to grow as a cohesive song writing team. Let’s hope they play another show.

Alister, Kyle and I hung out for awhile at 186 prior to me popping into the Mercury Lounge to have a quick drink with Beach, Tumbleweed, Makia, Daylen and Lucy. We snagged a beer and caught a set from Your Code Name Is: Milo. It’s a terrible name, but the band kicked some serious ass. They are a five-piece British band who pumps out aggressive rock akin to At the Drive In, but with more metal drippings than hardcore tendencies. The little elf of a lead singer squeals and screams when needed, but he brings it back to earth for the verses. Expect a full-length out soon. They may a good version of bands like Funeral for a Friend.

After their set, I stopped into the Luna Lounge to catch a glimpse at Pela. I only caught a couple songs, but they weren’t really doing it for me. This could have been due to the fact that YCNI:M just finished filling me with the need to break things. This prompted me to go back to 186 to slug a quick beer before returning to Luna for a solid Arbor Day set. These guys are starting to come together, and even though they still wait till the 11th hour to promote their shows, the room always has bodies in it. They finished up and the crew milled about outside, as we always do, so I decided to shoot back over to the Mercury Lounge. The Upwelling was taking the stage, and this three-piece didn’t do much for me. Cami, Builder and Alister stopped in so we took the party to the basement for awhile. After a few more drinks, a successful Culkin on Makia and some drunken J.B. antics, Cami and I set out to meet up with the rest of the crew.

On our trek to The Hanger, we realized no one was actually there so we decided to grab some food. After much deliberation (Katz or Bistro), we decided to hit up 7A. Naturally I scored a Tuna Melt and Cami was all about her burger. We enjoyed the food and the company before parting ways. Cami and I always have a kick ass time when we go on little missions. Then I wondered aimlessly trying to find the kids, but they weren’t picking up their cells. Sarah and Sean were in Johnson’s where everyone else was supposed to show but didn’t. We stopped back into the Mercury to no avail and decided to call it a night. A half hour later, Dan, Erin, Kyle, Stevo and Deeznuts walked into 186 and we sat up talking about nothing of importance for hours.

No Rest On The Sabbath.
My non-alcohol induced slumbers always end a bit to early, but it ended up being a good thing because Dana and I were able to meet for a cup of coffee prior to the Loose Record meeting. Dana took me to her regular spot on Avenue B called DT/UT, (I think it stands for Downtown Uptown). After managing to spill my coffee twice, we finished up so I wouldn’t be late. Christina and Builder were already working when I returned. Mike soon joined us and we had a promising meeting. Following the bizness at hand, Mike and I set out to find a piece of equipment he could shoot for the logo. We walked down to the Triple-Five store so Rothfeld could do a quick exchange and then made way to Union Square.

Our first stop was Guitar Center on 14th and 6th. They have tons of equipment in that store. We searched for my cousin Jared who is a manager in the store, but we came up empty. We did find the holy grail of logo equipment. I took the tag off it and Mike took heaps of photos. We were psyched to find it, but pressed on in search of a receiver or soundboard that could be the big winner. Stops at Circuit City and PC Dicktard and Son proved to be worthless so we called it an evening. Later that night, I was called into work the Helmet show at the Bowery Ballroom. It was super slow, but I had a good time working the 2nd door. The nice part was I was home by 11pm and watched a tape of Arrested Development. That show is gold.

New Ryan Leaf.
Yesterday I started my new job. Having an office with a door is so fucking sweet. Right now I’m just hanging out on my lunch hour listening to The Flaming Lips while hammering out a blog entry. Expect more of this in the future. For now enjoy a couple links.

*** If you are looking for action tonight, check this out.

*** If you hate anything below the Mason Dixon, check this out, (Thanks Tumbleweed).

*** If you love drugged up former playmates, check this out, (Thanks Dana).

posted by jayloose at 1:20 PM 4 comments   

Ten Years To The Minute.
Ahhhhhh… this feels good. It is my final work day in a cube. On Monday I’m moving into my own office. I’m considering driving home to get the show flyers that adorned my bedroom for so many years, but come to think of it, mom striped them off the walls and painted the room. So I’m in need of some artwork for my office, because it is lacking serious flavor. Honestly, the new NYU Law building’s administrative offices have only one color; grey. The designers must have looked to Brazil for inspiration. There are many shades of grey, but its all grey. The carpets, the walls, my file cabinets, my desk, my lamp, my computer and even my chair are all grey. The office in need of a serious color injection, but I’ll probably just hang up my Ramones poster.

Today marks the end of an era. Since 2000 I’ve worked with the people in my office. A few have come and gone, but we are still the same core. My initial job was a student worker, but my need to stop the financial bleeding along with the departure of my superior opened the door for me as a full-time employee. Did the kid who used to play air guitar along to his Queen records envision this life style? Definitely not, but something has to pay the bills so I can play in the nighttime. Thankfully my boss, Margie, has championed me throughout the years. She guided me through these questionable years; an action which deserves my utmost appreciation.

Packing my desk is easier than expected. Though the new office has me totally psyched, I’m going to miss my frontline co-workers. Early morning conversations with my boy David and various scandalous talks with Lauren will be sorely missed. The recent “Shot Challenge” between co-workers may culminate tonight if the Hot Snakes don’t contact me soon, but hopefully it will sort itself out. So you know, I have to take a shot every time I say “Bitches.” My count is nearing 20.

Make Room For Our New Friends.
Yesterday’s post work hours were filled with… guess what… more work! After some home cooked Japanese treats and an extremely difficult abstain from watching the first half of the O.C. (it was taped, so don’t give me any clues), I headed for the Bowery. On my way down there, I ran into Dan of Second Dan which is an Australian band that is making some New York appearances while Dan finishes some schooling. Keep a look out for their name in the coming months.

It’s been awhile since my last time through the Bowery, so it was great to catch up with all the security guys. Noah was working the door last night and made me pay double, which wasn’t cool, but I dealt. Del was hanging by his side with a solid buzz working. We decided to go sit at the balcony bar for a few where Jim was making the drinks. His buddy (maybe Andy) joined us as did Jin and DTL. Jin may have been the only person more psyched for the show than me. Dirty on Purpose started their set to a handful of people and by the end of it, the room was filling up. They kicked off the set with my favorite song, Monument which is an instrumental track DJ wrote. The song began with some haunting sounds from George’s guitar. They had the unique familiarity of whale calls or something that was immersed in water. These sounds mixed with the sporadic strobe of the stage lights made for a grandiose intro to one of the best songs in my heavy rotation.

There is something about Dirty on Purpose that is simply untouchable. They have it all. The songs are there, and even the new tunes (which George later told me aren’t new, but they are newish) have this undeniable authenticity. It’s nice to see five kids really care about what their producing rather than just writing a song built around one hook and rushing its release to make a few dollars, (only to be a footnote in most press outlets a year later). They played some of my favorites like (and forgive me if the names are wrong) Go Back to Sleep, Mind Blindness, All New Friends and Spider Eyes. A great aspect of the band is the delicate nature of all the vocalists. Some may misconstrue this as a lack of confidence, but even though each vocal part feels like it could fall off the map at any second, they are right on.

Let’s take a quick second to recognize George’s craft on his guitar. The kid must sleep with his guitar. The guy knows how to get exactly what he wants from his instrument. I was watching his finger tabbing while he was using the bow during a song. It’s an amazing sight. You must give it a look.

Another solid aspect to seeing DoP in a Grade A venue is the volume. They were turned way the fuck up and it wasn’t that ear bleeding wall of sound shit that makes you want to leave Sin-e. It made their music powerful. The volume forced the audience to not only hear the songs, but also feel them. I’m not talking about some drum and bass thumping in your chest. There was an emotional attachment to the songs. A seriousness that sometimes get lost when they play a more intimate venue. Last night I felt Dirty on Purpose, and let me tell you, they felt good (insert a perverse joke from Joe here).

While the Hidden Cameras hammered away at their circus pop that doesn’t turn me on, I sat upstairs with the kids from Dirty on Purpose. They are such a great make of people. Though I’ve yet to properly meet Erika, I can safely say they are the nicest band in the tri-state area. DJ clued me in on the fact that he regularly visits the blog which always makes me feel like a nerd, but thanks for reading. He told me this show was the first time he played his new homemade bass rig which sounded spot on. I had to ask Doug if he was holding back at all because he wasn’t pounding away at the kit, (except for the Spidereyes intro). He explained how the drums were really loud on stage, and I explained how it was merely an observation rather than a criticism. Joe seemed preoccupied, (being the only member to cash in on actually being in a band). George filled me in on the new lighting guy who had only been to a one practice before pulling off last night. DoP is fucking rad.

Next Stop: Bowery Ballroom.
Along with the Arcade Fire, the hype train made a stop at the club last night. The Bowery was jammed with kids trying to see the Canadian boy (and one girl) wonders. The crowd included heaps of bloggers, tons of friends, the entire Bowery crew, David Byrne and David Bowie. Yes, that’s right. While we anxiously waited for The Arcade Fire to take the stage, Gigs and I were combing the balcony in the hopes of getting a glimpse at Mr. Bowie. In the same instance Gigs and I found him and squealed like school girls as we basked in his radiant cool. It was delicious as was the tequila shot Beach passed me during the set.

Speaking of the set (I’ve never seen Lucy and Danny so excited for a show), The Arcade Fire were good, but not great. They played all of my favorites and I dutifully sung along, but there was something missing. It was too quiet. The show reminded me of the snoozefest that was The Concretes CMJ show. Their energy and the bouncing around of the Napoleon Dynamite looking member brought it all together. Did they ask for it to be a comfortable volume? It wasn’t at the volume you fall asleep to, but it was at the volume just loud enough for homework. By the near end of their set, I was drunk so before an ass was made, my wobbly legs guided me home.

GO SEE THE HOT SNAKES TONIGHT @ THE BOWERY!!!

posted by jayloose at 3:46 PM 5 comments   

posted by jayloose at 2:40 PM 0 comments   

Can I Get A Drum Roll Please?
After much anticipation, November Eleventh is finally here. This date marks the beginning of three nights of rock shows in a row. First in my date book is tonight’s show at the Bowery Ballroom. Kicking things off is an all around bunch of nice kids who are better known as Dirty On Purpose. You’ll want to make sure you get to the club early because this five-piece is hitting at 9pm and if we’re lucky they’ll play Monument. Take a minute to stop by the merch table because word on the street is they have something special for those in attendance. We love hand made collectibles. Squeezed in between two of my current favorites is the Canadian queer pop of the Hidden Cameras. Their kooky rock style isn’t my particular brand of cigarette, but it is refreshing in a land ruled by post punk dance rock. Headliners, The Arcade Fire, sold this show out a few days after their much hyped CMJ show at the Mercury Lounge. If lady luck is on my side, I’ll be able to check this band out and deliver my extremely biased opinion to the two of you waiting in the wings.

What could top a huge night like Thursday? The answer lies in the Hot Snakes show on Friday night at the Bowery. This will be my first time laying eyes on their gritty punk sounds, and I couldn’t be more excited. My formal disclaimer to all those who plan to attend on Friday; I apologize for spilling beer, dancing obnoxiously and otherwise altering your opinion of the show. My advice to you: let loose, get drunk and prepare for some ruckus. If you’re a fan of Rocket From the Crypt or Drive Like Jehu, come see why they are raising such a stink.

The cherry on top of this sundae comes in the form of a Saturday night FREE show at the Luna Lounge featuring my good friends in Arbor Day. As they continue to tighten their sound, one thing can be certain; these boys are obsessed with Brian Wilson. Their sun drenched pop style is often interlaced with the occasional heavy riff or dark melody almost to prove they are really from the East Coast. If you like FREE rock, Dan’s beard or the Beach Boys then you’ll dig this show. Get there early for the local kids who call themselves Pela. I’ve heard good things, but will hold my opinion until after the show.

Don’t forget to return home after the Arbor Day gig because Modest Mouse is playing Saturday Night Live. Their schedule has them playing the standard two songs so expect to hear both singles from the new record.

I’d Give Up Sex For Kreative Kontrol.
The past couple nights have been down right cold, but most of us know it’s just the tip of the iceberg. This winter will probably be harsh and my delicate skin isn’t ready for it. Actually, I could care less. Winter is my season. Having all this human insulation comes in handy when trying to uphold the mission of fashion before comfort, (if you consider fashion jeans and a t-shirt).

With the cold on my mind, I bundled up for Tuesday night’s Sold Out show at Webster Hall. Who knew this band was so huge? The room was more packed than I had ever seen it which is good for everyone involved. We managed to get close to all of the Muse fans into the ballroom. Everyone was in high spirits, except for my frozen toes. After finishing my tour of duty, I went upstairs to catch a few songs only to confirm my disliking of the band. It was the second time I’d seen Muse live and like the first, I couldn’t handle more than a few songs. Someone tell me why there is so much love?

Yesterday was super mellow. Instead of braving the elements, I stayed at home and did some much needed catching up on my personal work. It’s always nice to be productive without being pushed. This kitchen work session also gave me the chance to listen to the Louis XIV single Sarah kindly brought to me on Tuesday evening. Sarah is definitely a purveyor of Jay Rock. On most occasions our tastes seem to align (sans Killers), and she introduces me to something that would have taken me a few weeks to find. Call it cutting edge or whatever, but I just call it helpful. So buy the first single on her label endeavor called Stolen Transmission. It’s quite good. It has the post-punk dance feel to it, but I also hear a lot of The Hives angular rock riffage, some Eagles of Death Metal harmonies and the dark rhythms of Joy Division. I also listened to Wilco’s latest; A Ghost is Born. This record has a couple songs that have timeless rock riffs and some pretty big sleepers. Though some of this album forced me to turn on the snooze, Spiders had me standing at attention with my air guitar in hand.

Speaking Of Loose Record.
With our launch date growing ever closer, I’m hoping more of you will come out of the woodwork with a desire to put your penmanship to the test. We are looking to put together a solid team of writers, so if you or someone you know has the skills to pay the bills or just loves independent music, please direct them to Loose Record and ask the to drop us an email.

Don't forget to watch O.C. Episode #2 tonight before heading out! Noah tells me that last night Conan told Seth Cohen how much he loves the show.

posted by jayloose at 11:18 AM 0 comments   

Need A Time Waster?
Leave it to good old Tumbleweed (who was rocking to Muse last night) to send me yet another terrific tool of procrastination. Check out the gallery section of Sorry Everybody and realize most of us are not alone. It's the lighter side of losing one of the most important elections ever.

Here is a sample of what you'll see...

posted by jayloose at 9:16 AM 4 comments