Um, Heather Parisi is the fucking shit.



Daphne from (ex-)Avenue D turned me onto her when while we devoured Blair's sweet potato and merguez mash at Shara's place. How did I not know about this bitch? She's like everything I've ever wanted anyone to be.


I'd wear that outfit around the house.



Seriously? Seriously? So sick.

She also has a blog. A BLOG! Something about a 47(!!!!)-year-old pop diva having a blogspot kind of makes me want to hug the planet.

I keep getting outbid on her records on eBay. I fucking hate eBay. I'd rather there be a store where I can just buy the shit I want. Can't they Matrix that shit up in some sort of blank void and let me choose? Like instead of guns and heavy artillery it would be italo 12"s. Amazing.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Also I posted my best of 2007 at Disconap.

Tags: heather parisi, italo disco

When I saw Interpol last week it seemed like their music was so much older than it actually is, or maybe I am just reaching an age where I can actually remember songs that have impacted my life being released (I only started really listening to Nirvana in the 7th grade, four years after Kurt Cobain's death). I'm reaching a point in my consumption of pop culture where I no longer have to appreciate good music retroactively, but can recall when something, currently, affected me along with the rest of the world.

Speaking of Interpol, I am listening to Antics right now, which I must say for the record is a very, very good album. For some reason I dismissed it upon its release, but I suppose the new (and utterly boring) Our Love to Admire has given Antics a new found glow. "Not Even Jail" might be one of my favorite Interpol songs ever.

It's also strange how Interpol have managed to tap into the much-maligned "frat" community, while being possibly the gayest New York band without any actual gay members. There were so many broad-shouldered dudes (not that I'm complaining) fist-pumping the air and yelling incomprehensible lyrics it could have very well been any other event at Madison Square Garden. And don't even get them started on the opening bands (Liars and Cat Power, who were both excellent)

Current Music: Interpol - Antics

I've decided to like The View. Despite their shaky Mercury Lounge showcase earlier this month (um, why does it feel like it was about 34 years ago?), Hats Off to the Buskers is a really good garage pop record, and is kind of helping my get through the sub-zero NYC winter--speaking of, what in the fucking shit? I swear people are losing shit to frostbite out there.

I'm interviewing Kaiser Chiefs tomorrow and NOTHING is ready. Both venues we had booked for the photoshoot have fallen through and there's nothing we can really do about it now, as the interview is tomorrow at 12:45. Oh well. I hate it when 'Sup becomes a headache because it's SO not worth stressing out about. I have a real job for that, thanks.

I've just watched 9 Songs, which was somewhat enjoyable despite it being really, really sparse, though I suppose that was the point of the entire film. You can only film people fucking and going to concerts for so long. What's kind of funny about it, was that if you're somewhat in touch with music, it's so obvious that it takes place in 2003. It was very dated, but only from a few years ago. Kind of bizarre.

Whoa, I haven't seen a movie that good in quite a while. If you haven't seen in yet, fucking RUN to the theater before it's too late. I waited too long myself. Who knew Del Toro had it in him? Who knew that, from Mimic to Blade II, he was just waiting to unleash some deeply heavy shit on us? Brilliant.

For all of you on Last.fm, I started a new profile on that too (my hundreds of Kaiser Chiefs plays! :( ). Add ghettofuture.

Saturday night I hung out with Alex at the What's Your Rupture? house party, where Best Fwends, The Blankket and caUSE co-MOTION! played. Oh, and this crazy drunk bitch crowd-surfed across the living room and felt up everyone in a five mile radius. It was kind of all sorts of awesome.

All I have to say is, thank God for Kristina and late-night/early morning phone conversations.

In the past two nights, I have dreamed:

1. That I was BFF with Jay-Z, and he helped me edit 'Sup articles on his laptop while shopping in a swanky department store. I was all: "Oh Sean, you're so sweet!" He was actually kind of a fox in that dream.

2. That I kept, in a sort of repeated Mobius strip pattern, going from Long Blondes show to Long Blondes show, and only catching the tail-end of their set. Like, I would leave one LB show and say: "I think I'll go catch the end of the LB set across the street," where I would see one or two songs, then go, "Hm, I think the LBs are playing around the corner," and so on and so forth. Just before I woke up, it started snowing, all of the indie kids in berets and leggings started putting their pea coats over their heads, and some dude said to me: "You always seem to be catching the end of Long Blondes shows... but you never quite know how their sets got so short, do you?" I know, deep right?

I'm so scared to analyze these dreams.

God, I love Hadouken!. I'm going to be posting their Bloc Party remix to DN in a while. Their next remix is ¡Forward, Russia! Jubilation.