I'm just a girl.



comment to be added.

I'm off in meetings with The Man this morning, contemplating selling my soul. Its not pretty, you guys.

In the mean time, the person who gets me a dl link for the new fob track and has it waiting for me when I get back earns my eternal love, gratitude, and sexual favors as you see fit.

Holla.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/monitormix/2008/09/prove_it_all_night.html

by Carrie Brownstein


I've held onto ticket stubs from any concert I saw before the age of 18. That list includes, but is not limited to: Madonna, The Church, Jane's Addiction, B-52s, Lollapalooza '92 and '93, Fine Young Cannibals, New Kids on the Block, Sonic Youth, Escape from New York Tour (with The Ramones, Blondie and Tom Tom Club) and Elvis Costello.

Why? Perhaps they're a novelty. After all, I don't buy high-priced tickets too much these days, or wait in line at Ticketmaster. I usually opt, instead, to walk up to the ticket booth the night of the show. Or maybe I keep the old tickets because they don't take up much room.

But I've let go of tour T-shirts, stickers, posters and fliers. There used to be many tangible indications that I loved a band or artist, yet most of it is long gone. There were the mix tapes containing only a single band's songs, school notebooks with lyrics writ large in the margins, and hours spent searching for rare singles and B-sides.

But what now? How evident are our musical loves? What happened to the faded LP jacket or warbly cassette tape? Both were clear indications that something was your favorite rather than merely an acquisition. Whatever your opinion of the MP3, they're never worn down by our affections and obsessions. We can't break them from overuse, or even break them in.

I suppose we could trick ourselves into thinking that we no longer care about proving the extent of our knowledge about certain bands or musicians. But just because our walls are no longer covered in posters -- and our outerwear is free of patches or buttons -- that doesn't mean we don't want people to know that fandom courses through our veins. And it's not just fandom we want to prove, but full-on expertise.

These days, we write blogs. We make our iTunes playlist public at the office. ("Dave, I didn't realize you were such a Yes fan. Every album? Wow! And what's with all the obscure Brazilian post-punk? Pray tell.") We use song names in the subject lines of emails and hope the recipient gets the reference. We make mix tapes to be played at parties, we DJ, we download songs as our cell-phone ringtones, and we name our kids after Dylan and Beatles songs. Maybe these things constitute new forms of wear, tear and overuse.

There's still something beautiful about a threadbare concert T-shirt, or about an album so worn that the needle can't find its groove. No one would ever doubt who or what was your favorite if those were the yardsticks. Today, there are more ways than ever to advertise and prove our adoration for music, but I still like a little physical evidence hanging around. After all, it's nice to know that your love has left a lasting mark on something.

So, how do we go about proving our love for a band or artist these days?

Discuss.

Oh, boys in bands. You make me so happy.

Seriously, TomRadical and his appreciative blogging from bar basements, Siska and William blogging from planes before they travel across the world, Sean Van Vleet and his beautiful face (wow), boys living their dreams, seriously living them. Seeing them happy just makes me happy.

Videos of Cobras partying (they should always party) and pics of Travie at The Gorge and pics that Suarez took on Warped and man, I can't imagine it all, seriously. I talked to a friend who follows tours and realized that I just don't fathom showing up over and over someplace where STRANGERS want to hang out with you unconditionally, they want to bring you bottles of booze and the littlest things just to make you smile. To have people write paragraphs about a 5 minute encounter, an encounter that they'll tell their grandchildren about.

I'm having a moment where I'm just blissful for all these kids (jesus, and if you've met them - they are just kids, they're all just people like everyone else) for getting the opportunities to live the way they do and to see the world.

It makes me happy that they're out doing it, that someone gets to do it.

I really, really am.

heychris handed over his radio show to elisa "don't call me cuts" while he goes on his book tour for the next 6 weeks. then... she's getting her own.

I won't lie, I always listen when she's on, but mostly because I never know what she's gonna say. Hey, wait, so maybe she won't make too bad a host, after all.

Downloaded 'Howl'?

Its FREE. If you haven't, what the hell is wrong with you?? Its a high quality album of brand! new music, complete with insert, lyrics and artwork. Stop hitting repeat on 'Pretty. Odd.' and try something fresh.

go: weareempires.com

oh, and ( you might be interested in trying a different (improved) track order )

OMG YOU GUIZE.

My deluxe Pretty. Odd. came today. Holy shit its gorgeous, absolutely. I did have to really look it over to figure out where the cd and dvd were tucked away, but omg srsly, so so elaborate and gorgrous.

I love the tshirt too! - I only wish it fit (by the time I ordered, girl's Medium was my only option).

Totally worth the wait! But now I have to go entertain one of my vendors for dinner so I can't watch the dvd. Sad day.

I have decided what I want for my birthday this year:



I want to die and be reincarnated as one of Frank Iero's cigarettes.
Holy fuck, Frankie. Smoking should not look that hot.

Nine months or so ago I wanted nothing to do with this band. Now, I'm literally squealing on the inside at the prospect of seeing them play Chicago in 3 weeks.