octoberxswimmer

SXSW wiped me out. I'm here in my childhood bedroom nursing a cold/flu/sinus infection. I've got a pile of used tissues on my nightstand, a glass of room temperature water, a blueberry coffee from Dunkin Donuts, a half-empty bottle of cough syrup leftover from a winter's cough, a bottle of a Target-brand Benadryl, a Rite Aid brand of Sudafed and cup of organic green tea and ginger. Liquids galore and pills to look forward to swallow. I'm going with pharmaceuticals this time around. I usually go with the holistic route in combating an illness but that's less fun and I'm on vacation and I'm looking for an amusement park full of highs and lows and spinning spin spin spin. The Sudafed is keeping me awake and the cough syrup is making me feel drunk. It's 75 degrees in New York right now and I have only watched the sun rise and fall from my window. The worst symptom I have is my ears. It feels like there is three feet of water moving around in my eardrums. To borrow a lyric from Nada Surf I feel "spacier than an astronaut." On the plane home from Austin, I was in excruciating pain. No matter how big I yawned or how many swigs of Vitamin Water I swallowed I could not "pop" my ears. The cabin pressure in the plane was unbearable. It would wake me up from a deep sleep against the windowpane. I was on the verge of tears, looking around at my fellow passengers to see if they were having the same problem. Nope. Everyone looked sound and peaceful. Either sleeping or reading their bestsellers. I thought I was going crazy. I imagined myself pushing the button above me to hail down a stewardess. I imagined a full-fledged panic attack. Telling them I was dying and that my ears were going to burst and start bleeding profusely. I imagined telling them they needed to make an emergency landing. I imagined scaring all of my fellow passengers and becoming "that" person. I thought there was something wrong. I stifled the urge to make a scene and quietly sat in pain, squirming and fidgeting. I think the gentleman next to me started to take notice and I tried not to react physically. He was a gentleman in his mid 30s who had Patrick Bateman hair. I think he wanted to strike up a conversation but I pretended to sleep because I knew I wasn't capable of conversing in any manner. Once we landed I googled my symptoms and thankfully discovered I'm not the only one who has experienced this kind of pain. It's been two days and my ears are still clogged. I've always had a fear of going deaf. Being an avid music lover, I feel as if my ears have been subjected to a lot of noise. Punk shows on Long Island standing near the speakers because I couldn't mosh my way to the front of the stage. All those hours I spend with headphones and earbuds on. Punk rock. Electronic snyths. Those hardcore and ska bands from the back in the day. Those summer drives blasting records with the windows rolled down and sing-a-longs with best friends, driving over bridges to get to the beaches. Concert after concert. Show after show. My ears have been through everything. I never remember to bring my earplugs. While walking around Austin I was telling The Boy about my fear of going deaf. While walking to a donut trailer, we walked past a school with all these kids outside making out on cement stairs and curbs. He thought it was a college. I said they were too young for college. We walk past the entrance and it's a school for the deaf. It's a sign. A sign I will lose my hearing soon enough. I asked him if he would still date me if I were deaf and he tried to console me by saying yes but I have my doubts. It's been two days since that flight of excruciating pain and I still feel like I have an entire ocean crashing on the shores between my ears. My equilibrium is off and I can hear myself talking, chewing and breathing. I can hear myself do everything. I feel claustrophobic. I'm trapped in my own head more than I ever been trapped before. Forget self-consciousness. I'm a cloud of a person just hovering through the day, mingling with regular folks with regular eardrums. I think I have incorporated the physical embodiment of selfishness. Self-absorbed. Self-centered. It's unbearable. It's frightening and I'm dreading to make an appointment with my doctor. She'll belittle my symptoms and then I'll lose my hearing all together. Not to mention sitting in the waiting room for hours so she can inform me that nothing is wrong and won't even write me a prescription for anything because she doesn't like medicating without purpose. Don't get me wrong I love my doctor for just those reasons, but sometimes I want a diagnosis and a cure. I already imagine the conversation we will have. The last time we spoke we were talking about dating sites. I recommended OkCupid. I wonder if she followed up on my recommendation. She's the female version of an Italian Stallion and she's a doctor! That's a catch and a half if you ask me.

EDIT: ACCORDING TO BROOKLYN VEGAN'S TWITTER THERE WAS A SXSW FLU GOING AROUND.

So here I am losing my hearing but still listening to music. You never know these might be the last songs I'll ever hear for the rest of my life. Maybe South by Southwest will be the last music festival I'll ever attend. So, in the next few paragraphs I'm going to try and capture my experience in Austin, Texas. It will be a difficult feat because all of the days blurred into one very long day and night. I had a tentative schedule but I didn't follow it as well as I thought I would. I was badgeless and broke and I wandered the streets of Austin, walking for miles at times to get to venues, bars, and movie theaters. It was hot, sunny, gloomy and overcast. The wind was my enemy messing up my hair with every gust. I wore a baseball cap half of the time I was in Austin because I couldn't keep my hair from becoming a bird's nest. Broke out the short shorts, the sunglasses and the sunblock on this trip. I kept myself hydrated and didn't drink as much booze as I thought I would, despite free beer being offered all around.





I thought my iPhone was charging while I jumped in the shower and waited for G to pick me up to drive me to JFK. I was wrong. The plug was not pushed into the electrical socket. My new Twin Peaks iPhone case came in the mail that same day and I was obsessed with it. I packed just the night before. Drawing lines through my very detailed "Things to Pack" list. I was too busy preparing for my court date the week before I was leaving for SXSW. It was a trial and the jury ruled in my favor. Church pews, plaintiffs and the creepy dude who smokes cigars who is suing me for his own stupidity. My lawyer seems Jewish and he has a neurotic ramble when he talks. His opening statement was endearing but I felt as if his demeanor is much more geek than personable. But he pulled through as the jury was on my side. I had to speak into a microphone and get cross-examined by a lawyer than seemed more of a hack than an actual lawyer. He was obese and his stomach hung below his suit pants and belt. The guy suing me tried to make small talk with me and I didn't want any of it. Creep. So, G picks me up in her Honda Fit and she has a Frank and Penelope with her. Penelope (a dog) and I had a few cute moments in the backseat. G finally got an iPhone charger for her car so I was able to charge on the way to the airport. I'm running on fumes at this point because I couldn't sleep the night before. She hands me a Klonopin for the plane ride and I pocket it. I give Penelope a good bye rub and I'm out of the car with luggage in tow. I smoke my last cigarette for a few hours. There's a boy smoking also, sitting on his luggage and he keeps looking back at me. A girl with an iPad is reading and smoking on the curb and I can almost hear her long fingernails hitting the screen of the iPad with every tap. I check my bag despite having to pay because I didn't pack my liquids properly. I didn't want my Dolce & Gabanna or Kiehl's to be thrown away. I'm super early with a dying iPhone and a laptop even closer to death. I have a connecting flight to Atlanta and there was a very large black lady sitting next to me on the plane. She was very nice but super aware of anything and everything I did. I loved the interaction she had with the very white lady next to her on the aisle. The white lady wasn't having it. Coach: where all walks of life mingle. Just like the post office or bank. These are where the best interactions happen. I'm walking around the Atlanta airport and I keep getting weird looks from everyone. I shouldn't have dressed like a goth kid today. I mean there's even a coffin on my tee shirt.

I finally touch down in Austin. My best friend Alex from Seattle is texting me telling me he's leaving the festival early because he's super sick. I'm upset and shrug it off. Jared is on his way. He borrowed his friend's car to greet me at the airport because I feigned fear of getting lost trying to find the bus. My bag is one of the first pieces of luggage to get off the plane and I smoke my first cigarette in Texas. A boy named Carlos bums one from me and we start chatting about living in New York. He wants to hail a cab with me but I told him my friend was picking me up. He was adorable and super nice and we parted ways wishing each other a good time at SXSW. I call Jared and he's trying to explain where he is and I'm not following. I'm looking for a car, not a gentleman. He's walking towards me and confesses he thought the 'mo that just walked past me was me. I really hope I don't walk like that. We hug and it feels good. It feels familiar. I haven't seen him in years. He's wearing all black as well and I don't feel as goth anymore. He forgot to drop off his friend's bike to her so we have to rush back to Austin proper. He makes a few wrong turns and said we were in the ghetto but it looked super cute to me. I think New Yorkers and Texans have different perceptions of what "ghetto" is. South Lamar Blvd. I will get to know this street very well. We drop off my bags and stuff at his apartment and head downtown. His apartment is cute with wooden antlers and an empty refrigerator. We park in the parking garage of his job and find his friends. Things are getting blurry. I meet a girl named Vanessa and I'm immediately smitten. We were listening to her mixtapes in her car. The really slow ones with random Britney songs on it. Austin is insane. There's thousands of people in the streets walking in every direction possible. East 6th is impossible to navigate. Protestors, musicians, goths, punks, hipsters and the like are all over. Music is blaring from every restaurant, bar, venue. Live bands just pouring into the streets. It just sounds like chaos. A harmonious chaos, if that's possible. The Boy is somewhere. Texting me his whereabouts. I'm not sure where I am. But we meet up somehow. He's all over the place. Literally and figuratively. The embrace I was anticipating never came but he's working the festival and he's distracted by obligations and chaperoning record executives who keep getting too drunk on his watch. We end up at a Coyote Ugly. I don't want to drink or I'll fall over in exhaustion. I need caffeine. I think we find some at Halcyon. I made a mistake and ordered a hot coffee instead of an iced one. Oh well. I find a food trailer that has falafel. The cute girl recommended I put feta cheese on it. I never had feta cheese on a falafel and it was amazing. The first bite I take was full of red pepper and I'm dying. I run to the bodega (or Texas's version of a bodega) for some water. The Boy and I go to a hotel to charge his phone. He tells me more about his chaos. I sit on his lap. The embrace I hoped for is found here. I meet up with Jared again. We head home. But we stop at Kerbey Lane first. Our waiter is this dudebro thing going on but it's endearing and awkward. I order migas. The first time I ever had migas was with Jared in Austin four years ago. It seemed appropriate. I flip through a newspaper and Jared gets mad I'm only half-listening to him. After our late night meal we sit down on the ground of the parking lot next to a police car like the goth kids we used to be smoking a cigarette. It's a surreal moment and we hop in his friend's car and get back to the apartment.



We have an early date with Imperial Teen at Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop in the morning. Of course I think they go on at 9am. But I was wrong they went on at 11am. I got confused. They were playing a show for the Seattle radio station KEXP. So there was a two-hour time difference. We order coffee anyway. Yes, there's a coffee shop inside a bike shop. That's Austin for you. The barista is rude and Jared GCB'd her. They have no clue about anything. They brew Stumptown coffee. We walk over to Waterloo Records and 24 Diner for some breakfast. I see a Lana Del Rey poster on the window and realize this will be the closest I'll get to her since she cancelled all her shows at SXSW. They have homemade vegetarian sausage here and I order that. Jared points out that the staff keeps yelling "Corner!" or "Kitchen" every time they walk past and it's all I can hear from that point on. There are two business people talking business at business volume behind Jared and it's driving us a little crazy.





As you can tell Imperial Teen was unreal. I've never seen them perform before. Though, I have seen Will Schwartz perform as Hey Willpower at the (old) Knitting Factory in Manhattan; he danced his face off in a tank-top and high-tops. I felt like I was in some teen movie in the 90s. If you watch the video closely you can see my head bobbing along to every song. The two-hour-wait-turned-getting-breakfast-and-coffee was well worth it. Their between song banter was adorable and it felt strange knowing that their set was being listened to live on the radio in the Pacific Northwest.

Things are getting blurry at this point. We meet up with The Boy and he's in a "mood." Over the course of the week, I'll realize that this "mood" will mutate and evolve into other similar moods that are not fun to be around. We meet him at a Kinko's. I meet a friend of a friend to obtain a badge. The Boy is scratching down a tentative schedule. He can't settle on where he wants to eat. We finally settle on The Jackalope after many other attempts elsewhere. I spot a power strip. We all charge our phones. It's one of TwentyFourBit's showcases happening. A band called Big Deal is on stage and I'm swooning hard. I guess this is what SXSW is all about. Everything becomes a venue. Parking lots, sidewalks, someone's living room, a random restaurant. I try to drink a free coconut water but I can't seem to enjoy coconut water. The Boy asks me if I want anything before he orders. I say an iced tea and he comes back with a soda for himself. Okay. There's a dude that works here that is wearing the shortest jean shorts I have ever seen on a dude. Daisy Dukes if you will and I believe he was straight.



We head to the MTV U Woodie Awards show. I want to see Dev and I do. The Boy takes some awesome pictures of her. She plays all of the hits you would expect her to. There's free food and booze everywhere and I partake in vegetarian burritos and some local beer. Austin is all about their local businesses and I love that they are infiltrated within the festival along with Reese's, Taco Bell and Vitamin Water. We drink sake mixed with Vitamin Water. I'm feeling woozy. It's hot. There are strawberry ice pops that taste exactly like strawberries which kind of weirds me out. I remember the top half of my ice pop fell to the ground and it made me sad. We leave the Woodie event for an unspecified location. We catch Keane playing in some courtyard and I forgot how big Keane got a few years ago. I remember being introduced them in 1997. Oh shucks I'm doing it again. I'm confusing band names. I was doing that all week. I'm confusing Keane with that Swedish band Kent. I was introduced to them by a boy I met off AOL. All week I was confusing Zambri with Kimbra. They are the same person to me and I'm not a fan of either of them. Diamond Ring, Purity Ring, Diamond Rug. The same thing. I can't keep them straight. The Boy hates it and calls me out on it every time. I'm exhausted and need to sit down to recharge not just myself but my phone. SXSW is all about charging cell phones. Everyone is always looking for an electrical outlet. Cell phone batteries always dying. I'm in the RED. 10% battery life. We can't leave until I'm out of the red...We run into V there. She's already on her way to drunk. I'm on my way to narcolepsy from all the sake and beer. Part ways. End up back at the Woodie event again. Facebook informs me that my friend Liz is there. I find a seat on the ground next to a fence. I'm fading fast. I people watch. There are gorgeous boys everywhere. fun. is playing and it's making me feel ill. Everyone else is into it. I dig that "We Are Young" song but everything else is just awful. It's just like my relationship with his other band The Format. I only like that one song. He's kind of douchey up there and I'm not having it. I see my friend Liz and she's wearing one of those headsets. She erased all of my narcolepsy. She's working the event. We talk for as long as she can. I grab some Reese's peanut butter cups. Santigold comes one and she's a force. The Boy actually seems happy for once. I think it's his third time seeing her during the festival. Walk the Moon is playing on the other stage as Santigold gets ready at the stage I'm standing at. I didn't realize I knew most of their catalog and I love it. They have paint smeared all over themselves. A girl is throwing neon bracelets out to the audience and failing miserably. A dude takes over for a bit and he can spread the love. For some reason we're all yearning for some neon. DJ Pauly D is here and he starts spinning behind us in the VIP area. Santigold comes on. Her backup dancers are adorable, jaded in their self-conscious dance moves. Props galore and always in synch. Childish Gambino is supposed to play but he fractured his ankle the day before and had to cancel so Mac Miller replaces him. I'm not a fan. I eat more free food. Meet up DB near some electricity. He spills something on Jared's jacket and awkwardly pulls it off. He has an entire tote bag full of swag. Steve Aoki comes on and it's as ridiculous as you could imagine. There's an inflatable boat and he's in it crowd-surfing. Then not one but two birthday cakes are thrown on the audience. I'm glad I'm a few hundred feet back.



Show is over. We run into some of Jared's friends. They all seem to have dirty blonde hair and a bit wispy. One almost falls into a small ditch on the sidewalk. I'm not enjoying my strawberry ice pop so I throw it on a patch of grass. We're walking over to Rainey Street. This is a weird part of Austin I can't seem to wrap my mind around. Are these houses or are they bars? Are they bars or are they music venues? Grimes is playing Clive. We see if we can get in. Not a chance in all the world according to some bitch working the door. We find an extension cord connected to some electricity and charge our phones. I don't have anything to do until midnight when The Jesus and Mary Chain go on stage at The Belmont. Thanks to Alex I had a VIP bracelet for this venue. We walk over there. There are two lines going in opposite directions beginning at the entrance of The Belmont. I don't know where to go. J figures it out for me. I show my bracelet and I'm immediately in the venue. Sorry kids, I really didn't mean to cut the line. I have to sit through an entire Titus Andronicus set and I want to kill myself. I swear this band haunts my dreams. Why are they everywhere? Why are they opening up for one of the best bands from the 90s? And they are from New Jersey nonetheless. Go away Titus Andronicus! I have access to the VIP lounge area but it seems to be filled with Paste staff and members of The Jesus and Mary Chain and they are pouring orange juice into glasses and I don't want to seem weird in there. So I sit on the floor near the glass windows. I'm exhausted. I talk to the merch guy for a bit. J texts me and tells me he is charging his phone from a tree. I'm really confused by his text. Later on, he explains all of the trees in downtown Austin have "Christmas" lights on them, so there are electrical outlets on each tree to plug them in. J is ridiculously clever in figuring this out and for the rest of my trip we use the trees to keep our phones charged. After Titus Andronicus, I purchase a soda, for only caffeine purposes because I'm beginning to fade again. I make my way outside, to where the stage is and try and find a decent spot. There are so many people out here. I wiggle my way through and light up a smoke. I try not to burn anyone with every drag. There is a group of people in front of me that must be in their 50s. They are such Chatty Cathys and won't stop laughing and talking. There are a group of friends next to me who waited on line for six hours to get into this show. They had no badges. They had no tickets. They had no bracelets. They were so relieved and so happy to be standing just a few hundred feet away from The Jesus and Mary Chain. A super cute boy wiggles his way through the crowd and ends up standing next to me. He's taking pictures with his SLR. A rather cute girl does the same a few minutes later and takes pictures with her Instagram app. I think they are together, but realize during the show, that they are just randoms. The girl keeps trying to make eye contact with me and it's making me uncomfortable. The Jesus and Mary Chain are amazing and I keep getting goosebumps. A random shirtless Asian gets on stage and tries to take off his pants before a security guard aggressively pushes him off the stage. It's been awhile since I've been in a crowd full of actual fans who are excited to be where they are and not scared to show those emotions. It feels good. It feels liberating. A smile keeps creeping on my face every so often. Especially when a song I forgot even existed starts playing. The show is over. It's late. I find Jared near the buses. We go home.





We start our next day late and I'm happy about it because I was dead to the world. We take the bus downtown. Get some iced toddy's at Bookpeople. I'm not sure what the difference between iced coffee and iced toddy's are but we drink them anyway. Jared eats a bagel and offers me the half with no cream cheese left. I got asked to leave the parking lot/seating area while I was smoking. I had to go to the sidewalk. The dude was nice about it, but it was weird. Jared has the epiphany that he's missing out on something and leaves me near a grocery store. I walk to where The Boy is staying. Something's wrong. The apartment he's at is near some weird industrial area but not too far from where I was. He tells me his stories. We cuddle on the bed. His coworker is going on and on about her woman problems. She's cute about it. It takes forever to get him to leave the apartment. I'm starving. We find food. I order a veggie burger from some burger joint called Stack Burger. It's sooo spicy. I ask for honey mustard but they only bring mustard. There's a strange band playing. The Boy is still in a mood. I don't know how to fix it. So we barely say anything over our late lunch. We walk over to Fader Fort. The Boy yells at me because my empathy levels are sucking. I don't know what to say. I try to play devil's advocate or offer a new perspective instead of agreeing and heightening the pain/anger/sadness. I get it. People need people to be agreeable and yes them to death. I'm just not good at it. The line for Fader Fort is long and there's no one I want to see anyway. I forfeit the line and sit on a cement wall and people watch as The Boy skips the line with his badge. Jared is full of food and good thoughts. He helps me sort through the dramarama. We go to the Marlboro trailer to see if we can score free cigarettes. We score a pack for $1 and some tee shirts and a thumbdrive with awful Marlboro-approved music on it.

Things become blurry again. I know I end up seeing Counting Crows at Auditorium Shores. It's a bit of hike and I keep getting reactions to my Rihanna/Nirvana shirt. Jared and I get in some argument while in this grassy park. We part ways in this field of grass and strangers. There is a designated drinking area, in some kind of corral. We go there and drink things while watching all these teenagers be teenagers. Boys wearing ripped jeans and their boxers hanging out said rip. I was probably this annoying back then too. Gosh, I apologize to any randoms that had to deal with me and my friends back in the 90s. I had no idea the Counting Crows were going to play a full set. "August and Everything After" was the first rock record I ever bought with my own money. It was money I made by literally digging a hole in my front yard. Don't ask. Counting Crows play everything I wanted them to play but "Colorblind" is the song that made me weepy, fragile and on the verge of either fainting or having a nervous breakdown. I'm flooded with memories of the early 90s. They mostly consist of my best friend Gillian and my sister Tiffany. Roaming the neighborhood, riding our bicycles screaming lyrics to "Round Here" and "Mr. Jones." It's a long walk back to civilization. But the Austin air feels good at night.

We make it to the Arts & Crafts showcase to see Trust. We're there early and it's already crowded. I find a seat on some wooden pew against a cement wall. There is something wet but I try and ignore it, I'm oh so tired at this point. A few bands open up and I rush near the front of the stage just before Trust get on stage. They're incredible. I didn't think a voice so deep could come out of such a young tall white boy. I feel more into that everyone else. It's probably because I have been listening to their track "Sulk" on repeat for the last two weeks.



The order of things are lost to me at the point. It's been months since SXSW and I just returned to this post to try and finish it up. That night after Trust we make our way to that diner that had the vegetarian sausage. It's packed. Everyone is exhausted and The Boy leaves once he finishes his meal. I think he had to let some coworkers into the place they were staying at. Ten minutes later Bill Murray gets seated right next to us in the diner. BILL FUCKING MURRAY! It's so surreal and it takes a few minutes for it to sink in and for everyone else to notice. He's with a lot of young ladies. He looks really old too. No one bothers him though. I pretend to go to the bathroom to try and get a good paparazzi shot. All I could muster was a shot of his back from where we were sitting. When we leave, people are crowding near the windows of the diner to peek in at him. It must be strange to be that noticeable. We attempt to walk back to Jared's even though it's miles and miles away because the cab company in Austin won't answer their phone.There is a very drunk guy walking around like Bernie on the dirt path on the side of the road that we're walking on. It's creeping me out. Perhaps he's an extra from The Walking Dead? I pull out this pocket knife thing I got from somewhere that day just in case. We only walk about half of the way to Jared's until we spot a taxi coming down the road that has no one in it. I've never been more excited in my life.



The next morning we go to Bacon where I order a non-bacon breakfast taco. I realize a pack of Camels are only $6 in Texas. Next stop is Youth Lagoon and Nada Surf at Waterloo Records. Youth Lagoon is filling up the street with all it's fuzzy music. I can hear him from three blocks away. Nada Surf rocks everyone's face off but they play too many new songs. We head over to the W for the Nylon party and it's extremely awkward. They actually check the RSVP list and we have to share an elevator to the rooftop of the hotel with a bunch of strangers. There's free alcohol but it's much too early for alcohol and we have a long day ahead of us. The pool boys are fun to look at and the guests that are staying there seem really confused by all the weirdos walking around the pool. We meet the coolest dog on earth.





Jared was squirming up there and wanted to leave, so after I reveled in his uncomfortableness for a bit, I told him we could leave a few minutes later. We make our way out of downtown Austin to some other part of the city where there is a university. Urban Outfitters is throwing a showcase and Grimes was headlining. We have to sit through a few buzz worthy bands that are not very good. Grimes is sick and coughs, squeals, and "fucks" into the microphone a lot. It's incredibly endearing and the crowd is supporting her through the entire process. She loops her vocals, twisting knobs, pulling levers, throwing the microphone over her shoulder. Instead of having pre-programmed music, she is literally creating the beats and synths here in front of us underneath this tent in the back of an Urban Outfitters. I'm smitten.





We're starved and Jared takes me to this asian vegetarian restaurant down the block from Urban. It's incredible and cheap and I want to eat everything. I'm exhausted. I think we eat at Kerbey Lane Cafe every other day and I don't have a problem with that. It's delicious. I dream about the queso and chips. The Boy, Jared and I go there for a late breakfast. The Boy and I are so confused by "Southern hospitality." Why are all the waitresses and waiters so nice? Are they genuine? Or are they condescending? It's too hard to tell. Jared claims it's all authentic but us New Yorkers are just to jaded to comprehend. I'm used to waitresses yelling at me, or telling me about their raunchy rendezvous from the night before. Waitresses in New York are porn stars, moms with five children or aspiring actresses with huge egos.



We find ourselves in a few gay bars one night. The fag hags are unimpressive and I wished I wore something different. These bars are nothing like Flamming Saddles (which was just voted Best Gay Bar in New York Magazine this week) which plays the same Shania Twain songs over and over, accompanied by Country-Western go-go boys on top of the bar. Drinks are so cheap, people queue up awkwardly to buy them and there wasn't an opportunity to dance. We head from one bar to another. One had a drag competition going on and it was absurd. After the show, the dance floor opened up and we were all drunk enough to get our grooves on. A guy with tattoos bought me a shot and a Corona and showed me his hard-on while on the dance floor. He supposedly had a "butter face" and Jared hates me for the rest of the night. I don't remember how we got home.



There are so many dogs in Austin and I want to take all of them home back to New York. The Boy and I go on an adventure to find Gourdough's, a food truck that makes delicious, out-of-this-world doughnuts. It's drizzling a bit and we can't stop orgasming while devouring our desserts. Google Maps brought us through this weird wooded path to get there and The Boy was fearing for his life. We even had to cross over a stream. We go to the Alamo Drafthouse to see Jeff, Who Lives at Home and I get really emotional as The Boy abandons me and I have to walk miles back to the apartment, down South Lamar while a flash flood and tornado warning was in effect. I'm soaked, thinking a lot of thoughts and feeling a lot of feelings. The rain is relentless. The wind is blowing everything everywhere and I wonder if it was my last night on earth.


It is my last night in Austin and Jared and I sit on his balcony and smoke cigarettes and talk about big life things. Jared is one of the best conversationalist I have ever met. No wonder I dated him. My clothes are all wet, including my sneakers. The next morning we get breakfast tacos from some local eatery. Jared calls me a cab. The cab driver is listening to classical music and driving 40 mph on the freeway to the airport. It's incredibly awkward. I watch people say their good byes outside the airport terminal as I smoke my last cigarette and my phone starts blowing up informing me that Lana Del Rey is playing a three night residency at Irving Plaza. My heart jumps to my throat and make my through security. Lana Del Rey might have cancelled all her SXSW shows but nothing will stop me from seeing her in New York this time. Nothing!

Mackenzie Scott, the name behind the moniker TORRES has released the best album of 2013. I know the year just started, but I have a feeling this album will standout among the year’s best releases. The 22-year-old is from Nashville, a city well nourished in music. Like all good albums, this one has a story. She graduated from Belmont University’s songwriting program and supposedly released an EP and performed under her own name. TORRES was a departure from herself. She wanted to start a fresh, artistic venture. Last Christmas, her family chipped in money to buy the Gibson guitar that is heard on the record. An electric guitar offered her a new direction in sound, hence the change in name. The album was recorded mostly live in about five days time, in the home of a fellow singer-songwriter Tony Joe White. Scott wanted to keep the rawness of the album intact and chose to keep things messy and with the least amount of post-production possible.

The end result is a raw, emotional record whose songs flow in and out of indie rock and folk waters. I would even argue Scott swims in ambient rivers and shoegaze ponds. She even ponders in a hazy dream pop forest found in the mountains of the Pacific Northwest where 90s alt-rock was born. The references to nature are intentional; Scott’s album is rich with references to nature. She blames seasons for holding lovers hostage; she contemplates suicide with a waterfall. She even personifies leaves on trees, as if she were a Romantic poet.

She manages to blend all of these different genres and sounds over the course of ten songs without much production. Like I mentioned earlier, this record was recorded in mostly live sessions and that rawness is conveyed on every song. There’s always a spine to see, bones to reveal. TORRES is a fearless effort. As vulnerable and desperate as Scott might sometimes seem, it takes a strong person to release such a personal album like this.

This is the paragraph where I compare Mackenzie Scott to other artists. I always wonder why writers are so inclined to compare artists. We can’t seem to resist the urge. Why can’t an artist just stand on their own? As listeners we hear kindred spirits in voice, familiar chord progressions and similar melodies. Perhaps, it’s just an instinctual human trait to associate and make connections. We’re always borrowing what we know, to mediate something new. Anyway, now that I answered my own question and solved that conundrum let’s make some associations.

The first artist that came to mind when I first listened to TORRES was Sharon Van Etten. There are a lot of obvious similarities: female, guitar-driven, gut-wrenching themes and lyrics. Both are purely indie rock. What stands out most is the intensity of emotion in their voices. These two women have survived a lot of bad times. Van Etten has confessed that she has struggled with a few emotional problems; depression and anxiety to be exact. In her song “We Are Fine,” which Zach Condon of Beirut shares vocal duty, she sings through a panic attack, with the help of Condon. Scott has not been upfront about dealing with the same personal struggles, but she doesn’t have to, they are conveyed in her songs. I can’t help but think about Sharon Van Etten, a singer-songwriter from New Jersey and TORRES from Tennessee, could have lived around the corner from each other, or have been penpals and conquered these demons together. The personal demons that exist within them and the external ones that seem to crush on their souls and hearts. On Scott’s opening track “Mother Earth, Father God,” she sings about these demons “wager[ing] on [her] fall.”

But the reason I first thought of Van Etten when listening to TORRES was because her album “Tramp” came out in 2011 and I still feel dizzy and bruised by it. I mean that in the best way possible. Good albums should shake you to your core. Tramp did that and more. It made my Top 20 list of best records of that year. But Mackenzie Scott can be compared to other artists as well. She’s akin to early Chan Marshall of Cat Power in her vulnerability and rawness. At times she hits PJ Harvey levels of stark passion. In some ways her vocals are reminiscent of Shara Worden who records under the name My Brightest Diamond. While researching TORRES, I stumbled upon Pretty Much Amazing‘s review of TORRES where Drew Malmuth compares her sound to Julie Doiron.

Everything clicks. Julie Doiron, a French-Canadian singer-songwriter who has been releasing heart-wrenching albums for the last twenty years is TORRES’ soul sister. Phil Elverum (of Mount Eerie, The Microphones) has said that Julie Doiron’s voice is one of the saddest he’s ever heard. He then proceeded to record an album with her and it was one the most devastating and beautiful collaborations I have ever heard. I wonder what Elverum would think of TORRES. I’m sure he would invite her to Anacortes, Washington too. I imagine them recording an album in the woods nestled between two mountains.

Got Her Hands Lifted to Heaven and Her Toes Dipped in Hell

TORRES begins her record kicking and punching. “Mother Earth, Father God,” opens with muted chords and cello. Every guitar strum is accented by orchestration; a melancholic cello that appears throughout the album. The song is striking, but it isn’t until her voice comes in and soothes all those sharp edges. But her voice is a double-edged sword. Soothing, yet her first lyric is just as keen as the music, “I was born on bloody battlegrounds,” she confesses. As the song continues, she sings, “Was I blindsided after all? I knew beforehand of the kiss. You always warned me of the kiss. I have been betrayed by a kiss.” Scott has stepped out on the battleground of love. Yes, I’m about to reference Pat Benetar’s 80s hit. Love is a risk, a place where we drop our guards and weapons. We are vulnerable, naked and open to so many things, including pain. “You warned me of the kiss,” Scott sings. We always seem to ignore the cautions and counsel of others and kiss anyway. We kiss and kiss and kiss until it’s too late. “Was I blindsided after all?” she asks. Yes, you were, we always are.

While You Were Ashing in Your Coffee

“Honey” is the first single off of the album. It earned a “Best New Track” nod from Pitchfork. The song starts as a whisper and builds and builds with each verse and chorus. “Honey, while you were ashing in your coffee, I was thinking ’bout telling you what you’ve done to me,” she sings. She’s working up the courage to confront a lover who is blind to the harm they have caused. The line is so vivid, I can imagine the sound of the ash sizzle as it hits the lukewarm coffee in a paper cup.

“Honey” is a song that desires change; it’s a declaration to a lover. As the song progresses, Scott’s voice continues to grow stronger and angrier, reminiscent of PJ Harvey. The song reminds me of Best Coast’s song named “Honey.” It is dark, distorted, filled with real anguish. “Honey” is the lo-fi route I wished Best Coast had chosen. Scott’s “Honey” is yearning for some safe ground on that battlefield she was born on. Halfway through the song she asks, “What ghost crawled inside my guitar?” She mistakes her sudden courage for a ghost and the anthemic song she was building in tone and energy ends somewhere in forfeit. The antagonist wins. But what would an album be if the artist conquered their demons in the second song?



I Think I Have Always Cared Too Much

On “Jealousy and I,” the third track off the album Scott is wrestling with the mistakes of young love. Jealousy. The album slows down here to feature Scott’s vocals. “Would you really have a stranger in your bed, rather than let someone like me take care of you?” she sings. Her vocals shine here, proving she is a true singer. The whispered, twisting and swirling “looooooooove” in the chorus is truly affecting. The guitar picking evokes a bit of shoegaze, something you would hear in a Gregg Araki film. Her voice heard over the atmospheric guitar picking is a bit haunting despite the very common emotion we all have experienced. “I’m suffocating you I know. It’s just the only way I know how to love,” she confesses. Finding the right balance between devotion and obsession is a complicated matter. It’s different with every significant other. Scott is wrestling with the pangs of jealousy in the same way that Daughter, another up-and-coming singer-songwriter from the UK does. Daughter, originally the solo work of Elena Tonra (who is now a trio) tackles the same emotion in her first single “Smother” off her debut album due out in March. These two songs are unintentional companions. They are from two different artists I’m excited for this year.



That Night I Banged at Winter’s Doorstep

“November Baby” is a seven-minute ode to an unknown love. This is where the album comes to a standstill (and I mean that in a good way). It’s the moment you stop in a museum to stare off into an old painting. Or when you watch others stare off into some mural. It’s those moments you catch yourself staring out some window–either at home from your bedroom, or on a train. In those reflective moments where you imagine a possible future for yourself, or the futures of others. Lyrics are all we have in this song. With the exception of the Ed Gein-ian lyric, “This skin hangs on me like a lampshade,” it’s easy to fall into deep contemplation here.

“But summer takes you far from me. So just for now, I’ll place an angel atop an early Christmas tree. Your big sad eyes. Your crooked smile. Your gapped teeth. Your widow’s peak. Oh, my November baby….”

Even the Leaves Grow Weary of the Trees From Which They Came

Here, Scott remembers how to strum a guitar and picks up the pace of the record. She leaves that solemn yet beautiful place she found herself in during the last two songs. On this track she anticipates a season where her love can flourish. I imagine “When Winter’s Over” as a single. The song starts off with a guitar riff, reminiscent of an old Rilo Kiley song. The song starts slow, but you can hear the guitar yearning for some frantic strumming. The song sounds full. There is more than one guitar and a full drum set. “You always made my head spin, more than the whiskey on our lips,” she confesses. Once the chorus kicks in, the song reaches a roar and Scott is belting out the words from deep in her chest. In those few moments, a thrill soars through you. There’s a hint of emo, and some punk roots. This is the anthem “Honey” was reaching for. She sounds like a “seasoned” lover, shouting from a snowy mountaintop.

Fool Me Once and I Won’t Make a Sound. Fool Me Twice, There’s Shame to Go Around

Dark. Dark. Dark. Scott commands your attention from the beginning of "Chains.” A bass guitar or cello is being plucked from the depths of a wronged lover. Her voice is guttural and chilling. The song doesn’t warm up until her voice raises a few octaves. But that goth/industrial bassline still lingers as she sings, “So feed me something real while I’ve got youth left in my veins.” “Chains,” sounds like the darker side of Shara Worden’s My Brightest Diamond. Those brooding and incisive songs off her debut Bring Me the Workhorse.” “Don’t give up on me just yet,” she pleas. No worries, we’re all here hanging on your every word.

Please Don’t Look at This Like a Hit and Run…

“Moon & Back” is a song I can’t touch. If I’m doing the math right, in 1991 Scott was only 2-years-old so she couldn’t have had the baby she sings about giving up for adoption. The sweeping cello and quick violins in this song make the song that much more depressing. Her voice is sweet, the melody lulling you within its grasp. “Life just thought I should draw the shortest straw,” she sings. The song culminates in this rush of emotion, where all the instruments meet abruptly. I can’t help but think of Ben Folds Five’s “Brick.”

I Don’t Feel the Need Today For My Usual Masquerade

On “Don’t Run Away, Emilie,” Scott gets a glimpse of something honest and real. A glimpse of “home” in someone else’s eyes. She claims she “rather have what’s real.” She pulls the mask from off her face. She drops her guard a minute too late. “I need you because you see me,” she pleads. The concentration on vocals in this song are reminiscent of Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink of Azure Ray. The orchestration is in full force here. The title of the song reminds me of Bon Iver’s “For Emma, Forever Ago.” She feels comfortable enough to reveal her true self, but fears “Emilie” won’t stay long.

Cause People Always Change But Ain’t Always Changing For the Better

Scott gives up her electric guitar for an acoustic one on “Come to Terms.” It’s the only track on the album that you hear her fingers sliding up and down the neck of a guitar. There’s something intimate about that sound. In this song, it seems as if she has worked up the courage she was seeking in the beginning of the record. She realizes that perhaps this love of hers, is not supposed to be everlasting. “And just because the two of us will both grow old in time, don’t mean we should grow old together,” she sings. If that isn’t a realization, I don’t know what is.

Nowhere to Go But Down. Nothing to Do But Drown

“Waterfall” is the last song on the record. It reads like a suicide note and sounds like an ambient, dream pop poem. “Oh Waterfall, [...] Do you ever make it halfway down and think, God, I never meant to jump at all?” she sings over a constant ambient whisper. Azure Ray could have written this song. “The rocks below, they bare their teeth. They all conspire to set me free,” she continues singing while standing at the top of this waterfall. Will she jump? “Nowhere to go but down, Nothing to do but drown,” she sings. It’s as if she doesn’t have a choice anymore. If this album was Scott revealing her “truest” self and letting go of the masquerade she was living, perhaps this “suicide” is necessary.

It’s too late to change her mind. Her debut album is out and in the hands of the world. She already jumped. This intimate and raw collection of songs is a beautiful narrative of love. TORRES reveals itself, song-by-song, layer-by-layer. Scott exposes herself in ways few artists do these days. TORRES is an album that suffers from poetic honesty. It speaks of the nature around us, and the nature within us. There’s a song for every lovelorn listener out there. Just choose a season and her weathered voice will soundtrack your thoughts.

TORRES’ debut album is out now. You can find it on iTunes or your local record store. She is also playing a few shows in the US.

2/22 at Cake Shop in New York, NY
2/24 at The Paper Box in Brooklyn, NY
2/25 at DC9 in Washington, DC

Originally posted on PopBytes

Last week Jewel serenaded a handful of fans to a special hour-long set in lower Manhattan at the iHeartRadio Theater presented by P.C. Richard & Son to celebrate the release of her Greatest Hits album. Eleven albums recorded over an eighteen-year span, with over 27 million of them sold is an incredible feat. Her catalog was yearning for a greatest hits compilation, so 2013 was a good year as any for a Jewel retrospective. After a brief introduction, the crowd cheers as Jewel steps on to the stage. She’s radiant, beautiful and collected. A string of lights are hung behind her that illuminate her tan skin. It’s just her, a string of lights and an acoustic guitar. Jewel proves that she doesn’t need a drummer, sound pedals or a lead guitarist. She can stand on her own with just a guitar and a microphone. Her performance is raw, intimate and confessional. It feels like an episode of MTV’s Unplugged or VH1′s Storytellers. Coincidentally, two television series that Jewel was featured on.

“I’m not used to people standing at my shows. It feels so punk rock. I guess I have to change my setlist to allow for some moshing,” she jokes about all the fans that are standing before her. One fan claims that this is her twentieth Jewel show she has been to. “Some people are the creepy cat lady. You’re the creepy Jewel lady,” Jewels jokes around. She continues to play around and admits that she knows who this Jewel fan is and that she stalks her back.



“It’s an interesting process going back and trying to figure out what to put on it because they wouldn’t all fit. So many singles,” Jewel jokes about compiling the songs for her Greatest Hits album. Her guitar is out of tune and she continues to ramble on as she tunes each string. A greatest hits album is not just compiling singles, it’s about making a cohesive collection of singles and non-singles that represent an artist’s career. According to Jewel it was exciting because she was able to redo some songs and release different versions of songs. “I got to sing with Kelly Clarkson on “Foolish Games” which was really cool. She’s a freakish talent,” she tells the audience before she begins playing “Near You Always,” the first song of the night.



Jewel is startlingly charismatic. A woman whose debut album Pieces of You, a record of mostly ballads about heartbreak and the miseries and woes of the world, you would imagine a sullen yet serious artist on stage. Perhaps, in the vein of Fiona Apple or Cat Power. But neither of those artists achieved the success that Jewel did. Pieces of You went 12x platinum. With that kind of success an artist must adapt to their environment and learn how to get by in the music industry. Eighteen years later, Jewel is a seasoned performer, who can carry an entire show by herself. She is full of heartfelt stories about a song’s origin and can effortlessly interact with any audience.

But things are not all duets with talented American Idol winners and jokes about creepy cat ladies. Before Jewel performs her single “Hands” she tells a story about being homeless and living inside of her car, almost dying in the parking lot of a hospital and her brief stint with shoplifting. “It started with carrots, which are apparently the gateway vegetable, because they led to the hard stuff [like] peanut butter,” she tries to make light of her shoplifting days. Jewel continues to paint her picture darker by incorporating a story about camping in the mountains of northern California with her future husband in 2001. On September 14th they returned to the ranch and began to notice flags at half-mast and soon learned that America was attacked just three days prior. She heard a DJ on the radio dedicate her song “Hands” to America, which was going through such a dark time, not unlike the dark time she was going through when she wrote the song.



She asks the audience what songs they would like to hear. Sometimes she shoots them down, confessing she doesn’t remember the lyrics, other times she gives in. A fan asks if she can play “Rosey and Mick” off of her 2008 country album Perfectly Clear and she does. Since her greatest hits album was released that day she felt obliged to play some of them including but not limited to “Foolish Games,” “You Were Meant For Me” and the song that made her famous “Who Will Save Your Soul.” By request, she also plays “Satellite” off of her 2006 album Goodbye Alice in Wonderland. She does an acoustic version of the tongue-in-cheek pop song “Intuition” (from 0304) and it actually fits amongst even her saddest ballads. Even without the French accordion and drum machine, we’re all brought back to 2003, as she sings about JLo’s butt, Kate Moss and Charlie Sheen.



“You’re the ship. I’m the wreck. You’re the bomb. I’m the tick,” she sings on “Two Hearts Breaking,” a new song she recorded for her Greatest Hits album. It’s a song that seems to incorporate all the “pieces” that make up the artist known as Jewel. It is definitely a song written by a singer-songwriter who grew up listening to and playing folk music. She sings about the dark times that love can sometimes bring. But there’s also a hint of hope in the chorus. The production on the recorded track borrows some pop elements, in the way that Taylor Swift does. Is Taylor this generation’s Jewel?* Two artists attempting to keep one foot in their country/folk beginnings and the other foot testing the waters of pop music.

Before playing “Who Will Save Your Soul,” her last song of the night, Jewel lightens up the mood one last time by explaining that she sounds like Kermit the Frog on her first album. She recommends the audience to go back and listen to Pieces of You and promises you’ll cringe just as much as she does when hearing it. Jewel couldn’t guarantee a yodel at the end of the night because she was nursing a sore throat. But after a heart-wrenching performance she did end the night by yodeling a song her father taught her when she was six-years-old. Despite her discomfort she yodeled like she always had, riling up the audience as she yodeled faster and faster with each verse. A yodel is the quintessential ending to a Jewel performance; it seemed like that night, it was a special thank you to all of her many fans for supporting her for all of these years.

*For the record, I’m not a Taylor Swift fan but I can see the similarities between her and Jewel. Also, Jewel was an artist I couldn’t admit to liking back in the 1990s. It would have ruined my punk rock cred if I confessed to borrowing my sister’s copy of Pieces of You to learn how to play “You Were Meant For Me” on guitar. Fast-forward to 2013 and I can openly admit to liking Jewel. This is why this iHeartRadio show meant so much to me. It was a coming out of sorts. My heart had been longing for almost fifteen years for this day to come. I stood in that theater as a proud Jewel fan, amazed and awestruck, as chills ran down my Jewel-loving spine.



Originally posted on PopBytes

The best films of 2012, huh? This was probably the first year that I didn't have a clear number one movie of the year. By no means am I saying there weren't any exceptional films that came out this year. What I'm really saying is that there were a lot of exceptional films but none that exceeded exceptionally. Or maybe I'm saying that all of these films are so exceptional that they all belong in the number one spot. All of this humdrum is going to be negated by my next sentence. Regardless of the numbers that sit beside these movies, they all deserve to be recognized, acknowledged and adored. Some of these films are small independent ones; films that are begging for pairs of eyes from all over the world to see. Cinema and distribution is rapidly changing as technology progresses. If you don't have an indie theater in your town and don't live in a city like New York, your cable provider offers you these movies on demand. Netflix has been curating a decent array of independent films too; even Oscar-nominated documentaries like How to Survive a Plague are available on instant streaming right now. There are many small films available from your remotes and game controllers. Browse through Amazon's streaming offerings and don't forget about iTunes! You no longer have an excuse to miss out on great movies.

These little films are much better than these overwrought films that historicize politics and "true events." I'm looking at you Lincoln and Zero Dark Thirty. Though, Daniel Day-Lewis does deserve his Oscar nomination, but the film was such a bore. No one seemed real. I thought I was watching claymation or motion captured computer-animation. Basically, it looked like The Polar Express. The latter film, Zero Dark Thirty wants to be controversial oh so badly and it makes me want to punch Kathryn Bigelow in the face. The other day someone explained to me her appeal. Supposedly, she takes the mundane esoteric mechanics of the American government and its military and turns it into a compelling narrative. I guess, I can give her that. But there's something completely negligent and manipulating about Zero Dark Thirty. Bigelow argues that her "fictional" film is "based on fact" but opens her film with a real recorded phone conversation between a 911 operator and a September 11th WTC casualty. Not to mention, the film is shot realistically, its camerawork jittery and shaky, resembling a firsthand account of its events. A documentary feel. It's fallible and manipulative. She should start making movies like Point Break again. That film was such a staple in my movie-watching youth and it still holds up!

Despite the flaws of American cinema and Hollywood in general, it did surprise me when they nominated Michael Haneke for "Best Director." Did it really take such an emotionally grueling meditation on aging and death for the "Academy" to recognize one of the most important filmmakers of our time? I wish they would follow the Cannes Film Festival's lead all of the time. Also, I would like to thank the "Academy" for nominating Emmanuelle Riva for "Best Actress." Her depiction of a woman who slowly loses one by one, all her human faculties is absolutely terrifying. All of these JenLaw fans need to just stop. I like Jennifer Lawrence, but it's very easy to play the harlot.

What is with all of this talk about Oscars and nominations anyway? The Oscars are a waste of time. They're boring, lame and irrelevant. I blame my boyfriend for this. He's obsessed with award shows. I swear he even DVRs the Country Music Awards. I remember last winter he was in my apartment, on the phone with one of his friends debating who will win such and such nomination. This went on for far too long. My eyes were rolled into the back of my head. Where is the pleasure in a conversation like that? It sounds like they are betting on horses at OTB.

2012 was the year I was in the same room with Catherine from Twin Peaks. I mean Piper Laurie. She was promoting a new memoir during a screening of the 1961 drama, The Hustler. We didn't know she would be there. We were in the cafe purchasing beverages and as I turned around from the counter I spotted her and my heart sunk in my chest. It was nearly impossible to dissociate her from Catherine Martell. When we spoke to her, her voice sent shivers down my spine.



I was also in the same room as Parker Posey, Noah Baumbach and Josh Hamilton for a special screening of the 1995 film Kicking and Screaming at BAM. Posey's energy was felt throughout the entire theater, as she sat cross-legged in her chair, interjecting herself in the conversation, awkwardly yet brilliantly. Little did I know, I would be in the same room as her again. Just last month she did a Q&A for Party Girl, the cult classic film she starred in. It was well documented here on PopBytes.



2012 was also the year I would be in the same theater as Alicia Silverstone and Amy Heckerling. The director of the classic Clueless and its star were at BAM, doing a Q&A for not only their new film Vamps but for a screening of the film that made Silverstone famous. It was part of a series called "Hey, Girlfriend!" that was co-curated by Lena Dunham and BAM's own Nellie Killian. It was surreal to sit in the same room with Heckerling, who basically reared me as a child. How many times did us Generation X and Generation Y-ers watch Look Who's Talking and its subsequent sequels? How many of us were coming of age when Clueless was released? Heckerling cultivated our tastes without us even realizing it. She deserves recognition for that even if Vamps didn't succeed in its intent. The reunion of Heckerling and Silverstone is enough reason to watch Vamps. Once you begin to dissect the comedy about an out-of-touch, old vampire, with Silverstone's looks, trying to assimilate to this decade's expectations of women, you begin to understand where Heckerling is coming from. Even if some of the jokes fall flat, they are expected to; Heckerling is supposed to make a film for twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings. Diablo Cody (Juno, Young Adult) should have written Vamps (at least she wrote the underrated Jennifer's Body). She is one of the few writers cultivating the tastes of Millennials. Cody picked up where Heckerling left off.

This was the year Joss Whedon received the recognition he deserved. Despite all of his cancelled shows and cult status, he was never able to crossover into the film world. Who knew they would let Whedon take reigns of the many Marvel superheroes that star in The Avengers? The film broke a bunch of box office records. I'm not sure which ones but I'm sure those box office records were squashed by the next action film that was released. All of that stuff is irrelevant to me. Everyone seemed pleased by the film itself. Even I couldn't wait to find myself in a theater to watch it, and I'm not really a fan of superhero movies. I'm not sure if Whedon upset any diehard Marvel comic book nerds or not, but his Whedonisms were found everywhere in the film. He also had another movie of his come out in theaters this year. The horror film The Cabin in the Woods he co-wrote with Drew Goddard. It might have been my favorite horror film in the last ten years. Or maybe since Scream? I had huge expectations and the film far exceeded anything I could ever imagine.

I attended the Tribeca Film Festival again this year. Molly Parker was extraordinary in The Playroom. Not to mention, John Hawkes is like a chameleon and can morph into any character you give him. The casting is pitch perfect too. There are a lot of children in the movie and not one of them is precociously annoying. That's really hard to do. I also saw Val Kilmer in Harmony Korine's The Fourth Dimension, a movie that incorporated three short films with three different directors. It was creepy, perverted and gorgeous. I watched the gayest movie playing at the gayest movie theater in Manhattan. Ira Sachs' Keep the Lights On. After the film I was emotionally drained but the boyfriend was still able to flag down John Cameron Mitchell and tell him how amazing he is. JCM is such a staple in NYC. Anywhere you turn, he's there.

I watched The Master while enjoying a cup of coffee at Nitehawk in Brooklyn. I saw a bizarrely touching and beautiful German film called Heavy Girls during the Rooftop Films Summer Series. Or was it a festival? I'm not sure, but I scored free tickets through Twitter and the film was not screened on a rooftop, it was screened at ground level behind a building near McCarren Park on some grass. I felt a bit woozy watching Ruby Sparks and actually had to run to the bathroom to avoid an anxiety attack. I watched Magic Mike with a bunch of women on Long Island on opening night. I felt I was at a bachelorette party for someone's third marriage. I saw it again in Queens. I watched Wet Hot American Summer in Brooklyn Bridge Park and most of the cast showed up including Amy Poehler.



I saw Jeff, Who Lives at Home in Austin at the Alamo Drafthouse. After the film was over, my boyfriend abandoned me and I had to walk a few miles through a monsoon to get back to my friend's apartment. It was a very surreal and contemplative journey. I felt manipulated by Jonathan Caouette's sequel to Tarnation called Walk Away Renee. It still didn't stop me from feeling feelings. He was in the theater too with his sexy husband. I saw The Perks of Being a Wallflower twice. Once with Gaelen and she was the perfect companion. The film reminded me of how much that book meant to me when it was first published. I kind of disregarded it over the years. Ezra Miller was no longer Kevin and I completely fell for him. Stephen Chbosky is an incredible author and director. I was gutted by Joachim Trier's Oslo, August 31st one afternoon during that ridiculous heatwave New York was suffering from. Brit Marling is top notch. Sound of My Voice was stunning and thought-provoking in all the best ways. I legitimately screamed more than a few times during Sinister, embarrassing myself, but my boyfriend more. Lawnmower. I tried to use my Letterboxd account more this year. A film diary is a great idea. Nick Stahl went missing. Sarah Polley's Take This Waltz deserves all those good reviews. VFILES commissioned an artist to make Gregg Araki merchandise. I am now the proud owner of a Nowhere t-shirt.



Compliance made me feel weird. Elizabeth Olsen is still exceptional even though Silent House happened. Melanie Lynskey needs to be in more films. Hello I Must Be Going was hilarious yet dark. Joseph Kahn's Detention was gloriously sick and perverted. Joseph Kahn might be this generation's Gregg Araki. Cloud Atlas tried too hard, though I was entertained. I didn't get to see Beasts of the Southern Wild, even though I have it on a thumb drive. I'm just not ready. And after five failed attempts, I feel as if I will never see Holy Motors. And from the images, reviews and trailers, I know it would probably fall into my Top 10. 2012 marked the year that MoviePass would launch. I agreed to be one of their guinea pigs while they are in beta and signed up for a year. $29.99 a month to see as many movies as I want in the theater? I'm into it. After more than a few failed attempts to purchase tickets with the credit card they sent me, they finally worked out all the kinks. Every transaction has been smooth and effortless these last two months. Now, if only distributors would distribute some movies! I've seen every movie that is in theaters right now. I need more cinema!

Anyway, here is my "Best Movies of 2012" list. Please be aware that at any given moment the order that these films are arranged could change at any moment. I could barely see every movie I wanted to see this year, so repeat viewings were a bit difficult. How do we know if a film is the absolute best of the year if we only saw it once? Though, I did see Magic Mike or Wanderlust more than once for reasons I'm sure you guys could figure out. So, here goes! Proceed with caution.

Best Movies of 2012

40. Vamps


39. Savages


38. Heavy Girls


37. Damsels in Distress


36. Safety Not Guaranteed


35. The Avengers


34. The Fourth Dimension


33. Sound of My Voice


32. Jeff, Who Lives at Home


31. This is 40


30. The Playroom


29. Ruby Sparks


28. Celeste & Jesse Forever


27. The Five-Year Engagement


26. Pitch Perfect


25. Sinister


24. ParaNorman


23. Wanderlust


22. Django Unchained


21. Dark Horse


20. Looper


19. Cosmopolis


18. Keep the Lights On


17. Killer Joe


16. Magic Mike


15. Compliance


14. Perfect Sense


13. Silver Linings Playbook


12. Lola Versus


11. Your Sister's Sister


10. Oslo, August 31st


09. Hello I Must Be Going


08. The Master


07. Detention


06. Take This Waltz


05. The Perks of Being a Wallflower


04. The Cabin in the Woods


03. Beloved


02. Amour


01. The Imposter

Warm Bodies is one of those movies that you neither love nor hate. It’s like that moment at the end of each Project Runway episode, where the designers that weren’t the best or worst are safe and are told to leave. I can hear the loud sigh as director Jonathan Levine, watched the final cut of his most recent film. He must be relieved he was able to pull it off safely and unscathed. To top it all off, Warm Bodies opened at number one at the box office this past weekend, pulling in about $20 million. I think Levine and distributor Summit Entertainment would call that a success for a pseudo-indie zombie flick.



The marketing for the film was spot on and very appropriate for Valentine’s Day, which is just one week away. I imagine some awkward, yet attractive sixteen-year-old boy (not unlike Nicholas Hoult, who plays zombie-protagonist R) in the suburbs who wants to take his girlfriend on a date to see it. It’s not your usual rom-com and it isn’t a “chick flick” either; the boy would score points with the girl for his “unique” taste and sensibility. He’d have his mom drop them off in her minivan and he’d buy her popcorn. She wouldn’t know much about the film and would be surprised by how much “heart” it had. Bon Iver‘s voice would soothe both her heart and the hearts of the zombies (or “corpses” which is what the characters refer to the undead as). Feist‘s voice would pick up the pieces and keep the plot moving forward, keeping everyone’s heart beating through the post-apocalyptic world, but keeping the solemn, lovelorn tone intact.

I expected more from the music in the film. There is no official soundtrack, but the film does showcase many indie-gone-mainstream artists. Bon Iver, Feist, M83 and The National to just name a few. It also showcases artists like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, musicians that Bon Iver and Feist would probably name as inspiration for making music. The soundtrack is a bit disappointing because Alexandra Patsavas, the beloved music supervisor for films like the Twilight series (which all have an oddly amazing indie soundtrack!) and television shows like Gossip Girl, The O.C. and Grey’s Anatomy didn’t deliver. She’s usually known for showcasing smaller artists who are up and coming. She brings these incredible songs to the masses. For Warm Bodies it seemed she got lazy and referred to indie-gone-mainstream staples like Bon Iver, who won two Grammys last year for “Best New Artist” and “Best Alternative Music Album.” Perhaps, she had a bigger budget to work with and didn’t have to search for new artists? What a missed opportunity. For a complete tracklisting of the music in the film, Indiewire posted it here.

Warm Bodies is based on a novel written by Isaac Marion, which received generally positive reviews; a zombie romance that incorporates a bit of social commentary. Insert “zombie” to represent any minority you wish, in the same vein as Alan Ball uses “vampire” on True Blood. John Malkovich is superb as the militant-racist leader of the new world, who happens to be the father of Julie (played by Teresa Palmer), the girl who zombie-protagonist R, falls in love with. We can now insert allusions to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Montague vs. Capulet. I can’t believe her name is Julie! Can Levine (or Isaac Marion) be anymore didactic? Give your audience some credit.

The film is simple in plot and execution. The voiceover narration by R is mildly entertaining. He’s an outcast amongst his zombie counterparts. He doesn’t remember his own life, not even his own name, but still manages to hold on to some of his humanity. He can’t help eating human brains to keep nourished. By devouring the minds of his victims he is flooded with human memories; memories of the person he’s eating. By killing, he sustains what little bit of humanity he has left. He wins the heart of Julie, by eating the brain of her boyfriend Perry, played by Dave Franco (who is killed off much too early in the film). With each bite into Perry’s brain–the frontal lobe, the cerebellum, he gets to know Julie, through flashbacks from Perry’s perspective.

Eventually, it’s love that spreads through the zombie race. The corpses begin remembering their human ways and the love they used to feel. R and Julie inspire this infection of love. Amongst the zombies, there are “bonies,” zombies who have lost all of their humanity, stripped of all their flesh. If zombies are a misunderstood “race” or minority, I’m still trying to figure out what the bonies are. The Osama bin Ladens and Hitlers of the world? They are so forgone, their humanity amounts to death and destruction?

Ultimately, it is war that bonds the humans and corpses. The bonies catch wind that “love” has infected the zombie race and quickly amass a raid on the zombies and humans before this rebellion of love could take over the world and they are an extinct species. Julie and R lead this battle, trying to convince humankind that zombies just need a little bit of love to change their undead ways. I’m sure you can figure out what happens next.

Warm Bodies spoofs the zombie genre to create an alt-romantic-comedy. It succeeds in its mission but the humor isn’t always there. Julie even has a line in the film where she calls R a “chesseball.” I almost gagged on such an off-putting line. Who says cheeseball? Perhaps a chesseball film that coasts on the surface of things? 2009′s Zombieland which starred Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson and Emma Stone did it much better, which has a sequel in the works. I would suggest to that sixteen-year-old boy to wait for that or rent Zombieland and invite his girlfriend over instead.

I like Jonathan Levine. I loved The Wackness. I liked 50/50. But I think he found a safe middle ground here, where he can be just like that sixteen-year-old boy who is out on a date with his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. Warm Bodies is slightly discursive and unconventional (in the way that Zombieland was), yet treads on cliché and familiarity within the genre just enough to make decent money at the box office.

To be quite honest, I had more fun watching the ridiculously over-the-top trailer for Tyler Perry’s new movie Temptation. The trailer prominently features Kim Kardashian, who mouths words with a deer-in-headlights blank stare. Who wouldn’t want to see that? That movie looks like pure gold.



Originally posted on PopBytes.

A few weeks ago Parker Posey sat down with film programmer Miriam Bale at 92YTribeca to discuss the 1995 cult classic film Party Girl, which she stars in, after a sold-out screening of the screwball comedy. Tickets were in such high demand 92YTribeca had to add a second screening to follow the Q&A. The enthusiasm for this little film seemed endless. On 92YTribeca’s Facebook page, the Party Girl post generated over 300 comments and the audience at the Q&A seemed to hang on every word Posey spoke.

Party Girl depicted a New York that could only exist in the early-mid 90s. A city filled with a generation of twenty-somethings who just watched the first season of MTV’s The Real World. The East Village was dirtier and grittier. Graffiti, baggy jeans and a rotary phone Posey’s Mary uses while in jail. Rudy Giuliani was still settling into his mayorship and the AIDS epidemic was waning but still a very real thing people were dealing with.



Watching the film almost twenty years later, you realize it’s a testament of the 90s; it is truly a time capsule. It depicted an era of blithe and hedonism. Ball culture, drag queens and raves. Illegal parties were thrown at random locations throughout Manhattan. Posey was asked if Mary was similar to her and if she experienced the same things living in New York City back then. She replied with an enthusiastic yes. Posey asked the audience if they have ever seen the documentary Paris is Burning and there was a collective yes heard in the room.

Drag and ball culture had already trickled down into all clubs and bars. It was no longer confined to particular “houses” anymore. She remembers going out with the cast and crew while filming and they would dance and dance and dance. She explained they would all go out to have a good time, not to find someone to go home with. They weren’t interested in that. She joked that Giuliani stopped dancing, or he never danced at all and started “cleaning up” New York. If the mayor stops dancing, the city stops dancing.

The hedonism of the early 90s seemed to stop and the culture started to evolve. The ethics of grunge no longer held any weight. Sex and the City premiered on HBO just three years after Party Girl was released. The anti-capitalistic, Kill Your Television generation of grunge seemed to suddenly accept and adopt materialistic principles. “Sex and the City” was a perfect example of this consumerism and material consumption. Posey points out this shift in culture as a reason why it is so much more difficult for young people to be creative in New York City. It’s expensive to live in this city. She doesn’t want to come off pessimistic and apologizes and says that she still sees artists all over New York and jokes that they all live in Brooklyn.

Posey talks about how grueling it was to make an independent film like Party Girl. The shooting schedule is short with barely any time to sleep. She remembers cuddling with Guillermo Díaz, her costar who plays Leo, on a couch on set between takes. Also, she vividly explained that she was so exhausted from shooting and partying that she wanted to pull out her eyeballs and soak them in water. She mentions that Liev Shreiber, who plays her on-again, off-again boyfriend hated her. “He thought I was really dumb. It wasn’t until after filming that he realized I wasn’t just some vapid actress,” Posey says. (This is not an exact quote. I’m paraphrasing here). Someone asks her if they improvised on set of Party Girl and she said no, it wasn’t a Christopher Guest film. She also mentioned that kind of improvisation didn’t really happen back then and gives all writing credit to Harry Brickmayer, the screenwriter.

Parker Posey is a New Yorker. She loves New York City and has called it home ever since she moved here after college. She attended SUNY Purchase which she speaks highly of when asked about her transition from theater to film acting. She knew while filming this movie, that it would inspire others to leave their small towns in Middle America for the city. Many people in the audience corroborate that. They share with Posey how much the film either inspired them to move to NYC or inspired them to become a librarian.

Someone asks her if she has had any crazy encounters with fans and she says no. She elaborates a bit more and explains that she doesn’t remember a lot of things. Posey explains to live in New York you can’t remember everything. You tend to block out the horrific and absurd things you encounter and experience. It’s a defense mechanism she adopted to function in a city like New York. Despite all of this, she still can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s the only city where she was able to build a life outside of acting. She does say Los Angeles is a necessary evil because most acting jobs are out there and that she visits from time to time. “If you don’t they will forget about you. They don’t remember how you bled or how you were funny and sad at the same time. They don’t remember any of that,” she deadpans.

Los Angeles is where she picked up a recent guest starring role on FOX’s New Girl. Television is where you will find most of Posey’s recent work. Her current arc on this season of Louie has been widely adored. Not to mention her guest appearances on television series like The Big C and The Good Wife. Last year she starred in the comedy Price Check, which was released by IFC. Check out the trailer below. Also, be sure to check out all of the amazing events that are happening at 92YTribeca as well.



Almost twenty years later and Party Girl still remains a cult classic; its still a staple in Parker Posey’s oeuvre. It was a rare, staggering and phenomenal performance only Parker Posey could have pulled off. After the Q&A, my friends and I gathered outside the theater gushing about watching Party Girl for the first time in a theater. One friend admitted that back in the late 90s he took sound bytes from the film and used them as sounds for AOL Instant Messenger. I kept repeating the “imitate a cat puking,” line over and over. Posey mentioned she ate so much falafel while they were filming that she couldn’t eat falafel for years, but then recommended a great falafel place nearby. I’ve never craved a falafel so much in my life and could not remember where Posey said I could find the best one. It’s been a few weeks since the event and I still have not fulfilled my craving. All I really want to do is walk up to the counter and ask for a “falafel with hot sauce, a side order of Baba Ghanoush and a seltzer” and pretend for a moment that I’m Mary, librarian by day, party girl by night.

Originally posted on PopBytes.

Conor Maynard performed his first show in New York City last week at the iHeartRadio Theater in the lower west side of Manhattan. Thankfully, PopBytes was invited to this intimate performance presented by P.C. Richard & Son and lived to tell about it. Often referred to as the “UK Justin Bieber,” Conor owned the stage he performed on last Tuesday night. Underneath all of the lights Conor sang his little British heart out and the audience of teenage girls were eating it all up. Cameras were filming him from every angle and he posed and moved accordingly. He is not a seasoned performer just yet, repeating the same hand movements and fumbling with his between song banter, but it didn’t matter to the fans that were standing before him. They screamed and screamed every time he either smiled, smirked or spoke.

At only 19-years-old, Conor’s debut album Contrast (just released here in the states) reached number one on the UK album charts over the summer. Before he reached this success he was singing ballad-ized covers of pop songs and posting them on YouTube. He generated quite a following and was supposedly discovered by Ne-Yo, who quickly became his mentor. Now Conor is trying to take his success across the pond to the US and his first stop is New York City.



He opened his ten-song set with “Animal,” which will be his fourth official single (catch the music video below). His vocals were spot on and that stays true through his entire set. He has solid vocals, which is difficult to say about his counterparts. He performs “Can’t Say No,” and “Turn Around,” the track that features his mentor Ne-Yo. He’s bathed in red lights while teenage girls are screaming for him to take off his shirt. The only thing he takes off is his jacket, but he does so by his own volition and not on their command. He performs “Just In Case,” and for half of the song he is accompanied by just a keyboard that he’s playing until his band jumps in to end the song in a crescendo.

He performs an acoustic cover of Swedish House Mafia‘s “Don’t Worry, Child” and the whole room seems to be swooning. What would a Conor Maynard show be without a cover of a particular pop song? He ends his set with “Vegas Girl” and the floor seems like it’s going to collapse from all the jumping and dancing. He mentions Rihanna, Beyonce and Alicia Keys in the song and it’s hard to tell if he views them as muses, contemporaries or his particular type of woman. It’ll be interesting to see where Conor goes from here. Will his pop-conscious shtick work in America? If the screaming fans in the audience are any indication, then there is definitely potential for him here. Maynaics do exist on this side of the Atlantic!





Originally posted on PopBytes.

PopBytes was invited to attend a special intimate performance by Bruno Mars at the iHeartRadio Theater earlier in December. I walked into the theater on the lower west side of Manhattan as a casual listener of Bruno. Little did I know I would leave a Bruno Mars fan. The small venue was filled with people of all ages. Industry-types, gays, and moms with their ten-year-old daughters. I had no idea that his fans would cross generations and gender either. Before he took the stage, Z100 kept playing the same few songs over and over again. Imagine Dragons and The Lumineers. I felt as if I don’t hear those songs on the air nearly as often as I heard them that night. It’s a special evening because Bruno is playing this show on the same day his new record Unorthodox Jukebox is released on Atlantic Records.

Bruno Mars takes the stage with a hat and sunglasses on. He’s charming the shirts and bras off of all the women in the room. He opens with his new single “Locked Out of Heaven” and I’m amazed. I’ve heard this song countless times on the radio but I always chose to ignore it. It was always a song that you would in the background while you were having a conversation with someone in your car. Watching it being performed by him and seven other people on stage was a different story. There are brass instruments everywhere; the trombones and saxophones fill the room with such energy. There are also back-up singers and choreography to go along with every song.

“So your sex takes me to paradise. Yeah your sex takes me to paradise,” Bruno sings. Are those really the lyrics? Are these moms and daughters really singing along to this song? Incredible. Let’s not forget to mention how much this song sounds like The Police. The retro feel and sound of the song is unlike anything else on pop radio. The song ends and girls are screaming his name and he’s being very playful with them. He introduces his band as his “team” and tells the audience to put away their “camera phones” and enjoy the show.

He plays two new songs. One song is called “Treasure” and the other song sounds like reggae infused with a pop hook. I remember him singing about not letting a buzz go to waste. It seems this second record is about dealing with life after having a successful first album. To wipe up all of the sex and alcohol he’s selling, he performs “Marry You” with hopes to clean up his image a little bit. It seems to work because everyone seems to be swooning. But then his next song gets to the crux of it all. “All you young wild girls, you make a mess of me. Yeah, you young wild girls, you’ll be the death of me,” he sings. It’s the women who complicate his heart. It’s the women he is writing about in these songs.

Since Christmas was only two weeks away, Bruno decides to sing a Christmas song. He chooses “White Christmas” and it sounds great. He sings the soprano part to his entourage’s bass and tenors. The last two songs he performs are his two biggest hits. “Grenade” and “Just The Way You Are.” I can’t hear the song “Grenade” without thinking about MTV’s Jersey Shore. It wasn’t Bruno’s intention to release a song at the same time as Jersey Shore‘s popularity was dominating televisions across the country. But according to Urban Dictionary a grenade is the “solitary ugly girl always found with a group of hotties.” While Bruno’s singing about his undying affections for a girl, all I can ever think about is The Situation or Pauly D making out with a grenade.

The show is over and everyone starts to clear out of the iHeartRadio Theater. I make way out of the building and start walking to Bowery Ballroom where Solange is playing a show. I put headphones on. I haven’t even pushed play on my iPod yet and all I can hear is the guitar riff in “Locked Out of Heaven.” That song is so damn catchy! It’s been a few weeks since Bruno’s show and I must confess that he won me over that night in December. “Locked Out of Heaven” is no longer that song that is on in the background, it has become the song I turn up when it comes on the radio.






Originally posted on PopBytes.

2012 was an incredible year for music! It's strange how much can happen in just a year. This time last year, I was complaining about the lack of good albums. Everyone thought it was a sad year for "indie" music. I couldn't even list 50 albums that thrilled me. I would have even accepted cheap thrills if there were any to list. I was only able to muster up a list of 30 albums! But thankfully 2012 changed the trajectory of music releases! It was as if the pop and indie worlds conspired to take over the world. I was overwhelmed (in a good way) with the radio and what the smaller record labels were releasing. There was so much good music; I couldn't even listen to it all! There were so many albums I wanted to spend time with. I found it difficult enough to stop listening to the same albums over and over again because they were that good. I apologize in advance to Stars, Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, The Magnetic Fields and MNDR. The albums that appear on the list below are not just albums I liked, I fell for these albums, and I fell hard. I loved these records. If these records were lovers of mine, they would have hickeys and sore lips from all our make-out sessions.

As much as I wanted to despise Lana Del Rey, I just couldn't. I spent the entire year in a messy codependent relationship with Elizabeth Woolridge Grant. This relationship was well documented here and here. With every misstep and eventual crack in my heart, she would find a way to correct her step and fill those cracks with cemented love. She is a cunning, beautiful enigma. Her presence dominated pop culture. She broke all our indie hearts and then crossed over to the other side--that side where indie starlets go to die. Brilliantly, she did all of this covertly because she never actually was an indie songstress. She fooled us from the beginning. And there began the lie, the deceit and the cause of all our romantic troubles. On the other side of celebrity she flirted with fame, TV, millions of records sold and hanging on the arms of weathered, old rock stars. We have to forgive her. If we were listening closely, she was always destined for a Hollywood fate. The tortured, beautifully tragic kind. Despite her supposed horrific SNL performance* she still re-released the "Paradise" edition of "Born to Die" in October and broke our hearts all over again. I’m having a hard time wondering what 2013 looks like for Lana Del Rey. If I'm reading and listening to these new songs and music videos correctly, I feel as if "Paradise" was a love letter, a farewell, a suicide note, if you will, to her fans and detractors. I hope this is not the case, but I do think she needs to rest and heal her wounds. She has a delicate and sensitive soul and the world has this irresistible need to tear everyone down.

*I would like to argue that her SNL performance was not as bad as everyone made it out to be. A woman uncomfortable on stage, singing in front of millions of Americans? Why wouldn't she be nervous? Let's see you do any better. And let's not fogret that those beautifully crafted love songs are difficult to sing. Next time you're at the bar and there's karaoke, I dare you to try and sing "Video Games."



The albums listed below have soundtracked one of the best years of my life. I spent half of 2011 in a broken cataclysmic relationship with a sociopath. It was the end of an almost two year romance that bankrupted me in every way possible. I spent most of 2012 trying to reacclimate to real life. The transition from bankruptcy to solvency was made easier because I met a boy just before 2011 was coming to a close. This boy is the reason 2012 has been one of the best years of my life. I have Twitter, Four Loko, Andrew Haigh's Weekend and the band Yuck to thank for this. Rihanna and Calvin Harris' "We Found Love" was our first anthem. It quickly turned into "212" by Azealia Banks and then Lana Del Rey's entire oeuvre. The last few cold months of 2011 really set the foundation for our extraordinary romance. We spent the entirety of 2012 finding every song that was attached to Lana. We found fan-made mixtapes and demos of songs that would have sounded better if they were never produced. Cough. National Anthem. Cough. Sometimes Lana needs to put down that bottle of Xanax. We followed every incarnation of her. As songs leaked over the Internet on (almost) a daily basis, we'd be there salivating. She was our muse, the soundtrack to our love. She scored the long make-out sessions in my car, the arguments in his Subaru. Just last week we were driving all over Manhattan after the Grizzly Bear/Sleigh Bells Sandy Relief show and we sang along to every song off of "Paradise."

2012 marked the first year I went to SXSW in Austin. It also marked the first time I saw Counting Crows live despite "August and Everything After" being one of the first albums I ever bought with my own money (which I earned by doing chores around my house). That was 1993. Adam Duritz used to mean a lot to me, so when they played "Colorblind" I was having heart palpitations (in a good way of course). I also woke up at 8am to catch Imperial Teen play in a bike shop, saw Dev and Santigold for the first time and Grimes coughed into a microphone trying to sing during her set at the Urban Outfitters showcase.

In 2012 I saw The Smashing Pumpkins live for the first time in Brooklyn at the Barclays Center. I also saw The Cranberries at Terminal 5 and Garbage played Webster Hall. The closest we would ever get to a Hole reunion happened at Public Assembly in Williamsburg. Courtney Love surprised everyone and showed up to play "Miss World" with Melissa Auf der Maur, Eric Erlandson and Patty Schemel. It was a magical experience that was well documented in the YouTube video below. A few days before, we listened to Eric read from a book of poetry and he played a few songs with Melissa at Barnes and Noble in Union Square.



It was a complete 90s revival in 2012. Not only did The Smashing Pumpkins release a new album but so did Imperial Teen, The Cranberries and Marilyn Manson. Not only did I see the Counting Crows for the first time but I also saw Garbage for the first time since the played The Vanderbilt in Plainview years and years ago. Marilyn Manson played a small venue on Long Island and did his shtick and it felt like "shtick" and it bothered me a little. I saw Fiona Apple perform on both the west and east coast this year at venues with the same name. The Paramount. David Bazan went on tour to celebrate the ten-year anniversary of his classic "Control" album and played it from start to finish with a brief intermission of new and old songs in between. The Promise Ring played a reunion show at Irving Plaza and it nearly broke my (emo) heart. Taking Back Sunday played their only good album "Tell All Your Friends" from start to finish on Long Island and it made me feel really really old. They didn't deliver and I blame Adam Lazzara completely.

2012 wasn't all about 90s nostalgia! It was the year I discovered Charli XCX and wished I got into that Pitchfork showcase at SXSW with her and Fiona Apple. I also fell in love with a band called Trust who sounded like they were the lovechild of Crystal Castles and Salem. I was introduced to Kitty Pryde and caught her gig downstairs at Santos and danced my heart out at Azealia Banks' Mermaid Ball. So much confetti and Percocets! This was the year of Icona Pop. I can't even remember how many times we saw them. Glowsticks galore at Glasslands. Sweaty and loud at Santos. I met Marina from Marina and The Diamonds and saw her play an intimate acoustic set on the rooftop of a hotel in Soho.

In 2012 I became a contributing writer for a blog called PopBytes which has been one of the best things to happen to me in quite some time. I met Ellie Goulding and saw her play a small show at Santos. I went to the Virgin Mobile FreeFest in Maryland and had my mind blown by Future Islands. M83 kept me warm that night in Maryland and so did Skrillex. I saw The Walkmen in D.C. I danced my face off when Grimes and Blood Diamonds played "Phone Sex" together at the Capitol Hill Block Party in Seattle. I saw Lana Del Rey at Irving Plaza during her residency there and I never felt more alive. How to Dress Well covered Janet Jackson's "Again" and I listened to it more times than I care to admit. I got to see one of the best R&B singers of our generation. The Weeknd. Once at the Music Hall of Williamsburg where I felt I was at a Dashboard Confessional show with all the cathartic sing-a-longs and acoustic guitars. The second time I saw him, his track with Drake had blown up on the radio and he sold out Terminal 5. Those cathartic moments turned into a few fights, intoxicated dudes and lighters lighting up the entire venue. I saw Sigur Rós in Prospect Park and heard "212" on the rooftop of some hotel in Manhattan during Gay Pride and everything felt aligned. I got to hear "Everything is Embarrassing" be performed twice in one week, on the same stage, by two different artists. The first was Sky Ferreira during a CMJ showcase and the next was Blood Orange who was opening up for Grimes. Dev Hynes liked my Instagram photos of him and I swooned. I saw Sky again at Glasslands and she evoked Courtney Love in her fog and laser show. I don't pop my cork for every man I see... I saw My Brightest Diamond at Stony Brook University. It felt strange to be on campus again. It made me nostalgic for lectures, papers and my awesome literature professors. MS MR blew me away with "Hurricane" and Elena Tonra of Daughter pulled at every heartstring I had. Strings I didn't know I still had. I was introduced to Solange and saw her at Bowery Ballroom, where her sister Beyonce showed up to support her. Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney and St. Vincent were there as well!

But 2012 wasn't filled with all good music. Garbage disappointed me and I thought Shirley Manson shouldn't have given "Red Lips" to Sky Ferreira. Alanis, what happened? Your last record was heart wrenching! Please don't get me started on MDNA. Hipster Runoff said it best about Bethany Cosentino's new album, "New Best Coast song sounds like a parody of a Best Coast song." "The Only Place" and the rest of the album were too produced and too mediocre. She lost that dark lo-fi edge from those earlier EPs. I gave her a pass on “Crazy for You” but I’m done with her. Bloc Party's "Four" just sounded like noise to me. I bet it hits its stride lyrically, but that would require subjecting myself to the noise. I tried Tame Impala and I don't understand Alabama Shakes appeal. I enjoyed DIIV's "Doused" but everything else bored me.

As I read all of these "Best Records of 2012" lists, I am still finding new music I haven't heard before. It's nearly impossible to keep up with it all. There is so much good music out there and it's overwhelming. With that in mind, please excuse my narrow-minded list below. Just today I was introduced to two different artists that I'm currently swooning over. Epic45 and Malcolm Middleton's new project Human Don't Be Angry. I can't keep up! Also, please disregard the numbers next to the albums listed below. They are meaningless. They are also subject to change at any given moment. How do you even compare a ridiculously catchy pop song like Marina and The Diamonds' "How to Be a Heartbreaker" to anything off of Sigur Rós' "Valtari?" It's not possible. So, without further ado here are the albums and EPs that soundtracked my year.

Best EPs of 2012


10. MS MR- Candy Bar Creep Show


09. Blood Diamonds- Phone Sex


08. Azure Ray- As Above So Below


07. Azealia Banks- 1991


06. Charli XCX- You're the One


05. Solange- True


04. Icona Pop- Iconic


03. Sky Ferreira- Ghost


02. Daughter- The Wild Youth


01. Lana Del Rey- Paradise



Best Records of 2012

50. Barcelona- Not Quite Yours


49. Garbage- Not Your Kind of People


48. Nicki Minaj- Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded


47. Paul Banks- Banks


46. Freelance Whales- Diluvia


45. Poliça- Give You the Ghost


44. Patrick Wolf- Sundark and Riverlight


43. Why?- Mumps, Etc.


42. Imperial Teen- Feel the Sound


41. Grizzly Bear- Shields


40. Muse- The 2nd Law


39. Imagine Dragons- Night Visions


38. Rihanna- Unapologetic


37. Merchandise- Chidlren of Desire


36. Crystal Castles- (III)


35. Santigold- Master of My Make-Believe


34. Niki + The Dove- Instinct


33. Zedd- Clarity


32. Julie Doiron- So Many Days


31. Xiu Xiu- Always


30. iamamiwhoami- kin


29. Mount Eerie- Clear Moon


28. Sleigh Bells- Reign of Terror


27. How to Dress Well- Total Loss


26. Beach House- Bloom


25. Sigur Rós- Valtari


24. Sucré- A Minor Bird


23. Neil Halstead- Palindrome Hunches


22. Calvin Harris- 18 Months


21. Azealia Banks- Fantasea


20. Kendrick Lamar- good kid, m.A.A.d city


19. Trust- Trst


18. Cold Specks- I Predict a Graceful Expulsion


17. Purity Ring- Shrines


16. Cat Power- Sun


15. Jessie Ware- Devotion


14. Bat For Lashes- The Haunted Man


13. Sharon Van Etten- Tramp


12. The xx- Coexist


11. Twin Shadow- Confess


10. Japandroids- Celebration Rock


09. Marina and The Diamonds- Electra Heart


08. Chromatics- Kill for Love


07. Ellie Goulding- Halcyon


06. Grimes- Visions


05. Frank Ocean- Channel Orange


04. The Weeknd- Trilogy


03. Perfume Genius- Put Your Back N 2 It


02. Fiona Apple- The Idler Wheel...


01. Lana Del Rey- Born to Die

Christmas is one week early! One of my favorite bands of all time covered one of my favorite Christmas songs ever. Just last week, I was telling Facebook and Twitter that a band (or artist) hasn't made it until they covered a Christmas song (or wrote an original). I was referring to Lana Del Rey. The xx must have heard me because I woke up this morning to an early Christmas gift from Fake Walls.

The XX decided to cover Wham's classic "Last Christmas" on BBC One's Live Lounge. Their take is everything you would expect from these minimalists. Instead of filling a space, they seem to always figure out a way to coexist within that space and use its emptiness in their favor. The hushed vocals from Romy Madely Croft and Oliver Sim will sadden your already depressing holiday. But what would the holidays be without a deep depression, candy canes and all the loneliness you could ask for? Jamie xx fills Wham's love song disguised as a Christmas song with irresistible beats. But there is one synth sound whose echo aches louder than any synth that has ever graced an xx song. These three must be home for the holidays and things don't seem very merry on the other side of the Atlantic. They don't even ring any sleigh bells.

Merry Christmas!



The xx- Last Christmas (Wham! Cover)