Spooky vids, for this night of Mischief!

It should come as no surprise that I adore Halloween. When else is it socially acceptable to run around dressed like a zombie princess fairy...gorging yourself on Mars Bars and carving semi-disturbing faces into unsuspecting vegetables? Plus the whole thing has vaguely sadistic, anti-religious roots (my freshman year roommate claimed it "violated Catholicism"), which, all in all, makes me pretty happy.

Unfortunately, Halloween videos pretty much universally suck ass (call it the kitsch factor, if you must) and since no one wants to watch a re-posting of "The Monster Mash" or 7-year-olds attempting the "Thriller" dance, I've taken the liberty of finding some forgotten gems, which--while not specifically designated for the Eve of Hallows --are pretty fucking chilling nonetheless. Exhibit:

"Panic" -- the Smiths
How come everything Morrissey does is vaguely creepy? Here he is in stop-motion, staring blankly into space, and singing about losing his mind. Plus, stuff is on fire! Oh, the horror.

"Jack the Ripper" -- Nick Cave
Nick Cave rolling his head menacingly, interspersed with bloody knives. Delightful.

"Ghost Mountain" -- The Unicorns
Not quite horror in the traditional sense, Canadian lo-fi gods the Unicorns choose clips from a 1950's heroin education movie to accompany their tune. Don't do drugs, kids!

"I put a spell on you" -- CCR
God, I love John Fogerty.

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Demographic Study: The girl scout (Halloween special)

Ah, Halloween. Probably my favorite holiday of them all, the 31st of October seems to spawn its own assortment of fun and bizarro spook-tacular types. Everyone already knows about the V&C Angel (that stands for vodka & cocaine), the sexy sorority type who sees Halloween as an excuse to wear underwear and fake wings in public and hook up with randos -- not to mention the Bad Santa -- the slightly skeevy dude who picks a warm, fuzzy and seemingly harmless alter ego (Santa, a Sesame Street character, a gorilla), to entice girls to sit on his lap. After all, it's not like Santa is gonna roofie you, right? And of course, who could forget Joe Poop, the sardonic fun-wrecker who shows up at the bash without a costume, because "Halloween is for losers anyway." Yeah, whatever, JP.

Bad santa. (Not to be confused with the Billy Bob Thornton movie of the same name.)

But enough about these types. You've seen them all 1,000 times, and might even be one yourself. So instead let's discuss a personal favorite of mine, the queen of meaning and dictator of what's what: the girl scout.

Named after a costume of my own circa 2003 (although actually, come to think of it, I was a boy scout that year...my gay best friend, Chris, was a girl scout), the girl scout--like a merit-badge-seeking missile--has very specific criteria as to what constitutes a perfect costume.

Me and Chris, Halloween '03. Yes, that is a scarf acting as "hair."

In order to be appropriate, a costume must be:

1. Original (no one wants to be the second Britney Spears at the bash...although Britney Spears marred by a flesh-eating disease is perfectly acceptable)

2. Home-made (nothing says sell-out like buying your costume at Walmart); and

3. Chaste and appropriate enough for late fall weather.

Number 3 is what really gets the girl scout's blood boiling: nothing pisses her off quite like some drunken half-naked nurse, using her stethoscope as a beer-funnel. Don't they know about the woman's lib movement? Their behavior is atrocious. Plus aren't they afraid of catching pneumonia walking around with their midriffs exposed?

The google image results for "slutty Halloween" are astounding.
I picked this one because the costumes really seem like quite a
stretch (ha!) and because Super Flexible woman on the left
here clearly had to get a bikini wax for the occassion.

In reality, the girl scout is probably the teeniest bit jealous of the V&C Angel, who can pull off this shameless look confidently, and probably has nicer boobs too. If only throwing away one's dignity was so easy! But the girl scout has morals, and thus, must stick to them.

Still, if the opportunity arose, the girl scout would gladly hop into the closet with the cute Ron Weasley look-alike for 7 minutes in heaven -- the girl scout is not anti-sex, just anti sex-by-sluttiness. The girl scout views her Halloween hook-up as a victory for smart, creative types everywhere -- that and -- wait, how many glasses of cider have I had? Six? Already? Well, fuck. Is it just me, or is this merit-badge vest getting itchy?

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Neighborhood Watch: Why the Phillies should win the World Series (from the viewpoint of a complete non-sports fan)

Let me start by saying: I'm not really into baseball. Never have been. In the past 2 years, I've attended maybe 4 or 5 games courtesy of my work; I have spent 100% of all of them completely wasted. (One game I even hid the last of my PBR stash in a bush outside the stadium, so I could retrieve it and continue drinking on the way back.) I only know about this whole World Series thing in the first place because it's plastered everywhere (on the Septa buses, the front page of the Metro, facebook), which makes me, I suppose, one of those blasé fairweather Phillies fans that jumps on the sporty bandwagon only when there's a party involved. It's true. I make no excuses.

You know how when you go to sporting events/amusement parks they
have those people with cameras who take your picture and give
you a little card and then you can go online and look at it, only it
has an obnoxious watermark on it, so that you have to pay $78497987
if you want an actual copy? Here's one I tried to photoshop the
watermark out of. Notice how many friend Laura looks like a burn victim.

That being said: Can we please talk about this outrageous Yankees/Phils world series thing that is happening?

Yes? Ok.

Now. As a Jersey girl, you could argue, I really could go either way in this debate. I was born in the swank (sort of), suburban (definitely) area of North Jersey that breeds Dave Matthews Band-loving social climbers who dream of one day moving to NYC. (Case-in-point: my 5-year high school reunion was held in Manhattan, an hour away.) 95% of these people are Yankees fans; there's a renegade maybe 3% who root for the Mets, and a couple who like the Baltimore Orioles, for no apparent reason. But mostly it's about the Yankees. There's just something about this team -- their formidable track record and players who date super models and Madonna perhaps-- that epitomizes success. The Yankees SHOULD win the World Series, because they're so American.

Madonna and A-Rod. Did this actually happen?

Of course, I'm a Philly girl now, and I've always hated New York (too big, too expensive, too impersonal) and I've ALWAYS rooted for the underdog (the indie rockers of the baseball scene.) Which leads me to:

TOP 3 REASONS WHY THE YANKEES SHOULD NOT WIN THE SERIES:

1. New York Sucks
2. New York is for selloutz
3. Fuck New York

Also, the Yanks have won like 38408098 times in the past 20 years; the Phils have won once. Also ALSO, I want another party. By which I mean: massive rioting next to my house. There's nothing like incessant horn honking to ease one to sleep.

Rioting. Last year.

World on the street is that game 1 kicks off Wednesday...which means a 4 quick wins and it should be over by Sunday. I have my rioting gear ready. Go Phillies!

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Park the Van Tour: In photos

(photos originally published at Phrequency.com. See even more -- and read about the show -- here.)

Wednesday night marked the kick-off to Park the Van's fall tour -- the delightfully poppy New Orleans-based label who launched the careers of many Philly favorites, including Dr. Dog, the Teeth, the Capitol Years and more.

Now, they're busy combing the coast, with a killer line-up in tow: Wilmington, DE sweethearts, the Spinto Band, along with feisty Brooklyn songwriter Pepi Ginsberg and down South pop-sters Generationals. I caught all 3 at Johnny Brenda's, where the spunky tunes and spot-on musicianship had the crowd dancing and cheering for more. Click any photo to enlarge.

Generationals:





Pepi Ginsberg:





The Spinto Band:









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They're on a BOAT, mother-f*ckers, on a BOAT

Described by the hilarious Christopher T. as a "poor man's YACHT", BOAT -- who share the same affliction for excessive capitalization and nautical monikers -- are a delightfully messy garage rock romp, whose half-sung lo-fi melodies are a far cry from YACHT's electronic prowess.

Their studied nonchalance has won them copious comparisons to Pavement; in reality, these Seattle, WA boys are probably more accessible, with catchy syncopated rhythms, hand claps, and snotty look-at-me lyrics (I was eating nachos, sitting with my mother... talking about growing up in New Jersey, a state without a hero, who could be our hero?)



There's a youthful exuberance to their songs that you might mistake for greenness (especially tracks like the very '90s "We've been friends since 1989") --actually, these dudes have been making tunes for almost 5 years. BOAT frontman/songwriter David Crane moonlights at a middle school teacher (or rather, I suppose, teacher David Crane moonlights as a rock star) and has stated that music is one of the ways in which he connects with his students.

"To me the music helps me filter out the feelings that I can’t get out any other way," he tells You Ain't No Picasso. "It is an outlet for my brain. I teach sixth grade and kind of feel like I have the mind/attention span of a sixth grader….I think some of the music reflects that. "

Their newest, Setting the Paces (officially out October 27) has been getting some major play in my iTunes as of late...here's a ridiculously silly video the band made to promote it:

(You can also stream 2 new tracks here.)

And if that isn't wonderful enough, to make matters EVEN BETTER, these guys hit PILAM (my former abode/frat-rock haven) on November 12, opening for Pants Yell! It's like you died and went to lo-fi heaven.

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Confessions of a boy's girl

I’m a boy’s girl. I always have been. By this I mean: given the choice, I’d rather be friends with guys than with girls. Or maybe not even. Just -– by whatever circumstances, I usually TEND to be friends with guys over girls. Why is this? I don’t know.

Perhaps it all stems back to childhood, and all those ridiculous gender constraints we were subjected to. Elementary school birthday parties, for example. My mom always told me: I had to invite all the girls in the class, and then whatever boys I wanted. And so I’d get less excited about smelly old Anne Shoehorn, who smelled (appropriately) like feet, and who I really didn’t like anyway, but totally psyched about Chris Marshall, who once gave me a pog. Hanging with the girls was a necessity, a social obligation; hanging with the boys was a choice. Besides, I had 2 brothers, and was used to running around the yard, building forts with them. Who WOULDN’T choose Ninja Turtles over infinitesimally small Barbie shoes? Certainly not me.

killer couch fort. From this site.

But if things started that way, they soon changed –- I remember 5th, 6th grade being insanely jealous of Sarah Fonstein and Allie Laffrey, the cool popular girls -- girls who had boyfriends who they got to sit next to and maybe even hold hands with during lunch, while bespectacled me was surrounded by 20 vaginas. Hanging with the boys became social cred –- it meant you were precocious and mature enough to be dating (unlike my 6th grade crush, who used to claim he “hated me” –- very 11-year-old-like -– and would avoid me in the hallways.)

My best guy friend at the time was a boy named Jack Thompson – a tiny, 4’ nothing shrimp of a guy with a mop of curly blond hair, and a mischievous grin. Jack was mostly silly, and would write me notes in English class, and when I wrote back, ball them up and eat them…but I got such a rush just talking to a BOY that it made me feel indescribably cool. After that point, pretty much any guy I was friendly with became prime crush material because –- after all -– wasn’t friendship the basis for all relationships? (I was such a philosopher back then.)

aww.

Unfortunately for me, during middle school I was mostly awkward and kinda a nerd, and so I ended up with just a lot of friendships. And shit with the girls was always dramatic (nothing spells PMS like getting your period for the first time) and so guys became my rock. And so it continued, up until high school when the orchestra went on a field trip to Disney World and I had no girl friends to room with because all of my buddies were dudes. And so my junior year, I ended up rooming with 3 freshmen – and tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. Freshman year in college, I got a reputation as a fag hag, because there were so many gay dudes surrounding me…later I joined a frat and was one of 2 girls living in a house with 16 guys. It’s certainly been a wild ride.

Knocking back a couple (in the dark, apparently) with my "frat brothers."

Of course, that’s not to say that through it all, there weren’t a small number of extremely awesome girls that I bonded with. There were. I do well in duos…and even trios, and sometimes quartets of women. Anything larger than that, and I feel like I’m at the Sigma Kappa sorority picnic and want to gouge my eyes out. I choose my girl friends wisely -– smart, capable women who are generally liberal and sassy and creative and drama-free. And while I might hang with the boys at a concert, or drink beers with them and watch TV, it’s my girlfriends with whom I really open up to –- they’re the ones who counsel me through shit in my life and invite me over for wine and gossip. They’re amazing, and I don’t know what I’d do without them. Come to think of it, perhaps I’m not a boy’s girl after all.

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INTRVW: Dead Man's Bones (Ryan Gosling!!!)

(originally published at Phrequency.com. Read the story there.)

Live. Via la-underground.

Dead Man’s Bones is the creation of one Ryan Gosling (yes, that Ryan Gosling) and friend/fellow actor Zach Shields. Inspired by a love of the supernatural, the band (who might be called “gothic folk”, if you had to put a label on it) teamed up with Los Angeles kiddies, the Silverlake Conservatory children’s choir, to record their self-titled debut album, out, appropriately, just in time for Halloween.

Full of eerie melodies, tinkering keys, and the innocent exuberance that only children can provide (for proof, check out the video for their first single, “The room where you sleep”), Dead Man’s Bones’ theatrical concoctions have been turning heads, and winning over tentative critics. (“Overall, I'm as surprised as you are with Dead Man's Bones,” wrote Pitchfork reviewer Rob Mitchum. “So many ways for it to go wrong, but instead it's a unique, catchy and lovably weird record.”)

Now the band is taking their show on the road…which means finding a new choir in every city, and recruiting opening acts to perform in a Halloween-themed talent show. It’s certainly a huge undertaking, but Gosling and Shields have their heads in the game. I caught up with the co-creators to talk shop…and what fans can expect when DMB roll into their towns.

"The room where you sleep"

Phrequency: I read that you guys originally set out to make a spooky musical, but then ended up with Dead Man’s Bones instead. What was the writing process like?

Ryan Gosling: We’re big quitters. We give up easy. So we decided if we ever actually wanted to do anything, we needed to set the bar high. So we imagined the most elaborate musical ever and when that didn’t work, we ended up with a band and that was ok. It kind of whittled its way down to this. And this is something pretty manageable.

In the beginning, we had this idea for a show in the style of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly from beyond the grave, and we were thinking tap-dancing and playing instruments and we realized that it would cost close to 100 million dollars and no one would ever invest in it. So we were left with the fact that we had learned to play these instruments and learned these songs.

P: You had never played instruments before this project…and yet you look like pros in the video for “In the room where you sleep.” How did you learn so quickly?

Zach Shields: If we did learn quickly, it was because we had to. We all of a sudden were trying to make a record, and we had to learn to play drums and guitar and whatever. Prior to recording the record, we had both starting learning the guitar, for a year and a half, when we were developing the idea. Ryan actually played the cello on this record. It sounds ridiculous, but it worked. We wanted a cello, so Ryan learned to play cello. Or we’d say we want an accordion, so we’d get an accordion and figure out the sounds we wanted it to make and try to do it in time.

photo: hama sanders

P: What was it like working with the Silverlake Conservatory children’s choir? Did the kids have any impact on the creative process or were they mostly there just to sing their parts? How did you come to choose them?

RG: They’re kinda the stars of it, we hope. We kinda wanted to be the orchestra and the narrators, but they would be the characters in the story. So they’re playing a really big part in it. Working with them, as you can imagine, it’s the best. There’s just so much energy, and we’re all in the same place musically—just starting out—so it was a very relaxed way of working.

At first we thought it would be a little weird with them—we had had a problem with other choirs in the sense that our music was too dark for kids, or not Christian enough or morbid or something like that, so it took a while to find a match, and find a choir who would take to the music and really understand it. But we found kindred spirits in this choir and their director.

ZS: The whole school and all the kids…they have a whole conservatory and they just welcomed us into it in a big way. Ryan and I both take music lessons there now, and we do videos with the kids. We know their parents. We spend time with them now. It was such an intimate thing making the record. We were very protective of it, and they were projective of it too, and a friendship developed between us.

P: How are you choosing choirs in other cities? It seems like a huge undertaking to teach all these kids—how do you find the time to do this?

RG: We don’t know! Hopefully we do it well.

ZS: We have the choirs chosen already. We sent them the cds…

RG: [interrupting] We hope they show up!

ZS: We haven’t played that much. We just did this residency at the Bob Baker Marionette Theater, and it’s been an amazing experience, but it’s also the first time we played a show, as a band. And the idea of going on tour, and getting new choirs, and creating a set, and lighting and all that…it’s sort of overwhelming.

We want people to know: it’s not a big production we’re putting on …it’s more like a middle school play we’re putting up, not elaborate stuff. It’s big for US. But it’s not a big production. People will be disappointed if they’re expecting some sort of grand theatrical production. But it’s a big undertaking. The idea of working with all these choirs…we’re kinda scared. We’re terrified. Can I be honest with you? We’re terrified.

RG: We heard it described somewhere as some sort of large extravaganza with a battle of Indians at the beginning…and all this lofty language; it’s just not true! We made the set together. We hand-painted the set. It’s not like Cirque du Soleil. If people come expecting the circus, they will be let down.




P: Tell me about this talent show idea you’re doing for opening acts. What has the response been like so far?

ZS: It’s been great the way people have been sending in their talents, which is a really generous thing.

When we came about the idea, we were talking about different opening acts that would be fun for us to play with…it never involved a band; it was always a magician or a juggler or a dance troupe or kids’ orchestra or something…and we realized it would be pretty difficult to organize these acts in every city—it was hard enough to organize the choirs!—so we came up with the idea of a talent show, which seemed like a better idea anyway. That way if anyone has a unique ability or talent or something they think is special, it opens the door for those people. Like a person who knits food. [He laughs].

RG: We have yet to find her, but one day!

ZS: Hopefully we see something we haven’t seen yet! A fun part for us would be as we travel the country, we see what’s unique about people from all different cities.

P: Your show in Philly is being performed in a church. Did you pick the venue specifically for this reason?

RG: We wanted to play unique shows. We’re actually particularly excited about the Philly show—I think it’s one of the most interesting venues we’ve found.

P: I know a lot of people are skeptical when actors release albums—have you had any trouble getting people to take you seriously?

RG: We have trouble getting ourselves to take ourselves seriously! No, but that stuff is totally understandable, and we’re not trying to argue; we understand people will be skeptical.

Outside of that whole issue, the music we’re making is so specific to what WE like, and our bizarre interests…we didn’t think anyone would like it, period. We were prepared for it.

P: Ryan, years ago, you were in an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark. Have you always had an interest in spooky things?

RG: [laughs] Well, I did that for the money. But both Zach and I have always had an interest in the supernatural. My parents moved from our childhood home because we thought it was haunted and when Zach was a child, he had to go to therapy because he was so obsessed with ghosts.

According to this website, here's Gosling in AYAOTD. I'm skeptical.

P: So what’s next for you guys?

ZS: We’ve been making a lot of music videos, and other video projects. We made one with this guy Arthur Ganson, a kinetic sculptor. He let us use one of his sculptures in our video. It was kind of funny actually…we called the number listed on his website, and it turned out to be his cell phone number, and we called him and he was like “I’m about to go into yoga right now, I’ll call you back.” And then he was just so totally rad and all his pieces were in museums except for one piece that we wanted to use, which was at his mother’s house, on her mantle. So he shipped it to us. We’re actually finishing the video tonight. We’re excited to show it to people.

P: We’re excited to see it!

Catch Dead Man’s Bones this Friday, October 16, at the First Unitarian Church.

When pom-poms attack...

I'm on an animation kick these days, so before it dies down: here's another sweet vid, from spacey electric pop trio Finn Riggins, who might be best thing to come out of Idaho in years (possible exceptions being Doug Martsh and Josh Ritter. Who knew, right?)

Supposedly, these guys really kill live too -- too bad their 245 days per year of touring (or so their Myspace claims!) does not allow for a trip to East Coast!

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Middle Distance Runner are eaten by a piano (and other tricks)

If I were to join a track team (only slightly more plausible than me joining a football or wrestling team), I suppose I'd be a Middle Distance Runner. My petite legs would be of no help in a sprint, and god knows I don't have the stamina to run farther than a mile (especially for "fun").

Whether or not this same logic propelled DC's Middle Distance Runner, I'll never know. What I DO know is that these guys write the sort of unpretentious pop perfect for a midweek pick-me-up, from boisterous garage-y jams to rolling radio-friendly rock tunes.

They're also, it seems, quite skilled with claymation:

MDR's sophomore album, The Sun and Earth, drops October 20 -- they play the M Room the 18th. No creepy priest dudes with monster books allowed.

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Webisodes: Short Story Part 44

Tuesday evening, Thomas Sandleby returned home from his meeting with Bree Dawson with a heavy heart.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Rachel, upon his entrance. She was curled up on the couch reading a magazine, and schooched over so Thom could sit.

"Oh, you know," he replied, looking at the ground. "Just broke up with Bree. Found out she kissed Jesse 2 nights ago."

Rachel closed her magazine and set it on the coffee table.

"Oh Thom, I'm sorry," she said, rotating her body towards him. She tucked her legs underneath herself and rested her head on his shoulder. Thom felt a jolt of electricity rocket through his body. There was something so familiar about this pose...Rachel and him used to sit this way all the time, years ago, back when they were living together.

Thom shivered slightly, and moved away -- Rachel raised her eyebrows, and neither of them said anything.

The past 4 days living together had been filled with awkward encounters: Rachel trying to hide her heartbreak and tears from Thom; Thom trying to give her space.

But now here they were on the couch, both of them feeling vulnerable, and for a second, something seemed to pass between them. There was no doubt the pair had chemistry--after all, they had dated for several years. And now, in their moment of heartbreak, both longed so bad for something familiar...

"Come here Thom," said Rachel, opening her arms and engulfing her ex-boyfriend in a giant hug. They held each other for a moment and Thom resisted the urge to kiss her on the cheek.

Rachel was never the right girl for me, he thought. And Bree isn't either. But there's no deadline on love. My shot won't expire

He flashed Rachel a big smile. She smiled back.

"So, I'm thinking of ordering a pizza," said Thom, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. "You hungry?"

"My shot at love won't expire"...unlike all these fools on Tila Tequila,
whose shots are expiring as directed by MTV.

Wednesday afternoon, the opening band scheduled to play at the Sandlot that evening dropped, and so Jesse Milkovich called up Bree Dawson and asked if Menstrual Mustache could fill in.

Bree agreed, and around 6:30 -- an hour and a half before they were scheduled to go on--she flitted around the bar excitedly, sipping a whiskey sour and dancing around Jesse.

"Well I'm glad to see someone's in a good mood," remarked Jesse snarkily, hand-writing names from his laptop screen on to the guest list. "I've never seen anyone look so happy about breaking up with a boyfriend!"

Bree gave him a stern look--as in, that was mucho inapproprio--and then decided to ignore his antics and change the subject.

"So. Jesse," she began, filled with anxious energy.

"Yes?" replied Jesse.

"You ever find out if Lulu was the girl from that article? Crazy insane smuggler woman or whatever?" Bree was eager to know, but tried to play it off as nonchalant.

Jesse shook his head. "No, that wasn't Lulu," he responded, not looking up from his paper. "I did mention it to her though, and she got pretty offended. Not that I blame her." He looked away.

"So you moving back to California then?" asked Bree. She stared straight at him, wide eyes shimmering.

Jesse laughed, jotted down another name, and met her gaze. "Nah," he said, pursing his lips together. "I don't think I'm moving back to California." He took her hands, gingerly. "I think I'm already home."

"I'm already home." Brooklyn.

Thursday morning, 6 days after she had arrived at the hospital, Sazz Tuttle was released. A nurse wheeled her out the door in a wheelchair, into a waiting van. Harris's blow to the head had caused Sazz moderate spinal cord damage, and she had been diagnosed with incomplete Brown-Séquard syndrome, which meant slight paralysis on the left side of her body, and loss of sensation on the right. It was a depressing verdict, but doctors said she was lucky to be alive. 6-8 months of physical therapy, they ordered -- and she might even be able to walk again.

"You're a fighter," the doctor had told her, delivering the news. "I can sense it."

Now, Sazz was headed to rehabilitation center, where the hard work would begin.

Just think positive thoughts, she told herself. As defeated and weak as she felt, Sazz knew she owed it to herself to push through. Her life before the accident had been drab and unfulfilling--perhaps the time off would finally give her a chance to re-evaluate, and decide what she wanted to do with her life. Maybe it's time for a little spiritual growth as well.

"Good luck Sharauna," said the nurse, locking her wheelchair into the floor, and slamming shut the door. "You can do it!" she yelled through the window.

And Sazz Tuttle blinked back tears as the vehicle drove off.

Staring over. Sedona, AZ.

Thursday evening, 7 o'clock. Marilyn Morrissey and Josh Stadt sat in Josh's apartment, eating Chinese food and reliving Menstrual Mustache's successful performance at the Sandlot the night before.

"It was totally epic," remarked Josh, stuffing with face with eggplant and plum sauce. "But what's going to happen when Bree joins that reality TV show? You guys still gonna play shows?"

Marilyn nodded. "Yeah, we'll still play shows," she said. "Bree's just a correspondence expert or something so she doesn't have to live in some house Real World-style or anything. Thank god." She paused. "Hopefully we get to play a show on TV!"

"That would be killer," said Josh. He wiped his face. "Speaking of which, did I tell you that Fraggle is returning to the big screen as well?"

Marilyn raised her eyebrows quizzically, and Josh continued.

"Well, not really," he said. "But we did find this sweet director to do our next music video with. You remember that song I wrote for Marcus, "Marcus is the Blarkness?" He's actually psyched about it. Turns out he fucking loves that tune." Josh smiled, pretending to jam out on his chopstick.

"Awesome," replied Marilyn, jokingly. "I think you should do that move in the video!"

"Oh yeah?" replied Josh. He speared a baby corn from her vegetable dish and launched it at her, projectile-style. "Take that!"

"Hey!" screamed Marilyn. She dipped her fingers in the plum sauce and smeared it across Josh's face. "You wanna play dirty?" asked Marilyn. "Bring it on!"

"Oh, it is ON!" yelled Josh, jumping up on his chair, pounding on his chest, warrior-style. "Marilyn Morrissey, you are toast!"

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This officially concludes the first edition of Webisodes. To read the entire thing, click here.

Escape to the Islands

Islands is the brainchild of Nick Thornburn and Jamie Thompson (formerly of the Unicorns) who write breezy, sunshine-y, psychedelic pop songs, perfect for kicking back, maybe sipping a pina colada or mai tai while grass skirt-clad bikini women dance about you (or not.) They've released 3 albums since forming in 2005, the most recent of which is Vapours, a bouncy, synth-tastic romp filled with lush, poppy melodies that never have to try too hard.

Since Islands apparently never have photo shoots on actual islands,
I've taken the liberty of photoshopping them into this tropical paradise.
You can't even tell the difference, right?

From opener "Switched on" (swirling harmonies, Afro-pop beats) to the very Ted Leo-esque "EOL" (in fact, MUCH of this album reminds me of Ted Leo), the whole thing is totally kick ass -- "Disarming the car bomb" mixes bouncy bass lines with exuberant vocals -- while "No you don't" is just a little dark and funky and might be my favorite song on the whole thing.

Here's a live performance on the title track:

The past couple of years have been tough for Islands, with massive line-up changes, and a sophomore album that Pitchfork called "bloated." But now Islands are back in their place in the sun...making Vapours the perfect album to relive those sunny summer moments.

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And now, some photos of Os Mutantes

Brazilian tropicalia gods Os Mutantes played the World Cafe Monday night -- their first Philly performance ever. And because I'm a dork (with a deep-seated love of tropicalia), you-know-who was front in center, snapping photos as they dazzled and amazed.

all photos (c) Kate Bracaglia. Click any image to enlarge.

Want more Os Mutantes coverage? Check out my review here -- as well as more photos from virtuouso Inna S.

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