Well,
I started taking jazz drum lessons today. Is that enough of an update?
13 Comments »Chromeo: A Show Review in 1 Minute or Less
Been too busy to blog about the Chromeo show last Sunday, but it was, as you can imagine, pretty fucking rad.
We missed the opening act; a DJ Rad who, judging by his MySpace page, wasn’t all that rad anyway. He was followed by Steed Lord, a sort of low-rent Lords of Acid who wants SO desperately to be Lords of Acid that they stole 1/3 of their name. Meh.
Shortly before Chromeo appeared, the audience began chanting the “Chro-me-oh, Whoooaaa-oh” chant from the start of their second album when suddenly, as if they knew the tempo of the song by heart, the beat joined the audience. While they continued chanting, Chromeo came on stage, backlit by a big wall of flashing multi-colored lights. Dave got extra awesome points when, after their first song, he made a Curb Your Enthusiasm reference. “That was pretty good,” he began, and just as I was about to start my best Larry David impression he followed up. “Prettayyyy prettayyyyy….pretty good.”
The live show is a little different than I had imagined. Dave generally handles guitar and bass duties, P-Thugg the synths (occasionally bass as well), but between the two of them was a rack with a couple mounted woodblocks, cowbells and splash cymbals, which each of them took turns smashing from time to time. Dave is also a much more accomplished guitar player than his albums would lead you to believe, and he threw a lot more solo trickery into the live versions of his songs. Wicked guitar solos with harmonized talk box only adds to the sweatiness.
They contrived to pull out two encores between two albums of material, and I’m pretty sure they performed it all. Overall, a pretty straightforward show without a lot of stage antics or anything (save for a brief 80’s medley, comprised mainly of Journey but with a short digression into The Outfield’s “Your Love”, which slayed me), but definitely a band whose music lends itself well to a live performance — I loved every second of it.
I felt obligated to buy my brother some merch, since he introduced me to Chromeo a couple years ago, and I picked him up a shirt and a vinyl, as well as two additional shirts for my GF and myself. The show pretty much cost me a fortune, but well worth it. I think that makes up for the fact that I don’t actually own any Chromeo albums in the physical sense. *cough*
1 Comment »How Not to Get Rich Quick with Google Maps
I discovered a feature on my new Blackberry the other day — in the Google Maps application — in which I can perform voice searches. I push the “walkie talkie” button the side of my phone, say the name of a business, an address or something I’m looking for and Google produces a list for me.
To test, I tried speaking “Safeway” into my phone. A few seconds later a list of Safeways appeared, ordered by distance from my current location. Impressed, I tried “train station” and a list of MAX stops appeared. I was then completely out of ideas and moved onto something else.
Later, I was showing the feature to my GF, demonstrating by speaking the names of a couple local businesses into it. We then tried a couple vague searches; “ice cream” or “sushi,” for example. I am now testing the limits of this feature’s usefulness, having searched for, with disappointing results, “bag of money,” “buried treasure,” and “missing children.” Searches for “cocaine” and “heroin” produced only places at which I can receive treatment.
Curiously, “prostitutes” produced a list of businesses. If any of you plan on visiting me in the near future and need to track me down, these results should give you a good idea of where to I can be found.
Speaking of which, yes, I got a local Portland number. You should have received a text with my new number. If you didn’t, my new number is listed on my Facebook. If you neither text or use Facebook, I’m not entirely sure why or how you’re friends with me, since those two things are really the only way I’m capable of communicating anymore.
4 Comments »J-dog Takes the Blue Line
I found this card on the train about a week ago. On the back is some vague bullshit about the fact that I’m forgiven for something I’m pretty sure I never did.
The best part about this card is I cannot for the life of me figure out what the hell it is trying to convey. I spent a good portion of the train ride home trying to decipher the painting’s meaning. Here’s a couple possible interpretations of my own:
• Jesus is a fearsome vampire and killed this vampire hunter (a middle-class dad, circa 1995) just before he could drive a stake through vampire Jesus’ heart
• A clumsy carpenter — or a gardener who uses the wrong tools, in either case a middle-class dad, circa 1995 — has injured himself with his giant spike and mallet, fainting from loss of blood. Jesus is carrying him, very awkwardly, to a nearby clinic
• Jesus, a confused junior high girl, is experiencing his first period. His middle-class dad (circa 1995) who was busy hanging family photos in the living room (where they also have their garden) with a giant mallet and spike, has fainted, overwhelmed with emotion as a result of the realization that his little girl Jesus is growing up.
Try it yourself, it’s pretty fun.
22 Comments »Ever Had a 2.5 Hour-Long Orgasm?
That’s because you haven’t seen The Dark Knight in IMAX.
4 Comments »…Seriously?
I need my memory jogged.
What was that short-lived, totally effin’ raaaadical extreme sport that enjoyed brief popularity in the 90’s and was practiced solely by young girls, clumsy, uncoordinated teenagers, confused middle-aged couples and a couple other classes whose one unifying characteristic was either “doesn’t know any better” or “complete lack of shame?”
Oh yeah, rollerblading.
I saw a couple kids downtown today r…ro… …rollerblading, and my initial reaction was that it was typical Portland hipster irony. You know, “Dudes, let’s grow out ridiculous mustaches like we’re all cops” or “Dudes, let’s all get jackets that went out of style in the 70’s.” Does “Dudes, I’m going to strap some rollerblades on and slide on a marble ledge on one foot while holding the toes of my free foot” constitute irony yet? It should, but these kids looked like they were all taking themselves pretty seriously. It totally blew my mind.
Keep ‘em in the closet with the moon-shoes and hula-hoop, guys. You were embarrassing yourselves 15 years ago, you’re embarrassing yourselves in 2008. It’s over.
No Comments »July 27th Forecast: Sweaty
Forilla.
Man Led to Satanism Through Children’s Toy, Tells Story with Straight Face
Good for about a zillion laughs.
Comments to the video good for about a brazilian laughs.
8 Comments »The Inevitable Outcome of Evolution
A warning to mankind, on sticky note.
White Guilt: Absolved
I had just gotten off the train and was heading back to my special lady friend’s apartment (which has more or less been “home” for a couple months now), and was busy punching a pointless text message into my phone when a guy stopped me. “Excuse me,” he began. He had a cigarette out, so I figured he was about to ask for a light and was preparing my standard “I don’t smoke” response when he continued. “Can I ask you something?” Well, I didn’t see why he couldn’t and nodded. “We’re Indians,” he began again, motioning towards his two friends. I just stood in silence, waiting for him to finish this thought. Then, as if he was saying something I wouldn’t believe, he finished “Real Indians.”
“Okay…?” I prompted. “All we need is one dollar. Just this one time. Just once. Do you have just one dollar?”
Normally I don’t carry cash, and I’m fully aware of this, but I dutifully check my pockets every time I’m asked for change anyway. But this time I actually DID have change. Since I didn’t even know it was there, I didn’t mind giving it to him. As I fished the coins out, I puzzled over his stressing of the “real Indians” point, finally deciding that he must have meant I owed him reparations. Well, maybe not. But I thought it was funny. I handed him the quarters, which he graciously accepted.
“Please forgive us,” he begged, but I knew what he was really trying to say: “We forgive you.” I turned to leave and he held out his fist. “Hey,” he concluded, “Friendship.” I pounded his fist with my own and returned to my text.
So. I’m forgiven. I don’t know about the rest of you jerks. Seriously, how do you live with yourselves?
7 Comments »
