the oh so quiet show

Erlend and Eirik

Why is King of Convenience so awesome to see live?

• They look happy.
• They sound beautiful.
• …And effortless.
• …And intimate.
• They tell random funny anecdotes.
• Erlend does cute little dances.
• THEY ARE SO GODDAMN GOOD WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?

It took four and a half years for King of Convenience to come back to New York City. The first time I saw them was one of the most memorable shows I had ever been to. And Thursday night…I’d say was the same. And not just because I’m known for having a penchant for weegies. (That is, Norwegians, not Glaswegians.)

Feist!

They mostly played songs from their new album, Declaration of Independence, but tossed a few older ones in at the end to appease the audience, along with a cover of “It’s My Party.” There were many memorable moments—I was a particular fan of when Erlend said they had eaten at Kampuchea and that we New Yorkers were lucky to live in a city with such good food—but Feist appearing in the balcony during the encore, amplification-less performance of “The Build Up” was the final “you probably won’t forget this” moment. Her voice is what makes me love the song.

There was also that time that Eirik gave us his best steely male model pose.

Smile!

Actually, they both granted the audience their best poses in return for us not taking photos during their performance. DSLRs are too loud; I don’t blame them. (I only took a few photos after that moment, during times that I felt were the least obtrusive. I swear.)

Toot.

And there’s Erlend pretending to play a saxophone. Because. Why not?

Play on

Impulsive and good decision: seeing The Octopus Project two Sundays ago at Mercury Lounge due to Jim’s suggestion. …After taking a two-hour car ride from small town Virginia to Washington D.C., a four-and-a-half-hour Bolt Bus ride from D.C. to NYC, and shoveling some mediocre food from Woorijip down my throat. Even with luggage in tow and layer of sweat masking every pore on my body, I still had a good time. And for a rare occurrence, I didn’t have to be familiar with all the songs to enjoy the music.

After seeing Yvonne Lambert rock the theremin, I feel like I ought to get reacquainted with mine at the risk of annoying the shit out of my roommate with screeching high pitched bleeps. (I bought a theremin in high school during my “I LIKE RANDOM INSTRUMENTS” phase. Fiddling with it showed me that, holy hell, this thing is hard to play. But it sounds cool. And superbly annoying if you don’t know what you’re doing—sort of like with a violin, but perhaps a smidge less painful.)

“Wet Gold” is my favorite song form their new EP, Golden Beds. You can listen to all the songs at peekaboorecords.com

Raise em high.

He told us to raise our fists in the air. So we did.

Now go stand over there.

He told us to form a big circle and then run around in the circle. So we did.

Now do that.

He told us to dance in pairs. So we did. (Well, I skipped this one.)

Human tunnel.

He told us to make a human tunnel. So we did. From the venue floor, down the stairs, through the bar, and back up the stairs.

Woof.

When I was standing outside of the Bowery Ballroom last Saturday and taking in the fumes of stale beer and cigarette smoke, I thought, “Jesus christ, no wonder I stopped going to concerts,” but seeing Dan Deacon (+ an army of band members) was great fun (the interactivity is key) and certainly worth the subjection to various smells I wouldn’t normally find myself exposed to. It would’ve been more fun if I hadn’t been lugging around a huge bag with me, but that’s the price I pay for always wanting my dSLR and water bottle on hand. My friend Erin and I were part of maybe 5% of the crowd that wasn’t high on something. That’s how we roll.

And thus I have another dream that shall never be realized: to be as cool as Dan Deacon.

I’m too tired to write much about the Blip Fest show I went to last Saturday, but overall, it was fun except for the gazillion times my foot got stepped on. And the people who repeatedly smashed themselves into my body, even if they said they were sorry. But I probably should’ve expected that for being in the front row.

Bubblyfish

Bubblyfish is still my favorite. Not necessarily the songs she played during the show, but…her stuff in general. Sounds less conventional to me. The crowd loved her.

Sulumi

Sulumi was good too. Lots of. …Jumping. I jumped on the inside.

Nullsleep

And Nullsleep, or Jeremiah as I like to call him, was awesome and insane and intense and I think he’s possessed when he’s on stage. I fought my way out of the audience during his set (it was late and I wanted to go home); after I made it out, I turned around to see the shadow of a crowd surfer being carried across the room.

Way back when I cared more, I would go to concerts before the doors were to open in order to get the best view of the stage. That is, pressed up right against it. Besides getting an awesome view, I’d also have something to lean against for the next few hours of waiting and watching, which were crucial to my feet not turning to jelly.

This past Monday when I went to the Lykke Li show at Music Hall of Williamsburg, I would’ve have liked to have been up at the front, but I also wanted to not stand for hours and have enough time to feed myself the nightly meal most humans are accustomed to eating. So my friends and I left my apartment at 9:30 to get there at 10, something completely unheard of back in my high school years of obsessively getting to concerts too early, i.e. before the sun went down.

What else has changed since 2002? I hadn’t been to 66 North 6th Street since 2002, for one thing. My memory of the previous North Six was that it felt like being in an elementary school gym, the kind that doubles as a stage, and this gym happened to be behind fairly unmarked doors, doors that could’ve led to an abandoned warehouse or killing room. Seeing the updated space was like, whoa, sparkly. The show I saw was The Velvet Teen (which felt like it had an audience of about 10 people) and it was possibly my first foray into Williamsburg, which at the time was seemingly devoid of all human life. It was creepy.

Lykke Li

Oh yeah, so since I got there at 10, I ended up somewhere near the back looking through the heads of all the taller people around me, which was probably 99% of them. But it was fine. I enjoyed it. She played nearly her whole album plus some covers that I didn’t know.  Lykke Li is definitely some sort of awesome; she sings well, gives off this lively but not frighteningly energetic aura, and kinda…prances around the stage. Or as Olivia said, “She looks retarded when she dances, but then she looks cool because has so much self confidence.” She dances like she doesn’t give a crap about anything, which is the best way to do it, unless you’re failing your arms and hitting people/fragile items.She enjoyed herself, we enjoyed ourselves, and everyone was happies.

Another view

My 6+ foot tall friend Kåre shot this photo to show me what it’s like when your view isn’t obstructed by a forest of shadowed heads. It’s like when you feel like there’s a squirrel up your nose and suddenly, the squirrels die and you can breathe easily.  Nice.

I would go again.  Yes.

And if you haven’t heard Lykke Li before, a remix I quite like:

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THE BIRD!

In just a little over half an hour, I had Metro North-ed my way out of the city into the cute, cozy streets of Tarrytown. First (and only) stop: ANDREW BIRD.  Andrew Bird in all his solo stripy socked glory, effortlessly building loop upon loop of plucky violin strings, or non-plucky, or guitar, or whistling, or xylophone, or hand clapping. And don’t forget about his singing.  Where does such a warm and comforting voice come from?  How could a mere mortal do all of the above?  Hooooow?

OH SWEET JESUS, I LOVE YOU, ANDREW BIRD. And even though nothing could’ve been better than his show at Union Hall, Tarrytown Music Hall made for a lovely venue. I got to sit down! Like whoa. I’m so accustomed to sitting down all day that standing for a few hours would probably kill my feet. My old age is catching up to me.

Of course, if I had to stand the show still would’ve been a million kinds of awesome.

He played a bunch of new songs that I can’t remember.  And some older ones.  But everything sounds new again when he goes at them in a live, solo setting.  He morphs melodies you thought you knew into something else.  THEY ARE REBORN! …Without messy amniotic fluid.

Sandro Perri

Unbeknownst to be beforehand, Sandro Perri was the opener. It was somewhat exciting for me since I’m a fan of his music as Polmo Polpo, but I was unfamiliar with his acoustic material of guitar + singing + bass drum. Not sure what I like better; it’s all rather good.

Zach just treated my office to a captivating story about buying scalped tickets to see George Michael at Madison Square Garden.  We all stared at him in disbelief.  It was amusing.

I’m not going to repeat any of the story; I just wanted to note the random things that go on during my day.  GO ZACH!!!

Currently listening to random mixtapes at muxtape. I like the layout: simple, giant text, solid colors. Not much in the ways of controls, but that means less need to use my brain. Which is a welcome thing when I’m doodling away on my computer after midnight, aka, “brain quittin’ time.”

I have, of course, claimed my URL, but haven’t uploaded anything yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.

Things are going on over there

Almost forgot to mention that I saw Caribou two weeks ago with John. My concert excitement has faded so quickly in just a few years. Or less. Not that the show wasn’t great—it was quite awesome, something I’d love to see again. Happy visuals, happy music, happy happies, energy up the wazoo, a strange sensation considering that I was so tired I just leaned against the wall the whole time and probably yawned a lot more than I should’ve, which is what every day is like these days…

This is God’s way of telling me that I should drink coffee.

Cut Copy, taken by Amy

Last Saturday (only a week ago, really?) I went to Studio B to see Cut Copy with Amy, Jess, and Alex. It was my first “real” concert in…a long time. Strange to think that in high school I had the stamina to go to a concert, say, more than once every two months, but now I kind of loathe the thought of staying out until my contacts adhere themselves to my eyeballs and potentially having to go to work the next day. (I’m going to see Caribou this Friday though. Excitement! Wee!)

The main reason I went to see Cut Copy, besides that I like their music, was because Amy asked me to. Alex was a last minute add-on when he said, “OHAI, I’m coming down from Vassar for the weekend just because!” He didn’t have a ticket, but all we had to do was wait outside in a line moving at the speed of a disabled sloth before he was allowed entrance. Our wait was enhanced by shivering fun!—neither of us had brought jackets so we could avoid checking them in. This was the first time I actually left everything at home (“home” being Tristan’s not-too-far-away apartment) aside from a few necessities I could cram into Alex’s pockets. After waiting forever to check my bag in the last time I went to Studio B, I didn’t want to relive the horror.

This also mean I couldn’t lug my dSLR with me, but sometimes it’s okay not to take photos. I guess. Also, Amy took plenty.

Cut Copy, taken by Amy

So…the concert. I’ve become increasingly horrible at being able to describe these things. Most of the songs they played appeared to be from their first album, Bright Like Neon Love, which worked for me because I hadn’t listened to their newest one, In Ghost Colours. I think I…danced. Just a tad. It’s a rare thing, to see me dancing because I’m too self-conscious and feel like an mal-coordinated idiot when I move in ways beyond walking/running/etc. The band was into it, and the screaming fans led me to believe that the crowd was too.

The only low points of the concert were 1) standing next to or behind super-tall people/hipsters when I am barely over 5 feet tall, but i guess it’s my fault for having crappy genes ill-adapted for going to concerts, 2) standing next to people who wouldn’t stop making out (when people are shouting at you to “get a room,” you know it’s not good), 3) when at least one girl attempted to crowd surf and failed, 4) when this one guy wouldn’t stop hitting on Amy even though she was obviously not interested, although not obvious enough for this guy because her personality does not include “acting like a bitch.” Dear people of the male persuasion: do not talk try to a girl WHILE THE CONCERT IS GOING ON, IT’S KIND OF AWKWARD.

Otherwise, good times were had.

Blip Festival

If you’re in NYC and have no plans for the weekend, check out the Blip Festival at Eyebeam. 8-BUT MUSIC UP THE WAZOOO! WITH A GINORMOUS PIXELATED SCREEN IN THE BACKGROUND!

You know you want it.

You can also buy beer, if that helps.

Bubblyfish

My favorite artist from yesterday is Bubblyfish (myspace). It doesn’t just sound like a bunch of 8-bit goop mashed together…it’s like, oo, songs. Yup. Oo. Her live performance was way dancier than the stuff on her album. Not that people were really dancing. Maybe if half of us weren’t wearing heavy coats and carrying huge-ass cameras…

Awesome?

Andrew Kuo makes vivid, kind of complicated but not at the same time charts, such as this one documenting all of last summer’s concerts at McCarren Pool. I like.

[via Swiss Miss]

So I went to this Lavender Diamond concert…

Becky Stark

…about 2 weeks ago? Really? I feel like it’s been much longer. But the photos I took are only 3 pages back in my flickr stream, so I guess they’re not that old.

still Becky

Ah, I know…time is slowing down as I approach the end. You know, death? Yeah. That’s why I feel like I’ve aged a few years since the concert. And soon time will stop completely. And I will know I have passed into the neeext woooorld.

Guess who this is!

But…that’ll take a while. Yeah. While I am living, I’m glad that people like Becky Stark exist to make fun bands with fun songs because it makes living a little more enjoyable. She wasn’t as shy as she was during the NYPL performance. She was still silly, but confidently so. It’s quite a difference. I especially liked it when while singing “You Broke My Heart” she pointed at various members of the audience as though they were the perpetrators.

I wonder if someone really did break her heart. …I suppose so or else she wouldn’t have written it. Is the song even sad? It it happy? I can’t tell. If Becky sang about livers being torn out of squirrels, it would probably still sound kind of happy. … …Yeah.

So, my concerting kinda seems over for the summer. Maybe I will go to a Pool Parties show, but man, Williamsburg is far from me at the moment. If I were less dumb, I would’ve seen Feist and Grizzly Bear. But no…I am full dumb. And sleepy. [eyelids droop]

Sometimes I forget I have this blog. Other times I acknowledge it, but choose to ignore the “updating” procedure.

waiting

I used to really like concerts. Actually, I still do, but now the things that used to only bother me a little about concerts bother me a lot. Waiting for a long time for things to start is bothersome, for example. When I was younger I think I’d have little problem waiting 4-5 hours from standing by the stage to someone actually going on stage and tooting out a few notes. Now that waiting time fills me with bitter hatred and the desire to kill things, which doesn’t do wonders for my blood pressure.

Ah. Well. What can you do. My friend and I went to see Patrick Wolf on Wednesday night at Bowery Ballroom. Since no opener was listed, I naively thought there wouldn’t be one. But there was. And you know, that would’ve been okay if I had that expectation, but I didn’t. So Patrick didn’t actually come on until 11:05, or possibly later. And you know, maybe that would’ve been okay if I didn’t live in NJ and thus could only stay for about half an hour of his performance before having to catch the last train home.

It wouldn’t be much of a problem if I lived in NYC. And headlining artists starting reallllly late is nothing new. I guess I’m coming to the point where as much as I like music, all the standing around and doing nothing doesn’t make going to concerts seem worth it anymore, unless I love the artist to death.

black wig

I don’t love Patrick Wolf to death, but I like him enough to have wanted to see him live.  He puts on a great show and I was disappointed that I couldn’t stay for more of it. He seems to put every ounce of his being into…everything. With the help of glitter. Buckets of it.

unicorn power

I forgot what song he used the theremin for, but…he did. And that was cool. Because. …You don’t see that very often. And as one of my friends pointed out, he has a unicorn tattoo on his chest. Another thing you don’t see very often.

costume change

He changed his outfit after a few songs into a full bodysuit with red and black stripes. Or squiggles. Or somethings. Maybe it helps soak up the…sweat.

violins

And here are MULTIPLE VIOLINS.

I remember a few songs into the concert some seemingly hardcore fans (although not hardcore enough to actually come earlier) shoved/body slammed their way to the front of the crowd. Haha! Humans. Funny.

This wasn’t a concert review, more just a record of my rambling, which is what all my blogs are for. I still haven’t bought tickets for The Innocence Mission, but I’m pretty sure they’d go on stage earlier than 11 PM.

Sleepy.

bescarfed

Sometimes before going to a super awesome concert, I get that jittery feeling. Or the feeling that my blood cells are going to explode. You know, tingly, on the verge of happiness-induced death. Hopefully you know the feeling.

I didn’t feel that way before seeing Andrew Bird at Union Hall last night. Maybe the cozy, “just like your friend’s basement” setting put me at ease. Or not. Despite that I was very excited and have been intensely listening to Andrew’s music for the past few months, there was no tingle, not even when my friend pointed out that we’d be standing just a few feet away from him.

All I did was expect greatness. Yup, that’s it. Perfection in an imperfect way. And I feel like that’s what I got.

yes, the room is very colorful

The band quietly went on stage in front of the 100-odd crowd and went into…awesomeness. Andrew is like some crazy perfect whistling machine who can pluck/play violin and guitar while playing footsie with his delay modeler (good god, I want one) making sure to plink on the xylophone every now and then and spin the giant thingamabobber when he feels like throwing violin sound waves around the room and ARRGH, IT’S CRAZINESS, YOU JUST WONDER WHY NO ONE ELSE WILL EVER BE AS COOL AS ANDREW BIRD.

…

Or something.

squinty

It’s peaceful craziness. His voice. HIS VOICE. His…oh whatever, I can’t really describe it. Ridiculously beautiful? Yes. It wraps around you like a blanket. That’s my favorite kind of voice—the warm soft blankety voice. But I’m sure this kind of voice varies with different people. And there are different kinds of blankets. I would call Andrew a…quilt. Maybe. A large fluffy homemade quilt.

There were some sound issues, but to me the show was perfect. I felt…comfortable. Like I was surrounded by friendly people. And the show didn’t start at some crazy late night that would result in me crawling back to my apartment after midnight. He started around 8 PM and played for about two hours. I sadly watched his gargantuan tour bus roll down Union Street sometime after 11 PM, signaling the end of the night. Or any will to live.

…just kidding. I’ll be seeing him again in May at Webster Hall. It won’t be nearly as awesome as last night, but it’s a million times better than nothing.

Setlist:

Intro
Imitosis
Fiery Crash
Spare-Ohs
Dear Dirty
Heretics
Simple-X
The Supine
Armchairs
Skin
Scythian Empire
Dark Matter
—
Oh Sister
Glass Figurine

Update: Some more reviews…

Fists With Your Toes
Daily Refill

I’m pleasantly surprised that I got this “switching servers” thing to work without too much swearing or hair pulling. One lil’ problem I had was that while I used an anti-spam plugin before, all the spam comments that I thought had been deleted were actually still roaming around in my mysql database. All 9000+ of em. I didn’t have enough phpmyadmin prowess to figure out a painless way to delete the bulk of them at once while keeping the legitimate comments, so that process was kind of a huge ass pain in the bum. I think a lot of them are still there, actually.

Oops.

Armchair Apocrypha

The only thing that made me happy yesterday was receiving Andrew Bird’s new album in the mail, Armchair Apocrypha. (Also, I think the redesign of his website is byootiful. Thank you, Mr. Web Dude.) This album is awesome. Because. BECAUSE. ARGH! AWESOMNESS. Listen to some new tracks; isn’t it awesome? Yes.

I had no more adjectives to give you.

Mew!

I saw Mew last Thursday for my first concert-going experience in a while. And they were great. But I was really tired. And thirsty. A sip of my friend’s noxious rum and Sprite did nothing for me except make me hate alcohol even more than I already do. Mew is a magical band, but I think they’re better experienced with enough hydration and not while standing next to a girl screeching, “I LOVE YOU JONAS!” after every song and singing along during Mew’s biggest hits, or the songs I’d rather hear come out of Jonas’s mouth more so than the girl next to me. Not that I don’t understand her enthusiam…because I do. Just. God. I dunno.

Ever since I turned 21 I’ve felt like an old bearded dude trying to get young whippersnappers off his lawn. Damn kidz.

But I have to see Andrew Bird at Webster Hall on May 17th and pray I don’t stand next to a screaming Andrew Bird-obsessed fan.

Andrew Bird, May 17th at Webster Hall

Panda Bear, June 23 at Bowery Ballroom

I am so lazy that that’s all I want to see for the rest of the year. If at all.

Peter is blurry

Posting about a concert a week after I’ve gone to it is somewhat pointless. But I’m really lazy. So lazy that I sat in the balcony at the Peter Bjorn and John concert last Tuesday at Bowery Ballroom. I only sit in the balcony at the insistence of friends, but I was thankful that night to plop my bum down for a few hours and not have my nose squished against the back of an obscenely tall guy (because I almost always end up behind an obscenely tall guy) or suffer from “the nerve endings in my feet have died” syndrome.

crowd

I would have never known the show/crowd was so “bad” if I hadn’t read Brooklyn Vegan’s immediate response to the show. Hmmm. Um. Well, I didn’t go to the first two shows. I’d say that the Bowery show was a lot like the first time I saw them, except I was looking at the band from a different angle. I must be one of those people most other people hate—the kind that doesn’t dance (a rock could dance better than me) or seemingly move to any kind of beat. I sat quietly and still the entire time while staring at the band. That’s how I soak it in. Don’t like it? Eh.

You can download live mp3s from ryspace (plus a few more). I wasn’t annoyed at all by Bjorn’s memory lapse during Amsterdam. It may have bothered me if another artist did it, but Bjorn…nah. They played my favorite songs (The Chills, Up Against the Wall…oh, and that really popular single I overheard someone whistle the other day. Over and over again and over again. DO NOT WHISTLE THE SONG, YOU WILL ONLY KILL IT) and they looked happy while doing it. More people were talking during the show than I would’ve liked, but you can’t do much about that. The show was enjoyable and I left feeling tired and satisfied.

snow?

…And cold. It’s snowing? W-T-F? Ah well, it made the otherwise gloomy Bowery look a bit prettier.

Janet sent out a mass email asking if any of us wanted to see Peter Bjorn & John at Mercury Lounge on January 29th or 30th.

Um…hell yeah?

ow, my eyes

Annnnd thus I am inspired to write about the PB&J concert I went to nearly two weeks ago. (I’ve been a bit busy/lazy lately. It’s finals week and I somehow need to not fail things while say goodbye to people and eat as much in Paris as possible and buy a million gifts and blah blah blah, not that I’m complaining or anything considering that when I walk out of my apartment and turn left I have a full-on view of the Eiffel Tower.)

I disappointingly took very few trips for someone who is studying abroad for one semester, but I managed to plan a weekend trip to London that coincided with the concert. Which was great because there were no concerts I wanted to go to in Paris (or by the time I found out I wanted to go, it was too late).

twinkly

After wandering around under the depressingly early sun-less sky, I met up with my awesome host/longtime Internet friend Leanne, ate a burger for the first time in months, and we both made our way through the chilly weather to ULU.

Peter

Standing in the venue was the most New York City-esque experience I had since leaving NYC. Being squished up against the stage reminded me of the Bowery Ballroom, except…smaller. With additional legal cigarette smoke. And with everyone speaking English.

Bjorn, Peter

I was most struck by how differently they played their songs live as opposed to on the album. Not that they replaced their instruments with chainsaws or anything like that, but…ye know, more noticably different than live performances of other live artists. Either I was really tired, or they made some of their songs longer. Or maybe some songs just feel long, like one of my favorites:

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Peter Bjorn & John – The Chills

It feels endless to me, but it’s only 3 minutes and 50 seconds long. Uh. Maybe it’s just my inherent lethargy.

Victoria, Peter

Victoria Bergsman came out in some ridiculously cute purple dress + vest outfit (you will rarely ever hear me comment on people’s clothing; I usually don’t give a crap) to sing her part for “Young Folks” while Peter did some furious shaker shaking. This song was obviously everyone’s favorite song.

Bjorn, John

Oh yeah, there are other members of the band; I just didn’t get good photos of them. Although Peter and Bjorn did the most talking, John did randomly get a few words in, which were somehow the only words that stuck in my head. He mentioned that the band usually ate Thai food, but went for Japanese food that night instead, consisting of some fish on rice thing. I didn’t get the impression from his nonchalant manner that he was trying to be funny; there was just…something funny about it. The randomness.

The setlist went something like:

* Let’s Call It Off
* See Through
* The Chills
* Paris 2004
* Far Away, By My Size
* Start to Melt
* Big Black Coffin
* Amsterdam
* Young Folks
* Objects of My Affection
* Up Against the Wall

…not including the possibly 4 songs during the encore.

I know this is one of the least enthusiastic reviews one could possibly write, but I really did enjoy the concert aside from the subsequent stench of smoke in my clothing. That night I ended up going to sleep much earlier than usual if it’s any testament to my tired-ness.

I think $15 is alright for their Mercury Lounge show. WHY MUST YOU WHINE? The London show was 10 pounds, aka almost $20. Yes, that exchange rate makes my eyes bleed too. The only souvenirs I brought back from London were four packs of biscuits and a Cadbury advent calendar.

— update-ish —

The Mercury Lounge shows seem to have sold out already. Oooops.

A friend told me that Mew and Magnet were playing at Bowery Ballroom. Huuuh. So I take a lookie at the calendar and for November 3rd I see…a show with a gazillion artists (for the CMJ music marathon) including Mew and Magnet. What the shizz? WHAT IS THIS MONSTROSITY?

I mean, I’d love to go, even if they only played 2 songs each. Or one. Or none. I’d just want to be in their presence.

Hohum.

WHAT THE SHIZZ.

Update (10/14): Nevermind, Magnet isn’t playing for CMJ or opening for Imogen Heap beacuse he’s finishing his new album. I guess that’s a valid reason. :\

—

I’d also want to go to Brooklyn Vegan’s CMJ showcase at Pianos on November 1st. It’s free! And I’d love to see Loney, Dear (actually, that is the only artist in the lineup I’m really interested in). Download some Loney, Dear mp3 clips (or listen at myspace). It took me a while to get into Solonge, but it’s…lovely. So. Yes. That’s all I can come up with. CJ gave me the CD sometime during the summer without explanation. I listened; I liked. That’s how we roll.

Magnet will support Imogen Heap during her North American tour this November and December. Of course, I’m a flaming huge Magnet fan, but I’d like to see Imogen too. Which is why it pains me even more than I won’t be able to go to any of the shows. CRUEL FATE. And now that I’m 21 I know that no stupid age restrictions could keep me out of anywhere. Out of all things (other things being “death”, “freak explosion” and the like), being in the wrong country that screws me over. Doh.

Check out excessive live Magnet photos COMING ATCHA.

Remember that aforementioned Techno Parade thing? I didn’t go. Or rather, I went, but didn’t see it. I thought it would start at noon, but I found out it started at 2-something. Hm…yeah, okay.

Anyone want to recommend some music to me? YES, DO IT. I haven’t been listening to much lately since I’ve been going to school and eating stuff (these are two highly time consuming activities). Peter Bjorn and John is still my main source of auditory pleasure. I’m saddened that I missed them in Paris, but all my sources continue to warn me not to enter the 20th arrondissement of death.

Michel Gondry is the master of awesomeness, or at least one of the top 5. Read an awesome feature on him by The New York Times. Register if you have to and then read the WHOLE THING. No skimming. Skimming is not awesome.