youguys!okso..., luvvv michael

raving (ravvving) is a big part of my soul. like there is the outer, everyday me that likes blankets and dvd's and tomato soup, then there's the inner, spunky me that likes ecstasy, glow sticks, and glitter. we have these raves in my basement with my shitty little strobe purchased from spencers. it does a surprising good job if it is in a tiny room with a lot of people, which is how the best raves take place anyways. 

if I could (which I can, because this is my (and chloe's) blog), I would just like to say that there is no one that rivals me at making rave playlists, save for deadmau5. like, the capacity my brain has for understanding how much fun a song can be when you throw in 22 sweaty bodies and a strobe is unlimited. there are some easy cheats. anything dj rusko or kid sister (or, OMG BOTH [aka the rusko remix of pro nails]) has breathed on will probs be fucking fantastic, same goes for any type of mash-up. you wanna have a nice mix of elecroshit and superheavy-but-not-slow southern rap, familiar pop jamz, and remixes/refixes/reedits of oldies set for the dancefloor.

I am currently prepping for a rave that will most likely take place on the 28th. some goodies/spoilers:

-abc by jackson 5 (immunikization blend)

-WTF by tittsworth, kid sis, & pase rock (nadastorm on drugs remix)

-lil wayne v. sleigh bells (OMG CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE?!?!)

-trigga trey (for those slower ravvvin jamz type of people.)

-hood internet mixtapes 1-4 (umfuckyeah)

-I'm toying with the idea of take on me by a-ha or young turks by rod stewart, but I'm not sure of the reaction this 80's crystal gems will warrant. thoughts?

-100% 4SURE: (THIS IS IT) THE DREAM OF EVAN & CHAN by DNTEL feat. BEN GIBBARD

-then the basics (kanye remixes, diplo's fucking weird blog songs, dan deacon if the company can handle it, paper route gangstaz duhhhhhh, discovery (aka va va vampire riot), shake it to the ground (a staple in ANY dance-type situation), hot chip, and of course, party & bullshit in the USA.)

any tips? tricks? treats?

today, in the operating room in the midst of a cardiac surgery, i got my period. funny how a hospital had no feminine products that anyone of the dozen people i asked could find. hey, brit, do you have anything? britney returned a few minutes later with a fistful of gauze. really? were i at home i'd be asleep and have one hundred percent less gauze up my vagina.

is this what adults do for fun? i was in that bar dancing with two doctors, three dentists, two students, and one peruvian, until one in the morning. and it was okay. but maybe i'd have had a better time just fucking around with my friends or parents or even watching some cartoon network scooby-doo movie marathon. but i can't just sit there and watch women that i really like and respect dance like that to vie for the attention of a twenty year old boy, blaming it on the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol. i couldn't participate, i couldn't pose for those pictures. not without getting in trouble from the police for distributing child pornography or something. how can they be so drunk when i drank the same amount as they did, and i hadn't had any alcohol ever in my life until last monday, when they have been drinking for years? i felt barely anything. so, that's just not where i belong. clubs and bars and tank tops with skinny jeans and heels. i was sitting there in my no deachunter teeshirt and ripped up old jeans, no makeup ( i was in the OR all day, why should it matter?). i really do love these people. i've just never felt so young in my life. so this is a learning experience, i'm just learning the kinds of things i wasn't expecting to learn.

!, luv michael

seriously, let's just take a moment to marvel over the sheer grandiosity/total magnificence of funeral. every song, every fucking second of the album is new and shiny and so fucking jovial that it sets my veins on fire. it sounds instantly familiar because it is the aural manifestation of that feeling in your stomach at the beginning of a great night, when there are hours laid out in front of you just waiting to be filled with whatever the fuck kinda fun you feel like. and you have no responsibilities or attachments and shit can go any which way, but not really because how it all ends up is exactly how it was gonna end up in the first place and that is so comforting that you can't stand it. and you are driving with the windows down and the air is sparking and sparkling and swirling around your head and in your lungs and you throw your arms and inhibitions out the window and your heart is pumping and you are screaming that you're alive and you're happy, you're really happy and you're really really alive!

so, great job pfork. you were right.

xpanding da mpire

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wavvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvves, luv michael

my first ever encounter with the band/entity/brosephhhhhh known as wavves, was via gorillavsbear.net. there was some washed out pic of nathynath williams and a link to beach demon. I did a little diggin and found that most tracks had demon or goth added to the end, references to being/getting fucked up aplenty, and  I decided, after a couple listens to vermin (which I still hate to this day) and beach goth, that wavves was shitty and nathan williams was a giant douche. then came the barca-breakdown, which was followed by a barely-there apology stitched to a story of alcohol and drug abuse (HA!), which nearly cemented his astronomically high level of douchbaggery in my mind.

then

after wavvves and after the spanish suckfest, I heard a newly released song (slash demo that might never be expanded on!) called mickey mouse. 

and then

I got it. I understood nathan williams and his jamz-ingly perfect blend of ol dirty bastard and lesley gore and the smell and the marvelettes. and I loved it. the fucked up ooohs through dented mikes and torn up speakers through a million buzzing bees fucking drenched in sun and salt and the heavy smell of marijuana, dripping with pizza grease and TEENAGE NRGY! and the more I got it, the more I loved it and it was a huge cycle that lead to this past friday.

I am in college and for some reason I have yet to make any friends with the same musical tastes as I have, which is fine, it just makes concert-going an interesting experience. but I bought a ticket and I love the band, so I'm going. the night started off in a sketchy manner. I made it downtown on the train and got to the right bus stop. unfortunately, my phone told me that the bus was going to be taking a straight line from my stop to the chopin theatre stop. much to my confusion, we turned south and continued for a long while. the battery on my phone was about to die and I was not about to be stranded somewhere without a phone, so I turned it off. long story short, I ended up getting off a couple stops early, which was fine, but I ended having to walk under the kennedy expressway with all the people who lived under it and it was a little jittery there for a moment. after a couple blocks (oh yeah, in the pouring rain too) I arrived to the theatre. about 46.5 of the 50 people who were going to the show were outside smoking. It was almost magical, walking through that cloud of nicotine, inside the theatre. 

it was a real theatre. with theatre seating. like chairs. for a wavves show. hmmmmm. the opening act spit on the crowd, pretended to smash the front row with a mike stand, and pretty much obliterated the equipment. all while we sat. it was odd. thennnnnnn mr. williams comes in, all 5'4" of him, and fucks shit up. 

"first things first: get the fuck out of your chairs and come down here. stand here, stand there, stand on top of me, I don't give a fuck, but if you unplug something, plug it back in."

um, fuck yeah.

him and fucking zach hill (who beat that kit to death 40 times over) started with so bored, and the party fuckin started. the crowd was a bunch of hyped up teenagers ready for a fucking great, a fucking loud, a fucking WAVVES show and that is what the fuck they got. I thrashed and thrashed and thrashed and my neck is pissed at me for it still, but I swear to god I couldn't help it. the raw energy that was in that little room with all those little people was pure ecstasy. there were arms and sides and heads and HAIR and elbows and legs and we were one throbbing knot of blissed out kids, doing nathan williams' will, personifying the music. and just when it couldn't have gotten crazier, he started playing no hope kids. it was like an instant switch. all of the sudden nathan was ramming his tiny body into the crowd (my stomach) and getting people to sing the oohs for him and everyone was flipping out in the best, most thrashy was possible and my neck broke fifty times but all I could feel was the guitar in my face and the drums at my chest and the endorphins in every atom, buzzing with the bees and dripping with sweat instead of pizza grease. 

and then

I got it more. because wavves is seriously everything that has to do with energy and youthful angst and youthful ignorance and youthful happiness. and it makes sense that I went to an underage show because who else is wavves really meant for? and nathan williams isn't a douchebag in any way. he is a kid and he is human and he is kinda stupid. and he is so sincere but not in a pussy way and he just wants to have a good time. and really, who doesn't?

WAVVES, or HOW I FELL IN LOVE WITH NATHAN WILLIAMS

strip me of my clothes. strip me of my skin. can you see it? you can see my skeleton, right? pressed between my muscle and my sinew and tendons white and burgundy. it starts down at the base of my spine. it is black and viscous and glittering and glorious. it crawls it's way up each vertebrae, worming it's way into my central nervous system. it paints my ribcage and my sternum black, just because it wants so badly to encapsulate my heart. it creates it's shelter, around my vitals, within my chest cavity. i can feel it's pulse, it's heat in my blood, my muscles, my blurred vision. it possesses me completely and informs every decision i make. i can feel it just like that, always starting in my spine, ending in my heart. every time you hear something so perfect that you have no choice but to fall in complete love.

this happens to me, always after i see a band live. it is almost tragic that i become obsessed with bands after the fact. y'know? if i could just see them again, this time around i'll know all the words, promise.

well wavves fucking killed it. like, seriously. we got to the venue roughly forty minutes before the crew was finished setting up so we just chilled i guess, makin' friends. observin'. i swear to fucking god that the nerdiest hipsters on this planet are grinnell hipsters. they each looked like they just found themselves last month. no one really comfortable in his/her hipster shoes yet. i mean, shit, it was kinda cute, y'know? any-fuckin'-how, most the pre-show chitchat surrounded the percentage chance that Wav "nathan williams" Ves would have another complete mental breakdown (we figured between 13-20%), like his ridiculously hyped Barcelona nervous meltdown.

quotable nathanbro: 'If people think that I'm not going to fuck up, then they're wrong. And if they think this is like the last time I'm going to fuck up, they're wrong too. Because I'm young. I'm kinda stupid. I'm human.'

nathanbro's very teenagery apology:'I think in the back of my head I knew I wasn't exactly mentally healthy enough to continue to tour the way I have been since February. Honest truth is this has all happened so fast and I feel like the weight of it has been building for months now with what seems like a never ending touring and press schedule which includes absolutely zero time to myself. I'm sorry to everyone who has put effort into this and to everyone who supported me. Mixing ecstasy valium and xanax before having to play in front of thousands of people was one of the more poor decisions I've made(duh) and I realize my drinking has been a problem now for a good period of time. Nothing else I can do but apologize to everyone that has been affected by my poor decision making. I made a mistake. Not the first mistake I've made and it for sure wont be the last. I'm human. Don't know why I chose the biggest platform I could imagine to lose my shit, but that's life. You live and you learn.'

(thanks p4k!<3<3<3<3)

yeah okay, so maybz this kid has got the rep of douche-iest bro in the indie biz. but i knew it, soon as he walked on stage to set up his pedals and shit. the crowd was probz a little over 50 kids. small, small venue in the basement of a college residence building, right. and between band set up music plays for the crowd and crew bitches who do the amp and drum kit lifting and stuff. well the music that was playing during nathan's set up was like this fuckin' weird '80s mix. i was AMPED up, shit, like WIRED, right, coz i really really do love wavves. i have mad passion for this whole no-fi indie punk scene that's coming out of california right now. so some whitney houston song comes on and me and the geek-chic grinnell hipsters are dancing and being generally very silly. i was in the very front, pressed against the stage along with all the other front-rowers (all girls, go figure, am i right, nathanbro?). the whole situation was a throbbing kinda sweaty "I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY, I WANNA FEEL THE HEAT WITH SOMEBODY" okay? so nathan is setting up his pedals and just singing and dancing along and making eye-contact with us row-one-ers and laughing and being overall jovial. i knew it then, i thought "shit, this kid fuckin' rules, and he has a great sense of humor and isn't even a little douchey". OH, and he is just a little kid, seriously, he is probably 5'3". so fucking cute.

during soundcheck the sound board kept shorting and fucking up, which is where he really lost his 22 year old drug addled shit in Spain, but he was totally chill. he laughed about it and was super polite to soundboardbro. then he, killr punk rock aesthetic in tow, decided to fuck it and went straight into his probz most famous and beloved track 'So Bored'. his mic shorted like a third of the way through, but i could hear him screaming from my spot roughly one foot in front of him and i screamed his lyrics back at him and without all the reverb and effects his voice sounded just like a kid who wanted to have a good fuckin' time. the rest of the show went pretty much like that. just a bunch of kids who wanted to have a good fuckin' time. and when nathanbro stepped away from the mic, he really fucking thrashed, playin' his guitar and smiling, his hair (maybz a mullet) submitting to his head banging. nathan, how do you do it night after night? you gave so into the whole performance, how could you live through this intensity, how is your neck not broken? so the point is i really like nathanbro, he was really chill, and i quite frankly expected spazzzztik behavior. i talked to him after the show to let him know that he fuckin' rulez and that his new shit that's he's put out, like cool jumper, mickey mouse, and my personnnnaaallll favorite song right now hula hoop, are like all completely genius and that he just keeps gettin' better. he seemed to be really complimented and really appreciative of our support. he seemed like a humble chill bro who just likes to perform. he just enjoys making music, and sometimes when you get so way hyped shit gets tough and it gets harder to function in a way that doesn't feel like you're doing what you are contractually obligated to do rather than want you really just wanna do.

so, i love you, nathan williams. you're great and your music is really fuckin' awsome, and you're realllllly fun to see live, and i hope you keep on doing what you're doing so long as it's still what you want to do.

Wavves from TERROREYES.TV on Vimeo.

luvvv, chloe

this is for your ears

i may have mentioned once before that los campesinos! is the lill' white rocks to my burgeoning crack habit. well yesterday they posted a new song, which i assume is off of their upcoming (sophomore? i dunno why they don't consider We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed an LP) record. i didn't know how to feel about this song, The Sea is a Good Place to Think of the Future, when i first heard it. the lyrics are remarkably sad, which is unlike the bitchy-gareth-assault that i am accustomed to. but with each successive listen i like it a little more, and regardless i know they still have the punch i love because of the new track RIB (the song actually begins at 1:08, also note how positively adorbz gareth is whilst singing) which they played live at Lollapalooza. well, anyway, new track: the sea is a good place to think of the future. it really is quite beautiful. you know what. i like it (how could i not?). i might take it to the swings, so's we can get to know eachother a little better.

Luvvv,

chloe

two truths and a lie

my grandmother taught my grandfather how to read. my grandfather threw his seventh grade vice principal out of a second story window, he went to Mckinley. after that, however, he never went back to school. he went to a reform institution, where they used him to test out new tattoo removal techniques. he had two tattoos, one on each forearm. they were both of ribbons. on the ribbon on his right forearm it said "fuck you". this tattoo was cut off. the scar used to be just below his elbow, but since he was thirteen when it was acquired and he has since grown, the scar is now closer to his wrist. the ribbon on his left arm had no text in it, it was burnt off. however, that was unsuccesfull and you can still faintly see it.

my grandmother grew up in california, she was an only child who enjoyed reading superhero comics and eating tar off the streets. she loves minorities and relating everything that has ever happened to her own life. she and my grandfather got married in 1962, they say they waited to get married until african americans got their rights. it was a protest thing. my grandmother is in love with john f kennedy. she used to be a chain smoker. my hands and my grandmother's hands look exactly alike, down to the freckle we both have between our left thumb and forefinger.

my family is entirely normal.

luvvv,

chloe

sex

luvvv,

chloe

boobies luv, michael

finding new music (to me) is like opening presents at mother fucking christmas. In my case, I scrounge the blogs of the net through the excellent conglomerate site, elbo.ws. I find a song by a band I like or one I want to get to know or, hell, one who's name sounds interesting and I right-click, download linked file... and poof. new song. wait like 38 seconds or some shit and it's opening in itunes. omg. the tension and the terror and the anxiety of "will this song be a good one?" "what if this is my new favvie song?" "what if I decide to ultimately delete this song?" I pretty much judge all new music within the first 30-40 seconds of listening. a good beat, intense vocals, maybe an exxxotic instrument? all of these things will wrap me around the song's finger like a pointless scarf around some hipster bitch's neck. 

if it is indeed my new favorite song, three things will happen. first, I will immediately put the song on repeat and listen to it over and over while I do the other two things. second, I will research the song in some way. where did the band come from? are the lyrics any way referencing a serial killer? is there any six-degrees of separation type shit between me and absolutely anything relating to the song or band? I might look up the lyrics, but probs not because I have always been bad with lyrics. even to some of my favorite songs, the lyrics will never fully embed themselves into my brain. thirdly, I will tell every living human I know about this particular song in any way possible. twitter, facebook, phone calls, text messages, youtube vidz, blogging, tattoos, sculpture, billboards; that type of shit. I will beat this song to fucking death until my friends hate me. I will play it in my car and they will start stabbing the nearest speaker. I, however, will blast in my earphones, permanently ingraining the sound waves into my eardrums.

sometimes, I download in bulk. I get on this weird roll where I suddenly have to own every song ever recorded, produced, covered, referenced by a particular band. this will most likely morph into an obsession with bands related to the first band and before I know it I'll have downloaded 89 songs in one night, mostly of bands I've never heard before. obviously, individual attention to individual songs would take copious amounts of time that I'd rather spend watching mad men or project runway or the grindhouse films over and over. this results in me finding a song one or two or three months after I originally downloaded it and becoming infatuated. which will happen when there seems to be a drought in new music.

this post was pointless haha.

you better look out below

I know it is probably horribly trite, but the arcade fire really really drastically altered me (i cleverly avoided saying "changed my life"). I know, everyone loves the arcade fire. but, damnit, they deserve every single word of praise and all devotion thrown their way. I can't feel bitter about their success, I could never abandon them because randies at my school know who they are. Like, the use of "My body is a cage" in the Curious Case of Benjamin Button trailer (that movie fuckin' sux, ohmygod), and more recently "Wake up" in the Where the Wild Things Are trailer (this is my favorite movie, even though I have yet to see it. I knew I loved Ratatouille before I actually saw the film). I am really just so happy for them and their success. I know personally many people who have only experienced Arcade Fire via film previews, like my best friend who cried during the WTWTA (where the wild things are) trailer, "it was so emotional! and that song! it was so pretty". no shit, it's arcade fire. not only that, but wake up is my favorite of all their songs.

Wake up reminds me of my family, everytime we are in the car for a long period of time that song finds its way to the speakers, and everytime time it does so we all have to sing along. sing along i guess is an understatement. we excercize demons through our lungs and mouths singing that song, i feel everything stressful or bad in my life completely fall away. because nothing bad can occupy my body at the same time as that song does. and wake up completely fills me to the brim with emotion and unadulterated happiness.

and live, my god. they are so incredible live. the happiest moment of my life was probably seeing them in Kansas City, a whole goddamn stadium singing along, all feeling it. being filled with everything that that song could possibly mean to anyone. that was the second time i have seen them, and like the first, it was something i will never forget.

in grade seven i got Funeral, arcade fire's first full length. i literally carried that cd on my person everywhere i went. whenever i was hanging out with friends i put that record on in the background. even now i will catch them humming parts of Rebellion, not that they actually know or care what they are actually humming. that album means so much to me, it qualifies an era of my life. oh, i was into that during my arcade fire period.

whenever i lose faith in music, i listen to funeral. it reminds me of how to fall in love.

luvvv,

chloe

padam luv, michael

I wish people could still make the music that edith piaf made. unfortunately, this is impossible. it's so full of life and pomp and it all seemed effortless. the grandeur and the simplicity of the lines, the largeness of the choruses, the total "everybody join in, now!" endings. the pure warbling beauty that is her voice alone.  it is all so deliciously french, from the horns to the strings to the attitude. in fact, maybe it's just plain delicious. music you can listen to, dance to, fall in love to. and, seriously, no one can roll their r's like edith. check la foule for that shit. I was introduced to her music through the miraculously perfect acting that was marion cotillard in 2007's la mome aka la vie en rose. the striking grandiosity of the music juxtaposed with the frantic mess that was piaf's life drew me in like lil hipster bitches to a panda bear show. she kind of talk-sings and then she belts(!) and then she kind of meanders along, indulging the audience (and herself) and then she growls and then she sings. that woman could do anything with her voice; she could take it anywhere. 

and I would follow.

Hello my name is....

Beginning of the school year. I am a scene-yuh now, but all my teachers still think I'm five. All of this "get to know you" bullshit. It is emotionally draining, I can't sit and list my favorite things for every single class. But since you and I don't hardly know each other yet, this being only our third date, I might start with the basics.

MY NAME IS CHLOE. I AM THE BEST.
I LIKE THIS, THIS, THIS, THIS, AND THIS.

THIS IS MY WIFE.

THIS IS MY FAVIE COLOR.

YUMMMMM.

I AM EXCITED TO SEE THIS.

and i love you so much ;)

brgt eez luv, michael

land locked blues by bright eyes from the album I'm wide awake it's morning is the most perfect song there is. the formula( which really isn't a formula because, really, conor oberst doesn't subscribe to that bullshit) is simple and gorgeous. just conor and a guitar. then conor and emmylou harris and a guitar. then a guitar interlude. then some more beautiful and simple harmonies. and all of a sudden, before you know it, the song got loud and desperate and startlingly big. and then, before you know it again, there's taps playing ?! I mean taps?! how would one even think of putting taps(?!) in a song that starts off with one guitar? 

the music and the lyrics and emmylou and taps(?!) and the whole gigantic build up and the feeeeeling you get. most perfect song ever.

conor oberst is has roughly 1000% more genius than about 98% of musicians. roughly.

and lyrics at the end of blogposts are douche-y but I'm doing it anywayz because they are worth it.

..................................................................................................

if you walk away, I’ll walk away. first tell me which road you will take, I don’t want to risk our paths crossing some day. so you walk that way, I’ll walk this way.

and the future hangs over our heads and it moves with each current event until it falls all around like a cold steady rain. just stay in when it’s looking this way.

and the moon’s laying low in the sky forcing everything metal to shine and the sidewalk holds diamonds like the jewelry store case. they argue, "walk this way," "no, walk this way."

and Laura’s asleep in my bed. as I’m leaving she wakes up and says, “I dreamed you were carried away on the crest of a wave. baby don’t go away, come here.”

and there’s kids playing guns in the street and ones pointing his tree branch at me. so I put my hands up, I say “enough is enough, if you walk away, I’ll walk away." and he shot me dead.

I found a liquid cure from my landlocked blues. it’ll pass away like a slow parade, it’s leaving but I don’t know how soon .

and the world’s got me dizzy again, you think after 22 years I’d be used to the spin. and it only feels worse when I stay in one place so I’m always pacing around or walking away.

I keep drinking the ink from my pen and I’m balancing history books up on my head. but it all boils down to one quotable phrase: if you love something, give it away.

a good woman will pick you apart, a box full of suggestions for your possible heart. but you may be offended and you may be afraid, but don’t walk away, don’t walk away.

we made love on the living room floor with the noise in the background of a televised war and in the deafening pleasure I thought I heard someone say, “if we walk away, they’ll walk away.”

but greed is a bottomless pit and our freedom’s a joke, we’re just taking a piss. and the whole world must watch the sad comic display. if you’re still free start running away, cause we’re coming for you!

I’ve grown tired of holding this pose. I feel more like a stranger each time I come home, so I’m making a deal with the devils of fame, saying “let me walk away, please." 

you’ll be free child, once you have died, from the shackles of language and measurable time. and then we can trade places, play musical graves. till then, walk away, walk away

so I’m up at dawn, putting on my shoes. I just want to make a clean escape, I’m leaving, but I don’t know where to. I know I’m leaving, but I don’t know where to.

Honey, Darling, Sugar, Sweetheart, Doll-face

There are girls, I suppose, who wear high-heels to school. But these girls make me cringe, sort of. These girls are lady-douches. And it breaks my heart, it really does, because all that I want is to be able to wear heels. And dresses and pencil skirts made of tweed. Small steps can be taken, nail polish, lipstick, plastic pearl earrings, but really my wardrobe is still all old stretched out men's punk band teeshirts and abused jeans. And the thing is that I'm not quite ready to let go of that. I'm culturally confused, caught between Karen O and Grace Kelly. And that is not a fucking easy spectrum to fall in. I want noir language, and romance. I want my life to read like a J.D. Salinger book without the goddamn suicidal tendencies. And I want all of this whilst listening to the Clash.

In black and white movies, everyone was beautiful. How was it that people spoke so differently? Was it only in cinema? Did everyone have that formal drawl? Wasn't a good portion of Casablanca adlibbed? I want that accent, for those kinds of words to come to mind before anything I heard on the television today. Everyone was beautiful until they weren't, and the thing that went wrong with us is fucking identifiable. I don't feel bad for how much I can't stand hippies because they, like Jack White (seriously, step away from the musical instruments), destroy every goddamn thing they touch. Hippies ruined beauty, they were a bunch of broken kids who took drugs out normal fucking angst and suddenly it all makes sense? what's that, the only way to fight the fucking man is to live in the streets and fuck eachother until everyone is diseased and sex is ruined for everybody for the rest of goddamn history? good plan. and let's fight stereotypes and racism by being really really really really dirty and never changing our clothes. let's call everyone who is beautiful square, until no one takes the time to be beautiful anymore. Hippies are everything that went wrong with culture, same as Led Zeppelin is everything that went wrong with Rock n' Roll.

So let's do the real punk rock thing and fight back against society in a way that isn't damaging to the cultural character of the country. Let's step back a few decades and forget about the free-love transgression. I propose that we get fucking glamorous again. This isn't my looking pretty attracting boys, not trying to be sexy. There's a difference between being sexy and being sexual. and I'm nothing if not sexual. this is for me and what i want and if i may be so bold as to suggest that it should be what you want too.

so get your fucking ass to banana republic.
and probably buy some fucking pixies albums.

luvvv,
chloe

spelling and classification (luv, michael)

I am weird, this is not about music really at all. it is 2:38 am and I am sitting on the top bunk looking out the window at the alley behind the building and the streetlights bouncing off of the rain puddles left over from earlier. and all I can think about is spelling. 

I think people should always spell things correctly and if they don't know how to spell a word, then they shouldn't use it. seriously, with the all the spellcheck programs and internet dictionaries, there are no excuses for incorrect spellings. if you can't spell mellifluous, then use musical. like, seriously.

even worse are the quick misspellings like "teh," "agian," & "liek." really, myspace user? you couldn't spend like 15 seconds reviewing what you just typed before clicking enter? must you litter the internet with your apparent retardation?

I get pissed off the most when people commit the inexcusable grammatical error of choosing the wrong your/you're or their/there/they're. these are simple, logical rules that anyone with a computer should be able to follow. every time some loser leaves a "your welcome" on my facebook wall, I want to type back "my welcome? really? did I loose it somewhere? are you returning it to me?" then punch them in the stomach. please get it right.

now, as I am sure you have noticed, I get a kick out of the occasional "z" in place of an "s," the phrase "truluvvv, "and repeated lettersssssssssss. they add a stress that italics can not do themselves. the "z's" are purely ironic, although I'm afraid they may have seeped into my everyday keyboard vocabulary. and truluvvv is just common sense.

this post is pure bullshit. I apologize. but, while I may or may not still have your attention, chloe and I are starting a campaign to make our generation classier. we're not just talking about maybe cutting back on guys per night, but total transformation. gold cigarette holders, red lips, parted hair, suits, oxfords, heels, gender discrimination. the works. p.s. this is totally inspired by mad men aka the sexiest series since joanie loves chachi

blah blah bon iver luv, michael

I realize that everyone in the entire world knows the story of how for emma, forever ago was created. justin and his heartbreak and the cabin and the winter and the amazing record that came from it all blah blah blah blah blah. but it is so beautiful and romantic and achingly real that it will never be played out. seriously, every time I hear any single song from that record, I fill up with feelings that, as fucking tender as it is, I've never felt before when listening to music. vernon's voice is just so desperate and calm and waveringly solid, if that jumble of paradoxes makes any sense. this isn't a rock star trying to make his next album or even some indie guy with a guitar trying to capture the attention of the blogosphere. the album feels like it almost wasn't a choice for vernon to write it. it's like he had to, or it burst out of him, or it floated out of him, or something. and sometimes he had the reins and it's all soft and bubbling. and sometimes he couldn't control the music twisting and grinding out of him and he yells and it is beautiful and something inside of my stomach unknots. because this music is true and strong and even soft.

with all your lies, you're still very lovable.

#4 luv, michael

so chloe and I have different tastes in music aka chloe's taste pales in comparison to my own.

so here's the deal. a fine frenzy has new music out in preperation for bomb in a birdcage, her second album. and things are looking reallllllllllllllly good. I loved almost every song on one cell in the sea, but it was hard to listen attentively to the entire album. it wasn't quite gauzy, but maybe just cloudy? anywayzzzzzz, her first single from the new album, blow away, is not gauzy or cloudy. it is kinda up-tempo and just full of happiness. the lyrics are, as a fine frenzy's always are, satisfyingly perfect. each word is meant to go where it is and that's just how it works with her. bird of summer, a leaked song from the same album, has more of the softer feel of one cell in the sea, and truly, it is just as beautiful. in fact, it would probably have been a stand-out if it would have been on the first album.

and I am currently obsessed with hope there's someone by antony and the johnsons (thanks pitchfork!) and sweet dreams by beyonce (thanks MTVasia!)

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah bl

lollllllllllllllllllllllllllla (luv, michael)

hello.

first of all, I want to address chloe. you are a fantastic writer, stop second guessing.

second of all, I want to talk about the no deachunter show in madison. it was pure electricity like for real. I had this weird image in my mind of like a dark room with mr. deacon's music pulsating and a whole bunch of hipster kiddies bobbin' along. well, it wasn't like that. it was outside and the crowd was a fucking living organism, throbbing and morphing and lunging and it was amazing. I think I was off my feet, floating, more often than I was touching the ground and all the while being serenaded (ha) by bradford and dean and randy and dan and the other 3 deerhunter guys (sorry!). at one point my id fell out of my pocket, luckily during a break between songs, and I scrambled to grab it before it got lost in the twisted masses. being an almost-concert-virgin, I kind of thought this was par for the course until consulting with my lovely colleague chloe. nope, this was really fucking intense. I was happy, because I felt like a total pussy for being exhausted after like 7 songs. so we stepped out just in time to have bradford and dan scold the crowd for being too douche-y and violent. after a couple of dan's notorious crowd games, we got back in for the rest of the night. it was amazing and after a lifetime of indifference towards no age, I began to love love them. and deerhunter and it's ugly frontman, bradford cox.

thirdsies, day one of lolla. bon iver in the rain is the definition of romance for most little indie bitches, and I was not to be counted out. justin's already reeling voice seemed ten times more, his falsetto howl hitting new levels of desperation. the whole set was just beautiful and ending with a 7 minute feedback freakout during creature fear was definitely a good choice. heading over to the other side of the park for crystal castles was both freeeeezing and slippery. weathering the mudslides and mini swamps, we finally made it to the already packed stage to be greeted, much like a hostess at red lobster, by a veteran pot-smoking show-goer. he was nice and full of stories and large. and generally odd, so we left him asap. we kinda pushed up a little, but we saw most of the show from the back. this was actually fine because we got to see every single one of alice glass' antics. like, seriously, is the primary reason anyone attends a crystal castles show for the music? no. it is the tiny insane hurricane that is alice glass. she punches and screams and kicks and drinks and bitches and yells (and throws drum kits!). aka, she puts on a great fucking show. the music is just so raw and blippy and jarring and it makes you want to fucking DANCE! so we did. thennnnnn came of montreal and the weird people at the show. I have to admit that I was a little annoyed with the people around us at first. there were so many marijuana cigarettes all around, and drunkenly urinating girls and unbrella ho's and superdouchey conversations about superhip members of supermeaningful bands (fuck panda bear bro, geologist is where it's at!). but once kevin barnes and his acting troupe hit the stage, we suddenly became ohana (hahaha). of montreal truly puts on an energizing and entertaining show, even if I don't get like 87% of the shit going down. then, omg, JANELLE MONAE shows up and straight up murders me. like, I love this woman, love love lvoelvoelvoeveovlevoelvelloeveovollololeeevvv her. I died, 100%. so yeah, of montreal rocked. we made our way over to crookers and bathed in their heart attack music. I went crazy. I am at fucking lollapalooza, I'm not gonna try to act cool and 'bob' with the beat while my bitch (chloe) drops it the fuck down. like I might have even crumped a lil, I don't know, I don't think I was fully conscious. then kid cudi came on and we pushed up and it was such a great end to the day. he was way nice and friendly and relatable, even though I totally should not be able to relate to him. day'n'nite was a capella then sing along then crookers freak out then back to the original and it was just how it should have been.

it is 1:30 am and I have to get up at 8 soooooooooooooo... I will finish this l8a.

ha

Lollapalooza Two-Thousand and Nine: A Love Story

It rained on Friday, and more likely than anything else it's that residual moisture that kept the clouds of smoke hanging midair, rather than billowing up like they ought to have done. I read the plumes like smoke signals above the crowd. Cigarettes passed between friends; blunts passed between strangers. I'm no hippie, but the generosity of the whole situation really fucking got me going. Then again, I'm the most emotional person I've ever met.
It was later, like Sunday, and I was still looking for meaning in my surroundings, trading in smoke for peeling skin. The sun was so hot that I knew that I'd feel as though I were running a fever for the next week. I stood pressed against glamorous hipsters (Don't fucking act like hipsters aren't glamorous. They're the goddamn best. Unless they're ironic.) with mullets, hundreds of flailing sunburns. During Bat for Lashes I stared straight ahead at some man's shoulder blades; his burgeoning melanoma. I think that it was then, whilst watching the only performance I didn't entirely enjoy (Don't fucking defend that woman, either. Daniel sucks.) that I realized how goddamn miserable it can really be standing next to strangers who's sweat creeps in through the holes in your trustiest sneakers. I realized that my body, my nose and shoulders the exact same shade of red as the St. PetersBurgandy by O.P.I. on my nails, my feet blistered (I still can't feel the big toe on my right foot. It must have been, like, thoroughly stomped upon, 'cause it's all numb), stiff calves and forearms (From punching the air, yo!), not peeing for over sixty hours (Severe dehydration, yo!), had become a sacrifice to the rock gods I so readily worship. Y'know, it only hurts when you stop dancing. So under no circumstances do you stop moving. As the most demanding of rock goddesses, Karen O, commanded of the hundred thousand at her feet on Saturday night, "Off, off, off with your head! Dance, dance, dance till you're dead!" This was Lollapalooza '09.


FRIDAY

Bon Iver:
It was raining and I'm grateful. Of any show that was seen the whole weekend, I sure am glad that it was Bon Iver who played in the rain. No one else can pull off rainy-romance like that. I don't know much Bon Iver, truth be told, just what I've heard whilst in the company of Michael- blogmate and LollapaLover (How's that for an epithet!) and my mom. It's strange how the weather worked, I was sincerely freezing after this set with goosebumps and chattering teeth (Legitimately, like Scooby-Doo chattering teeth) and everything.

Crystal Castles:
Oh, Alice Glass, what can I say about you that hasn't been said, you crazy crazy bitch? I've wanted to see Crystal Castles live since I discovered them, hand delivered to me personally by BBCA via Skins (Poor Sid). Before the show we were crept upon by some chubby, middle-aged, stoned guy. He had Slayer concert anecdotes a plenty, and he defended umbrellas which were obviously inexcusable at lollapalooza (A lovely chant of "Deal with the rain, Douchebag!" could be heard throughout the day). We were pretty far back so I didn't exactly see it, but Alice allegedly had her microphone stolen by some randy in the audience, and in response she allegedly punched the randy in the face. She's terrifying, a complete force of nature. She also gave her bottle of vodka to some underaged kids. If you've heard Crystal Castles then you know how difficult it is to sing along, but i sure fucking tried my hardest. Soon as the initial blips and beeps of Air War (I really have no idea if this was the first song they played, but does it really matter?) there was an all consuming rush forward toward the stage. I was nolonger cold, I forgot about the rain. The rain, I believe, actually stopped in the middle of their set. Chased away by Alice's sheer will force. Crazy, crazy bitch.

of Montreal:
I feel like waiting for this show at the gate of the VitaminWater stage was as much a part of the of Montreal experience as the actual show. We stayed at the stage after Crystal Castles, though it was an hour until of Montreal's set, to procure dece spots. 'Cause everyone knows that of Montreal is crazy as fuck. I saw them my freshman year, all capes and gold sparkles and swords and pure fucking glamour. All around us kids were lighting up, cigars, cigarettes, blunts, pipes, bongs. We were entirely consumed by marijuana; thoroughly disgusting. I was offered so many hits, and as I declined I could see it in their eyes, "What a fucking square". My offering that I was no square, simply straight edge did nothing to help my case. I am so '90s. Also quite notably there was a realllllllly drunk girl right in front of me. She pulled down her pants and underwear, and pissed on the ground. Like, one foot in front of me. She then stole her friend's poncho and placed it over her puddle and stood on it. I saw that same girl argue with some kids who were completely impressed by face-paint (My No Deachunter shirt is permanently stained pink because of that damn face-paint) about techno bands. I also saw that same girl crowd surf with her jeans and underwear both down around her mid-thigh. Then of Montreal played. I don't even know how to describe that business. Crazy as shit. There were roughly ten hired interpretive dancers? Anyhow, they crowd surfed on a giant blow up boat. And giant blow up dolphin. Also KEVIN BARNES DEFFF GAVE HIS GUITAR AWAY TO SOME KID IN THE AUDIENCE. Wow. That was one of my favorite shows of the whole weekend.

Crookers/Kid Cudi:
I paired these two up because I am impatient. Also we didn't see all of Crookers, who is a great Dj/who creates heart-attack music (Not my witty observation, the phrase "heart-attack music" belongs to Michael). Also, how come no one told me that Kid Cudi is so cute? He's tiny and pocket sized in well-fitted jeans and a tight black teeshirt and he hearts weed and chi-town. He's also a fucking fantastic rapper. His, like, seventeen minute Day n' Nite was really fantastic and sing-along inducing. He also rapped some Kanye to pay homage to Chicago, which was sweet. What a sweetheart.

SATURDAY

Los Campesinos!:
OHMYGOD. I feel like to fully understand the religious experience that was LC! lolla '09, you need a little bit of background information. I attended lollapalooza '07, and as I walked away from Amy Winehouse, I passed a stage full of exuberance, beauty, punk-rock fury, seven young Brits, and a glockenspiel. I clearly had no choice but to stop and watch the rest of their set. On the official Lolla program I circled the words "Los Campesinos!", and then promptly and tragically forgot them. The next summer, whilst going through a bunch of my old shit, I discovered this program, and wondered why I had circled that randy band. I bought their album "Hold On Now, Youngsters..." from itunes and put it on my pod. Those of you familiar with where I live will know what Hog Wild Days is. If you don't know what this is, it's an annual carnival held at a park very near my house and it is a very trashy affair on whose last night (of three) there is a celebratory fire works display. So, I put LC! on my pod, and went to my favorite swing at this park, on the last night of Hog Wild Days. I listened to this album, and I watched the fire works, and at the moment that the penultimate track (Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks) began I knew that I could never love another band more than I love this one. I am truly a hopeless romantic, and unrequited is the only type of love I know how to give. They played in the morning, at lolla '09, and we got to the park later than I think we ought to have. Gareth & Co. are really really fabulous live (I saw them in Madison earlier this year and my shirt got near ripped off in the mosh pit! "In Madison, we mosh" No fucking kidding), but this is unsurprising considering their music is so entirely energetic. I knew every word to every song they played, I impressed myself and most likely annoyed those around me. It was the hottest of all the days but I blocked it out, instead focusing on moving my arms and legs and head and mouth and tongue and really it is ridiculous how well I know their songs, every chord, every note, every riff, I was ready for. I sweat more in that hour than I have in my entire life, and I lost vision for about ten seconds, fell backward. Maybe a mini black out? Anyhow, thank God Michael was there to catch me. There was a point where I knew that I could either sprint and get some water or pass out, and I figured the latter option would make for a better story. I cried whilst walking from this set, because they were so good, and made me so happy. They did a signing that day, and I kissed Gareth Campesinos.

Santigold:
Wow the LC! revvvvv really emotionally drained me. I have got to make this light-hearted-er. SO. Is there a more radiant woman on this earth than Santi White? Probably not. She's just sweet. She came on roughly ten minutes late, but promptly explained that she had been arguing with security, who refused to allow her to invite audience members on stage for to her expected Creator dance off. She has one of those every show. I think. Atleast it was included when I saw her in Des Moines earlier this spring. Whatever the case may be, that is the best excuse ever given by an artist as to why their set was late getting started. Can we take a moment to respect Santi's dancer/singer girls? Who the fuck are these girls? Why are their dance moves so sporadic and utterly awesome? They never smile BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING QUEEN BEES IN A WORLD OF DRONES. Seriously, those two women are, like, the best female specimens of the human race. They should represent planet Earth at intergalactic functions. Okay, well, anyhow, Santigold worked it out as I knew she would. We made some friends whilst waiting for her set. I call them Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend and Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend's-Shirtless-Friend. I am way sure that I could have gotten Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend's number had Michael not entirely resembled my boyfriend. Way to cock-block (Just Kidding, Ohmygod, I Love You). Also we met up with some school friends (By "school friends", I mean him) who were unfamiliar with Santi's body of work, so that was cool. It's always really interesting to bare witness to someone's first exposure to a band and/or artist.

Tv On the Radio:
Yeah, okay, I get that they're good. And they were fun to watch live, but I just can't help it if they don't really spark my twig, if you catch my drift. I didn't really know their music well enough to really know what was going on. Also my heart was going a million miles per minute because of who was next.......................

Yeah Yeah Yeahs:
I was really ambitious in coming up with what I wanted to say about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but now it just feels like too much. Maybe there is a strictly YYYs themed post in the future, but for now all there is was Saturday night and watching a shittily disguised Nick Zinner (who is the most attractive man to ever live) mess with some pedals, guitar strap around his neck, before the set began. There is no band more glamorous or raw or beautiful or punk rock or poetic than the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I saw them before at lolla '07 but I knew almost none of their music, probably only the singles and a few random Show Your Bones strays. But this was different, because since then I'd fallen in love. Since then I'd learned words and acquired a new favorite song. Karen O. That's all I can say, really, is Karen O. What a sexy masterwork of humanity. She sang with everything she had and her charisma acted as a drug in my system, altering time. Making me love her more than I thought possible. Maps was so emotional. This lollapalooza was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. Frat boys all around us were crying during Maps, and beautiful Karen was so overwhelmed by the vastness and support and adoration that every fan in the audience displayed for her and her music by singing along, that she forgot the words. After the song was restarted, and finished, the last line being "I love you", she said to us "I do". And I fucking believe her, I love her afterall. Karen O, I love you.

well fuck me

DISCLAIMER:

we are music bitches. we are not nice. we hate everyone. especially the strokes and kings of leon. fuck em. we are michael and chloe.

BLUBBBS:

michael- I live in chicago and singapore. locales. I own a lot of dvd's that I've never seen. I love things quickly and solidly, same with hatred.

chloe- my name is chloe. I can't handle WWII or there will be blood. I react physically to emotional turmoil. that's good enough.

AIM:

to make you better as a person through persuasive and potentially illegal means.

truluvvv,

michael & chloe