Apologies for being MIA this past week; kept sitting down to write something, then kept getting distracted. But hey, I've got my reasons, chief among them the long-awaited official launch of ShockHound, including an extra-special and spooky Halloween episode of Taco Tuesday. Interviewed several bands for the site this week, including really cool British psych-rockers The Duke Spirit (like probably everyone who meets her, I've now got quite the crush on lead singer Leila Moss), unbelievably foul-mouthed pop idols The All-American Rejects (who may have set a world record for most jizz-related jokes in a twenty-minute interview) and charming French electronica giants Justice, whose upcoming tour documentary/travelogue A Cross The Universe looks like what U2: Rattle and Hum could have been if only Bono's boys had filmed it in color and placed a decided visual and thematic emphasis on boobs and guns. My conversations with all of the above should be up on the site soon...
Managed to steer clear of all the L.A./Hollywood Halloween insanity last night. The Justice interview took place at their hotel in LIttle Tokyo, so my ShockHound crew mates Bryan and Katherine and I were able to chill out with some sushi and Sapporo afterwards at East Japanese Restaurant, where the food was fresh and inexpensive, the beer was cold, and they had some mellow '50s West Coast-style jazz on the stereo. The only Halloween action we saw was the occasional really cute little Asian kid dressed up as a pony, tiger or fairy princess trick-or-treating door-to-door at the various restaurants. Katherine snapped the above shot of me in my "Casual Satan" get-up, which I'd worn all day, including during the interview. The Justice guys didn't bat an eye about it, but their tour manager Bouchon was quite amused; he kept pointing at my horns and saying, "I zink zose are not getting better. You should zee a dok-tor."
Other shit that went down this past week: Some teams apparently played in the World Series, and one of them won it amidst a total clusterfuck of late starts, shitty weather and FOX trying to hurry things along so they could get back to their regular programming, since only about three people outside of Philadelphia or Florida were actually watching the damn thing. And in the grand blog tradition, I have no answers or suggestions, just a complaint: There hasn't been a World Series worth watching since 2004 — and even that one was only worth watching because the Red Sox hadn't gone all the way since the Wilson Administration; you'd have to go back to 2002 to find a World Series with the drama, tension and excitement worthy of the name. And it's especially a stone drag to cap an exciting season like 2008's with a dull and dreary mire of rain delays and unfunny Frank Caliendo commercials. (Yes, I realize that the last part of that sentence was redundant in the extreme.)
Also very sad to hear about writer and oral historian Studs Terkel dying. I never met him, even though he was part of my asshole ex-stepfather's circle of Windy City writer friends, but you couldn't grow up in Chicago over the last half-century without feeling like you knew Studs Terkel. A true populist and unrepentant FDR-era liberal, Studs famously opined that he "never met a picket line or petition I didn't like." Really sorry he couldn't live to see Obama get elected — although, as my friend Tom says, I sure hope this isn't some kind of bad omen. Ditto for the small, sweet, beautiful, and very dead brown finch I found outside my back door last night when I went to take out the garbage. It was in perfect shape, not a ruffled feather anywhere to be seen; no idea how it got there, or what had happened to it. My cats were clamoring to get out and play with it, but I gently removed it from the scene before they could go too crazy...
Anyway, that's the scoop. Flying to New York next weekend for the first of several ShockHound launch parties; this one takes place on Sunday, November 9 at Santos Party House in the Chinatown/Tribeca area, with live sets from indie faves No Age and Titus Andronicus. (Several co-workers and I keep inadvertently referring to the latter band as "Titus Androgynous" — not because they are, particularly, but because it would have been a way better band name.) Tickets are free, and (I think) still available; if you're going to be in NYC that night, and feel like comin' down to raise a celebratory glass with me, reserve yerself a pair of passes here.
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