Type Slowly.

Expanded. Now with less rock critic.

Tab One:
It’s hard to say which came first, the indie rock scene or Pavement’s perfection of it, but in the early ‘90s Pavement arrived and their fast growing roster of heavy-on-the-pop post-punk tunes took hold and indie rock history followed. Crafty pop jams built with witty lyrics, treble-kicking guitars, plunging bass lines and Ringo-rivaling drums defined their sound. “Cut Your Hair,” their largest single from their bestselling, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, showcased their mastery of the low-fi edge, while their preceding Ode to a Cool Chick love song, “Summer Babe,” mastered distorted instruments for a chic and inviting pop anthem. But Pavement’s greatest mastery was their profoundly evolving sound. Take Wowee Zowee’s “Rattled By the Rush,” where gliding melodies present Pavement’s musical interpretation of a Nashville urban sprawl, all the while still retaining Pavement’s boyish charm.

Next up, Pavement’s profoundly evolving sound.

Tab Two:
The thing about Pavement is you come for their raucous attitude, but you stay for their welcoming veneer. When Wowee Zowee arrived, many fans wondered where the noisy jams went but weren't upset by the thoughtful orchestration of their new slower pace – somehow the music seemed friendlier. So as Pavement matured, so did their fans. Songs became melancholy with a psychedelic circus quality, as in, “Motion Suggests,” where keyboards slowly swirled amidst carefully syncopated guitars and washboard instruments or songs became brilliant as heard in Pavement’s Terror Twilight and Brighten The Corners. On these last albums, a great melding of passion and practice create spot-on pop music like the apparent love song, “Spit On a Stranger,” or the tuneful, “Shady Lane.”

Not You Again.

Well, this time it's because I've asked to help some friends with some marketing things they do.
Although my fanaticism for them is well known, I have never actually written about Pavement. It's too scary.
I just have so much emotion tied up into that elitist little band so I fear being judged by them - and the worst... failing.
So. Shit. Had to happen some time.
Here's this new bit from an old bit.

Pavement, America’s DIY-minstrels of Northern California suburbia, were the anglophilic, terse lads often thought to have saved as well as recreated 20-Something rock during the ‘90s. Their first substantial applause came with, “Cut Your Hair,” a tongue-in-cheek anthem belaboring the commodification of music behind looks, a standard tenet of rock n’ roll. However “Cut Your Hair’s” strong lackadaisical musicianship and well-structured lyrical wit spoke a convincing argument and Pavement was pushed to the front of the line of the Indie Legion’s neo-post-DIY movement. Fast forwarding from “CYH,” check out “Rattled By The Rush.” Once again, Pavement’s dedication to emphatic melodies, orchestration and technique trumps their lack of any real guitar lessons and delivers a song full of pure Tour de Force. Rewinding the cassette, stop at their cool-chick love song, “Summer Babe.” It’s noisy, it’s chic and it’s so inviting, showcasing Pop that makes you beg for more.

Was it a need to mature their sound or just mature? Next up, Pavement grows up.

Not Tonight.

Is there such a thing as "Going Out Burn-Out"? I have it.

After 20 some odd years of what I call, "aggressive going out," I have pretty much lost my ability to tolerate a show. I get bored. The consideration of going, the ticket dilema, the waiting to go, the day of, the outfit, the shoes, the loss of comfortable couch and early pajamas, the creeping fatigue, the drive over, the parking, the price of parking, the walking to avoid the fee of parking, the talking loudly so you can be heard and hear your compatriot, the compratriotism, the other compatriots at the show, their small-talk, the expensive diet coke, the opening band, your band, the threat of an encore, the audience and then finally, the joy of going home, so tired, it's the middle of the week, you have to go to work tomorrow, to a job where people eMail you how shitty you are, only because they don't believe you're a human, maybe even a nice girl, knows a few jokes, has a boyfriend who likes to play with her, enjoys writing, fumbling with music and learning to draw, photography too, wants nothing more than to do a good job in spite of you and not a hideous, emotionless, idiot droid.

Unless I can sit at the show.



So what do I like now? What do I want to do?

I like to read four books at once, fifth being a dictionary. I like to listen to music at home, comfortable and warm, leaving the pomp away. I like to watch baseball. I like to play cut and paste with musical programs. I like to doodle. I like to write. I like to look at photography. Hiking in parks oddly placed. Bicycles. I dream.

Paris, et Je Suis Chic

Je suis Francophile. J'etude dans la classe des adults and (so cute) even once saw my eye doctor at the campus taking a class des adults painters.

But I'm just saying I really love Paris. French. France. I love Paris. I love the language and the tres jolies filles plus chics. It's so fun to put the sentences together. You sound so petite and tart. Plus magnifique. Alors, plus magnetique.

This is my segue to a new favorite song and a band I'm really enjoying. Ils sont plus magnetique. Ladies and Gentleman, The Friendly Fires...

They even came to the station but they did not play what I hear now. I missed them. I wish I hadn't. They sing a song called, Paris...

One day we're gonna live in Paris
I promise
I'm on it

It continues...

And every night we'll watch the stars
They'll be out for us
They'll be out for us
And every night, the city lights
They'll be out for us
They'll be out for us

Fantasy, identity through beauty and totally silly. It goes on that their partner will find that him French girl, he'll find her that French boy. Excusez-moi? Pour-quoi? Alors... nonsense. But I have this fantasy. It has slightly sophisticated electronic undertones and throughout it, I feel skinny and chic. The perfect song.

If I Knew You Were Coming...

I'm baking cakes. Actually, I've only made cookies. One batch enjoyed over one week. We finished the batch yesterday. I miss them.

Being that we're talking cookies, it's like making a really good pop song. Easy to enjoy, tastes so good and it's just a bunch of sugar. I love it!

It's because I have a kitchen now. I hadn't for years and the years that I did anyway, I wasn't available to the idea of making jams in the kitchen. And I probably will make a jam. However, just like the way I take my music, it will probably have a strange bite that layers extreme tastes with intricate flavors and a bizarre spice behind it. But with its essence being in pop music, I'll no doubt want more. Hm. Poppy Seed Jam.

I should make this jam.

My neighborhood is a find. I can't believe that more people or rather "people" or rather my scenster brethren don't live here. We've got every culinary delight from sushi to Indian to vegan to gourmet to... I want to say something about the Indian. There's a popular Krishna temple here and the food complements this spiritual authenticity. One restaurant, Annapurna Cuisine, is quite delish. The atmosphere is negligible but the staff is very kind and the food is great with light, tasty, healthful preparations like Dosa - a South Indian crepe made from fresh rice and lentil dough, stuffed with vegetables and served with some freakin' awesome chutneys.

I need to learn how to make chutney.


Dosa featuring Indian Cafeteria Chair

But my town is bike friendly with plenty of AFFORDABLE shops, way close to hipster Venice (also my just former residence and place of formative raising) and all of its accouterments, is rather centrally located in L.A. and is so on the freeway system that the late night venues aren't tricky and the rent is mighty cheap. See. All the makings of a town for The Kids.

But back to the baking. And my town and baking. It's known for some fine feederies, so the gourmet chef shop Surfas is sort of no surprise. Surfas also takes the discount program I run with Beth at KCRW so I get 10% off and I can thank my sweet stars for it.

So here I go. I'm rocking out. I want to bake cakes, pies and cookies, prepare mixes and frostings and incredible displays. I love the idea of having people enjoy the sweets. I'm easy prey to this. My boyfriend also features a bottomless stomach and no fat so I've got a fan base and I go to #1 with a bullet. Or batter.


Cake Atari

Numbers are So Cool

Everything has a neat name. Everything has cache. Especially if you use the number of it. Like me. I'm No. 1. Or my apartment address is #10. We're a 10. Get it?

I finally saw Gang Gang Dance tonight. I wasn't expecting a dance party like they gave. I felt like I was in New York. I've never been. I also wasn't poorly affected by the young age of most of the audience and actually really enjoyed a lot of the sincerity I saw from them. They weren't so indie rock. They were artsy punk and having a lot of fun. Hooray! Cool shoes.

Gang Gang Dance have not sold out at this hour. This was a thought I had. Did I miss their heydey? Would the cool kids not be there because they've already seen it all? GGD has something out on Warp now but I don't know if they're a Warp band for keeps. But their funk would have me think so.

Drums, guitar, keys, samplers, drum pads, loops, two drums for the singer and a tip of my hat for Ari Up meets Nina Hagen on the dance floor. They covered an MBV song too. Holy Shit. I turned aghast to Ahn, first afraid of a blatant rip off of "I Only Said"'s opening trill. Then the similarity didn't end and we agreed - it was a cover. I always used MBV as part of my Gang Gang Dance description.

Sick Of It All.

Opened the latest Spaceland Blast eMail - this covers Spaceland (hardly go to anymore), The Echo, Echoplex and others. But mostly those tres L.A. nightlife hot spots.

Every time I am disturbed with something, there's always another something reviling within me first.

Fine. I know.

So anyways... I open the eMail and there they are, staring back at me - lackadaisical and scruffy, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, politically well read for current propositions, beer drinkers. I think I have an attitude problem.

Actually, I know I do.

But truly. Move me to the farm. I just want to make art. Aye! There's the rub.

Open this post and here I am, starting back at you - bitchy, opinionated, breathless in a state of perpetual chafe, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, well read in all politics.

Every Friday and Saturday Night...

I'll just say one thing, God is good. Miriam Makeba died on stage singing and singing Pata Pata.

When I was probably 10 I found my dad's copy of Miriam Makeba's first album. Lucky little girl to find this spirit of Miriam Makeba's sweet foreign sound. After I discovered Miriam, it was years before I would consider a spin with her husband Hugh Masekela's LP. How could he compare? Would I dance around and sing like that? Hard to consider that from a trumpeter. But that was the humor and dedication. Couldn't risk missing listening to her.

I sang along with no idea what I was saying. She was just so groovy and it was so good. She had joy. She makes you discover that a wiggle is a dance and your smile is your groove.

The song that got me the most was The Click Song. I loved her introduction explaining the click was referring to her dialect. But what I loved the most was how she belted out those last notes, so loud and full. She chimes and resonates like jubilant honey. You swear you're living for real now. You have discovered bliss. You've discovered heaven on earth.

The Garden of Earthly Delights

Chris' new job - The Thirty Meter Telescope.

That's a big telescope. He actually worked on some of the designs a few years back. The Canadians took it, didn't do much so he's going to do it again. Here's what they say: "A 30-meter telescope, operating in wavelengths ranging from the ultraviolet to the mid-infrared, is an essential tool to address questions in astronomy ranging from understanding star and planet formation to unraveling the history of galaxies and the development of large-scale structure in the universe. The 30-meter aperture permits the telescope to focus more sharply than smaller telescopes by using the power of diffraction of light. The large aperture also collects more light than smaller scopes, allowing images of fainter objects. TMT will therefore reach further and see more clearly than previous telescopes by a factor of 10 to 100 depending on the observation."

Dig? Word.

I like the new telescope project. Now Chris wants to go to camping possibly so we can enjoy the starry sky he's building to. I love to camp.


So bailout the car companies - they are too big to let drop. BUT they must Go Green. Create jobs by creating Green Jobs. Same thing as when we made military ships during Truman but now we're Green and peaceful.

Make It Happen.

We've waited for this day for so long. My only fear is that my deepest wishes will be crushed and I can't leave the country right now.

I have so many friends that have declared a black-out on results, news, polls, everything until tomorrow. If I could take a sleeping pill I would. But I work at the one agency that is dedicated to minute-by-minute news coverage and reporting.

I'm excited. I'm being quiet.

I did an absentee ballot. With moving and not knowing where I would be today and all that could go wrong, I didn't want to have to be encumbered by driving to Venice for a long line of voting. Truth is, I need to be at work. I miss my, "I Voted," sticker but a better world will stick around longer!

I didn't even consider the lines that are evolving. But the lines aren't really frightening me like people will give up and go home. People are going to vote. However, we should probably consider as a country, two days of voting in the future. Anyhoo...

Yesterday Toots passed. When Obama spoke about her, he talked about how just being good was enough for her.

This is why I want him to be our President and leader. I think he already is our leader.

Swimming Pool

I dreamt I swam in my new pool. I swam poorly but in reality I am a fish. I dove and kept cruising right to the bottom. Couldn't find my swimsuit then *BLING*, a Magic Dream Swimsuit appeared. A one piece.

After the winds die down I hope it's warm enough at least to enjoy some laps in it. It's so small, I hope I can make a lap in it. Its safety insurance bars are annoying and funny looking. But I want to swim in it still.



I dreamt that a bag lady started yelling at me, trying to freak me out. I wasn't having it. She didn't know I wasn't the one to pull that shit on. She got it.

So that was weird and so was diving to the pool in my Magic Dream Swimsuit. Do you ever think about what Hilary Clinton dreamt of after Sarah Palin got on the McCain ticket? I mean the symbolism driven by so much depression, anger, pride and fear must've been so juicy.

Loosing My Mind.

Just am.