Skinny Puppy 2009: Still got it

A few months ago, I was alerted to the fact that Skinny Puppy was on tour, and said tour was ending in L.A. on Dec. 10. Hm.

It's been years since I've seen Skinny Puppy. Like, a LOT of years. But I've always had love for that band. From the first time I ever heard their music (song: "Smothered Hope," played by DJ Charles English at Detroit club Todd's) through an unforgettable show at St. Andrews Hall and the endless nights in Ann Arbor with Hank and John, drinking Jim Beam and performing "The Red X" ritual (don't ask)— well, let's just say that Skinny Puppy and I go way back.

First, I was pleasantly surprised by a pair of tickets from a very dear old friend Jason. Then, there was this online contest to win tickets that I forgot about entering that turned up even more tickets. The universe really wanted me to see Skinny Puppy.

It was a dark and stormy night. Ha. I mean, it was, but that's besides the point.

I rolled downtown to the Club Nokia for the show. When I went inside, wow. There were a LOT of people out to see Skinny Puppy in 2009. So far, so good.

I was just kind of hanging out in the back Twittering when I saw her. I was just this tiny blur of porcelain skin and dark hair, but the profile was unmistakable. Sasha Grey had just scampered past me and towards the elevators.

Instinctively, I followed her into the elevator. It was just her, me...and some bitchy elevator attendant.


"Um, you need a VIP bracelet for this level." The attendant cast me a steely glare. I glanced over at Sasha as I got out of the elevator. Fail.

I ran into my friend Timothy Norris, who is also an ace photographer. He too had seen Sasha. He mentioned her sneakers, which were rather outstanding. Sparkly red high-tops with silver studs around the top. Fresh to death.

And then, there was the show. Skinny Puppy has not lost an inch over the years. Their stage show is as surreal and awesome as ever (this time around they had kind of a Mummenschanz vibe going on). Nivek Ogre is still a compelling frontman, and they sounded ferocious.

Oh, and Sasha Grey was standing about 5 feet away from me for the entire show. Win.

Where I'm from, Pt. 2

Where I'm from, Pt. 1

It happened in Detroit: Jive Turkey 6

My trip home to Detroit was amazing.

Soooo many outrageous stories, all of them true.

Among my favorites: Jive Turkey 6

The “6” indicating the 6th year in a row this particular Detroit underground throwdown has been happening.

The line-up was already impressive, as evidenced by the flyer. The word was that Kenny Dixon Jr. and Theo Parrish were both going to be rocking unannounced sets. Hell yes. My old buddy Tim Baker was gonna be in the house, it was sure be a night of ‘90s-tastic fun.

I’d never been to the Bohemian House before. Deep in the heart of Detroit’s southwest side, the Ambassador Bridge loomed ominously behind me as I rolled a far too shiny rental car down a desolate side street towards the spot.

There were a couple of dudes in parkas hanging around a bunch of cars parked on a barren lot. One of them approached me and asked for $3. OK, word.

Except that now left me with only $7 in cash. The party cost $10. Hm. I rolled to the door and before I could explain my dilemma, dude at the dude took my $7 and waved me in. Cool.

OK, this was a classic dirty Detroit rave. The location looked like any number of abandoned houses in the city. Random planks and shit were lying around everywhere. The party was broken into two rooms. In the big main room, a DJ I didn’t know was dropping hard house beats. The room was fairly crowded. Behind the decks I spied Boo Williams, Glenn Underground, and a few more old-school heads.

I wandered into the second room, where my bud Tim Baker was spinning serious hardcore techno. He was beating it, as they like to say.

There were a few druggy party kids running around, but for a dirty Detroit rave, the crowd was surprisingly of age. Lots of ‘90s ravers grown up, with a healthy percentage of older black folks just chilling and smoking weed. The bar was doing a healthy business.

There was this insane young blond in front of the DJ tables. I swear she was wearing cut-off panties. With only a bra up top, she was working the floor like she was on a riser at Rain in Vegas. I mean this girl was grinding like she was getting paid big bucks. Even the too-cool-for-school dudes behind the tables were having a hard time not totally ogling her.

At one point this wasted brunette tried to mix it up with the blond, but it was short, painful defeat. She had one move, which was turning around and lifting her skirt up over ass, revealing a thong and a lotta ass. But that got old quick, and soon enough she was outta there.

Some dude starts rapping on the mike about the upcoming DJs, when I noticed a guy in what looked like a cop vest rush past me. By the time I looked up, a stream of police in what appeared to be stripped-down riot gear was streaming in through the main entrance. I glanced at the guy next to me, and we both made a beeline for the exit, only to be met by one seriously angry looking cop.

(The one picture I took before the cops killed the party)

“Everybody get down on the fucking floor right fucking now!”

The music had stopped and this booming cry was suddenly the only sound in the room. Overhead lights started coming on. More cops rushed into the room. People are kind of looking at each other like, “WTF?” My heart started beating really fast.

“I SAID GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR NOW!”

All 200 or so of us slowly squatted down on the filthy floor. Looking to my right, I saw an open pack of cigarettes with a plastic baggie hanging out of it, filled with white powder. Nearby, there were two more similar baggies. A couple more to my right. Damn, Detroit—party much? I realize that I'm actually shaking. The one other time I got caught up in one of these raids, I'd nonchalantly walked out the front door. The cops didn't even give me a second look that night more than ten years ago. This night was not like that at all.

A kid kind of stood up in the middle of the room, only to be thrown violently back down by the yelling cop.

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME MOTHER FUCKER?!” He growled.

Oh, shit. This was really happening.

The cops pile everyone into the main room and start demanding ID.

“IF YOU ARE UNDER 21, YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL. EVERYONE UNDER 21, RAISE YOUR HAND NOW!”

A smattering of hands timidly rose. The cops looked around the room, confused. Most of the faces were older than they were.

“IF ANY OF YOU ARE LYING, I SWEAR TO GOD! UNDER 21, STAND UP NOW!”

A couple dozen kids staggered to their feet, while the rest of us sat squatting on the floor of this dilapidated house that’s supposedly a historical landmark of the city. How fitting.

The cops looked crestfallen. One just yelled “FUCK!” at the top of his lungs.

The few, unfortunate busted kids were shuffled into the smaller room for processing. The rest of us got lined up, made to show ID, and sent off into the night.

Just another Saturday night in Detroit…

(The Telway Hamburgers spot on Michigan Ave not far from the party)

Artist profile: TURF ONE

“I sometimes speak English in a very French way,” warns artist Turf One with a good-natured laugh before discussing the work that makes up his latest show, “Shining Darkness,” which is on exhibit at the Thinkspace gallery in Los Angeles through the end of November.

But much like his bold, uncompromising paintings, the former graffiti artist’s thoughts are direct and right to the point. Utilizing a wide range of found objects to serve as his canvas, Turf One’s latest works reflect his process of letting the subconscious mind guide his art.


“The title ‘Shining Darkness’ actually came in the middle of working on it,” he explains from his current home base of Montreal, Canada. “I already had a few pieces done for the show which were very much playing on the notion of the juxtaposition and correlation of darkness and light. This is an underlying theme in my work in general, but I explored a more serious aspect of it for this show with pieces like “MEAT” or “FORTUNE TELLING MONKEY AUTOMATON.”

Animals play a large part in the exhibit, with monkeys, pigeons and a disembodied pig’s head just a few of the creatures represented in the paintings.

“I don’t really know where they come from. They each symbolize different things,” the artist muses about their presence here. “I think the monkey for example is probably a symbol of the unconscious. The pigeons and sparrows are the messengers between different levels of reality. Most of the animals I paint are often vermin placed in a sacred context. Holy pigeons, rats and mice, cockroaches are amongst my favorite subjects. Living in a big city, they are also the species that share my environment.”

“Montreal is definitely a great city,” he continues in regards to his present big city of choice. He relocated after vacationing there in 2000 and falling in love with the Quebec province. “The combination of cultures is very rich and inspiring and makes it unique. It’s not too big, so Montreal is still a very human city. People in general tend to be very chill and open.”

Music fuels Turf One’s painting sessions, citing a panoramic soundtrack that includes everything from legendary hip-hop producer Jay Dilla to revered jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt.

“I just like good music,” the artist shrugs. “I never paint without music. It fuels me. It’s all about good music and coffee.”

While Turf One has nothing specific planned for the time being, he’s been dabbling in taking his vision to the screen, co-directed the feature documentary “Dead Space” with his partner Lela Quesney a couple years ago. The pair has also been working on a TV show pilot based on his work.

“I basically see myself as someone who has a vision and a need to create,” Turf One says finally. “I don’t necessarily define myself solely by the mediums that I use to give life to my creations. Painting is just one of these means I found to give shape to my vision. Filmmaking could be another one.”

(Originally published by Hurley)

Artist of the day: Liselotte Watkins

I discovered this amazing artist, Liselotte Watkins, on killer life/style blog We The Future. Those girls down in Lubbock got it going on.

Masonic Temple, downtown Detroit

Another one taken from inside a rental car around 5AM on a Sunday morning*

This is an amazing venue. I saw an incredible Prince concert there once when I was in high school. It was on his birthday, June 7. The year I can't remember, but it was definitely in the '80s. There was also a phenomenal White Stripes show I caught in 2003.

Sayeth Wikipedia:

"The Detroit Masonic Temple is a large-events venue located in downtown Detroit, Michigan, at 500 Temple Street. The 4,404-seat Masonic Temple Theater (managed by Olympia Entertainment) is a venue for concerts, Broadway shows, and other special events in the Detroit Theater District."

But my favorite story about the Masonic is when the Stones played a 'secret' show there in 1978 around the time "Some Girls" came out. I wouldn't see my first Stones show for another three years, damn it.

Spirit of Detroit

Taken from inside a rental car around 4AM on a Sunday morning*

Album review: Rihanna, RATED R (Def Jam)

Rihanna’s official bid for ultimate pop music domination is nothing short of epic. RATED R explodes with a genuine energy, confidence and vibrancy that is becoming increasingly rare in the charts. Shimmering with a black metallic sheen and future-shocked production, the album is a cinematic tale of being destroyed by a man and getting over it...eventually.

Along the way, the album’s protagonist is alternately vengeful, horny, and still kind of sad at the cost. The songs range from slow-burning sex bomb come-ons (“Rude Boy”) and robotic rock self-empowerment anthems (“Rockstar 101”) to dramatic power balladry (“Fire Bomb”) and stark, acoustic confessionals (“Photographs”). Rihanna even invokes the rapid-fire rapping of Peaches during the moody and atmospheric revenge fantasy “G4L.”

Coupled with the high-profile personal drama she’s endured this year, Rihanna has elevated from pop’s #1 contender to something much bigger: the opportunity to become this generation’s Tina Turner.

(Originally published on Shockhound.com)

Talkin' on the phone with Kid Sister*

Back in 2005, Melisa Young was just another ambitious college grad working at Bath & Body Works in the mall by day. By night, however, she was crafting fun, electro-soaked rap jams as Kid Sister with her brother Josh, one half of Chicago DJ duo Flosstradamus.

After two whirlwind years of rocking parties and inspiring fawning blog-buzz, she was one of the first artists signed to DJ A-Trak’s burgeoning Fool’s Good label. When rap superstar Kanye West heard Kid Sister’s demo via A-Trak (at the time his touring DJ), he was impressed enough to add a verse to her second single “Pro Nails,” complete with a cameo in the song’s glossy video.

The promotional blitz around the rapidly rising single found Kid Sister doing everything from guest-spots on MTV’s Pete Wentz-hosted “F’NMTV” show to receiving a nomination for Best Female Hip-Hop Artist at the 2008 BET Awards. There was only one thing missing: an album.

Amid reports of her working furiously between shows with a series of producers, Kid Sister’s full-length debut went through one incarnation and track listing after another — its title was variously reported as Koko B. Ware and Dream Date — but never quite managed to see the light of day. Meanwhile, fans began to wonder if the record would ever come out. Thankfully, Kid Sis has finally put those fears to rest with Ultraviolet, a fresh batch of tracks that run the gamut from frothy club-bangers (“Right Hand Hi”) to sultry electro-pop that Lady Gaga would give her Gyroscope costume for (“Daydreaming”), to “You Ain’t Really Down,” a cover of the 1983 Status IV underground hit that she flips into an homage to ‘90s girl-groups like En Vogue.

Speaking to ShockHound on a cell phone from New York City, Kid Sister exuded a sassy cool amidst the chaotic blur of activity around her as she took a somewhat calamitous urban stroll.

SHOCKHOUND: It’s really early here, and I’m not much of a morning person. So please be kind.

KID SISTER: [Laughs] It’s okay, don’t trip. I went out last night, and I’m moving a little slow myself.

SHOCKHOUND: You’re really active in Twitter. You were recently talking about grueling rehearsals for your upcoming tour while you were in LA.

KID SISTER: Yeah, at the beautiful SIR Studios in Hollywood, California. I have a couple of dancers, Flosstradamus travel with me as DJs, and my brother Josh is also like my hype-man onstage. The sound guy, the lighting guy — a girl has got to keep her game together, you know? Hey, watch out!

SHOCKHOUND: What?

KID SISTER: Sorry. I’m walking in Manhattan with my friend and she almost stepped in what looks like a huge pile of horse poop. Sorry.

SHOCKHOUND: No problem. Friends don’t let friends step in horse poop. So, your album went through a number of false starts and name changes…

KID SISTER: Yeah, we did away with the first one and reconfigured the whole album. The biggest difference is that we took off some mid-tempo songs and added more up-tempo ones. Songs like [early leaked track] “Family Reunion” will always be around. But for the most part, those songs won’t ever come out. Unless someone leaks them!

[Sound of rushing wind, a crash and a distant scream.]

SHOCKHOUND: Are you okay?!

KID SISTER: I’m sorry, boo. It’s just like Armageddon weather here in New York today and it just tried to take my phone. [Laughs] Can I get a vanilla latté?

SHOCKHOUND: I’m going to assume you’re not talking to me?

KID SISTER:: [Laughs] No. Sorry. I really need this coffee right now.

SHOCKHOUND: So after all of the delays, how does it feel to finally have a finished album to share with your fans?

KID SISTER: It’s so crazy, I’m so excited. It’s nuts. I couldn’t have ever imagined it would turn out like this. We just did the Fun Fun Fun Fest in Austin, Texas, and it was complete bonkers. All of these kids knew the words to my songs; there were babies and old folks and everyone. It was just a nice mix of people and that’s exactly what I want to see at my shows. I want everyone to come and feel comfortable.

SHOCKHOUND: Is there any particular song on the album that’s your favorite? Maybe one with a special meaning for you?

KID SISTER: They all are, babe. I’m like the Octo-Mom over here. They’re all my babies. Everyone is special.

SHOCKHOUND: Be honest. I’m sure even Octo-Mom has favorites.

KID SISTER: Well, maybe. [Laughs] But like any parent, I care too much to ever say it out loud. I’m proud of every single one of them. I put so much work into everything that I do. I’m pretty exacting.

SHOCKHOUND:: Gnarls Barkley singer and former Goodie Mob rapper Cee-Lo sings on the song “Daydreaming.” How did that come about?

KID SISTER: He had called me, and mentioned he’d be interested in doing something on the record. I was like, “You can do whatever you want!” He was so cool. I love him. He’s the nicest guy and really supportive of my music.

SHOCKHOUND: I saw on Twitter that you were anxious about a meeting with a certain producer to listen to tracks he’d made for you. You didn’t name the person in case the music “turned out to be wack.” So how did it go?

KID SISTER: Oh, I still can’t name that person, because they were kind of wack! (Laughs). It wasn’t like Pharrell or anything. It was this super-Top 40 guy. It happens.

SHOCKHOUND: So even though your debut album is just coming out, you’re already working on the next one?

KID SISTER: Yeah, for sure. You can’t ever rest. It’s always about on to the next thing.

SHOCKHOUND: On “Pro Nails,” you represented Chicago hip-hop with Kanye West. Now you’ve just recorded, “Everybody Wants,” a single with Chicago house music hero Green Velvet for the re-launch of his legendary Relief Records label.

KID SISTER: Listening to house is just part of growing up in Chicago. I used to go to this club called the Warehouse in Chicago where it all started. It was a laser tag place during the day. Do you remember laser tag? [Laughs]. But at night it was a club and we would sneak in to listen to all of the new dance music. So working with Green Velvet was like a dream come true. He’s like one of my biggest heroes growing up in that scene. I’m also kind of working with another Chicago house legend, Felix Da Housecat.

SHOCKHOUND: Given the great music he made with Miss Kitten, that should be an inspired collaboration.

KID SISTER: It’s something we’ve been talking about for a while now. It’s the craziest thing. I was born in this small town in Illinois called Markham. Oddly enough, Green Velvet also lived in that town. We lived like a couple of streets away from each other. Then my parents moved to a place called Richton Park. Felix Da Housecat lived across the major street from me. I was like, “Are you fucking kidding me?” How crazy is that? But that’s Chicago for you.

SHOCKHOUND: You earned a degree in film at Columbia College Chicago. Do you have any aspirations to get into acting?

KID SISTER: Oh, you know that I do. I started out in musical theater. I’ve studied acting for many years. It was definitely a bigger interest then than it is now. I just kind of let whatever happens, happen. I take it day by day. As long as it’s something I enjoy, I’ll do it the best that I can.

(I think you can figure out where the edit of this one was originally published. The pics are by Jeremiah Garcia. When I was working @ Metromix, I sent him to shoot her w/DJ A-Trak when they performed as part of "First Fridays" at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles. Good times...)

The Dirty Show came to L.A.* (NSFW)

Once upon a time, there was a guy in Detroit called Jerry Vile. He was in a band called the Boners. He went on to start a newspaper called Fun. Fun was like the original Vice, only much better and not as nearly as annoying. Fun eventually evolved into Orbit, which I'd term as the original alternative alt-weekly. Instead of covering local politics, Orbit covered local porn stars, drug fiends and night-crawlers. Orbit was amazing. Orbit is also where I scored my first writing job after college.

It would take forever to explain the Orbit Years, so I'll just tell you that it was way more fun than should be allowed by law. No one partied harder than the boss (and many tried). Sex, drugs and punk fucking rock were the order of the day in that office.

But what made Orbit special was the insane amounts of talent that graced the masthead. Guys like Paul Zimmerman and Glenn Barr and Tristan Eaton and Doug Coombe and David Keeps and Brenna Sanchez and I could go on. You probably don't recognize any of those names, but they're all fantastic artists that have influenced me in ways I'll probably never be able to fully comprehend. And it's all good.

Post-Orbit, Jerry Vile (AKA Jerry Peterson) went on to found "The Dirty Show," a wild erotic art show that's now been in existence for more than a decade. This past weekend, Jerry brought The Dirty Show to L.A. for the first time.

It has held in a truly seedy hotel in downtown, with each room decked out with art. A (pretty wasted!) Suicide Girl named Chloe played hostess. And there were so many Detroiters in the house I couldn't tell if I was at home or in heaven.

Sundays are just so different now

When cool things happen at strange places: Mayer Hawthorne at the Westfield Mall

They’d been promoting it for weeks, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world: Ann Arbor, MI’s new soul sensation Mayer Hawthorne, performing a free concert at the Westfield Mall in Culver City, CA, as part of a KCRW promotion.

I when I say mall, the Westfield shopping plaza is of the classic mall of your youth variety. An endless maze of multi-leveled consumer madness, my buddy Tony Pierce tells me Westfield was originally built as something of a buffer to keep the people from southern L.A. from raiding the Beverly Center.

The stage was set up in the ‘Dining Terrace’ area. When I arrived, Garth Trinidad was spinning some tunes. A few people were seated in the about 200 folding chairs set up in front of the stage. I quickly grabbed a second row seat on the aisle.

By the time Mayer and his band the County hit the stage, there were a few hundred people amassed to see them play. There were a few hipsters, lots of random shoppers, and some cool families—a real polyglot of people. It was a classic mall scene.

Hawthorne and his band rocked it. They played a majority of the songs from his debut album “A Strange Arrangement.” They also slipped in a couple of nice covers – “Fall in Love” by Slum Village and “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra.

Dude was charming and smooth, and had the mall rocking pretty nicely for most of the set. It was bizarre and kind of random, but in the end it was really, really cool.

Satan's lasers

Fever Ray is scary. And amazing.

A couple of years ago, a friend (hi Henry!) offered me a ticket to see this band the Knife at the El Rey. Something had come up, and he was unable to go.


I’d heard the buzz on the Knife, but really didn’t know them from the proverbial Adam. But I knew the show was crazy sold out and the hottest ticket in town, so I bought it from him. Sometimes, I am smarter than I look.

The show was a mind-boggling multi-media event that kind of defies description. The Swedish brother-sister duo brought it on every level, and then some.

Fast-forward to this week. I knew Fever Ray (which is a solo project from the sister half of the Knife) was coming to town. But being generally overwhelmed by life, didn’t really pursue it. I have enough shows on my plate, you know.

Randomly on the day of the show, I get an email from Fever Ray’s publicist telling me that I’m on the list.

OK, the universe had decided that I was to see Fever Ray. Who am I to argue?

Once again, I’ve proven myself to be smarter (and luckier) than I look.

Despite the show being sold out, I was able to secure a nice comfy seat in the balcony.

That’s when I noticed the crowd. It was a pretty wild mix of hipsters and collegiate types. My favorites were the hardcore fans that came in full neo-tribal face-paint, a look that goes very interestingly with jeans and a t-shirt.

The opener was Nosaj Thing, a one-man show operation. 

Dude makes nice music. It’s very M83-lite meets the more melodic end of Radiohead. Lots of synths, very dreamy. All good. 

My only issue is calling his performance a “live show.” Basically, we watched a guy tweak some knobs on a box and stare at a laptop screen while interpretively dancing. Where I come from, that constitutes a DJ gig. That’s all.

Things got really interesting in the time leading up to Fever Ray. The music being played was so messed up. I called it “music to disturb people.” It was reminiscent of an Italian horror movie soundtrack from the late ‘60s.

But then Fever Ray came on. Whoa.

The show was like a cross between Daft Punk and an ancient satanic ritual. With lasers. Lots and lots of lasers. It was one of the coolest nights out at a concert I’ve had all year. The music is just as techno-primitive as the Knife, all hypnotic beats and weird chanted vocals. Awesome.

HARD Summer: The aftermath, pt. 1

HARD Summer: The aftermath, pt. 2

HARD Summer goes limp

I was so psyched for HARD Summer. The line-up was tight, it was Saturday night—bring it!

The first bad omen came right after I parked (free spot on Manchester just a couple of blocks away from the Forum—holla!).

A block into my trek to the arena I spied a bunch of raver kids gathered on the sidewalk. They were all gathered around a small girl who was passed out with vomit down the front of her shirt. They had obviously just come out of the limo parked in the middle of the street. The driver was pacing and yelling into a cell about “these stupid fucking kids!”

Arriving at the Forum, I was cutting through the parking lot when I passed a kid between a couple of cars who gave me the strangest look. That’s when I noticed a girl on her knees in front of him. Ooookaaaay. So that’s how they get down these days. Damn.

Swarms of kids everywhere. Lots of ravers. Some girl screams at a bunch of kids “How many of you have been raving for more than three years?!”

They just kind of looked at her.

“Then you’re not ravers!” She shouted and marched off. Ooooookkaaaaaay.

The entrance to the arena by the will-call was a mob scene. I could hear Crystal Castles playing inside. Damn it!

I tried the whole media line with some security but to no avail. I was delegated to the back of the line with the now thousands of kids trying to get in. Sigh.

Suddenly, there’s a roar of cheering. Some kids had crashed the security gate by the will-call ticket entrance, and are rushing inside. There are so many of them security just freezes for a moment. By the time they mobilize, the damage has been done. The entrance was shut down.

From my vantage point, that left exactly two entrance points for the 18000-seat arena. I marched my sorry ass to the back of one and waited it out. I even ran into my old buddy Jay from the days of Blueprint Test Preparation. Random.

There are cops everywhere. The scene is chaotic. A guy runs by followed by a girl screaming that he stole her ticket. Cops are everywhere—on motorcycles, in cars, even on those weird electric scooter things. One cop car drives by with a couple of girls in the back.

By the time I got inside, it was already bordering on crazy. Kids everywhere. Lots of girls are sporting the finest in this season’s barely-there fashions. Lady Gaga seems to have gotten to them, since the prevailing statement this evening was wearing panties as pants. I haven’t seen that much bare ass since, well, Electric Daisy Carnival.

I try in vain to get onto the main floor, which has been sealed off by security. It’s almost surreal how many people are packed into the Forum. People by the dozens are trying to get onto the floor. I wander around the arena for a minute before giving up and just grabbing a seat high up in the balcony.

I was in the highest balcony actually, getting a good look at the mayhem below. People in the lower bowl are actually doing the wave. The energy in the room is sky-high.

Mind you, there is no music playing. There hasn’t been any sound the entire time I’ve been inside. Even the quietest of beats from the PA elicit deafening cheers. But they are few and far between.

Chromeo’s set time comes and goes. I’m surrounded by kids, most of them doing drugs. The groups next to me, in front of me and behind me are all smoking marijuana. The guys to my right pass around small blue pills, and ceremoniously down them simultaneously. People are ready to party, and party hard.

When there’s still no music an hour after Chromeo’s proposed set time, the booing started. Cries of “Fuck HARD!” and “This is bullshit!” ring out. People are still pouring into the cheap seats around me, and the main floor looked like a seething pit of rave madness.

Kids started jumping from the balcony onto the main floor. A harried stage manager is vainly begging for order over the mic, but it’s too far gone already.


Two hours go by. I noticed the guys at the soundboard slowly putting their gear away. A line of security followed by another line of state troopers and then cops in riot gear began gathering in front of the stage. The house lights went up. The cops got into riot formation and began slowly moving the massive crowd out of the arena.

A garbled announcement is made: There will be no show tonight.

Boos and plastic water bottles rain down onto the floor. A big cup of ice grazes one of the riot cops, which of course gets a big cheer of approval.


But to their credit, the cops and security were able to clear that entire arena pretty much without incident. Kudos; that scene could have very easily turned really ugly very quickly.

It was the general post-shutdown malarkey in the parking. Lots of people talking about refunds, and where they were going to go now that the E is really kicking in and there’s no party.

Michael Jackson “Thriller” demos unearths lost gems

In the continuing rush by Michael Jackson fans to celebrate his musical legacy, sales of his most popular songs and albums have set records since his unexpected death in June.

But for the more hardcore historians, it’s meant digging deeper to find the most obscure and often unreleased material possible. In the case of the “The Unheard Music” blog, that search has uncovered a trove of studio demos for Jackson’s legendary “Thriller” album produced by Quincy Jones -- the famed recording that won the Grammy for album of the year.

While many longtime fans have been collecting these versions for years, for the rest of us it’s a fascinating and ultimately rewarding glimpse into the inner workings of a classic.

There are songs that didn’t make the final cut, like “Hot Street,” which houses a potentially great chorus amid dated synthesizer sounds, and a solid if relatively pedestrian ballad, “Carousel.” An early take on “Billie Jean” stands out due to a bleating keyboard bass line instead of the cool funk of the final version.

From there it dives into random outtakes and studio detritus, such as a vocal snippet from a song called “Groove of Midnight” that features Jackson and an engineer discussing his hair growth (Jackson shouts out Sebastian hair products). There’s even a clip of “Starlight,” which was the original title of “Thriller” before Jackson decided it needed to be something catchier.

But the real find here . . .

. . .is “Love Never Felt So Good,” a fantastic song that features a multi-tracked Jackson singing over just a piano and finger snaps. It’s a classic vocal performance, rich with his trademark emotion and percussive singing style. It’s truly baffling how this song was never developed further or simply released as is.

Altogether, this collection of demos is an intriguing glimpse into the blueprints of the bestselling album of all time.

(Originally published in the L.A. Times)

I saw Grace Jones last night

Grace Jones at the Hollywood Bowl was everything I wanted it to be and less. I say "less" because my only quibble with the show were the songs she didn't play—"Nightclubbing," "Private Life" and "Warm Leatherette" are just a few of the classics she omitted from her set.

Still, it was a tremendous show that proved exactly why she's so revered as one of the ultimate divas of all time. Costume changes were numerous, including one amazing red flower geometric-shaped dress during "La Vie En Rose" that when she turned around was completely backless, revealing her naked 61 year old ass to the crowd. Priceless.

I realize that it's 'cool' to name-check Grace Jones. But I can honestly say I've loved her music since I was around 13, which is when my older brother left his copy of the "Nightclubbing" album in my room. And I ain't been right since.

Missed the Noisettes at Spaceland? You're going to Long Beach on Friday night

There was no shortage of notable concerts in L.A. last night. From O.C. pop-punk legends No Doubt’s triumphant return to the stage with the Sounds and Paramore at Universal City to British alt-rockers Elbow at the Wiltern, concertgoers had myriad of options to choose from.

But it may have been a surprisingly buzz-free show by emerging London indie upstarts Noisettes at Spaceland that delivered the night's most striking performance.

Fronted by captivating fashion plate Shingai Shoniwa (pictured) on lead vocals and bass, the trio -- augmented at Spaceland by a female backing singer and an auxiliary bass player to allow Shoniwa to roam the stage more freely -- commanded the packed room with a presence and sense of musicianship sorely lacking in far too many bands found under the tag “indie.”

Opening with the bouncy title track from their more refined sophomore album “Wild Young Hearts,” they stormed through tracks from both of their full-length releases with a decided air of confidence. Hard-charging numbers like “Scratch Your Name” segued easily into the dramatic girl-group histrionics of “Never Forget You.”

Though the firebrand personality and muscular vocals of Shoniwa grab a lion’s share of the attention, the boys in the band more than hold their own. Guitarist Dan Smith is a subtle and creative axe-slinger, and drummer Jamie Morrison is their secret weapon, a blur of bushy hair and drumsticks as he bashes out the big beats.

Veering through danceable pop hooks, aggressive rock riffing and hazy atmospherics, the biggest question of the night hung in the air like a cartoon bubble: Why isn’t this band way more popular than they already are?

Granted, their records have yet to fully capture the primal energy and abilities of this underrated outfit. But given the rapturous response to their take-no-prisoners performance at Spaceland last night, the only thing standing between Noisettes and “next big thing” status is time.

But perhaps the best news in all of this? If you happened to miss the Wednesday night gig at Spaceland (no judging, we like No Doubt too), you can see the Noisettes on Friday night at 7 p.m. in Long Beach -- free. The band will perform an in-store at terrific indie record shop Fingerprints, 4612 E. 2nd St.

The store is asking those who want to attend to RSVP, so call now at (562) 433-4996.

-Scott T. Sterling

(Originally published in L.A. Times)

In 1980, the Talking Heads were damn near the greatest band in the world

And will someone please help me find that SICK Talking Heads t-shirt the bass player is sporting with the airplanes on the front? I wish I had a time machine just to go back to one of these shows and shut down the merch booth. We're talking one of each and two of a few. Holla!

PS: There's an even hotter version on Youtube from Rome where Adrian Belew goes bananas on the guitar. The crowd is feeling it big time.

Adam 'MCA' Yauch of Beastie Boys diagnosed with cancer; album, tour postponed

One of the year’s most anticipated album/tour campaigns has been pushed back indefinitely due to the shocking announcement from the Beastie Boys camp this morning that the one of their members has been diagnosed with a cancerous tumor.

“Adam 'MCA' Yauch of Beastie Boys was diagnosed last week as having a cancerous tumor in his left parotid [salivary] gland,” reads the official press release from EMI Music. “Luckily it was caught early and is localized in one area, and as such is considered very treatable. It will however require surgery and several weeks of additional treatment. Fortunately the cancer is not in a location that will affect Yauch's vocal chords. Beastie Boys have canceled all upcoming concert appearances to allow time for Yauch's surgery and recovery. The release of the band's forthcoming album 'Hot Sauce Committee Part 1' will also be pushed back.”

This scraps dates slated for summer festivals such as Chicago’s Lollapalooza and San Francisco’s Outside Lands. Locally, this means that the band’s debut at the Hollywood Bowl scheduled for Sept. 24 will have to wait for another summer.

Yauch originally made the announcement via YouTube, where he did his best to maintain a sense of humor about the diagnosis: “It's a pain in the neck (sorry had to say it) because I was really looking forward to playing these shows, but the doctors have made it clear that this is not the kind of thing that can be put aside to deal with later."

Here’s to a fast and full recovery.

Photo: Adam “MCA” Yauch onstage at this year's Bonnaroo Festival in Manchester, Tenn. Credit: Jason Merritt/Getty Images

*Originally published by L.A. Times*

Fast food gets a frighteningly real R&B parody

When superstar rapper Jay-Z came across the use of the suddenly controversial music program Auto-Tune in the now-infamous “Frosty Posse” TV commercial for fast-food chain Wendy’s, he was supposedly moved to pen “D.O.A.” ("Death of Auto-Tune"), declaring Auto-Tune officially over.

“They're joking on it. It's like, OK, enough of that,” he mused to MTV News last month. “It was a trend. It was cool in the beginning. Some people made great music with it. Now it's time to move on.”

While pundits debate both sides of the issue, one can only imagine the inevitable fallout that’s probably starting right about now in the wake of the latest Taco Bell campaign, wryly titled “It’s All About the Roosevelts” (in reference to the former president’s mug on dimes) to promote their new value menu.

For one, producers Dr. Dre and Scott Storch could make a solid case that one of the cut's main hooks — what sounds to be a sample of a Japanese koto — is strikingly similar to the one that anchors the cut “Still D.R.E.” from Dre’s second solo album, “Chronic 2001.”

But from the whispered delivery of the verses, annoyingly catchy chorus and the ridiculously over-the-top video, “It’s All About the Roosevelts” sounds like Andy Samberg’s the Lonely Island playing an amazing practical joke on some unwitting ad agency. Shown before film screenings and throughout the 2009 MLB All-Star Game, the song wouldn’t sound out of place between Lady Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas on pop radio.

In short, it’s kind of the jam. Which also means it’s sure to make someone — most likely a recording artist or a producer — really mad. At least that's our hope. Anyone?

(Originally published in the L.A. Times)

Hungry like the wolf: Julie Ann Rhodes goes from rock 'n' roll wife to food fame

The next time you want to test the mettle of a hard-core Duran Duran fan, mention Julie Ann Rhodes.

True “Durannies” are well versed in the fairytale romance between DD keyboardist Nick Rhodes and the Iowa-born model Julie Ann Friedman, whom he met at a party in Los Angeles during the early ‘80s. After a whirlwind courtship, the pair married in a lavish Art Deco-inspired ceremony at London’s Savoy Hotel in 1984, and became a fixture on the global party circuit. The two had one daughter, Tatjana, before divorcing in the late ‘90s.

After developing an interest in healthful eating for her young daughter, Julie Ann Rhodes became a founding member of England’s Parents for Safe Foods before embarking on a short-lived stint in acting.

But her love for fine cuisine eventually pulled her back into the kitchen, resulting in the Roving Stove, an L.A.-based personal chef service she created in 2002. The successful venture has allowed Julie Ann Rhodes to indulge her inner foodie, which is on full display on her blog 'Jewels' From the Roving Stove, where she shares personal stories about her years traveling with Duran Duran, favorite recipes and reviews of fine restaurants 'round the world.

Her motto: “The glamour doesn’t have to stop when you put the apron on.”

Rhodes hardly shies away from her Duran-affiliated past, going so far as to coin her online recipe videos “Girl on Film”; she's also quick to recall personal anecdotes about celebrity friends ranging from the late artist Keith Haring to famed music producer/Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers.

The blog offers often fascinating insights of someone who very easily could have become yet another footnote in music history, but instead proved herself to be a savvy businesswoman who has made her own lucrative mark in the world of food -- not to mention lots of great behind-the-scenes photos from her years as an A-list rock and roll wife.

(Originally published on L.A. Times)

My journalism gold star of the week

As weird as it may sound to some, I have a serious passion for media. It goes back as far as I can remember.

It probably started as a wee lad, when my parents used a massive TV as my primary babysitter starting around the age of 10 or so. But there's something about being as close to the source of news as possible that is genuinely thrilling for me.

Being at the L.A. Times as news of Michael Jackson's death broke was huge. I have the distinction of writing the first post for the Times confirming that he was indeed dead (it paid to be the one music writer in the building at the time when everyone else was out on various assignments). It was a minor piece in the grand scheme of things, but it was the first official confirmation of the story (TMZ can suck it).

Yesterday, an old friend posted a link on Facebook regarding a band (Sons of Maxwell, pictured above) that was taking United Airlines to task for thrashing their very expensive Taylor guitar. Since I work right next to the Travel department (and very cool Travel writer Chris Reynolds), I forwarded the link to Chris in case he could use it.

Chris (a guitarist himself) ran with the lead, calling UA for details. When all was said and done, he came up with this story.

Since then, the piece has generated a ton of clicks, and was even picked up by the Huffington Post, where it's gathering even more steam.

So now the piece is a huge win for the Times, and page views are going through the roof.

I'm not the best at blowing my own horn, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I was particularly pleased with myself right now. I feel like a real journalist or something.

And that's how I earned my journalism gold star of the week.

Michael Jackson: You Rocked Our World

A memorial mural on La Brea Avenue just south of Olympic, Los Angeles CA. You'll notice that fans had left flowers and candles at the spot.