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