I'm not a fan of The Killers in the least. In fact, I have often said that if I want to listen to The Cure, I will do so. But, since MTV aired The Killers and not The Cure this afternoon, I reneged on my self-promise. That said, I will now pay a compliment to The Killers. At least they aren't Linkin Park.
I tell you now with complete sincerity that I wanted to take a pencil to my eardrums when Linkin Park and Jay Z performed on Live 8 today. It was, in fact, worse than the tube-top wearing VJ lecturing the audience on "how ignorant we are." (I hate to break it to MTV and VH1, but some of us still read newspapers.)
The only performance that could rival Linkin Z in terms of bile rising ugliness was Green Day's cover of "We are the Champions." Freddy must be rolling in his grave. My mother, an ardent Queen fan from way back, looked as if she might cry for all the wrong reasons. Let this be a lesson to any potential rockers, never cover a song performed by someone with a voice better than yours.

Let's just get this out of the way first. Jeaux Janovsky is an old friend of mine. When we graduated from high school in 1995, we were voted Most Unique, a gramatically foul title undoubtedly bestowed upon us for our complete disregard for such trivialities as dress codes (because striped legwear and Bauhaus t-shirts looked good under a school uniform, no matter what the deans and Sr. Theresa said). In the decade following our graduation, Jeaux studied animation at Cal Arts and is now set to take over our television sets one cartoon character at a time. Jeaux documents the daily life of an animator in search of work on his blog, All My Heroes Have Day Jobs. Check it out or, even better, give him his own show on Adult Swim.

Erasure Information Service reports that Andy Bell and the Manhattan Clique are working on a remix of Goldfrapp's single "Ooh La La," set for an August release.
The remix appears to be more of a cover than simply tweaking the beats, a la Peaches' mix of "Get Me Off" (Basement Jaxx) and Tiga's rendition of "Madame Hollywood" (Felix da Housecat w/Miss Kittin). In other words, Bell will provide vocals for the track.
More information will most likely become available at Goldfrapp's website.

I have this vague recollection of meeting Miranda July in passing up at KXLU sometime around late-1997 or early-1998. She was wearing a cheerleading skirt and carrying what looked like a toy piano. The music director at the time looked a bit harried, like he wasn't really sure on how to deal with an indie performer who wasn't an indie rocker. College radio at this time was staid. There were the indie bigwigs: Pavement, Built to Spill, Stereolab, etc. Then there were scores of emo bands developing emo-pop, just about ready to abandon short-sleeved plaid shirts for white belts. And there were piles of lo-fi 7" singles containing something that sort of resembled a pop song, but it was kind of hard to tell because it all just sounded so fuzzy and cramped. Miranda July was completely different from anything heard on a station that prided itself for being, well, different.
When The Binet-Simon Test was released, my fellow DJ Estelle and I could not get enough of it. I think that my favorite was "Medical Wonder," a piece about an experiment gone awry. The writing was clever and the delivery was captivating. However, what really got me going was the fact that every time I played this track, at least two people would call on the request line and say, "Take this off and play some Pavement." People only seem to call to complain and only seem to complain when they cannot handle something outside of convention. Today, Miranda July has a shelf full of awards and more glowing reviews than one can fathom.
I thought about this when I saw Me and You and Everyone We Know last night and realized that every bit of hype surrounding this film is well-deserved. I'll be the first to admit that I cannot sit still through a movie, but this one had me clinging to the arms of my chair while staring gape-mouthed and thinking, "I know that feeling." It's a universal story told in an original fashion that deftly mixes comedy and drama.
I felt inspired after leaving the Nuart last night. Partially, this was because the movie was *that* good, but mostly this was the result of piecing together the anecdote of the first few paragraphs herein with July's current success. Sometimes what seems strange to the masses is what will eventually make an impact on the masses. I guess the moral is follow your heart and the rest will follow. It's not an original sentiment, but following July's story relates it in an original manner.

Silverlake, California: The hilly refuge of the terminally hip where streets curve and intersections are marked by three way lights is, I think, designed specifically to make the barely-urban denizens of Greater Los Angeles feel ill-at-ease. I thought I might get lost just by turning on a sidestreet to find a parking spot. I thought my self-esteem might shatter when I eavesdropped on one conversation after another regarding Arcade Fire and realized that I don't really care about Arcade Fire in the same way that I never really cared one way or another about Elliott Smith or many other artists that received the indie hipster stamp of approval.
Silverlake reminds me of the snooty Catholic prep school I attended in 9th and 10th, where people are so intent upon being cool that good times are irrelevant. I transferred high schools for the same reason that I hate hanging out in Silverlake, I don't deal well with that sort of bullshit. All that said, I have two rules when traveling over the hill and to the east, never go alone and never stay long.
Last night, I broke one of those rules when my brother and I arrived at the club at 9:00 p.m., thinking that the band we were intent to see, The Mojo Filters, might play early. Actually, The Mojo Filters were scheduled to play last. When I related the information to Brother John, he glared at me. I glanced around the room and thought, "shit."
Fortunately for us, though, the caliber of last night's performances more than made up for the fact that we spent four hours in Silverlake. Brother John said that it was the best show he's seen this year. I think he was more than slightly relieved that none of the performances relied on pop culture references and cheesy onstage antics that are supposed to function as performance art.
The Slighted opened up the night with a set that had its moments, but fell shy of being noteworthy. The band boasts a singer with appropriately snotty punk vocals and a good stage presence that fit nicely with the slightly evil-surf vibe of the guitars. However, the songs were not concise and, at points, seemed to drag like chains on a Herse. The band was at its best towards the end of the set, when it opted to play shorter, Misfits-sounding numbers. The Slighted have a good dose of potential, but still seem a little green around the edges.
If an A&R rep from a major label happened to be inside Silverlake Lounge last night, my guess is that he/she would have signed The Oohlas on the spot. This band has serious crossover appeal-- good energy, a cool look that will still appeal to a more mainstream audience and songs that rock critics will describe as "infectious." While the set was enjoyable, it went on for a bit too long and featured a few too many songs that were not up to the level of the band's best work.
Something about The Prix led me to imagine quirky Southern bands. Maybe it was the guy with the top hat behind the keyboard. Maybe it was the boogie in the band's step or the interplay between the singers. Regardless, The Prix is one of the unhyped treasures of the Los Angeles music scene. If you happen to be at Warped Tour on Friday, check out this band on the E.I.Y. stage.
By night's end, I couldn't control my feet. It's all the fault of The Mojo Filters.
I heard that The Mojo Filters have played on an almost weekly basis for the past three years. It shows. Singer George knows how to work the microphone in a small venue, where guitars nearly always overpower vocals. The band's sound is tight, actually better live than on disc, and filled with the sort of soul I had previously only heard on mid-1960s rock records lifted from my parents' collection. This set was definitely worth the wait.

Thank you to everyone who came to our party last Sunday night at the Parlour. That was our last Discourse for the time being. Should an opportunity present itself for us to plan further events, we will rise to the occasion. Right now, though, we're taking a break to concentrate on other projects. Resident DJs Kid C. and Liz O. will continue playing records at various clubs, house parties and street corners across Los Angeles. Liz and Karen are also working on making the the official Discourse website, www.thepeoplesdanceparty.com your source for music, gossip and rants against steep parking prices and watered-down beverages.Our past six months at the Parlour have been a blast and we would like to thank owners Lenny and Andrew for providing the space. We also want to thank the artists who have performed with us: Babyland, Anavan, Books on Tape, Rudy Bleu, Senior, Clifton and Swapmeet. Most of all, we want to thank those daring souls who came out and danced to all of our weird little records.

Leroy Hanghofer
White Trash
Gomma Records

Mathias Modica and Jonas Imbery of Munk record their vocals in the toilet of their own Gomma studio and have incorporated this same technique with the help of some friends on their side project, Leroy Hanghofer. Fortunately, Modica and Imbery accomplish this without creating the cringe factor of other bathroom recordings, for example, that time your boss dictated a ten-page letter while sitting on the can. Instead, White Trash has the feel of a slumber party for adults. What else are you going to do at 4:00 a.m. when you are too old to play Bloody Mary, right?
Most of these cuts, which date back to 1999 and 2000, were recorded in the dead of night after Munk's gigs. On the opening track, "Bathroomboogie," Agethe laments, "I'm getting drunk alone in the bathroom. It's not good," in an unidentifiable European accent that later transforms "beach" to "bitch." On "Klon (Your Body)," Jennifer shrieks, "Stinky motherfuckers! They smell like a thousand tons of shit!" The Frauliens coo on "Trausmerei," "there she sits without a thought in her head." Listening to the lyrics, I am left to wonder, is somebody eavesdropping on my post-club conversations or are late-night drunken ramblings universal?
Leroy Hanghofer and friends' apres-party script is set to a funk-intense score culled from a Sequential Circuits drum machine, two old synthesizers and samples from "obscure East European 70s rock records." Seek this out and it might just be the album you rock while sitting in line at the Del Taco drive-through on Saturday nights this summer.