Totally true story.

Two weeks ago, I started thinking about how I really wanted to get a story on Human League, but I couldn't find a press contact for the band. So I went to League Online and just sent a message through there, giving all the information for The Rockit and requesting an interview while the band was in town. I received a response almost immediately from someone with the initials "db." We starting writing back and forth, attempting to arrange things, and then a week passed with no set times.

This morning, at work, I received a message "David from Human League (?!) called" along with a cell phone number. Turns out that the band decided not to do interviews with this tour, but he wanted to know if I could make it to the show. How could I refuse? Carlos and I previously saw the band at House of Blues a few years back and were awestruck.

Outside the club, I was told that my name wasn't on the list, so I promptly called David, who said he would send someone to get us. This woman, whose job title is "backstage coordinator" whisked us into the Galaxy Theatre. The only time I was ever whisked anywhere was out of the club and that was because a certain roommate of mine was caught sneaking Jack shots when we were still 19. Backstage Coordinator lead us up and down flights of stairs and around corners at a dizzying speed. I narrowly avoided a confrontation with a wall. After the second or third flight of stairs, she opened the door. We walked in and everyone looked at us. By everyone, I mean a gang of at least six that included the ones most easily recognizable as Joanne Catherall and Susanne Sulley. Plus, oh shit, is that Phil Oakey?

David jumps up to greet us. Turns out he's the programmer for the band, the one you see onstage fiddling with a Mac, and also recorded Secrets. He took us down to another dressing room, told us to have a seat and we started chatting about stuff like ABC and Psychedelic Furs (who HL is set to play with at the Bowl tomorrow), Dead or Alive's recording studio, Secrets and other good stuff. After about ten minutes, the ladies came in to change into costume and we took our leave.

This doesn't normally happen at shows. Generally, even if you are press, you stand at the door until they find your name on the list (in my case, until I can convince them that I'm listed as Liz even though my license says Elizabeth), then you go into the club and you stand around and spend most of your time trying to find a spot with a hard surface and a pinch of light so that you can take your notes. Once in a while, you might meet the publicist or the tour manager. If you meet the band (and you aren't scheduled for an interview) it's most likely because you happened to pass the merch booth when they were rummaging through t-shirts. This was something special, something that neither Carlos or I is bound to forget, even though we totally kept our cool. (I discreetly sent B. Monsoon a text message after we left backstage and waited until we drove home to leave a long message on Melissa's cell phone.)

Here's the setlist for the show:

"Sound of the Crowd"
"Things That Dreams Are Made Of"
"Open Your Heart"
"Heart Like a Wheel"
"Mirror Man"
"All I Ever Wanted"
Song Liz Can't Remember
"Seconds"
"The Lebanon"
"One Man in my Heart"
"Human"
"Love Action"
Another Song Liz Can't Remember
"Fascination"
"Don't You Want Me"

Encore:
"Being Boiled"
(For the record, I called this one. I kept telling Carlos, "Watch, they will open the encore with 'Being Boiled'")
"Together in Electric Dreams"

Just got back from a raging dinner party at my grandmother's house on occasion of a visit from family from the old country (that's Cleveland, Ohio). We're sitting around the table and my mom's cousin starts asking about this word "emo" that all the kids say. My mom and the mom of one of the younger cousins start laughing because they have heard all about emo.
"Well, my dad thought emo was this old comedian."
Seriously, the first time my dad heard my brother and sister and I making emo cracks, he said, "What, are all the kids into Emo Phillips?"
So, the younger cousin says that it's supposed to be short for emotional and mentions screamo and cutting and stuff. Then, people start looking towards me, since I seem to be taking over my uncle's position as resident music know-it-all.
"Um, it's like, uh." What am I supposed to say? Give them the Wikipedia answer? I mean, I'm pretty far removed from the whole emo thing, but I did see Rye Coalition play at Coney Island High sometime in the late 1990s. Oh and I went to that Taking Back Sunday show over the summer, not to mention Warped Tour.
"Well," I began. "Emo guys are usually 6'2", extremely skinny and wear girl-sized jeans."
"I think I know one of those guys," says my mom's cousin.
"Does he have an asymmetrical haircut?"
"Yeah," she answered.
"That's emo."
Then she starts talking about how her son's friends look like that and she's surprised that none have been beaten up.
"I know!" my mom answers. "I'm still trying to figure out why all the guys want to look like anime characters."
Hey, pretty cool. My mom knows what anime is as well.
My grandma looks confused.
"Grandma, think of what I looked like at 15 and multiply it by 10."
"You looked so weird then. All you wore was black."
Actually, all I still wear is black, but I don't safety pin my mom's old slips and wear them as jumpers anymore.
"How come I don't see emo kids in my neighborhood?" she asks. "Is there something wrong here?"
"Grandma," I answered. "I grew up with most of the kids in your neighborhood." (True fact: My biggest fear was running into my grandparents while sneaking out of my friend's house to TP.) "We were goths, not emo."
"So where are the emo kids?"
"At the mall. Around Hot Topic."
"Where's Hot Topic?"
"Across from Banana Republic. Next to Macy's."
"Oh, okay. I'll keep an eye out."
Let this be a message to the kids. My grandmother now officially knows emo. It's time to move on to a different scene.

I just got a text message from my friend Paola a little while ago letting me know that Justice, my favorite of all the French-noisy-electrohouse-with-organs-and-cool-old-school-Catholic-imagery duos, will be playing at Safari Sam's on October 31st. A few months ago, I got a copy of their Simian remix (after downloading it a few months prior) and it's been in heavy rotation here in the bedroom ever since. Most recently, I picked up their "Waters of Nazareth" 12", and it's a total killer. (Get it here gratis.) I'm pretty set on seeing them. Alas, Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so I might just have to ask for the next day off.

(Also, MSTRKRFT.)

You know that new issue of The Rockit I've been telling you about? It's online now. Read it. Aside from Megan's arse-kicking Street Scene pictorial, Ivan has some arse-kicking photos of CSS, The Subways and Sierra Swan in there. There are words too. If you can read this, then you can read The Rockit.

You probably won't be able to read Animal Sounds, The Rockit's exclusive comic, but Jeaux started a blog dedicated to our favorite bitchy record store clerks. Plus, you can join the fan page on MySpace.

Finally, check out this clip from the upcoming film Closing Escrow the Movie. I don't know when it will be widely released or anything like that, but it looks like it's going to be a riot. Plus, the director is my cousin. Gotta keep it in the family, yo.

If not, it's probably because, at this very second, they are huddled inside the Viper Room watching Constantine Maroulis' second performance of the evening.

I was at the first of tonight's sets. Parked in a metered zone on Sunset. Found out that the change wandering about at the bottom of my purse actually does come in handy for something. Ran into an old friend outside the show. Saw the line. Fortunately, got into a shorter line. Went inside and soon realized that, for the first time since I turned 21, I was the youngest person in the club. Okay, so there were a few other twenty-somethings. However, 98% of the crowd was in age to my mother. Granted, my mom is a Constantine fan. He's the only reason either of us watched American Idol that one season and his departure was the primary reason that we stopped watching and vowed to never watch it again. These ladies weren't like my mom, though. Many wore ankle bracelets. I'm not sure if there is more I can add to that. Others wore leggings of the birthday party at the Santa Clarita Family Fun Park variety. Fashion wasn't the big deal. Actually, it was, but this post isn't really about outwear.

I really hope I am wrong. I pray that what I saw a towel thrown on stage by some kind soul who noticed how drenched Constantine was growing. If I am right, though, that means that some lady (and I use the term lightly) threw a pair of granny panties onstage.

Not that this has anything to do with music, but it does have to do with party people. My party people.


Armenian-Americans vs. Glendale's Grill Phobes

Now, I'm no authority on Armenianess. In fact, there are those who have not-so-kindly informed me that I'm not really Armenian. I just happen to have an -ian on the end of my name, be the child of two people with -ian born and the great-grandaughter of people whose families were killed because they also had -ians on the end of their last names. If I'm "not really Armenian" then will someone kindly explain why I have to go through life with last name even I can't pronounce. (And why do I spend so much on waxing?)

Anyhow, even as an Armo of the whitewashed variety, I appreciated this article because you can't have an Armenian wedding without kebab. Even in a family like mine, where marrying another Armenian is rare, all weddings have kebab. Do you even understand what would happen if you served a hotel chicken dinner at a wedding? It's like casting a big cloud of shame over the whole family. That charred flesh, that murdered lamb that is savoured at every major family function, is tradition. AND, it is always cooked outside. No question about it. You get your meat and veg, further torture them by sticking skewers through the flesh and let it grill.

So, even thought I have major issues with Glendale (see paragraph 2), I'm pro-grill. Just a little two cents worth for y'all.

The Tender Box is playing tonight and it's free. Check them out at King King before they head out to the U.K. and come back rock stars. For more details on this and the upcoming U.K. tour, check out the band's MySpace page.

Megan the Water Moccasin and I thought we were finished with running around in the summer heat to cover these festival things. We were wrong. This time, though, we weren't covering the festival on our own, which made our experience a bit less hectic. And so, yesterday, a bunch of us associated with The Rockit headed down to Santa Monica to cover Summer Strummer, which was this daylong festival of primarily local artists, most of whom rehearse or record at Swinghouse.
We showed up at around noon, went over to The Rockit booth and saw the new issue. It's not online yet, but it is in stores, so seek it out. This issue is the best yet. In addition to Street Scene footage, we have interviews with Wolfmother, Nine Black Alps, Ned's Atomic Dustbin (while I don't know for sure, I believe this is the first U.S. press since they released "Hibernation"), The Bronx, Sierra Swan, Moaning Lisa and Clear Static. There are also live reviews of The Subways, Dirty Pretty Things, Death Cab for Cutie, CSS and Cash Casia plus Robert's piece on Last.fm and tons of other reviews. Oh, and the latest installment of Animal Sounds, our cartoon, is the funniest yet. And, as a final bonus, for all you Southern California punk types, there is a poster of Mike Ness inside. Go get it at your local (and by local I mean L.A.) record store, coffeehouse and nightclub. Plus, if you go to a local record store coffeehouse and/or nightclub and don't see it, but think you should see it, let us know.
So, the first act we really caught was Stefy. As you might recall, a few weeks ago, I got reamed for stating my disdain for "Chelsea." Note that I had only dissed the song, not the band. Anyhow, since I'm a fair-minded sort, I checked out the live performance. At first, I thought it was well-played but a little dry. The singer was doing some Gwen Stefani warbles with her voice, which was odd considering that her voice is far superior to Stefani. After a few songs, I really started to feel the set. They had a song called "Orange Crush" that I liked. I still don't like "Chelsea," but Stefy is alright.
We spent most of the day running around from stage to stage to VIP section, trying to pin down people for interviews. I think I startled the 13-year-old singer from Drive A when I popped in front of him like Dr. Bombay and said, "Hey, my name is Liz. I'm from The Rockit. Can I interview you?" Robert cornered someone from Agent Orange as he emerged from a port-a-potty. Balthazar Monsoon was royally dissed by a member of The Donnas heretoforth referred to as Mean Donna. He said, though, that Josie Cotton were "really sweet." I heard some really funny stories backstage courtesy of The Spores and The Tender Box. Unfortunately, I didn't see Susanna Hoffs anywhere, which might actually be a good thing because I would have embarrassed myself by saying, "Oh my God, when I was in elementary school, I used to sing in front of the mirror to every Bangles song, even 'Going Down to Liverpool' and 'Hero Takes a Fall.'" I might have also mentioned that I became really good at casting my eyes to the side, so good that I still manage to unintentionally do it in pictures.
A few weeks ago, my friend John in New York told me that I had to check out Under the Influence of Giants. I had my chance yesterday and I freakin' love, love, love this band. I tried to find them after the set, but couldn't. I wanted to ask if they are really into "Fly Like an Eagle." Listen to the band's music and you will understand why.
I guess that's really only part of what happened, but I must depart and you will read the entire story next month in The Rockit.