Three nights of Morrissey tickets sold out in a half hour, if not less. I should have known that if I could actually get into the site, there was no chance I could get something.

Yesterday's pre-sale was done by the time I was able to actually log in to the site. That was roughly 15 minutes after the start of the sale.

Fifteen years ago, I saw Morrissey at Pacific Amp. It was my first concert. Tickets when on sale on a weekday and my mom wouldn't let me ditch to get in line. By the time the schoolday ended, the tickets had long since gone. My saving grace was my aunt, who had one of those awesome corporate jobs with access to things like a concierge, who can make deals with ticket brokers. That's how I got to see Morrissey. He played UCLA a few months later and my friend and I were going to get tickets, but we got stuck with detention and couldn't make it to Tower in time. We tried writing sob story letters to KROQ in hopes that they would pity us and get us into the show. It didn't work. Then the concert ended in a riot 3 songs into the show and we were kind of glad that we weren't there. After a few more attempts to see my celibate sex god, I gave up on seeing Moz until he played Coachella, which was at least seven years later, just because I couldn't handle the disappointment of not getting tickets anymore. I haven't see him since, for the same reason. I changed my tune when my cousin text messaged me while I was driving to Carlos' place on Thursday night and I responded while stuck in traffic with "WHAT? WHEN?"

Apparently, not much has changed in fifteen years and that is why June something-or-other, 1991 at Pacific Amp will stand out as the best concert of my life. I am forever indebted to my Aunt M.

Yes, readers, the January issue of The Rockit is now on stands. You can find it at most, if not all, L.A. area record stores and nightclubs. For those of you out of town, the online edition should be up soon. However, I humbly submit that the print edition is far superior, if only because it feels more local. Ask your L.A. friends to pick up copies and mail them to you. It will be so '95.
Also, for those of you going out this weekend, I'll be hanging around Underground on Friday and Bang! on Saturday and I always have copies in my bag, so just ask me for one.

Anyhow, I have been editing The Rockit for six months now and this is the first issue that I really love. Usually, there will be one band that I can't believe I okayed or one story that we (Carlos, Amy, Melissa, B. Monsoon's alter and I) edited so many times that none of us ever want to see it again. This issue wasn't like that at all. It's also our relaunch. We took off December and made a few changes. Most of the changes won't take place until February, but you can see some in the new issue. For now, here's January.

On the Cover: The Secret Machines

Cover, Bottom of the Fold: Isis, Primus

Inside:
Tre Lux (Tina Root of Switchblade Symphony)
Adult.
Brazil
Jonezetta
Darker My Love
Under the Influence of Giants

Plus:
Penny Pop talks to Piper Ferguson and Shalyce Benfell about Cafe Bleu
Robert Tapia tests Zune
Ruben D. Lopez picks some of the finest music clips on YouTube
Year End Staff Picks
Ten Bands to See in 2007
Animal Sounds (the final piece of the Ian Emu Trapped in a Stage Triology)
Nightclubbing, our brand new photo page. This month, pics of New Young Pony Club and others were provided by Ivan.

Live Reviews:
The Faint/Ladytron
The Tender Box
The Blood Brothers
The Autumns/Glider

Oh, and the CD review section, I suggest reading about Blowfly.

We heard the Billies (Idol and Corgan) were there, but we didn't see them. Perhaps they were locked away in a secret room where Hook retired after being whisked past autograph seekers and yours truly, who was shying away in a corner whispering to Carlos "What would I say? You're my favorite bassist?"
Peter Freakin' Hook was in town and I stood fewer than a person's length away from him and couldn't say a word, couldn't even reach over to shake his hand.
He looks like a Euro Dad-- unbuttoned white shirt, multiple chain necklaces, face and hair that scream 50-- but he plays with more energy than most 20-year-old hipsters. He dances like it's Saturday night at Spundae, which of course it was, with arms punctuating hi-hats and kick drum bounces.
We stood at the corner of the booth for most of the two-hour set, sneaking out briefly for cigarettes and trips to the bar and bathroom. To say that nostalgia was big part of Hook's allure as a DJ would be an undestatement. The bulk of his set played off the legend of Joy Division/New Order. There were originals ("Transmission" and "Love Will Tear Us Apart"), covers (unfortunately, he did not play Flunk's Bjork-ish cover of "Blue Monday"), collaborations (Chemical Bros. "Out of Control") and remixes ("Blue Monday," a white label mix that I have somewhere, "Bizarre Love Triangle," etc.). Echoes of "Blue Monday" came and went throughout the set. In between he mixed in some punk tunes ("Anarchy in the U.K." and "London Calling"), Manchester madness (Stone Roses, Happy Mondays) and the big club hits of the past few years (Chemical Bros. "Galvanized," Mylo "Destroy Rock n' Roll"). Familiarity drove the set, but didn't detract from it. Hook's slip-ups were few and far between (not too often you can say that about rock stars who DJ) and the energy he fed the crowd seemed to go beyond his reputation as a bassist.
Meanwhile, I probably should have shouted out for Monaco.