From Evil To Genius - Times Like These

So maybe I'm feeling a little nasty for discussing the Evil Beaver in my last post (though it's more of a "think piece", right, whatever that means) and perhaps it's time to start cleansing the old soul with this clip of Glen Campbell performing The Foo Fighters' "Times Like These." We toured with The FF's in 2003 and this song was always the highlight for me.

I really enjoy the classic country boys doing modern hits. Like The Oak Ridge Boys turning "Seven Nation Army" into a tasty vocal treat or Johnny Cash crooning "I hurt myself today..." I hear nothing but the sweetness when these melodies come around.

Okay, that's all for today. I swears.

But You Know Evil Is An Exact Science

When Chuck Klosterman's article on archenemies vs nemeses first came out, a friend and I tried to figure out where his at the time rival landed on this scale. Thinking back, I think nemesis is the correct answer.

Yesterday, I tweeted about how my nemesis was finally out of my life, but then I got to thinking... maybe she was really my archenemy. After re-reading Klosterman's theory, I've concluded yes, definitely archenemy.

I'm not sure how it came to be that this person, Evil as we nicknamed her, ended up claiming the top prize in the wasting my time with anger sweepstakes. I remember when I realized that she was a superficial self-involved wench (well, I sort of do... it was at the David Grey show... or The Afghan Whigs... either way it was at The Palace in LA). I remember when she called me up to emphatically state that she and a male friend of mine were "TOGETHER"... like... get it... stay away... She went on to work with other pals and proceeded to take credit for their ideas on a regular basis.

I'll confess that jealousy is involved, as is the case with any arch enemy (or nemesis). She could be charming and she was certainly never short on suitors or lingerie masquerading as clothing.

I thought I'd left her behind for the most part when I left The Viper Room but no, there she was at all the My Morning Jacket shows. She finally ended up working for a company indirectly related to the band so once again she was all up in my psyche... lurking away. However, now I hear she's gone. I was relieved to hear this, I admit, and with that relief comes a sense of wishing her well in the world. A hope that she's grown up a bit as I hope I have.

So, that is the tale of me and my archenemy. There are other thorns in my side, to be sure... but none, for some reason, claimed such a spot in my heart as the scantily clad Evil Beaver.

In honor of the archenemy vs nemesis debate, I'm including Shriekback's video for their song "Nemesis." An old fave, to be sure... we are no monsters... we're moral people.

The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over The Lazy Dog

I'm in the middle of conjuring up a post about arch enemies, So You Think You Can Dance and other random bits and pieces when I happened upon this (via my husband's boyfriend who cooked us a really excellent dinner last night so thanks for that, Shane).

I totally lol'ed, yes it's true.

Song For A Day - 66

Yesterday I wrote about my 1988 with The Church's Starfish. Today it's my 1999 with The Afghan Whigs'1965. We're making some heavy withdrawals at the nostalgia bank this week, I tell you.

And ohhh, the magical powers of Greg Dulli, a man whose magnetic stage presence defies the fact that he's actually a bit scary up close and in person. Before I ever saw the band the only thing I knew about them was the zine Fat Greg Dulli so I never dreamed this guy would be someone women threw their underthings at. Then my pal George took me to a show at The Palace in LA and whilst I remained fully clothed, I couldn't deny the appeal.

I'm sure many a girl's lusty fantasies revolved around the smoky, luscious, makes me feel joyful gathering of songs that is 1965. For die hard Afghan Whigs fans, as I understand it, this is the record where they started to share the suck but I find no fault. It was my first, it was my only.

"66" is the track that sent my soul into happy shivers (though I listen to "The Slide Song" more often these days). I hope you enjoy this here video of The Twilight Singers (Dulli's band with Mark Lanegan) performing it with Whigs' bassist John Curley. He even throws in a pocketful of trojans...

There's an Afghan Whigs tribute album out now. You can download My Jerusalem's festive version for free here.

Rediscovering Old Loves - Reptile

Okay, I admit my original intent was to do a post on "Hotel Womb" but the only video available wasn't worth spreading around the internets.

As a teenager in good old Plano, Texas and a young adult in good old Austin, I couldn't get enough of the fair prince Marty Willson-Piper and his compatriot, the sultry voiced Steven Kilbey.

The Church were my church and though I freely admit that I worshipped at the altar of Robert Smith, they ran a close second... well they may have competed with Echo & the Bunnymen for second, but let's face it my earnest teen dream heart was large enough to hold them all near and dear.

"Reptile" is an equally grand song from 1988's Starfish, an album I listened to on a virtual loop that first fall I lived in Austin. The ghosts of a thousand fantasies probably still haunt my old duplex on Speedway.

The lads are in their 50s now and still going strong with a near original lineup (only drummer Richard Ploog's not around anymore). I've been to every SXSW since 1989 EXCEPT the one they played. It's just as well... I probably would have missed them, anyway.

NYC Prep - It's Front Row Or Nothing

In case you missed it, because I know you're all watching this show it's really just the best thing ever and I don't know how the Gods of TV will ever surpass this gloriousness, last week teen dream Sebastian and future elephant trainer Taylor broke up and can't even be friends even though they were never really going out and it's all made up anyway.

This week finds Jessie grasping once again for fashion greatness with her new job at Charlotte Ronson. She calls her fellow applicants "pathetic" since they were seven years older than her and had the same amount of experience. I think she got the job because it would expose Charlotte Ronson to a bunch of rich New York teens... and lesser types who can buy her crappy diffusion line at JC Penney. (I had a gander the other day when I was at Mall St. Matthews and it's just as bad as it looked online. There's one wearable piece. The rest looks and feels le cheap. It is on sale these days, though. Oh, funniest part, a sales clerk was showing around a new employee and said, "This is Charlotte Robson. We've had this line for a few months.")

Anyway... for some reason unknown to anyone, PC (or PCP as I like to call Peter Carey Peterson) invites Taylor and a + 1 (she brings her old yet new again flame Cole, the only normal person on this show) to the Jill Stuart show during Fashion Week. PC and Taylor are pretending to find each other fascinating. Geez, what crazy scenario will these producers think of next?!

It's semi-hilarious, mostly cringeworthy, when PC tries to school Taylor on proper celebrity sighting etiquette. They arrive in a flurry of paparazzi to front row seats because, as PC sooo correctly says, "It's front row or nothing." Taylor bags on PC and his pretentious friend Kat for wearing their sunglasses indoors and it's true, they look like jerks even though I think she's wearing those Oliver Peoples sunglasses I totally love but won't buy because they look like crap on me.

Cue Taylor and Cole giving some snappy sartorial commentary along the lines of "I like purple" and "Purple is my school color." Those peasants from the Upper West Side sure are adorable!!

Oh look, here comes Sebastian!! I think he has a speech impediment or something... or he's drunk... because he's slurring his words when he tells us how he's going to try and have a go at Kelli now that Taylor rejected him. I kind of like Kelli as she announces she's not going to be Sebastian's backup. You go girl! People don't say that anymore, do they?

PC is still yammering on about being in the front row as we drift along to the Erin Fetherston show at Bryant Park. (Her diffusion line at Target was way better. I bought the bunny thermals because I luv bunnies.) Seb and Kelli only have fifth row. My God, they so don't rate! Anyway, who wants the dramz that would be a Kelli and PC meet up because we all know they totes hate each other.

My brain is oozing out of my head right now. Seriously. I always hear about how you have to suffer for your art. Now I understand, dear readers!!

PC tries to apologize to Kelli after the show and it's just words words bitching bitching, I sure don't think anyone's really making up here and does it matter because when this show is over these people will care even less about each other than we do.

OMG! Paris Hilton cameo!! We all know by now that she dropped out of the same prep school that PC and Jessie recently graduated from. It's called Dwight and apparently they'll let anyone in.

PC is not in the front row at Pamella Roland and he throws a really unappealing hissy fit, but everything he does is unappealing so this is okay. He is keeping in character. I bet the show runners are super proud of PC. He is their bright shining star as he calls Kat (or at least I think it's Kat, I can't tell without the sunglasses) the c-word and gives Jessie the finger. That's breeding there, boys and girls. That is the grandson of a billionaire.

We're 26 minutes in before we get our first glimpse of Camille. Who cares.

Now Jessie's working for Carmen Marc Valvo?!! How can this be? I have to admit I really like CMV even though he designs with fur and that makes me want to barf.

Are you still here? If so, thanks, because I barely am.

PC brings an entourage to the CMV after party. Jessie gets mad and tries to act like she's angry because it's tacky to bring uninvited guests to a soiree and she's worried about PC hanging out with dudes in their 20s when really she's worried that PC is actually gay and therefore not in love with her as she is in love with him. It's Shakespearean, this tragedy, and they whack us over the head with the PC On Fire theme every week to the point where now I'm actually beginning to think he's hetero.

I have started way too many sentences in this re-cap/liveblog/disaster with the letters PC.

I think they just showed Camille at some spa. Who cares.

Sebastian continues to be drunk or have marbles in his mouth or something. He's on a date with some girl who has perfect eyebrows. More words and most are unintelligible. They even give you subtitles but it still doesn't make any sense.

Taylor wanted to hug Paris Hilton when she saw her. Taylor the future philosopher just fell quite a bit in my estimation but she's 15 so whatevs. Actually, that makes it worse.

More Jessie ragging on PC with the "I love you please pay attention to me" subtext still going strong.

And mercifully it's over. Just like this post.

Bad News Monday

Bob Geldof doesn't like Mondays. Who does...

Here's a few bits and pieces that came across my desk today.

Jim Bunning not running for re-election. Possibly the Democrats only hope in winning that seat is now gone. On the flip side, the good news... no more Jim Bunning.

The NFL Commissioner has conditionally reinstated Michael Vick. He could be playing in the regular season as early as October. On the flip side, the good news... I bet there are a lot of dog lovers in the NFL.

And finally, Merce Cunningham passed away. RIP to a true dance visionary. I wonder if they'll acknowledge this on So You Think You Can Dance this week. On the flip side, the good news... I bet they're learning new movement in heaven (even if I don't believe in heaven).

I've included this Comic-Con trailer for True Blood because why the heck not. That show is juicy, no pun intended.

My goal this week... to return to regularly scheduled programming and by that I mean blog more than once in a blue moon, you knew just what I was there for.

NYC Prep Doesn't Exactly Prep You For Reality TV

Okay, I haven't been feeling well lately (always some excuse, right?) so what did I do this weekend? Caught up on the first three episodes of Bravo's new "reality" offering NYC Prep. It's no secret that I love me some Gossip Girl so even though I didn't want to watch this somewhat odious yet undeniably grossly fun exploration into the lives of rich teens in New York, I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

The show has a sunny cast of characters, a veritable who's who in the New York teen social scene...not really.

There's dreamy Sebastian, the 16 year old lothario of East Hampton who has a wingman with whom he sends signals to by flipping his ridiculous 70s hair. He speaks French poorly and hooks up with lots of girls (between two and 16 a month!) even though he chews gum with his mouth open.

Kelli, also 16, lives in Manhattan with her 18 year old brother and no parental supervision. Oh wait, her mother and father come in from the Hamptons one night a week, which proves they really care. She wants to be a singer. She lurvs Sebastian, but he only has eyes for...

Taylor, the 15 year old pride of the Upper West Side. And she goes to... stage whisper... public school. Of course, they only mention briefly that she goes to a public school that's nicer than many privates and is one of the best in the city. Stuyvesant is a magnet that you have to test into so even though she plays the role of the dumb brunette (hrm), she actually has a brain in there despite the fact that every other sentence she utters includes the word "social status." In fact, she's a bit wily as she seems to be playing everyone including...

Camille, 17, the mini-Blair Waldorf -- down to the hairband -- who attends Nightingale-Bamford and desperately desperately wants to go to Harvard (though she's written since this proclamation that what she really meant was "the idea of Harvard").

It's all over the internets that none of these kids actually go to top tier prep schools because surely no Brearley or Spence girls would be caught dead flaunting their wealth and looking like bitches on a gauche TV show. However, we're supposed to believe with all our little hearts that these cardboard cutouts are a fine representation of what real upper echelon city kids are like. But wait... isn't that what Gossip Girl is for?

Lest you think we're stuck in bourgeoisie hell, we do have a billionaire's grandson in the form of... PC (pictured), 18, the Dwight graduate and possibly gay offspring of Blackstone Senior Chairman Peter Peterson (seriously). In fact, PC is also named Peter Peterson. Peter Carey Peterson. I think he should be called PCP, don't you? All of PC's scenes seem to be propelling us to the foregone conclusion that he likes boys and not his best friend...

Jessie. Oh Jessie. Also a recent Dwight graduate, Jessie is the future Alexis Carrington Colby of the group (although future Real Housewife of NYC is more like it). She's ambitious, snooty and mean. I so want to hate her, but these shortcomings are so obviously a desperate attempt to mask her other shortcomings... and that is putting it politely. Jessie loves PC but alas, I think those feelings need to sink with the sun never to see the light of day again because it's just not gonna happen.

Having said this, they will probably end up unhappily married spending days where he throws water bottles at her (or expensive vodka once he's of age, haha, like these kids care about the drinking age!), and she slaps him across the face. Both of these situations have occurred on the show. PC also told a girl he was going to break his beer bottle on her head if she didn't leave him alone when they were in Mexico. Such a charmer!! He's no Chuck Bass, that's for sure.

It's painful at times how obviously set up the scenes are and seeing the kids play dress up at fancy dinner parties and clubs in their mini-adult frocks and dinner jackets is pretty cringeworthy for the most part. They often sneak glances at the cameras and seem to stumble on lines.

However, I don't just watch this show for the schadenfreude... New Yorker Big Word Alert!... I watch it to hear great lines like this one in re Jessie's charity work that Camille is trying to glom onto so she can go to Harvard: "In the Operation Smile world, Jessie is the queen bee."

Omigod. Like, that is SO TRUE!!

Oh wait, there was also the time where Sebastian told Kelli, "That's what like the movies are for. The Jewish people." Why are movies for the Jewish people, you ask? Because they need something to do on Christmas, of course!!!!

Cameo of tonight's ep: Taylor Momsen... looking confused... as to why someone was filming her.

Thank God the season finale is next week.

(photo at Bravotv.com)

Songs I Somehow Never Heard - Lloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken

I can't believe I've let so many days pass since my last post. The excuse of moving/unpacking/shutting the door in the face of Jehovah's Witnesses (or Mormons, whatever) wearing "Jesus Christ" nametags is wearing thin.

So... I'm lying in bed at 10.23 am on this fine Tuesday watching (this is so embarrassing) Over Her Dead Body. My excuse this time is that I'm not feeling well and obviously I'm not in my right mind willingly watching something with both Lake Bell AND Eva Longoria Parker (although I do watch Desperate Housewives and have since Day 1, and oh let's face it underneath my dark cloud I am unbearably girly).

Err... so... I'm lying in bed at 10.23 am on this fine Tuesday watching the end credits of Over Her Dead Body (did you know Paul Rudd is in that movie? He's adorable!) and this Oh My Goodness I'm in a Time Machine kind of song comes on so I look it up and it's not really from the early 90s but a 2006 offering from Glaswegians Camera Obscura, who have been around since 1996, but apparently I live in a musical cave. That was a long sentence that I'm not entirely sure was grammatically correct.

"Lloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" is a response to the Lloyd Cole and the Commotions song "Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken." Do you remember that Lloyd Cole video where he had the rose tattoo on his palm? I still think about that every now and then.

"Llloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" reminds me of The Sundays, of getting ready to go out and meet cute boys, of those rare moments of appreciating youth while still being young.

And with a sigh I change the channel...