A Wolf In Ed Hardy Clothing – Behind The Scenes At The Pick Up Artist Summit

I am lucky enough to be invited to lots of interesting events from the most rocking concerts to fringe to freak flag waving nights of hedonism. Sometimes, though it may be a bit off topic for me, I am offered a curiosity I just can’t pass up on.

My friend, Harmon Leon, is the brilliant and warped mind behind Strike TV’s Infiltrator and Freedom Haters. As you might remember, I wrote an essay on the Hollywood dream for his book American Dream. I also played his tacky girlfriend in a brilliant Infiltrator piece on gun control which you can read about here.

From time to time Harmon and I will chat about what projects we are working on or events we are covering:

ME: I’m going to interview Wolfmother this weekend. How about you?

HARMON: Oh, I’m going to Vegas to join ‘Hookers for Jesus’ for the weekend.

Say wha? Well, no offense to the Cosmic Egg dudes but that kinda trumps my rock journo dealio. No question.

So when Harmon had to preach to sinners and hand out bibles in casinos with former ladies of the night, I gladly stepped in for him when he couldn’t be in LA for the 2009 PUA World Summit. That’s PUA, as in: Pick Up Artist. A whole hotel convention ball room filled with pick up artists running their ‘game’ on girls and spreading the word on how to land birds. Um, yeah. I have to go.

With Harmon’s best wishes and a little Hooker Jesus prayer, I tarted myself up in my tiger dress and went to the Renaissance hotel.  I thought about this move and knew I had two options. Wear three multi-media Cosby sweaters and glasses and make it easy for them to talk to me as an asexual journalist…or basically go dressed as a blow up doll personified and see if they can contain themselves long enough to make a slimeless impression on the world. Yes, I knew I was throwing myself to the wolves, but it’s what we embedded journalists do. We put ourselves in harms way for the story. I braced myself for the onslaught of Drakkar Noir.

I checked in as Harmon’s replacement – he being a columnist for Penthouse, and whipped out my little flip camera. I was a bit concerned I was going to be shunned – I thought I would be seen as the enemy seeing as I had ovaries and all, but I was greeted with open arms, a gift bag filled with k-y jelly and condoms, and lots of pick up lines. Someone thought their game was going to work and work fast.

I met with the PUA summit founder Vince Kelvin and he introduced me to a few of the speakers, Hypnotica, Speer, Mehow and Sexual Chocolate who all proceeded to tell me that they were NOT like Mystery and the OLD game. That was about trying to trick a woman into bed. Boo to that. The real purpose of this weekend’s conference was to help men become better men so that they could be better for us women.

Wow, that’s like just what I wanted to hear. Because I’d be a bit turned off if they were trying to pick me up or trying to just get me into bed. But I can really get behind a bunch of guys who are trying to improve their lives and be better for me. I guess I had this whole ‘pick up artist’ and ‘game’ scene wrong. Mea culpa.

True, the tables of ‘Cassanova Crew’ tees, Affliction and Ed Hardy clothes racks, and flyers promising to be part of the ‘pussy pounding posse’ didn’t quite match what they were telling me. But when I brought this up to them, I was told that all the merch was just promotional to get the guys in the door. Once the dudes were in the door, that’s when the real healing and transformation began. It was set up that way. For us women. For women all over the world.

It was very educational. From learning about how to loosen a girl up, to discovering that the holy spirit is actually spunk – I can only imagine the knowledge passed on to the guys who went through the whole weekend master class.

I’ve included some clips of my conversations below complete with bits of NLP, subliminal anchoring via touch and speech patterns, and blatant inappropriate flirting. And yes, I did get asked out on a couple dates. They seemed really nice. I think they’d like me even if I was wearing a big ole Cosby sweater. Should I go?

Little Dragon, Sea Wolf, Shadow, Part Of KCRW’s Thriller Night

A KCRW affair is always a classy one. This year’s Halloween Masquerade did not disappoint. From the gorgeous setting at the legendary Park Plaza to the central casting styled beautiful people in costumes fit for a movie shoot, there was everything needed for a visual and aural bacchanal.

The grand staircase of the Park Plaza was jammed with incredible ensembles ranging from clever to kitschy. There were the topical and predictable, like a Galifianakis in blu blockers with baby from The Hangover, to costumes so intricate they had moving parts which lit up.

There were hats and gloves, masks, tails and plumes, which scraped floors and door frames. The amount of glitter, feathers and fur left in clumps on the floor of the women’s bathroom made the place look like a kennel in Vegas.

Each level in the historic Neo-Gothic hall had a full bar, spooky projected visuals and grand gothic décor. Out in the back, the premier foodie trucks, Sprinkles Cupcakes, Koji Korean barbeque, Border Grill and Kool Haus served up treats to hungry ghouls.

Gothenberg’s electropoppers Little Dragon dressed in all black like Dieter dancers with brightly colored Aztec paper masks, played their synthy tunes for an enthusiastic crowd in the Bronze room. As Yukimi writhed and waved her oblong tambourine and atoned ala Siouxie over the poppy goth beat, the well dressed crowd didn’t waver for a moment.  She rewarded the audience by dancing harder and singing to the back of the house with Evita arms outstretched. There was a massive response for these Swedes. Angelinos want more Little Dragon and they want it immediately.

Little Dragon by Jeremiah Garcia

Upstairs, the crowd for Sea Wolf was just as great, even though Little Dragon’s set overlapped theirs – the only unfortunate problem during the evening – Alex Church and company took the stage decked out a la Day Of The Dead in black skeleton jumpsuits and white skull faces. True, I was a bit disappointed he wasn’t dressed as Teen Wolf (luckily KCRW DJ Eric Lawrence WAS dressed as the MJ Fox character) but that’s where my disappointment ended. Alex sang the new songs with a confidence I haven’t yet seen from him, which will serve him well once the New Moon hoopla snowballs into insanity.

The band launched into old favorites like ‘Songs For The Dead’ and ‘Black Dirt’, asking Big Bird, Super Mario Bros, Jack and Meg White, and several slutty showgirls in the front row to join the band on the stage steps. As they played their hit ‘You’re A Wolf’, the scary visuals being projected above dissolved into the twins from The Shining which almost pulled focus from the newly charismatic Alex Church. Almost.

Sea Wolf by Jeremiah Garcia

Downstairs, DJ Shadow took the decks with 45s, of course, spinning funk and old school favorites. In my eyes, Shadow was the ‘get’ of the night and the clear headliner. He is one of the premiere DJs of his time.

DJ Shadow by Jeramiah Garcia

Unfortunately, his crowd was a bit thin, due to the set times overlapping and the fact that he was up against the Jonestown-like fervor of Edward Sharpe and an electronic rave that Jason Bentley was commandeering on the top floor. I’ve never seen men in full Amadeus regalia and powdered wigs dance in a room that was hot enough for a Bikrams yoga class. It was like Bentley had them in a Trance trance and none of them could pull their overly made up bodies away.

Bentley's crowd by Jeremiah Garcia

Many people filed in the ballroom to watch the final band of the evening, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, perform. Alex Ebert and his polyphonic spree type cult of musicians crowded onto the stage and launched into pleasant singalong sounds. It’s funny to think of Ebert this way. I remember him with the bi-level razored hair and skinny Ima Robot jeans when his songs ‘Scream’ and ‘Dirty Life’ made me do a lil’ indie dance. That was before he made a pilgrimage to Pioneertown and started dressing in all white, all the time. Now, everyone is entitled to a sea change both musically and looks wise. I just wish I liked the new music as much as everyone else around me did. Even the guy dressed as a Golden Shower, danced like a Manson family member on a Joshua Tree LSD binge.

Edward Sharpe and Spree by Gary Leonard

I went back downstairs for more DJ Shadow and for some Garth Trinidad who brought the obvious missing element: Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Decked out as Moses, he used his great, ahem, staff, to part the wheat from the chaff and really make the zombies dance. On the floor. In the round.

Garth/Moses and his big staff

Thriller night, indeed. Something for everyone and each one of the senses provoked, the masked masses danced straight into the early hours of All Saints Day.

Alice Cooper In Wonderland

Eat To The Beat – a new show with rock stars and appetizers

I’ve been re-inspired by my trip across the pond (more on this to come) and my attendance of a taping of the great Later with Jools Holland – the only show left which truly is ‘about the music’.  I’ve pitched a music based show here in the states to countless networks for the past six years, to no avail. Even MTV has said, and I’m quoting, “We want to steer away from music programming.” They just don’t think there’s an audience for music lovers.

Well, I think they’re wrong. I think you have all flocked to online sites such as Pitchfork and the likes to catch glimpses of interviews and performances. Even in a bad recession you crowd music festivals and sell out venues for your favorite groups. During my tenure at Vlaze TV, I was bowled over by the hundreds of thousands of hits an interview with a musician would gather OVERNIGHT. You music lovers are out there and you will tune in.

So I’m taking matters into my own hands. I am launching fundraising for my new music program on a wonderful site called Kickstarter.com. Now the rest is up to YOU. If you want to see more interviews and more music, then pass it on and make a donation.

The wonderful thing about new media and the new model is that network executives (who are out of touch and shoving more Real Housewives crap down our throats), are ultimately not in charge anymore. WE are. So help me help you, as Mr. McGuire said.

I will bring you good music television. Promise.

EAT TO THE BEAT

 

<a href=’http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/341891320/eat-to-the-beat-a-new-show-with-rock-stars-and-a’><img border=’0′ src=’http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/341891320/eat-to-the-beat-a-new-show-with-rock-stars-and-a/widget/card.jpg’ /></a>

Getting It On & Taking It Off – Sunset Strip Music Festival 2009

The crazy train has left the station…and either you were on it or you’ll have to wait until next year’s local trip.

The Sunset Strip, long a place where spandex covered dinosaurs crawled between the Rainbow and the Whiskey has had a resurgence, mostly due to Roxy owner Nic Adler’s social media make over experiment. His crazy communist manifesto of community based music and entertainment has created an alliance with the Viper Room, the Andaz Hotel, The Comedy Store and a few other hot spots. Their online presence,  from tweet crawls to ticket twofer giveaways, has lured hipsters back to the place where rock music once reigned. The fact that the Sunset Strip has gotten it’s own music festival, now in it’s second year, shows that the Strip’s death rattle has reversed course and the infamous piece of WeHo history begun a little rock renaissance. And this year’s renaissance faire got the go ahead to shut down the boulevard to honor the Prince of Darkness himself, Ozzy Osbourne.

The festival kicked off with a big tribute to Ozzy at the House of Blues, which funnily enough for a frenzy of social media mavens, seemed to be a twitter dead zone. The night was MC’ed by Billy Morrison who was most memorable for his cheekbones which could cut glass. There was a pre-taped congrats from Lemmy…uh, what, he couldn’t stumble from the Rainbow-only mere yards up the strip-to say it in person?

Brought up to roast/honor Ozzy were comedian Jim Norton, who showed a slide show of mainly photos of himself with famous people (yawn). Then followed a spirited anecdote from Henry Rollins about underestimating the roar of an Ozzy crowd. Next up was an unfathomable speech of nonsense from Tommy Lee about drinking his own urine (Ugh, Tommy). Nothing much interesting from Slash – just a tale of  listening to Iron Man on acid.  Slash, we really want you to lead us here. You are positioning yourself as a rock hero and guitar legend. Let’s work on the public speaking charisma, dude. If you’re going to wear the Monopoly top hat, then let’s act like the mayor of Guitarville, mkay?

And theeeeen what followed, what I was really curiously waiting for, a few quips from Billy Bob Thornton.

Now Billy Bob was an interesting choice for a few reasons…one: I was hoping he’d do the whole speech in his Sling Blade voice and then he and Ozzy could have an unintelligible-off.  Two: Now being known as a ‘musician’,  I am obsessed with him wanting to give any kind of speech after he completely melted down on a CBC radio show. If there was ever an awkward music interview, Billy Bob takes the cake. I have a sick, twisted desire to interview him and let the train derail and then sort through the wreckage. Oh please, pr gods.

Though I do have to give him credit for mentioning Sharon. He was the only one to say that if we were all honoring Ozzy, we also had to honor the woman who made Ozzy possible. Never would have pegged you for a feminist, Mr. Thornton, but kudos and a plate of french fried potaters to you, sir.

The plaque ceremony and photo op with a quick “I love you all!” from Ozzy, was followed by a performance from Camp Freddy.  I couldn’t help thinking that for Ozzy, this must be like watching a bunch of his friends do karaoke. Sober.

With a couple fun softball performances from Donovan Leitch and some hot rocking blasts from best Freddy member Franky Perez, they bring out Mark fucking McGrath from Sugar Ray. Yeah, the host of that cheeze wiz entertainment show. Either Mark is going grey, or he overdid it on the frosted tips just for this occasion. Doesn’t he have some McG beach blanket music video shoot to go host? He pointed up to Ozzy in the balcony and said “Ozzy, my brother, this goes out to you from Newport Beach!” And then he began to butcher ‘Cat Scratch Fever’. It’s at that point I had to leave. Come to think of it, the balcony seats emptied out pretty quickly too. CAMP FREDDY FAIL.

Friday was reserved for the big Andaz Hotel party and the House of Blues Rock N Roll wine tasting event. I was lucky enough to be staying at the Andaz, which is quite plush since it’s remake, but still underneath has a bit of that riot house/Hyatt house vibe.

With guests like Ozzy staying there too, it had to still have that edge under all the class. The Virgin America/Andaz party boasted a red carpet event up by the rooftop pool with the promise of a few performances, including one by Chris Cornell who had been strangely left off all the set list time announcements. (Was Cornell forced from the festival by the Osbourne train or did he bow out on his own accord?) Although Chris made an appearance to shake some hands and pose for pictures, he didn’t perform, which prompted me to put forth divorce proceedings. The gorgeous hotel view skyline and ample cocktails made for a fun evening, even when an Aussie actor ambushed my camera techniques and turned the tables on me…

The day of the festival was bright and sunny with everyone in hot anticipation for Ozzy’s big performance. The music kicked off with spirited performances from The Donnas and Fishbone.

credit: eric voake

As the afternoon wore on and clothes were stripped off, Shiny Toy Guns played a very low key quiet set…(did they think they were playing for KCRW?) and Korn played angry head banging anthems proving that they lost one too many games of dungeons and dragons when they were kids. I skipped festival favorites Nico Vega to catch Brooklyn’s best, Earl Greyhound, whose new material shows a maturity yet they still know how to kick out the jams.

At last, I settled with my VIP vetted friends on the Bank of America parking lot roof and awaited the crazy train. Ozzy took the stage in front of a mass of all ages – toddlers to senior citizens. And hie performance was pleasing to all. Despite lobbing the f word here and there and hosing people down with foam, it was essentially a good, clean, tame Ozzy (minus Harriet) show. As Thornton had said earlier “Who says the Prince of Darkness can’t be a nice guy?”.

credit: Eric Voake

Here’s some choice moments and interviews with The Donnas, Iglu & Hartly, Norwood of Fishbone and The Mashup Brothers:

People Who Died 2009 – Punk Poet Jim Carroll Passes

Jim Carroll, punk poet and rock laureate of the Bowery, is dead.

I am truly upset, though not entirely surprised. With his hard way of living on sex, drugs and rock and roll, 60 does seem like a respectable age. However, he was a talented writer and poet. Many people know his high school notebooks were published as The Basketball Diaries, which was turned into a movie, starring Leo DiCaprio.

He was an all star athlete growing up. He also worked for Andy Warhol and eventually ended up managing the Warhol Theater. He started his rock group, The Jim Carroll Band, at the encouragement of Patti Smith. PATTI SMITH! Can you imagine her encouraging anything?

Carroll has also collaborated with musicians Lou Reed , Blue Öyster Cult, Boz Scaggs , Ray Manzarek of The Doors , Pearl Jam, Rancid and Lenny Kaye.

I used to play the mp3 of ‘People Who Died’ all the time on my radio show, Under The Influence, and on my show on Sirius’ DIY Radio on Distortion. It was a punk classic. I played it so frequently that my old boyfriend decided I needed to have Jim Carroll on pristine vinyl.

One day he came home from a record swap meet with a Jim Carroll record for me. I excitedly took it out of the paper bag and stared at an image of a hippie-styled folk singer with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, swirls of long, curly brown hair falling around his shoulders, as he lazily reclined in a grassy field.

“This isn’t my Jim Carroll.” I said, disappointed.  “I don’t know what this is.”

“Sure it is. Jim Carroll. Says it right there.” He said.

“Jim Carroll has red hair and is a pale, ex-heroin addict from the Bowery. This guy…should be in Pippin. It’s not Jim Carroll.”

“Yes it is!” My boyfriend said, putting it on the turn table. A folky, Celtic song that would make Jethro Tull hang up his purple jester boots began to play in the living room. “See? Jim Carroll!”

I still remember that proud look on his face deflating, as a flute section chimed in. Even he knew that bands Patti Smith hand picks to groom to play at CBGBs don’t have wind sections. He had found a folkie Jim of the same name. How could he have made such a huge blunder? One look at the album cover would tell you this Monterey Pop looking dude had never been on the horse, unless it was atop a steed during a Stonehenge building re-enactment. And he certainly wasn’t The Jim Carroll who was lauded by William S. Burroughs and Lou Reed.

Oh, well. He got points for trying, I guess…but, really.

I’m not sure what happened to the other record. I think my ex actually liked it and probably claimed it in the divorce. I continue to listen to my preferred Jim.

There was only one Jim Carroll for me.

Rest In Peace.

(obit below)

Jim Carroll, Poet and Punk Rocker, Is Dead

By The New York Times

Jim Carroll, the poet and punk rocker in the outlaw tradition of Rimbaud and Burroughs who chronicled his wild youth in “The Basketball Diaries,” died Friday at his home in Manhattan. He was 60.

The cause was a heart attack, said Rosemary Carroll, his former wife.

As a teenage basketball star in the 1960s at Trinity, an elite private school on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Mr. Carroll led a chaotic life that combined sports, drugs and poetry. This highly unusual combination lent a lurid appeal to “The Basketball Diaries,” the journal he kept during high school and published in 1978, by which time his poetry had already won him a cult reputation as the new Bob Dylan.

Sunset and Vines – Rock ‘n Roll Wine Uncorks At The Sunset Strip Music Festival

Rock has a reputation for being a beer and whiskey kinda night. OK, maybe a rum and coke, then a shot of tequila, then eleventy beers kinda night. But somewhere along the way, I traded in my plastic tumbler for a wine glass. If I drink much at all, I strictly drink wine.

It seems it’d be an uneven match, navigating the pogoing crowds with a refined glass of pinot noir. Well, one less reason to stand in the mosh pit, I suppose. My drink often brings scowls or claims of “That’s a big glass of stain you’re carrying around.” Better to stand safe and sound in VIP with, my dear.  Sure, My libation choice may have made me stick out like a sore thumb, but not anymore. Now there is something that perfectly satisfies my Uptown girl tastes and my Downtown girl edge: Rock ‘N Roll Wine.

Founded by Sommelier Chris Hammond and business partner Sonny Barton, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is a wine events company dedicated to revolutionizing the way people perceive, and enjoy wine. Rock ‘n Roll Wine produces monthly wine events in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Ann Arbor, in addition to making their own music-themed line of wines.

I’ve been to events they’ve had tastings at before. In fact, they were doling out delicious vino at a Swinghouse Studios event. It was so nice to go to a rock party and not be shoved a monster energy drink. I even had a choice between The Grotto, a California red blend with grenache, syrah, cab and a dash of Zin:

or a white muscat, roussanne, chardonnay blend called Reggae Rhapsody:

The company does pairings…that is, music and wine pairings. They suggest that MGMT might be a good listening choice while sipping some Grotto while Jack Johnson would be a more fitting way to enjoy a glass of Reggae Rhapsody. Beach side, of course. OK, neither of those overplayed KROQ artists are my cup of tea, or wine as it were…I’m still waiting for the wines that would be good for breaking out my Gang of Four or Neu! albums, but, hey, baby steps…

Along with the music pairing idea, the company often showcases the wine while artists play onstage nearby. They’ve done events with big artists such as Dashboard Confessional, Everclear, Ingrid Michaelson, Pat Monahan of Train and Low vs. Diamond, as well as emerging artists. Jangly indie rock act? Rock N Roll wines will have a nice cabernet pour for that. Singer/Songwriter about to take the stage? A pinot grigio will be chilling near by, waiting to be sampled.

And in honor of the beer and whiskey soaked Sunset Strip doing it up with their own festival, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is going to class it up this weekend too. Or as Rock ‘n Roll wine tipplers say: “Rock Out With Your Cork Out”. The company will help kick off the festival by hosting their event at the House of Blues VIP club Foundation Room on Friday, September, 11 and feature singer/songwriter Cofféy. The wine party will feature 15 hand-selected, wines from around the world, including Rock ‘n Roll Wine’s Reggae Rhapsody and The Grotto.

To purchase your tickets in advance, visit www.rocknrollwine.com or call 702-240-3066. Rock ‘n Roll Wine is offering a discount to those going to the Sunset Strip Music Festival. Enter code: SSMF when ordering tickets online and receive $5 OFF addmission.

I’ll be there, sampling the wines and the rock, which to me, seem the perfect combination. If I am going to rock out on the strip this weekend, it will most definitely be with my cork out.

Wolfmother Serves Epicenter Festival A Cosmic Egg, Sunny Side Up

The host hazy and dusty race tracks are not the normal habitat of wolves. No, I picture wolves living in the misty mountain hops of vampire infested forests up in Northern America. But I wasn’t interested in spotting your average wolves. I was jonesing to see the kind of hard rock wolves who are native to Australia’s open plains. Wolfmother. They will do just fine in Pomona’s Fairplex.

I kidnapped my British friend, Som, and we headed south, outside the comfortable political and social strata of Los Angeles county. for KROQ’s Epicenter Music Festival. This being the inaugural year, they nabbed headliners Tool, Linkin Park and Alice In Chains but upon arriving, it seems that not even metal/grunge/rock juggernauts could overpower an economy on life support. Of course there are always those with disposable incomes, or meth labs in their basements…

As the backstage area slowly filled with Monster energy drink abusers of all types, the gifting suite filled up with ear plug hawkers and a laser tag course (with air rifles) was constructed in the massive media/artist building. I was quickly and succinctly shot in the face by a man in a Return Of The Jedi shirt, who was on a laser shooting spree while carrying on a cell phone conversation. C’est la Pomona vie.

The dusty field slowly became dotted with barrel-chested men in black Tool shirts, Street Sweeper Social club were adequately received, save for a few boos lobbed at them when they made political statements about sending troops overseas to fight in Iraq. You’re not in Los Angeles, anymore, Morello. Click your Hollywood heels three times. These men like their guns. And my guess is they don’t want you to kill their grandma with healthcare options.

As Som sought out his friends in the band, Hollywood Undead, I managed to spot an Australian red backed wolf, in fact the leader of his pack. Andrew Stockdale and I sat in the back of the artist tent, near where the caterers were inexplicably serving up tray after tray of hot brussel sprouts…By the way, really? Brussel sprouts? How is that a rock n roll food? Like Linkin Park is gonna come rolling through and say “Oooh I’m gonna eat the crap outta those brussell sprouts!” But I digress…

Andrew and I lounged amidst the stench of rockin’ brussel sprouts and talked about his return to sunny LA, where the band had recorded their latest release, Cosmic Egg. Andrew wholeheartedly admitted that the October 13th drop date was a nod to my birthday. He knows better to disappoint me. I mean, he does live in the land down under, but LA is like his second home so he does have to worry about making me unhappy. And how did he feel about being back in his second home?

“I do like LA. I’m interested in all the different sides to it.”

Yeah, we know. Our city can be just as bi-polar as it’s inhabitants.  That’s why we self medicate or meditate. And speaking of our namaste ways, what of the folklore that Cosmic Egg was named after some crazy yoga pose Andrew found himself in?

“Yeah, I think it was some resting pose, I’m not sure. It could have been the fetal pose. It must have been a tripped out instructor for sure.”

Tripped out sounds about right. But the Cosmic Egg is also a Hindu symbol often used to describe what we call the big bang theory. Did that factor into naming the album?

“I was interested in something I read about black holes being the end of time but now they think they’re the beginning. So it’s the end of the beginning. Or, it’s a new universe. If that makes sense. I didn’t even know all that was behind the name when I heard it. I just thought it sounded cool!”

With all the talk about the beginning and the end of the universe, and 2012 quickly approaching, anyone who is still following he Mayan calendar would be getting a little uneasy. So is this the end of days? Or is the cosmic egg cracking open something wonderful and new?

“When I first started writing songs, there were a lot of environmental issues in the press and we did shows for lower emissions. So, some of my songs are about the end of the world. You know: ‘The sun’s getting closer! We’ve got to change our ways!’ But I’m glad there are only one or two songs in there like that. One of the songs is called ‘The Violence Of The Sun’…there’s nothing hippie about it. It’s this burning mass of destruction. The environment is violent. Evolution is violent.”

As out discussion starts to get farther from mysticism: (star showers, wolves, and eggs) and further into science and the temperature of the earth’s core, Andrew gets uneasy and balks.

“I don’t want to be overly intellectual about it.” He pauses and adjusts his grey vest. “Not that I could be.” He adds, laughing.

Well, then it seems that he’s come to the right place. I don’t want to generalize but after watching Boots Riley and Tom Morello get booed, the field outside seems to be a giant mass of duh being stirred up with beer and energy cocktails. Since when did it become uncool to be smart? Was it dummy pimps, like Palin, who made the intellectual a dirty name?

“You don’t have to be dumb,” Andrew starts out carefully, “but I think it’s important to be instinctive and expressive and have passion. That goes a long way. And not being too strategic too. I saw this thing on Picasso. He wanted to get one of his mistresses pregnant so she’d be less intellectual and more in tune with life.”

Point taken.  Intellect and instinct both have their place. And I am hereby doubling up on condoms. Just in case.

As his band mates begin to shuffle by and get ready to head toward the stage, I ask Andrew if he’s seen It Might Get Loud. He hasn’t yet, but we talk about Jimmy Page and Wolfmother’s big date, opening for Led Zeppelin when they were inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. I point out that they are most likely the last band to ever do so and that the pressure would drive someone like me to drink.

“I sat in the backstage area and played that solo (Communication Breakdown) about fifty times before we walked out there. The bizarre thing is that James Brown was there to induct himself and he looked over at me and I gave him a little wave and he waved back. He died the next day. It’s amazing. It’s like he stayed alive just for that.”

Andrew kind of pauses, lost in the moment. A cameraman tripping over himself in front of us brings Andrew back to storytelling mode.

“Anyway we went and did Communication Breakdown. My monitor on the stage stopped working. The sound was blaring. I couldn’t hear a thing so I thought I just better go for it. It was the highest I have ever sung in my life!”

I start to laugh, picturing Andrew’s already soaring voice reaching the outer galaxies. I mention to him that whales and dolphins across the seas were with him in spirit that day. He made a legion of marine life into Zep fans that day. He smiles at the thought. I think I might have just inspired some album art work or posters for the next round.

Andrew gets ready to rock the Pomonians, but before he does, I ask him one last question. If the epicenter is the point of an underground explosion, what does he think is the next underground explosion about to hit our culture?

“Aw, I haven’t even had time to think about good stuff like that. Easy listening? Bossanova! Like Jose Feliciano? Really beautiful bossanova music.

I tell him he could start the trend today. He’s got a big audience awaiting him with rapt attention.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll bring out the nylon string today.”

If anyone could pull it off, it would be Stockdale, who has managed to bring back a classic rock sound without aping the genre. Luckily for those about to rock out at the Epicenter Festival, Andrew and the wolf crew kept it hard and loud. Mixing some new blue cheer tunes like California Queen and New Moon Rising, with old popular Zep twinged tunes like Woman, White Unicorn and Dimension, the audience roared with a whole lotta love.

credit: Firecloud

The Cosmic egg was cracked and the kids gobbled it up and were left wanting more.

May I suggest maybe releasing a b–sides rarities album? Something with a dolphin on the cover.

Talking Robots, Ace Of Cakes & Police Academy With Aesop Rock

At the sweaty, smoky dust bowl they call the Fairplex in Pomona, I hid out in the Epicenter artist tent, getting spoiled with laser tag games, free lip gloss and massages. It’s not that I hate music or anything, it’s that other than a curiosity about Street Sweeper Social Club and a burning desire to see Wolfmother and Alice In Chains, I had a tepid interest in the other groups and a strong distaste for the oafs who kept hitting on me. Plus I was getting a sunburn, which kept worsening despite the hazy clouds.

One highlight of my day, OK my week, was hanging out with one of the coolest, funniest and most talented cats in underground hip hop, Aesop Rock.

I swear, if I could only sell one of the networks on a rap sketch show, it’s be a massive hit. I’d add Aesop to my Murs and Me show and that shit would be an instant classic. Guaranteed.

As we sat in the ice cold air conditioning, avoiding the sweaty masses outside, here’s a bit of how we passed the time.

ALI ON THE AIR: Soooo. First things first. Are they remaking Beverly Hills Cop? Or Police Academy?

AESOP ROCK: They are remaking Beverly Hills Cop but I wish they were remaking Police Academy again. Why stop a good thing? It’s pretty much the Harry Potter of the police movie world.

AOTA: I saw the first two Police Academy movies and I wasn’t sure what other scrapes they could get into. To be honest, I’m not sure my heart could handle it.

AESOP: Understood. Tackleberry with his guns all the time…

AOTA: Do you ever sample the noises that Michael Winslow makes?

AESOP: I saw that guy recently on TV and he’s still doing that shit. He’s still doing the robot noise. I found myself wishing I could do it. At first I was like ‘he’s still doing the same thing?’ And then I was like ‘That’s awesome man!’.

AOTA: You have a video on your page about building robots.

AESOP: It has a sad ending. There were three…my friend Cage was with us and…at the end there were supposed to be these theremin style synthesizers that had a robot face and the eyes were light sensitive. It required soldering. It was something we thought we could get stoned and do in a half hour. Six hours later with the soldering iron…we’re like shit. Now it’s a pile of robot guts sitting in the corner of the room that my wife keeps asking if she can throw out. ‘No! One day I’ll fix it!’

AOTA: You probably could’ve recorded an entire album in the time it took to NOT build those robots. But hey, it’s the journey, I guess. You’ve known Cage a while?

AESOP: I met Cage in New York. But I was a fan of his. I didn’t really get to know him until he signed to the label (Def Jux) in 2003or four. He’s been doing underground rap in New York for a long time. He had records out in the nineties. He would go on college shows and for a while I looked up to him. I still do but now I know him. A lot of these guys are a couple years older than me, and they were guys who, when I was trying to make a little noise, it was directly plotting what they had been doing. Cage is one of those guys. And now we’re friends.

AOTA: And you popped up in his video. And you collaborate with him. You started out studying painting. You don’t see collaboration in the art world like that. Except maybe Banksy, but he ain’t exactly asking permission.

Banksy

AESOP: The current generation of street artists who turn into gallery artists do collaborate, but it’s mostly in music. It’s a gift and a curse. You don’t want to see every song have a ‘featuring so and so’ cause it’s like…well what did YOU do? But, yeah, it’s cool I have a group of go-to people. I have a small network of people if and when I need them. At the same time, I try and keep the collaborations to only a couple per album, because that gets to be too much and looks like you can’t complete it yourself. But it’s so cool that dudes I used to tape off the radio, I can now call them and say, ‘Hey do this thing with me’. I definitely never take that for granted.

AOTA: I should say thank you…and also I hate you, for contributing to the whole nike/ipod song sync up thing. At first I thought it was so cool to have a sensor in your shoe to match up to your i pod and your music. But then, what a nightmare. Now I’m held accountable. My ipod knows how slow or lazy I am. Thanks a lot, Aesop.

AESOP: Oh, hell. I’m not getting on a treadmill. Luckily my wife runs so I was like ‘Oh this will be great. She can be my lab rat and test it out.’ I’d make ten minutes of music for them…they said ‘We need it in forty days’. Now, I’d been working on my own album for two years. It was about an hour plus of music. And they want this in forty days? So I’d say ‘Hey honey, here’s seven minutes of music. Go run to it!’ It worked! She’d have some notes about where the levels of intensity should go and I’d rework it and send her out again.

AOTA: Why do I see you like Burt Young, the coach in Rocky, driving along side her in the car, making her run in the street?

AESOP:  Yeah. The best is when I turned it into Nike before it was fully mixed. They had a room full of people running on treadmills to it. And the runners had notes for me! Part of me wanted to say “Fuck you! You don’t understand what I’m doing with my music.” But it was to serve a purpose. It’s for people who run. Gotta meet in the middle as what’s best for a runner and what’s best for a stubborn little musician guy.

AOTA: For some of the milestone points, they had people like Lance Armstrong or Tiger Woods with pre-recorded congratulations messages. They didn’t have you do that. I want to hear what you would have said at the ten mile mark.

AESOP: I would’ve said “Fuck you! You’re never gonna make it, you pussy!” HA! Cause every time I’ve joined a gym and they give you a free training session I’m like, ‘Cool, let me cash in on this.’ And last time, the trainer…I just hate having people telling me what to do. They’re there to push you, but they’re just yelling at you. My last trainer experience, ugh. He googled me. Half way through I knew I was never coming back. I had to write a letter saying ‘Hey it’s been cool and you worked me hard, but I feel like crap. So I’m not coming it tomorrow…but you’re awesome!’. And then I’d keep seeing him at the gym. So now I don’t go.

AOTA: Felt 3? You’re not allowed to talk about it? Is it like Fight Club?

AESOP: No, I can now! I’m producing it. I can’t say who the dedication is. It’s definitely a woman. And its definitely an actress.

AOTA: Paris Hilton.

AESOP: I said an actress. And one that kinda hasn’t been in the spotlight for a while.

AOTA: Paris Hilton.

AESOP: I can tell you it’s NOT Paris Hilton.

breaking news - it's Rosie Perez

AOTA: But I’m close? See? I’m getting answers out of you. So, Dewana’s Bridal. A film short. You’re doing the score?

AESOP: Yeah, I’m psyched! Ace Norton, a director who did the video for Coffee off my last record (None Shall Pass), he did a horror movie style video. We hit it off really well. Now when I go home, there will be a cut of the movie. It’s officially scoring something.

AOTA: Yeah and you don’t have to make people run.

AESOP: No! I get to sit there in the dark and eat Junior Mints.

AOTA: That’s the opposite of running. So you’re performing later at this here Epicenter festival. Which is the name for an underground explosion. What do you think is the next big underground explosion?

AESOP: Uuhhhh, I don’t think it’s here today. Musically?

AOTA: Whatever. Music. Junior Mints. Cake.

AESOP: I do love Ace of Cakes. Did you see that cake in the gifting suite we were in? The woman was like, ‘Look at this cake. It’s make by a rock n roll bakery.’ And it’s totally just a bullshit version of an Ace of Cakes cake. B rate Ace Of Cakes. I love those Ace guys and the people over there should be fucking ashamed to be in the same category as creative cake makers.

AOTA: You need to use REAL guitar strings when you make a guitar shaped cake. None of this licorice whip string bullshit. I want to be able to play a b flat!

AESOP: Agreed! I want engines and small motors! Hmmm. Where’s the underground explosion? When I took Black Moth Super Rainbow on tour with me last time I thought they were really good…I would sample them if they were obsure and from another decade. I thought they were doing some cool shit. And the other thing I like about them…I feel like I fumble through everything I’ve ever done. I look around here at this KROQ festival and I’m like, this is ridiculous. What the fuck am I doing here? And Tom is a ball of talent who is nervous who doesn’t know how to say hi to the world, which is how I feel sometimes. Most music people are hermits and them they pull you out of your shell and they’re like go do KROQ! So here I am. I’m not saying I’m the next underground explosion but it’ be nice if I could still make some kind of explosion.

***

I so wish it would’ve been one of him exploding out of that bullshit cake. Alas, that was not to be. The KROQ kids had to settle for a cakeless Aesop Rock set which is still enough to rock Marie Antoinette’s ass off any day.

Demented And Sad, But Social – John Hughes/Breakfast Club Tribute By Flux In LA

Demented And Sad But Social – John Hughes Breakast Club Tribute By Flux in LA

By Ali MacLean

By all outward accounts, I lived a charmed high school existence. An A student with long honey colored hair, I played soccer and was captain of the cheerleading squad. We even competed at a national level, which got our picture on the front page of the Boston Globe sports section and on national television. So, I had it pretty sweet. Right? Yeah, right.

Anyone who has seen a John Hughes movie knows the halls of a high school are shark- infested waters that are difficult to navigate. The same was true for me. I lay awake at night worried about everything from what to where, what was going to be on the test, which bitch would be bothering me in the corridors, who to eat lunch with and other terrors of the high school caste system. At most times I felt like a cast member of Heathers, rather than John’s sweeter films, but having his movies gave me strength.

Sure, other teen film auteurs pointed out that the geeks have a hard time of it in school. But John was one of the first to point out that maybe the Claires of this world had just as miserable an experience as all the other kids. Thank Fucking God someone was reading my diary! You mean I’m not the only one who is moody?  It’s ok to be depressed even if you’re sort of smart or pretty or athletic? There are other kids out there feeling ennui of French existentialist proportions? It’s OK to want to blow up your high school with your mind?

Being a cheerleader didn’t really mean anything to me, inwardly. It never occurred to me that I was a popular kid, just like it never occurred to me that other kids were going through the same thing I was. That is, until I saw John’s scripts so eloquently spell it out. Hughes had a knack for getting inside a teen’s head and letting them speak and emote without it sounding like some WB drivel with Paula Cole in the background. Hughes characters, as archetypal as they were drawn to be, were funny, quirky and all too real. It was entirely possible and understandable that I could relate to both Claire AND Alison in the Breakfast Club. OK, I related to Bender, too a little bit. But my rebellion would come a bit later.

Part of Hughes’ talent is that each of his films created characters that everyone could relate to. I felt such a kinship to Samantha in Sixteen Candles, the perennial sophomore whose family doesn’t seem to recognize her misery and pining for Jake Ryan. Or, what seemed like an even bigger crime, they forget to recognize her own birthday, a horror that I’ve over compensated for in such an extreme, that I demand that my birthday be relegated to national holiday status by all friends and family. No, really. October 14th. Mark it down.

Another Molly I related to was crafty Andie. Growing up in posh Newton, it was pretty easy to feel if you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Basically if you didn’t get a new beemer for your sweet sixteen, you were poor. All the Esprit in the world couldn’t save me from my fate. So I started thrifting at an early age. My friend Rima and I would hang out in Harvard Square and pick up strange bohemian trinkets and later fashion them into jewelry. Soon enough I was sporting torn jeans and army fatigues and wearing combat boots with my cheerleading skirt. That didn’t go down well with the Heathers. But what they thought didn’t matter. I would think of Andie with her shears cutting away at pink tulle, dreaming of a boy named after an appliance and trying to gently let down the best friend. It is a triangle scenario that would reappear many times for me in the future: the seemingly unattainable guy who actually might like me vs. the platonic friend who makes me laugh, who might not be so platonic. Decisions are tough but what’s important is that it’s handled with grace…

Possibly my first Hughes obsession during my childhood was Ferris Bueller. I must have seen that movie ten times in the theater and countless times on cable. Partially the mystique was Broderick’s winsome ability to get away with murder and a bit of it was probably the movie’s ability to annoy my parents who were school administrators and professors. Of course, years later, my father admits Jeffrey Jones was probably the best teen comedy foil ever put on film. I have to agree. While I rooted fro Ferris every bounce, wink and mile clocked on the alpha, I do admit I connected deeply to the oft irritated sister Jeannie. Who hasn’t felt a sibling rivalry ratcheted up to a frenzied pitch? OK perhaps the zany parade hijacking and jailhouse scenes may have been omitted from your own family tales but I felt for Jeannie, the least liked Bueller family member. Ferris was just so fun, so popular, so friendly. And Jeannie…wasn’t. Playing by the rules got her nowhere and whining about it got her nowhere fast. Even her cat and mouse game of getting even didn’t pan out. I feel for you Jeannie. Even when I wasn’t the one in the wrong, I was the one sent to my room.

However, the film that everyone comes back to…the one that was recently aped by a documentary film’s ad campaign (American Teen) is The Breakfast Club. The idea of detention is a bummer. But detention on a Saturday? With a bunch of kids not in your clique? I mean, omigawd! Part of what makes the pathos so strong is that though the characters are stereotypes, they are fully drawn out. How else could I be each of these people? I certainly was seen by some to be the bitchy popular girl, Claire. But I identified with the Zeppelin flannel wearing burn-outs like Bender. They probably were the first to listen to grunge! Who hasn’t felt isolated and alone like Allison at some point in their life? I’m most definitely competitive and as a cheerleader competing at a national level, I could relate to Andy’s pressure to win. I even felt the enormous pressure the geek, Brian felt. Not to make a science project or lamp work. But taking Latin classes before school to boost my SAT scores didn’t really do anything for my street cred.

Tomorrow night in Hollywood, the FLUX film series at the Montalban will allow us all to once again become the Jock, the Princess, the Brain, the Criminal and the Basket Case.

In a tribute to John Hughes, guests are being asked to email in photos of themselves from high school and are encouraged to dress in their most fabulous 80s outfit for the screening. Some of use will pull our cloths out of mothballs and others will go over to Urban Outfitters and buy new versions of 80’s disasters that never should have been re-created. Or created in the first place.

A slide show of the emailed high school pictures will be projected through out the night.

This special evening is part of Cinema Tuesdays, a monthly series curated by Flux celebrating innovative film at The Montalbán, Nike Sportswears unique retail and special events theatre in Hollywood.

Tuesday August 25th, 2009

7PM Reunion
8PM Screening + After-party with Lady Sinclair and cocktails by Belvedere Macerated.

Nike Sportswear at The Montalbán
1615 Vine Street
Hollywood, CA

Bikini Beats – Calvin Harris Makes A Humanthesizer

Ut oh. Another reason to work out… A LOT.

With electro tunes, ecstasy and Sparks, there isn’t much reason needed for nu rave kids to shed their clothes and rub up against each other on the dance floor, but Calvin has created another reason to wear nothing but one of those lame American Apparel bikinis – to actually create music.

Of course, when I lay down tracks in the studio, my models will all look like Rufus Sewell…but it’s all about the music.

Read more below about Harris’ Humanthesizer:

Humanthesizer, a unique human synthesizer. The instrument employs 15 bikini clad models and a new electric body ink developed by students at the Royal College of Art, London.

The new ink, when painted on the skin, allows a current to be passed through the body without causing an electric shock. The instrument consists of 34 pads on the floor which have been painted with the conductive ink and connected to a computer via some clever custom electronics. The performers stand on the pads, and touch each other on the hands or body to complete a circuit and trigger a sound. Calvin played the main keyboard line and effects by interacting with a row of eight girls. The rhythmic portions of the track were played by seven dancers performing a carefully choreographed routine.

The project is the result of collaboration between Calvin Harris, creatives Phil Clandillon and Steve Milbourne at Sony Music, Columbia Records and a group of masters students from the RCA’s Industrial Design Engineering programme.