Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Oh, You Pretty Thing:



Today I bought tickets on eBay for Hanson's acoustic gig at the Roxy this Saturday. I gotta represent, yo. I mean, at one time these kids were the biggest stars in pop music. After their second, misdirected album tanked, I guess their label dropped them. i tell ya. These labels have no brains AND no sense of loyalty. If the label hadn't made them fire Ric Ocasek and lamify the production, it might have been a really interesting album. They were trying to grow up and rock out and be normal 18 year olds. Anyway, I still think they're the smartest, cutest 20 year olds around and I love their spirit. They are so into music. So into it. And so weirdly conscious of the poignant beauty of pop hookery. They're going to be a band forever, whether or not anyone buys their records. A few years ago i read they wanted to sound like the Raspberries and Big Star. I take a teensy bit of credit for that, as I've blabbed to anyone I've ever met. (i gave them their first Big Star record.) Of course, that was three years ago, and you know kidds: They wanna be someone different every two minutes. It's very possible they will sound like Blues Traveler. Crossed with the Go-Go's.



I'm still digging "Frontin'" by Pharrell and Jay-Z. But I'm just generally digging the Beat (100.3). Today, the morning DJ, Steve Harvey, made me weep on the freeway, and I knew I was PMS-ing. He gave a lovely little speech about confidence. He said, if you don't have the confidence or the kind of brain that sets grandiose goals, don't worry about it. Just set little goals. If you can't picture yourself five years from now, picture tomorrow. Just make little pictures. He said, inch by inch, anything's a cinch.



Since I am not a big-goal person at all, and I shiver at five-year plans, this felt like deep wisdom.



Radio still makes me cry sometimes. I wish all radio was like that.



After his speech finished, it segued into that song that goes, "is there any more room for me in those jeans?" Black radio is fun. The Beat is a lot closer to old-school black radio than Power-106. Every afternoon Spinderella does the drivetime show with this dude. She kicks ass.



Tonight I had my first scary police-search experience in my new hood. There were five helicopters hovering over the street near me, shining their lights all over the houses and trees for about 20 minutes. It was terrifying. L.A. is a rough place. I made my landlords promise to get deadbolts all over the property, even if they don't do anything but make you fumble for your keys at night. At least my landlords live on the property with me.



I saw a picture or Har Mar Superstar making out with Kate Moss. Har Mar is a great old-fashioned mall in Roseville, a suburb of Minneapolis, and it is the best place to see a movie. I wonder if those two are actually dating? That would make Kate Moss seem more interesting to me. I'm not much into Har Mar but I liked his old bands.



Right, then. The train whistle is blowing across the canyon and that means it's bedtime. Sorry I've been absent--I was in minneapolis for eight days working on my thing and all. I was psychically engulfed. Now I'm back.



Love,

Kate



No comments: