Get to Ticketweb as fast as you can because Wolf Parade tickets for their two shows at Webster Hall will be onsale any second now - I shit you not! The shows are on April 9th & 10th.

This admission might be a waste of time simply because you've already come to the conclusion that I am definitely an idiot. If you weren't 100% certain before today, then get ready for some closure. I don't like dealing with music in the electronic age. It annoys the hell out of me when someone IM's or emails me a record. I don't know what unzipping a file means. I couldn't tell you the difference between a stream and an mp3. It's just not my style. Granted, in a lot of cases, it must be done especially if it's a record that hasn't hit the physical world of regular publicity distribution outlets. In this case I'll call Josh or even Noah and hopefully they can help me figure out how the hell to hear the advance copy of the new hot shit. More often than not I'm a late bloomer, but sometimes the extra edge happens to fall in my lap and on Sunday, that edge was Shannon's computer.

Since I've known Larry Fitzy, she has pimped her roots like Jay-Z pimps Marcy. Along with this love for the Windy City comes a requisite push for her friend Ed's label Brilliante Records. Yes, my early thoughts were clouded with skepticism as most friends try to hype their friend's work, but more often than not they end up directing me to the corner of Front Street and Perpetration Avenue. On Sunday, Larry sat me down and cluttered my iPod with a few unknowns and a band I've only heard about through Bitchfork. Oh, she also put on some other tracks, which lead me to a whole other question that will be addressed later. So onto the music…

First on the chopblock is The M's whose name you would recognize from their Pitchfork praise during the promo push for their festival last summer. The M's seem to reference all the right 60's and late 70's rock bands that we've come to know as stapples, but upon first listen I had a different reaction. Their sound recalls the lo-fi rock goodness of Guided by Voices, if Robert Pollard and his crew of misfits swapped their bottles of Bud and Jack Daniels for some Red Stripe and Vodka Tonics. All this means is they are a bit more sophisticated than GBV and incorporate more instrumentation into their songs, but they are definitely grounded by the raw rock n' roll that we've come to enjoy. Yes, they intermingle characteristics of Nugget style rock into their sound, but it's easy to hear why they call the Midwest home. Their full-length debut came courtesy of Polyvinyl (home to Of Montreal - a band The M's should support on the road), but Brilliante has released their first three EPs in one nifty little package. If you don't know where you come from, then you don't know where you're going.

Second band in question is Venue who tackle a sound very different from The M's and immediately force you to recognize the label as a home for a diverse group of artists. The initial reaction to the Venue tracks passed my way is that these kids are the understudies of The Faint. It makes me wonder what's in the water coming off the Lake. Chicago is certainly producing a wide array of talented artists who don't necessarily fit into one big geographic puzzle, but they are all intertwined in some fashion - Brilliante being the binding glue. Think of dark synth rock that forces a foot tap, but would have you avoiding a dark alley in fear of the unknown. The result is something alarmingly sexy and futuristic, but it finds normalcy in the beats that you'd find in any club circa 1990. They are creating the rhythms that suck me in and refuse to let go - and I like it.

My final look is at New Sense which (surprise) is a Chicago based group that sounds as if they are big fans of the Manchester scene when The Happy Mondays and New Order blew it off the map, (who the hell is Moz anyway). Rising from the ashes of Camden and sharing members with Promise Ring and Decibully, this band isn't new to the beat. Brilliante's website goes onto explain the origin of New Sense as an exploration in production. Apparently most of their first recording were written as rock songs, but once Camden fell apart they hit the studio and with the help of Kristian Riley, William Seidel and Ryan Weber were able to take their music in a new direction. At times the tracks have a distinct dance feel even going as far to reference an artist like Jamiroquai or Phoenix. On the EP Flowers Before Hours it becomes clear that New Sense aren't constrained by this electronic-pop sound that characterized their debut, self-titled EP. On the second EP they return to some of the rock that might have emerged on the first record if a full band would have played on the EP. Check them out if you are interested in a band that takes the Costello style from The Changes and blends it with an English dance rock sound found stateside in NYC's Soft.

So that's my look at Chicago's Brilliante Records. You should dive right in and give them a gander. There are all sorts of samples of these three bands on the web site along with the other bands on their roster that I've yet to make an acquaintance.

Ok, so if you are still reading, you are a trooper. The other question that is weighing oh-so-heavily on my mind is: which Arrested Development song is better - Tennessee or Mr. Wendel? Also, the two Joggers' records are quite different. Though they are rooted in the same sound, is there a dangerous progression pattern that is leading them into the freak-folk genre? I dig on bands like Devendra (when he isn't being a crystal hugging hippie) and Akron/Family (when they decide to bring the rock), but I'm a bit nervous The Joggers could one day lose the accessibility that made the first two records so amazing.

And if anyone is near Washington Square Park South today, give me a call so I can come meet you. Someone needs to punch me where my balls should be for staying in and working last night as opposed to seeing the Deerhoof show at Bowery.

In the past few days I've consumed 7.5 hours of live Broken Social Scene. If you were one of the folks at the three-day Webster Hall love-in,then you know this band stand far beyond the rest of the indie rock pack. Sure, they can be a bit of a hippy jam at some points, but there is no denying the musicianship and overall stage presence that belongs to those 68 or so Canadians who stepped foot on stage. They are great entertainers and were a complete pleasure to work with. Hopefully they decide to hit Webster Hall next time the traveling circus comes through town.

Thursday was the first of three shows, and really the most hectic. Thankfully we got through it and managed to keep everyone happy. I didn't get to watch most of that show because of the craziness, but near the end, Christie joined me upstairs to watch the final few songs before we did the post show hang. Around midnight we headed over to Black and White for a quick drink before we walked down to Magician to have a drink with Mia, Denise, Michelle, Bucket, John and the birthday girl Christine. The night ended with some unnecessary margarita's at San Loco before the all too familiar couch pass out.

Friday was rough. I felt terrible in the morning so I made the call and stayed in bed. Eventually Christie and I met at Clinton St to grab some awesome lunch. The Bakery is so much better on the weekdays when you don't have to wait an hour to be seated. We even took the counter spot which totally rules. We stopped back over to my place to do some work and listen to records. Before long it was time for me to be at the club. This session of Broken Social went a lot smoother and everyone was happy especially the band who blew threw four bottles of Patron.

After the show, Shannon joined us and we had a couple drinks with the folks from the band before we cabbed down to Mercury Lounge. We didn't expect to see a line halfway down the block for the Sam Champion show. Granted Dr. Dog was the headliner, but the club was absolutely packed for the Champ's set. We finally managed to maneuver our way into the back corner as the band called up the birthday girl - Shaps - for an all out tambourine jam. Now it is quite difficult to recall all the incidents of this evening (Saturday was more of the same), but let's just say they played a great set (but it felt like an abridged version). Later that evening, I had to carry a puking girl up to her fourth floor apartment before returning to the Mercury and drinking an obscene amount of tequila. My apologies to all who came in contact with me.

Saturday was more of the same, but in the early going, I grabbed lunch with Noah and proceeded to hang out with Rory at the Mercury for quite some time. It's always fun to sit over there and shoot the shit with whoever is on call. Around 5pm it was back to Webster for the final night of Broken Social. Big props go out to the kids like Brendan and the lovely Amanda who made these shows so rad. This time around I didn't stay late as The Big Sleep were supposed to hit at 11pm, but this time the club wasn't on time.

The room was cluttered with kids like The Late Great Kyle Lawrence, Christie, Lucy, Tumblehawk, Rory, Christen, Beach, Jerry, Ang and this girl Allyson who is the 3rd biggest Big Sleep fan ever. The set was definitely top notch, but the overall volume could have been up a few notches. After a few songs I said fuck it and slid my way up to the front next to a very crazy Billy who eventually found himself onstage doing some whiteboy booty dance. The club erupted into another late night hang. I didn't pay much attention to Field Music, but they seemed like nice enough guys from our brief encounters.

Later that evening Beach and Gabe (drummer of tBS) gave me Culkin heard round the world. Seriously, I think the Mercury Lounge shifted 2-inches north when I hit the ground. Somewhere around 2:30am a large group of kids crammed into The Big Sleep's automobiles and made our way out to Larry Lawrence to wish Leah a happy birthday. We proceeded to act like severe jackasses while pounding through tequila. Beach and I definitely did a whole lot of Price is Righting before I found a passed out dude and fucked with him for a good while. Later that evening I pulled a magical Belin that left people mystified. I get better and better at those as the days go by.

Sunday was a bit of a wash. I ran up to the record store to say goodbye to Del who was in for Shaps birthday before heading back home to sober up just long enough to start drinking for the Chinese New Year. To celebrate, Shannon had an Asian themed dinner party that featured Sarah on dumplings, Nicolas on soup, Shannon on noodles and Dan and me on our asses. We got buzzed playing Asshole and listening to records. After a long session of cat time, Sarah and I split a cab downtown and I tried desperately to fall asleep.

Now I'd like to take a quick second to thank everyone who put up with me this weekend. The rare form was out of control and I managed to get through all of it without even mentioning that Mean Gene, Perry and Christine were in town for the weekend. Good looks!

PS - Work is almost back to normal so expect better blogging in the near future.

At least these two clips made me smile this morning. Yesterday was spent in a series of different meetings until I finally got home around 9pm and managed to do more work. Tonight Webster gets back into full swing. I'll be there; will you? A weekend forcast for NYC is still to come, but in the mean time check out this week's edition of The Weekender at WOXY.

Big birthday wishes go out to Christine who strides into her mid-twenties today at Magician Bar. It's a celebration bitches.

Also, Kyle just called me and I told him to make it quick. This is what he said, "Dan and I just got taped for the Oprah show with Rachel Ray." Your guess is as good as mine.

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

Strongest Man In The World, Menomena
I'm Waiting for the Man, Velvet Underground
Story of Love, The Saints
Divide And Conquer, Husker Du
Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey, Little Richard
City Middle, The National
Song of the Paper Dolls, The Recoys
Dance Lessons, Superchunk
Monkey Man, Toots & The Maytals
Bortglomd, Dungen

Holy Year Of The Culkin... Ok, maybe I mean year of the Monkey. If you are one of the kids who spends their day dicking around on a computer than you know two things: 1. The Editors played NYC this past weekend; 2. The Arctic Monkeys debut album is one of the fastest selling debuts to ever crowd England's record shops. Was this completely expected? I read reports that Domino thought 60k was a solid estimate, but for them to hit the ground running with close to 120,000 units sold (or is it shipped?) is mind boggling. Though the album name - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not - might sound like a lyric from the last Eminem record, we can assure you that this freshman release has all the delish hooks you've come to love through the interweb campaign. Here's to hoping they stay afloat. Don't expect them to break this big in the United States, but with this much hype a Gold Record on our shores sounds well within their grasp.

Quick Glance At The Mailbox ::

Upon reading the one sheet from the New York based quartet, Overnight, I was instantly reminded of my days spent helping The Bahamas. The correlation was made when I read this: "...immediate indie pop songs that bridge the gap between the angular rhythms of Television and Talking Heads to the keyboard inflected, driving dance rock of The Cars and late Clash." If anything, they certain pull the coolest influences out of the late 70's, early 80's grab-bag; fully understanding the importance of name checking the best of the best. Their EP, Beat The Drum Til They Follow comes out in late March and after a quick listen there is some definite potential here. They seem to pull the best elements of modern indie rock out of the fridge and throw them into a blender. Though this first effort might sound a little chunky, if these young guys stay with it they could be smooth enough to score some attention, (don't you fucking hate food analogies). They don't stick to any of the prescribed Strokes, Interpol or Franz style, but they definitely exude that kind of accessibility. Check them out at the Shake Your Halo party on February 1st at Fat Baby. The party is brought us by my main man Coolfer and Daily Refill. It features Bravo Silva and Nepo downstairs and some free DJ action upstairs.

I Just Got Fucked ::

Seriously, mid-post; I just got pulled into my bosses office and got bent over. Someone fucking save me. I don't know how, but my life just got 100% worse. Fuck everyone, and don't expect much from this blog for the next couple weeks. Being an efficient employee has only gotten me in more trouble as the days go by. Fuck this - time to listen to some Ikara Colt. Anyone up for guest blogging? C'mon now...

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

Dead Flowers, The Rolling Stones
A Better Son/Daughter, Rilo Kiley
Don't Come Around Here No More, Tom Petty
How Near How Far, ...Trail Of Dead
Wraith Pinned To The Mist And Other Games, Of Montreal
It Ain't Easy, David Bowie
Respiration, Black Star
Changes Are No Good, The Stills
Joe Lies (When He Cries), Bouncing Souls
Stereo, Pavement
Minding One's Business, The Evens

Yesterday we were treated by a bombardment of opinions in reference to The Editors' New York debut this past weekend. Here is a not-so quick rundown of those who covered the shows this weekend:

** Chris' Music Snobbery
** Yeti Don't Dance
** Totes Probs Maybs
** Brooklyn Vegan
** Stereogum
** Village Indian
** Gothamist aka Central Village
** I Rock I Roll
** Melody Nelson
** Modern Age
** Sound Bites
** The Underrated Blog
** This Twilight Garden
** Eskay Everyday
** The Rotation Room
** The Fader Blog

Since I have nothing else to talk about... Get your fill on this band and then let's put this one to rest. They will be back. They will be awesome. They will continue to sound like bands we've heard before, but no one in their right mind would dare to care.

On the bittersweet chocolate tip I would like to wish the lovely Lindsay good luck as she packs her bags and says farewell to the 718. You will be missed my dear. Kick some ass in Chitown and stay beautiful.

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend, The Ramones
You Think You're A Man, The Vaselines
Death Trip, Iggy & The Stooges
Leif Erikson, Interpol
Flames Go Higher, Eagles of Death Metal
Pale New Dawn, Jets To Brazil
I'm So Free, Lou Reed
Blues For Mama, Nina Simone
Ziggurat Traffic, The Joggers
Jinx Removing, Jawbreaker
Trouble Trouble, The Ponys

At some point early last year, I managed to trip into a Big Sleep set at the Mercury before hustling down to the Knit to catch Bloc Party. Both sets were great, but the new hot shit from across the pond couldn't stand up to what I witnessed from three unassuming, front lit figures at the Merc. Friday had a similar feel to it, but this time it was expected.

Around 8:30pm I busted out of the house to meet Kyle on the corner and we headed over to Pianos. As we entered the front room, the place stunk of cheap cologne and expensive hair spray. Pianos weekend clientele has always left something to be desired, but they buy drinks and keep the cash flow constant so kids like Jasper can keep booking sweet indie bands. We ran into Christen, Chris and Adam who were all there to get their fill, (and trust me, we all got stuffed like hardcore pornstar DP). Now I'd like to write something profound in regards to how utterly mind-blowing The Big Sleep's set was, but just scroll down and take a gander of what Kyle tossed in the Loose Mailbox on Saturday. This should explain everything. Despite my increased anxiety about the ear crushing volume of the room, they completely took me by surprise and continued to climb on the Belin Charts. They all did their part, but on Friday I was transfixed by Gabe's work on the kit. He totally went for it as if his life and that of the people around him depended on it. At one point I thought to myself, it looks like he is fighting with his drums. The hammering coupled with intense emotion made for some enthralling eye candy. Kyle did his best to heckle the shit out of the band, and he even provoked some response from Gabe. The show knocked my socks off, and it became the focus of ever conversation I had for the rest of the weekend.

It will be awhile before their next show because Gabe is heading on his much hyped Lord of the Rings tour, but stay tuned for further shows. We'll be pimpin' them harder than Nelly.

I gathered my thoughts and took my Big Sleep inspired raging mega-boner to the Mercury Lounge to see the next big thing, (since slim shady). As I entered the club, Anna grabbed me and introduced me to Rob from The Picture. Unfortunately I missed their set, but we crept into the backroom as The Head Set took the stage. Now it's been awhile since my last tHS experience, but I'm constantly running into these fella's in the neighborhood so it was great to finally lend some support. They've really beefed up their sound and you could tell by their enthusiasm and stage presence that they knew what was at stake on a bill of this magnitude. My attention span was a bit broken, but they turned up the awesome and even impressed their biggest fan, (who was an all-star all his own). Stop by Crash Mansion on Friday night to sample a tasty dish from this NYC quartet, (hint: it's free and there is an open bar from 9-10 just email here - rsvp@newyorkunderbelly.com).

By the time the new sensation was headed to the stage, the back corner was populated with familiar folks like Gigs, Beacheros, Lil Beacheros, Anna, Peter and me. We buckled up tightly for The Editors first NYC show, and trust me - they killed. Now this might piss Jerry off, but yes, their sound is derivative and they do sound like an Interpol Jr. It is an undeniable quality of their sound. Fortunately, they write very catchy pop songs that come doused with some of the best hooks around. They are a copy of a copy, and I'm perfectly fine with it. Let's just hope they don't spawn a movement ala the 2000 garage rock come back were everyone and their cousin sounded like The Stooges and The White Stripes. So sure, comparisons to Joy Division and Interpol come easier than most prom dates, but to say they didn't crush a packed Mercury Lounge would be a lie. If their label is smart they'll get the record out soon. The iron is heating up and it's time to run around the country leaving imprints on all the pasty indie kids. Here are some more takes:

** Brooklyn Vegan (pics for tBS and Editors come courtesy of BV)
** Yeti Don't Dance
** Village Indian (setlist and review)
** Stereogum
** The Modern Age (Saturday)

After a brief bar hang and some tequila shots, Christie and I ran into Dana, Shaps and Nicky who were on their way to 85A for the after party. We realized Jordan had hooked us up with some bracelets for the party so we stopped in to hang. The night spiraled at that point. Apparently, I was scared by a publicist, met some writers and blew a friend off on the walk home; talk about legendary.

After The Show Is The After Party...

Saturday I woke up to find Dee hanging in the living room. This rarely happens as the sleeping patterns of the wild Kyle and Dee tend to avoid interaction with sunlight. Around noon Dee was able to wrestle Kyle from bed and the three of us hit up Supper for some fantastic brunch. From there I proceeded to follow Dee around as she ran a pile of errands. We hit a ton of record shops and electronic stores as she was in search of a stereo and I was looking for the Jay-Z Unplugged album. We both succeed thanks to Katrina at Best Buy who was totally rad and willing to put up with me being a jackass.

After some time spent with the leatherette, I put on my Sunday best to meet a crew at Lotus who got together to wish Lindsay a fond farewell, (girl is moving back to Chicago for awhile and in turn breaking a lot of hearts - mine included). The crew included Shannon, Sarah, Debbie, Mattie, Zav, Tim, Nicolas, Dan, Matty G and the lady of the hour. We worked up buzzes thanks to Blake and I even managed to come up big with a chapagne toast. Around 10pm we met Christie on the street and worked our way up to Jack's house for a raging house warming party. His ridiculous apartment was packed full of kids. It was the best house party I've been to in ages, but I can't get into too much detail as it was all a blur of hilarious events and serious beer consumption. Every tribe was represented and we commingled like the first Thanksgiving. I'd like to say that Danny and Beach will go down (they culkined me twice) and whoever kicked me in the shin owes - I owe you one. My personal highlights were the 6am dance party, Rory's twin and me telling that dude Grant who is on that website I Keep A Diary that I've seen his balls a number of times.

The rest of my weekend was spent watching football with Kyle, Dee, Gigs and Beach. I'm getting really good at hanging out with couples. Choose Romance - it seems to work for my friends. Go Steelers. Kyle and I are pretty psyched that our hometeams are playing against each other in the Superbowl. I'm not a Steelers fan, but I'll be routing for them against the Hawks.

This dropped in my mailbox about 13 hours ago. It is from an unknown source. If you have any ideas to the origin of this email let me know so I can give you credit for totally destroying everything I hold dear. On that note, it's over. Keep it mad sexy robotic taco and call me when the next football season starts. If you don't know, you've been sereved:

To whatever loose record bastard is concerned:

It's come to my attention that there are a variety of rumors floating around your office that may be totally damaging to whatever honest reputation that precedes my organization, namely that it was responsible for a thrown chair that hit a girl in the back of the head at pianos, the concert goer that was kicked in the nuts at the syrup room by a hooded figure in the middle of what has been described as a "yelling fit", or that some bottle rockets were set off downstairs at Fat Baby. None could be further from truth! For those who may not understand what sort of situation could warrant outbursts of this nature and for anyone to possibly believe them, we encourage you to come and try this. We don't believe a person really needs chemicals to enjoy music, but we like to skip dinner and have two knifers and two beers and go stand about 10 feet from Danny Sleep's stack. We're not fucking around either, get right up there, everyone else is afraid. You'll see too. This is probably the knifers talking, when this band really lays into one of their songs, all the molecules in the room align and start to vibrate. Then they start to shake, until everything in the room is quaking. The room swells and bottles and pint glasses begin shattering. Then all the white dudes start dancing, and pretty soon all the chicks are having orgasms. I've never seen anything like it before. It's like a vacuum that sucks the life from the lifeless. It's massive and it is very loud, but this shit is the color of glass. Where the white light gleam meets the shadow of blue, it moves and crashes like the ocean. Danny Sleep and Gabe Sleep alone could very well send bricks flying out of the walls of the Mercury Lounge. If Sonya Sleep didn't keep it rolling together like sex… yeah, someone might get punched in the face. What? Who's fault is that anyway? Not us. Go and see. I wouldn't be surprised if Sonya, Danny, and Gabe kill people at every show. I'm not kidding. I saw Kele Okereke at one of their shows once, and Danny played this riff that set his head on fire! The rest of his friends flew apart like burnt confetti. I swear to god, it was fucking crazy. Now that we're straight, you should know that The Big Sleep is a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer that really know how to rock and you should go see them play if you want to see something that kicks some ass for a change. Thanks.

-blackhoodcrew

This morning I was surprised to see an old friend's name on the top of my Gmail inbox. Figuring it was a "happy new year, here's what's going on in my life" type email, I gladly clicked on the waiting message. Now, I'm not going to say exactly who this is, but those of you who have a guess are exactly right. It's so like him it made me piss my pants - LITERALLY, (ok, it didn't but that was my David Cross reference for the day). Here is that email:

Alright boys, in order to break up the monotony in your lives, and help me advance in mine; I'm enlisting the three of you as my "professional references" as I'm applying for jobs over here across the pond. While it is highly unlikely any employer will bother to try to get in touch with any of you, I want you all to be prepared and ready to lie through you teeth on my behalf. if by the off chance someone does try to call or email any of you, here are the roles I've placed you in:

Jay: Yours is easiest because its true, I've listed you as my supervisor from NYU law when I worked there a few years back

La Muchaco: Yours is a little complicated...you own a landscaping company called "Envision Custom Landscapes" based in Thousand Oaks, CA. I worked for you from June of '03 through May '04, serving as your on-site foreman.

Mr. Robotic: Yours has a kernel of truth, albeit it a small one. Just tell them how you were my boss during our glory years at Family Entertainment toss out the name Kermit Pemberton...his reputation proceeds him world-wide

...now remember, there is relatively small chance anyone will call, but I wanted you all to know what I was up to. Remember, lie my friends, and lie well, live by the words of the immortal George Costanza..."its not a lie, if you believe it".

Good looking out boys.

What a jackass. It was so funny. I remember doing this stuff in college - those were the days. I hope Tommy and Paul don't feel left out. The most ridiculous part of this process is that male escorts in London require these sort of references. Total Bull-Roar.

Anyway, a couple other pieces of awesome that I'd like to bring to your attention is this week's edition of The Weekender at WOXY. Additionally, today is your last chance to make your vote count for The Plug Awards so stop looking at internet porn and do something useful with this thing called cyberspace. Don't sit on Front Street and the corner of Perpetration Ave (lifted from the Slangtionary) - give some well earned propers to the folks at WOXY for keeping our ears happy and our minds wandering.

Speaking of propers, we'd like to thank the kind folks at Flavorpill. Unbeknownst to me, the crew over at the Pill has put together a Zagat's guide of sorts for all types of culture and appropriately called it the F-List. They were kind enough to recognize us as one of the Best New Music Resources on the interweb. Manhattan Island! Lemme Hold That!

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

Everywhere I Go, The Black Keys
Human After All, Daft Punk
Filler, Minor Threat
Tombstone Blues, Bob Dylan
The People of the Secret, Helio Sequence
Blank Generation, Richard Hell & The Voidoids
Maxwell Murder, Rancid
Scissors, Guided By Voices
One More Night, CAN
Lite That Ass On Fire, Mark Ronson (feat. Busta & Neptunes)
Cracks In The Causeway, Oxford Collapse

The best flat-top ever at the Pontiac in Philly, courtesy of Stevo.

Seriously, everyone knows the glory that is Law and Order, but someone should tell TNT (the network, not the Minnesota band Dana loves so dearly) to stop playing so many back-to-back episodes. By now they should understand that three straight episodes is extremely detrimental to the fabric of our capitalistic democracy. You can't work in front of that show. Throw in the fact that the last episode of the triple crown combined forces with Homicide in one all-star crossover about the murder of a 14 year old super model. Did anyone else see this? It was four hours of sheer bliss that prevented me from getting any further than my kitchen to cook some dinner.

Since Last Night Was A Wash ::

Let me drop a couple dimes right here. First piece of silver moneys comes courtesy of yesterday's commenter who pointed out that my iPod shuffle rarely delivers any ska. Now my suspicions lead me to believe it was either Mina or Dan who left that comment since they both are expert skankers. If you know well, then you might have a clue that I was a big ska-punk kid back in high school. There wasn't much reasoning behind this except that all the shows were super fun and they were basically the only bands that rolled through State College's Crowbar on a regular basis. The college town boomed thanks to the ska era, and it even extended down to Pittsburgh where we made many trips to Club Laga. We ruled the central PA ska scene with a four strong iron fist, but all good things much come to an end.

Upon moving to NYC in 1999, I decided to leave most of my ska records behind in search of something new that challenged me a bit. My first group of friends introduced me to the whole DJ culture. I absorbed bands like Daft Punk, DJ Shadow, DJ Premier and DJ Spooky at a mile a minute. Though I'd never turn away from those artists, the scene they created wasn't for me. This landed me on the front steps of Weinstein talking to Lou because he was out there more than anyone. He was a consistent anti-social who was clad in a Minor Threat t-shirt. As a sincere lover of Fugazi, I approached him and he completely flipped my shit by introducing me to old hardcore and classic New York rock. This began my headfirst dive into rudimentary rock n' roll and my eventual resurface in the world of indie rock.

The big personal question lies in the idea of what's next? Is it time for me to move on? Though it feels like I've found a solid state with indie rock, I've never really understood where a kid like me fits in the big picture. Maybe it's time to move on. Is hip hop a logical progression? Maybe a move to something like trance or Top 40. Ok, this is all bullshit, but it makes me wonder how long I can keep up this front. Maybe I can help Katie Notop start her long overdue ska revolution. Isn't it time to make the mid to late 90's retro? I think so.

Airing my grievances on this blog gets more difficult everyday, but that was the original reason to start a blog. Maybe I should start something new, something anonymous; a ghost blog of sorts. Wait, who am I kidding? I have two jobs and attempt to manage this website. This reminds me... anyone out there who has job opportunities come across their desk, please send them my way. I'm dying to get out of my current position in academic administration. It feels like a huge waste of everyone's time.

Ok, I'm done bitching. Someone make me happy.

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

Endless Shovel, Rogue Wave
Debaser, Pixies
Foolish Little Girl, The Shirelles
Gedenkminute (Fur A+K), Neu!
Little Friends, Ponys
One, Eno / Bono / The Edge
A Final Warning, Caribou
Rudi, A Message To You, The Specials (I swear!)
Cut Your Hair, Pavement
She Cracked, Modern Lovers

And now for Kyle's two impressions of British people: 1. Ding Dong, I'm a biscuit. 2. Pip Pip, buy some car insurance. The first person to guess the origin of these two phrases wins something... I don't know what, but you win.

For the past couple years a long time college friend of mine has worked on the documentary film Why We Fight by Eugene Jarecki, (Preview). Alessandra, who now has somewhat of an IMDB profile, has fallen off the face of the earth to totally engulf herself in the project as an Associate Producer. She recently recruited Erin to help finish the film, and after all this hard work and festival pushing they are finally ready to celebrate the film's theatrical release. This Friday, Why We Fight, will open in both Los Angeles and New York (Angelika and Lincoln Plaza). You can learn more about the film from the cover story in this week's Time Out NY. Congratulations to the crew on what appears to be a job well done.

An Interesting Point ::

Yesterday my sports guru and I had a bit of an email discussion regarding the Jets new head coach. It went under the blog radar due to the mile long weekend recap. Thankfully someone (I'm guessing Paul or Yaps) reminded me in the comments section of that post. He or she pointed out that Eric Mangini's name is only one vowel away from being Mangina. If you don't know what a Mangina is, find Michael or Jordan or whoever has the Polaroid of Brody doing one circa 2000. It will make you piss your pants. Anyway, this acquisition comes with a book of questions, the most glaring being - why did we go defense? To say the Jets offense in 2005 was disappointing would be a gross understatement. Yes, the offense was riddled with injury, but finishing second to last in yards per game and fourth to last in points scored should have raised some questions on how Heimerdinger ran the offense. While the offense did their best to get off the field quickly (that's a bad thing), defensive coordinator Donnie Henderson still rallied the troops to be the 12th best defense in the league and I'd hate to see him go. Mangini comes fresh from the school of Belichick and even did a little studying under the guise of The Tuna, but isn't his appointment to head coach a bit premature? He has some friends in the Jets' organization, but this wet behind the ears defensive coordinator may need a bit more time before he is in control of a team. Hopefully the offense will get an injection by acquiring a quarterback and even a young running back from the draft that can shadow Martin over his last couple years, but the jury is still out on whether or not Mangini will have to tuck it between his legs and change his last name.

Back To The Rock ::

Last night I had to work the sold out Hard Fi show at Bowery Ballroom. My intention was to cruise upstairs after my shift to see what all the Brits are buzzing about, but after some solid crazy time, all I could muster was a quick whiskey and brief hang with Andy (go see his band tomorrow at Pianos) before rolling home to crash out. Jeff was there and gives a brief overview of the show, but will be sure to give you the whole picture in Gothamist.

Lately I've felt like it's been difficult to care about music. Maybe I'm still bumming my self-inflicted holiday slump, but right now none of it really matters to me, (outside of that new Strokes album). In an effort to turn the power back on, I'm planning to hit a couple shows to round out this week. Tonight could either find me at Tonic for Skeleton and the Girl-Faced Boys or the Mercury for LEVY while tomorrow is a toss up between Saints + Lovers at Fat Baby, Aberdeen City at Mercury or (most likely) Lolita Bras, Comas and Mazarin at Pianos. Then Friday features the main event at the Mercury Lounge where The Editors plan to pop their American cherry. And hell, I might even head out to the Syrup Room on Saturday to see the Odawas simply because that place rocks so hard and Fader is all on their jock. Here's to hoping this run jump starts my heart.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to send out day-late and dollar-short birthday wishes to a Mr. Adam Mandel and a Ms. Mia Slaydek. Hopefully you guys kicked some ass and took all sorts of names last night.

This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

Vindictive, The Slits
Autobahn Music Box, Cut Copy
Half A Person, The Smiths
Kill You, Eminem
Knowing How the World Works, Les Savy Fav
D.2. Boyfriend, The Moldy Peaches
My Doorbell, The White Stripes
Bankrupt On Selling, Modest Mouse
Getchoo, Weezer
Busted Heart, Bishop Allen
Like A Honeycomb, British Sea Power

I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate everyone involved in last weekend's college-esq style weekend. We took it to another level, and for that I am thankful. It all began around 5pm on Friday when I met my coworkers Lauren and Andrea at Juanita's to celebrate Lauren's last day in the office. We pounded down a couple of drinks before we were joined by Noah, Stevo, Pete and Pete's buddy. Somewhere around the third margarita Noah and I started texting like crazy to find out if the rumors were true - The Strokes were on the Crash Mansion schedule as Wild Stallion. We didn't think it was too outrageous since there were tons of questions surrounding their 'small club' appearance in NYC and they once played the Mercury as The Shitty Beatles. Noah even got confirmation from a credible source so we decided the walk over would be worth it regardless. When we got to the club it was nearly empty, but we did find The GoStation boys working through their set list. They explained that the band wanted a no pressure gig to try out their new lineup and songs; thus the Bill and Ted's inspired moniker.

Semi-defeated we rolled back over to my neck of the woods to grab some food and wait for the D.C. contingency to show up. By 10pm we had a strong crew assembled that included The Knowledgist, Jules, Erin and Oveis. We cruised down to Lolita Bar to celebrate Sarah Bones' birthday. The bar was packed with kids including Mike Bones who was back from his semester down under. Seeing that kid is always a riot. From here the night got a little crazy starting with a brief altercation that involved some dickbag grabbing Jordan by the throat for bumping into him. Who are these assholes who do shit like that? Stevo and I told him it would be wise for the dude to just let it go, but Jordan - knowing he was backed by a bar full of kids - continued to antagonize the guy to hilarious proportions. Eventually the crew simmered down.

At this point Shannon, Tim, Knowledge, Jules and I tried to get our dance on, but Orchard Bar gave us the "Ladies Only" treatment so we opted for a slice instead. We cruised back to Lolita where I got some hang time in with the Tots Probs Maybs ladies before a small crew trekked over to the Bowery for some basement drinking. The night continued to get blurry, but one thing is for certain - Beach and I managed to pour a considerable amount of beer in each others crotches and I wore motorcycle goggles for the rest of the night. Yes, we are class acts. The night ended with another stop by Orchard Bar. This time we were able to get in, but we didn't stay long as Knowledgist kept falling asleep. The little guy was tuckered out.

I'm Back Baby ::

Saturday began with a brief Loose meeting at 186 to introduce ourselves to Alex who is the latest edition to the intern crew. Once the time was right, Knowledge, Jules, Oveis, Erin and I met Dana on the street before hightailing over to the Path Station to meet a crew that included Noah, Shannon, Beach, Gigs, Rebecca, Danny and Rachel for a trip out to Jersey City for some Chili's action. If you recall, my last experience at this beloved establishment was marred by terrible service and a charred steak so it was with mild trepidation that I participated in this exodus. Thank god I went because Chili's totally redeemed itself on the shoulders of Josh - our kick ass waiter. The guy spotted us a mile away and knew exactly what he had to do to score a big tip. His fatal flaw was that he didn't push the bar staff hard enough to keep our margarita intake at an all time high. Thankfully we did well and my belly had a mix of El Nino, boneless wings, chips n' salsa, Shanghais wings, awesome blossom, ribs, shrimp, loaded mash and some season vegetables floating around. Holy shit we had a ton of food, (thanks to Dana for the pics).

So we jumped back on the train after Beach took it upon himself to toss Oveis in the pricker bushes outside of the Double Tree Hotel. Yes, Oveis cried all the way back to our apartment where we reassembled to watch the playoff games. As afternoon became evening we devoured a couple bottles of tequila and a small army of PBR's. Saturday's games were decent, but nothing topped what we would see on Sunday. Somewhere around midnight, Beach, Gigs, Knowledge and I cruised over to the Knit to catch some of the Akron/Family set. We didn't really come prepared, but we were able to talk our way into the back room. The room was jammed full of kids so we opted for the balcony that was equally as packed, but we did manage to carve out a spot. Let me say this, I was shit hammered at this point, but Akron/Family blew me the fuck away. No joke. The last time I caught this band it was some sort of extended hippie jam that Carter talked me into seeing at Nublu. Something changed since then and they have become a confident, balls out rock band. Sure, they still work in that hippie Devendra camp, but still they bowled me over. They even prompted the audience to do some "Ca-Caws" which is tops in my book.

At some point Knowledge and I retired to the front bar to grab a drink with Yalan. She fed us some sort of Chocolate Cake shot that was delicious, but sent me over the edge. The two of us bounced back up to the neighborhood, but the crew was in a bar transition so we stopped by the Mercury where Greg fed us more shots. From there we met with Kyle, Dee, Matt, Jules and some others at Whiskey Ward. I can't really piece the end of this evening together, but I was playing pool like some sort of possessed champion on ice.

Begin Decompression ::

After two, or was it three, straight days of going big, Sunday began on the lighter side when Builder, Oveis and I cruised into Clinton Street Bakery for some brunch. We waited nearly an hour only to find out they were out of Mussel Bisque. Builder spent some time crying, but we rebounded with crab cake sandwiches. We got back to the house in time to start a long afternoon of sitting on our asses and watching football. The only couch interruption time came when Jersey Dan was stuck on Clinton Street with broken driver side door. Kyle and I popped over there post the unreal Steeler-Colts finish and helped him fix his ride. We proceeded to watch the Bears get their lunch handed to them before we ordered nearly $100 worth of Crif Dogs. We also got mad robotic while smoking Dutchies and watching Jay-Z's Fade to Black, (Preview). The night ended in the kitchen where Knowledge, Matt, Tropical Storm and I played some Texas Hold'em. I ended up taking the purse on the last card when the river hit me with a full boat. Sometimes dumb-shit luck is my best quality.

Yesterday was spent close to home. Christine and I met for some brunch at Angelina's. We haven't had the chance for a proper catch-up session so this was quite nice. Afterwards it was on to Key Food before returning to the house to clean, cook dinner and then work until bedtime. I'm so fucking domesticated its sick, (I even packed my lunch today). Love me.

Once again, great work by the D.C. crew. Hopefully I can return the favor in the very near future, (maybe Friday if we're all lucky).

The deck was stacked in our favor last night. It was physically impossible for me to have another shitty evening. Thankfully I had the stones to lay it all on the table, and I came out a winner. We did it baby. We shocked the world!

Raise Your Hand If You're The Biggest Tn'T Fan Ever.

So it's been a couple of years since the last time I stepped into Schiller's which is somewhat ironic since it is the second closest restaurant to my front door, (or maybe the third). I was never a fan of this joint and always considered it the Dark Room of eateries. Well, in that sense I was correct, but you can't knock the food. Last night there was a party in my mouth and the only two attendees were Mr. Calamari and his ex-wife Ms. Tuna Sandwich. Tuna brought all their kids along, but only 2/3 of the little fry guys were on the list. Molly and I filled our bellies while the damn waitress stopped in ever two minutes to make sure we were all set. How's a brother supposed to kick game with some wannabe commercial actress breathing down his neck? Ok, I wasn't kicking game, but she still annoyed the hell out of us.

After dinner I headed to the back picnic table of Juanita's to join Dana, Meredith, Shaps and Nicki for a margarita. Shaps was going on and on about The Cheesecake Factory that apparently isn't a desert spot - news to me. We finished up and skipped (hand in hand) over to Rothko for Jason's party. The line was littered with familiar faces, and once we were inside it became apparent that the show would be like a college kegger for the cool kids, (yes, myself included). The man of the hour was milling around looking sharp in a black suit and white tie while looking nervous all the same. We had the discussion about how the last 10 minutes before the first band goes on is always the most nerve racking. The room was half full, but by the time Sam Champion took the stage, the club tipped capacity. Lucky for just Mr. James was on the case and tried to keep things under control the best he could.

So you've heard the name before - Sam Champion. By now you know I'm in love with this band and this love now extends way beyond that of it being a friend's band. The show was originally billed as Noah Chernin from Sam Champion, but only because they are playing a show at Mercury Lounge on January 27th with Dr. Dog, (check it). The whole band showed up in impressive fashion. My favorite moment of their set happened when Mike leaned into me and said, "This band is going to be huge." At this point Noah shouted into the mic, "We're Sam Champion! Who the fuck are you!" as the band ripped into "Mexican Rags". Sean brought his side-pipe to the front of the stage for some solo flaunting at the end of the track. The next song was a new track that featured a fun call and response chorus that led them into "All of Our Tomorrows" which they've amped up for the live performances.

Halfway through the set I cruised to the back of the room to chat with James, but when I returned it was so fucking packed in the back so it became necessary to push my way to the front where I found Dana and Mia rocking out. We watched as they killed their last song, "TV Fever", but I have to set the record straight. Sean Bones claims I was up front text messaging and not paying attention while he doused me with his rock pixie dust. Dude, I was up there feeling it! It was my own dumb fault to think all the pointing was at some chick rather than the chubby dude who was scribbling shit on his notepad. Another proper Sam Champion set is in the books. It just hit me that we have a Webster show the night of their next gig so you'd better go and represent in my absence.

During changeover I had a couple of quick drinks and slipped to the back for the Tapes n' Tapes set. Though Jerry might get upset, I'm going to say this show impressed me a lot more than the Mercury gig. Maybe it was just me, but they finally proved to be a band on the rise. Though I'm only sold on half their songs, they have a few tracks that blow me away. I can't wait for their record to hit my mailbox. I was warned its a grower, and thankfully all I got is time. Maybe I'll be at Dana-esque fandom proportions by the time I land in Texas. Check out what grand master Mission had to say - he was right on.

Around 11pm Beach and I hustled over the Bowery to catch the We Are Scientists set. After a quick hello to the crew, I rolled into the back corner where Jin and Mike had propped themselves. What came next was a really tight set by the trio who is't scientists at all, but really appreciate the weather. They opened with one of my favorites, "This Scene is Dead" and proceeded to wow the sold out crowd with a pile of hooks and cute stage banter. Now being a friend of Michael, who hits the skins for this band, will always keep me an avid fan, but after last night's show and some rethinking of my opinion on it, this band has me totally sold. Every tune has a bit of bounce underneath the standard guitar-drum-bass dynamic that has the unique ability to get by on its simplicity. The band completely took me back when they covered "Be My Baby". For a second I was transported back to my living room as a kid when my dad used to dance around to soul classics, (Rachael has an audio clip). They finished the first portion of their set with "Great Escape" which might be one of the best songs of 2003... er... 2006. We Are Scientists are totally tits.

On the walk home I stopped by Magician to have a quick drink, but followed Noah and Matt back to Rothko. From there the night became a fun mess. Michael Showalter played a solid mix, but seriously guy - The Killers? Whatevs. But big thanks to James for the drinks. Also, good looks to Josh and Becca who were top of the pops.

In a matter of minutes tickets will be onsale for a second night of Silver Jews at Webster Hall, (March 18th). Buy tickets! Don't count on me to sneak you in - I'll be getting sunburnt in Austin! The March 17th show is already sold out. Don't miss the boat - bitches.

There are some many trains parked in Hype Station. The latest departure headed in the direction of Tapes n' Tapes, but past trips include stops at Arcade Firetown, The Annual Thanksgiving Wolf Parade, Block Party Village and The National Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Convention. At one point a train to the city of Art Brut was on the board, but it never left the station. Maybe their brief stint around the country this past November was not enough to cause holiday season style travel rushes, but don't cross them off your list of things to see.

Now is your chance. One of my favorite bands from 2005 is coming back to New York. On April 4th and 5th, the Bowery Ballroom will be taken over by ART BRUT! Tickets go on sale Wednesday, January 18th at Noon. Snatch them quickly.

Speaking of snatching quickly, YYY's are on sale in less than 15 minutes - I promise. Don't delay.

One final note: If you know who this post is regarding (and we do) you'll think the Missed Connection is totally hilarious. First he's a hippy; now he's a lumberjack. Amazing.

Ok, juicy bit of information for you here. Though it is not 100% definite, word on the street is that tickets for the two Yeah Yeah Yeahs' shows at the Bowery Ballroom will be onsale Friday, January 13th at Noon. The shows are scheduled for the 24th and 25th of February.

Also, tomorrow I'll have another big show announcement so make sure you check back. You'll love this one - trust me.

Tonight is going to be the first night of 2006 that has me jumping around from show to show. The evening will likely start with margaritas at Juanita's prior to hopscotching over to Rothko for the Productshop NYC show featuring Sam Champion, Tapes n' Tapes and Group Sounds. The club is sure to be full of kids trying to catch a final glimpse of T n' T before they head home. Then it's off to the Bowery where I'll hopefully catch a few songs by Oxford Collapse and a full set by those adorable kitten lovers, We Are Scientists. If there is any gas left in the tank, I'll return to Rothko for the WAS afterparty featuring the Tarts of Pleasure and some guy who doesn't make a very funny talking head on the decks.

My apologies for the lack of updates the past couple of days. The truth is, there hasn't been much to talk about. The day job has been killing me. The office has been crazy, but by the middle of next week we should be back to normal. Thankfully this weekend features three allstars in NYC for one great performance: The Knowledgist, Jersey Dan and Capt Boat Shoes aka Oveis. Look for me - I'll be the one passed out at 5pm.

Today I feel like the kid pictured here. Am I someone's punching bag? You bet. Thank god my body was killing me after the Ben Gibbard shift last night. If my ass would have gone out last night, I might be postal at this point in the day. Thanks to Anna for keeping me company last night while the indie rockers filed into the Bowery. My one regret is missing Malkmus play "Gold Soundz" at his solo acoustic gig last night in the Knitting Factory Tap Bar. Hopefully some sun shines through the day, but things aren't looking too promising. Cheer me up.

:: This Morning's iPod Shuffle ::

In the Fog, The Double
In Sadding Around, Jawbreaker
After This, Ikara Colt
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, Black Sabbath
The Party's Crashing Us, Of Montreal
Next Plateau, Longwave
Fall In Love With Me, Iggy Pop
The Girls Want To Be With The Boys, Talking Heads
Lapland, Ratatat
A Kiss To Tell, Diamond Nights