It was like Santa Claus had come to Urban Outfitter. Hordes of ecstatic sixteen-year-old girls all dressed in jeans, heels and camisoles while carrying plastic Ramones handbags infiltrated The Echo prior to Hang the DJs last night. They huddled together in crowds as lightbulbs flashed. I looked to see what could cause such a commotion.
Rooney played a special fanclub show earlier that evening and, blood being thicker than water, Jason Schwartzman was in attendance. He was a tiny, scruffy creature virtually swallowed by the crowd of gawky soon-to-be hipsters and he looked to enjoy every minute of it.
"Yes, I know. He was in a movie," said the security guard over the microphone. "Now go outside and get his autograph."
Three minutes later, another security guard took the mic. "I Heart Huckabees, now leave the club."
I would love to say that the highlight of the night was my kickass set, but, sadly that is not the case. In fact, it was a band from San Francisco who stole the show. Von Iva puts every other keyboard-heavy rock band to shame, including the heavy-hitters like Le Tigre and The Faint.
"But, Liz, how is that even possible?" you ask.
Simply put, Von Iva has soul. Deep, dirty, hard-rockin' soul. One of my cohorts described singer Jillian Iva as "Mick Jagger with tits," which may sound offensive to some, but is a completely apt description. She has the swagger and the high kicks and the raised-on-the-blues voice. Any rock critic who has spent the last few decades naming heirs to Jagger's throne should stop wasting time on the boys. The New Mick is a chick so fierce that she can command the crowd to let her run over the band's allotted time, who can convince this cynic to run to the merch booth and buy an album. Some people are born to be rock stars. Jillian Iva is one.