Hipsters are funny ... looking
I've found a new reason to get up each Friday: Since DC's Williamsburg-wannabies only seem to leave their apartments once a month, it's nice to know that Tale of Two Cities serves up my weekly dose of scenester fashion snark. This week's crop is especially entertaining.
Jealous that your golden-girls tee/daisy dukes combo didn't make the cut? My Blog Is Poop has some tips for channeling your inner douche. Sunglasses at night. Ciggies. Cheek sucking.
But nothing beats a recent Black Cat sighting of a six-foot tall black woman in electric blue satin hot pants, heels and fishnets dancing like Tina Turner to New Order.
"Call me when your sac drops."
I've never considered myself to be a quotable person. The rambling nature of my conversational manner generally precludes pithy sayings. However, my roomate will not let me live down a particularly crass comment I hurled at some unsuspecting indie rockers many moons ago.
I was frusterated with the lack of proverbial balls among the shy music types I tend to be attracted too. Walking up 14th past the Black Cat I looked across at a herd of particularly adorable music geeks and yelled, "Hey boys, call me when your sac drops." I have no idea what possessed me to say it. But there you have it. It's become my most quoted phrase.
I thought of it today when Stereogum posted this track:
"Indie Boys (Don't Deserve It)" by Queens of Noize. He says: "If you're an assertive scenester girl who is growing bitter after being burned by Seth Cohen and Conor Oberst types, then this is YOUR summer jam."
Fey isn't gay
When I saw this headline "Queer as Rock: The Decemberists," I was elated. "Finally," quoth I, "an explanation for why Colin isn't currently making sweet literate love to me."
But alas, the column turns out to be case #6757855376 of a good writer getting stuck on a clever headline. The article itself is a pretty good read of the band's relationship with the Moz and Victorian culture. But she sets it up with that distracting GAY thing at the outset, a GAY move that ultimately distracts from the logic of the piece.
Further evidence about the lack of GAY in Decemberists land: this video! Our hero rocks community theater chic with his portrayal of a Model UN bully. SO NOT GAY.
Oh Canadia!
I celebrated Brooklyn this weekend with a free concert in Prospect Park. Now I don't live in Brooklyn, but there must be many a Canadian there because this Brooklyn celebration had an awful lot of (insert stereotype here) canucks rawking the microphone. AND the one American who should have been in the mix was mysteriously replaced with one of the canuck's canuck nieces.
However, it's clear that God is down with Canadia because he turned the day's sweltering heat into a breezy dream of an evening just in time for them to take the stage. In spite of a generally lethargic crowd, The Sadies turned out some sugary alt-country goodness (I hadn't heard much of them before, but they had a sweet Jayhawks-y vibe).
Stars were quite possibly the most rag-tag group of dorky rockers I've seen in a long while. But from the midget Chris Martin lookalike to the lanky chick singer to the shirt-open-to-belly-button guido, I'll be damned if they weren't incredibly charming. Songs that were a bit wan on the album were playfully exuberant live.
The crowd finally got off their bums for The New Pornographers. Though I was concerned about the lack of Neko, AC's niece Kathryn Calder navigated her way through "Mass Romantic" and "The Laws Have Changed" admirably. Yeah, yeah, she can't belt it out quite like Neko, but it was nice to hear Kathryn and AC on equal vocal footing. They played quite a few tracks of their upcoming album as well as a personal favorite "Graceland" (off of Matador at 15). Killer chorus.
So though it can't compare to my favorite Canadia event of the year, I loved myself the Canadia/Brooklyn joyfest.
Check out photos and other reviews. Download "Graceland" here.
Come hell and haiku
Interview in verse,
Pitchfork bellyaching, "Why
didn't we do that?"
John Darnielle, question:
Do you pronounce with two, three?
Two, better haiku.
Hands claps and horn sections
My Friday thus far: slept through my alarm, stuck in traffic for an hour and a half, soggy sneakers from run-in with puddle, tummy ache from pizza over-eating, general melancholy from shitty weather.
I should be down. But Jens Lekman won't let it be so.
This silly Scandinavian just jousted his way into my heart with his video for "You are the Light." There are flute-playing policemen, traveling horn sections and hand claps aplenty. If you aren't smiling by the end, you aren't human.
Those of you in Göteborg can check out Lekman at the Ukulelefestivalen i Flunsåsparken. I hear it's a great venue!
I'll show you mine if ...
Newsflash: Hipster aggression is on the up and up. I first caught onto the trend at a recent DC9 show when my otherwise mellow friend nearly got into a bar brawl with a swarthy boy in a Members Only jacket.
And it seems similar wars are playing out on the mean streets of the big city. But the NYC kids have abandoned words for music, launching iPod wars. Preemptive strikes on the L train mean there is something bigger to fear than subway robbery: getting caught bopping to Britney. And because the rules of the quick draw prohibit talking, you can't even explain that you were listening to her ironically. Oh the humanity!
Read this article from The Brooklyn Rail to figure out how to protect yourself (and your playlists).
And in related iPod news, Hip Clicks today linked to the top 50 things to do with you iPod. I'm a huge fan of the retroPod (turning your old Walkman into a iPod case).
