I write my usual contact and ask if I can make it onto the guest list. That’ll only get me two spots. I go on Craigslist and see that some tickets are going for $150 apiece. I email several people who are pricing them more reasonably, and through a rapid succession of replies establish that I’m to pay $150 for two, in Washington Square, at 7pm. “Let me know if anything changes, please!”, he says. Exclamation point.

In the meantime I haven’t heard back from my colleague about the guest list, when out of nowhere arrives an email from Robbie, who manages promotions for one of the openers and can get me on their list. So, that’s it then, right?, two plus two is four. Unfortunately I don’t have the phone number for the guy I’m meeting in Washington Square, and I haven’t heard from him in hours. So I just have to arrive there at 7 on faith that he’ll, I dunno, be like standing on the corner waving two tickets over his head? Just as we’re about to hop into a cab to go meet him, he emails: “Hey man, I had to get rid of them earlier b/c I am about to leave town. I’m sorry for the late short notice.”

So, fuck, I run back onto Craigslist and find another pair going for $150, I email the guy offering him $170, he agrees, we’re to meet outside The Paradise at 8.

Get there, not on the list, opener doesn’t have a list, make some calls, pay the guy (+$10 for luck), get some calls, drink some beers, wait, wait, plead, fib, wait, get some calls, shit. No guest list. Shit. Sell the tickets at an $80 loss.

Ride despondently down to PA’s where, rather than drowning in hipsters and seeing a middling band at a sold-out show sponsored by WFNX, we see Vialka, who are incredible.

I think I remember wanting to steal it with Ben. What I know I remember is talking to Greg and Satomi before the show, and them walking away awkwardly when I failed to recognize that we had stopped talking and that I was just grinning at them.

I bought five CDs, two t-shirts, and Greg gave me a drink ticket as thanks. I used to keep it but I think I’ve since thrown it away.

Ben was un-ironically wearing a Metallica t-shirt, and I remember finding that amusing. He also scorned the guy from No Doctors because, as a doctor, he decided to take their name personally. To which the guy said: “No Doctors need doctors; and doctors need No Doctors.” I think he was the flautist.

It got up to like 82 today, and is supposed to climb to 91 on Wednesday. I think what this means is that I have to:

1. go to Magic Night this week
2. ride/walk around while I can

I thought that was going to be a more extensive list. I’d like to go to the beach but I think the opportunity to sweat at the beach has expired. I mean fall’s great, really great, but that dream scared me.

This Thursday at TT’s are The Ladybug Transistor and The fucking Lucksmiths. If that has sold out already I’m gonna be pissed off.

News flash: The new múm album sucks.

Concerts:

• May 20: Frog Eyes: never not good, but come on, play your slow stuff. Carey was way uncharacteristically making awful jokes and smiling, so I can only assume he was more drunk than usual.
• May 24: Mice Parade: boring (sorry)
• May 28: Lightning Bolt/DMBQ: SOLD FUCKING OUT (shoulda known)
• June 2: CSS: really very hot and good but uneventful
• June 5: Great Lake Swimmers: the Sea and Cake show probably sucked anyway
• June 7: Black Moth Super Rainbow / Architecture in Helsinki: FUCKING HELL. Out of AiH, BMSR, and “Santogold,” BMSR went FIRST. Who the fuck do Santogold think they are. Me to BMSR: “I thought you guys were going on second.” BMSR to me: “So did we.” AiH suck.
• June 9: The Clientele / Beach House: that Beach House girl is obnoxious, but they sounded great at the MFA; The Clientele are wonderful as always and Alasdair charmed all our pants off. They did play: “Reflections After Jane.” They did not play: “As Night Is Falling.”
• June 10: WEEN: FUCKING WEEEEN (this show lasted for 2.5 hours on Hampton Beach and was virtually identical to their 2003 Avalon show and, I imagine, to every show they’ve done in between). Limited edition posters №s 140-142/150.

Here’s a track from the new Fridge album.

So this is pretty good I guess. They seem to have toned things down a bit since Strange Geometry, landing them somewhere closer to The Violet Hour. But something about Alasdair’s voice is getting really grating. I don’t like that thing where the band opens with a few bars, and then he begins a verse with one precious staccato syllable. But I do like typing the name “Alasdair.” The new dedicated violinist doesn’t get in the way too much. And I haven’t listened to the lyrics closely enough to know why I should hate them yet. Oh who am I kidding, it’s no good. Shut up about the rain already. There just isn’t a lot of straightforward pop that I like much at all lately, but I want to have something.

Anyway I’ve missed far too many shows lately for what are probably insufficient reasons. Blonde Redhead (sold out), The Books (sold out), Trans Am (lazy), Sunset Rubdown (lazy, despite having won tickets), The Album Leaf (lazy, despite having won tickets), Electrelane (lazy), to only name a few. If you don’t see me at Frog Eyes this Sunday and Lightning Bolt/DMBQ in two Mondays, get real mad at me.

I might go to New York tomorrow, I might not, although it’s gonna be soaking wet all weekend.

They planted a tiny tree outside my bedroom window.

Things I’m looking forward to in the next week:

• Tears of the Valedictorian on Tuesday
• Bishop Allen at The Middle East Upstairs tomorrow night
• Acid Mothers Temple at The Middle East Upstairs Saturday night
• Trans Am at Great Scott on Wednesday night
• Sunset Rubdown at The Middle East Downstairs next Saturday

The other day I downloaded and installed Pine. I’m having some difficulty getting it to use my SMTP server. I don’t need it, but I’m drawn to technologies that appear obsolete but that manage to survive heartily in spite of it, especially text-based ones — Pine is “robust” and “stalwart” and other strong, respectable adjectives. My real motivation though is that it’s what we used to access our email at U of I, and I want to relive that, because I’m a huge sap. What browser did I use back then anyway? 

I got episode 1 of TV Party this week, and I’m trying my damnedest to rip it using MediaCoder, but I’m having troubles. FairUse might be a viable alternative, but I don’t have enough free space on my internal drive to try it out at the moment.

At last weekend’s Times New Viking show, they didn’t play “We Got Rocket.”

Also, what is this shit?:

Times New Viking at P.A.’s Lounge this Saturday!!!

Hopefully I’ll take pictures. Frequently when things like this happen, I plan to, but never do. Tomorrow there’s a long break between the ceremony and the reception, during which time we’ll probably visit this American art museum in our duds.

This weekend does mean, however, that I will be missing tomorrow’s Xiu Xiu/Casiotone/Pants Yell! show tomorrow at TT’s, which really sucks. But next week I will see some or all of: Junior Boys, Mono (probably sold out, on second thought, fuck), Rjd2, and The Books (is it worth a Ticketmaster $5.50 convenience fee to get these before they sell out?).

Oh and Monday I saw Parenthetical Girls at PA’s, which was one of my favorite shows ever.

I dreamt that I:

• Saw Essex Green at TT’s, and was drunk and disappointed
• Bought the new Air record, and was disappointed
• Saw Red Sparowes at TT’s on Thursday, and was drunk
• Played Wii for the first time at Jon’s place on Friday night, and was disappointed
• Saw Clinic and Holy Fuck at the Middle East Downstairs on Saturday, and was pleased
• Saw Pan’s Labyrinth on Saturday afternoon at the Harvard Loews, and thought it was very good

There were more parts, but truthfully I don’t remember them.

It’s 60 degrees, and I may go to Magic Night in Harvard Square tonight.

The show was last night at the Middle East Downstairs. She was deathly ill, though it wasn’t noticeable outside of her doubling over coughing between songs and apologizing profusely for the fact that she might die. The sound wasn’t as clean as it is on the album, and her voice was drowned significantly by the music, but her vocal range was more impressive than I’d realized just listening to them.

Of all the things that people do “profusely,” they probably apologize the most.