'Twas the Night Before ACLFest...

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's the majority of what my inner dialogue consists of when I've got nothing packed the night before a morning flight.

Nothing's different about this night. My flight to Austin leaves at 9:30 tomorrow morning, and I only just now got the smorgasbord of clothing for the weekend (most of which I won't wear) rolled into my suitcase. As per usual, there are several other items on my checklist that need attention by the time I head out in seven hours, and I'm just trusting that they'll get done. They always do.

So here we are! The second weekend of the Austin City Limits Festival is upon us. I feel pretty bizarre right now, observing the prospect of what lay before me; I've never been to a festival this size--with this many bands I feel moderate to severe affection for--much less gone alone! But shoots, I thrive on solo adventures. Texas 'bout to get messed.

But then for all the excitement I feel, I'm equally sad to be away from my son for four days. I know he'll be having a jolly time with his dad, but I've never been away from him that long, and I am totally buggin! He's the best! Don't be surprised if I sad-post late at night when I'm crying into my pillow.

Of course there are any number of reasons why I could be crying this weekend. As I prepare for this half-country trip, sifting through the bullshit that such a thing entails, I've at times forgotten my true purpose for this weekend: seeing some fantastic shows. Depeche Mode tomorrow night, for example. The Cure on Saturday, Atoms for Peace on Sunday. These are just the headliners I've chosen, by the by, and there will be much merriment to be had long before each of them go on late in the evening. And in case you were wondering: yes I'm still resentful that Depeche and Muse are scheduled at the same time. Theoretically I will be able to catch the last half hour of Muse's set once DM finishes, sooo we'll just see how that plays out.

There are actually a few schedule conflicts like that which might cramp my style (Saturday afternoon is going to be a right clusterfuck until I drop everything for Grimes at 5:00), but I am confident that all will unfold with perfect wisdom. Cuz all is a full of love, muthafuckas.

I'm tired of talking, you're tired of reading. Let's go to bed and wake up and go to Texas. Goodnight.

p.s. If you want to follow along this weekend, watch the official webcast! Dig!

I Don't Know What "Pour It Up" Means, But I Like It

Three things are clear about Rihanna's new video "Pour It Up": she loves money, she loves strippers, and she loves herself. But considering the way the Internet has totally lost its damn mind over this, apparently these things weren't obvious before.

But seriously: the atmosphere of "Pour It Up" is so different from every other stripper-themed pop video, from Rihanna's dual role as customer/stripper to the focus on the mad athleticism of the dancers to the total absence of men. I was going to say "blaring absence," but it's not blaring; it didn't even occur to me that there are no men in the video until someone else pointed it out. It's because Rihanna holds down this really legit masculine/feminine thing where neither seems to be lacking.

She doesn't just put herself aside on this gold motherfucking throne and say "I got the money, dance bitches," this dominating war cry that other women in pop have started to do. By also getting on the pole, she both works for and makes it rain on herself, a vast distinction from this idea that there is no strength in receiving attention and workin' it, that women must be like men (like men in thigh highs and Louboutins?) to be considered strong in this world.

Or maybe she just really wanted to be a stripper surrounded by other badass strippers and totally ball it out. Whatevs! I just know that it takes a serious goddamn woman to wear a denim thong. At least it's high-waisted. Totally in right now.

3 Easy Core-Centered Ways to Instantly Boost Your Mood, Your Confidence, and Your Sex Life

It's no question our culture is saturated with unhealthy messages of what beauty and confidence are: if only we were Hollywood's current idea of bodily perfection or we had a hit record or a million bucks in the bank, we would have something to smile about. Real confidence is a state of mind which is much broader and far more accessible than that, not an exclusive premium for a certain type of person. 

So here we go, just three easy ways to instantly amplify your happy thoughts and your sense of security in who you are. It's only as I was editing this that I realized these are all related to your core (abdominals and back, the root of your strength and self-awareness). Go figure!

1. DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME 10 

I know, exercise isn’t the easiest or sexiest way to start this list, but bear with me. We all know a regular workout is essentially to a healthy life, but it's easy to get intimidated by everything they say you "need" to do to get that "bikini body" and anything less just isn't worth your time. I am a firm believer that every little bit counts (and that a rock-hard bikini bod isn't the goal for everyone).

Quick fix: Sometimes we need a little lift but don’t have the time or desire to get full-on Jillian Michaels with it. I know! Getting down and doing a few push-ups (10-20, depending on your fitness level) and/or some *ab work will give you more energy, flush your skin with a little color, and help clear your mind. It may even stop junk food cravings in its tracks!

*I am a huge fan of core work. Whenever I’m feeling just blah I like to fire up my abs for some zest. Here are a couple of my favorite ab routines from Blogilates.

2. PELVIC-BELLY ORGASMIC ROCKSTAR BREATH 

Now you're paying attention! I've heard it called a few different things, but I don't think this breathing exercise has an official name because it serves, like, every purpose. It's that awesome. This breath is IMO one of the quickest and most powerful things you can do to feel stronger, more in tune, and more confident in your body and mind.

You are probably already familiar with the yogic breath: Take a slow stream of air into the depths of your belly first, and as you exhale, empty the belly last. In the Pelvic-Belly variation, bring your attention to your pelvic floor (your genitals) as you inhale, and as air fills your belly, imagine it filling the space in your pelvis as well. Allow all those root muscles (or “bathroom muscles”) to relax and expand. As you exhale, begin to squeeze back up and in, deep into the core of your contracting belly, and hold it as tight as you can before inhaling and opening again. This can feel a little awkward at first, but just keep practicing it and you will find control in the rhythm.

Quick fix: After just a few of these breaths you may begin to feel more grounded, less anxious, and more decisive. Not to mention conditioning those pelvic muscles increases your sexual energy and range of sensation! Try it. Win at life.

3. STAND UP STRAIGHT 

We've heard it all our lives. But what does that really mean and why is it important? There is more to good posture than meets the eye.

So go ahead, stand up. Notice your posture. Are you standing tall, open, and confident or are you hunched slightly (or a lot), your heart collapsed? How does it feel? How does it look? Adjusting the way you stand and walk has a tremendous effect on the way you see the world and how the world sees you.

Quick fix: Arms at your sides, balance your weight evenly on both feet. Roll your shoulders onto your back (imagine the circular rotation of your shoulder is a clock; if your shoulders fall forward at sort of a 9:00 position, crank them up over the 12:00 and back to a 3:00). Relax your arms away from your neck; your chest opens, your spine straightens.

Not done yet! Now notice your hips. If they’re tilted way back, you’ll see your spine is overextended, jutting your belly out, and your chest and butt are basically poppin’ it like it’s hot (which is really about as hot as a lopsided duck). Engage your lower abs as you scoop your pelvis under and forward so your spine flows more evenly into your hips. Hey, look! Your abs are even looking flatter! You should feel stable here; this is the foundation from which you can elongate and truly express your spine. This is the dancer and model look.

When you train yourself to start standing and walking like this more often, I guarantee your perspective will change. I used to be shy and lacking in confidence, hunching my shoulders and staring at the ground as I walked. Once I started standing tall, looking forward, my heart open to the world, the world itself began to open its heart to me.

Some people confuse confidence with arrogance. The way I see it, arrogance is just another barrier; confidence is a way of crossing those barriers. When you feel strong and secure in your body and your mind (if only for a day, an hour, a minute!), you are radiating confidence. This is what assures not only yourself but everyone around you that “I’m okay, you’re okay, it’s all okay.” This is a mighty gift to share!

With a regular “confidence practice” you can navigate any situation with comfort and grace (yeah, even sex!). Cultivate it within yourself, and everything around you will be affected.   

Oh, but if all else fails: tequila shots.

Love is Our Resistance: Muse in Charlotte

By the time I'd settled into my seat at the Time Warner Cable Arena, Cage the Elephant's opening set was nearly over. I was only as familiar with them as a handful of singles, i.e. 2008's "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked," but with their third album in five years due next month, shows what I know. 

I prudently sipped my $10 beer and set my senses upon this band of merry men. Well, one merry man at least: the effect of frontman Matt Schultz, a lively blonde fellow donning track pants and no shirt, complemented their grimy, funky punk sound. Schultz jumped and jammed across the stage, slithering around his guitarists (there seemed to be tons of them), at times rocking too hard to remember lyrics. He had to be either really drunk or really sober; you know that fine line? (I would find out later that the answer was indeed "really drunk.") 

Schultz punctuated their set with an impressive standing crowd surf, like one of those people who balance on dolphins' noses. Shit yeah rock & roll. I'll probably buy their upcoming album. 

Time between bands was an aching eternity of over-caffeinated surrealism. I had been in the car for two hours with energy shots and a strange mix of XM radio stations: I'll just say Ricky Martin showed up more than once. I needed to move, to dance, to spread my fingers to the sky. I needed the fire of anger and love. I needed Muse.

And then, from the heavens, there they were. 

Not in Charlotte, but fucking hell

An extravagant crimson set piece, row after row of video screens seemingly influenced by the Devo dome, began its descent from the ceiling as pyrotechnic smoke shot like geysers in front of the stage. The three dark figures behind their instruments turned it right up to 11 with a dubstep-soaked instrumental track off the current album The 2nd Law, then slammed into the heavy-hitting, Zeppelin inspired "Supremacy."

In a candy red jacket and black pants, lead singer/guitarist/pianist/songwriter Matthew Bellamy led the way through an exhilarating, spot-on set. Chris Wolstenholme brought the wild metal bass lines, my bones pulsed with drummer Dominic Howard's crashing rock mantras. A setlist comprised of genre-bending new material as well as plenty of their older shit-stomping hits was making for a very satisfying experience indeed.

Again, not in Charlotte, but there's Matt Bellamy in a red jacket

That's not to say the band was in a particularly exploratory mood. With no solos or embellishments outside of original studio incarnations to speak of, they kind of shut up and played the hits. I hate to call it a fluffer show because this was my first Muse show and I did have such an incredible time, but I could feel a cool distance, an indicator that that really sweet symbiosis between artist and audience wasn't quite clicking. You know, when they're into it and the crowd's into it and everybody knows it and the secrets of the universe are revealed. Granted, these guys have been on the road for about a year straight, and not every show can be a Glastonbury. 

What puzzled me even more than the GA floor being half-empty (even after my repeated attempts to secure floor tickets--rude!) was the lack of what I assumed were now obligatory big screens in arenas, on which one can see the band's faces even in the highest reaches of the venue. At big shows it is even more important to me to discern their expressions, their sweat. In fact Matt, Chris, and Dom's faces were lost in darkness when they weren't flashing epileptically across the cluster of smaller screens. The disconnect of this combined with the fact that they engage in zero onstage banter (if you didn't know they were British you wouldn't have known that night, they spoke so seldomly), gnawed at me.

That disappointment aside, I did enjoy my spot because there was no one near me within arm-flailing distance. So I just went nuts. While some concertgoers are sit-and-thinkers, I am a jumper. And a shout-singer. And a jazzy Jesus hand-waving fist pumper. I am not ashamed.

After these last couple weeks with the situation in Syria and the ongoing awareness that the bones of truth are buried deeply underground, I turned within and offered my body up for a true catharsis. This communion--with the art we love, with each other, with ourselves--is the kind of power that conquers. Replacing rigidity with flexibility, conformity with creativity, fear for love, incendiary bombs for incendiary guitar solos: shit, this is how we rule the world!      

Gawwwwd Depeche Mode is gonna be so fun. ACL Fest is gonna be so fun!* Concerts are so fun! LIFE IS SO FUN! 

*When I'm not cursing the name of whoever scheduled DM and Muse at the same time. 

***

Highlights: Going balls out during "Stockholm Syndrome" and the anthemic "Knights of Cydonia" and "Uprising." "United States of Eurasia" was also particularly welcome, as it fits my keen appreciation for poignancy. I do wish they had made any comments at all about the subject matter, ya know, considering the highly political nature of their work and America's impending foray into yet another one of "these wars [that] can't be won."  

Lowlights: The slow audience and what I assume is the band's indifference to Charlotte, NC (can't blame 'em) made for a slightly stale atmosphere; beers that cost $10.

Fun fact: I intimately familiarized myself with all six of Muse's studio albums in about two weeks' time. 

Setlist:

The 2nd Law: Unsustainable

Supremacy

Panic Station

Supermassive Black Hole

Plug in Baby

Resistance

Star Spangled Banner interlude

Hysteria

Knights of Cydonia

Monty Jam

United States of Eurasia

Follow Me

Liquid State

Madness

Time is Running Out

Undisclosed Desires

Stockholm Syndrome

Agitated

The 2nd Law: Isolated System

Encore:

Uprising

Starlight

Survival

Tracks I would not have kicked out of bed: Map of the Problematique, Sing for Absolution, Citizen Erased, anything from Showbiz album

xx

DON'T BOMB SYRIA! We MEAN IT This Time!

We are not seriously going to do this again.

I want to see the "undeniable" evidence Obama's peeps keep talking about, that the Syrian government is indeed responsible for the gruesome chemical attacks on thousands of its own people last week. Because so far, I ain't seen shit. There is, on the other hand, some alarming evidence to the contrary. 

Really though, fuck if I know. I am a proficient rock historian and a snappy dresser, not an expert on the aesthetics of WMDs. Also, there are no English translations on these videos.

But I can smell bullshit, like when the US government is lying through its teeth to evoke an emotional response from us in order to carry out its selfish, fruitless agendas. Feeling a strong sense of déjà vu here. It doesn't take expertise to know that the UN Security Council has not completed its investigation into the attacks and that a hasty bombing on the Syrian people would be the wrong fucking move. "More death to stop death!" I am so sick of this twisted logic. 

Here's a really insightful interview with Syrian president Bashar al-Assad on the current situation and his thoughts on Western intervention. He asserts that the Syrian Army had no role in the horrifying chemical attacks and that it's a "politicized" and emotional accusation, not one which is based on fact or evidence, and that if the Western powers (i.e. 'Merrica) choose to intervene for their own self-centered interests, they will regret it. Now I don't know how deep the rabbit hole goes on this guy, but I don't like the sound of that!

So there's that. Again, I repeat: I don't know anything for sure because this is complicated and messy, but I want the truth, and we Americans deserve to know if our government plans to drag us into yet another insidious war. Until we know what's going on I have absolutely no interest in blindly getting behind the bombs.

WTF moment, for funsies: The US government condemns terrorism when it doesn't suit their interests and supports it when it does. A couple years ago we were fighting Al-Qaeda in Iraq and now we and our allies are funding them in Syria. Tricksy corrupted governmentses.

I'm going back to blogging about music now; this shit is exhausting.

Speaking of, to feed the conspiratorial and heavy metal-loving aspects of myself, I'm going to see Muse for the first time next Tuesday! I have my own interpretation of this song which I think serves the purpose of this post, but either way this video is fucking killer and you should know it:

QUICK QUIZ! Where's Syria?

xx

iTunes, I'm Breaking Up With You. Amazon Cloud Player, Gimme Some Sugar

MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED. Shortly after its 10th anniversary I am now officially filing my divorce papers from the emotionally abusive clutches of iTunes. I've met a younger, smarter, more smokin' hot digital music player. His name is Amazon Cloud*.

I know, I realize I'm a little behind on this. That's been happening to me a lot lately. But everyone's gotta start somewhere, and for me it started--oh gee--I guess 10-15 years ago when Napster, Limewire, Kazza and the other old school pirating programs were all the rage but consequently getting shut down. Of course those sites had their problems, but because I was an early fan of pirating and still support the movement (oh RELAX, two or three Cease and Desist letters later, I'm essentially retired from the game), I wasn't super fond of iTunes, this big man on campus who in the wake of the chaos came flouncing in, demanding everybody's lunch money and giving tons of wedgies.

Well, in all honesty, as a 15 or 16-year-old at the time, I probably didn't think much of these issues, but I do know that it took me a long time to get on board with iTunes which, okay, I know full well has been a galvanizing force in music culture and one which many people obviously enjoy. But I also think it's an exclusive, at times confusing and monopolistic program with cumbersome processes.

When I discovered the Amazon Cloud Player just a month or so ago, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally another big program to counter the vise grip iTunes has had on the industry's balls. I downloaded the app to my phone and immediately enjoyed the ease at which I can buy an album from Amazon and have it already there on my universally-accessible cloud player, which I then have the option to download automatically to my phone and/or computer so I can play it even when I don't have internet access. It's all so organized and pretty and easy to use. Ahhhh young love. 

Not that iTunes doesn't have a similar feature now, but it still requires all that goddamn syncing and dragging bullshit that never seems to go smoothly for me, and I even have an iPhone. I'm pretty sure iTunes is still not compatible with Android. Also, I recently experienced the death of a computer, resulting in the loss of all my music. I'm actually not too upset by that because a lot of it was pirated anyway (I did try to keep the pirating to big name artists/bands that are no longer touring and/or alive), and I'm happy to have the incentive now to buy it all back and make a fresh start (everyone loves a nice tale of redemption). But if I had bought and lost that whole week's worth of music, I would be PISSED. Then again, I could be totally missing something here about the Cloud capabilities of iTunes, but at the core of it, I just don't care enough. I know there is another way.

One thing I am curious to explore is how easy and practical it is to transfer music not purchased from Amazon into the app (phone and PC). Amazon Cloud Player allows for up to 250 non-Amazon songs in your playlist (~20 albums) as well as an unlimited number of Amazon-purchased songs. That should do**.

*Really hot name for an actual human.

**Keeping in mind I will continue to support independent record stores as well as experiment with alternative music sources like Bandcamp.

This is me right now, like Freddie Mercury bodysurfing over a bunch of tripped out people in leotards:

xx

That NSYNC Reunion Was Some Bullshit...Bitch

This began as a single tweet. Then I realized I needed more room to breathe, so I moved to Facebook status. But fuck it, I'm now dedicating a whole blog post to this atrocity because I'm so mad about it. But I'll keep it short because really, none of this matters.

The *highly anticipated NSYNC "reunion" performance at the VMAs tonight turned out to be all of two minutes out of Justin Timberlake's 17-minute Superbowl performance-style medley (I think he was receiving some kind of early middle-age Lifetime Achievement award? No? Then...what?). 

The four former members of NSYNC appeared in one camp of JT's multi-stage festival performance in what was at first a sort of heavenly light to join Justin for part of his song "Girlfriend," and the scraps of the remaining minute was left to the group's 2000 hit "Bye Bye Bye." This turned out to be just a dance breakdown and one chorus of the song, during which they did a lot of sumo squats in too-tight suits and distracting stage lighting. When Justin had had enough of that he literally sent them underground so he could continue being the famous one.

Don't get me wrong, I think Justin Timberlake is swell. I love The 20/20 Experience. I'm glad he exists. But I also loved the best boy band ever (yeah, NSYNC!) so WTF was this awful experience about and why are so many people into it? This was an enormous waste of time, and my nostalgic tween heart of the late '90s can't take it. I just want to do this to whoever came up with this stupid, cruel idea.

Highlight: At the very end poor JC took his "baby baby baAabehhhh" moment, for which he will no doubt pay dearly.  

*Actually, I didn't know anything about this until it was happening. VMA tweets kept getting mixed in with Breaking Bad ones.