Sunday, December 04, 2005

Ray Davies, Supper Club, NYC, November 28, 2005

Ray Davies, Supper Club, NYC, November 28, 2005
by Jason Gross

Oh Ray... even after all these years, disappearances, failed comebacks, family and band spats, you are still the consummate entertainer when you want to be. Just like Macca and Mick, you can even put out a respectable record now but who would have thought that we'd see you do a small club show and manage to wow us all again?

Granted that you're my mom's age by now and many of the crowd looked even older than her or you, but you looked so damn youthful and sprightly- did Dick Clarke lead you to some Faustian pact to forestall aging? And yes, you did that Yo La Tengo gig not too long ago but now you actually have a new record to celebrate. And no, I can't imagine any of the '90's Brit-pop without your tunes as a cornerstone or know anyone else who's been covered by David Bowie, Van Halen, the Raincoats, the Pretenders, the Jam, Herman's Hermits, Blur, Big Star and the Fall.

And don't you know how to play us like a book? I mean, starting off with a B-side that's become a concert staple and an anthem for independence and individuality like "I'm Not Like Everybody Else"? Did you know how loudly we'd be singing along with the chorus, finding not just ourselves there but also bolstering your position as a perennial outsider in the biz? My god man, you had us by that first song.

We expected some tunes from your recent EP, "Thanksgiving Day" and you had them in there but they didn't sound bad and didn't break the momentum of the oldies much. But such an English chap like you celebrating a Yank holiday? How perverse!

And no opening act, just two hours of you, plus your new trio- a good old guitar/bass/drums line-up like your old band. And while these youngsters weren't the Kinks (though guitarist Mark Jones did shred nicely), what are the Kinks anymore or are they anymore? There would be you, your brother Dave plus... a rhythm section you put together. We know you're the lead man, the brains and such but you heard people should out for your errant sibling 'cause he's the heart of the band.

But no matter 'cause you know how to bring a house down yourself. You could have just run through the hits that the radio keeps spewing out but after the opener, you kept stepping up with these wonderful little gifts to us real, old fans like a... set of songs all from the "Village Green" album! Yes, we did want to hear "Picture Book" and not just because of the recent commercial but the nice readings of "Johnny Thunder" (who you called your hero) and the touching "Animal Farm" more than made up for it. Or chestnuts from the very cult album "Muswell Hillbillies" like "20th Century Man" and "Oklahoma USA." And wasn't it lovely to hear you dig up other little favorites like "Dead End Street" (a natural sing-a-long) and "Tired of Waiting For You" (one of your most beautiful songs)?

And how you teased us with "You Really Got Me," telling stories about the song (how a record exec thought Dave's guitar sounded like a barking dog) and then doing a lounge version before roaring into the real thing... And leaving "Lola" for the inevitable encore where you know that all of us were going to shout along with you... Or how you stopped to let us all sing the verses to "Sunny Afternoon"... Or how you waited to the end to unfurl your most heart-warming tunes like "Days" and "Waterloo Sunset"... Or the Harry Belafonte "Banana Boat" call-and-response you had us do on "All Day and All of the Night"... And yes, you knew how to get our sympathy with a touching observation about the biz: "(We) couldn't get a deal in the beginning... (it's the) same now!"

But ending off with "Low Budget"? Yeah, that was your late '70's comeback and it's always good to tie it to hard times but it ain't up to your other classics or even some of your new tunes. But all's forgiven- you nicked us for sixty-five bucks and we got every penny's worth out of you for it. And right back at ya- we thank for the days...

Sunday, September 25, 2005

All the Pretty Horses/ September 23, 2005/ The Uptown Bar/ Minneapolis, MN

(I just got back from seeing Earth, Gang Gang Dance and Pita at the Empty Bottle here in Chicago. It was kinda boring. I kinda wish I'd seen this band instead-- Amy)

Reviewed by Pat Feghali

There are bands that are meant to be listened to. And then there are bands that are meant to be seen. Often this is because they have amazing stage shows. It can also be because they are hot. Sometimes, very rarely, these things come together to form what may be called the perfect live band. Minneapolis group All the Pretty Horses might just be one of those bands.

The group is fronted by the magnetic and fabulously attractive singer and guitarist Venus, who looks like an Amazon and sounds like an American David Bowie. What else could you ask for? Add to that smoke machines, strobe lights, an amazing drummer and bass player, and two hot dancers, and you’ve got something. I’m not really sure what it is. But it sure as hell is amazing.

Not to gush or anything, but ATPH are the best live band I’ve seen in a long time. They have a self-described “dark glam” sound, and they just won a Minnesota Music award for best hard rock band. Like you might guess, their sound is somewhere between metal, ‘70s glam, and good old shit-kicking rock. And yet, despite Venus’s great voice, I don’t really feel the need to get a CD. No, it’s not because I plan to steal the music online, but because I’d much rather watch them, or at least look at them.

It’s not every day that you (well, I) get to watch five women (or at least five people with breasts) make hard rock music. It’s also not every day that you (or I) get to watch five people with breasts, two of whom are not actually playing music but are just there to dance and add to the general atmosphere, wear thigh-high boots and ripped fishnets and be totally into the performance they are giving. It’s not every day that I get to be around straight boys who are totally in love with the girl on stage who just happened to be born a boy. And since the band is going on hiatus in January when drummer extraordinaire Jen Deen joins some sort of theater production, the chance to witness such things will become even less frequent. But, don’t worry, there’s good news. I have it on good authority that the DVD Venus of Mars , about Venus’s life as a transgender rock star, is highly enjoyable, if a little hard to find.

It’s good to know that somewhere, somehow, there are still bands that are using rock and roll as a way to fuck with the way that people think. It’s good to know that there is still a place, among all the weepy emo kids and the tie-wearing brit pop boys, for people who can just say “this is who I am and I don’t care if you can’t handle it.” Venus is one of those people. And, just between us, she is my new personal hero. Maybe next time I see them I’ll be brave enough to talk to her.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Death Cab For Cutie, The Decemberists, Stars / August 18, 2005 / Central Park Summerstage

It’s official: I am an indie-yuppie. Last week, I bought a dining room table and matching chairs at Ikea. I also received my first paycheck from my first steady job. I have business cards, my own desk, my own set of office keys, even interns. I have a deck and a back yard. I have a bathtub with Jacuzzi jets in it. There is a copy of Paste magazine in my living room. Guess who’s on the cover? Death Cab for Cutie.

As I wrote in the Voice a little while ago, this concert in Central Park last Thursday, for a girl like me, was the equivalent of the Backstreet Boys and ‘NSYNC doing a show together in 1998. Total teenage hormone rage-a-thon as my two favorite cuddly lovesick doughboys sang their pretty little songs just for me (and all the other I-Ys eating $5 veggie burgers.) The weather was PERFECT—not too hot, clear skies, slight breeze, sun setting behind the skyscrapers. The VIP area was far from crowded, offering ideal side-stage viewing. I stood next to Lyor Cohen, close enough to steal his Blackberry. He didn’t look pleased—perhaps he doesn’t smell a hit from his latest acquisition?

The new Death Cab album could go either way, in my opinion. “Different Names for the Same Thing” or “Crooked Teeth” could be smashes if publicized with gusto, or the record could become “lifestyle” music like Coldplay or Norah Jones. Or nobody cares and Death Cab will go limping back to Barsuk. Maybe it all depends on the next season of The O.C. (September 8! Can’t wait!) They didn’t play very many Plans songs last night, not even the two I really wanted to hear (“Different Names” and “Marching Bands of Manhattan”—how could they NOT play that one in this setting? Huh?) They did do “Soul Meets Body,” a pretty lousy choice for a first single if you ask me, but I guess they’re going for that adult-contemporary moohla right now.

Ben Gibbard has packed on quite a bit of weight and has a terrible haircut (or “non-haircut” as Ryan put it), which certainly hampers his heartthrobitude. But I’m always happy to see doughy boys and girls succeed—fuck 50 Cent body fascism! Yay Magic Numbers! The equally doughy bass player has had an equally terrible haircut for as long as I’ve been following the band, and I’ve really got to hand it to the guy for his persistence. At certain points during the set, his hair would start sticking up in strange places, making him look even more awkward. He was also wearing a mysterious black, rectangular object attached to his belt, which may or may not have been a cell phone or beeper. I’ve often wondered this: why do musicians wear their cell phones on stage? Are you really going to take a call while you’re performing?

Stars were eh. I like them, especially because they have a cute, voluptuous girl named Amy in the band. But I’ve never been particularly impressed with their live act.

The Decemberists were great, duh, playing “Odalisque,” which I’ve never heard live before. They didn’t do “Chimbley Sweep” and its attendant get-the-crowd-crouching-on-the-floor move, but they did “Mariner’s Revenge,” of course, and the audience was definitely feeling the scream-like-you’re-being-swallowed-by-a-whale part. At the end, Colin mounted the drummer’s back and rode him while playing a guitar solo. Way to fuck with those rawk masculinity tropes, guys.

For Death Cab’s encore, they brought out all of the Decemberists for a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way.” Colin and Ben traded verses and everybody shouted the chorus and things got quite rollicking. But you probably already read about that on some other blog already.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Antony and the Johnsons/ Town Hall/July 28, 2005

caryn: Why, Amy Phillips, are people questioning the fate of this spazzy site? Tell the people.
amy: because us girls have gone and got ourselves jobby-jobs
caryn: True that. Amy, you are moving on Monday to Chicago to become the news editor at Pitchfork. Is that accurate?
amy: indeed it is. and you can fact-check that!
amy: and caryn, you are staying right here in nyc, and you have already become arts and entertainment editor at the associated motherfuckin press???
caryn: Yes, it also proven that I have been hired by that venerable newsgathering organization to be the arts and entertainment editor of a new line of content aimed at the kids.
amy: damn
amy: we run this writing game!
caryn: I am now The Man and you are now Da Boy.
amy: but we are both competing for the kiddies' attention
caryn: I wanted to auction off MITM to the lad or lassie who wrote us the best letter convincing us that they would care for our baby. I wanted to go out with a bang. But you boged. Why?
amy: because i'm not sure i want to sell this baby to the black market just yet.
amy: i might want to keep it alive, if only via a feeding tube and IV
caryn: Do you really think that you'll post from Chicago?
amy: yes, i really do think
amy: we can both see the same band play and then compare notes on their shows in the different cities!
caryn: It's possible that we could change the format of the blog and make it just our musical ramblings rather than show reviews. But then it will be like so many other blogs. Perhaps we could make it about the various songs we sing to ourselves in the shower.
amy: pearl jam's "alive" all the way, baby
amy: but i still love writing about live music
amy: and i probably won't get much of a chance to do that as news bitch
caryn: Ok, so MITM is *not* dead. Just in a coma for a while. So people shouldn't delink us?
amy: most definitely not!
amy: they should also check the pitchfork news section every day. and, uh, their local paper?
caryn: Actually, the AP project will also consist of a hosted web site, so I will link to it when it goes live. Wow, I feel like it's 1999 when I write "go live."
amy: of course, it will never be as "live" as more in the monitor
caryn: But, it's safe to say that people will not get a C+A IM live review such as the one that we're about to offer for a long, long, loooong time. Correct?
amy: correct-- unless we end up at the same CMJ shows, which could happen
caryn: And isn't it appropriate that this review is of a show filled with the wan longing of a schoolboy who forgot his lunchpail, yes?
amy: indeed it is
amy: i'd say the wan longing was a bit more intense than that though
amy: more like that of a desert missing the rain
caryn: hahahahahah.
caryn: We're speaking, of course, of Antony and the Johnsons LIVE at town hall last night.
amy: i personally was shocked, shocked! at how FUNNY antony was. were you?
caryn: No. Tragedy + comedy = DRAMA.
amy: yea, verily. last night was all about drama
amy: girls dressing up as boys, boys dressing up as girls
caryn: What kind of schmata was he wearing? Huh? It was like something on special at Lane Bryant (not that there's anything wrong with that...)
amy: maybe it was a lane bryant special in a former life, but it had been thoroughly mutilated.
caryn: The underneath stuff was Lane Bryant, the over wrap was David Bowie.
amy: i dunno, i was feeling more of a stevie nicks vibe from it
amy: (for those playing along at home, it was a gauzy, ripped-up black shawl)
caryn: Yeah, that too.
caryn: Is that his real hair or a wig?
amy: i was going to ask you that!
amy: it looked like a wig
caryn: From our vantage point behind his head, it was clear that a random chunk was just missing from the back. I think it was a wig.
amy: he looks a lot like robert smith
caryn: Same shoulders!
amy: his movements at the piano reminded me a lot of stevie wonder
amy: stevie wonder meets a seal wiggling across an iceberg
caryn: Someone at work asked if he speaks in falsetto (or, to mine a Pavement song: What about the voice of Antony? How did it get so high? I wonder if he speaks like an ordinary guy?)
amy: he does speak like an ordinary guy
caryn: I would say he speaks like an ordinary guy...sort of.
amy: that was kind of disconcerting, actually
amy: i was expecting his speaking voice to be more... flowery
caryn: Is it even possible to describe his singing voice? When you find the right words, perhaps then you must die from the effort. Let's describe his voice using only food as descriptors.
caryn: Butterscotch.
amy: black forest cake
caryn: anise.
amy: what's that?
caryn: a licorice-like spice.
amy: i learned something new today
caryn: truffle oil.
caryn: And truffles.
amy: you know what? his body language is kind of like a pig nudging its snout through the forest looking for truffles
caryn: ganache
amy: what's ganache? pardon my food ignorance
caryn: a rich mixture of chocolate and cream often used on cakes. Now that we both have jobs, we should go out to eat more and I can school you. Oh yeah, you're moving AWAY on monday.
amy: yeah, i'm going to have to find someone new to be my restaurant top!
caryn: Charoset.
amy: hahaha
amy: good one
amy: so i guess we could conclude that antony's voice is rich, decadent, expensive, slightly sickening?
caryn: yeah, that about does it. Seemed like the place was sold out. Or at least very full.
amy: yeah, i was surprised. i didn't know antony had that many fans
caryn: What did you think of the whistle routine?
amy: i loved it. but i think there was some recorded whistling being piped in.
caryn: I think the whistling was piped in, too.
amy: same with the humming
caryn: yeah.
amy: i was also surprised that there weren't any special guests!
caryn: I think Lou Reed was in the house although I didn't see him; when A played that Lou Reed song he made a dedication that seemed to be to be him.
caryn: What was your favorite song?
amy: for today i am a boy
amy: that's my favorite song on the record, too
amy: you?
caryn: I liked when he sang about being a cavewoman. he really looks like a cavewoman.
amy: oh yeah, he definitely does. and the bassist looks like a caveman.
caryn: What song would you most want Antony to cover?
caryn: I am voting for Girlfriend in a Coma.
amy: hmm. something by pj harvey
amy: i want him to do "oh my lover"
amy: gf in a coma would be cool too
caryn: Hmmm, both intriguing choices.
caryn: Anything else you'd like to say about the show before we sign off?
amy: those cocorosie girls are hot stuff
caryn: As I stated whilst watching them, if they were my age, when we were their age, they totally would have been Deadheads. I am so pleased to see how the culture has moved forward.
amy: and i said, i think they ARE deadheads. the one girl had a big silver pot leaf necklace!
caryn: But she was wearing a Tupac t-shirt.
amy: what, deadheads can't like tupac?
amy: you should see the outfits they're wearing in the album art
amy: tie-dye fantasia
caryn: the deadheads of my era literally only listened to the dead. and maybe Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. It was pathetic.
amy: well i guess culture has moved forward then
caryn: Amy, as I prepare to sign off, let me say this so that it may be put into public record: you are the sister that I've never had and your brain pleases me to no end. I will miss you.
amy: aww shucks caryn. i will miss you too, and you are also the sister i never had.
amy: but i have the feeling that our paths will cross again.
caryn: Cue Green Day's "Time of Your Life." Fade out.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Lady Sovereign / Knitting Factory / July 14, 2005

Before she went all family-friendly (bootleg porno aside), Eve used to call herself a “pitbull in a skirt.” Lady Sovereign don’t wear no fookin skirts (or at least I can’t picture her in one), but my god, is she ever a pitbull. She’s tiny, cute and FIERCE. This girl could kick my ass in her sleep. Then I’d thank her and ask for another beatdown, because that is how much I am in love with her right now.

This was basically the M.I.A. Knit show all over again (massive blogga/writa posse, endless Catchdubs DJ set while we got all sweaty waiting, technical difficulties, truncated set), except Louise has more stage presence in her eyebrows than Maya has in her whole body. As Jessica wrote, in a much more brilliant take on her Chicago show than I could ever write about this one, here is a girl who’s spent her whole life as one of the guys, so she knows how to be ON even when she isn’t feeling it (lord knows I can relate). And boy was she not feeling it tonight. Jazzbo says that she was so sick/hungover this afternoon that she totally fucked up an MTV interview. On stage, she held her stomach, blamed McDonald’s, and kept threatening to vomit on the first row, in between apologies for “not jumping around and stuff.”

I’m sure conventional wisdom will say that this show was terrible because she was sick and her CD player kept skipping and she kept apologizing. I loved every second of it.

She wore a Sex Pistols t-shirt and pants so baggy they were literally falling off her ass, so she spent a good amount of her set with one hand grabbing the crotch. She had her hair in that trademark side ponytail which I hope starts a trend, because I would really like to start rocking that look and not get laughed at. She also had her keys on a chain around her neck. That is hardcore. By the way, photos like this are quite deceiving. Lady Sov is not glamorous or passive. She has crooked teeth and furry eyebrows and freckles and she will fuck you up, especially if you are Jentina or her friend who gave her a fat lip.

Her face is rubbery and naturally comedic like Jim Carrey’s. She could just roll her eyes or purse her lips and I would start laughing. Her voice is also rubbery and comedic—when she starts talking to herself I, like, die. She did a song that was a total Oi! Punk rager. She did “Random” and “Ch-Ching.” She freestyled over “Hollaback Girl.” It was awesome.

If you haven’t heard her new single “9 to 5”, go download it at Lemon-Red RIGHT FUCKING NOW. I hate to say this but it might just be better than the Dolly Parton song. Which is really saying something.

FYI: I’m headed to my soon-to-be home for my soon-to-be employer’s fantabulous rock-a-thon this weekend. Expect mad gossip, like what Colin Meloy smells like, when I get back.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Harry and the Potters / Donnell Center, New York Public Library / July 7, 2005

Sometimes I believe in God. Like when God says, “You know what Amy really needs in her life right now? A concert by a Harry Potter tribute band that takes place in the basement auditorium of the New York Public Library on 53rd street.” Wow, God. You were so right. I did need that.

Harry and the Potters are two brothers from Boston who look/dress/act like what would happen if Harry accepted Calvin Johnson as his Lord and Savior. Their music is K Records love punk circa 1993: sloppy Farfisa; drum machine; garage fuzz guitar; simple, straightforward, silly lyrics. Sample songs: “Voldemort Can’t Stop the Rock” (“this song is about standing up to The Man!”), “Wizard Chess,” “Save Ginny Weasley.”

The place was packed. The audience was half parents with young children and half teenage/twentysomething indie kids (mostly female). Many girls sported homemade HP t-shirts. Punk fucking rock. Everyone was giddy. I haven’t heard that much squealing since R. Kelly walked onstage at the Best of Both Worlds tour.

The Harrys were total pros. They lead sing-alongs. They climbed through the audience on the backs of chairs. They told perfectly timed jokes. (“This is a song about how I’m angry because I’m a teenager, and teenagers are always angry, and stuff keeps happening like my dead parents show up as ghosts in a cemetery in Bulgaria.”) They executed precisely synchronized windmills. They knew exactly when to collapse on the floor in mock passion/terror/overwhelming rockingness.

I have a massive friend-crush on these boys. I want to ride in their tour van (broom?) and discuss the intricacies of teen male psychology as it relates to Harry’s relationship with Cho Chang. I want them to read The Half-Blood Prince out loud to me next weekend. I want to geek out on Springsteen with Harry Year 7. I want to watch them rock libraries all over the world.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Annie / Hiro Ballroom / June 28, 2005

amy: well, that sucked

caryn: Oh, Annie, Annie, Annie. Look what you've done for us.

amy: so where were you standing the whole time?

caryn: I was sitting in the reserved section. From now on, anytime I see a reserved sign anywhere I will simply sit there regardless of whether it is indeed reserved for me or not.

amy: could you see the guide vocals thing she had going on?

caryn: No, describe. I could tell there was some, uh, help.

amy: well, about halfway through, i noticed that she had something clipped onto her pants that looked like a cell phone

caryn: Uh huh.

amy: and i was like "well, that can't be a monitor for a cordless mic, because she's not using one"

caryn: Hmmmm

amy: so i asked daphne and she was like "that must be for guide vocals"

caryn: How would that work?

amy: and then, sure enough, you could see that there was a white wire going into her ear

amy: i don't know how it works exactly

caryn: Well, she was singing. Badly, I might add. During Me Plus One she was literally croaking.

amy: i think it was piping in vocals for her to sing along to

amy: the absolute worst part was during the verse in heartbeat thought

amy: she sang completely off-key

amy: and then she just skipped the second verse

caryn: Here's my take: harmless, bland, slightly bouncey, forgettable.

amy: do you like the record?

caryn: She's the anti-MIA. MIA's lyrics, her phrasing, her topics, her music are all so interesting and takes pop forward. Annie is just lite.

amy: wait, you DON’T like the record?

amy: annie's liteness is what's so great about her

amy: not everybody has to take music "forward"

caryn: It's fine. There's some decent tracks. It's just not that interesting to me. Liteness can be done really well. I'm thinking Olivia Newton John or ABBA. I just don't think Annie's all that.

amy: ah, ok. well i am in love with the record. she just sucked all the life out of it live

amy: she was so STIFF

caryn: So your main complaint is her performance then? What do you like about the record so much?

amy: i find it catchy and addicting in a way that i can listen to over and over again

caryn: A few of the songs are sticky for me, but not outrageously so.

amy: a lot of the songs are quite off-kilter and can be really burrowed into and dissected, but i love it like i love kylie or madonna

amy: like heartbeat is really weird if you think about it-- the way it starts so unexpectedly, that weird drop in the melody in the chorus

amy: (she managed to hit that note somehow)

caryn: There's more going on with those two, I think. And, I just think this year MIA has set the bar so high for pop that in comparison, Annie's just eh.

amy: i don't think you can compare them at all. how do you think she compares to kylie or madonna?

amy: i think m.i.a.'s closest comparison is missy elliott

caryn: Why not compare them? Are we comparing shade of skin or genre of music? This is pop!

caryn: And don't forget, Annie, uh, raps during Me Plus One.

amy: well why not compare them to nirvana or avril lavigne or 50 cent?

amy: i guess she sort of talks on that song

caryn: I will: all three of those artists are far more compelling than Annie. I used MIA because they are two break out artists in pop at the same time.

amy: what do you mean by "compelling"?

caryn: The music grabs me. The artists' steelo grabs me. They have carved out something new (at the time), exciting, signature and unforgetable.

amy: well, i don't think any of them were doing anything new. as for the other stuff, i find annie to be all those things.

caryn: Well, we'll have to agree to disagree I guess.

amy: ok

amy: now back to how bad that show was

caryn: But just know this: you're wrong.

amy: dude, pitchfork number one song of the year! of course i'm right!

caryn: Oh, so whatever Pitchfork says I have to swallow. They've really inserted that chip into you, huh?

amy: yup. speaking of which – I am so in love with the arcade fire right now.

amy: i forgot how much i love them until the dj before annie played them. now I am listening to the album again.

caryn: Fuck YEAH! It was the one time all night that I really, really wanted to dance!

amy: that proves how bad she was-- i left wanting to hear the music played BEFORE the show!

caryn: Ok, the show. So who's that guy who does her music? He kinda looks like a rockabilly Nordic hispter.

amy: i dunno, some producer guy. he worked on the album with her. he may or may not be her boyfriend

caryn: He had one of those faces that is clearly not American.

amy: i think the best part of the show was when he did the robot voice on "chewing gum"

caryn: Yeah. It was a bit mangled, which made it better.

amy: the mix was terrible. her vocals were really low. probably for good reason.

caryn: That room, the Hiro, is quite nice. A calming setting with Asian overtones and Bright Lights, Big City crackheads jumping up and down in the booths.

amy: oh i remember reading some guy talking about how it was racist

amy: let me find that

amy: “We enter Hiro, and we get it. Asian themed. The stage is a horrible wooden facade, with a dragon spewing smoke from its eyes and mouth. Stereotypes abound. Innumberable paper lanterns. Nonsense Japanese script on the walls. Stereotypes abound. Red walls and faux-bamboo mezzanine. Stereotypes abound, albeit confused ones.”

caryn: I have a friend who is an asian activist and if she ever saw anyone dressed up in asian-wear during Haloween or whatever, she would go up to them and shout, "Someone else's culture is not your costume." I amused myself tonight by wondering if the characters on the walls actually could be translated into things such as, "Die Yuppie Scum" or "I'm with Dickhead."

amy: haha maybe. that would be amazing.

amy: also-- what was that thing she was hitting that made the mwah mwah sounds

caryn: Right, if was like an electric cowbells that she hit ever lackadasically and without much rthym.

amy: it was pretty silly

amy: oh and her shirt! good god that was awful

amy: it was half truckstop ho half my grandma

caryn: Now Amy, everyone can't have a cute Decemberists ringer tee like you. Leave the poor Nordic girl alone.

amy: yeah but you figure she'd have a stylist or something to be like "whoa... you are going out in public in that thing?"

caryn: That's what my mom says to me all the time!

amy: haha yeah that happened to me a lot in high school

caryn: On that note...

amy: in the words of that other annie, instead of treated we got tricked