Am I listening to the soundtrack of "Love Actually" here?!

(just a fraction of the sometimes upwardly 9 piece band)

If you’re not going to the KEXP BBQ or are strapped for some cash, South Lake Union is having a block party…for FREE; and the only band that I’m familiar with is Grand Hallway. Decent mellow band hailing from good ole Seattle, with strings, slide guitar, piano and all the rest of the normal set up. I have a hard time placing them in any sort of musical category at which to compare or contrast. At any rate, with the lead singers androgynous voice liken to that of Sunny Day Real Estate or Silver Sun Pickups, it’s easy to see how you can sit out on the lawn with some wine, your favorite blankie or warm body and just chill

(singer Tomo Nakayama)

http://www.myspace.com/grandhallway

I saw these guys by pure happenstance at Showbox Sodo while visiting a bartender friend back in October 07. After what seemed like a looooong warm up, making me thinking they were armature and that I was in for a yawning experience; I was pleasantly surprised. They pack a punch.

Just a side note: off of their 07 release Yes is the Answer; “Seward Park”, is fast becoming my favorite song. With a soft beginning building with strong piano and strings, then stalling and building. It’s one of those songs that would fit perfectly into a love movie with one stupid character realizing they fucked up and running head long through crowded traffic filled streets towards the other stupid character who’s heading to the airport to move away to some far off land to do some stupid charity work. Or I dunno, the two stupid characters just part, all sad like, and I laugh. Bitter? Meh. Take this rant for what its worth as a description for their style.

Vampire Weekend, Cap Hill Block Party, 7/25/08

(so innocent, you could take em home to mama)

Now, from what I remember, their sound was fantastic; sounding as good as the recording. But I wasn’t fully sure, due to the fact I was 3 sheets to the thar wind by the time they took to the stage. So thankfully some less inebriated soul caught it on his camera:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Asic_V9eYos
(I know this is not Scorsese shit, but at least you can tell that they sounded good, thus proving my judgment was not skewed by booze and surrounding distractions)

So the first time these wee young pups from Columbia University came through Seattle, I had just learned about them, and subsequently was too slow on the draw to nab a ticket to their sold out show. Blasted!!! But thank you oh so much, to my peeps for rubbing it my face on how much they rocked it. Uh huh and here’s some rusty spikes in Green lake for you to fall on as I trip your ass, ninja style (cause you won’t see me coming-get it?!).

I’ve heard their style likened to Simon and Garfunkel, but I have a hard time fully accepting that comparison. I’m going to date myself a bit and say it reminds me of a few bands from way back when, Madness and The Specials; not that comparing them to Le Simon and Le Garfunhizzle makes that person any less old than I. Now, I realize I just named off two English Ska bands, and no, I’m not saying that Vamp is a spot on ringer for Ska. But, in the grand scheme of things, this is what they remind me of with their poppy beats and rhythms. I mean, the shit just makes you wanna move, much like the way Ska made you want to skank (the dance, not you’re cheap half bastard sister with a peg leg).

Another style, which apparently “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa", and "Oxford Comma", derive from, is Congolese Soukous music:
“Soukous (also known as Lingala or Congo, and previously as African rumba) is a musical genre that originated in the two neighboring countries of Belgian Congo and French Congo during the 1930s and early 1940s, and which has gained popularity throughout Africa. "Soukous" (said to be a derivative of the French word secouer, to shake)was originally the name of a dance popular in the Congas in the late 1960s, and danced to an African version of rumba.”
(I seriously don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t copy and paste from Wikipedia)
I can see the shake description, as those two songs definitely make me want to shimmy. In fact, I was dancing up a storm during their set; I think I burned off a good 1000 calories of booze. zexy

Now the block party as a whole…repeat after me:
I MUST eat food before I drink
I MUST eat food before I drink
I MUST eat food before I drink…

Ok, so you don’t have to repeat after ME, but I think I should at least get this shit tattooed on my forearm as a mantra; cause eating a wheat then with a lemon zest thinking I’m on some super model diet, is no way to survive on my drinking habits. Due to the fact that I ingested a decent amount of alcohol this year on said empty stomach, helped me to maintain my annoyance amongst the masses; and yes, I managed to have a good time without the urge of putting the smack down. (If I remember correctly, last year, I advanced on a trouble maker with heel in hand; until the ex stopped me). I learned that avoiding the beer garden with their $4 Miller High Life drafts (you can get a 6can tall boy pack for that cost), and hitting up the happy hours at the bars instead; will not only save you some serious coin, but keep you from wetting yourself like a 4year old scared by clowns because you don’t want to use a porto shitter. Let’s face facts, no one wants to use, let alone plant their dainty derriere on one of those things. So unfair boys got a point and shoot device, giving them the freedom on peeing on a tree without uncomfortable squatting and praying you don’t piss on your shoes or loose your balance and fall in your fresh puddle-wait, sugar ramble.

(always a pillar of the community and a fine example of lady-hood)

This year’s line up didn’t grab me as much as last year; or I should say I didn’t try to rush around to see everyone like last year. Neumo’s is a cluster on a normal basis, add in the block party and it’s just fucking hell. So I was pretty much stationed at the Cha Cha, the beer garden and the Comet; with full attempts to watch the oh so smart idea of Girl Talk and the madness on the stage, and Les Savy Fav with the ever dynamo front man Tim Harrington-can I possibly say LSD while preggers with this one?

(Girl Talk, all one of him in white head band)

(guy in wife beater "dude are you playing W.O.W?! I'm totally a level 7 Warlock)

(the drunk masses on stage with Girl Talk)

(Tim Harrington asks "would you like to dig for my belly button lint...with your tongue?)

At any rate, I got away without an indecent exposure citation, my dogs were not barking, I harassed a couple of tall boys, didn’t molest anyone (I think), no fights (I’m actually quite docile, like a lemur), spilled some beers (sorry D), laughed at some smelly hipsters, enjoyed some excellent people watching and caught my reason for coming and the main act in it’s entirety without: passing out, puking, or falling down. I think I did pretty okie dokie

now I just need to make some funnel with a tube that meets up to the vag for a make shift penis, so girls can stand up too!

VIVE LA REVOLUTION!

Some wasted fluff...enjoy!

I'm going stir crazy and while I'm working on posts for this blog I happen to look down at my for-days-shapely gams and notice my horrific tan lines from last weekend's camping trip...

(hmmm, not sure how my honky white ass pulled that one off.)

So as I sit, bored and waiting for the whistle to blow; slightly hyper from the piece of chocolate I consumed...I'm going to rock out to my favorite band to drive to whilst in a hurry or aggro, Static X; and think about the good times I had at their shows...drinking, yelling, watching Wayne's hair defy gravity, thinking about the 'what's his name' guitarist that got caught with a 13 year old girl (oopsy), the excellent people watching and wondering why Mr. Static is looking so bulimic...really sweetie; porn girlfriend not feeding you well? You're still ripped and lovely and I'd still gladly sponge you clean after a rousting game of rugby, but doll...will ya just let me cradle you and feed you some Big Mac's and fries-super sized? Mamma's just a little worried, mmmm-kay?

I thought I did an entry on them awhile ago; alas, I probably trashed it. So I'll say something half assed about them now: YAY. FUN. No seriously, rockin. I've always had good times and they're always entertaining; playing a strong mix of new, along with their oldies that got them in the lime light in the first place. They typically sounds pretty decent to boot, but that mostly depends on the venue. The best venue thus far has been House of Blues in Anaheim. The worst, Showbox Sodo in Seattle.

So seeing how I try to see them whenever they're within a 30mile radius, I might try again to elaborate a bit more on the magical fairytale ride of good Glenda vs evil Monkey, that is their show.

Das Llamas @ The Comet 6/25

While roaming the crowded “Pride” filled streets of Cap Hill on Friday the 25th, I heard a familiar bass line drifting out from the Comet.

“What is this song-I KNOW this song-What the FUCK is it?!”

Thank goodness the streets were closed off for the upcoming parade or I would surely have been creamed by a car like a Hollywood starlet hopped up on coke. I was standing outside the Comet trying hard to figure out the song, as the lyrics were barely audible through the noise. I probably would’ve figured it out sooner had I not ingested so many vodka bevies…but alas…

EUREKA!!!
“I am a patient boy...I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait My time is water down a drain”

HOLY FUCK, IS FUGAZI PLAYING IN SEATTLE AT THE COMET?! FUGAZI BITCHES!! I beg my drinking companions to let me play on the Hill a little longer, they only indulge my request because A.) there’s a hot dog cart right outside and B.) one of them was 86’d seven years ago and she was curious if she could get in.

I start peering through the door, but the crowd keeps me from viewing the band. So I flash my best “I’ll eat you alive” smile and puff up the love muffins towards the door man and gain admittance. Come on, with these Bea Arthur good looks, who could say no? Although, it probably helped that it was 12:30am.

Once inside, I discovered to my dismay that is was not Fugazi, but Das Llamas (not that they're bad, but I had a burning in my loins for the Fug). So I stayed to check out the band and enjoy the remainder of their set. The band was shoved into a corner on the upper level of the bar, so space was cramped for them to get too crazy. Nevertheless, they put on a pretty energetic show, jumping around, shaking their moppy hair mingled with sweat and got the remainding crowd moving. In all, I'll probably make a point to see them again, since the few songs I stayed for actually peaked my interest for a little more exposure. I might even make an effort to write a better, non booze infused entry of fluff about them.

The Comet is like the independent coffee houses/bars and old punk venues of my spent youth. The types of places where the sound is awful, you’re exchanging unwanted fluids of fellow patrons cause it’s so crowded and you could literally smell the band's Jack Daniels ingested breath cause they’re that fucking close to you. On the plus side, it gives you great people watching of the crusties, dusties and smelly hipsters. "Here pretty pretty hipster...let momma feed you a big mac to fill out your 13 year old sister's jeans".

While I'm at it...why don't I go ahead and hug a tree

(Panoramic...I'm somewhere down there in the middle)

My last Sunday was spent volunteering for Surfrider’s Snowrider Project, Alpental Clean Up event. It was a bit later in the year this time around; due to the epic amount of snow we got this season and the fact that there is still a fair amount up there now…

Armed with my trusty side kick, Anna and several gloves, we attacked the upper lots and the areas opposite of the road. In 3 hours time we managed to fill 7 industrial sized garbage bags full of crap. Even with those numbers though, I’d have to say, it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. I figured lot 4 alone would’ve been hell; seeing as how I’ve had my fair share of beers and picnics there.

(the first of MANY to follow)

After said 3 hours, we broke for lunch, which the foundation was nice enough to supply us: burgers, potato salad and baked beans…mmmmmm the magical fruit that just loves to make me toot. While we sat around gabbing, the subject of what was found started to arise. I myself found the following: the standard beer discardings, cigar butts, approx 50 tea lights, oyster shells, a carpet kit from a vehicle, some human poo, 5 tennis balls, about 7 socks and some man panties-or ‘manties’ (which I tried investigate the reason for tossing and take a picture of possible monster skid marks-Anna said stop-Boo Anna-BOO). Other items found that day: 2 bras, an unopened bottle of champagne, a snowboard boot, boxing glove, and a king’s ransom in Girl’s Gone Wild Mardi Gra beads. In all, it is a great cause worthy event that Surfrider puts on, it’s a shame more don’t participate with as ‘Green’ as this state is. You could literally be up there ALL day cleaning shit up.

I know I don’t look like your typical ‘love Mother Earth, man!’ type of person, but I was birthed by pseudo hippie/rock parents of the 70’s, that regularly took us camping during the summers. Digging holes to do your business, hanging your food from trees and ‘being one with nature’, were par for the course. Of course I leave out the part where we brought along ATV’s; cause we’re not completely uncivilized patchouli wearing freaks. Nevertheless, I boarded a lot this season, put in my time on the slopes and I do feel that trash gets overlooked. It felt good to do something positive (as I regularly comment evil acts of debauchery).

On this random act of earth kindness, I didn’t bring my iPod. Instead, I listened to the music of nature; with the surrounding birds, waterfalls and creeks; awwwww. I think I even saw Bigfoot, waving and shedding a tear as I pick up his backyard; or it could’ve been a REALLY hairy nudist hiker.

Old 97's, Triple Door June 14th

This entry will be much like my feelings on the show I saw…unimpressive

Ok, so maybe that’s a bit harsh. They’re not bad; they’re just not my cup of tea; which frankly surprises me, seeing as how I grew up in a house of rock and or roll(me Da); and the occasional classic country injection(me Ma), not that bullshit country they make today. It was a free show at the Triple Door; I was curious and had a free Saturday, so I went to peep them. They sounded good, but I’m pretty much of the opinion that it would be royally fucking hard to sound bad at that venue. I was sitting there thinking to myself, “Wow, I can fully expect to see the ‘Footloose’ kids rocking out in their Midwest 80’s prom attire to this band”. Harsh again? Perhaps; but with Rhett Miller’s Bruce Springsteen booty shaking moves mixed with a southern rock-country influence, it left me thinking that my dad would LOVE their sound. He’s got a great voice, as does Murry Hammond, and the rest of the band were talented as well. So I must give them props, because they seem to be doing well for themselves after 14+ years of music making history.

On a side note of the fellow attendees…I expected to see more greasers or rockabilly folk there, but alas not so much. Maybe this is what those types look like as they get older, have kids and mature into career and life. Hell, I don’t even have my Betty Page bangs anymore and I love me some rocka-silly music.

But any time I’m in Texas, driving my 72’ Chevy pick’em up truck with my bestest dog buddy Bandit, mashing my boot on the accelerator, and I get the sudden urge to cut loose in a barn with wicked dance moves and gymnastics…I’ll rock out to Old 97’s

Amateur burlesque? Why not-there's nothing else on

(trust me, it didn't look like this)

I love me some burlesque…

The roommate and I traveled to a local bar for an open tease night of amateur burlesque. I was excited, briefly, but that died…also, briefly. Being that this was on a weeknight and as everyone knows, I’m an old lady who enjoys her sleep; thus said, I’m usually pretty sleepy by 10pm. Why am I telling you this? Um…uh, because some of these girls were so fucking boring they were driving me to pass out in a puddle of drool before 10pm and my drinks, strong as they may be, were NOT saving the day.

We needed more action, more heat, more shimmy, more…more fucking pasted titties damn it. Stop making me yawn with your stiff movements and poor tease skills ladies!! Although, much props must go out, lets face it, you didn’t see my tattooed ass up on that stage…at least not yet

All was looking bleak, until a man; yes a man and a large one at that did tease to Minnie the Moocher, dressed in a suit. In the end, he had balls, but it would’ve been better if he wore pasties, because frankly, he had some good sized melons. So it’s now approaching 11pm and we’re walking towards the door, when we see a rather healthy gal take the stage to Bjork’s “it’s so quiet”. We had pretty much lost all hope of any good entertainment by this point, until this robust young lady started shimming her big ass with gusto. Yes, as I mentioned, large or more politically correct: “Plus Sized”; wrapped in what I can assume, about 3-4 solid yards of fringe…She stopped us in our tracks; she had more heart, energy and character than rest of the acts we’d seen thus far. And yes, she teased and showed us her butterfly pasties and my lord, they were FUCKING HUGE! The pasties, as well as her jugs.

The only other thing worth mentioning was a girl who hiked up her skirt and appeared to open a beer bottle with her crotch. I bet she gets all the fellas with that move…You can bet I’ll be practicing that trick at home.