Ahh...summer in Brooklyn. The humidity. The roofs that I can't climb up to. The throngs of scabbed and pasty white legs fitted with dirty white slip-on shoes. The waddling down Bedford. The shows!
This has been the summer I've looked forward to more than any other. This summer, I have weekends off! Hooray for no more working in retail! Croquet, fairs, shows, picnics....I can do it all! I get to sit and watch people sip mimosas and sangria and not touch any of it. Oh joy of joys.
Although summer is almost half way done, and fall is just around the corner, I decided to document the shows that I've seen so far. Since this is a preggo blog though, I'm gonna take it all the way back to conception...to frigid January. After I pop, I'll have the full show listing so that when Li'l Hazard is all grown up, he can be stoked at having been to so many amazing performances.
Li'l Hazard's first show? Peter, Bjorn and John's secret show (and first show ever in the US!) at Union Hall playing as "At the Seaside!"--Amazing show.
-El Perro del Mar - I've played with dust that was more fun than this show.
-Blonde Redhead w/Fields - Fields, eh. BR? Fabulous.
-Jesus and Mary Chain (missed opening band since Hubby & pal were doing shots)
-Hungry Marching Band @ Don't Demo the Domino - Does that count? It was fun, tho!
-A Sunny Day in Glasgow - The show where Li'l Haz started kicking!
-Panda Bear - Made me really miss smoking pot. Brilliant.
-Television w/Dragons of Zynth & Apples in Stereo - DoZ are awful. Living Color and Fishbone are so much better. Missed Television & AiS because of impending thunderstorm.
-Superchunk w/others - First McCarren show. Marty Markowitz sighting! Annoying people! Surprisingly clean port-o-potties! Good hot dogs, thanks Sparky's!
-Bat for Lashes - see below.
We almost saw Happy Mondays but that show got canceled due to visa problems.
What's next for Li'l Haz? This weekend is TV on the Radio w/Celebration at McCarren. Stereo Total next month, perhaps? Who knows!?
What was your first show as a tyke? Mine? George Michael and The Bangles, Faith Tour 1988, Orange Bowl - Miami. Holla! It was my 11th birthday present. I still have the t-shirt!
Friday, July 27, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Bat for Lashes
One thing that hasn't changed in my pregnancy is my love of music and my need to see a good show. I'm constantly exposed to music because I work from home and share an office with my dear husband who also works at home. He, working for a record store, is constantly listening to music. I'm usually his barometer for seeing if something is good or bad. If he gets: "what's this?", I like it...or I'll like it at least for a few seconds. If he gets: "what the fuck are you listening to?", I don't like it...and more often than not, it's some obscure late 60s Japanese psych prog band that had one pressed album of 45 copies released and in turn, apparently influenced everything I've ever listened to. He doesn't seem to understand that this doesn't make it good to me.
Recently, he discovered this youtube video that he really loved. He was on point this time...it was great. It was the video Bat for Lashes "What's a Girl To Do?" Here, I'll make it easy for you:
She's a fan of Donnie Darko, can you tell? Good, right? And how conveeeeeeenient that she was about to play a show at the Knitting Factory. Guest list!
We got there early. For the first time in our lives, we were one of the first people to arrive at a show--it was still daylight. We waited about 20 minutes for the opening act...if you could call it that. Now, usually, I'm the opinionated angry bitch who hates everything. Last night's honors went to dear, sweet hubby. Granted, Pepi Ginsberg is NOT good. I will never listen to her again, but she wasn't offensive. Hubby was angry. Like, I worried for her life kind of angry.
We were scared. We'd seen the video for BFL, and listened to the album barely once or twice. What had we gotten ourselves into? My husband was on the verge of violence, my calves were cramping and li'l Hazard was bending it like Beckham in my uterus. We looked down from the balcony and noticed a sea of very early 20 something girls and very few boys. We felt old and not ironic enough. This was not good. This was not good at all.
The stage was being set...equipment being moved. One drum in front of a microphone. Another in front of a second microphone. Guitar. Violin. Another Violin. Keyboard. Was that a sampler in the corner? Eh? Some homie in a Sepultura shirt was doing mike checks. We were really hoping he was in the band. We were surprised he didn't kill Pepi. The awful alt-rock crap ceased and 4 glittery girls walked on stage, looking like they were about to be in a Beacon's Closet photo shoot. This was not good.
Natasha Kahn held up a chain of golden bells and began to sing in French. I decided I was no longer going to look at what they were wearing (torture!) and just listen. And they blew my fucking mind. This was good. This was very very good.
Song after song, these 4 ladies switched instruments back and forth and hooked me completely. Natasha's voice was perfect. The songs were incredible. Now, picture this: if Bjork made Homogenic almost completely organically but eliminate the Bjorkish wails, add tribal drums, add lots of gold and sequins, add a little Siouxsie for fun, then close your eyes and picture yourself in the middle of the forest where all the little creatures hanging around you are slightly dangerous, but totally glittery and fun. This is Bat for Lashes.
Unfortunately, my feet and calves really started to hurt and my belly kept bumping the balcony, so we left a little early. Regardless, my advise to you is: buy the album...and if BFL is ever playing a show near you...you *must* go.
Recently, he discovered this youtube video that he really loved. He was on point this time...it was great. It was the video Bat for Lashes "What's a Girl To Do?" Here, I'll make it easy for you:
She's a fan of Donnie Darko, can you tell? Good, right? And how conveeeeeeenient that she was about to play a show at the Knitting Factory. Guest list!
We got there early. For the first time in our lives, we were one of the first people to arrive at a show--it was still daylight. We waited about 20 minutes for the opening act...if you could call it that. Now, usually, I'm the opinionated angry bitch who hates everything. Last night's honors went to dear, sweet hubby. Granted, Pepi Ginsberg is NOT good. I will never listen to her again, but she wasn't offensive. Hubby was angry. Like, I worried for her life kind of angry.
We were scared. We'd seen the video for BFL, and listened to the album barely once or twice. What had we gotten ourselves into? My husband was on the verge of violence, my calves were cramping and li'l Hazard was bending it like Beckham in my uterus. We looked down from the balcony and noticed a sea of very early 20 something girls and very few boys. We felt old and not ironic enough. This was not good. This was not good at all.
The stage was being set...equipment being moved. One drum in front of a microphone. Another in front of a second microphone. Guitar. Violin. Another Violin. Keyboard. Was that a sampler in the corner? Eh? Some homie in a Sepultura shirt was doing mike checks. We were really hoping he was in the band. We were surprised he didn't kill Pepi. The awful alt-rock crap ceased and 4 glittery girls walked on stage, looking like they were about to be in a Beacon's Closet photo shoot. This was not good.
Natasha Kahn held up a chain of golden bells and began to sing in French. I decided I was no longer going to look at what they were wearing (torture!) and just listen. And they blew my fucking mind. This was good. This was very very good.
Song after song, these 4 ladies switched instruments back and forth and hooked me completely. Natasha's voice was perfect. The songs were incredible. Now, picture this: if Bjork made Homogenic almost completely organically but eliminate the Bjorkish wails, add tribal drums, add lots of gold and sequins, add a little Siouxsie for fun, then close your eyes and picture yourself in the middle of the forest where all the little creatures hanging around you are slightly dangerous, but totally glittery and fun. This is Bat for Lashes.
Unfortunately, my feet and calves really started to hurt and my belly kept bumping the balcony, so we left a little early. Regardless, my advise to you is: buy the album...and if BFL is ever playing a show near you...you *must* go.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
From Martinis to Maternity
If you would have asked me a year ago what I'd be doing right now..well, it certainly wouldn't be this. I was busy planning my September wedding, and definitely still being me: a little hazardous, but mostly a good girl.
Really, I should have heeded my grandma's warning last May when she very confidently told me that I should quit smoking so much and start taking pre-natal vitamins. She said I was going to be pregnant and have a boy within a year. And he'd be a violin player. I patted her head and reassured her that it was not happening any time soon. I had things to do: get married, plan my April honeymoon (Paris is expensive, so we had to wait), and uh, you know, relish in being a newlywed! Every few weeks she would ask me if I was taking folic acid, and each time I'd say "Mami, give me two years, then I'll have a baby." She'd say, "We'll see. I'm telling you."
February 2007:
Lesson one: Listen to grandma and her tarot cards.
I was a few weeks late. But, seeing as I don't really keep track of these things because my period is usually like clockwork, I really wasn't sure. I kept saying to myself that it was coming. My husband would say, "I think you're pregnant." To which I would, of course respond, "I am a woman, I understand my body. You're a boy, you know nothing of these things." Then he would repeat himself. And then I panicked. We'd always been so careful, so very good about it all!
I can't be. (denial)
There's no way. (serious denial)
How?! (duh)
Ohhhhhh.....that night....martinis....riiiiight. (gotcha)
I took a pregnancy test one afternoon, after my husband kept insisting that I was pregnant. (I mistook a stomach flu-like situation for morning sickness once, so I just happened to have a spare one at home.) I hadn't even stopped peeing on the stick and there was already a bright blue plus sign. Oh shit.
Husband's reaction: "I told you!" Followed by kisses and him swearing to me that he wasn't mad. (I thought he would be livid...having a kid wasn't exactly on his calendar yet.)
Mom's reaction: "FINALLY!" and even though I had just sworn her to secrecy, and told her to not tell anyone until I said it was okay....she screams to her office where my aunt, grandmother and cousin all work, "JESSICA'S PREGNANT!" Thanks mom.
Grandma's reaction: "Duh, I told you. Now what colors do you want for the blanket?"
Pregnancy actually came at an okay time in my life. I had quit smoking on January 1st because I had decided that my new name was "Health" and approaching my 30th birthday I wanted to look and feel hot. I had just joined a gym. I had actually quit drinking. Well, I forced myself due to too many martinis, vodka cranberries, black outs, dancing myself literally into the ground, falling (I'll save the stories about how I got stigmata one year and bashed my face in, losing part of my eyebrow 3 weeks before my wedding, for another time. Yeah, you can call me Class.), and picking fights. I lived up to my nickname for many years, but now Hazard is about to be a mom.
July 2007:
Fast forward. My boobs are HUGE. I can't get over them. I seriously can't wait to get rid of them either. They get in the way and I feel like a lactating porn star. My belly? Huger. Luckily, since I'm having a boy (aww li'l Hazard....God help me) the belly is going straight out and nowhere else. I'm 6 1/2 months pregnant, but I can still fit into my skinny jeans! Yes, granted they are ridiculously low cut, but humor me, I'm pregnant. These things make me feel better.
Last summer, I was planning my wedding. This summer, I'm helping out with planning my baby shower which shall be a co-ed luau. Can't deal with having too many chicks around me because I'll freak the fuck out. In the grand tradition of any sort of party with me involved, there will be plenty of drinking. Not by me, of course. But, if you are coming to my luau, be warned, your humiliation is my ultimate conquest. I may be big, but I'm still a terrorist.
Really, I should have heeded my grandma's warning last May when she very confidently told me that I should quit smoking so much and start taking pre-natal vitamins. She said I was going to be pregnant and have a boy within a year. And he'd be a violin player. I patted her head and reassured her that it was not happening any time soon. I had things to do: get married, plan my April honeymoon (Paris is expensive, so we had to wait), and uh, you know, relish in being a newlywed! Every few weeks she would ask me if I was taking folic acid, and each time I'd say "Mami, give me two years, then I'll have a baby." She'd say, "We'll see. I'm telling you."
February 2007:
Lesson one: Listen to grandma and her tarot cards.
I was a few weeks late. But, seeing as I don't really keep track of these things because my period is usually like clockwork, I really wasn't sure. I kept saying to myself that it was coming. My husband would say, "I think you're pregnant." To which I would, of course respond, "I am a woman, I understand my body. You're a boy, you know nothing of these things." Then he would repeat himself. And then I panicked. We'd always been so careful, so very good about it all!
I can't be. (denial)
There's no way. (serious denial)
How?! (duh)
Ohhhhhh.....that night....martinis....riiiiight. (gotcha)
I took a pregnancy test one afternoon, after my husband kept insisting that I was pregnant. (I mistook a stomach flu-like situation for morning sickness once, so I just happened to have a spare one at home.) I hadn't even stopped peeing on the stick and there was already a bright blue plus sign. Oh shit.
Husband's reaction: "I told you!" Followed by kisses and him swearing to me that he wasn't mad. (I thought he would be livid...having a kid wasn't exactly on his calendar yet.)
Mom's reaction: "FINALLY!" and even though I had just sworn her to secrecy, and told her to not tell anyone until I said it was okay....she screams to her office where my aunt, grandmother and cousin all work, "JESSICA'S PREGNANT!" Thanks mom.
Grandma's reaction: "Duh, I told you. Now what colors do you want for the blanket?"
Pregnancy actually came at an okay time in my life. I had quit smoking on January 1st because I had decided that my new name was "Health" and approaching my 30th birthday I wanted to look and feel hot. I had just joined a gym. I had actually quit drinking. Well, I forced myself due to too many martinis, vodka cranberries, black outs, dancing myself literally into the ground, falling (I'll save the stories about how I got stigmata one year and bashed my face in, losing part of my eyebrow 3 weeks before my wedding, for another time. Yeah, you can call me Class.), and picking fights. I lived up to my nickname for many years, but now Hazard is about to be a mom.
July 2007:
Fast forward. My boobs are HUGE. I can't get over them. I seriously can't wait to get rid of them either. They get in the way and I feel like a lactating porn star. My belly? Huger. Luckily, since I'm having a boy (aww li'l Hazard....God help me) the belly is going straight out and nowhere else. I'm 6 1/2 months pregnant, but I can still fit into my skinny jeans! Yes, granted they are ridiculously low cut, but humor me, I'm pregnant. These things make me feel better.
Last summer, I was planning my wedding. This summer, I'm helping out with planning my baby shower which shall be a co-ed luau. Can't deal with having too many chicks around me because I'll freak the fuck out. In the grand tradition of any sort of party with me involved, there will be plenty of drinking. Not by me, of course. But, if you are coming to my luau, be warned, your humiliation is my ultimate conquest. I may be big, but I'm still a terrorist.
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