The Graffiti of Rome

I clearly ran out of time when visiting Rome recently.
I might need to go back just to take graffiti pictures.
Oh, and eat way more pizza.
Click for larger size at Flickr.

 

Is this MBW, Mr. Brain Wash? Or it just looks like him?
In the San Lorenzo “hipster/University-ish” neighborhood of San Lorenzo

 

 

Cannot translate this properly?
It’s something like “Anywhere food is served, I am taken advantage of…”

 

 


Saw this sentiment more than once.

 


Lots of ROMES.

 


Rome makes you Rome?

 

 

 


Not a Banksy.

 


Hellraiser- spotted near St. Thomas In Urbe University

 


Woody Allen?

 

 

 


And now, the romantic stuff, just in time for Valentine’s Day

 


There is no amount of distance that can separate us.

 


I think of you -

 


I love you -

 


You the most dear thing that I have -

 


I beg you – forgive me! I love you.

Citizenrobot’s Best Live Musical Moments of 2009


Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings at Club Nokia

 


TV on the Radio, Coachella 2009

 


My Bloody Valentine, Coachella 2009

 


Black Moth Super Rainbow at the Troubadour

 


School of Seven Bells at the Troubadour

 


Dean and Britta and Andy Warhol’s screen tests at the John Anson Ford

 


Worst photo ever, I know Bat for Lashes at the El Rey

 


Phoenix at the Wiltern

 


Deerhoof at the Echoplex

 


Built to Spill, Sunset Junction 2009

 


Devendra Banhart, Soho Restaurant (Santa Barbara, CA)

 


The Thermals, F Yeah Fest

 


Tenacious D, Winston Calling benefit show at the Echoplex

 


Black Francis, Winston Calling benefit at the Echoplex

 

Sadly, I did not take any photos at the Grizzly Bear show at the Wiltern. We were in the second to last row!

Inappropriate/Appropriate Movie Reviews: Avatar


Inappropriate:

I like the hot Terminator guy.  Easy on the eyes, but the movies, they are not so good!  In that way, he reminds me of my other favorite, the Stath.

Appropriate:
This fantasy epic packs the emotional & political simplicity of a Disney cartoon for children coupled with magical blacklight-glowing million dollar egotistical-director-guy visuals. Sure, it’s downright beautiful, Cameron’s writing and dialogue are often chortle-worthy in their simplicity. The bad guys are really bad. The good guys are really good. And blue. And the blue guys are living a peaceful existence on top of a ridiculously-named element called ‘Unobtanium’ desired by “the sky people”, namely us – depicted here as imperialistic, blood-thirsty corporate killers (hmm!). Despite the “big budget writing” (read: pretty silly writing) and the Mel  Gibson-y battle monologues, it’s easy to fall for the charms of Avatar, as it takes you soaring through an imaginary iridescent world teeming with life – and the 3D makes it feel even more immersive.

Still, it’s hard for me to say I disliked it, but just as hard to tell you to go see it.  How about this. It’s like a perfect bacon-wrapped filet mignon…stuffed with nacho cheese.  Some people will really wish they could eat that, THIS SECOND, and other people know they would never go there.

Movie Lists: Movies That Already SOUND Like Porn Titles

At work, we sit around geeking out about movies. It’s our job. Sometimes I wish you could be there, because it gets downright silly and amazing.  This is a list of titles culled from many people, I do not claim total credit. But I DO claim credit for typing it up, you basterds.

3 Men and a Little Lady (ew, you guys)
8 1/2
8 Women
Anaconda
Balls of Fury
Big
Big Daddy
Bigger, Faster, Stronger
The Black Hole
Black Snake Moan
Blow
Bones
Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia
Brute Force
The Cable Guy
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Dark Passage
Deep Impact
Deep Rising
Dick
Die Hard
Dirty Harry
Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (a great foreign hidden gem of a chick flick, btw)
Double Impact
Driving Miss Daisy (mentioned by multiple perv-nerds)
Earth Girls are Easy
Easy Rider
Freddy Got Fingered
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Giant
Gigantic
Good Dick
Good Boy!
Good Times (Yes, TV inclusion. Apologies to Florida as well.)
Grease
Guys and Dolls
Hard Eight
Hard Lessons
Hard Target
Hard Times (ew, the non-Dickens version stars the never-sexy Charles Bronson)
Head
Holes
Home Alone
Hot Fuzz
Hot Rod
Hot Shots!
The Harder They Come
The Hustler
In the Heat of the Night
Indecent Proposal
Jack
Juice
Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
Kiss Me, Kate
Magnum Force
Malcolm in the Middle (TV yes, I know, but also, clearly needs to be on the list)
Midnight Meat Train
The Naked Civil Servant
The Naked Gun
The Naked Jungle
The Naked Kiss (highly recommended lurid Sam Fuller flick)
The Naked Prey
Nuts
Pecker
Pee Wee’s Big Adventure
Ride the Pink Horse
The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming
Scent of a Woman
Shaft
Snatch
Some Like It Hot
The Strange Love of Martha Ivers
Stroker Ace (EWW Burt Reynolds makes my skin crawl)
Swing Time
The Tender Trap
The Third Man
Twins
Two-Fisted Gentleman
Up!
Valley of the Dolls
What’s New, Pussycat?
What’s Up, Doc?
What’s Up, Tigerlily?
The Women

A Tom Cruise 5 pack:
Top Gun
The Firm
Days of Thunder
A Few Good Men
Risky Business

A Pedro Almodovar 3-fer
The Flower of My Secret
Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down
Live Flesh

A Woody Allen 3-fer!
Bananas
Hannah and Her Sisters
Melinda and Melinda

A Hitchcock 5-fer!
Frenzy
Rear Window
Rope (for you bondage fans out there)
Young and Innocent
Easy Virtue

And I’m sure the ghost of John Wayne is gonna come for me, but check out how many of HIS titles sound porny:
Ride Him, Cowboy
The Cowboys
His Private Secretary
The Star Packer
Westward Ho
Tall in the Saddle
Angel and the Badman
Big Jim McClain
Cast a Giant Shadow
Chisum (yeah, I’m being that immature right now)
Big Jake

Most pretentious:
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover — God I hate Peter Greenaway.

What happens when you need Viagra? You have A Brief Encounter.
And what happens when you boink the wrong people? You get The Seven Year Itch.

Credits: Netflixians Jon, Lucia & Benji
Non-Netflixians via Twitter: @seepoe @junclecee @frumpy @cowineco @dagamant @strangling @fillup @danellej02 @iomegadrive @xina @damienragsdale

For no reason whatsoever, here’s a picture of Sean Connery in Zardoz:

Werner Herzog Opens Crazy Film School!

“There will be no talk of shamans, of yoga classes, nutritional values, herbal teas, discovering your Boundaries and Inner Growth.”

Ha, Werner is such a mega bad ass. Seriously. He hates so much of our modern world and it’s that maverick outsider viewpoint that informs all his work.  Instead of classes on editing and cinematography, you’ll take a unit in ”the exhilaration of being shot at unsuccessfully.”

Werner Herzog opens Rogue Film School

Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds



Inglourious Basterds is certainly the ultimate revenge fantasy for every Jewish person on the planet, but Tarantino also gives all of us a “much better” ending to WWII, involving righteous beat downs, scalpings, Mexican stand-offs, and most improbably and most wonderfully, an UFA movie premiere, crammed to the gills with every evil Nazi asshole you can name from your high school history class.

In a strange way, this is clearly Tarantino’s most Spielberg-y movie, but unlike Spielberg, who plays his history fiddle as seriously as possible with great significance and studio system grandeur, Tarantino taps in to our most deepest of longings – to see the Nazis really get what they deserve.  Schindler’s List was about a good German standing up for his victims and is ultimately *mostly* a story of his redemption.  Here, in Tarantino’s world, the victims don’t need a good German. They only need a rambling pack of violence fans (aka, the Basterds, lead by a hilariously-super-American Brad Pitt), who bludgeon and scalp Nazi footsoldiers.

The other hero in Tarantino’s world is Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent), a Jewish girl who escaped the slaughter of her family by the “Jew Hunter” Colonel Landa (the excellent Christoph Waltz, who should be nominated for an Oscar post haste).  Just like in Tarantino’s beloved spaghetti westerns, she waits for years to enact her revenge and gets her chance to strike back when Goebbels himself wants to premiere his newest film in her Paris movie theater.  Her tart relationship with a smitten Nazi war hero (Daniel Bruhl) turned Nazi movie star feels like something ripped out of Leone. Every single one of their conversations is full of an anxious push pull.  Substitute Laurent for Eastwood and Bruhl for Van Cleef and voila! You’ll see the roots of Tarantino’s inspiration.

(I also can’t help but feel like Tarantino saw Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood and was like, “I can do that too!  I can be historical, and feature great monologues for actors, and cut from a scene of intense violence to a scene of intense calm and somberness?” )

Did I mention that Winston Churchill is in there?  And even Mike Myers as an aristocratic high-ranking British officer? How about a beautiful German actress double agent (Diane Kruger aka Bridget Von Hammersmark)?  And horror director Eli Roth, nicknamed the “Jew Bear” whose speciality is thwomping Nazi skulls with a baseball bat? Maybe Brad Pitt’s accent and mugging as Aldo Raine might bother you at some point, but when you see him in a suave white tuxedo attempting to speak Italian at a Nazi mixer, you’ll see the inherent absurdity in such a character.

It’s an orgy of violence interspersed with a lot of loving shout-outs to cinema – UFA, G.W. Pabst, Alfred Hitchcock, John Ford’s The Searchers, a little smidgen of Wong Kar Wai/Christopher Doyle, and every Sergio Leone movie ever made. I’m only surprised that Leni Riefenstahl herself didn’t make a surprise appearance.

But basically, yeah, dude.  It’s Tarantino.

PS Yes, there is a woman’s foot in it. You know Q loves women’s feet.  Women are barefoot in nearly all his movies except Reservoir Dogs…

Movie Consumption: Susan Sontag

There’s only one place where I find copious name-dropping acceptable, and it’s in the pages of a book. I love reading a book to also find out it’s also going to give me lists of people/other books/artworks/films/recipes to dive into and research. PLUS books are g great lo-fi entertainment – wow, the words are so 1D! It’s the bookish little grad student in me, yearning for some kind of curriculum years after school has passed. (Editor’s note: I ain’t ever going back to school. But yes, I am this nerdy.)

I recently finished reading volume 1 of Susan Sontag’s personal journals (1947-1963) and discovered that her daily diary was full of lists of philosophers, books and best yet – MOVIES. So I decided to do the nerdiest thing possible and list them all out here. So here it is, every film mentioned by Susan Sontag in a 16 year span…


Ironically enough, the first two films mentioned in her journals were peep-show kind of flicks she noticed were playing in Chicago when she visited:
Love in a Nudist Colony
The Naked Truth – Uncut

Le Diable Au Corps (1947, Claude Autant-Lara)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920, Robert Wiene)

The Last Laugh (1924, F.W. Murnau)

For Whom The Bell Tolls (1942, Sam Wood)

Penny Serenade (1941, George Stevens)

Wuthering Heights (1939, William Wyler)

Blossoms in the Dust (1941, Mervyn LeRoy)

Stella Dallas — (1937, King Vidor) Sontag gets Joan Crawford mixed up with Barbara Stanwyck in her notes on this film

An Affair to Remember (1957, Leo McCarey) (she called it awful!)

A Kid for 2 Farthings (1955, Carol Reed) (liked this one more)

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957, Terrence Fisher)

Three Forbidden Stories (1952, Augusto Genina)

The River’s Edge (1957, Allan Dwan)

Les Maitres Fous (1955, Jean Rouch)La Nuit de forains AKA Det regnar på vår kärlek (1946, Ingmar Bergman)

Battleship Potempkin (1925, Eisenstein)

Les enfants du paradis (1945, Marcel Carne)

Monkey Business (1931, Norman McLeod)

L’Alibi (1937, Pierre Chenal)

Modern Times (1936, Charles Chaplin)

Grand Hotel (1932, Edmund Goulding)

Witness for the Prosecution (1957, Billy Wilder)

Foolish Wives (1922, Erich Von Stroheim)

Kanal (1957, Andrzej Wajda)

Summer with Monika (1952, Ingmar Bergman)

Notti Bianchi (1957, Luchino Visconti)

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch)

Broken Blossoms (1919, D.W. Griffith)

Sept peches capitaux et l’ecriture sainte (1910, Louis Feuillade)

West of the Law (1926, Ben Wilson)

Cradle of Courage (1920, Lambert Hillyer)

Hands Up! (1926, Clarence C. Badger)

The Misfits (1961, John Huston)

Morocco (1930, Josef von Sternberg)

The Public Enemy (1931, William Wellman)

Paths of Glory (1957, Stanley Kubrick)

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955, Ingmar Bergman)

The Last Ten Days (1955, Georg Pabst)

Riders of the Purple Sage (1926, Lynn Reynolds)

The Grand Maneuver (1956, Rene Clair)

The Big Sleep (1946, Howard Hawks)

Casque d’or (1952, Jacques Becker)

Casablanca (1942, Michael Curtiz)

Crazy for Love (1952, Jean Boyer, stars Brigitte Bardot)

Wild Love (1955, Mauro Bolognini)

Fragment of an Empire (1929, Fridrikh Ermler)

Henry V (1944, Laurence Olivier)

The Ghost Goes West (1935, Rene Clair)

I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932, Mervyn Le Roy)

The Maltese Falcon (1941, John Huston)

Broadway Express

(Michael Blackwood short -18 mins)Black and White Burlesque (1960, Richard Preston short – 3 min)

Ask Me, Don’t Tell Me (1960, David Myers short – 22 min)

End of the Line (1959, Terrence Macartney-Filgate – 30 min)

The End of Summer (?, Hirshorn – 12 minutes) – Can’t find any info for this one!

Die 3 Groschen-Oper (1931, Georg Pabst)

Unfaithfully Yours (1948, Preston Sturges)

Storm Over Asia (1928, Vsevolod Pudovkin)

L’avventura (1960, Michelangelo Antonioni)

Les Liaisons Dangereuses (1959, Roger Vadim)

Mere Jeanne Des Anges (1961, Jerzy Kawalerowicz)

The Life of Oharu (1952, Kenji Mizoguchi)

Phoenix @ The Wiltern


Last night at the Wiltern, Phoenix put on one of the best shows I’ve seen all year. And I know what you’re thinking, really? Could a band with such a studio-produced sound really rock out the Wiltern?  The usually-jaded-LA crowd not only danced the entire time, but also screamed themselves hoarse and executed the slightly more tricky double-claps.Something in the air just seemed perfect for this Phoenix performance.


Were we all hurting from the sudden departure of the King of Pop? As the sweaty and satisfied audience filed out after the second encore, they began playing Michael Jackson (”Rock With You”) over the PA – and a good half of the audience stayed to dance.  That in itself was an amazing thing I’ve never seen before.  We rushed down to the floor to boogie to “The Way You Make Me Feel” but then the Wiltern management saw that the crowd wasn’t leaving, so they turned it off gently.  Wow.

10 Disturbing Images from the Michael Jackson Neverland Ranch Auction Slash Freakshow

I am a child, I have fallen, and I can’t get up…and I’m at Michael Jackson’s  ranch. This is probably the most  frightening statue we saw during this entire exhibit and we spent a lot of time grouped around it, staring at that intense cry on his face.  Why would someone buy this? – a question asked over and over again as we trolled through the Beverly Hills Hilton display of Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch collection.

This was spotted inside MJ’s tour bus, parked outside the exhibition.  We were all allowed to take a quick walk through.  Inside were two resting fire fighters (why, do they believe people will want to set fire to these precious items?), and…a stack of magazines about child-rearing.  Not child’s rears, you idiots. Child-rearing.  Is this a joke?

This is a painting completed my Macaulay Culkin. It needs to be sent to an analyst right away.  In those vicious strokes and tenative paint drippings, was Mac calling for help?  

Wow. This is just plain sad. When did Michael Jackson ever think of himself as a black man?  Did he need the book for reference?

I have no idea what this is about but I’m sure there’s a story behind it – seems like it would be for a music video. It just seems intensely creepy, especially the expression of him making faces like a child.

This exhibit was full of plenty of these life size statues.  Imagine that big house in Santa Barbara, full of these old English-seeming white people.  They brought him solace, made him feel like people were home.  But how did he not startle himself each time coming into a room?  They are literally life size and fairly real looking when you spot one out of the corner of your eye.

Of COURSE Reagan loved him.  OF COURSE.  The phrase “young people searching for something to believe in” gives me the shudders.

This photo needs to be viewed in a larger size to get the full THRUST of it. It is Michael Jackson, leading all the children of the world, down verdant hillsides.  Orthodox Jewish kids, Tibetan kids, Guatemalan kids, all of them.

Okay, maybe this isn’t very disturbing. I just looked at it and automatically saw “the family jewels”.  MJ had a LOT of kids sized furniture, tiny tricycles, rocking chairs, etc.  He seemed hell bent on buying things for the world’s largest nursery room.

And this for some reason, is one of the saddest and most disturbing images from this show – but it’s a little personal for me.  When I was in grade school, I had a birthday party during which we gave away little bags full of Michael Jackson trading cards and party favors. This was the image most used on those items and it represents for me an era of childlike worship and pop frenzy.  Whenever MJ was on TV, I knew it.  I was barely 8 years old and I owned his records.  And now, it’s all gone – or up for auction.See the entire set here

Coachella 2009: Musical Roundup

Took me a week to write this.  Getting old?  Takes days to get over the intense amounts of Vitamin D and Vitamin H (Heineken).


We lose our car on night one. We see Audrina Patridge, Aziz Ansari, Scott Speedman and Chloe Sevigny. Nobody saw the tasering of the naked wizard. We had our minds blown by the triple whammy of Public Enemy, X, and then My Bloody Valentine. The day after Coachella is the worst day all year because it’s the longest time you have to wait until the next Coachella.

Day 1:

Airborne Toxic Event — sounds like Arcade Fire (the lead vocalist Mikel Jolett sings like Win Butler and they even have a chick violinist!) but poppier and less arty. We don’t see what all the fuss is about but stick around until they play their modest radio hit “Sometime Around Midnight” (again! sounds like Arcade Fire!) before we skedaddled for the beer garden.


Black Keys (1/2 of them at least) — my guitar mentor Eric informs me there’s not much going on with this band. All the songs sound the same! Why do I like them so much? It’s just basic bluesy stuff in that White Stripes-esque-duo style. We sit through their entire set despite dissension in the ranks.


Franz Ferdinand — Written off by many due to “good looking lead singer” factor, but it’s undeserved (although Alex Kapranos is quite cute). This band is a solid live performer, no gaffes, technical difficulties or pauses as they tear through their poppy and danceable hits. Kapranos has some fun with the crowd in the very front rows, teasing the Beatles girls in the front row “Oh, are they playing?” and pointing out some well-coiffed Morrissey folks – “Look at his hair, you know he’s here for Morrissey!”


Leonard Cohen — His levels are so low we initially think we’re listening to a Leonard Cohen recording playing over the PA! But we’re not, it’s HIM. We all lean in to listen. Standing near us was a man shouting in classic frat boy style “LEONARD! CO!!!! HENNNN!” but he wasn’t teasing, the guy was a huge fan. A girl cries during Hallelujah. His back up band and vocalists are solid. For a man in his 70s the heat nor the venue did not bother him in the least. A great magical Coachella moment.

We stuck around for Silversun Pickups. I must say that Brian Aubert’s screaming doesn’t always sound so great live…but can you blame Leonard Cohen for this? To go from a low and experienced baritone to indie rock yelping isn’t the smoothest transition for the human ear…I am proud that this little LA band has played Coachella twice now. Perhaps they sound best indoors.


Macca! — Sir Paul was sad tonight, it was the 11 year anniversary of Linda’s passing and a motif of sadness wove through his set despite nearly 20 rather upbeat Beatles songs. Macca had two great moments: the first was a tribute to John, during which he sang “Here Today” which has such heartbreaking lyrics. He also came out with George Harrison’s ukulele and sang “Something”, with his top-notch band coming in for half the song. Genuinely goose-bump inducing. Have you ever heard thousands upon thousands of people singing “Drive My Car” at the top of their lungs together? Doot-doot-a-doot-doot-yeah!


Paul McCartney fireworks during LIVE AND LET DIE! *splosions!*

Day 2:

The Liars — We arrived early on Day 2 to see the band that everyone forgot to see open up for Radiohead last year. And Thom Yorke has done nothing but gush about these guys. The verdict? They are an odd bunch. Odd sounding. Odd feeling. Genuinely rocking in places. Clearly for the arty set. Best song goes “WHY’D YOU SHOOT THE MAN WITH THE GUN? — CAUSE WE WANTED TO!” This is the kind of strange stuff that kind of sinks into your subconsciousness.

We lay around on the grass while one of our contingent went to have high school era flashbacks at Superchunk. Wait, Supergrass? They’re good right, brit-rockers? No no. SuperCHUNK. Confusing. Sounds like “take a nap in the sun” time.


Calexico – a crowd quickly forms for this band, and with good reason – they sound AMAZING live with those sad Latin-tinged trumpets blaring out into the desert sunset. For some reason, I notice all the female fans at Calexico are classier than at the other shows. No tit slips at Calexico! We should stay longer but…


TV on the Radio — sounding much better than they did at the Wiltern a few months ago, where they came off a little rushed and a little muddled in places. Here at Coachella, they seemed more relaxed in an outdoor setting in front of an enthusiastic crowd that could sing along with favorites like ‘Staring at the Sun’ and ‘Wolf Like Me’. Their sound totally can scale UP. These fuckers could play the Staples Center for sure, but they reserve that venue for the likes of NKOTB and Beyonce. Hmph.

Another rather abrupt tonal change – we head from TVotR to Fleet Foxes who are playing at the prettiest time of day, switching from dusk to nightfall. Again, like Leonard Cohen, they don’t seem loud enough, but that allows them a cleaner, crisper sound that is necessary for their gorgeous harmonies and pastoral sound. As soon as Thievery Corporation begins, they lose the battle of the bands. Thievery Corp was simply much louder. Sorry, my shaggy country friends! Fleet Foxes are more deserving of a nice sit-down venue like the Greek or the Orpheum.

We break for dinner and brews between Thievery Corp and M.I.A. – who looks fabulous for a lady who just landed a baby two months ago! She takes to the stage behind a bank of microphones, as though she were a head of state talking to the media, flanked by dancers outlined in strips of neon – especially impressive when the lights turn off. Her DJ is incredibly annoying though – he kept playing the same rising bullhorn sound during her set between songs. Later I heard an ocean of complaints about his performance that drove some fans away. If you had the tolerance level, you were rewarded with many more tunes than she made it through at her previous Coachella appearance (only 6 songs!) and her high-energy political dance screeds are much more suited to the big stage.

After M.I.A. we loll around listlessly waiting for the Killers – not my favorite band in ANY regard. They have a slick stage show, their equipment and guitar stands covered by facades, a marquee K in the middle of the stage as though it had fallen from the sky, and Brandon Flowers in his feathery jacket. They start out with the song that makes me want to claw at my eyes “Are We Human, or Are We Dancer” and I notice that most of their fans are college-age girls in jersey knit dresses and big sunglasses, whose frat boy paramours also bop along to the music happily. I feel queasy. Eric suggests we try a palate cleanser…

So we head to MASTODON. I had no idea to what to expect, having read recently that the lead singer was extremely intoxicated during the entirety of his Rolling Stone interview – that seems like a good sign! It’s heavy metal but also quite proggy. I thought they sounded like Black Sabbath in places, E thought more Motorhead. Still, I feel deeply privileged to have seen a band who wrote the opening song to the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie, although by this time of night, the crowd seemed burnt out and exhausted. What matters is I had all traces of the Killers wiped from my psyche…until we get home and see the TV commercial for the film The Soloist and they use that ridiculous Killers song Human/Dancer in the background. THX, TV.

Day 3:
We are late for Vivian Girls, No Age, and Lykke Li. Whoops. We manage to catch some of -

Antony & the Johnsons — This act definitely ought to be seen in a different environment. Something about the relentless sun did not go along with Anthony’s torch songs and love dirges. He was low key and almost shy with the crowd. He had a great moment though when a long stretch of feedback would not end, but he did not lose his place in his song nor let it bother him in the least. I want to see Anthony and the Johnsons at a venue like the Hotel Cafe. Yeah, that small, that intimate. I think his music deserves it.

We wait around a little too long for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to begin. They unfortunately start their set with a slower song off their newest effort, It’s Blitz – we lose interest immediately. Why not start off with a BANG, guys? How about that song “Bang” from your early “we only have guitars and drums” days? Oh well. Time for X!


Do you know how GOOD this band sounds still? They ran through their set with such aplomb while the audience lept and pumped fists and hollered along to “Los Angeles”, “Johnny Hit and Run Pauline”, “Soul Kitchen”. Absolutely amazing. Rob remarks as we walk away from the X show: “Exene could EAT Karen O – why are people so into her?”


After that show, we are clearly on a Coachella high. Why not top it off with seeing Chuck D and Flavor Flav and a stage flanked with menacing soldiers!? Rob makes a political point – 20 years ago white folks didn’t – or couldn’t – go to a Public Enemy show. Today, I had to avoid being punched in the face by a frat boy named Doug dancing a LITTLE too aggressively. (Flavor comes out with his little son, Karma, in his arms. We are forced to chant “Go Karma! Go Karma! Go Karma!” to him, possibly scarring him for life, either turning him into someone who has no identity of his own, or someone who thinks he’s king of the universe.)

This. This is the reason you buy a 3 day pass. My. Bloody. Valentine. You don’t buy it for the Cure. You don’t buy it for Karen O. You do it to come hear the loudest, most experimental band man has ever seen. So loud it shakes you internal organs, gives your eye twitches, shakes loose your very thoughts until you are actually mindless, unable to think about anything else – helpless in the face of an ever-building-wall-of-sound. Phil Spector started it, My Bloody Valentine ended it.


I had been told by a music historian/writer to go see this band. They scared me. I ended Coachella 2009 feeling weird and alienated thanks to Throbbing Gristle. That’s kind of cool though? You shouldn’t just go to Coachella to see stuff you love. You should also go to discover new sounds. New sounds that might give you bad dreams.

See you next year.