Friday, March 18, 2005

Austin Day Two: 'Something Terrible Is Happening'
(Sorry for the infrequency of these. Time is proving more limited than expected)

On our way downtown this afternoon we passed an ambulance and a fire truck. Paramedics were pulling a lifeless man out of a car. Eventually we'll figure out something to say about that.

A block away the Stars were playing a 2pm set where Sleater-Kinner finished up last night. Torq had them cast as angels in the house of Satan and He Lied About Death was scary ferocious. And it was Mr. Campbell's birthday. So afterwards there was cake. Someone set some candles on fire. And sang the song. Chuck Klosterman was there (a quick daylight check of his festival badge confirming as much).

We opted for Mexican. Brody Dalle was a couple tables over. By herself. Then it was back to where we were for a few songs for a bit of Tegan & Sara. They still don't set our pants on fire. Despite plenty of fuel.

Spent the rest of the afternoon hanging at Liss' swank hotel suite (this just in: alt. weekly writers secretly heart capitalism). Watched a little Dogs With Jobs. Hung out in the lobby with (near?) Fatboy Slim. Then Liss went to chew on some lettuce, so we went wandering.

Nothing much of anything happened in the early evening. The Appreciation were shirtless and wet. Thunderbird Are Now! were fast and sloppy. Then we stood in line for an hour to see the Futureheads play three or four songs. Hot Hot Heat followed. So anxious to impress.

At some point we mentioned to Josh O. that we saw Brady Dalle eating alone. This reminded him that he had a pass to some afterparty action featuring Queens of the Stone Age. So after four or five HHH songs (and 732 hooks), we went looking for trouble.

Queens were playing at some airport hangar outside Austin. Party sponsored by some designer jean company. There was a guy there in a white fur coat. So you can fill in the blanks yourself. The Cure Bravery were up first. Then Queens came on and schooled the place for an hour and a half. Diplo was up next. But by then our legs were having none of it. So there would be no dancing.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Day One In Austin: Chuck Klosterman (or at least Chuck Klosterman's cleverly disguised doppleganger) Is Stalking Us
The first real, non-airport Texan we met was a cab driver. He'd installed a TV (with a DVD player) in between the front seats. He was watching Jerry Springer.

So we missed a flight. Lost some luggage. And barely escaped the sort of hotel that normally requires either a hooker or a heroin addiction. Then we took a nap.

Eventually we woke up and went outside. Saw Billy Idol limping through a hotel lobby. Had dinner with Martha Wainwright at the sort of place that would make our vegetarian friends throw up in their mouth. And then it was off to Smoosh. Or Smush. Or something. They're not yet in high school. Everyone in attendance kept exchanging those smiles normally reserved for parents at awkard school assemblies where overly precocious kids say overly precocious things they aren't quite precocious enough to understand.

Then we saw The Thermals. They are so not remarkable and so remarkable all at the same time. Somebody could make lots of money off them if they really wanted to.

Anyway. At the Sub Pop showcase we saw Chuck Klosterman (or at least Chuck Klosterman's cleverly disguised doppelganger). He was in line for the portapotty. And thinking about Saved By The Bell.

The Album Leaf were on next. We took a nap. Woke up just in time for Sleater-Kinney.

Klosterman (or at least Klosterman's cleverly disguised doppelganger) was still there. Watching intently. And thinking about Saved By The Bell.

Finished up our night standing beside a woman in a pink bunny costume.

Epilogue: Our body having finally processed the two pounds of meat ingested in front of Miss Wainwright, we went to get some pizza. At the counter, Klosterman (or at least Klosterman's cleverly disguised doppelganger) showed up. Bought a slice of pepperoni. Thought about Saved By The Bell.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Alright Already
So. Like we said, we're packing our bags again. But this time we're not going to disappear.

In less than five hours we board a jet plane bound for here. Why? Well to get a little of this action.

You are correct sir. PopWherry is doing SXSW. For serious. We wouldn't kid about such things.

At the expense of sleep, we plans on blogging our adventures. Probably not quite hourly. But, at the very least, daily. We'd tell you what we were going to see, but frankly we haven't a clue yet. Except that we hear Feist will be there. Somewhere. Maybe tomorrow afternoon.

Other cool people will be there too. Like Chromewaves. And Newman. And Berman. If you're cool and you'll be there, drop us a line.

Otherwise, we'll be wherever someone cooler than us tells us to be. Then we'll come here and tell you all about it. Promise.
Side Project
When we're not here blogging about where we'll be (we're getting there, be patient), we'll be here, adding to this. Fun is promised.
Ultimate Sexual Pleasure
We were going to warn you about this. Kinda forgot. Sorry.
Why Yes, I Would Like A Free CD
Before we went to Flint, we saw some bands. Actually we saw the future of rock n' roll. It is the Ladies and Gentlemen. Unless it's the Lovely Feathers. Seriously. Enjoy:

The Lovely Feathers - Fudgicle
The Ladies and Gentlemen - Stay

(All credit/blame goes to Miss Liss.)
Bird's Back
We have this dirty little secret. Sometimes we write about sports. (Look away! Look away! We're hideous!) This is good for two reasons. One, we get to see a lot of men in various forms of undress. And two, we get to go exotic locales such as Flint. And see stuff like this.

Flint is the least pretentious place on earth. There's a radio station there called Cars 108FM. We were really hoping it played only Cars. Or, better yet, only cars. But apparently they're really into Faith Hill. They're rocking some Snake though.

Anyway. We got back yesterday. And now we're leaving again. Where you ask? Well, give us a couple posts and we'll tell you.

Sunday, March 6, 2005

Fab Freddy And The You Things
Such silence. Our apologies. We've just been making plans. Not necessarily big plans, but plans. We'll be hitting the road soon. Not leaving. Just going places. And, hopefully, blogging from those places. Full details soonish. In the meantime, if anyone knows of any good used record stories in Flint, holla.

Before we go, we have a few things to get to. One of them being this.

A question to be put forward: What if you were told Miss Apple was unhappy about these leaks? What if the artist that was supposedly being liberated didn't want to be liberated? At least this way.

Tuesday, March 1, 2005

Love Zero
This is so heinous.

(Various bounts of emphasis ours.)



Island Outpost Announces Exclusive "One Love" Vacation Package in Celebration of Bob Marley's 60th Birthday

JAMAICA (March 1, 2005) Bob Marley preached peace and justice through his profound music. The gentle Rastafarian brought reggae to the world, before his untimely death in 1981. On the 60th anniversary of his birth, Island Outpost celebrates this legendary man with its One Love package, which offers reggae fans and music lovers the chance to experience Marley's life up close and personal, while experiencing the funk and sexy sophistication of the island's most hip retreats.

Record mogul and Island Records founder Chris Blackwell is well known in music circles for launching the career of Bob Marley, U2, among others. Jet set A-listers and travel buffs also know him as founder of Island Outpost, a chain of boutique locales offering accommodations with an offbeat, tropical charm.

"It's all about the spirit. Sensibility. And Heart. Like Island Records, Island Outpost is about a feeling. The rush of discovery. The bliss of authenticity," said Blackwell. "This is a chance to encapsulate the life of Bob Marley and share the vibe with travelers the world over."

Guests that book five nights or more in any one or combination of the four Jamaican properties will receive one iPod Shuffle per booking and customized tours as follows:

Guided Tour of the Bob Marley Museum at 56 Hope Road, Studio One, and Trench Town.

The museum, once Bob's home, still shares its grounds with the Tuff Gong studio, where the reggae superstar recorded most of his masterpieces. Then trace his inspiration in Trench Town, a housing scheme that replaced the area's squatter camps and became ground zero of the Rastafarian movement.

Bob Marley recuperated at Strawberry Hill after being shot. And U2 ducked out of the limelight at this retreat. The musicians chose wisely: this serene aerie is so stunning that Conde Nast Traveler declared that the "location 3,000 feet up the Blue Mountains beggars description."

Twelve airy cottages, designed by Ann Hodges, cluster beside the Caribbean's only Aveda Concept Spa, located at the resort. Wood-shingled and gracious, the architecture reflects the original nineteenth-century buildings that once stood here with cooling louvers, ceiling fans, fretwork and gables. Hammocks and rockers stand on the verandahs. Hardwood floors and mahogany furniture handcrafted on the premises complete the genteel ambiance. Rates from $325 per room, per night for a one bedroom cottage to $775 for the ultimate Mountain View category. Rates are based on single or double occupancy.

Guided Tour to Nine Miles, including a visit to the Peter Tosh Monument.

Make a pilgrimage to Nine Miles, Marley's birthplace and the site of his humble, but dignified, grave: a white mausoleum surrounded by a red, green and yellow fence. Next, drive down Jamaica's beautiful southwestern coast to the fishing village of Belmond, hometown of Wailer's founding member Peter Tosh.

Guests and locals mingle cheerfully at Jake's, a 29-room bohemian resort, set on six acres of land. Dramatic cottages commune with the garden, sea and sky, near a secluded fishing village.

The bohemian atmosphere comes as no surprise: Jake's is run by the Henzell family, also responsible for Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come, the hippest Caribbean film of all time. Sally, its set designer, unfurled her talents here: wild purples, pinks, yellows and terracottas brighten the landscape. Moroccan domes and arches bloom. Decks skim the waves. Shells, beads and colored glass glitter brightly from walls. As travel writing legend Tim Cahill pointed out in Islands magazine, "just about everything is funky." Rates from $115 per night for a one-bedroom garden view room to $395 for the sinful, 800 square foot Octopussy Suite, which puts you beachfront. Rates are based on double occupancy.

Guided Tour of ReggaeXplosion, an audio visual museum dedicated to the history of Reggae Music or a trip to Nine Miles

The island's musical story unfolds in multimedia exhibits at this groundbreaking Jamaican museum at Island Village in Ocho Rios. Ska, mento, roots, rock, reggae, dubmasters, DJs, dancehall and key artists all merit attention. Special sections highlight Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer.

Be shaken not stirred by the splendor of James Bond's birthplace. Dashing 007 originated at this 15-acre seaside hideaway, which blossomed around the home of Ian Fleming, who wrote 13 spy novels here. The author delighted in the landscape's richness and praised "the blazing sunshine, natural beauty and the most healthy life I could live."

Today, Fleming's retreat is a boutique resort laced with beaches, tropical forest, caves and secluded nooks. Intimate and informal, this idyll four villas on a sea bluff, one overlooking a cove attracts celebrities and other lovers of luxury. Rates from $895 per room, per night for a two-bedroom villa to $3,600 to live like James Bond in the Ian Fleming villa (sleeps six). Rates are based on double occupancy.

Night of Live Reggae in Negril.

Musicians groove everywhere in Negril: on the beaches and cliffs, not to mention the cafes and clubs. Experience the soulful Caribbean rhythms in the cradle of reggae.

At the Caves, the volcanic cliff is honeycombed with grottoes: one strewn with flowers and candlelit for intimate dining, another harboring a bubbling hot tub, some are just portals into the crystal-clear sea below, populated by dolphins, parrot fish and sea turtles. Ten hand-crafted cottages nestle into this verdant landscape, crowned by a petite Aveda spa.

Small wonder The Caves was named the best hotel in the Caribbean by Trip Advisor, a leading travel search site. The exclusive magazine Robb Report also celebrated this resort among the "World's 10 Great Escapes" in March 2004: "Outside, turquoise water laps languidly against rocky cliffs, recalling the Caribbean before high tech hotels vanquished the landscape and personal watercraft disturbed the calm." Rates from $575 per room, per night for a one bedroom suite to $925 for a deluxe two bedroom. Rates are based on single or double occupancy and include all meals and beverages.

This offer will expire on December 31, 2005 and is subject to availability and availability of room categories. The tour package (not including the iPod Shuffle) is available for less than five night stays with an additional premium. Please contact Island Outpost for further details.

About Island Outpost:
Island Outpost is a collection of distinct small hotels, located in Jamaica and The Bahamas. Created by Chris Blackwell, founder of Island Records and Palm Pictures, Island Outpost creates environments reminiscent of staying at a good friend's home.
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