Michael Jackson, Aug. 29, 1958-June 25, 2009

Whether you remember him fondly as the King of Pop or as a bizarre freak show whose every move was a public relations nightmare, it's impossible not to acknowledge the world lost a musical legend yesterday with the passing of Michael Jackson.

Growing up in the late 70s/early 80s, MJ was larger than life for a great deal of my childhood. And let's be honest with ourselves, Thriller remains to this day a phenomenal album. Sure, the titular video scared the bejeezus out of my at the time, but had I not broken my leg literally six weeks before my wedding, you can bet your sweet bippy that the first dance for the Missus and I would have been zombified.

In tribute, I present to you this little gem from Soul Coughing. It's about as weird as the man's life became, a rather apropos gesture, I believe. Enjoy.

(The quality isn't spectacular, but the glitches are in the beginning)

mp3: Michael Jackson (Soul Coughing)

LP Lust: Happy Birthday to Me Edition

So yours truly turned the big 3-0 last week. It shocked the hell out of me, too. In between being wined and dined (major emphasis on the wined, though several delectable meals were also had) by my beautiful friends and spending some less than quality time at the Broad St. DMV (Dear Commonwealth of Virginia, I am not a fan of the new drivers licenses), I (naturally) found the time to engage in a little birthday shopping (it's my birthday and I'll buy if I want to? Sorry, couldn't help myself). Surprisingly, I didn't go as crazy as I have on other spending sprees, which may or may not be a sign of my advancing age leading to some much-needed fiscal resolve (though I strongly suspect not). The vinyl in question came from a variety of sources, some from friends and some purchased in retail outlets. I probably missed the chance to excuse doing some major spending, but the birth month isn't over yet. Here's the skinny on the records that contributed to my milestone:

*Doves: Kingdom of Rust (Thanks, Tombo!)
*Dionne Warwick: Dionne!
*The Man With the Golden Arm OST
*The Rolling Stones: Tattoo You
*Lynyrd Skynyrd: Second Helping
*Nancy Sinatra: Movin' With Nancy
*Split Enz: Dizrythmia
*Nick Lowe: Nick the Nife
*The Guess Who: Wheatfield Soul

My collection has officially outgrown its' storage unit, thanks to this latest batch, so I'll soon be heading to Ikea to procure another cube to fill with heavenly vinyl.

Happy Birthday, Jeff

There is seemingly no end to the list of prolific, legendary, or otherwise fabulous people celebrating birthdays in the month of June (hey, even yours truly is a June baby). Obviously, June is a month inspiring creativity and beauty. And today it's Jeff Beck's turn, and as far as guitarists go, it's hard to get more legendary than the newly-minted Rock'n'Roll Hall of Famer Mr. Beck.

Whether you prefer his Yardbirds days, his golden age with Rod Stewart and Ron Wood (before they abandoned ship) in the Jeff Beck Group, or dig on his solo stuff (or any of his other projects), there's no denying the extreme virtuosity (and eccentricity) of Jeff Beck. Intense, moody, mysterious, and a little odd...just the way I like my guitarists (and my men, but that's neither here nor there).

I'll be throwing on my copy of the seriously atmospheric Truth this evening, to pay homage to one hell of a guitar player. I hope you'll do the same. Enjoy this brief interview between Jeff and good old Kurt Loder (you remember the days when MTV cared about good music, right?). Happy Birthday, Jeff.

Album Review: Pink and Purple by Alan Wilkis

It's officially summertime, so LET favorite Alan Wilkis must be at it again, making some of the most dance-friendly summer jams to come across my speakers in a while. For those of you who somehow forgot, I gave MUCH LOVE to Mr. Wilkis' debut, Babies Dream Big. His signature sound is once again in full effect, immediately bringing to mind early '80s synthesizer funk a la Prince, Rick James, Funkadelic and Stevie Wonder. Clearly, a good crowd with which to associate oneself.

Pink and Purple is a six track EP that clearly showcases Wilkis' sound, but brings in a number of heavy hitters to play back-up, too. He enlists Gunnar Olsen on drums (Earl Greyhound, Asobi Seksu), guitarists Grey McMurray (Bell, Matmos) and Ryan Ferreira (Bell), and Eric Biondo (Atibalas, Shakira, TV on the Radio, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and Tony Barba (Youngblood Brass Band) on horns. Impressive company, to say the least.

This is Saturday night roller skating music, so lace up those skates, free your mind and your ass most definitely will follow.

mp3: Dance With You

Live Review--Nouvelle Vague, La Maison Française, 6-18-09

Every one's favorite French bossa nova cover band, Nouvelle Vague, (I know it's hard to pick just one, but work with me here) blew through D.C. in a cloud of sexy last week. Headlining at the French Embassy, the band came on late, but still managed to give the crow what it wanted--namely, a bit of French chic on a balmy, summer eve. Following a line of slappily thrown together jokes about the fair Parisians (decide for yourself whether or not "cheese monkey" is funny; obviously, the answer is yes, it is), I settled towards the back of the room to enjoy the latest incarnation of the band. While the band may well have been founded by Marc Collin and Olivier Libaux, the evening definitely belonged to the two exquisite and lovely chanteuses, Melanie Pain and Nadeah Miranda. (The line-up of singers tends to rotate, similar to Zero 7.)

As the band began to play, a very stunning Miranda came out dressed in a black cloak, while an almost too cute Pain came out in a tasseled flapper dress. The two proceeded to work the crowd, posing like runway models, looking alternatively bored and ennui-filled as the mood dictated. I believe I honestly can say it was the first time I'd seen voguing in a long, long time. Between song commentary was delivered in both French and English, as the band never could seem to get a handle on whether the house was predominately local or foreign. Of course, to my ears, this made the show all the more appealing. Who doesn't love attractive French women giggling and encouraging the crowd to yell "Fuck" ("It is good to yell 'Fuck' in an Embassy.)? Nobody. Not even your grandfather.

The band ran through its full repertoire, from Nouvelle Vague ("This is Not a Love Song") and Band A'Part ("Ever Fallen in Love") to the latest, 3 ("Blister in the Sun," "God Save the Queen," "The American"). The highlight of the night, however, was the mid-set "Too Drunk to Fuck," played far closer to the Dead Kennedy's original than the band's own interpretation, complete with Miranda spitting a mouthful of water onto the adoring crowd. The only real complaint to be had was in the song progression choice. Seldom have I seen a show that would amp the crowd up, then go slow for a few songs, then up, then down, etc. Whoever did the set list for the night probably could have thought it through a bit better is all I'm saying.

Of course, that was a moot point for the audience, as Nouvelle Vague clearly had us at, "Bonjour."

mp3: Too Drunk to Fuck (Nouvelle Vague)

mp3: Come On Eileen (Nouvelle Vague)

mp3: Too Drunk to Fuck (Dead Kennedys)

Album Review: Jay Stay Paid

I'm guessing you've already heard the back story on the latest, posthumous release from Jay Dilla, Jay Stay Paid, but just in case...

The late hip-hop artist extraordinaire James Dewitt Yancey (aka Jay Dilla aka Jay Dee) has a new CD out, produced by his mother, Maureen Yancey, and his hero, Pete Rock. The two salvaged untold hours of unreleased beats by the genius to put the project together. The conceit is simple, playing out like a radio show, over both beats and radio clips from the past several years. Artists such as DOOM, Black Thought and Raekwon do guest duty.

What's most amazing about the project is how organic and fresh this thing sounds. There's no dust on these tracks whatsoever. Of course, that was always the beauty of Dilla's work. To describe his work is nearly beyond my humble abilities, coming across as some kind of futuristic Space Cowboy Ninja Pimp soundtrack with enough old school tastiness to make you want to smack your momma, as I believe the saying goes. (Don't ask where I get my sayings.)

While the instrumental tracks are truly amazing, the vocal appearances are just as incredible, if not more so. This is all the more amazing to me, as no one has any idea what Jay Dee had intended with these samples, yet these artists found more than enough material to create some off-the-chain rhymes to accompany the beats.

Sure, this thing is a labor of love, but the genius shines through nonetheless. As beloved a member of the hip-hop community as J. Dilla was, it would have been forgivable if this was a "mail it in" project. Thankfully for the listeners, this project is worthy of his best work ever. As the man allegedly left more stuff behind than Prince has in his own vaults and as well as this turned out, I'm a bit pumped to see what comes next from Jay Dee's estate.

mp3: Fire Wood Drumstix (ft. DOOM)

Live Review--TV on the Radio, 9:30 Club, 6-8-09

While I'm a huge TV on the Radio fan, I've got to admit, I wasn't blown away the last time they blew through DC. The problem for me is the difference in sound--the band sounds incredible on wax, benefiting from superb production work and an obvious ear for combining numerous sounds into a coherent whole. Live, though, a number of those elements are missing, from various instrumental touches to vocal over-dubs and the like.

Suffice to say, I wasn't expecting too, too much from the gang this time around. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be the best damn show I've seen at the 9:30 in recent memory.

I didn't get there in time for openers The Dirty Projectors, having had an important hockey game to lose earlier in the evening. To make matters more interesting still, I apparently ordered four tickets when I only meant to order two. While the guy I gave freebies to in front of the club seemed delighted, this was not the way I particularly wanted to start the evening.

And then the show started. TVotR played predominantly from Dear Science, ("Red Dress," "Family Tree"), but didn't shy away from earlier material, either ("Wrong Way," "Wolf Like Me"). The highlight, though, clearly came in the encore. A brilliantly played "Young Liars" led into TVotR and DP taking the stage together for a tribal drum-along version of "A Method." The fact that those are two of my favorite songs by the band certainly didn't hurt that situation. While the songs still sounded light years away from the CD versions, the band was much tighter than their previous show, seemingly inspired to new heights. There was a lack of chatter with the audience beyond thanking the openers, but every band has their own style, right?

The best part for me arguably had nothing to do with the music, surprisingly enough. Somehow, I managed to find the one perfect spot in the back of the club where I had a nearly clear view of the stage AND, far more importantly, I HARDLY WAS BUMPED INTO ALL NIGHT. Yes, yes, I know, let's not blow things out of proportion or anything, but is there anything better at a show than that? Of course not.

Anybody see the second night of the tour on Tuesday? Was it as good?

mp3: Young Liars

mp3: Playhouse (Kyp Malone live and solo)

It's Covered--Let's Go Get Stoned

(Ed. note--this post was inspired in part by the always wonderful She'll Grow Back blog and their dedicated mission to bring multiple covers of a given track.)

A sad, but true thing happened to me the other night whilst I was attending the St. Vincent show at the Black Cat. Out of nowhere and apropos of nothing, a couple seemingly not much younger than me approached and asked if I could settle a bet. They had seen my iPhone and wanted to know if I could Google to see if Joe Cocker still was alive. There was no need for that, however, as I knew the answer, having already secured tickets to his upcoming gig at Wolf Trap for myself.

I understand Joe has been off the main radar for years, if not decades, but still, this harmless question somehow hurt me. My Pop got me into JC years ago. Pop tells of seeing the gravely voiced belter during the Mad Dogs & Englishmen tour, and how, at one show, Joewas so drunk he fell off the stage not once, but twice! For whatever reason, I still consider that the height of concert viewship--seeing someone so messed up, s/he falls off the damn stage. I came close at a Pogues concert a few years ago, but, alas, such an occurence has escaped me thus far. One of the first times I ever smelled pot was at a JC show. The fact that it was being smoked by an obviously very pregnant woman who was then apprehended by an over six foot woman security guard still ranks as one of the more surreal things I've ever seen. And don't get me (or any other Gen-Xer for that matter) started on The Wonder Years. It was Joe that heralded the arrival of our favorite mathematician-to-be once an week and then heavily in syndication.

While I understand Mr. Cocker has long since cleaned up his act and gone the path of the sober, that's no reason to dismiss the man's legendarily infamous past. In fact, Let's Go Get Stoned. And with that, it's covered.

Originally performed by the late Ray Charles, the song was penned by the soon-to-be-famous-in-their-own-right Ashford & Simpson, as well as Joey Armstead. Others have covered it, too, including the Hardest Work Man in Show Business himself. Ray obviously set the standard, while JB goes the instrumental route here. Joe updates the lyrics to reflect a more contemporary selection of, um, "party favors," so there's that. I'll leave it up to you whether or not any advice offered in the music is worth heeding yourself.

NOTE--WE HERE AT LET DO NOT CONDONE PEOPLE THAT DO NOT CONDONE. SO, YEAH. MOVE ALONG; MOVE ALONG.

mp3: Let's Go Get Stoned (Joe Cocker)

mp3: Let's Go Get Stoned (Ray Charles)

mp3: Let's Go Get Stoned (James Brown)

Happy Birthday, Joe

This birthday boy has nothing whatsoever to do with music, unless there's some musical ode to his prowess on the football field that I've yet to hear. But as a graduate of the University of Alabama, I didn't think I should let this day go by without wishing a very, very Happy Birthday to the one, the only, #12: Joe Willie Namath.

Football fans, you'll probably remember him as "Broadway Joe", famous during his years as a New York Jet for his hair, his fur coats, and his affinity for the bottle. There was even a commercial for pantyhose, I do believe. But before making life interesting in New York, Joe was throwing his way to glory under the coaching of Bear Bryant down in Tuscaloosa. He's definitely one of the greats, and highly revered down among the annals of Alabama college football. And I don't think anyone can deny that back in the day he was a stone cold fox. In honor of his birthday, why not pick up a copy of his super sassy autobiography, "I Can't Wait Until Tomorrow...'Cause I Get Better Looking Every Day"?

Old Skool Review: The Fat Boys

It has come to my attention that virtually nobody is blogging about really old skool rap these days. That could well be because most bloggers weren't alive when Big Daddy Kane was as raw as they came, EPMD helped us to chill and Roxanne Shante had beef with UTFO. Well, the Old Skool Review hopefully is going to help change all that.

Up today, the Fat Boys. In addition to their girth, the original Disco Three spawned the illustrious Prince Markie Dee (Mark Morales), Kool Rock-Ski (Damon Wimbley) and Buff Love a.k.a. The Human Beat Box (Darren Robinson). In addition to various forays into acting, the thing to remember most about these cats was Buff's legendary beat box skills. Sure, many others stepped to the throne, and some even came close to taking the crown (I'm looking at you, Doug E. Fresh), but nobody could touch Buffy.

Sadly, Buff Love has since passed and Kool Rock-Ski went and got skinny, but they'll always be the Fat Boys to me.

mp3: Human Beat Box

mp3: Human Beat Box, Part II

mp3: Human Beat Box, Part III

Live Review: St. Vincent @ the Black Cat, Washington, D.C., May 22, 2009

I feel obligated to preface this review with the fact that I'm a pretty big fan of Annie Clark, the brains, voice, beauty and being of St. Vincent.

With that out of the way, can I say this was one of the worst concerts I've ever attended? Acoustically, damn near nothing went right for then entire hour-plus Ms. Clark played. The root of the problem seemed to revolve around the fact that the house sound guy simply didn't know what to do with Clark's exceptionally quiet voice. Add that to the fact that the audience was in a rare state of assholery, making so much noise as to effectively drown out half or more of the lyrics for damn near every song. I mean, seriously, even the guy at the merch table was talking so loud I could hear him from six feet away.

I simply cannot understand why anyone would pay good money to go listen to a band, only to yap through the entirety of the gig. Damn ass hats.

Interesting enough, NPR streamed the entire performance. I'm just listening to it myself now, and it already sounds much better than it did live. Clearly, her proximity to the mic is paramount to digging the live show. Sadly, some people simply sound superior on wax than they do live. It would appear, on this night at least, that St. Vincent falls clearly into that category.

mp3: Actor Out of Work

LP Lust: Memorial Day Edition

Greetings and salutations, my fine fellows! I hope everyone has been enjoying the bliss otherwise known as the three-day weekend. I am a serious proponent of a permanent three-day weekend, though, sadly, it doesn't look like this issue is going to be addressed anytime soon.

Anyway! What better thing to do over a holiday weekend than shop for vinyl! My latest additions to the ever-growing LP collection were purchased over two different shopping trips, one to the fantabulous Diversity Thrift here in Richmond, the other this past Saturday at the Plan 9 in Charlottesville. Here's what I ended up with:

*Leon Russell: Leon Russell
*Neil Young: Decade
*Bruce Springsteen: Nebraska
*Ike & Tina Turner: Get It-Get It!
*Harry Nilsson: A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night
*Gram Parsons: Grievous Angel
*Grand Funk: We're An American Band
*Various: Welcome to Tyrol
*Harry Nilsson: The Point!
*Magnavox Presents: A Reprise of Great Hits

All in all, I do believe I found some very excellent albums. I feel really lucky to be in an area that has such a wealth of good quality (and cheap!) used records.

Happy Birthday, Bob

As a fellow Gemini, I'd like to wish a certain legend a very, very Happy Birthday today. I'm sure y'all are already celebrating as we speak, but it's Bob Dylan's 68th birthday.

It's hard to know what to say about Bob, and equally hard to imagine a world without his music. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I am definitely a late bloomer when it comes to his music, but the first to admit that listening to "Girl From the North Country" almost always makes me cry. Dylan is unlike anyone, and it's probably safe to assume that there will never be another like him. His music has something to say, though perhaps it says different things to different people it is the antithesis of so much of today's popular music. A world without Bob Dylan would be a very frightening place, musically-speaking.

So join me, won't you, in wishing a Happy Birthday to the epitome of legend. Here's to you, Bob.

Zut Alors!: Sharing is Caring

Dearest friends,

As we all know, the economy is still a big old nasty piece of work these days. I'm feeling it, and I'm sure pretty much all of you are feeling it.

However, there's a matter that I wish to bring to your attention, and it is my hope that at least some of you will be able to participate.

You already know how highly we think of Mr. Trent Reznor around these parts, and both Chris and I subscribe to TR's Tweets. It was one of those Tweets that alerted me to what I'm now going to bring to your attention. Here's the message that Trent posted to the NIN site:

"A Letter from Trent:

This is for something important. Eric De La Cruz is dying and needs a heart transplant. He keeps getting turned down for a transplant list because he's on Nevada Medicaid, and there are no transplant centers in Nevada. We want to get involved and hopefully so do you, so we're extending a hand. His sister Veronica (former Anchor and Internet Correspondent for CNN) has started a campaign to save his life.

Eric's situation shines a bright light on a broken health care system, and his particular set of problems are being addressed on the political front, aiming for reform in addition to the need for immediate financial help to keep him alive TODAY. I think we can help with the latter.

Here's what we're offering - three options:

If you have a ticket to a NIN/JA show: if you donate $1,000 to this cause, we'll invite you to come hang out with us before the NIN/JA show of your choice. You and a guest can watch NIN and Street Sweeper Social Club's soundchecks, eat dinner backstage with us, take pics / get autographs and watch the show from the side of the stage if you'd like.

If you donate $300, you and a friend can join us for NIN and SSSC's soundchecks and a handshaking / hug session before doors open at the NIN/JA show of your choice.

If you do NOT have a ticket to a NIN/JA show: if you donate $1,200 to this cause, we'll invite you to come hang out with us before the NIN/ JA show of your choice and provide 2 tickets (best available). You and a guest can watch soundcheck, eat dinner backstage with us, take pics / get autographs and watch the show from the side of the stage if you'd like.

100% of the money collected from this will go directly to Eric's fund.

I hope you'll consider helping out with this.

Sincerely, Trent Reznor

DEADLINE FOR DONATION PACKAGES IS 5:00PM (PST) 2 DAYS PRIOR TO EACH NIN/JA TOUR DATE.
NO MORE DONATIONS CAN BE ACCEPTED FOR THE FOLLOWING DATES* 5.21.09 SANTA BARBARA, CA [SANTA BARBARA BOWL]* 5.22.09 MOUNTAIN VIEW, CA [SHORELINE AMPHITHEATRE]* 5.24.09 GEORGE, WA [THE GORGE - SASQUATCH FESTIVAL]"

Like I said, I know times are super tight for everyone these days. As of now, this fundraising effort has raised over $600,000 to help Eric. We all know how completely and totally fucked the health care system is in this country, and this is a way to help someone who really, really needs it who might not make it otherwise. If you can, I would urge you to consider donating. You can even donate $10, which I know is a lot for many of us. I can't even begin to say how awesome this is, what Trent and co. have done, because if you think about it, not many bands at all would consider doing something like this (in an era in which some bands will charge you simply to meet them, with the money going to them as opposed to an actual pertinent cause). So, in closing, sharing is caring, and what better way to share than helping someone who is truly in need. It'll warm your heart, guaranteed.

There's Still Time for Winning

Hello friends.

Worried you may have missed the deadline for our celebratory 10,000th hit contest? Fretting about missing out on free music par excellence? Fear not. Our contest is open until the waning hours of the 31st day of this very fine month of May. That gives you plenty of time to concoct the perfect reason (or reasons, as the case may be) why you love us ever so much. If you tell us why, and we both decide your reasoning is flawless, you'll be the happy owner of not one but TWO Monks CDs. And two, most definitely, are better than one (well, with most things, like Monks CDs).

So get cracking. We've already received some stellar entries, but we feel that there are others of you out there who should be entering this contest. Sadly, it's only valid for you US residents, but we still love you non-US folks just as much.

Hope everyone is enjoying their Memorial Day weekend! We believe that in the case of weekends, three days are better than two.

LP Lust: Graduation Edition

It's graduation time here in Richmond, and though it's been several years since I myself donned the cap and gown, I thought such an occasion would be the perfect time to pillage Plan 9's used vinyl for the first time in...probably not all that long (it's been a couple weeks, surely that shows some modicum of restraint, no?).

The store is but a brief 20-minute stroll from my place, so after a pleasant saunter in the humid morning to and fro Carytown, here's the goods that I was able to snag out from under my fellow Richmonders:

*Bobbie Gentry: Touch 'Em With Love

*Split Enz: Waiata

*The Charlie Daniels Band: Fire On the Mountain

*Nancy Sinatra: Country, My Way

*Bruce Springsteen: The Wild, The Innocent, & the E Street Shuffle

*Johnny Cash: Big River

*Emmylou Harris: Blue Kentucky Girl

*Split Enz: True Colours

*Staples Singers: Be What You Are

*Byrds: Byrds

Happy Birthday, Trent

He's been a regular fixture on this here site for quite some time now, so it's only right to wish LET's Sexiest Man of 2008 and Great Hope of the Music Industry, Mr. Trent Reznor, a very, very happy birthday.

Trent is currently in the midst of the NIN/JA tour with Jane's Addiction, and if you've never seen Nine Inch Nails, well, a) this is your last chance and b) it's a must-see event. Yours truly will be seeing the show when it rolls along to the DC area, and I hope you've been able to get your mitts on some tickets. I have no doubt that it'll be one of the best shows of 2009.

Happy Birthday, Stephen

My fellow Americans, as I'm sure you are already well aware (it's on my calendar, I can tell you that), today is a day to celebrate a piece of real, honest-to-apple-pie American-ness: the birth of Stephen Colbert.

Yes, friends, May 13th, while not yet the national holiday truly required by such a momentous occasion, is in fact the day Mr. Stephen Tyrone Colbert first opened his eyes to the iniquities and problems of the world. Appropriately, Colbert was born in DC, the city he has mocked so enchantingly over the years.

I think you'll agree, when it comes to noteworthy Americans, Stephen Colbert is right up there. His skillful skewering, adept acrimony, and charming censure are natural treasures just as much as the shining monuments erected to honor our forefathers. So please, join me in celebrating the birth of one of the nation's most important contemporary figures. Happy Birthday, Stephen.

Whither Festivus: (Much Belated) SXSW 2009 Recap

So it's been almost two months since I wandered down to Austin and joined piles and piles of writers and scenesters and musicians in partaking in South by Southwest 2009. I've already written not one but two lengthy recaps of SXSW '09, so instead of insanely writing number three I've decided to post here the review I did for the super scrumdidlyumptious RVA magazine website relaunch last month. (Shameless self-promotion: make sure to check out RVA for yours truly, as well as the fact that it's a great mag.) And now, friends, my take on SXSW. Enjoy. Oh, and you can see the article in its entirety here, along with awesome accompanying photos shot by the wonderful Laura O'Neill.

"South by Southwest. South By. SXSW. Whichever one strikes your fancy, it’s been going on for decades now, and is pretty much the granddaddy of American music festivals. Increasingly, industry types have been flocking to Austin en masse, chomping at the bit to find the Next Big Thing, or some approximation thereof, and have themselves one hell of a good time down in the Lone Star State.

And this year, I wanted to join them.

With my bestest of friends by my side, I prepared for a week of all music, all the time. Laura and I prepped hardcore, and by the time we left Richmond we figured we had a pretty strong grasp of the situation. Flying over the flat, wide expanse of east Texas, I was pretty sure I had a good idea of what SXSW was going to offer. But like many things in life, the reality was so much different than what I’d concocted in my imagination. Luckily, the reality was even better, despite the 7 am flight and all-nighter I had to pull getting my packing taken care of [SXSW tip #1: do not wait until the last minute to pack. It is a very, very bad idea.].

As a SXSW attendee, you’re surrounded by music from the minute you step foot in the airport (literally, there are bands playing in the airport). After disembarking in Austin, I moseyed along with hundreds of festivalgoers to the baggage claim to pick up our gear. Since I had time to kill waiting for Laura’s flight to arrive, I made myself comfortable and started checking people out. Every group that glided down the escalators seemed to be full of young, be-sunglassed band members, and the industry folks who love them. I thought I recognized nearly all of them, though of course I couldn’t name but a few. One of my favorite moments of the whole week happened while in baggage claim: I finally saw a band I knew I recognized, the white-hot New Zealanders Bang! Bang! Eche!. A band I didn’t recognize saw them, too, and one of the dudes mock-squealed, and in a girly voice screeched, “Bang! Bang! Eche! Ahhhh!”. There was much giggling, and the bands shook hands. It was the first of many times I would see Bang! Bang! Eche! in Austin, and led to the game “How Many Times Will I See B! B! E! This Week?” (the answer was five or six).

After getting a taxi (far) out to our hotel [SXSW tip #2: stay downtown, or as close to downtown as you can get. We did not, and it was more often than not a huge pain in the ass.], we unwound for a bit before venturing out into the inky black Texas night for the first of many shows. New friends Your 33 Black Angels were playing a show at the venerable Austin venue TC’s Lounge, a place more authentically divey than just about anywhere I’ve ever been. The floor slants, the bathrooms don’t lock, and the building itself is so nondescript you’re likely to drive past it, what with its’ peeling boards and lack of any kind of marquee. But it’s legendary, and rightfully so. Your 33 Black Angels knocked out a great set, as did transplanted Austinites Cartright, Slick (of NYC), and TK Webb & the Visions. Much rock was heard, much beer was had [SXSW tip #3: many places do not serve PBR. In fact, several places do not know what PBR is. And the places that do carry it do not have the tallboys. Lone Star seems to be the Texas equivalent.], and much pool was played, Laura and I teaming up with some of the Cartright boys for some sloppy games (I’m pretty sure Joe and I won, but perhaps Laura and Lou would tell you differently). So convivial is the vibe in Austin during SXSW, that a complete stranger offered us puffs on his joint. But eventually, my early morning/no sleep caught up with me, and we called our personal driver (aka our Guinean cabbie) to take us home.

Day 2 began rather auspiciously, waking up with a throat so sore that I had to cringe to swallow. It’s a day I remember very little of, but what I do remember was fantastic (apart from the whole illness thing). We got up pretty early [SXSW tip #4: if your hotel offers free breakfast, as ours did, take full advantage. Stuff yogurts into your pockets. The best thing about our hotel was undoubtedly the waffle maker that made huge, fluffy waffles in the shape of the state of Texas.] and attempted to wade through the various RSVP information to plan our schedule for the day. After stopping by the Convention Center to get our wristbands, we started off at Maggie Mae’s, and saw some of Future of the Left’s raging, pulsating set before heading indoors for the much calmer, sweetly soothing sounds of Juliette Morneau. While killing time before Yelle, Laura and I stopped to get some tacos and sangria. My throat was so pained I couldn’t drink but more than a few sips of what seemed to be delicious sangria (o, the humanity), and my fever was making me miserable. My friend Joel, who stayed in one of the plushest of the downtown hotels, kindly allowed me to take sanctuary at his place for a bit, where I passed out for several sweet hours in a blissfully fluffy bed (complete with decorative throw pillow).

After sweating the fever out, Laura and I reconvened at Stubb’s, one of the biggest SXSW venues, where we caught the Outkastian romps of Janelle Monae, as well as the endearingly adorable Ladyhawke, who won me over with her shimmery, dreamy dancepop. After Ladyhawke finished up, we took a rickshaw [SXSW tip #5: rickshaws are a great idea for getting around Austin, cheaper and way more fun than taxis. And ladies, the drivers tend to be on the foxy side.] to the gargantuan Austin Music Hall, to see something I had been impatiently waiting for for weeks, the Black Angels with Roky Erickson. The Austin Music Awards were in session, and were running extremely late. The acceptance speeches were on the lengthy side, and the set we had showed up for started about an hour late, but was worth every second. You know you’re in the right place when Bobby Gillespie and Mani of Primal Scream are floating around the crowd. I began to get chills as soon as the Black Angels launched into “You On the Run,” and the goosebumps didn’t leave me until the last chords had been played. The noise was deafening, probably the loudest songs I’ve ever heard, so loud that I felt like the bass was vibrating right through me, and would at any moment literally knock me off my feet. Seeing the Black Angels is amazing enough on its own, but when you throw in the legendary Roky Erickson and a show in their home turf, well, it becomes a transcendental experience.

Day three was on the lame side, not because of the festival but because I woke up feeling a thousand times sicker than I had the day before. Playtime was limited, first at Club 1808 (a spot my taxi driver hesitantly asked whether I knew anyone there, as the ‘hood was far from the best) for Seaspin, Californians enamored with gazing at shoes. We checked them out with the War Tapes, friends and SXSW participants. And then it was time to bolt for downtown, to see one of my current favorite live bands, Dead Confederate. The boys from Athens hooked me last year, and having seen them once before I knew just how good it was gonna be. But then, they took it even further, exploding into swirling, heavy, overpowering swamp rock grit, and the entire venue seemed to heave with their every note. It was intense, and it was the perfect way to end the day of (mostly) suck.

Friday was the longest day, but probably the best overall day as well, [SXSW tip #6: see as much music as you possibly can, even if you feel like by the end of the day you will never be able to stand again.] as we took in twelve sets by eleven bands (two Glasvegas sets are better than one!), and as a bonus I no longer felt like death warmed over. We began our day at Stubb’s for the Spin party, where we started off with the brash Atlantans Black Lips, and their bratty snarlings. Überhyped Glasvegas was next, and the hotly buzzed Scots won me over with their impassioned, loud rock. Perry Farrell sauntered onto the stage to introduce Echo & the Bunnymen, who sounded ageless (even if they didn’t look it). We left the Echo set early to stake out space at Brush Square Park for the New Zealand Party [SXSW tip #7: New Zealand is the new black. No shit. With SXSW participants like Bang! Bang! Eche!, Cut Off Your Hands, and Ladyhawke, not to mention Surf City and perennial artpunk faves of mine, Die! Die! Die!, Kiwis are hot commodities.], which was probably my favorite party of the whole week. Cut Off Your Hands set the tone with their 80s-infused sound. Midnight Youth I wasn’t sold on, they were far too middle of the road (or MOR, for you abbreviation lovers) for my taste. Bang! Bang! Eche! was my favorite of the four bands, not only because I love excessive punctuation but because their set was out of control, and it was dynamite. After another excellent Ladyhawke set, it was time to hightail it over to Habana’s back porch to see a new favorite, the Love Language, straight outta Raleigh. I loved them before their set, and I am happy to report that I love them even more post-SXSW. The forced march led us next to SoCo (South Congress) to the American Apparel store. Not for shopping, but for the most unusual event I attended all week. The aforementioned War Tapes were about to do a set on the roof of the store, and despite being a bit of a dubious proposition, the band nailed it. By the end of their set they had assembled quite a little legion of admirers, deservedly so. The final journey of the night took us back downtown, to La Zona Rosa, for the tail end of the all-day Scottish Music party. We took a load off listening to the Proclaimers’ acoustic set (loved it), and then Glasvegas launched into another rollicking set, to the delight of the assembled persons. But the absolute, unquestionable, obvious high point of the night was the finale: Primal Scream. Prml Scrm. Goddam Primal Scream. It had been nine long years since my last Scream show (in Glasgow), and the band made the wait worth every single second. Sure, Kevin Shields and Throb weren’t there, but apart from that it was a sensational set. Incendiary, even. By SXSW standards it was an extremely long set, and covered every incarnation of the Scream’s sound. If I had to pick a favorite moment, it was the point in the show when I thought to myself, “How perfect would it be to hear ‘Shoot Speed/Kill Light’ at this very moment?”, and then, well, they did. Even after all these years, Primal Scream is still a live juggernaut.

We cooled our jets considerably on Saturday, the last official day of SXSW. First was Graham Coxon, doing a solo acoustic set at the Q Magazine party. I’ve been a fan of Coxon since his Blur days, and found him as endearing a personality as you could hope. Oh, and the songs were great as well. After Graham finished up, we downed our free beer and set off on a very, very, very long walk [SXSW tip #8: during the day, make sure you take a taxi or rickshaw, or hitch a ride with a band to get to a far-flung destination. It’ll save you time toweling yourself off when you get to where you’re going.]. Sure, we were sweating up a storm when we arrived at the Pretty & Nice set, but they made it worth our while. A highly recommended group of Noo Yawkers. After their set, we wised up and took a taxi down to Headhunter’s, to see one of my most highly-anticipated sets of the week: Austin’s own Ringo Deathstarr. It could end up being on of those gigs that people reference years from now, because Ringo Deathstarr is so fucking good they should be huge one of these days. If you’re into MBV and J&MC, you’ll love RD. After they were done causing my jaw to drop to the floor I immediately bought their LP. It was a little anticlimactic after RD, former flavors of the week Razorlight and the amazing PJ Harvey entertained us over at Stubb’s. And then it was time to hit the hay.

Sunday was a day spent doing touristy things. The city felt a lot less crowded, which was rather nice. We rented a car, and drove around Austin [SXSW tip #9: renting a car for a day might seem odd, but worked out really well. It allows you freedom to tool around the city at your own pace, and is a great way to handle getting to the airport when you leave town.], everywhere from the state capitol building to the UT campus (to take pics of the clock tower, naturally), to SoCo, where we ended our day cruising the plethora of killer boutiques and antique stores and occasionally running into members of Echo & the Bunnymen.

I’m no stranger to the world of festivals. I’ve been to several HFStivals. I’ve been to Coachella. I’ve been to All Tomorrow’s Parties. They were all great. But let me tell you, nothing compares to u, SXSW. It’s a force of nature, and it incurs some growing pains, but hot damn if it wasn’t one of the best weeks of my life. [SXSW tip #10: go. Just fucking go. Bands, get your asses down there. Non-bands, just do whatever you have to do to get down there. You’ll be glad you did.] Viva SXSW!"

[Photo by Megan Petty]

Video Vixens: Waterlogged Edition

My, my, my...Mother Nature sure is cranky these days, isn't she? Perhaps she and her boyfriend Father Time just broke up. Every morning I wake up with naive hopefulness and think to myself that surely, today is the day I shall see the sun shine again, and every morning I open the blinds to find a big old "fuck you" from Mama Nature looking back at me: a painfully dull gray sky and rain. Lots and lots of rain. Copious amounts of rain.

And since the infinite wisdom of the Weather Channel decrees that we here in Richmond (and probably most other locales in the Southeast/Midatlantic) have several more days of rainy goodness to look forward to (not to mention another tornado watch for this evening), I felt inspired to turn my frown upside down with some rain-themed videos for everyone's viewing pleasure. So please, friends, enjoy the following rainy day clips. And don't forget your umbrella.