I'm not really sure how it happened.
Sometime after Stevenson Ranch Davidians (best band name in Los Angeles) played a very Spiritualized set and Annie coerced Mark the DJ into playing "Lilian," our favorite song off of Depeche Mode's latest album, for us, but before Annie's request for We Are Scientists was honored, I sat on the patio. I was at the northwest corner of a table, Larry the Promoter/DJ to my right, Dave across from me and Yutaro next to him. We were talking about something, although I can't remember what that something was exactly. I think it had something to do with the lack of weekly Saturday night parties in the city that we might enjoy. There really aren't any of those right now.
I slid a cigarette out of its Parliament packaging, grabbed the book of matches I had laid in the middle of the table and scooted the ashtray towards me. Then I lit the match and brought it in towards my lips.
I saw a bright flash of orange in the corner of my, similar to a streetlight refracting against the car windshield during a storm. Or, maybe not, maybe it was more like...
FIRE!
If the flame and the bacon-crackle too close to my ear didn't tip me off, then the smell of rapidly incinerating hair and acrylic did.
I think I screamed "Oh, shit!" or "Fuck!" or something like that, but maybe I didn't because I don't remember causing a scene. I saw Larry lean over really quickly. I don't know if he put out the fire of if it was just a singe that went out on its own and he leaned towards me to brush off the hair that had now fallen. Either way, I thank him. My hair, honestly a smaller chunk than I imagined, was ruined in much the same way it was when I set it on fire while blowing out birthday candles when I turned eight. I also managed to muck up part of the faux fur collar on my brand new mauve corduroy jacket that my grandmother gave me for Christmas.
It never fails. No matter how hard I try to behave like a normal person, I will manage to make a royal ass out of myself.
Liz: "I guess it could have been worse. Although, that might have been pretty funny."
I tried not to shutter at the thought of what could have happened if the mini-blaze didn't go out, especially since I had just finished my glass of water and the only thing kind of resembling liquid in the area were some ice cubes remaining in what looked like an empty coctail.
Yutaro: "No, it wouldn't!"
Liz: "Funny in a horrible way, I suppose."
Hey, I was just trying to lighten the situation.
Dave: "Think of the story we would have!"
(Yet another in a long string of seemingly unbelievable incidents that mark my accident-prone life.)
Yutaro: "Yeah, we saw Liz set herself on fire."
Larry: "How Liz is like Michael Jackson"
Hence, the title for this entry.
Later on, after Yutaro left and Larry went to play his set, I prepared to say my goodbyes.
Liz: "Ugh, I still smell like burnt hair!"
Dave: "Oh, you probably don't. It's probably just the area that has the burnt smell."
(Dave, you are a my dear friend and a good person, but you were totally wrong about me not smelling like burnt hair. However, I do thank you for trying to make me feel like less of a freak.)
I had to leave my windows up on the drive home on account of the cold. The burnt hair smell permeated the car. I tried to ignore it, tried to become so involved in my new Editors cd playing that I would eventually forget that the stench was there.
I ran into the house, slipped out of my jacket quickly and tried to find something that remedied the hair situation. When I was in college, I always carried an odor-neutralizer in the fragrance of Thierry Mugler's Angel. It was made specifically to get the club smell out of hair and I have to say that stuff never failed me. I wish I still had it.
I grabbed a Bath & Body Works spray in some variation of vanilla and sprayed it everywhere. Alas, it was of no use. I moved closer to the mirror to investigate the section of hair that was now split and the same shade of burnt sienna that it turns after the first of a two-process dye job. I now smelled of burning and warm vanilla sugar.

Everyone who’s logged on to MySpace within the last week should have noticed current music-pick-of-the-week Test-Icicles. I expect very few (probably one percent) bothered to click on said link. Those who did were surely blown away by the amalgamation of dance-punk, metal and screamo.

My experience with London-based Test-Icicles goes beyond MySpace. My friend Lians, who has her ear tuned to the indie music map better than anyone else I know, sent me a mix album last summer containing the band’s track “Dancing On Pegs.” I was immediately blown away by the shrieking guitars and screaming vocals. Imagine what Gang Of Four or The Rapture would sound like had they grown up on the outskirts of Philadelphia; post-punk for a generation of alcoholics looking to keep the party going past closing time.

Domino Records has already brought the group’s music stateside with the November release of the Boa Vs. Python EP in November. The label will follow through by releasing the group’s full-length album For Screening Purposes Only in February. Test-Icicles will tour the U.S. in March.

Test-Icicles.com
Test-Icicles MySpace

It's a good thing that I wore wedge-heel boots as opposed to proper heels because while spiral staircases look very chic in a haunted gothic mansion sort of way, they are a real pain to climb, particularly when you are winding down the staircase at the end of the night while holding a crate of cds (poor Balthazar, he was carrying my records!).
I brought way more music that could have possibly played last night and despite the fact that my brand new Bloc Party 12" skipped in lock-groove fashion during its opening notes, thus barring me from working in the Bloc Party/Smiths mix that I had practiced on the bedroom gear over the weekend, it went really well. My deepest thanks to the friends who showed up to support, especially those who drove a serious distance to attend (Balthazar, Daniel, Robert and Erika, who drove up from San Diego, which I suppose makes her the club trooper of the week) and those who generally don't hit the club scene (Alice). Here's my portion of the setlist:

Set 1:
Muse-- Bliss
Monaco-- What Do You Want from Me?
Nightmare of You: I Want to be Buried in Your Backyard
Pulp-- Countdown
Saint Etienne-- We're in the City
Franz Ferdinand-- Do You Want To?
James-- Laid
Editors: Munich
Morrissey-- Sister, I'm a Poet
Specials-- Gangsters
Dead 60s-- Riot Radio
Madness-- House of Fun
Clash-- This is Radio Clash
Elastica-- Connection
Kaiser Chiefs-- I Predict a Riot
XTC-- Generals and Majors
Elvis Costello-- Pump it Up

Set 2:
Lush-- Ciao!
Belle and Sebastian-- Legal Man
Edwyn Collins-- Girl Like You
Blur-- There's No Other Way
Charlatans-- The Only One I know
Happy Mondays-- Step On (Twistin My Melon Mix)
Stone Roses-- Fool's Gold (A Guy Called Gerald Mix)
Daft Punk-- Da Funk
Air-- Sexy Boy
Ladytron-- Destroy Everything You Touch

Back in 2000, I was part of a tape swap through a website (which is, actually, where I met Mary). As part of said tape swap, I ended up exchanging mixes with a girl in Australia whose handle reflected the title of a Nick Cave song. On her mix was a track from one of her favorite Aussie groups.
I fell in love with "Since I Left You" the moment I heard those pitched up soul vocals and am eternally grateful to the girl with whom I have since lost touch for introducing me to a piece of what would eventually become one of my favorite albums of this decade, if not of all time. I longed to play the track at a club, but there was no way I could play a tape over the soundsystem. I checked with store clerks constantly and searched Napster for my then favorite song. Nothing. A full year would elapse between the time Australian Girl sent me a cassette copy of "Since I Left You" and the Avalanches' debut cd of the same name actually made it to the U.S. record market, apparently due to the amount of time it took to clear the samples that constitute every note of this album.
Shortly after the release of the album, Carlos and I saw the Avalanches spin at some club in Santa Monica, the name of which escapes me at the moment. Shortly after that, the crowds abandoned "Since I Left You" and "Frontier Psychiatrist" for "Fuck the Pain Away" and "Emerge." MTV2 ditched the "Frontier Psychiatrist" video in favor of repeated reality programming. Actually, M2 ditched all but its hip-hop collection in favor of non-video fare, but that's another story. Then, the Avalanches disappeared off of the smoking patio radar before the band could even mimic the success they had in other parts of the world. While the Avalanches still DJ, according to their website, they have not released a single since 2002 and Since I Left You remains the band's sole full-length. In the meantime, Kanye gets all the credit for speeding up sampled soul vocals. I can't stand him.

I am an incredibly irrational, sometimes flat-out stupid person bordering on madness who is prone to doing things I will inevitably regret, such as trading in cds I should keep. I have to trade in cds at least a few times a year for the simple fact that it affords me the pleasure of buying new music (for some reason, I never trade vinyl, simply because cds feel more disposable and easier to reclaim at some point). However, I have a habit of grabbing stacks of cds in either a fit of rage or complete carelessness and taking them to the trade in counter at Amoeba. For example, I got so sick of "Common People" by Pulp that I traded in the entire Different Class disc just so that there was no way anybody could ever successfully request it at one of my gigs. My complete irritation over one song, caused by the fact that I played it so many times and not because it was an inferior piece of music (because it is, quite possibly, one of the best songs created during the course of the 1990s), led me to purge an incredible album from my collection. Now my copy of Lush's Lovelife is missing and I have this sick feeling that I traded that in as well and I want to play "Ciao!" so badly on Thursday night that I can hear Miki and Jarvis going at it as I try to comb my room in a fruitless search. Meanwhile, I still maintain an enormous pile of garbage, including remix vinyl that is so tranced-out I would never play it and promotional hardcore discs that date back to the late-1990s.
I think I am going to have to figure out how to use ITunes.

I was on this search for a vinyl copy of "Geno" by Dexy's Midnight Runner, part of an on-again/off-again search that has gone on for at least six years, with Carlos today. The search took us to Go Boy in Redondo Beach where, naturally, we could not find the album. Nor could we find a vinyl copy of Madness' "Baggy Trousers." However, I did pick up a really nifty extended version of "Erotic City," Menswear on vinyl (because I think I traded in the cd not too long ago, like the fool that I am, and I had a hankering for "Daydreamer") and a self-titled Madness record. The important part, though, is that we overheard a conversation about the slew of local record stores closing. You probably already know about Aron's and Rhino, but, not too long ago, Rocketship in Hermosa closed and that place was stocked with some of the best new wave vinyl I have ever seen. Carlos and I would walk out of there with bags filled with Bollock Brothers, pre-arena Simple Minds and Tears for Fears 12" remixes. Anyhow, they mentioned another store that was set to close soon and, while driving back up PCH, we thought we would stop by JDC, another one of favorite haunts, to see if it was them.
JDC was closed and the sign outside read that it would close permanently on January 15, 2006. That said, there is a sale. My guess is that I won't be down in the South Bay in time to hit said sale, but I suppose that just means that there will be more records for you to buy. JDC is a long-running distributor of dance music, so the store is a really good outlet for some classic jams. Over the past few years, I have found some of my favorite Italo-disco and early electro 12" singles here.
Like I said, the store wasn't open when we drove past it, so I'm not sure what the hours are right now. There is a phone number on the link above, so I suggest calling first. The store is located on PCH in Hermosa Beach, just south of Aviation.