I was in the DJ booth most of last night, so I couldn't take inventory as to who was at the Secret Society of the Sonic Six/Ming & Ping/Avenue D show at the Key Club. The show was actually very crowded, so my guess is that a lot of people now realize why I keep mentioning Ming & Ping on this here site. For those who were not in attendance, you missed out on a very special night. No, I'm not talking about the chance to dance to an eight minute epic reworking of White Stripes' single "Blue Orchid." Nor am I talking about the party-topping white label remix of Cutting Crew's "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" (oh, yeah, I am not above trance versions of 1980s ballads). Simply put, you really need to see Ming & Ping.
I try to avoid using terms like "brilliant" and "genius" when describing shows because both are overused and, frankly, rarely actually apply to the performance at hand. Ming & Ping, though, I would describe in both terms. Please do not call the hyperbole police. I can't tell you what actually comprises the Ming & Ping experience. If I did, it would really ruin all of the fun of being in the audience for the first time and shouting to your friend, "Dude, I totally get it now!"
I hope Ming & Ping play LA again soon. When that time comes, or when the synthpop twins hit your hometown, do yourself a favor and line up early so that you can get right up to the front of the stage.

It isn't that often that the Troubadour is packed by 9:00 p.m. Hell, when Carlos and I saw Stereo Total a few years ago, maybe twenty people arrived early enough to catch some opening band called the Raveonettes. (In fact, we only heard one or two songs.) Last night, though, both the floor and balcony were lined with young people by the time Scary Kids Scaring Kids, billed second on a line-up headlined by Silverstein, hit the stage.
Given that we were, perhaps, the only people over 21 inside the sold out venue, Estelle and I essentially had the VIP lounge to ourselves. We perched ourselves on stools by the window, basked in our godlike position for about a minute and waited for the show to start.
"Check out the drummer," Estelle noted, motioning her head towards a ripped, shirtless fellow banging hard on his drums.
"Emo has come a long way since Boy's Life and Cambria [Can't find a link]," I remarked.
"Yeah, these kids could kick their asses."
(Maybe that's because the band is more screamo than emo. I don't know. I'm not good with these things.)
Throughout the beginning of the set, we averted our eyes away from said drummer and towards Fanboy. As you might gather from the nickname, Fanboy was standing right up in front, hanging over the tip of the stage. He was about nineteen or twenty, I would imagine, with a thick football player neck and a shaved head. Fanboy knew every word to every song during the set. He also knew every note of every guitar solo. Fanboy became our knew hero, a symbol of true music appreciation in an age where hype serves as a hindrance to developing a true following. He was the anti-scenester and, for that, we salute Fanboy, whoever you are.
Later on during the set, our attention turned to Pouyan, the keyboardist. If this boy had a keytar, he would be hamming it up like Yngwie Malmsteen. I'm kind of glad that he didn't have a keytar, though, because the instrument is just way too hipster and that would have ruined the set. Pouyan, though, has moves, lots of slithering, back-bending, high-kicking, pole-climbing moves. And when Pouyan pulled one of these moves, every girl in the club screamed.
"You know, I'd scream like that too, if I was fifteen," I said to Estelle.
She nodded in the affirmative.
Then the mosh pits started going and we sighed with relief that we were only overlooking the action. Neither Estelle nor I do mosh pits very well.
We started talking about how big and fanatical the crowd was for a band we had only heard recently opening for a band that Estelle did not know and that I had only heard in passing.
"There's this whole scene and we are completely clueless to it," I said.
"Yeah, because we're ten years too old."

I'm really excited to DJ the following party tomorrow. I'll be playing between bands. The show also serves as the release party for Ming & Ping's new album, MP2.

For the past six month or so, I have had this recurring dream wherein I head Downtown to interview Depeche Mode at the Standard. I'm lead upstairs to one of the rooms and I meet with Dave, Martin and Andy. I start to wonder if maybe Alan is hiding behind a curtain and they're going to announce that he's rejoining the band. All of a sudden, Dave and Andy disappear and I'm left alone with Martin who is wearing the leather shorts and hat combo from the 101 tour and hitting on me in this incredibly obvious guy-with-shiny-shirt-at-the-bar sort of manner. I keep reminding him that I am there for an interview, but he doesn't stop. By the dream's end, I'm babbling something about how this is just wrong, how Martin isn't supposed to hit on anyone. He's supposed sit all mopey in a corner writing about how nobody loves him or somebody does but it's going to end all wrong even if bondage is pretty cool and the whole world is fucked up and "Princess Di is wearing a new dress" and if he is going to hit on me, can't he at least sing "Somebody" or "A Question of Lust" or even "Compulsion?"

I think I am getting way too excited about the new Depeche Mode album.

Coinciding with yesterday's theme of my supercool Armenian bretheren, I wanted to post a link to Insect Graveyard: My Windshield. This is a (primarily) solo effort from a guy named Levon, who I had the pleasure to meet at the Parlour (RIP) a few years ago through PDP-contributor Michael Cameron.
Levon lives in New Zealand, where he records guitar/electronic tracks that are all slow and pretty, like sunrays and ocean breezes filtering through the window of an apartment on a bluff. Unfortunately, he only has one song on his page. Fortunately, though, his album is set for an October release off of Mike's Mountain Fighting imprint.

In case you really, honestly care, I had all four of my wisdom teeth pulled at the end of last week, which meant that I had to spend the whole weekend inside. For someone who loathes staying in one place all day, that is hell. Bored out of my mind and hopped up on nausea-inducing Vicodin, I decided to purge my My Space account of all friend collectors, bands that I don't really dig and have, like, 10,000 people on there pages and promoters who have to plug their parties, et.al. no fewer than twelve times in one hour but never seem to have enough time to respond to any emails I might send to them. In the process, I inadvertently deleted roughly 50 people that I really do know and like (although I can't remember who was deleted at this point). On the plus side, though, I reacquainted myself with some My Space-affiliated artists that I really do enjoy. Over the next few days, I'll post links to these fine folks.
Let's start things off with the Majestic High. I met Andi when I first joined My Space and it seemed like every Armenian kid with a penchant for indie rock was part of this internet clique. Anyhow, Andi is from LA, but lives in Seoul and, as you can tell from his band's page, he really digs psychedelic sounds. Andi and Cindi make the sort of music that kept me tuned in to Rodney on the Roq and college radio back in the early-1990s. In other words, it's like getting high simply off of listening to one Creation Records band after another, which is entirely possible, trust me.

(Thanks to Cody for the tip. Original source unknown.)

Inventor of Moog Synthesizer Dies at 71.
Bob Moog, inventor of the Moog synthesizer, died of brain cancer yesterday, August 21st, at his home in Asheville, NC. According to the Moog website, Bob was diagnosed with brain cancer in late April. But despite radiation treatment and chemotherapy, Bob could no longer fend off the disease and died at the age of 71."Bob has been such a huge inspiration to all of us," said Moog Music President Mike Adams. "In losing him, we lose a creator, visionary and friend. He was someone who taught us well and he was proud of this company and its people. Bob shaped music in deep and meaningful ways by changing how music could be produced and ultimately, how it would sound."The Moog synthesizer has had a profound affect on modern music. From The Beatles and Herbie Hancock to Weezer and Get Up Kids to Funkadelic and (most famously) Wendy Carlos, the Moog synthesizer drastically expanded the sonorical vocabulary of Western music, essentially redefining the conventions of musical sound while opening up endless possibilities for artists to explore.In his memory, Bob's family has established The Bob Moog Foundation, dedicated to the Advancement of Electronic Music. No public memorial is planned, but fans and friends can share sympathies or remembrances at this website: www.caringbridge.com/visit/bobmoog.
For more information, see this CNN story.

I spent most of last night trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. That said, for the first time in years, I was able to listen to Rodney on the Roq from start to finish! (Please, somebody, put him on earlier in the evening.) Long story short, he played the new single from Bananarama. Bananarama may be missing one member (I think it's Siobhan) but the group sounds exactly the same!
According to the website, "Move in My Direction" debuted on the UK charts at #14 (no mention of it after that, I guess it sort of slipped away) and the band recently played a party with one of my personal favorites, Scissor Sisters! Unfortunately, though, George Michael will not be contributing vocals to the upcoming album, as previously rumored.
Oooh, I just had an idea...
Isn't one of the Bananarama ladies involved with Andrew Ridgeley? Can anybody else scream Bananarama vs. Wham in the 80s revival arena?

Tonight, the People humbly suggest that you attend Antiviolence LA's first major benefit.