Oh, what a ridiculous week it's been...
Perhaps Mayday Parade sums it up best: "I'm never going back to Georgia; not at least till I have to..."
More and more things are piling up lately to make me NOT want to go back to Atlanta-- it's so funny how these things go with me; when I left Emory I was so sad to go, now it's time to go back and I just don't want to. I didn't want to leave Emory fifteen months ago because I knew that when I came back (whenever that was) it would be completely different. Now I am making plans to go back, it's getting more and more real, and I have no desire to go back-- it feels like I graduated high school, went through my entire freshman year at Emory, and then was told I have to move back home and go back to one more year of high school. It's a closed book in my head now, mostly because in France all my friends were twenty-somethings who were done with school and now, in California, all my friends are people my age who didn't go to school in order to work in music.
So I don't want to leave California; I'm doing right now what I want to do for the rest of my life-- why should I abandon it, even if it is "only" for nine months? And equally I don't want to go back to Georgia. Everything's different now; people are dating, engaged, that were single when I left. Over half of my friends graduated in May, some of them stayed in Atlanta, including the one I'll be living with, but they're not going to be on campus anymore. And then there's my schedule-- stupid French classes that are stupid now because what am I gonna learn from 130 minutes a week in a classroom that I DIDN'T learn in a year living in the country? Three PE classes (some things never change-- I hated PE as a kid; put off Health in high school until senior year; have managed to take NO PE classes as a college student yet. If only they counted all those hikes from last summer...); a lab science; blah blah blah...
Things I don't want to go back to; situations I don't want to face; and a job and a lifestyle here that I DON'T want to (or have to) leave.
Oh, calm down, I'm going back to school. Mostly only because I already have the coolest roommate ever planned and I can't let her down this late in the game.
In other news, all the other interns finished this week, making me the only one left. Who suddenly gets told things like this, by the same guy that nicknamed me Normaltern:
"Blair, I like you because you eat like a dude."
"Uhh, what?" I ask, swallowing a bite of burrito from the Mexican place across the street from work.
"Yeah, you eat like a dude, and I think that's awesome. I hate when girls are only about salad and... and... yogurt."
I squinted my eyes at him, trying to decide how to respond. He's probably the only person in the world that could say that to me and I would take it as a compliment.
Maybe, to put it in the words of my favorite Western 90's rockers, "I'm never going back to college, I'll just work my day job..."
~Normaltern.
P.S. I recently learned that the English translation for "rie de veau" is sweetbreads, meaning I have eaten veal pancreas on multiple occasions while in France, and I had no idea. Wow.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Here's a rant for you...
When I was younger, I used to make mental notes of things I would never do to my children; usually things my parents had the indecency to do to me. Usually I told them about the additions to my list, and they would say "Oh just wait until you get older and you'll do that to your kids all the time."
The truth is that I don't remember many of the things that I put on the list, but I do remember the main one was that I would never, EVER tell my children that "life's not fair." And I am proud to say that in a year of nannying, two summers of camp staffing, and a decade (can you believe it-- A DECADE) of babysitting, I have listened to more whines of "BUT THAT'S NOT FAAAAAAAAIR!" than I can count, and I have never, EVER countered with "Life's not fair, it's time you learned that."
Now that I don't live with my parents anymore, I find myself instead making lists of things I will never do to "my" interns. I am sure that at some point I will work somewhere where there will be interns under me-- in music, that's just how things work. As far as internships go, mine has been astoundingly wonderful. I have nothing bad to say about Immortal, it's been lots of fun, I've learned more than I thought possible, and scored more free schwag than any 21-year-old ought to be allowed to have.
But occasionally something ridiculous happens and I add another bullet to the list of things I don't want to do to my future interns. (#1 on the list? I will never ignore the interns until I have a task I don't want to do, then go introduce myself to them and make them do it. Especially five minutes before they need to go, when the project is going to take an hour and a half.)
This week has been madness, though... Starting last week, I was taught how to post things UPS to help out the accounts woman that does all the mail. BUT I am NOT the mail girl. So the woman from Accounts Payable, who taught me how to do the mail, told me I can't post anything without her approval. Weird rule, but ok. BUT the problem comes because I am constantly asked by MY boss to mail things, and then she DOESN'T give approval. "Just wait," she says, "I have to make sure [with her boss] that it's ok to send out." But stop and think about this-- I need to send out PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL FOR OUR BANDS. That's what record labels do; since when do we need APPROVAL to do it? So today when my boss walked through the mailroom and saw 23 envelopes he asked me to mail on THURSDAY still sitting in the mailroom, he came to me upset that they hadn't been mailed yet. (Legitimately so; he asked me to do it four days ago! I've never not done something he asked me to do immediately, so I think he was mostly confused, but he was definitely upset.) I've been asking Accounts Payable every day if I could mail them out yet (despite the fact that I HATE UPSing things), and she keeps telling me I can't. And he keeps telling me to do it anyway. Usually I would do whatever he says, since he is the coolest guy I have ever met in my life. But the problem is this: My boss thinks he is higher on the totem pole than the Accounts Payable woman. But the woman in Accounts Payable thinks that because she is the assistant to someone higher than MY boss, that she is higher on the totem pole. And my boss (rightly, I would say) thinks that because he is nobody's assistant and has his own position, that HE is higher. And it gets worse: they started at Immortal the same week, so they can't even claim seniority over each other.
And then there's Normaltern (my work nickname, acquired my first week on the job), stuck in the middle and trying not to get in trouble with anyone.
Grrrrr.
Tammy Faye died??? How does no one tell me these things?? And here's a [terribly irreverent] question: Who is gonna keep Max Factor in business now??? Also, do you think she honestly believed her eye makeup was attractive? Didn't she notice that the first thing anyone ever said about her was "the one with the clumpy mascara"? And honestly, I've reapplied mascara over old mascara and it NEVER looks like that-- how DO you think she did it?
Love, love, love, love, love, love,
B
P.S. I think there is a significant dearth of band members with very slight lisps.
The truth is that I don't remember many of the things that I put on the list, but I do remember the main one was that I would never, EVER tell my children that "life's not fair." And I am proud to say that in a year of nannying, two summers of camp staffing, and a decade (can you believe it-- A DECADE) of babysitting, I have listened to more whines of "BUT THAT'S NOT FAAAAAAAAIR!" than I can count, and I have never, EVER countered with "Life's not fair, it's time you learned that."
Now that I don't live with my parents anymore, I find myself instead making lists of things I will never do to "my" interns. I am sure that at some point I will work somewhere where there will be interns under me-- in music, that's just how things work. As far as internships go, mine has been astoundingly wonderful. I have nothing bad to say about Immortal, it's been lots of fun, I've learned more than I thought possible, and scored more free schwag than any 21-year-old ought to be allowed to have.
But occasionally something ridiculous happens and I add another bullet to the list of things I don't want to do to my future interns. (#1 on the list? I will never ignore the interns until I have a task I don't want to do, then go introduce myself to them and make them do it. Especially five minutes before they need to go, when the project is going to take an hour and a half.)
This week has been madness, though... Starting last week, I was taught how to post things UPS to help out the accounts woman that does all the mail. BUT I am NOT the mail girl. So the woman from Accounts Payable, who taught me how to do the mail, told me I can't post anything without her approval. Weird rule, but ok. BUT the problem comes because I am constantly asked by MY boss to mail things, and then she DOESN'T give approval. "Just wait," she says, "I have to make sure [with her boss] that it's ok to send out." But stop and think about this-- I need to send out PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL FOR OUR BANDS. That's what record labels do; since when do we need APPROVAL to do it? So today when my boss walked through the mailroom and saw 23 envelopes he asked me to mail on THURSDAY still sitting in the mailroom, he came to me upset that they hadn't been mailed yet. (Legitimately so; he asked me to do it four days ago! I've never not done something he asked me to do immediately, so I think he was mostly confused, but he was definitely upset.) I've been asking Accounts Payable every day if I could mail them out yet (despite the fact that I HATE UPSing things), and she keeps telling me I can't. And he keeps telling me to do it anyway. Usually I would do whatever he says, since he is the coolest guy I have ever met in my life. But the problem is this: My boss thinks he is higher on the totem pole than the Accounts Payable woman. But the woman in Accounts Payable thinks that because she is the assistant to someone higher than MY boss, that she is higher on the totem pole. And my boss (rightly, I would say) thinks that because he is nobody's assistant and has his own position, that HE is higher. And it gets worse: they started at Immortal the same week, so they can't even claim seniority over each other.
And then there's Normaltern (my work nickname, acquired my first week on the job), stuck in the middle and trying not to get in trouble with anyone.
Grrrrr.
Tammy Faye died??? How does no one tell me these things?? And here's a [terribly irreverent] question: Who is gonna keep Max Factor in business now??? Also, do you think she honestly believed her eye makeup was attractive? Didn't she notice that the first thing anyone ever said about her was "the one with the clumpy mascara"? And honestly, I've reapplied mascara over old mascara and it NEVER looks like that-- how DO you think she did it?
Love, love, love, love, love, love,
B
P.S. I think there is a significant dearth of band members with very slight lisps.
Monday, July 23, 2007
N.E.R.D.
Quote of the week:
"I like to say your name every time I talk to you, Blair, because when I say it fast it sounds like 'player,' which would be the coolest name ever."
~A pretty awesome music video director I work with.
Evidence that I am, actually, quite lame:
I'm not sure which of these is worst; I'll leave it up to you to rank the following:
1. I want to see Rush Hour 3 because it is set in Paris.
2. Yesterday I was on the bus to work, and I pulled the string for my stop, but when the lady stopped the bus, I wasn't at the door yet. She pulled to the side of the street and stopped for a split second, but she didn't open the door. "Wait wait wait," I croaked, but I have caught glandular fever or something and the lady didn't hear me (despite the fact that I was right next to her), so she kept driving and I ended up half an mile away from work before she stopped again.
3. Today I was working reception at the label. Some random guy walked in to take a tour of the building. "Hi," I croaked, looking up (and up and up) at him. "Hello," he smiled warmly, looking around the entryway. A few minutes later, the building owner walked in to give the guy a tour, and I forgot all about his presence. Until 15 minutes later, when the second-in-command at the label walked through reception, slightly breathless. "Can you BELIEVE this?" she gushed (this woman is old enough to be my mother). "What?" I asked, still clueless. "We go days and days with no one exciting coming to work and then MAGIC JOHNSON comes in to take a tour? I can't even believe this!"
Oh yeah. I talked to Magic Johnson. He was chilling in my office, the entire Immortal staff was FREAKING out, and I behaved like the only non-starstruck one only because I had no idea who he was.
But then I started thinking about it after he left, and I can only think of TWO American athletes I could identify by face-- Michael Jordan and Dennis Rodman.
But if any guy from any of the seventy-three bands on this summer's Warped Tour walked into a club where I happened to be, I could pick them out from across a crowded dance floor.
Call me L.A.M.E.,
Blay-errrr
"I like to say your name every time I talk to you, Blair, because when I say it fast it sounds like 'player,' which would be the coolest name ever."
~A pretty awesome music video director I work with.
Evidence that I am, actually, quite lame:
I'm not sure which of these is worst; I'll leave it up to you to rank the following:
1. I want to see Rush Hour 3 because it is set in Paris.
2. Yesterday I was on the bus to work, and I pulled the string for my stop, but when the lady stopped the bus, I wasn't at the door yet. She pulled to the side of the street and stopped for a split second, but she didn't open the door. "Wait wait wait," I croaked, but I have caught glandular fever or something and the lady didn't hear me (despite the fact that I was right next to her), so she kept driving and I ended up half an mile away from work before she stopped again.
3. Today I was working reception at the label. Some random guy walked in to take a tour of the building. "Hi," I croaked, looking up (and up and up) at him. "Hello," he smiled warmly, looking around the entryway. A few minutes later, the building owner walked in to give the guy a tour, and I forgot all about his presence. Until 15 minutes later, when the second-in-command at the label walked through reception, slightly breathless. "Can you BELIEVE this?" she gushed (this woman is old enough to be my mother). "What?" I asked, still clueless. "We go days and days with no one exciting coming to work and then MAGIC JOHNSON comes in to take a tour? I can't even believe this!"
Oh yeah. I talked to Magic Johnson. He was chilling in my office, the entire Immortal staff was FREAKING out, and I behaved like the only non-starstruck one only because I had no idea who he was.
But then I started thinking about it after he left, and I can only think of TWO American athletes I could identify by face-- Michael Jordan and Dennis Rodman.
But if any guy from any of the seventy-three bands on this summer's Warped Tour walked into a club where I happened to be, I could pick them out from across a crowded dance floor.
Call me L.A.M.E.,
Blay-errrr
Friday, July 20, 2007
Free Concerts! Summer Sickness! Lost Voice!
"Heaven forbid you end up alone, and don't know why..."
~The Fray
Note to all aspiring acoustic-y indie bands: if you don't want a career in music, and just want a diversion for a couple years and then millions of dollars to play with for the rest of your life, hire The Fray's manager. They've been touring for two years on the same album, have re-released three different versions of the same album, and scored at least three radio hits. They're about to take a year off to record a new album, but my (amateur) prediction is that they will hit major sophomore slump-- who wouldn't after success that quick?
That said, I still have always had a soft spot for them.
Wednesday I went to work feeling vaguely sick. I had to work late (till 7), but at 645, I got a text from a friend with an extra ticket to see The Fray-- in an hour. I'm 21, I said yes. Mainly because The Fray is one of those bands that I've liked since before anyone had heard of them, but now they are so famous I would never spend $40 to see a band that has gone mainstream anyway. The spare ticket had been provided by a record label, which meant that it was a really good seat. Rock on. Despite the lead singer's lack of stage presence when he WASN'T behind the piano, they were a fun band to watch, playing a hilarious cover of Shakira and Wyclef Jean's "Hips Don't Lie," and lapsing seemlessly into Oasis' "Wonderwall" during the ending jam on "Vienna."
["Wonderwall," by the way, is, I firmly believe, this millennium's version of "Amazing Grace." Watts' song can be put to any tune and it works (try, for example, singing it to the "Gilligan's Island" theme). Oasis' masterpiece can be inserted into tons of songs and it fits, AND as soon as someone puts it into their song, I fall in love.]
Anyway, the show was cool. I've never been to a piano-centric concert, except for Michael Flynn and his band, the name of which I can't remember, but this one was good... And The Fray, if nothing else, proves that that dorky kid you went to high school with (you know the one-- he graduated high school and undergrad having never shaved a day in his life; played piano and wore a calculator watch?) WILL come out on top. Looks may not improve and he may keep on wearing that calculator watch, but your mom was right, ladies. Be nice to him now; someday you'll be begging for tickets to see his show.
Free concerts of the summer for Blair +1.
The next day I walked into work and had 429 envelopes to put stamps on. "Why?" you ask, because when you have 429 envelopes to send out in the US Mail, the post office won't put stamps on them. (I, for the record, labeled the envelopes, labeled and packaged the CDs to go in the envelopes, stuffed the envelopes, unstuffed the envelopes when my boss decided to add something else to it, sealed the envelopes, unsealed the envelopes, switched out the CDs when we realized a different version had to go out, resealed the envelopes, and then was told we had to put FOUR DIFFERENT STAMPS on each envelope. Welcome to a week in the life of an intern.)
So the post office won't stamp them (they cost $1.98 each to mail, which meant they took FOUR STAMPS) and I am blessed with the opportunity of stamping them all. In the middle of stamping them, one of the guys at work walked through and asked how it was going. "Fine," I replied, "but the stamps made my fingers all sticky."
"Whoa! And your voice all manly!" he replied. "What kind of a disease is that?"
"I think I just went to too many shows..." I replied, not wanting to explain that three of the six rock stars that stayed with me last week were sick. (It's not so professional to have OTHER labels' bands sleeping in your living room.)
And for the last two days I've tried to answer phones and set up in-store record signings for my favorite band signed to our label while sounding like a man. I'm getting sicker, I think, but I suppose based on the way I've been rocking out every night, that's to be expected.
I need my favorite pet rock stars here-- the band that stayed with us last week was sponsored by Vitamin Water. When travelling in big cities, they said they are constantly asked for money by homeless guys who don't realize the band is often a van-roof away from being homeless themselves. The band has no money, so instead they give them a CASE of Vitamin Water. Not a bottle, not a 6pack, but a CASE. (Vitamin Water, by the way, costs about $1.50 a bottle. Too much for me to splurge on, considering I don't actually like it anyway, but it is probably also very good for sick groupies.)
Heaven Forbid,
B
P.S. I found this written on the website of the band that has been my favorite for six years now:
"I'm just looking for a nice girl that can spell, who can be bothered to come to my shows every once in awhile."
Umm, hello?
~The Fray
Note to all aspiring acoustic-y indie bands: if you don't want a career in music, and just want a diversion for a couple years and then millions of dollars to play with for the rest of your life, hire The Fray's manager. They've been touring for two years on the same album, have re-released three different versions of the same album, and scored at least three radio hits. They're about to take a year off to record a new album, but my (amateur) prediction is that they will hit major sophomore slump-- who wouldn't after success that quick?
That said, I still have always had a soft spot for them.
Wednesday I went to work feeling vaguely sick. I had to work late (till 7), but at 645, I got a text from a friend with an extra ticket to see The Fray-- in an hour. I'm 21, I said yes. Mainly because The Fray is one of those bands that I've liked since before anyone had heard of them, but now they are so famous I would never spend $40 to see a band that has gone mainstream anyway. The spare ticket had been provided by a record label, which meant that it was a really good seat. Rock on. Despite the lead singer's lack of stage presence when he WASN'T behind the piano, they were a fun band to watch, playing a hilarious cover of Shakira and Wyclef Jean's "Hips Don't Lie," and lapsing seemlessly into Oasis' "Wonderwall" during the ending jam on "Vienna."
["Wonderwall," by the way, is, I firmly believe, this millennium's version of "Amazing Grace." Watts' song can be put to any tune and it works (try, for example, singing it to the "Gilligan's Island" theme). Oasis' masterpiece can be inserted into tons of songs and it fits, AND as soon as someone puts it into their song, I fall in love.]
Anyway, the show was cool. I've never been to a piano-centric concert, except for Michael Flynn and his band, the name of which I can't remember, but this one was good... And The Fray, if nothing else, proves that that dorky kid you went to high school with (you know the one-- he graduated high school and undergrad having never shaved a day in his life; played piano and wore a calculator watch?) WILL come out on top. Looks may not improve and he may keep on wearing that calculator watch, but your mom was right, ladies. Be nice to him now; someday you'll be begging for tickets to see his show.
Free concerts of the summer for Blair +1.
The next day I walked into work and had 429 envelopes to put stamps on. "Why?" you ask, because when you have 429 envelopes to send out in the US Mail, the post office won't put stamps on them. (I, for the record, labeled the envelopes, labeled and packaged the CDs to go in the envelopes, stuffed the envelopes, unstuffed the envelopes when my boss decided to add something else to it, sealed the envelopes, unsealed the envelopes, switched out the CDs when we realized a different version had to go out, resealed the envelopes, and then was told we had to put FOUR DIFFERENT STAMPS on each envelope. Welcome to a week in the life of an intern.)
So the post office won't stamp them (they cost $1.98 each to mail, which meant they took FOUR STAMPS) and I am blessed with the opportunity of stamping them all. In the middle of stamping them, one of the guys at work walked through and asked how it was going. "Fine," I replied, "but the stamps made my fingers all sticky."
"Whoa! And your voice all manly!" he replied. "What kind of a disease is that?"
"I think I just went to too many shows..." I replied, not wanting to explain that three of the six rock stars that stayed with me last week were sick. (It's not so professional to have OTHER labels' bands sleeping in your living room.)
And for the last two days I've tried to answer phones and set up in-store record signings for my favorite band signed to our label while sounding like a man. I'm getting sicker, I think, but I suppose based on the way I've been rocking out every night, that's to be expected.
I need my favorite pet rock stars here-- the band that stayed with us last week was sponsored by Vitamin Water. When travelling in big cities, they said they are constantly asked for money by homeless guys who don't realize the band is often a van-roof away from being homeless themselves. The band has no money, so instead they give them a CASE of Vitamin Water. Not a bottle, not a 6pack, but a CASE. (Vitamin Water, by the way, costs about $1.50 a bottle. Too much for me to splurge on, considering I don't actually like it anyway, but it is probably also very good for sick groupies.)
Heaven Forbid,
B
P.S. I found this written on the website of the band that has been my favorite for six years now:
"I'm just looking for a nice girl that can spell, who can be bothered to come to my shows every once in awhile."
Umm, hello?
Monday, July 16, 2007
Hey Miss Murder...
"Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer..."
~Boys Like Girls.
Later that same week...
Wow, so my current claim to fame is as follows: in the course of a week, I was on the list at three shows, invited to an afterparty, went backstage at Incubus' opening night, had six rock stars on my floor two nights in a row, rode in a tour van and was in a music video.
Against Me! was filming a music video yesterday in Sun Valley, I applied and got a spot in it! 1pm yesterday was the call time; I got there about 1230 because I knew I was going to have to go through wardrobe. They put me in a black halter cocktail dress with a very flowy skirt (this comes into play later, I promise), and then we began the wait. They were running WAY behind; the background dancers (which is what I was) ended up sitting in holding for almost seven hours, and finally at 8pm they called us to the set. The guys were all in tuxes, the girls were all in black cocktail dresses with bling jewelry they gave us. The plotline of the video was really good, but it was a pretty low budget shoot (for an indie band from my ORIGINAL hometown-- Gaines-vegas), so everything took forever.
Basically they would turn on music and we would start dancing-- I was placed in the front, which means maybe I'll actually be seen in it, which is cool. We started out dancing chill to Billy Idol, then faster to some ridiculous song, then all-out moshing to a really hardcore song.
All of the guys except one were the super-skinny emo types... but that one other guy was shaped like a football player. He was at least 6'3", and in the middle of the moshing, he climbed on top of a table that was part of the set, knocked all the glasses off of it, and jumped off as though he was going to crowdsurf over us.
Crowdsurf. In a crowd of about 20, 10 of whom were girls in heels. All of the girls happened to be standing in front of the table at that exact moment; he jumped into the air, the girls jumped out of the way, and the guy landed flat on his stomach on the tile floor of the set on a pile of broken glass from the wine glasses he had kicked to the floor.
Well done.
It was kind of ridiculous, but completely his own fault-- as soon as the moshing started, the girls freaked-- we were all in stilettos provided by wardrobe; one of the "waiters" had dropped a tray of grapes, which smashed on the floor, leaving those slippery peels everywhere. We all took off our shoes thinking it would make us less likely to slip, but then the glass broke... it was kind of madness.
And by kind of, I mean completely.
But so fun. Pretty much I can't wait until the video comes out...
Met the band, too-- add that one to the list.
Thrash so real,
B
~Boys Like Girls.
Later that same week...
Wow, so my current claim to fame is as follows: in the course of a week, I was on the list at three shows, invited to an afterparty, went backstage at Incubus' opening night, had six rock stars on my floor two nights in a row, rode in a tour van and was in a music video.
Against Me! was filming a music video yesterday in Sun Valley, I applied and got a spot in it! 1pm yesterday was the call time; I got there about 1230 because I knew I was going to have to go through wardrobe. They put me in a black halter cocktail dress with a very flowy skirt (this comes into play later, I promise), and then we began the wait. They were running WAY behind; the background dancers (which is what I was) ended up sitting in holding for almost seven hours, and finally at 8pm they called us to the set. The guys were all in tuxes, the girls were all in black cocktail dresses with bling jewelry they gave us. The plotline of the video was really good, but it was a pretty low budget shoot (for an indie band from my ORIGINAL hometown-- Gaines-vegas), so everything took forever.
Basically they would turn on music and we would start dancing-- I was placed in the front, which means maybe I'll actually be seen in it, which is cool. We started out dancing chill to Billy Idol, then faster to some ridiculous song, then all-out moshing to a really hardcore song.
All of the guys except one were the super-skinny emo types... but that one other guy was shaped like a football player. He was at least 6'3", and in the middle of the moshing, he climbed on top of a table that was part of the set, knocked all the glasses off of it, and jumped off as though he was going to crowdsurf over us.
Crowdsurf. In a crowd of about 20, 10 of whom were girls in heels. All of the girls happened to be standing in front of the table at that exact moment; he jumped into the air, the girls jumped out of the way, and the guy landed flat on his stomach on the tile floor of the set on a pile of broken glass from the wine glasses he had kicked to the floor.
Well done.
It was kind of ridiculous, but completely his own fault-- as soon as the moshing started, the girls freaked-- we were all in stilettos provided by wardrobe; one of the "waiters" had dropped a tray of grapes, which smashed on the floor, leaving those slippery peels everywhere. We all took off our shoes thinking it would make us less likely to slip, but then the glass broke... it was kind of madness.
And by kind of, I mean completely.
But so fun. Pretty much I can't wait until the video comes out...
Met the band, too-- add that one to the list.
Thrash so real,
B
Friday, July 13, 2007
It's cool, she's with the band(s).
Quote of the week:
Singer: "Dude, I called you twice and you didn't answer your phone, and now I get in here and your phone is sitting right next to you!"
Drums: "Look, you didn't call me, it didn't ring!"
Singer, pulls out phone and flips to recent call list: "RIGHT HERE! Dialed Lucas at 253am!"
Drums: "It's only 130am! What, you're calling me from the future now?"
A guy I have tremendous respect for once told me that I am like "that girl from Almost Famous... you know, what was her name? Penny... yeah, Penny Lane."
I took it as a compliment, and have definitely lived up to that rep this week.
I've never been to so many live shows in one week, except for when I was working for David*Crowder Band. And the craziest part? I didn't pay for one of them!
"She said 'what?' and I told her that I didn't know..."
Saturday night: Laced Confection CD release party. Bouncer let me in free, probably by accident.
"RING THE BELLS!"
Monday night: The Perfect Victim concert at on Sunset Strip. I know the band; got in for free. The Perfect Victim opened for Metal Skool, an 80's cover band that plays notoriously wild shows every Monday night at the Key Club. We went to the Rainbow Room for dinner with the band before the show. The cool thing about the Rainbow Room is that despite the fact that it is one of the most well-known restaurants in LA with an A-list clientele, it is also some of the cheapest food I have found in Southern California. While sitting at our huge red leather booth noshing on their famous raisin nut bread, I looked up to see a man walking toward our table dressed all in black with a Jared Leto hat on... I recognized the jawline immediately, causing mine to drop to the floor as he made eye contact. Oh, yes, my celebrity sighting status has gone up three notches: it was Dave Navarro, of Jane's Addiction fame.
I've never really listened to any of Dave Navarro's music, but I did know that he has had the most ridiculously rock star life of pretty much anyone ever, including a murdered mother, a non-English-speaking father, three marriages, a heroin addiction, and an autobiography written before the age of 35. He sat down at the table next to us with a huge case marked Fragile, looking exactly like a rock star ought to look when eating dinner at the Rainbow Room at 7:30 in the evening.
Anyway, we walked next door to the Key Club and made our way to the pit as the band slipped backstage to do their set. Their set was awesome, which was great since several label scouts were watching. After they left the stage, we met them at the bar and the guitarist, who I had never met, threw his arm around me and yelled into my ear "MY NAME IS PRIESTLEY, I LOVE YOU, AND I AM A GUITAR GOD!" Then later on: "Me and Jake [the other guitarist] are such guitar gods that they are putting us on the cover of Guitar World!" I've set up ads in Guitar World before, and I knew the chances of an unsigned band making it to the cover were slim, but Priestley was so convinced that I decided to ask Jake, who had already consumed the exact amount of alcohol you would expect a 21-year-old lead guitarist to have consumed after playing a flawless set to Capitol, Hopeless, and Universal Records reps.
"Jake!" I yelled in his ear. He turned toward me and put one of the extra straws in his drink into my mouth.
"Are you and Priestly really going to be on the cover of Guitar World?"
"Someday..." he responded dreamily.
Metal Skool, the headlining band, took the stage and we made our way to the back of the pit to watch. They played all the amazing 80's covers-- Ratt, Whitesnake, Guns n Roses, Kansas, and, most importantly, "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. I ran into a guy who I think might have been Shannon Leto, the drummer of my favorite band, but I'm not sure... After the show we stood on the side of Sunset Boulevard, did the emo rally call, and eventually made our way back to the other intern's apartment, where we both spent the night, showing up for work the next morning still unshowered and vaguely dirty.
Bedtime: 4am.
"The sky resembles a backlit canopy..."
Tuesday night: Sold-out opening night of Incubus' Light Grenades tour at the Greek Theatre; I had an all-access pass and my name on Incubus' list.
There was a problem with getting the list to guest services, so the other two Immortal interns and I were stuck waiting with the rest of Incubus' friends outside the venue until a few minutes before the opening act, but it didn't matter because I SAW INCUBUS (with an all-access pass!) for free in their hometown! Of all the shows I've ever been to (and that's alot), I can honestly say they put on the best concert I have ever seen. Despite the lead singer's lack of the theatrics so popular in his genre, the band got along better than any I have ever seen play together-- they clearly enjoy what they do, and that ALWAYS comes through in a performance, no matter the music style. It also helps that they're on their sixth album, so the selection of songs they have to pull from is unbelievable, but they still played all three of the songs that I "couldn't live without" hearing live, including an acoustic version of "Earth To Bella," one of those songs that, ever since the first time I heard it, I have wished was about me. AND they played for almost two hours, forgetting the intro to one of the songs from their first album, which always makes me laugh. (They even found a June bug onstage "In July, how odd!", which the lead singer threw at the drummer, who jumped off of his stool and refused to sit back down till they found the bug and got rid of it.) Post-show we hung out in hospitality, watching out for Brandon Boyd, and I randomly ended up meeting a guy who works for Billboard (that's why I LOVE this town-- I do music, and everywhere I go, music people collect and it's wonderful!). The venue was a little too big to be really phenomenal, BUT it's set against one of the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by tall pines, and the stars shining down... awesome. Best part of the night (SLASH perhaps highlight of the summer) was the post-encore song, an extended version of "Wish You Were Here," one of my all-time favorite songs. Amazing. Lyrics to come. Post-show we went to House Of Pies. If you can't tell by the name that it was OBVIOUSLY made for post-concert eats, then I don't know... I had pecan pie with ice cream, which we ate sitting at the counter in the diner.
Bedtime: 130am.
"You are the bluest light..."
Wednesday night: Sky Eats Airplane/Odd Project/Emarosa show at the Knitting Factory. I was on the band's list, got in for free again.
"Ok, ok," you may be saying, "you were on the list on Monday because you knew the band, on Tuesday because they're signed to your label, but this? How did you pull that off?"
Kasey, the other intern, and I decided to go to this show over the weekend. I had heard and liked Sky Eats Airplane, so I checked out their opener (Emarosa) and found out they are from Lexington, KY, one of the [many] places I consider some form of home. So I sent them an email, said I was from Kentucky and excited to see them live. I got an email back, and before I knew it Kasey and I were on the phone with the band, who had no place to stay the night of the show, which we found out early in the afternoon on the day of. But Kasey has her own apartment, and I always stay there after concerts anyway... and Kentucky boys just rock anyway... So we went to the show, windmilled with the best of 'em, and then drove circles on Hollywood Blvd until the band's equipment was loaded up, at which point we went to IHOP (where else would you take a band after a concert?) and chowed down. After introductions had been made, without thinking about how awkward it would be, I accidentally blurted "You don't have any Ale8 in your van, do you?" All jaws dropped; all eyes turned to me.
"Nnnnooo, but you get MAJOR props for knowing what that is," the guitarist replied. They followed us back to Kasey's apartment where we watched Johnny Knoxville's movie (you know which one), drank orange juice, and one by one fell asleep. Luckily they had sleeping bags, so it wasn't a problem that all they had to sleep on was the living room floor. The next morning Kasey left for work at 8, but I didn't have to leave till 1030. I got up, got dressed, and tiptoed through the gauntlet of sleeping emo boys in the front room. That afternoon, their show for that night got cancelled, so they asked if they could stay with us again. Which meant I was staying with Kasey again. She and I got off work, met back at their apartment, and waited for them to get back home. Because we were all kind of exhausted, we decided to go to Venice Beach, wander around and get dinner. We rode there in the band's van (all kinds of madness-- I felt like Mark Wahlberg in Rock Star, especially when the Talking Heads came on). We got to the beach and it was closed (surprise surprise; it was at least 10 by the time we got there), but we jumped the fence (Dashboard Confessional, anyone?) and played around on the sand for a couple hours. Eventually we got too hungry to hang out any longer, so we left and drove from Venice to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. We wandered up and down the Promenade, listening to the street performers, which boggled the band. ("Why do they come out here to play? Do they think someone will recognize them HERE and decide to sign them? Maybe we should give them some money...") Pretty soon I ended up in Urban Outfitters, the only store on the promenade still open, with two of the guys shopping for new girl pants and cheap sale t-shirts. ("I love this place, cuz everyone that works here looks like me and they never stare like we're weird.") We got dinner at a Mexican place somewhere where the server asked "are you guys in a band?" and we just laughed, eventually riding in the band's dirty stickered van back to Kasey's place in West Hollywood, where we hung out some more, did laundry, and all around had a blast, especially after the lead singer returned from a food run to the gas station with a roll of Oreos and a half gallon of milk to drink out of a 64 oz. Big Gulp cup. The best part of the whole night was that they didn't stop being a band just because we were there... And hanging out with them for that long was awesome; I grilled them about being in a band, management, etc., and they grilled me back about working for a label, post-college plans, etc. I felt kind of bad for them-- they're trailer blew up halfway through the tour and they had to buy a new one, now they're all completely broke. Glimpses of my post-college days? Perhaps. Among the six guys in the band, there were six flat-irons (I had never even met a guy who knew what a hair straightener was) and more pairs of girl pants than I could count. All I can say is that I would trade wardrobes with any of them in a heartbeat, and probably I'd be able to fit in all of it.
Oh, and then on Friday at work I called the guys from my favorite band signed to our label-- how's this for awkward, though: I thought I was calling their manager, so when the 17-year-old drummer answered the phone I was so thrown off neither of us knew what to say.
As glam as it gets...,
Live from Los Angeles,
Penny Lane's replacement,
Sugar High.
P.S. This week the other intern from Immortal and I went to Sprinkles Cupcakes for a snack. Sprinkles, in case you didn't know, is Pete Wentz's preferred snack of choice. Pete Wentz is the mouthpiece of Fall Out Boy, and all he ever talks about is those cupcakes... so we went to try them for ourselves. They were good, but an hour later Kasey and I both felt so sick we swore never to go back. Not only that, but we also didn't even see Pete there (which means we'll probably troll the place again even though the cupcakes weren't that good; Oh, the pains of being a groupie).
Singer: "Dude, I called you twice and you didn't answer your phone, and now I get in here and your phone is sitting right next to you!"
Drums: "Look, you didn't call me, it didn't ring!"
Singer, pulls out phone and flips to recent call list: "RIGHT HERE! Dialed Lucas at 253am!"
Drums: "It's only 130am! What, you're calling me from the future now?"
A guy I have tremendous respect for once told me that I am like "that girl from Almost Famous... you know, what was her name? Penny... yeah, Penny Lane."
I took it as a compliment, and have definitely lived up to that rep this week.
I've never been to so many live shows in one week, except for when I was working for David*Crowder Band. And the craziest part? I didn't pay for one of them!
"She said 'what?' and I told her that I didn't know..."
Saturday night: Laced Confection CD release party. Bouncer let me in free, probably by accident.
"RING THE BELLS!"
Monday night: The Perfect Victim concert at on Sunset Strip. I know the band; got in for free. The Perfect Victim opened for Metal Skool, an 80's cover band that plays notoriously wild shows every Monday night at the Key Club. We went to the Rainbow Room for dinner with the band before the show. The cool thing about the Rainbow Room is that despite the fact that it is one of the most well-known restaurants in LA with an A-list clientele, it is also some of the cheapest food I have found in Southern California. While sitting at our huge red leather booth noshing on their famous raisin nut bread, I looked up to see a man walking toward our table dressed all in black with a Jared Leto hat on... I recognized the jawline immediately, causing mine to drop to the floor as he made eye contact. Oh, yes, my celebrity sighting status has gone up three notches: it was Dave Navarro, of Jane's Addiction fame.
I've never really listened to any of Dave Navarro's music, but I did know that he has had the most ridiculously rock star life of pretty much anyone ever, including a murdered mother, a non-English-speaking father, three marriages, a heroin addiction, and an autobiography written before the age of 35. He sat down at the table next to us with a huge case marked Fragile, looking exactly like a rock star ought to look when eating dinner at the Rainbow Room at 7:30 in the evening.
Anyway, we walked next door to the Key Club and made our way to the pit as the band slipped backstage to do their set. Their set was awesome, which was great since several label scouts were watching. After they left the stage, we met them at the bar and the guitarist, who I had never met, threw his arm around me and yelled into my ear "MY NAME IS PRIESTLEY, I LOVE YOU, AND I AM A GUITAR GOD!" Then later on: "Me and Jake [the other guitarist] are such guitar gods that they are putting us on the cover of Guitar World!" I've set up ads in Guitar World before, and I knew the chances of an unsigned band making it to the cover were slim, but Priestley was so convinced that I decided to ask Jake, who had already consumed the exact amount of alcohol you would expect a 21-year-old lead guitarist to have consumed after playing a flawless set to Capitol, Hopeless, and Universal Records reps.
"Jake!" I yelled in his ear. He turned toward me and put one of the extra straws in his drink into my mouth.
"Are you and Priestly really going to be on the cover of Guitar World?"
"Someday..." he responded dreamily.
Metal Skool, the headlining band, took the stage and we made our way to the back of the pit to watch. They played all the amazing 80's covers-- Ratt, Whitesnake, Guns n Roses, Kansas, and, most importantly, "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. I ran into a guy who I think might have been Shannon Leto, the drummer of my favorite band, but I'm not sure... After the show we stood on the side of Sunset Boulevard, did the emo rally call, and eventually made our way back to the other intern's apartment, where we both spent the night, showing up for work the next morning still unshowered and vaguely dirty.
Bedtime: 4am.
"The sky resembles a backlit canopy..."
Tuesday night: Sold-out opening night of Incubus' Light Grenades tour at the Greek Theatre; I had an all-access pass and my name on Incubus' list.
There was a problem with getting the list to guest services, so the other two Immortal interns and I were stuck waiting with the rest of Incubus' friends outside the venue until a few minutes before the opening act, but it didn't matter because I SAW INCUBUS (with an all-access pass!) for free in their hometown! Of all the shows I've ever been to (and that's alot), I can honestly say they put on the best concert I have ever seen. Despite the lead singer's lack of the theatrics so popular in his genre, the band got along better than any I have ever seen play together-- they clearly enjoy what they do, and that ALWAYS comes through in a performance, no matter the music style. It also helps that they're on their sixth album, so the selection of songs they have to pull from is unbelievable, but they still played all three of the songs that I "couldn't live without" hearing live, including an acoustic version of "Earth To Bella," one of those songs that, ever since the first time I heard it, I have wished was about me. AND they played for almost two hours, forgetting the intro to one of the songs from their first album, which always makes me laugh. (They even found a June bug onstage "In July, how odd!", which the lead singer threw at the drummer, who jumped off of his stool and refused to sit back down till they found the bug and got rid of it.) Post-show we hung out in hospitality, watching out for Brandon Boyd, and I randomly ended up meeting a guy who works for Billboard (that's why I LOVE this town-- I do music, and everywhere I go, music people collect and it's wonderful!). The venue was a little too big to be really phenomenal, BUT it's set against one of the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by tall pines, and the stars shining down... awesome. Best part of the night (SLASH perhaps highlight of the summer) was the post-encore song, an extended version of "Wish You Were Here," one of my all-time favorite songs. Amazing. Lyrics to come. Post-show we went to House Of Pies. If you can't tell by the name that it was OBVIOUSLY made for post-concert eats, then I don't know... I had pecan pie with ice cream, which we ate sitting at the counter in the diner.
Bedtime: 130am.
"You are the bluest light..."
Wednesday night: Sky Eats Airplane/Odd Project/Emarosa show at the Knitting Factory. I was on the band's list, got in for free again.
"Ok, ok," you may be saying, "you were on the list on Monday because you knew the band, on Tuesday because they're signed to your label, but this? How did you pull that off?"
Kasey, the other intern, and I decided to go to this show over the weekend. I had heard and liked Sky Eats Airplane, so I checked out their opener (Emarosa) and found out they are from Lexington, KY, one of the [many] places I consider some form of home. So I sent them an email, said I was from Kentucky and excited to see them live. I got an email back, and before I knew it Kasey and I were on the phone with the band, who had no place to stay the night of the show, which we found out early in the afternoon on the day of. But Kasey has her own apartment, and I always stay there after concerts anyway... and Kentucky boys just rock anyway... So we went to the show, windmilled with the best of 'em, and then drove circles on Hollywood Blvd until the band's equipment was loaded up, at which point we went to IHOP (where else would you take a band after a concert?) and chowed down. After introductions had been made, without thinking about how awkward it would be, I accidentally blurted "You don't have any Ale8 in your van, do you?" All jaws dropped; all eyes turned to me.
"Nnnnooo, but you get MAJOR props for knowing what that is," the guitarist replied. They followed us back to Kasey's apartment where we watched Johnny Knoxville's movie (you know which one), drank orange juice, and one by one fell asleep. Luckily they had sleeping bags, so it wasn't a problem that all they had to sleep on was the living room floor. The next morning Kasey left for work at 8, but I didn't have to leave till 1030. I got up, got dressed, and tiptoed through the gauntlet of sleeping emo boys in the front room. That afternoon, their show for that night got cancelled, so they asked if they could stay with us again. Which meant I was staying with Kasey again. She and I got off work, met back at their apartment, and waited for them to get back home. Because we were all kind of exhausted, we decided to go to Venice Beach, wander around and get dinner. We rode there in the band's van (all kinds of madness-- I felt like Mark Wahlberg in Rock Star, especially when the Talking Heads came on). We got to the beach and it was closed (surprise surprise; it was at least 10 by the time we got there), but we jumped the fence (Dashboard Confessional, anyone?) and played around on the sand for a couple hours. Eventually we got too hungry to hang out any longer, so we left and drove from Venice to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. We wandered up and down the Promenade, listening to the street performers, which boggled the band. ("Why do they come out here to play? Do they think someone will recognize them HERE and decide to sign them? Maybe we should give them some money...") Pretty soon I ended up in Urban Outfitters, the only store on the promenade still open, with two of the guys shopping for new girl pants and cheap sale t-shirts. ("I love this place, cuz everyone that works here looks like me and they never stare like we're weird.") We got dinner at a Mexican place somewhere where the server asked "are you guys in a band?" and we just laughed, eventually riding in the band's dirty stickered van back to Kasey's place in West Hollywood, where we hung out some more, did laundry, and all around had a blast, especially after the lead singer returned from a food run to the gas station with a roll of Oreos and a half gallon of milk to drink out of a 64 oz. Big Gulp cup. The best part of the whole night was that they didn't stop being a band just because we were there... And hanging out with them for that long was awesome; I grilled them about being in a band, management, etc., and they grilled me back about working for a label, post-college plans, etc. I felt kind of bad for them-- they're trailer blew up halfway through the tour and they had to buy a new one, now they're all completely broke. Glimpses of my post-college days? Perhaps. Among the six guys in the band, there were six flat-irons (I had never even met a guy who knew what a hair straightener was) and more pairs of girl pants than I could count. All I can say is that I would trade wardrobes with any of them in a heartbeat, and probably I'd be able to fit in all of it.
Oh, and then on Friday at work I called the guys from my favorite band signed to our label-- how's this for awkward, though: I thought I was calling their manager, so when the 17-year-old drummer answered the phone I was so thrown off neither of us knew what to say.
As glam as it gets...,
Live from Los Angeles,
Penny Lane's replacement,
Sugar High.
P.S. This week the other intern from Immortal and I went to Sprinkles Cupcakes for a snack. Sprinkles, in case you didn't know, is Pete Wentz's preferred snack of choice. Pete Wentz is the mouthpiece of Fall Out Boy, and all he ever talks about is those cupcakes... so we went to try them for ourselves. They were good, but an hour later Kasey and I both felt so sick we swore never to go back. Not only that, but we also didn't even see Pete there (which means we'll probably troll the place again even though the cupcakes weren't that good; Oh, the pains of being a groupie).
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
...And then I found $5
Since when did my life become this amazing?
Ridiculous it has always been... but glamourous?
There's no denying it now, she's with the band and she's never going back.
Are you in?
~B
Ridiculous it has always been... but glamourous?
There's no denying it now, she's with the band and she's never going back.
Are you in?
~B
Sunday, July 8, 2007
After-Hours Clubs! After-Hours After-Parties! After-Midnight Breakfast!
"And the neighbors, they complain pretty near every day..."
~TAI...
Have you ever had unlucky clothes?
But there was still time to kill before that, so we ditched the guys, blew off the club and walked to Mel's Diner, The Majestic of Hollywood. We ate pancakes and drank coffee, and then got out our (handwritten) directions and headed to Ventura for the afterparty. On the way there, we started thinking about what we were about to do...
The directions didn't really say where the party was other than the street and the neighborhood; we only figured out it was Ventura when we realized we were going (very) north. We had talked to the band at On The Rox and told them we were going to come, they were really nice, and we thought it would be fun.
Then when we got close to the house where the party was going to be, we started to doubt the whole situation-- out loud to each other.
"Ok, so what if it's just the band and us?"
"So? We talked to them at the club, they were nice guys..."
"Yeah, but if we aren't having a good time, how will we get out of there without being awkward?"
"Besides that, it's a band afterparty! It's gonna be packed! There'll be tons of people there, it'll be like the video for "Weekend Warriors!"
"Ok, that would be fun..."
"But what if it's just the band and their girlfriends?"
"What kind of band throws an afterparty with their girlfriends? That would just be weird."
"Ok, but it's still possible. It's also possible that it's just going to be a bunch of groupie girls, because what kind of people go to these sorts of parties?"
"What do you mean 'what kind of people go to these parties?' I thought you two do it all the time!"
We drove past the house where the party was... it was well-lit, friendly-looking, and tempting to go, since we all live in apartments and haven't set foot in a real house in weeks, but then we pansied out and just came home instead, acting out the Scary Kids Scaring Kids music video for "My Darkest Hour," and generally rocking out.
I had a good time with the girls. If only the guys were not such losers...
She's so lucky,
B
~TAI...
Have you ever had unlucky clothes?
Last night I went to On The Rox, the nightclub above the Roxy on the Sunset Strip. I couldn't decide what to wear, but finally chose a soft black halter with sequins around the neckline. It's a great shirt for going out because it's so comfortable but still so glam; unfortunately nothing good has ever happened to me in it. I don't even mean nothing good; I mean every time I've worn it bad things have happened. Which is doubly inconvenient because it looks really good. So last night (which was billed as the "luckiest night of the millennium" [7/7/07? Get it?]), I decided to give the shirt one last chance. It must have worked because not only did nothing spectacularly bad happen (except for the collective behavior of all the guys I came with, who I immediately spent the night trying to avoid), but the guitarist for the first band even came up and made conversation after his band's set. Perhaps the tide has turned for my favorite off-brand going-out top.
I went with two of the other girl interns from work, one of the guy interns and a bunch of his friends. All of the guys were mainly annoying, but the girls and I had a good time rocking out to Laced Confection and then Ryan Crosby, who was headlining (another CD release party). And then, when Laced Confection announced they were having an afterparty, we decided to go.
But there was still time to kill before that, so we ditched the guys, blew off the club and walked to Mel's Diner, The Majestic of Hollywood. We ate pancakes and drank coffee, and then got out our (handwritten) directions and headed to Ventura for the afterparty. On the way there, we started thinking about what we were about to do...
The directions didn't really say where the party was other than the street and the neighborhood; we only figured out it was Ventura when we realized we were going (very) north. We had talked to the band at On The Rox and told them we were going to come, they were really nice, and we thought it would be fun.
Then when we got close to the house where the party was going to be, we started to doubt the whole situation-- out loud to each other.
"Ok, so what if it's just the band and us?"
"So? We talked to them at the club, they were nice guys..."
"Yeah, but if we aren't having a good time, how will we get out of there without being awkward?"
"Besides that, it's a band afterparty! It's gonna be packed! There'll be tons of people there, it'll be like the video for "Weekend Warriors!"
"Ok, that would be fun..."
"But what if it's just the band and their girlfriends?"
"What kind of band throws an afterparty with their girlfriends? That would just be weird."
"Ok, but it's still possible. It's also possible that it's just going to be a bunch of groupie girls, because what kind of people go to these sorts of parties?"
"What do you mean 'what kind of people go to these parties?' I thought you two do it all the time!"
We drove past the house where the party was... it was well-lit, friendly-looking, and tempting to go, since we all live in apartments and haven't set foot in a real house in weeks, but then we pansied out and just came home instead, acting out the Scary Kids Scaring Kids music video for "My Darkest Hour," and generally rocking out.
I had a good time with the girls. If only the guys were not such losers...
She's so lucky,
B
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Blast From The [distant] Past...
When I looooooooooooook intooooooooooo your light blue eyyyyyyyyyyyyyes"
~BSB
Ok, so it's not that distant. But it is when you're only 21. I recently came across an article online about Brian Littrell, the former member of the Backstreet Boys who was always my favorite and may or may not have played a role in my decision to go to college in ATL. He's making music now as a solo Christian artist, he hosted the Dove Awards, is still touring, has released at least 3 music videos for his sole solo album (arguably making it successful regardless of sales-- do you know how much a video costs? Not to mention the fact that most Christian artists don't even make them at all).
And there are rumors that the dear old BSBs are in the studio again, preparing their second "reunion" album since their wild success at the turn of the millennium. Minus, of course, dear Kevin, whose Mountain I lived on last summer. No really. How my ex-boss would flip if he heard me refer to it as Kevin's Mountain. Nevertheless, it was the primary reason I took the job. That and the fact that I had heard the snickerdoodles were spectacular.
But the real point of this is that there must be some kind of benefit to becoming rapidly worldwide famous at the age of 17. Because this guy doesn't look a day older today than he did when their record-breaking success Millennium was released in May of 1999. [Is it weird that I remembered that?]
Here, see for yourself:
Now you tell me how old that guy looks. Or maybe the fact that I don't think he looks old is simply a sign that I too am getting old.
On an unrelated sidenote, I've always thought the pastor of the church I go to in Atlanta looks like an older version of Brian Littrell. Check him out:
The weird part of that is that Brian (the Backstreet Boy) lives next to Louie (the pastor).
~BSB
Ok, so it's not that distant. But it is when you're only 21. I recently came across an article online about Brian Littrell, the former member of the Backstreet Boys who was always my favorite and may or may not have played a role in my decision to go to college in ATL. He's making music now as a solo Christian artist, he hosted the Dove Awards, is still touring, has released at least 3 music videos for his sole solo album (arguably making it successful regardless of sales-- do you know how much a video costs? Not to mention the fact that most Christian artists don't even make them at all).
And there are rumors that the dear old BSBs are in the studio again, preparing their second "reunion" album since their wild success at the turn of the millennium. Minus, of course, dear Kevin, whose Mountain I lived on last summer. No really. How my ex-boss would flip if he heard me refer to it as Kevin's Mountain. Nevertheless, it was the primary reason I took the job. That and the fact that I had heard the snickerdoodles were spectacular.
But the real point of this is that there must be some kind of benefit to becoming rapidly worldwide famous at the age of 17. Because this guy doesn't look a day older today than he did when their record-breaking success Millennium was released in May of 1999. [Is it weird that I remembered that?]
Here, see for yourself:
Now you tell me how old that guy looks. Or maybe the fact that I don't think he looks old is simply a sign that I too am getting old.On an unrelated sidenote, I've always thought the pastor of the church I go to in Atlanta looks like an older version of Brian Littrell. Check him out:
The weird part of that is that Brian (the Backstreet Boy) lives next to Louie (the pastor).Which has always made me want to go visit him at home, just to see. Can you imagine living next door to a Backstreet Boy? Knowing that if you ran out of milk, that is who you would have to go borrow it from? Wow.
In other former crush news, James Marsden is in Hairspray, which in itself is enough to make me want to go sit for hours in the blistering sun at the premiere.
Teenybopping,
B
P.S. As long as we're on the subject of me acting younger than I am, Ratatouille came out last week-ish and I really want to see it, solely because it is set in France. I can't tell any of my hipster friends that I want to see it, so I'm thinking of going alone. I had a friend who really wanted to see Shrek when it came out, so he went on the morning of the day it came out, by himself, to see it at the theatre. Can you imagine being a young mom and running into a 25-year-old guy at the theatre watching Shrek 2 alone? If he can do that, I can totally go see Ratatouille alone... right?
Friday, July 6, 2007
I bet you're still a sucker...
"California... the state where you never find a dance floor empty."
~ 2Pac, California Love
Ok, ok, I admit it. I like a good conspiracy theory as much as the next 21-year-old record label intern... at least when it has to do with a musician.
I read a book a few years ago called "The Walrus Was Paul" about the alleged death of Paul McCartney. I don't know how well-known the theory was back in the day, but the book argued more or less that Paul had died (probably in a car wreck) during the Beatles' heyday, immediately prior to the release of "Let It Be." After his death, because the record label and the rest of the band didn't want to quit recording, they found someone that looked like him and faked that he was still alive. The book had all kinds of awesome "proofs" of the theory, some of them believable, some of them ridiculous, and some of them just creepy.
After I read the book, I had nightmares for a week. I don't know why, it wasn't a ghost story. But it completely freaked me out.
Conversely, there's a theory now that Tupac Shakur is still alive. Tupac, in case you don't know, was a rapper killed in the mid-90's in a drive-by shooting. Not known for his pacificity, he was in a car with the owner of his record label (Suge Knight, a known gang member) when he was shot in the head and killed. Or at least that's what most everyone thinks. Two months after his death, a rival rapper, Biggie Smalls, was killed in a similar fashion, and there has always been [logical, likely true] theories that his death was retribution for Shakur's. Neither death was very well investigated, which is odd, because I think if it happened today (eleven years later) it would be the center of news for weeks.
Things like that just don't happen now, and it seems odd that only eleven years ago, it was considered par for the course and no big deal. Maybe it has more to do with the rise of rap as a legitimate genre of music than anything else, but today the hiphop industry is not looked at as legit, to coin an MC Hammer phrase. No one thinks that famous people are actually part of gangs, or actually deal drugs, or whatever, primarily because it's been proven that artists like Vanilla Ice and Ja Rule came from middle-class backgrounds and never set foot on the other side of the tracks. But back in the 90's... Suge Knight and his henchmen beat up artists trying to get off their label; kidnapped rival record label owners; and killed each other in gang-related shootings. The only ones left still famous today that really were around back then are Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre, but Dr. Dre (as everyone knows) is dead and locked in Eminem's basement, so really that leaves Snoop, who coaches a little league team somewhere in California, which means he's kind of a sellout.
The LAPD, never known for its righteous officers, had been exposed over and over as having connections with Tupac, Dre, Knight, and the rest of the Death Row Records crew, so is it really so much more farfetched to think that they could help him fake his death? I'm not saying I believe it, but I am saying this theory has a lot more validity than a lot out there.
You know the saying about protesting too much? It's not directly related to this, but when most famous people die, there are not photos of them on the autopsy table available online. But there have always been photos of Tupac widely available on the internet, even on posters and t-shirts, which is the only way I knew they existed. It seems like the whole situation was orchestrated to be easy to "prove" his death.
Again, I'm not saying I believe he's going to show back up on Saturday, but after reading through the "proofs," all of which revolve around the number 7 (hence the Saturday return-- it's 7/7/07). Most of them are fairly coincidental, BUT thanks to computer music programs like ProTools, it's easy now to listen to music played backwards. I've never believed in the validity of those, mainly because I've never listened to anything backwards. But after listening to "This Life I Lead" recorded backwards on WavePad, the words "Yeah, I am alive" are so obvious it's creepy. And the fact that he's come out with more albums since his death than he did while he was alive? Weird.
I don't think it's true. I don't think he's coming back. But the theory is creepy and weird to me, and if he were to show back up, it would be a little bit nuts.
Plus, let's look at this logically. Faking your own death is not legal, so if he shows back up now, he'd be immediately arrested, so if, somehow, he has managed to stay alive and under the radar for ELEVEN years, why not keep it up and stay on permanent vacation, collecting royalties from his "posthumous" albums and chilling on a beach in Jamaica?
Phoo, it still gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Thug Life,
B
~ 2Pac, California Love
Ok, ok, I admit it. I like a good conspiracy theory as much as the next 21-year-old record label intern... at least when it has to do with a musician.
I read a book a few years ago called "The Walrus Was Paul" about the alleged death of Paul McCartney. I don't know how well-known the theory was back in the day, but the book argued more or less that Paul had died (probably in a car wreck) during the Beatles' heyday, immediately prior to the release of "Let It Be." After his death, because the record label and the rest of the band didn't want to quit recording, they found someone that looked like him and faked that he was still alive. The book had all kinds of awesome "proofs" of the theory, some of them believable, some of them ridiculous, and some of them just creepy.
After I read the book, I had nightmares for a week. I don't know why, it wasn't a ghost story. But it completely freaked me out.
Conversely, there's a theory now that Tupac Shakur is still alive. Tupac, in case you don't know, was a rapper killed in the mid-90's in a drive-by shooting. Not known for his pacificity, he was in a car with the owner of his record label (Suge Knight, a known gang member) when he was shot in the head and killed. Or at least that's what most everyone thinks. Two months after his death, a rival rapper, Biggie Smalls, was killed in a similar fashion, and there has always been [logical, likely true] theories that his death was retribution for Shakur's. Neither death was very well investigated, which is odd, because I think if it happened today (eleven years later) it would be the center of news for weeks.
Things like that just don't happen now, and it seems odd that only eleven years ago, it was considered par for the course and no big deal. Maybe it has more to do with the rise of rap as a legitimate genre of music than anything else, but today the hiphop industry is not looked at as legit, to coin an MC Hammer phrase. No one thinks that famous people are actually part of gangs, or actually deal drugs, or whatever, primarily because it's been proven that artists like Vanilla Ice and Ja Rule came from middle-class backgrounds and never set foot on the other side of the tracks. But back in the 90's... Suge Knight and his henchmen beat up artists trying to get off their label; kidnapped rival record label owners; and killed each other in gang-related shootings. The only ones left still famous today that really were around back then are Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre, but Dr. Dre (as everyone knows) is dead and locked in Eminem's basement, so really that leaves Snoop, who coaches a little league team somewhere in California, which means he's kind of a sellout.
The LAPD, never known for its righteous officers, had been exposed over and over as having connections with Tupac, Dre, Knight, and the rest of the Death Row Records crew, so is it really so much more farfetched to think that they could help him fake his death? I'm not saying I believe it, but I am saying this theory has a lot more validity than a lot out there.
You know the saying about protesting too much? It's not directly related to this, but when most famous people die, there are not photos of them on the autopsy table available online. But there have always been photos of Tupac widely available on the internet, even on posters and t-shirts, which is the only way I knew they existed. It seems like the whole situation was orchestrated to be easy to "prove" his death.
Again, I'm not saying I believe he's going to show back up on Saturday, but after reading through the "proofs," all of which revolve around the number 7 (hence the Saturday return-- it's 7/7/07). Most of them are fairly coincidental, BUT thanks to computer music programs like ProTools, it's easy now to listen to music played backwards. I've never believed in the validity of those, mainly because I've never listened to anything backwards. But after listening to "This Life I Lead" recorded backwards on WavePad, the words "Yeah, I am alive" are so obvious it's creepy. And the fact that he's come out with more albums since his death than he did while he was alive? Weird.
I don't think it's true. I don't think he's coming back. But the theory is creepy and weird to me, and if he were to show back up, it would be a little bit nuts.
Plus, let's look at this logically. Faking your own death is not legal, so if he shows back up now, he'd be immediately arrested, so if, somehow, he has managed to stay alive and under the radar for ELEVEN years, why not keep it up and stay on permanent vacation, collecting royalties from his "posthumous" albums and chilling on a beach in Jamaica?
Phoo, it still gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Thug Life,
B
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Dirt and Hippie Love Cakes...
"But we got spaghetti! And blankets."
~Mitch Hedberg.
Top 7 Cover songs:
7. "Song 2"-- Blur/AFI.
6. "Wonderwall"-- Oasis/Ryan Adams.
5. "Enjoy The Silence"-- Depeche Mode/Anberlin.
4. "Don't Stop Believing"-- Journey/Plans To Leave.
3. "Smile Like You Mean It"-- The Killers/David Gray.
2. "Dancing In The Moonlight"-- Thin Lizzy/Jeff Buckley
1. "Shadowlands"-- Joy Division/The Killers.
Honorable Mention goes to "Under Pressure" by the immortal combination of Queen and Bowie, covered by the mere mortal duo of My Chemical Romance and The Used.
~Mitch Hedberg.
Top 7 Cover songs:
7. "Song 2"-- Blur/AFI.
6. "Wonderwall"-- Oasis/Ryan Adams.
5. "Enjoy The Silence"-- Depeche Mode/Anberlin.
4. "Don't Stop Believing"-- Journey/Plans To Leave.
3. "Smile Like You Mean It"-- The Killers/David Gray.
2. "Dancing In The Moonlight"-- Thin Lizzy/Jeff Buckley
1. "Shadowlands"-- Joy Division/The Killers.
Honorable Mention goes to "Under Pressure" by the immortal combination of Queen and Bowie, covered by the mere mortal duo of My Chemical Romance and The Used.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Another day, another list, another memory
Interviewer: "Which album would you want with you if you were stuck on a desert island?"
Jade Puget: "I'd build a lifeboat out of sand."
Davey Havok: "Wait... what?"
Today my boss asked me what my desert island albums are. It's an extremely valid question-- I gave him a quick top 5, but the more I thought about what my mental state would probably be if stuck on a desert island, the more unsure I became about my answer. So I decided the point of the question is to see which albums I could listen to over and over and not which albums I would want with me in times of great mental distress and potential scorching sunburns.
So here's the answer. Again, this isn't an all-time list. But if I was dropped onto an island in the Pacific Ocean tomorrow, all alone, this is what I would want to have with me.
1. Sing The Sorrow-- AFI. It's a classic, what can I say?
2. A Beautiful Lie-- 30 Seconds To Mars. How long have I owned this album now and still find myself listening to it at least once a week??
3. Light Grenades-- Incubus. Catchy hooks like "Anna Molly" (say it out loud, you'll get it eventually) plus emotional ballads like "Earth To Bella" combine to make an astoundingly good 5th album, definitely their overall best.
4. Truth, Soul, Rock and Roll-- The Elms. They've been my favorite band for... well, as long as I've HAD a favorite band, and this album from 2003 takes the cake as their best.
5. Between The Dim And The Dark-- Jump Little Children. Mellow but exotic... it reminds me of the taste of cigars and cherry coke, and there's not a song on it that fails.
Honorable Mentions:
Whiskeytown-- Pneumonia.
The Weepies-- Say I Am You.
The Sounds-- Living In America.
Pete Yorn-- MusicForTheMorningAfter.
Far Too Jones-- Shame and Her Sister.
In other news, I spend approximately 40 hours a week emailing and calling random people all over the US. Given that the reason I call them is always music-related, I feel like it is only a matter of time until I contact someone I actually know. Yesterday I dialed (for work!) a 606 area code and had to fight the urge to tell the person I used to live where they do. But what this means is that I called someone who is probably IN the county I worked in last summer (composed of 799 other people) because they listen to one of our top-selling bands... and I didn't even tell them I'm a pretend Kentucky-girl at heart.
Last year fourth of July was so ridiculous...
I miss Kentucky, and I miss my family;
Oh, the sweetest winds they blow across the South.
~Tadpole.
Jade Puget: "I'd build a lifeboat out of sand."
Davey Havok: "Wait... what?"
Today my boss asked me what my desert island albums are. It's an extremely valid question-- I gave him a quick top 5, but the more I thought about what my mental state would probably be if stuck on a desert island, the more unsure I became about my answer. So I decided the point of the question is to see which albums I could listen to over and over and not which albums I would want with me in times of great mental distress and potential scorching sunburns.
So here's the answer. Again, this isn't an all-time list. But if I was dropped onto an island in the Pacific Ocean tomorrow, all alone, this is what I would want to have with me.
1. Sing The Sorrow-- AFI. It's a classic, what can I say?
2. A Beautiful Lie-- 30 Seconds To Mars. How long have I owned this album now and still find myself listening to it at least once a week??
3. Light Grenades-- Incubus. Catchy hooks like "Anna Molly" (say it out loud, you'll get it eventually) plus emotional ballads like "Earth To Bella" combine to make an astoundingly good 5th album, definitely their overall best.
4. Truth, Soul, Rock and Roll-- The Elms. They've been my favorite band for... well, as long as I've HAD a favorite band, and this album from 2003 takes the cake as their best.
5. Between The Dim And The Dark-- Jump Little Children. Mellow but exotic... it reminds me of the taste of cigars and cherry coke, and there's not a song on it that fails.
Honorable Mentions:
Whiskeytown-- Pneumonia.
The Weepies-- Say I Am You.
The Sounds-- Living In America.
Pete Yorn-- MusicForTheMorningAfter.
Far Too Jones-- Shame and Her Sister.
In other news, I spend approximately 40 hours a week emailing and calling random people all over the US. Given that the reason I call them is always music-related, I feel like it is only a matter of time until I contact someone I actually know. Yesterday I dialed (for work!) a 606 area code and had to fight the urge to tell the person I used to live where they do. But what this means is that I called someone who is probably IN the county I worked in last summer (composed of 799 other people) because they listen to one of our top-selling bands... and I didn't even tell them I'm a pretend Kentucky-girl at heart.
Last year fourth of July was so ridiculous...
I miss Kentucky, and I miss my family;
Oh, the sweetest winds they blow across the South.
~Tadpole.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Exchanging Sunshine...
What a weekend... things have been crazy for the last week out here in the plastic world of rock. Last week I was in the office till 7pm every night, then Friday kicked off the Lucky 13th Warped Tour, which meant absolute MADNESS.
Friday morning I drove to Pomona with the other intern in her car packed full of Immortal Records and Scary Kids Scaring Kids merch. I was on the phone with my boss every ten minutes on the way there, either because we were lost or he was checking in on us, then when we arrived guest services slapped wristbands on us and the mayhem commenced.
The Immortal merch guy called me and we met him in the bus lot, where we loaded the extra t-shirts and CDs into someone else's trailer (on rehearsal night our band's trailer broke, so now they are sharing with some random band, leading my boss to joke that he is going to quit our label and form his own, called Eleventh Hour Records) and then schlepped to the Immortal tent. Once we arrived, the merch guy left to get lunch, and I was left manning the tent. Flashback to two summers ago, when I spent every evening selling another band's merch to middle-schoolers who rocked my world. But this is what I love to do, so rock on. I could hear Boys Like Girls playing from the Hurley stage behind me, and pretty soon Yellowcard took the stage in front of the tent, announcing that it was 107degrees out. Two years ago when I was selling merch and all around being a groupie, when we had weather like that my boss would make us all drink two glasses of water at breakfast before we were allowed to get up from the table. Warped Tour 2007 didn't even have free water, even for employees. BUT Monster energy drinks were there for free, leading to every college student's worst nightmare: do I drink a Monster, which will keep me headbanging for the rest of the day, cool me down, AND is free? Or do I pay five dollars for a small bottle of water? I started out with Monsters, but pretty soon both me and the merch guy were shaking from all the sugar and caffeine and the significant dearth of water in us. There are no words for how hot 107degrees in the California desert is... Oh, yes, I've been hotter, but picture it: we're on a DIRT fairground in the middle of the desert; there are 11,000 kids there dressed in head-to-toe black; hardly any water kiosks to be found, and the ones that ARE still around are almost out of $5 bottles, and now the desert wind is picking up, throwing dust all over our sweaty bodies. I sweated through my tank top while carrying the shirts to the tent and spent the rest of the day slippery. My hair was soaked from the roots downward, my knees stained from kneeling on the ground to fold shirts, and I was loving every minute. Later on when I quit sweating (probably from dehydration, not because it had cooled off) I could feel the crust of dirt on me from the wind. My sunglasses were coated in dust, I was vaguely pink from the sun, and I had a blast. We were all sore from jumping around in mosh pits (I got a few breaks during the day and managed to see most of New Found Glory's set, a few Tiger Army songs until the dust picked up and literally obscured the band, the tail of Anberlin's set AND the entire Scary Kids Scaring Kids show), standing in the hot sun all day, and not eating... well... anything, but it was awesome.
Watching Scary Kids was amazing-- they are signed to the label I work for, and they put on a really fun show. The keyboardist is the most fun to watch; since there are only keyboard parts during the intro to the songs, the rest of the time he spends dancing onstage with mane-like hair, and at the end of the show he grabbed the neckline of his t-shirt and ripped it the shirt off, literally, straight down the front. Pretty much it was amazing.
My boss found out I wanted to come back and offered me the last pass he had for Saturday's show in Ventura, about an hour and a half outside Los Angeles, so Saturday morning I woke up early, dressed in a fresh wifebeater and different shorts, and headed off to Ventura. When I arrived, my boss met me at the gate with an all-access sticker pass and a fresh wristband, which got me in even more places than the band from Friday. I wasn't stopped anywhere I tried to go all day long, which was awesome. Eventually I ended up in the bus area looking for a bathroom that WASN'T a port-a-potty... The bus pen at Warped Tour is almost as big as the grounds for Warped Tour-- 50 bands to transport; each of those bands has a tent with a staff that doesn't ride the band's bus; every record label represented has a tent, and then there are the miscellaneous tents, for skateboard companies, magazines, clothing lines, etc., and don't forget about the trucks for equipment-- there are FIVE stages going at all times on the tour. All the big bands hang out in the bus area until it's time for their set, which I knew, but really all I cared about was finding a [semi]clean bathroom. I ran into the lead singer of Coheed & Cambria, a pretty big band that I can't stand, but the lead singer is recognizable a mile away by his huge curly hair. In trying to get back OUT of the bus pen, I walked through a gate I thought would take me to the main grounds, looked to the left, and realized I was at in the backstage area of the stage where Bad Religion was playing... Oh, yes, that's right, THE Bad Religion, like, from 1984. They came out with a new album about a month ago, and they definitely take the cake as the oldest act on the tour. There are bands on this tour who weren't even BORN when Bad Religion was already recording! I mean, they're legendary. (And they're actually not nearly as hardcore as that name makes them sound.)
I made my way back to the Immortal tent, where one of the guys from the label had just arrived with his 2 year old in a stroller with soundproof headphones. We all hung out for a few minutes, and then... sniff sniff... "What's that smell?" the merch guy asked.
"Oh no..." I murmured, recognizing it from my days of living in a frat house with interconnected vents. The guy from the label left with his son, and pretty soon the smell drifted away. About an hour later, the band at the tent next to ours arrived at their tent to do a signing... and the smell returned. They left... and so did the smell. They came back a few hours later to prep for their set on the Hurley stage, and... oh, yes, so did the smell. So rock on, As Cities Burn. And know that you smell strong enough that you nearly hotboxed the tent NEXT to your own.
Oh, and just so you know I haven't fallen completely victim to the scene, here's proof I am still the same awkward thirteen-year-old in a twenty-one-year-old's body:
I'm standing at the merch table, chilling by myself, when this guy walks by. He doesn't even pay attention to our tent, he's just walking by. But I look up and see him (I must have made eye contact-- I HOPE I made eye contact first), and I recognized him. That NEVER happens to me in Southern California. In fact, that hasn't happened to me since last summer when I was living in Southeastern Kentucky. So I opened my mouth and out came
"Hey! I saw--"
[at that point I realized I had no idea what to say]
"your band..."
[at that point I realized I forgot the band's name]
"last week at..."
[at that point I realized I had forgotten the name of the venue]
"the... the..."
[at that point I realized there was no non-awkward way out of the encounter]
"KNITTING FACTORY! Yeah, the knitting factory... last week."
I got a confused look from the guy, and I realized I had left out the key part of the anecdote.
"And you guys were really amazing!" I finished enthusiastically.
"Thanks....?" he said bewilderedly. "I'm... so glad you came?" he said, clearly having no idea how to handle being RECOGNIZED by a Warped Tour employee. "We, uh... we hope to see you again."
Here is why this was awkward, besides the obvious:
1. His band is unsigned. The gig I saw them at was their first in nine months.
2. They are a local LA band, and most of the Warped Tour staff (which is what he thought I was) is not from California, which is why he was so confused about being recognized.
3. He's not even the lead singer; he was only the bassist. Granted, I usually pay more attention to the bassists than anyone else onstage, but still. I am highly doubting he's ever been recognized for his BAND.
And then suddenly there's this sweaty emo girl telling him his band was amazing when opening for someone else's CD release party in the middle of the week at a tiny venue in the middle of Hollywood. Awkward.
You can take the girl out of middle school, but you can't take the middle-schooler out of the girl...
Nevertheless, I've fallen in love with those four magical words: "I'm on the list."
For blue eyes, and dark skies...
~B
Friday morning I drove to Pomona with the other intern in her car packed full of Immortal Records and Scary Kids Scaring Kids merch. I was on the phone with my boss every ten minutes on the way there, either because we were lost or he was checking in on us, then when we arrived guest services slapped wristbands on us and the mayhem commenced.
The Immortal merch guy called me and we met him in the bus lot, where we loaded the extra t-shirts and CDs into someone else's trailer (on rehearsal night our band's trailer broke, so now they are sharing with some random band, leading my boss to joke that he is going to quit our label and form his own, called Eleventh Hour Records) and then schlepped to the Immortal tent. Once we arrived, the merch guy left to get lunch, and I was left manning the tent. Flashback to two summers ago, when I spent every evening selling another band's merch to middle-schoolers who rocked my world. But this is what I love to do, so rock on. I could hear Boys Like Girls playing from the Hurley stage behind me, and pretty soon Yellowcard took the stage in front of the tent, announcing that it was 107degrees out. Two years ago when I was selling merch and all around being a groupie, when we had weather like that my boss would make us all drink two glasses of water at breakfast before we were allowed to get up from the table. Warped Tour 2007 didn't even have free water, even for employees. BUT Monster energy drinks were there for free, leading to every college student's worst nightmare: do I drink a Monster, which will keep me headbanging for the rest of the day, cool me down, AND is free? Or do I pay five dollars for a small bottle of water? I started out with Monsters, but pretty soon both me and the merch guy were shaking from all the sugar and caffeine and the significant dearth of water in us. There are no words for how hot 107degrees in the California desert is... Oh, yes, I've been hotter, but picture it: we're on a DIRT fairground in the middle of the desert; there are 11,000 kids there dressed in head-to-toe black; hardly any water kiosks to be found, and the ones that ARE still around are almost out of $5 bottles, and now the desert wind is picking up, throwing dust all over our sweaty bodies. I sweated through my tank top while carrying the shirts to the tent and spent the rest of the day slippery. My hair was soaked from the roots downward, my knees stained from kneeling on the ground to fold shirts, and I was loving every minute. Later on when I quit sweating (probably from dehydration, not because it had cooled off) I could feel the crust of dirt on me from the wind. My sunglasses were coated in dust, I was vaguely pink from the sun, and I had a blast. We were all sore from jumping around in mosh pits (I got a few breaks during the day and managed to see most of New Found Glory's set, a few Tiger Army songs until the dust picked up and literally obscured the band, the tail of Anberlin's set AND the entire Scary Kids Scaring Kids show), standing in the hot sun all day, and not eating... well... anything, but it was awesome.
Watching Scary Kids was amazing-- they are signed to the label I work for, and they put on a really fun show. The keyboardist is the most fun to watch; since there are only keyboard parts during the intro to the songs, the rest of the time he spends dancing onstage with mane-like hair, and at the end of the show he grabbed the neckline of his t-shirt and ripped it the shirt off, literally, straight down the front. Pretty much it was amazing.
My boss found out I wanted to come back and offered me the last pass he had for Saturday's show in Ventura, about an hour and a half outside Los Angeles, so Saturday morning I woke up early, dressed in a fresh wifebeater and different shorts, and headed off to Ventura. When I arrived, my boss met me at the gate with an all-access sticker pass and a fresh wristband, which got me in even more places than the band from Friday. I wasn't stopped anywhere I tried to go all day long, which was awesome. Eventually I ended up in the bus area looking for a bathroom that WASN'T a port-a-potty... The bus pen at Warped Tour is almost as big as the grounds for Warped Tour-- 50 bands to transport; each of those bands has a tent with a staff that doesn't ride the band's bus; every record label represented has a tent, and then there are the miscellaneous tents, for skateboard companies, magazines, clothing lines, etc., and don't forget about the trucks for equipment-- there are FIVE stages going at all times on the tour. All the big bands hang out in the bus area until it's time for their set, which I knew, but really all I cared about was finding a [semi]clean bathroom. I ran into the lead singer of Coheed & Cambria, a pretty big band that I can't stand, but the lead singer is recognizable a mile away by his huge curly hair. In trying to get back OUT of the bus pen, I walked through a gate I thought would take me to the main grounds, looked to the left, and realized I was at in the backstage area of the stage where Bad Religion was playing... Oh, yes, that's right, THE Bad Religion, like, from 1984. They came out with a new album about a month ago, and they definitely take the cake as the oldest act on the tour. There are bands on this tour who weren't even BORN when Bad Religion was already recording! I mean, they're legendary. (And they're actually not nearly as hardcore as that name makes them sound.)
I made my way back to the Immortal tent, where one of the guys from the label had just arrived with his 2 year old in a stroller with soundproof headphones. We all hung out for a few minutes, and then... sniff sniff... "What's that smell?" the merch guy asked.
"Oh no..." I murmured, recognizing it from my days of living in a frat house with interconnected vents. The guy from the label left with his son, and pretty soon the smell drifted away. About an hour later, the band at the tent next to ours arrived at their tent to do a signing... and the smell returned. They left... and so did the smell. They came back a few hours later to prep for their set on the Hurley stage, and... oh, yes, so did the smell. So rock on, As Cities Burn. And know that you smell strong enough that you nearly hotboxed the tent NEXT to your own.
Oh, and just so you know I haven't fallen completely victim to the scene, here's proof I am still the same awkward thirteen-year-old in a twenty-one-year-old's body:
I'm standing at the merch table, chilling by myself, when this guy walks by. He doesn't even pay attention to our tent, he's just walking by. But I look up and see him (I must have made eye contact-- I HOPE I made eye contact first), and I recognized him. That NEVER happens to me in Southern California. In fact, that hasn't happened to me since last summer when I was living in Southeastern Kentucky. So I opened my mouth and out came
"Hey! I saw--"
[at that point I realized I had no idea what to say]
"your band..."
[at that point I realized I forgot the band's name]
"last week at..."
[at that point I realized I had forgotten the name of the venue]
"the... the..."
[at that point I realized there was no non-awkward way out of the encounter]
"KNITTING FACTORY! Yeah, the knitting factory... last week."
I got a confused look from the guy, and I realized I had left out the key part of the anecdote.
"And you guys were really amazing!" I finished enthusiastically.
"Thanks....?" he said bewilderedly. "I'm... so glad you came?" he said, clearly having no idea how to handle being RECOGNIZED by a Warped Tour employee. "We, uh... we hope to see you again."
Here is why this was awkward, besides the obvious:
1. His band is unsigned. The gig I saw them at was their first in nine months.
2. They are a local LA band, and most of the Warped Tour staff (which is what he thought I was) is not from California, which is why he was so confused about being recognized.
3. He's not even the lead singer; he was only the bassist. Granted, I usually pay more attention to the bassists than anyone else onstage, but still. I am highly doubting he's ever been recognized for his BAND.
And then suddenly there's this sweaty emo girl telling him his band was amazing when opening for someone else's CD release party in the middle of the week at a tiny venue in the middle of Hollywood. Awkward.
You can take the girl out of middle school, but you can't take the middle-schooler out of the girl...
Nevertheless, I've fallen in love with those four magical words: "I'm on the list."
For blue eyes, and dark skies...
~B
Time for another...
"10, 9, 8, and I'm breaking away..."
~Shiny Toy Guns
People keep asking me who my favorite bands are. The more I do music, the more I have no idea. So here is, instead, a list of my top 10 music videos, complete with links to go view them at your leisure. Don't watch them, you won't enjoy them if you are over 40. Except for #2. Watch that one. And then go out and buy the album.
[Compiler's note: I don't actually watch a lot of music videos, and when I do, my standards are pretty high. So this isn't an all-time list... it's just recently.]
10. "We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands"-- The Academy Is... TWO William Becketts? I think I could handle that, and the Pete Wentz cameo is pretty amazing.
9. "Are You In?"-- Incubus. This one really only makes the list because I want to be one of the girls in the video. And because the singer has a four-and-a-half octave vocal range.
8. "Move Along"-- The All-American Rejects. That black shirt the lead singer wears when singing in the pool? Yeah, I have the same one.
7. "Silver and Cold"-- AFI. Filmed in Prague. I've been there, it really does look like this.
6. "All That I've Got"-- The Used. I won't lie, after 30 Seconds to Mars perfected the old-scary-house video, this one kind of faded in awesomeness, but it's still a classic.
5. "My Darkest Hour"-- Scary Kids Scaring Kids. They're on my label, but the video is hilarious only because it may as well be me and my friends in that car.
3. "I Write Sins Not Tragedies"-- Panic! At the Disco. Eyes painted on eyelids? I'm always a sucker for a circus in a church.
2. "Stateside"-- Hot Rod Circuit. I have been watching this video for weeks at work now, since way before it was released, and I STILL can't watch it without getting the giggles. Current favorite part: the looks on the band's faces at the doctor's office.
1. "From Yesterday"-- 30 Seconds To Mars. This "epic" is nearly fifteen minutes of fist-in-the-air, hair-in-the-face, black-clothed, fireworks-and-subtitles emo goodness.
As I said, you should probably not watch them, mainly because if you do, you too are likely to start piercing random parts of your face, growing your hair into a swoop, and wearing nothing but Chuck Taylor's and concert tees. But do watch number two. You won't regret it.
Cinematic!
~B
~Shiny Toy Guns
People keep asking me who my favorite bands are. The more I do music, the more I have no idea. So here is, instead, a list of my top 10 music videos, complete with links to go view them at your leisure. Don't watch them, you won't enjoy them if you are over 40. Except for #2. Watch that one. And then go out and buy the album.
[Compiler's note: I don't actually watch a lot of music videos, and when I do, my standards are pretty high. So this isn't an all-time list... it's just recently.]
10. "We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands"-- The Academy Is... TWO William Becketts? I think I could handle that, and the Pete Wentz cameo is pretty amazing.
9. "Are You In?"-- Incubus. This one really only makes the list because I want to be one of the girls in the video. And because the singer has a four-and-a-half octave vocal range.
8. "Move Along"-- The All-American Rejects. That black shirt the lead singer wears when singing in the pool? Yeah, I have the same one.
7. "Silver and Cold"-- AFI. Filmed in Prague. I've been there, it really does look like this.
6. "All That I've Got"-- The Used. I won't lie, after 30 Seconds to Mars perfected the old-scary-house video, this one kind of faded in awesomeness, but it's still a classic.
5. "My Darkest Hour"-- Scary Kids Scaring Kids. They're on my label, but the video is hilarious only because it may as well be me and my friends in that car.
3. "I Write Sins Not Tragedies"-- Panic! At the Disco. Eyes painted on eyelids? I'm always a sucker for a circus in a church.
2. "Stateside"-- Hot Rod Circuit. I have been watching this video for weeks at work now, since way before it was released, and I STILL can't watch it without getting the giggles. Current favorite part: the looks on the band's faces at the doctor's office.
1. "From Yesterday"-- 30 Seconds To Mars. This "epic" is nearly fifteen minutes of fist-in-the-air, hair-in-the-face, black-clothed, fireworks-and-subtitles emo goodness.
As I said, you should probably not watch them, mainly because if you do, you too are likely to start piercing random parts of your face, growing your hair into a swoop, and wearing nothing but Chuck Taylor's and concert tees. But do watch number two. You won't regret it.
Cinematic!
~B
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