I've been acquainted with Mack Greenlaw, aka Macka, for a few years now through the club scene and numerous screenings of The Apple. I knew that the boy could dance and looked better in a bim than most people who would go to the NuArt on a Friday night, but not until yesterday, after receiving a bulletin from a mutual friend, did I know that Macka can sing too!
It took Macka four months of being cooped up in a closet with one keyboard to make his debut release, The Joke Involves Lying, and tomorrow night he will be performing his first ever show at The Gig. If the rest of the CD is like the songs he has posted on his My Space page, then we should all be in for a treat. Check out "That's More Like It," which shows off Macka's ability for songwriting in addition to some seriously sweet singing.
Macka: Live @ the Gig
7302 Melrose Ave.
Los Angeles, CA
May 8, 2005
Call 323.936.4440 for more info and ticket reservations.

Good news for fans of minimal-electro-wave, Job Leatherette is reopening M/R/X at the Parlour on May 12, 2005.

In addition to sets from Job and Adam Sixteen, Adam Lee Miller and Nicola Kuperus, aka Adult. , will be spinning a special set of tracks from their own label, Ersatz Audio, as well as rarities. The People are so there.

M/R/X @ The Parlour
May 12, 2005
7702 Santa Monica Blvd.
West Hollywood, CA

21+
$5

About a week ago, I got a few records back from my friend Carlos that I had been letting him borrow. One of these was my 12" of Soft Cell's "It's a Mug's Game". While I have the 7" version on my "Loving You, Hating Me" single, it just isn't the same. I don't know what it is about this song, and this particular version, but they just got everything right. David Ball throws down one of the hardest beats of 1982, and Marc Almond finds himself making fun of a teenager (a younger version of himself, maybe?). The whole song sounds like it was recorded in one pass, with its repetitive beat, and Almond's seemingly stream-of-conscious lyrics. Nothing rhymes, and most of the lines begin with the word "and," so that only the first lines of each verse seem like they were written. It's this kind of effortlessness that I find so great. Of course the lyrics were written. How else can the listener, over the course of the song, realize that the protagonist is actually a high school student (or the UK equivalent of high school) who for all of his fast living is actually afraid of getting grounded by his father?
Soft Cell also accomplished something else with this song, and that is making horns sound good in electronic dance music. Yes, I know they were strongly influenced by American soul records, and that might have something to do with it. Or maybe it was John Gatchell, the trumpet player in question. While his playing is always present, it never dominates the rest of the song. Producer Mike Thorne, on his website notes that Gatchell was one of the best session players in NY at the time, and just by being an outside influence, helped to ease some of the tension in the group at the time. Perhaps it was Thorne himself, the man behind the boards on every Soft Cell release from "Tainted Love" through "The Art of Falling Apart."
For me, Soft Cell's best period was the one between their first two LPs. The "Torch/Insecure Me" single and "Non-Stop Ecstatic Dancing" expanded on the first album perfectly, and "It's a Mug's Game" is like the end of an era. By the time of "The Art of Falling Apart", their sound had gotten too mopey for most of their listeners. This song is their last great dance song.

(Part Two of a Wednesday Night in Los Angeles)

What the DJ Wants, the new Wednesday night shindig hosted by sobriquet-bearing KXLU DJ Ned Lerner is one hell of a party. No, I'm not saying this because my partner in crime, Kid C., played a well-mixed set of old school hip-hop, or because I may in fact make a brief appearance behind those decks soon. The sign above the turntables best explains why this club is tops in my book.

"Please direct all requests to the traschcan."

Ned, you are my hero. You are a hero to every DJ who was ever threatened with violence because he/she was not going to play [insert heavily requested piece of crap here].

This may be the only club where you can hear anything from hip-hop to riot grrrl house to post-screamo or whatever. I think that the reason why this works so well is because Carbon is a barfly bar, not a hipster dancing bar. If you remember the Smell back when it was in North Hollywood, it is shaped in a similar fashion-- essentially, one long corridor (but without a stage blocking a direct route to the bathroom). There are approximately three square feet of space useful for dancing. I spent most of the night chatting with people I had either not seen in some time or just met. There's no cover, which is an added bonus, and the bartender poured my vodka tonics pretty stiff. Thus, this bar gets the PDP stamp of approval.

The next party is May 11, 2005 at Carbon (9300 Venice Blvd., cross street is Robertson). The line up is:
Dug Jones (Kittridge, kittnet.com)
Jean-Claude (Kxlu, Future Shock)
Chris Griffiths (Transistor)
Ned Learner (Kxlu, Instrumental)

I heard Jean-Claude spin a hip-hop set at his New Year's Eve party this year and it made me want to party a little too hard. He's also half of the Secret Name.

(The Story of a Wednesday Night in Los Angeles, Told in Two Parts.)

At the urging of my former roommate, Reagan, I tuned into Jack FM, the new 93.1 F.M. in Los Angeles, for the first time a few weeks ago. I am a radio junkie in constant search for a new fix because, outside of KXLU (full disclosure: I was a DJ there from 1995-1999 and Program Director from 1998-1999), Los Angeles radio is sad. It may be the largest radio market in the country, but, with eight Clear Channel stations, seven Infinity stations and six Entravision stations, there just isn't much in the way of variety. Jack, like KROQ, is part of the Infinity family, which makes it corporate. As a former college radio geek and current journalism grad student, I should hate the station solely for being part of the hegemonic power structure that allows music of the most banal variety to permeate into our collective consciousness. However, I don't hate Jack. In fact, I like it. I listen to it knowing full well that I will never hear something that is new or obscure, knowing that I will be able to sing along to every song played (regardless of whether or not I like it). I do appreciate, however, that Jack mixes together electronic music with heavy metal, hip-hop with punk, et cetera. The fact is, when I listen to Jack, I may know everything I hear, but I never know what will be played next (unlike KROQ, where I can tell you exactly when Sublime will be played).
Last night, I drove down Sepulveda to Kid C.'s place because it beats sitting in rush hour traffic at LAX and bobbed my head to David Bowie's "Fame." As I sat waiting to make my left turn at Rosecrans, I heard the familiar James Brown-meets-Malcolm McLaren collage.
"What d'ya expect? The guy's a gigolo, man."
Now, some may say that if the station was really cool, the DJs would bust out "You're My Kind of Climate" from Neneh Cherry's post-Slits, pre-solo band, Rip, Rig and Panic. Let's get serious, folks. You aren't going to hear Rip, Rig and Panic anywhere. Not even on college radio. I'm fully aware of the fact that I will only hear "You're My Kind of Climate" if I swipe Kid C.'s copy. It's okay. And, on an even more serious note, when was the last time you heard "Buffalo Stance" anywhere outside of your friends' house parties with the Dance Party USA theme? Not recently, I would assume is the answer. Sometimes, when I DJ, I will play "Buffalo Stance" and the record works as a gauge for the crowd. If the dancefloor is filled with those born after 1980, it will tank. If it's one of those rare occasions when the late-1970s kids who still club are out and about, it ends up being the highlight of the night, the song that makes everybody scream. "Buffalo Stance," like "Monie in the Middle," is one of those late-80s/early-90s jams that got lost in the shuffle of gangsta rap and grunge rock that dominated the charts post-1992 (notice, also, that both songs were performed by women, but that's the subject of another post or, more appropriately, a book).
As you can tell, I have the 12" of "Buffalo Stance." I'm pretty sure that there's a copy of Raw Like Sushi floating around in cassette form in my bedroom as well. I can listen to "Buffalo Stance" whenever the hell I want, so why should I even care that it's on the radio? When I choose to listen to the song in my room, I pull it from the sleeve, like figuratively pulling on a pair of bike shorts in anticipation for the beat to follow. In the car, though, I'm caught off guard. I scream, "Hell, yeah!" and pump up the volume. I do this knowing full well that I will piss off the South Bay Soccer Moms who object to the word "gigolo" in a song, who feel that this song interferes with their brats' viewing of The Lion King in the backseat of an SUV. They need to know, just as I need to reaffirm, that Neneh is fucking awesome.
"Y'know what I mean?"

The topic on My Space today: Your Top Ten Life Altering Albums. The albums that are perfect, that can drive you to tears, that have been with you throughout long nights of heartbreak, through August afternoons in Southern California where there is nothing to do but wipe the sweat from between your shoulder and bra strap. Narrowing it down to ten was actually not that hard for me because I have a ridiculously short attention span and rarely listen to albums from start to finish. I'm more of a 12" single girl. (With remixes, mind you. If I want a radio edit, I'll tape it off the radio.) This is my list, complete with comments. If you want to share yours, post in the Comments section.

1. The Smiths Strangeways Here We Come
Because everyone who claims that The Queen is Dead is the best Smiths album is wrong. Because you can hear the band breaking on the bridge of every song. Because "Death of a Disco Dancer" makes orange and black lights flicker on the back of my lids every time I close my eyes. Because "Unhappy Birthday" is the song we would put on answering machines of people we warred with as teenagers. Because "Paint a Vulgar Picture" shows the man obsessed with rock heroes in the exact same way I would grow obsessed with him. Because "I Won't Share You" will make you think that Morrissey is singing to Marr and this is the end.

2. The Cure Disintegration
Because it is the only album with the power to defeat the evil Barbra Streisand. Because I cannot listen to it in bits, it has to be start to finish. Because every song, no every second of every song, bleeds of 1989 and being a goth twelve-year-old who had never heard the term goth. Because it made me long for a musician boyfriend, or a writer boyfriend, and subsequently ruined my lovelife for the next decade. Because Robert could never top this album.

3. Depeche Mode Black Celebration
Because "Fly on the Windscreen" will always remind me of the ugliness that is summer in the San Fernando Valley. Because it is the album that made me look for something called industrial. Because these are Martin Gore's best lyrics ever. Because the earnestness with which the boys in Docs played "A Question of Lust" as rite of misfit teen courtship makes me chuckle.

4. Legendary Pink Dots Crushed Velvet Apocalypse
Because the title reminds me of the dresses I wore in high school. Because if you ever see the Pink Dots live, "Just a Lifetime" will make you cry. Because "Hellsville" will give you nightmares. Because "Princess Coldheart" is a fairytale waiting to take place on the floor of a goth club, but the band sounds more like Stereolab than Specimen. Because my friends and I listened to this almost daily throughout four years of college. Because if you have never heard of the Pink Dots, this is the album you have to get.

5. Trash Can Sinatras Cake
Because I would have gone crazy if I didn't have this cassette in my Walkman at school every day. Because I still have the cassette. Because it sounds more like the Smiths than anything Morrissey and Marr have done since. Because it reminds me that KROQ used to be a good station. Because every time TCS comes to LA, the shows sell out before I can get tickets.

6. New Order Power, Corruption, Lies
Because I knew all my friends would list Joy Division and I'm a jerk like that. Because Peter Hook is my all time favorite bassist. Because the band could have broke up, but didn't. Because "Blue Monday" was the rollerskating jam at Northridge Skateland that turned into the backdrop for my dance classes that made me want to DJ.

7. Soft Cell Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret
Because Marc Almond proves that dance music can have smart lyrics. Because it is the one essential album to rock while doing your make up before going to the club. Because, when I was six, my mom told me that "Tainted Love" was a cover and I didn't know what she meant. Because I actually heard the original when I was a teenager and was shocked that both versions were mindblowing, but completely different. Because life is a lot like "Bedsitter."

8. Huggy Bear Taking the Rough with the Smooch
Because Courtney put this on tape for me and I loved it so much that I bought my own copy. Because when you're seventeen and you hate the world, this album embodies every bit of shrieking rage. Because "Her Jazz" is more dance punk than any other band that lists "dance punk" as its sound. Because it made me want to start a zine.

9. Tears for Fears The Hurting
Because "Mad World" is the song I have to listen to every time I feel crazy. Because the way that "Mad World" bleeds into "Pale Shelter" is flawless. Because the keyboards on "Change" drive me wild. Because the voices reek of pain. Because the band plays up to its name.

10. David Bowie Heroes
Because nobody can be like David Bowie. Because synthpop may not have happened without this album. Because side 2 is really strange. Because everybody wants to be a hero just for one day.

And so, Paulie, the man who introduced L.A. to the way of the L Train is now returning to the town with the L Train (or, one of the towns: New York, not Chicago). His send-off bash is at this Saturday's Naked Lunch party. There will be tons of art, music and other cool stuff. If you have not yet witnessed the punk prowess of The Sharp Ease, this is your chance. I keep on missing Sterile Eden's (who are playing and promoting this party)shows, which makes me feel bad because I really love the songs posted on My Space. It sounds exactly as what you should expect to hear from kids who went to Helter Skelter back in 1995, but had the good sense to get out of the scene before they turned into the sort of dorks who look as if trapped in a Gene Loves Jezebel video (c. 1987) while turning Hot Topic bumper stickers into song titles. In other words, there is none of that vampyric rock shit here. It's creepy and electronic and makes me think of Virgin Prunes or Sex Gang Children on occasion. Also on the bill are Dirty Little Secret and Single Frame. Paulie, Raulie (82), Christopher (Fusion) and Maurice de la Falaise (Fancy) will be playing music all night and there is free booze (along with Astralwerks giveaways) between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m.
Naked Lunch
All Ages $8 Hangar 1018
1018 Santa fe Ave. Los Angeles, CA. 90021

The State of Floral Beings
We Know You Love Us and That's Why We Do This
Trewetha Records

A few weeks ago at a party, a Swedish friend was telling me about how she will say that she is from Sweden and people will mention Norway or Denmark. Those who are more astute will mention ABBA.
"Well, ABBA and Ace of Base."
"Hey, there's Roxette as well," I added. "Oh, and Europe."
I impressed myself with my knowledge of Swedish pop and tried to think of others, but then realized that the rest of the names floating through my head hailed from Norway. Or Denmark.
Now I have another Swedish band to add to the list.
Stockholm-based group, The State of Floral Beings (TSOFB) make music that would fall into that incredibly broad category of post-post-punk, but, thankfully, bears no resemblance to either Joy Division or Gang of Four. If you are one of those people who really needs to read a familiar reference in this quasi-review, think of the Faint circa Blank Wave Arcade-- all hyper energy and unusually aggressive keyboards. The guitars here are a lot heavier than what you might hear on the previously cited record, though, and the bass throbs like the soundrack to a film set in a seedy L.A. bar. (For the locals: Think of the tattered pool table and decrepit men at the Spike mixed with the dilapidated booths and filthy floor of the Echo and the grungy bathrooms of Fais Do Do.) Johan Bring has a deep, eerie voice that compliments the hard-rock, electro-punk madness herein. At sixteen tracks, We Know You Love Us... seems like a long CD, but few songs actually tip the three-minute mark. For people who like electronic music as much as rock, but dislike the overtly 1980s retro that seems so popular right now, check out TSOFB. As an added bonus, the packaging looks like a cross between Green Lantern and an old copy of Raygun Magazine. Good packaging is always a bonus.

I've been meaning to write a real article about this club for a while. But tonight is alternative karaoke night at Ground Control.

Yes, karaoke. Yes, I'm serious. Yes, it's actually fun.

If you're looking for something laid-back to do tonight that doesn't require a dress code or hipper-than-thou attitude, check out Ground Control at Jewel's Catch One. The karaoke "menu" is different from the standard karaoke songs, so you'll find no wanna-be American Idols here. Instead, the playlist is an eclectic mix of alternative, goth, punk, oldies, and a few homemade tracks. There's even dinner to be had. It gets started around six or so with a free (really) happy hour, then karaoke from 9 to about 12, and dance music afterward.

All the gory details are here:
http://www.darxxide.com/gc

Resident Discourse DJ and PDP-contributor Kid C. is spinning this Wednesday at What the DJ Wants. This is a new weekly party hosted by Ned Lerner of KXLU's Friday night show Instrumental. Also on the bill are Kyle (KXLU's Prole Art Threat) and McAllister (KXLU's She Rocks!). We have no idea what to expect in terms of music, but our best guess is that Kid C. will drop some pulverizing electronic beats of the German variety. Or, maybe he won't. We don't care. We'll be on the dancefloor.

What the DJ Wants is at Carbon, located at 9300 Venice Blvd. in L.A. It's about one mile east of the 405.

Oh, and it's free too! The party starts at 10:00 p.m. and we're pretty sure it will be better than watching that expose on American Idol.

by Balthazar Monsoon

As some of you remember, I've been on a quest for a decent bar/club in the Inland Empire. In March, my friend took me to The Hook Up, located in Pomona, in a not-so nice area, for some St. Patrick's Day drinking. You'd think this would affect the place. It does. Years ago, this was known as Mary's, and for some reason, I remember aluminun siding. It's changed though.

Although the name implies something dirty, maybe even raunchy, the bar isn't. You can enter either from the front or the back, where you'll always see an abundance of lesbians, some playing pool, some singing along to "Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson blaring off the jukebox. A sign over the bar announces who you bartender is, and everytime I've gone this past month, it's been Junior, who now recognizes me and knows that I'll be drinking Tom Collins and to open a tab for me. I'm usually with friends, so we'll look for a table so we can smoke and talk, and occasionally request songs off the jukebox.

This jukebox is pretty queer. It's filled with dance compilations that feature such artists as CeCe Peniston, The Real McCoy, Crystal Waters, and other gay flavours of the month. Other artists in the jukebox include gay icons such as: Jimmy Somerville, Kylie Minogue, Olivia Newton-John, ABBA, Cher, Donna Summer, Pet Shop Boys, and of course Madonna. There are also a few mariachi cds in this jukebox, along with The Judds, No Doubt and Gwen Stefani, the soundtrack to the film Chicago, and Earth, Wind, and Fire. Just the other night, my friend and I were putting dollar after dollar in the jukebox because no one else wanted to hear any decent music, which was great. I was able to create some rather queer selections that the bar seemed to enjoy.

I don't think it's strange that I've been to The Hook Up pretty much every week for a month. I really like the atmosphere, even though it's a dive bar. I get strong drinks, I can smoke inside the bar, there's no cover charge, and best of all, there isn't a DJ who'll rub his pecs whenever "Naughty Girl" plays.

You can find The Hook-Up at 1047 E. Second Street in Pomona. If you think you stumbled into the bad part of town, you've found it.