Snow Excuse For Staying Home.
Last night I stayed in to power through some work that piled up over the past few shitshows. There was an obvious break in the action when 8pm rolled around. Yesterday’s episode of The O.C. made me laugh out loud at its absurd nature. All of a sudden the writers are trying to transport us back to the middle of last season. The new characters are pulling an Oliver, (the gun waving pill popper from last season). Lindsay is moving to Chicago with her mom even though Caleb is her real father. There was some definite confusion in the doctor’s office when they gathered for the DNA test results. Once they announced the positive match, there was a lag time in which I thought they might say her mom isn’t her mom. Either way, she is gone. I’ll miss you Lindsay, but not as much as Anna. Then there’s the kindhearted jock named Zach who can’t seem to match the lure of quirky Cohen. Summer bailed on the trip to Italy on which Zach planned to let her use his V-card at the VTM. Zach will still be in Newport, but from the looks of ‘scenes from’ he will be written out or play the post dater role like Luke. Alex survived this episode, but it isn’t looking good for her character. Ryan and Marissa shared a moment, and the next new episode has him eavesdropping on some girl chat where Marissa reveals her feelings for him. The best part about last nights episode was the Louis XIV riff played over the scene where the girls were making out behind Julie Cooper in the kitchen.

Speaking of Ms. Cooper, she used to dine at the pink taco stand much like Marissa. Julie probably made for a delicious lesbian, but a girl like her doesn’t strike me as the type. She probably just got drunk at her sorority with a few girls and had a bit of an orgy. Her experimenting couldn’t have involved calling another beauty her girlfriend. While were talking about adults, what the fuck is the deal with the fugitive. Rebecca has caused enough problems, and I wish she’d let the Cohen’s go back to their normalcy. Fortunately my wish came true when she fled the scene of a car accident where Sandy was piloting the motor-coach. This left some more questions such as: where the hell are you going, do you have any money and aren’t you concerned no one will pick you up after the rain strips your makeup to reveal your hidden manhood?

One last thing: The Spiderman rip-off was fucking ridonkulous. It made me puke. But don’t worry; the show is redeeming itself with the indie rock. The new Soundtrack (MIX 4) comes out April 5th and it features The Futureheads, Modest Mouse and Beck. You can get the details here.

Current Obsession: The Upwelling, Murdered By a Big Bomb (Self-Titled EP)

No Sleep Till Crooklyn.
So it snowed. Cry me a river. Mother Nature should not hamper your weekend plans. If your calendar has yet to be filled, check out some of these options. It should be a solid weekend overflowing with drunken memories.

*** Tonight the nice chaps of Arbor Day are playing an early set at The Delancey (168 Delancey). Stick around for The Victoria Lucas which must be Andy’s 69th band or something. Arbor Day is booked at 9pm and the show is a mere $7.

*** Unfortunately I’m missing the Arbor Day show to go see I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness open for Longwave at the Northsix (66 N6, Bklyn). Yeah, it’s a big leap. Brooklyn two weekends in a row, but this is a great show for only $10. Tickets seem to be still available, but give the box office a call just so you don’t get shut down at the front door. You can check out an MP3 of Chosen Darkness in their Catalog page.

*** Attention Dancing Machines: If you are at the show, why not join us in continuing the party at Justin Carter’s party. The always smiling, bent on revenge friend of mine throws massive gatherings that break down into raunchy dance parties that rage till the sun shines.


Check out the email he sent out earlier this week.

New Release Presents... Yet another all-night dance-off
@ Asterisk (258 Johnson Ave in Brooklyn)
Friday, February 25th (9p until you fall asleep on the floor)
$5 door/$3 beer

Di(e)rections:

By Subway: L to Montrose. Walk one block down Bushwick to Johnson. Take a left. Look for the red asterisk on the right.

By Automobile: Williamsburg Bridge to Queens bound BQE. Exit on Humboldt. Go south, and make a left on Grand. Make a right on Bushwick, then a left on Johnson. Look for the red asterisk on your right.

Saturday Looks Ridiculous To Me.
Saturday is going to kick me in the balls. Hopefully I can sneak some sleep in tonight before getting up and going buck wild for the second evening in a row. The itinerary looks something like this:

*** 1:30pm: Meet the crew at Path Station for trip to (Dirty) Jersey City.
*** 2:00pm: Stuff my face at the new Chili's out by the mall.
*** 5:00pm: Return to 186 for wardrobe change and Chilis release program.
*** 6:00pm: Ian Brown call at Webster Hall.
*** 9:00pm: Culkin Unsuspecting Brits.
*** 10:30pm: Direct the bridge and tunnel crowd.
*** 11:30pm: Tequila, Boobytrap and Peelander-Z at Mercury Lounge.
*** 1:30am: Funnel beers like its my job in honor of Jeff Pfiel.
*** 4:00am: Chicken Fingers at 2A followed by vomit session.
*** 5:30am: Hope someone takes me home.

Jeff promises 2 1-person funnels and 1 2-person funnel. Oveis, if you want to come warm me up for Warrior Mania II, then show your face. If you guys want to see what I learned during my formidable years in the gay porn industry, then show up and stick around. Here are the details:

I'm throwing myself a party at my place on Saturday Feb 26. I'll be hanging out and drinking there all day so feel free to stop by anytime, but the official party time is 8pm. There WILL be a funnel, but feel free to bring any other drinking apparatus that might make the drinking faster and more entertaining (i.e. hats, crazy straws, etc). Most importantly, bring beer. Also, bring some other people too.

I love you all. Happy birthday to me.
-Jeff P.

The address is 540 Henry St.

Take the F or G to the Carroll Street stop. Get out at the President St exit. Walk with traffic on President til you hit Henry. Make a Left on Henry. It's on your right. Buzz #2.

If you are coming late, the President St exit may be closed. Exit at 2nd Pl. Walk with traffic along 2nd Pl until you hit Henry. Make a right on Henry for a couple blocks. It's on your Left between Carroll and President.

posted by jayloose at 1:01 PM 26 comments   

posted by jayloose at 4:50 PM 3 comments   

It’s Thursday Night. Just Do It.
#1.) DJ Del @ Mickey’s Blue Room (171 Ave C / 10pm / FREE)
#2.) Atomique feat. Tarts of Pleasure @ Eleven (152 Orchard St / 10pm / FREE)
#3.) Hockey Night @ Rothko (116 Suffolk St / 11pm / $8)
#4.) Unsacred Hearts w/Man in Grey & Go Station @ Luna (171 Ludlow / 8:30pm / FREE)

Words From The Street.
*** The Swedish invasion continues: Mando Diao has announced two shows at the Mercury Lounge on April 25th and 26th (the latter is with the Raveonettes). They will return on May 25th for an additional night at the Mercury.

*** The Cornerstone assault on my inbox has come with mixed reviews, but you should check out some of the music they are pushing. First of all, the Louis XIV track Finding Out True Love is Blind is one of my favorite songs as of late, but this version is a bit different from the one on Ultragrrrl’s Stolen Transmission release. A little more polished which isn’t always my favorite thing, but it scratches the itch. They also passed the link to the Aqualung single. This sounds a bit like Phoenix if they weren’t French and didn’t have such a hard on for Jameroqui. They are playing the Bowery on March 21, and I’m sure there will be a bunch of hot girls there so get your tickets. Finally, there is Blue Merle who hails from the south. Don’t let their name full you. They don’t get the Led out, but they do have some nice acoustic sounds. Not for me, but you should decide for yourself.

*** I always knew the guys in Korn were complete douchebags, but seriously Brian, you’ve one-upped your overall doucheness with this move. Donkey punches anyone?

*** As we constant wonder what will happen once the White Stripes run out of juice, answers like this pop up on the radar. Big words from Benson, but these guys do have some goods.

*** Do you see what happens, Josh? Do you see what happens when you won’t stop huffing computer duster? All jokes aside, this kind of sucks.

*** You don’t have to tell me. I know she sucks, but seriously, when Torn was on MTV every ten minutes back in high school it was Boner City on South West Third Street.

*** The Sasquatch line-up is completely out of control. Wilco, The Pixies, Arcade Fire, Kanye West, Arcade Fire, Modest Mouse, Bloc Party, Joanna Newsom and AC Newman are just a few of the acts already posted on the bill. Fuck Coachella, (I’m sorry New Order, but I can’t afford you).

*** How much do you know about David Bowie? Well, apparently I only know 60 points worth of information. Does this make me some sort of loser.

*** American homeless people are complete bullshit. All you can muster up is 6 layers of t-shirts and shit stained jeans. Hobo’s listen up; the Koreans are kicking your ass in the race for best dressed vagabond. Are you just going to sit there begging for change while they get the spotlight? Fuck.

*** Noah sent me this and his IM read, “couldn’t have said it better.” You know he loves this kind of press.

*** This is almost as stupid as Tipper Gore’s crusade against hip hop. What the fuck? Pete is just living his life. Why attack the artist? Shouldn’t your finger be waving at the media? Punks. Pete still has the option to get high or by with a little help from his friends.

posted by jayloose at 3:18 PM 0 comments   

Cause There Is No Time.
Yesterday’s twilight hours were hilarious. After a long double shift day, Builder and I sat in the living room bitching about how our lives never have a second to calm down. It feels like we are wound so tight in this city, but this is no surprise. Sleep has lost all priority. Maybe tonight I can score some extra ZZZ’s. This was last night’s plan, but we decided hanging out while learning new tie knots was more important. We were like a couple of jackasses. We tried the Windsor. It looked like garbage. We tried the Half-Windsor. It looked like shit. As our impatience grew, I pulled the Pratt knot’s instructions up on the interweb, and the winner was found. While going through the motions, I realized this was my father’s knot of choice. It was taught to me at a young age, but it didn’t stick like the birds and bees discussion. When I ‘matured’ to a tie wearing age, advice came from outlets like Hawkins or Bruce. Last night was the first time finding my dad’s knot, and it felt kind of strange. The little things hidden deep in your memory are a treat to remember. Anyway, I tied one for Builder, and his reaction was, “Yes! Now I look like I know what I’m doing.” We then proceeded to practice, but couldn’t pull off something as tight as his ‘interview’ tie. As I mentioned last night, it was like being able to see for a minute before returning to blindness. We are still jackasses.

Back To The Lecture At Hand.
After work I hustled home and was greeted by Nutsack, (our new wireless network). It is a beautiful thing. Now all the internet porn can be kept in the bedrooms. By 7pm I was at Webster Hall for the Kings of Leon show. There was a solid work crew assembled last night, and everything went smoothly. Hopefully the people inside had as much fun as we did working the door. A quick set of thanks to Jordan who was kind enough to bring me a copy of Kings of Leon new record Aha Shake Heartbreak and to Cara who brought my shivering ass coffee. Once the band took the stage, Dan came into help with the front while Gigs went to rock out. During their last song, my duties were complete so I cruised upstairs to grab Cara. The two of us, along with Dan, headed the back way to get a closer look at the Followill boys for their encore while joining forces with Mia. The band was quickly coaxed out of the dressing room by a rousing chant of ‘Kings!’ by the crowd. They pleased the kids with Holy Roller Novocain. We bailed before hearing the second song.

On my walk home I ran into Audrey and Dennis who just came from the Mercury. Dennis was raving about The End of the World so I wished them well and hustled to check them out. Greg and James were holding it down as I passed the threshold and slid to the back where Beach, DTL and Haley were bouncing around. It managed to slip my mind that Ben played guitar in this band. Liz tried to get me out to their shows on numerous occasions, but my fear of a friend’s unknown band kept me from their gigs. This is a damn shame because I was thoroughly impressed with their sound. It is on the soft rock side of things, but only because the mix isn’t creating waves in your vodka tonic. Ben plays melodies that would put Mr. Albert Hammond to shame, but don’t think this is another Strokes knock off. The rhythm section sounds somewhat buried, but this is on purpose. The snare doesn’t have the sharp call of most, but the drummer gets away with creating danceable soundscapes with his cymbals while the bass player warms things up by cruising around the frets. The lead singer is a diamond in the rough. Looking more philosophy major than purveyor of rock, their front man has an unspoken cool. He is the type of kid who quietly mingles through a party while people line up to hear his latest breakthrough. The voice is a bit tough to peg, but its somewhere between Ted Leo and Hamilton Leithauser. Give them a shot. You’ll like what you hear.

Current Obsession: LCD Soundsystem, Great Release (from self-titled debut).

posted by jayloose at 12:29 PM 0 comments   

Better Late Than Never.
Monday morning I received an email from Whitney regarding a call to hard drugs. This didn’t make sense to me because it would conflict with the new romantic movement. I opened the email and it simply read, “We should do some hard drugs. Hunter S. Thompson shot himself.” I jumped to Yahoo News to confirm the suicide of the greatest American counter culture journalist ever. The news was a severe blow especially since I’ve lost someone very, very close to me in the same manner. What would drive you to turn a gun on yourself? What was troubling him? How does this ever happen? Well, Tumbleweed doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the story over at Ones and Zeroes. Confirmation has not been made, but his source is very reliable. Check it out and be amazed.


A Brilliant Man.

posted by jayloose at 3:11 PM 0 comments   

Reunions Worth Reuniting.
Some big news just rolled into my lap. Irving Plaza has scored some killer reunion shows. First up, The New York Dolls will play on April 28th. Then my life becomes complete, because Gang of Four will play May 17th and 18th. I don't know the ticket situation, but these will certainly sell out quick.


Everyone bend over as to not show our collective boner.

posted by jayloose at 12:48 PM 3 comments   

Spring Has Definitely Sprung.
Now, I know what you’re thinking; it just snowed on Sunday. This doesn’t matter. We are making spring happen with our attitude. Can’t you tell that spirits are higher these days? Everyone knows that summer (aka titty season for some) is on its way, and the party is just getting started. When is the off season? The past few days have been a welcomed blur of little sleep and massive GT’s. Let me give you the run down in a somewhat abbreviated version.

Friday = Another Day At The Office.
I Love Mexican
No Sobriety Option
Someone Should Stop Me
The weekend was filled with many crazy moments, but Friday felt like a warm-up. It began with Cara stopping by 186 for a quick minute before we met Beach and Christie for fine dining at Festival. It’s been ages since I’ve stepped foot in the familiar establishment, and it hasn’t changed a bit. The margaritas are still tart and the chicken quesadilla maintains its divinity. We finished up quickly and hustled over to Mercury to catch The Head Set.

Sidenote: Today’s post will contain very little description about each set I took in this weekend. The fact remains it was a weekend built around partying for dead presidents in the company of great friends. All and all, mission accomplished.

The Head Set rocked something wonderful. Jordan manages to always surprise me with his stage presence. When did that cocktease get such a sexy swagger? Jordan, tell me where you purchased it; my swagger is in desperate need of an upgrade. At any rate, the night is such a distant cloud, but I can confirm that we saw Robbers On High Street. This was my first time taking in their set, and it was impressive. Yes, the Spoon reference is there, but it didn’t seem as apparent as the press tends to make it. At some point Beach and I snuck off to down my second or third Sparks of the evening. We plowed through it while shuffling our feet to the new Soft demo which is really fantastic, (despite my ambivalent feelings toward the live wank). Once we made it into the back room, Bishop Allen was already on stage. It’s easy for me to say that I love Bishop Allen, (and not just because they have the sexy). Their performances are always chocked full of great energy and earnest indie rock smiles. As The Upwelling took the stage, something inside thought it would be a good opportunity to flash my PDA skills. Sorry to all who had to witness. Wait, strike that, no apologies. After a bit of their set, my mind was shot and removal was the only option.

Saturday = You May Never Understand.
Kids Still Trip Acid
Kiddy Pools, Shotguns And Puke
So Many Culkins
You probably won’t understand so maybe you should skip this day. The nature of the beast comes in many shapes and sizes. You’ll see the pictures. You’ll cover your eyes in horror. You’ll wonder at the disgust. Hopefully you’ll laugh at how stupid my friends and I tend to act. Maybe you’ll never want to talk to me again, but every once and awhile something like this has to happen to validate my existence. The look on Sarah’s face before taking her carbomb made me realize this sort of thing isn’t for everyone. If you are interested, come to Jeff’s party on Saturday for the 2am multimedia presentation. I’ll give a speech before blowing your collective minds and private parts.

Let’s start by saying Saturday started way to early. The stirring in our living room forced me out of bed. I found some lit up kids sitting in the soft yet sweaty glow of the red lights, (aka the coke lights). As they freaked out to the ongoing invasion by Sgt. Pepper and his lonely soldiers, I decided bed was the only viable option. Around noon, Jeff and Liz gave me a call because they were brunch hunting in the neighborhood. They stopped into 186 to pick up Dan, Cara and I for the dining. We decided on AKA Café which hasn’t impressed many, but the hanger steak slider is more addictive than crack, (my apologies to mom for all the drug references today; please don’t take them to heart). Throughout the meal we tossed around the freshest idea for a Builder burn. When Builder goes away on business, we tend to fuck with his room. Thankfully he is a great sport, and knows it comes out of love. In the past he’s been subject to the gay porn crusade and the toilet paper maze.

Saturday’s burn involved an exhibition of sorts. It began with Liz and Jeff blowing up a kiddy pool that was given to Beach from Perry on his 24th birthday. Like most of Beach’s gifts, the pool was still at 186. With Kyle passed out firmly on the couch, we began the grand endeavor known only as Shotgun Challenge 2005. The challenge began with three contestants, but the field was quickly narrowed to two. It involved a gross display of 1999 like attitude and a fondness for all things disgusting. In the matter of an hour or two, Jeff and I managed to shotgun over a 12 pack a piece. The kicker was…. actually I’m not going to say anything else. Just be at Jeff’s party and bring your own barf bag. Let’s just say there was a lot of noise, and I’m lucky Cara still talks to me.

By 4:30pm the experiment was over. Jeff and I knifed the pool and took it to the street for disposal. Candles were lit. Feet were cleaned. Life pressed forward. We decided it was important to salvage the afternoon with some bar food from Nice Guys. Since they don’t deliver until 6pm, Beach did some serious egging to convince me to swing through the bar with him for a carbomb. The conversation went something like this:

Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: It’s 4:30pm and I’m already hammered.
Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: I can’t do it.
Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: Let’s Roll.

Twiggs and Stevo showed up as we pounded through some delicious fried food. By the time I swallowed my last bite, I was in the bedroom and down for the count. All I can say is: Warrior Mania II is definitely in the cards. As I woke from my slumber, the night whipped into action. The first task was to meet at the Bowery for a quick set by birthday boy and prize fighter Johnny Lives. Poor Dan had to suffer through a second set at the merch table for the kids in Brothers Past. We had a quick chat before I ran into Sky and George who seems to be making some headway with his band overseas. After a quick trip back to 186, I popped into Julep to grab Stevo and Jordan for the trip out to Brooklyn. Mike declined the offer to join the shittrain which ended up being his severe loss. The three of us caught up with an already rowdy Beach on the corner of Allen and Delancey. To make matters worse, they grabbed Sparks for the cab ride across the bridge. The foundation was laid for a great performance.

We met up with Mike, Rebecca and Diane (I think) in the corner deli by Bo and Liz’s apartment. We proceeded to buy a handful of 24oz PBRs which must have been sent directly from heaven. As we rolled into the party, we were greeted by the birthday boy. Things were a bit mellow, but we quickly changed the climate. There were tons of great kids there including Oveis (fucking jackass), Little Macchia, Virginia, Elliot, Gene!, Windskill, J.C., Christie, Mr. Smith, Meredith, Abe, a shit-toothed Action and other solid donkeys. The party became a bit rowdy after we sang a birthday tune. Some kid came up to me, wrapped his arms around me and began lifting me. This doesn’t sit right with a person who operates under a ‘No Touching’ guise. This prompted me to go into Culkin mode, (well, that and Beach’s incessant muttering in my ear regarding Culkining Gene). The same lifter guy came up to Rebecca and dropped to his knees, grabbed hers and started shaking them. I figured this was the last straw. He had to go down. I motioned to Jordan and knelt. Jordan got the unsuspecting gent with ease. The kid didn’t know what hit him.

Since kids were taking whatever they wanted from the fridge, Beach and I had to make a beer run. This came after he got on the microphone to heckle Oveis who spent his night on the couch being gayer than Richard Simmons in Miami, (not that there’s anything wrong with it). Then some MC came on to spit over Kotchy’s beats, and Mr. Surly Pants was bitching the whole way to the beer store. We bought the place out of 24oz cans while Beach tried to lure some unsuspecting kid with a Choking Victim patch on his hoodie back to the party. It was all kind of homoerotic. Maybe Surly Jones has a thing for punks. Anyway, we got back upstairs and registered more Culkins than the past few weeks combined. In fact, Action went down four times in a row at the hands of Beach and Stevo. It was quite massive. I also managed to kneel for a couple of Culkins performed on Kevin.

As 2am rolled around the fridge was desperately empty. Justin and I decided to take it upon ourselves to collect some beer money for the mission. With 19bones in hand, we hit the street, but all the delis were closed. It’s just another reason for me to hate on Brooklyn. We set out on a search for the Holy Grail, and eventually Carter’s eye caught a dimly lit bodega at the end of a block. We hustled down and bought a bunch of Colt 45 just because I wanted to be a dick. We got back to the party and were heroes. As it erupted into a MTV Beach House meets Soul Train style dance party, Beach and I targeted Carter for one last Culkin before heading back to Manhattan.

The night ended with an Odessa session that included Stevo, Action, Stevo, Belgium Waffles and Sausage. The place was packed and sitting next to us was some guy who had his ax in tow. A visibly drunken Stevo struck up a conversation with him and eventually got him to play, (despite his managers request for a guarantee). The dude broke out his guitar, plugged it into his battery powered amp and cruised through some Santana and Hendrix. He had the whole place rocking. It was a great time. Some faced guy got up to come watch him play and as he was taking a seat went straight to the ground. He later passed out, but ended up giving the dude an Andrew Jackson. We finished up, and I managed to close my eyes a bit after 7am.

Sunday = Bring On The Brits.
My Laundry Is Done
Free Red Bull And Vodka Rocks
I Love Transvestites
Sunday started out slow with some laundry, a spot of work and a bit of a hang with Ms. Christie. She was in the neighborhood so we decided to catch ourselves up on last week’s episode of the O.C. It was an interesting episode, but I won’t get into it because of the already long winded nature of this post. Mike and Xtina showed up for a brief, but necessary meeting. Around 8pm it was time to get into costume, (read: put on a tie) for the evening’s trek to the renowned debacle known simply as Motherfucker.

I arrived at the Roxy a bit early and while waiting for Cara, I ran into Omri (sp?) who knew about Loose through Christina. It’s always great when someone mentions the site. Hopefully we’ll have it to you soon. The wheels are in steady motion. After some mix up with the list, we managed to carve out a nice spot at the end of the bar where we proceeded to slam back the free Red Bull and Vodka. As the hour progressed, we were joined by Jersey Dan and Adam who came into town for the party. We stood there chatting it up with various passerby’s until it was time for the show.

The last time I saw Bloc Party, they played the Knitting Factory and I left the show wholly unimpressed. This mindset was wiped clean on Sunday as they blew me away. Maybe it was the 1500 drunk kids screaming out their lyrics. Maybe it was the top notch company. Maybe it was their songs being on fucking point. Either way, I’ve done a 180 and absolutely love this band. Though I’m not too familiar with the record, Banquet was a big winner and they finished the set with my favorite, Little Thoughts. The Tranny hostess came back out to help rally the crowd into frenzy for the encore. They popped out and played a great jam sending me away smiling. After a couple more drinks and some High School style running around, Cara and I decided to cut the chord.

Monday = Aren’t You Tired Of Reading.
Warm Maple Butter
Never Getting Out Of Bed
Say Hi To Your Mom
Ok, quick recap. Cara and I squeezed into Clinton Street for brunch before wasting the entire day doing nothing but listening to records. Jersey Dan stopped in and we grabbed a slice before heading to the Mercury to catch Cut the Wires who were actually quite good. I suspect you’ll see their name around more as kids begin to catch on. They have a quirky frontman who bounces around asking for a Culkin while the rest of the band guides him with music that we’d like to say was influenced by the Gang of Four, but really it sounds like ½ Rapture meets ½ Moving Units. Then Eric took the stage as a three piece and rocked out a great set. It’s always nice to see Say Hi To Your Mom; especially since Eric is such a nice guy on top of being a Grade A songsmith. My night ended with living room work session and the triumphant return of Builder.

Tuesday = Tequila Infused Swedish Fish.
Tequila Tuesday
The Shout Out Louds Are So Cute
We Drink Way To Much
Another quickie. The call was 6:30pm at Nice Guys. Builder and I met Jersey Dan and Beach. We were joined by the likes of Sarah, Gigs and Daylen for a couple of early evening carbombs and some more delicious bar food. Sean Bones and Andrew W. Gay, (sorry Ackerman, that just sounded funny to me in my current hung-over state) showed up just in time to say no to the first tequila shot presented by J.D. productions. We settled up and walked to the Bowery. Mr. Champion was running the show last night with the always present James. I ran around the club to say hello to everyone before heading downstairs to chat up Greg and Merida who kindly collaborated on hooking me up with a PBR. Then I sat with K at the coat check for a hot minute before bullshitting with Dan and Paul who were scooping the second door.

As I made my way to the back of the show room, the crew began to assemble. Besides all the Nice Guy people, we also had Rob, Sky, Cara, Matt G., Tumblehawk, Lucy, Mia, Jin, Half Nelson, Christen, Del and a few others floating around. The Shout Out Louds took the stage and played all my favorite songs. Since the room wasn’t packed yet, we cruised up to the front for a closer look. They rocked out something amazing. There is no question that this is currently my number one band. They are so sweet and so kick ass all at once. Their songs make me want to dance around like a hippie. It was great, and by the looks of the crew most felt the same. Once they finished up, I pulled a Mandel and grabbed the set list from the foot of the stage. We cruised downstairs for the hundredth Tequila shot of the evening before returning for a surprisingly fantastic set by The Futureheads, (go see them at Webster in June). As their set ended my need for sleep overcame all other desires and I passed out with my jeans on.

If you read this post in its entirety, your next cheeseburger is on me.

posted by jayloose at 12:10 PM 10 comments   

posted by jayloose at 9:21 AM 2 comments   

Look At Me, I’m Not You.
On my walk home from The Bowery last night, I was wondering where all the disdain for the French Kicks came from. Last night people would come up to the merch table to ask me if I really liked them and my typical response would be, “I don’t dislike them.” They are one of the bands that helped suck me into the New York music scene back when they played shows at Brownies with bands like The Walkmen, Interpol and Radio 4. Why shouldn’t I like them? They make inoffensive pop songs that have very catchy melodies. Sometimes it feels like if it isn’t dance-punk and high school kids love it, then New York City must turn their backs on it. Well, the jokes on us. They soldout Bowery last night, and they sounded great, (at least from downstairs).

My post work hangout was interrupted by the presence of roommate #1. The apartment had been empty for nearly a week, but yesterday I came home to Kyle snoring on the couch. We didn’t catch up. We didn’t hang out. He slept. I emailed. He snored. I ate. These days, 186 has been a lonely place, but I was just getting used to it. Around 7:30pm I set off to The Bowery to begin my shift. The French Kicks were nice enough to set most of their display up for me, and I settled in for a long night unfolding and folding t-shirts. Grizzley Bear had their merch set up right next to the Kicks, and a nice girl by the name of Gigi kept me company for most of the evening. There were some solid appearances by Christie, Julia, Megan, Lucy, Tumblehawk and Christine (once her shift was over). They chatted me up between sales.

Eventually the French Kicks took the stage and rocked out what sounded like a great set from the depths of the basement. Towards the end of their set, I heard the opening guitar riff to New Order’s Regrets and got Gigi to cover as I darted upstairs to check out the song. They did a spot on cover of one of my top New Order songs. As I hopped about, Sarah came up the steps to say hello and sing along. It was a great choice by the band. The after show rush was a bit hectic, but as it slowed down the Grizzly Bear kids and I dicked about as we closed up shop. They are really nice guys and I can’t wait to see them after they return from their tour. Dana was nice enough pop into the club after taking in the Kasabian set. She kept me company while I waited to settle up. Eventually Matt came over and we closed down the table. They were kind enough to toss me a vinyl copy of their Young Lawyers Ep which, in my humble pie opinion is their best recording.

On my way home I decided to stop into Atomique to see how the night was going. Upon walking into the smoke filled basement, I found Julia and Megan in a booth with some new found British boys. I stashed my gear and ran into Jin on my way to the bar. We grabbed a drink and met her friend Chris who said, “I have a brother named Jay” to which I answered, “I have a sister named Chris.” Only problem was Chris was a dude, but we had a laugh. Cara was surprisingly still at the party so we talked for a quick minute before I ducked back to the booth to see how Audrey and Dennis were holding up. Audrey told me the party was a mad house early in the evening which means her party is getting the head of steam it deserves. Back by the bar I caught up with Christen who told Cara and me about the orgasmic reaction she had to Kasabian. A drink or so later, Cara and I decided it was time to talk to our old friend Jose who I now realize was the tequila shot that sent me reeling on Tuesday. We finished up and bailed out on the rest of the evening. I returned home only to forget that The O.C. had been taped for me. Please don’t spill the beans.

The Locals We Love.
Tonight The Mercury Lounge has presented us with an inexpensive way to see a heap of local talent for only $10 of that newly cashed paycheck. The show kicks off early with a band I’ve never heard of, but bet your money on me being their by 8:30pm to see The Head Set. Last time I saw the band it was after a tough Jets loss, but they somehow managed to put me in good spirits. They are followed Robbers On High Street who are the new it band for fans of Spoon style twang. At 10:30 one of my favorite pop acts, Bishop Allen, will rock the club. Their debut full-length Charm School has been in heavy rotation for over a year now. Oh, and their bass player might be the cutest girl in indie rock. Bringing up the rear are the biscuit loving boys of The Upwelling who really impressed me the night of the blizzard. With tonight’s fairly more favorable weather, you should make a point to hole up at The Mercury and join us in supporting some top notch local artists.

posted by jayloose at 1:09 PM 0 comments   

Get Them While They're Hot!
On May 14th the Bowery Ballroom will face an invasion by British Sea Power. Tickets went on sale a few minutes ago, and if you were at last February's show, you already know this is a must see.

posted by jayloose at 1:01 PM 0 comments   

When Feelings Stopped And Writing Began.
My boy Big predicted this thing exactly; more money more problems. Well, Mr. Smalls, I can imagine that producing hit rap records made for a better living than slinging crack in the neighborhood. It would produce the same style of problem, but at least you could stop selling rock. Think about it. The problem with having money is that someone always wants it. The problem with having crack is someone always needs it. The line between want and necessity begins to blur. Have you ever seen someone smoke crack? As they put their lips to the tiny pipe, their eyes light up like a Republican in a strip club. The same thing goes for money. If you’re in a casino and someone hits, they get pumped like a junkie who just scored. In both cases, everyone around these victors wait in nervous anticipation for their turn. Money and crack were both introduced by our government with the hopes of controlling the populace. One was directed at establishing while the other sought elimination. Each agent became the cause and solution for many of society’s problems. It’s a simple comparison, but one that should be noted.

Hmmm… I don’t know what the point of that exercise was, but it just came out because Notorious B.I.G.’s Juicy was the first song played in my office today. Well, that, and the fact that last night I went out in pursuit of money and wound up getting hooch. It’s a vicious cycle that began with a shift at Webster Hall for the Beatles cover band, The Fab Faux. They pulled off a spot on performance of Abby Road before kicking into the hits during their second set. Gigs and I (wo)manned the front door for the first half of the night before Noah joined us for a while. The crowd was sweet except for one guy who got mad and told me to fuck off while he tore off his bracelet and threw it in my face. That type of actions really makes me laugh. Anyway, it was an older, drunker crowd, and they had a rowdy good time.

By 11pm I made my way back down to the neighborhood. My hope was to catch up on some sleep, but instead Dana and I decided to get a couple drinks. I swung by her house, and we saddled up at 151 where Danny was pouring the drinks while Mr. Perez played a solid mix of old punk and hardcore tunes. We shot the shit with Molly for awhile, and the two girls tried to bully me into buying a plane ticket for SXSW. They actually had me considering the idea of getting a credit card, but more debt isn’t desired. We took a seat and watched as the Diamond Nights spillover began to mildly crowd the bar. Laura Little Man cruised in with Steve and filled us in on what we’d missed. After a glass of whiskey, we called it a night and I went home to get cozy with Family Guy.

Words From The Street, (aka Cunts On MTV).
*** Tonight you might be going to the L-D Section I show at Mercury or The French Kicks at Bowery or The Kasabian show at Irving. Either way, you should cruise by Atomique afterwards for the possibility of free beer and New Order tunes. Go to Melody Nelson for RSVP instructions. Check out the flyer below for details:



*** Take a second to listen to Black Lipstick’s new single, Bob Fosse. They have been one of my favorite bands to come out of Texas in awhile. I remember seeing Black Lipstick at Hanks Saloon with The Fiery Furnaces opening way back in the day. There were 20 people at the show, and Little Chris got so drunk that he tried to start a fight right before puking all over a Rite Aide. Luckily I diffused the fight and Erin helped me get him home.

*** I wonder if Pete’s P.O. will join him at the awards show. He is up for some of the dumbest awards ever invented. If he’s the sexist man of the year, call me Brad Pitt.

*** The House says there will be less titty on television. The FCC is beefing up their indecency fines for the boob tube. Thank god the kids of today are so internet savvy.

*** I don’t like the band, but I like the style. Locust boycott all the Clear Channel venues on the upcoming Ipecac tour. It’s a double edged sword because they will also alienate their fan base in those markets, (if one exists).

*** The Cocteau Twins didn’t spend much time broken up. This was expected.

*** Want to know what Canadian’s loved about 2004? Yeah, me neither. If you are bored, check out what our neighbors to the north deemed the best of the best.

*** So go already. George Michael chooses to fade away rather than continue his burn out.

Ok, sorry this post was so boring.

posted by jayloose at 11:31 AM 4 comments   

John Cougar Fuck My Face.
Vulgarity for no valid reason is an easy way to get me through the day. A quick question: Does anyone have acid reflux? The back of my throat has been burning worse than herpes for the past couple days, and yet I choose to ignore it. Yes, I am a dumber than Boner from Growing Pains. All these stupid ailments plague me and yet I continue to avoid using my health coverage. Maybe inhaling 10 drinks and a pulled pork sandwich wasn’t the best idea, but I’ve had worse. Like the time I was Rambo for Halloween.

Now Playing: Tequila Tuesday.
Finding fault in your life is a difficult task when you are so kick ass. Yeah, I’m boasting, but only because my night was an all around good time. For the past couple evenings my life has been like Richard Grieco circa 1989 minus all the cocaine. Last night began when Flight of the Navigator and I met up and headed to Sin-e. You wouldn’t know it from walking with him, but he does work in the Lower East Side. Between Norfolk and Attorney, he took the corner at ever street looking for the rock club, (this continued after I told him Sin-e is on Attorney). This behavior could only mean one thing; we were in for a mini-shitshow.

Before a PBR could find my hand, we were greeted by the Hawk who was trying to get his kicks in before heading south to legally score some pain killers. A thank you goes out to Jeff for passing me the PS recordings a few moments before they were called to the stage. As the five-piece took the stage, I didn’t know what was in store for my ears because I’d heard they took the music in a different direction since the recording of the small mini-disc Patrick passed me ages ago. With the luxury of no expectations, I was sucked in by the lush sounds PS had to offer. From the start, Patrick’s voice jumps out at you. Some folks I spoke to thought it could use a tweak or two, but for me, it was right on. It’s a unique pitch with splashes of an Irish accent hidden at the end of his versus. The warm sound coming from the cellist added a great layer to the duel guitars. The guitar parts were so interesting. There were bridges were the guys would play the same melodies on different ends of the neck. It had a minute effect on the songs, but it did get me excited.

Dave cruised in during the set and we began to talk SXSW. This is a quick open call to anyone who’d like me to cover the festival for their magazine, web site or just personally. Buy me a plane ticket and I’ll hook you up like Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries. Anyway, a few songs into the show, Clint had an unfortunate bass string break, but they fought right through it and jumped into a tune that had Jeff playing some electronic beats from behind the kit. PS is difficult to nail down so I can’t throw around the typical name drops. All I can say is their music is carefully composed in a manner that never has anyone overplaying. Each member perfectly compliments their broadly cast, atmospheric rock sound.

A Short, But Necessary Interlude.
Hawkins, Beach and I quickly bolted from Sin-e in search of a quick bite before heading to the second show. We decided Juanita’s would suit our needs. We scored a decent booth towards the back and threw back their unique Mexican mashup cuisine. My only problem was the damn waitress. She was celebrating surly season which plain pisses me off. I’m giving her the benefit of the bad day doubt, but seriously if I would have known the waitress was going to treat me like we were at Schillers then I wouldn’t have bothered. Anyway, their pulled pork sandwiches are better than finding money in a pair of neglected jeans, and the price (besides the margaritas) is hipster friendly.

The third stop on our tour was Rothko which has a super chill door guy named Mike who I later learned plays guitar in The Izzys. As we walked into the club, Dennis was making some rounds. It’s nearly impossible to not support this guy if you are acquainted. He rarely rocks anything but great spirits and is one person I’m always happy to see. Dennis is like Gem; he’s truly outrageous. Anyway, I did a quick catch up session with Abe before Laura Burhenn took the stage. Her set drove me to taking tequila shots. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to admit that Fiona rip offs are my thing. It will never happy. You’d sooner find me dead in a bathtub of piss and whiskey, (which almost happened once). She even began one of her songs with some sort of Fuck Bush statement that couldn’t even save the grace. Some people like her style of songwriting. I assure you, Jay is not one of them.

As we pounded into Tequila Tuesday, Beach brought it to my attention that this would be the first time seeing Saints + Lovers without being completely shitcanned. With this looming over my conscious, I quickly took another shot that nearly destroyed me. I don’t know what it was, but it grabbed at my throat, twisted, kicked and burned. It was like my last girlfriend, (what girlfriend?). While I gathered my wits, we settled into a great set by the local three-piece. Once again I’m at a loss for comparison. Everyone claims they sound like Jeff Buckley, but since my life has been without him up to this point, I couldn’t confirm such a statement. What I can say is Dennis’ songs have come a long way since his days in The Realistics. The interplay of the guitars build and build until the gap is breached by a drum fill and Dennis’ bittersweet voice jumps into a chorus. The guitars have distinctly different sounds characterized by juxtaposing tones. His falsetto doesn’t get showcased with this new band because they aren’t the party band of the past. This music is seriously morose, but they couple this with an overall inventive feel that creates a sort of cathartic experience for the listeners. Keep an ear to these guys. As they tighten the screws, Saints + Lovers could make a big splash in an even bigger pool. Thanks to Audrey for hooking up the great night.

Bring In The Closer.
After the set we sat around chatting for a bit, and I was psyched Nora let me in on her new L.E.S. dining secret. Sarah also teased me with the fact that she got to hear three of the new Weezer tracks at work yesterday. Why can’t labels bring records into the Law School for advanced listening? A bit after 11pm Beach and I hit the streets with the intention of stopping by 2A for a drink. Plans changed when Clint yelled out to us from across Rivington. PS was hanging out at 151 so we decided to further our inebriation at the solid establishment. A tequila shot or two later, and we were back on the street. We closed out the night sipping beers and pounding a shot at 2A while playing catch up with some of the familiar faces. My night ended with some roasted red pepper and goat cheese potato chips which could be considered the new cream dream. It was an all around stellar Tuesday evening warm-up for the guaranteed fuckfest that will when The Shout Out Louds play 10 back-to-back sets at the Bowery next week. A kid can dream can’t he?

Words From The Street, (aka Whore Me).
*** Matt G-Funk just called to let me know there is a new Chipotle opening at 8th and Green Streets. Thank God; walking over to Saint Marks was such a pain in the ass. Bring on the free burritos.

*** Apartment Hunters: Check out Daylen's bitching East Village apartment. She has two rooms for rent and can be reached here via email (daylen@cloud9.net) for more information.

*** Trail of Dead hit the road to properly support their new record Worlds Apart. Get your Irving Plaza tickets while you still can. Junkmedia has a decent interview with the Texas boys.

*** If New Order thought they were burnt out, wait till the Brits get done with their Coachella set. And by the way, what the fuck is up with NME and all these bullshit ads?

*** Any chance I could get Jeremy Pivan to trade lives with me? If not, I’ll settle for Owen Wilson.

*** The good people at Cornerstone are really pushing things these days. Now they have the new Fisherspooner video for us to enjoy. I never got into this jazz when it first hit, but from the sounds of this new single, it could be danceable.

*** Speaking of videos, The Stills have a new one out for Love and Death that features the lovely Emily from Metric and Broken Social Scene. I hope they put out a killer sophomore record. This video is great.

*** I don’t see this happening, but a new version of whoring is now available on Ebay.

*** Captain Tater Tot, I have a new number for your late night phone messages. Call this dickbrain. Question social barriers? You can start with my taint.

*** And finally, I’m not going to say it. No, you say it. Ok, Ok, I’ll say it. Madonna sucks. This only serves as further proof. How many bandwagons can one aging pop icon hop on?

posted by jayloose at 3:08 PM 4 comments   

Two Turntables And A Microphone.
Do what you can to bail from your office on time and get down to the L.E.S. because my hood is where it’s at. Tonight’s menu begins with an appetizer featuring local friends PS who are playing a FREE show. No that wasn't a mistake. This is a showcase and they need good people like you to help fill it out. Check out these details and don’t fuck about. Get to the club on time.

PS
Tuesday, February 15
@ Sin-e (Attorney btwn Houston & Stanton)
FREE (7pm)
Check out their tracks: Pylons and Spelling

Following the show I’m going in search of dinner. Who’s coming with me? Once my belly is full of something that isn’t vodka or tequila, I’ll be hitting up the Saints + Lovers set at tonight’s installment of Vicious. Check out what Ms. Melody Nelson has in store:

Vicious @ Rothko (Suffolk btwn Rivington & Delancey)
Featuring: 11pm - Orange Park
10pm - Saints + Lovers
9pm - Laura Burhenn (with full band!)
8pm - Ezra Reich (EP release party!)
With Guest DJs: Melody Nelson & DJ Fludd!
(Only 8 Bones!)

On a more serious note; it has been reattached and yes, I dumped her, (Thanks Del).

posted by jayloose at 3:08 PM 0 comments   

I Love You Cause I Have To.
With Builder on the other side of the country and Kyle rarely at home, 186 is like a barren wasteland fit for me to trash. On yesterday’s return trip, God decided to heap insult on my Valentine less injury by pissing on me the entire way home. Luckily my mailbox had some love waiting for me. Mom sent me a sweet card, as she always does, and Whitney sent me a package. This care package contained a four disc mix titled Useful Timber Jargon Vol. 1-4 (which is simply amazing), a bitching drawing of a unicorn and a rainbow done in markers and a VHS copy of The Experts starring John Travolta. Check out this summary to realize how awesome Whit is for finding this:

Near the eastern edge of the USSR is a village populated by Russians who speak and act American, where KGB trainees go to practice. The town is mired in the 50's, and the new KGB hotshot fears his agents will fail to learn real US culture. He goes to New York and hires two young hipsters to come to "Nebraska" to open a nightclub. He drugs them en route to Russia, and they think they've awaken in the Midwest. There they turn a tiki lounge into a hip club, teach townies to dance, and introduce pop culture. Both flip for local chicks. Things get dangerous when the townsfolk taste freedom, a KGB faction tries to kill our heroes, but will the guys figure out they're not in Nebraska?

Point is: when you have family and friends like this, being a loner on Valentine’s Day isn’t a difficult task. Thanks guys! I spent the few free hours of my day working on some Loose Record issues and helping my little sister put together her resume. It was a productive little window in time. By 8pm it was time to get to the Mercury to catch an early set by Blue Sparks. As I rolled into the club, Greg was checking Ghory’s I.D. so we stepped in together. After a quick couple hellos, we were in the backroom hanging out with Denise who was working the backroom bar station. Beach joined us as Blue Sparks took the stage.

I Predict A Culkin.
Last night was the first time I had seen Blue Sparks, and my ears liked what they heard. Mike Dos Equis (formerly of The Realistics) has taken over on bass in the new lineup that also includes the addition of Ken Larkin on drums. Though their lack of playing live shows together showed just a bit, I was thoroughly impressed by their sound. First of all the vocals are right up my ally. There is some nice back and forth harmonizing between Phil and Kerry who both wield guitars. Those two are like a double helix in that they are completely intertwined throughout the course of the set. They play off each other in an oddly romantic fashion, (think of your aunt and uncle at a family reunion). Phil’s vocals are tough to pin down, but my take is he must be a big fan of Ian Curtis and Lou Reed. As Ghory and I discussed, they have some interesting rhythms set behind some herky-jerky rock riffs. Mike rocks in his usual spastic fashion; bouncing around the stage like a possessed wielder of the axe. Check these kids out when they play a Tsunami Benefit at Crash Mansion on March 2nd with The Fever, The Natural History and Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah.

Speaking of Clap Your Hands and Say Culkin, they were second on last night’s bill. This band has been climbing the radar since their Pianos Residency which is the first time I saw them. They definitely made a better impression on me at the Mercury. Their sound was a lot crisper. It had the punchy attitude that got lost in the mix at Pianos. Their style is a solid mix of minimal beats, Violent Femmes sounding vocals, a little CAN droning and an all around Talking Heads boogie. My one critique would be for the lead singer to put down the harmonica and loose some of the smugness. He seems so uninspired by what he’s doing that it made me upset. Take a lead from your multi-instrumentalist who bounces around while looking like he actually likes what he’s playing. CYHASY had one song that sounded like Joy Division’s Atmosphere which basically rounds out all the necessary influences needed for me to like a band. They also have this track which is probably called Satan which is will be prime for remixing so DJ’s get your tables ready. Check them out at the Tsunami Benefit listed above, and stare in amazement at how much the lead singer looks like Ghory.

During changeover I caught up with kids like DJ Del, Mike, Audrey, Daylen, Sarah, Gigs and Bridgette before settling into the back corner for a healthy dousing of Brit fever. As the Kaiser Chiefs hustled past us on their way to the stage, The Beatles called them to arms from the house speakers, (Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey, Thanks Del). As they took the stage, the lead singer introduced the band and they ripped into an energetic set of rock. They look like a bunch of misfit rude boys looking to cause trouble in their dapper suits and ties. The bass player did have a ridiculous black and red striped suit on which made him look more Zoot than rock, but he pulled it off with his best Silent Bob / Tumblehawk impression. The music was loud and raunchy, but it was held together by some solid work on the keys. The lead singer bounced around like a monkey and even worked in some cowbell. Despite his Diego Elefant like arm movements, I was digging his vibe. They were called back for an big encore that made me want save the queen, but I did no such thing. The Kaiser Chiefs will surely dominate overseas, but I don’t know if the rest of America will bite on this next big thing. They do have songs that remind me of The Fall and if that isn’t enough to get you out to their show on March 25th at Bowery with Morningwood, then you my friend, have no soul, (tickets for that show go on sale Wednesday). Check out Brooklyn Vegan for some pictures of the Kaiser Chiefs.

posted by jayloose at 12:17 PM 0 comments