Into The Groove

12.27.04

In preparation for my seven hour flight to London tonight, I headed to the nearest bookshop to buy Genya Ravan's Lollipop Lounge: Memories Of A Rock And Roll Refugee, but stumbled upon something more intriguing. Lost In The Grooves- Scram magazine's Capricious Guide To The Music You Missed- someone please tell me why I was not aware of this brilliant new book? I flipped through the pages and flipped out. All hail writer Kelly Kuvo for selecting Megadeth's Rust In Peace as one of metal's overlooked classics. And the blurb about Spanish-pop lolita, Jeanette nearly brought tears to my eyes (if you haven't read my article on Jeanette, please do so now). Aaron "brother of a Backstreet Boy " Carter even gets a listing- a clear indication of the open minds behind this book. Visit http://www.lostinthegrooves.com/ to find out more.

I recently discovered that there's a difference between Broadway and off-Broadway plays. Broadway plays suck, and (depending on the topic of course) Off-Broadway plays can be thoroughly entertaining. Although my heart lies with wine and not Mary Jane, the Marijuana-Logues was hysterical. Fun for even non-stoners like me. But Dave Gorman's Googewhack Adventure takes the cake. It's way too hard to explain, so check his website for more details. If you're in New York go see it. You can trust me on this one.

Time to pack.

Sheila

Posted by Sheila at 05:32 PM

Raining In My Sunshine

12.22.04

The title has no relevance to this post whatsoever. But I think it's gorgeous and I needed to make use of it somehow. I think it's the name of a song by Jay & The Americans. I must hear it.

It's been a good couple weeks- saw the Pixies play, found a record I've been looking for FOREVER, worked on new articles for the site (they'll be up next week), and listened to Dusty Springfield over and over again (to make up for lost time). Then I listened to Cilla Black (thinking perhaps that I might've wrongly pre-judged her like I had Dusty) only to find that I dislike her even more. To all British folk who think fondly of Cilla Black- I understand Cilla is a symbol of your beloved country like tea and warm beer, but that doesn't mean you have to like her records. I'm sure Americans suffer from similar delusions in regards to artists and icons, but since I'm not officially American, I won't shoulder any blame for Bob Dylan and the like.

Watch this video- it's cute.

Sheila

Posted by Sheila at 11:59 AM

Bust N' Boots

12.11.04

Only at Bust magazine parties do I get to explore my girliest DJ dreams. And it's probably the only gig where I don't get inundated by requests for hip-hop and Led Zeppelin. There were no cringes when I played ABBA's "One Of Us," and my xmas theme (including the cutest '60s Japanese versions of "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" and "Donda Este Santa Claus") went down swimmingly!

I promised Mike I'd include his pic in this week's diary- so here's the sole photo we took together at the party. He'd like all the ladies to know that he's single. But potential candidates should have no history of mental retardation in the family, and they must have at least one year of plow experience. Aight?

I interviewed the ever-gracious Nancy Sinatra for the latest issue of BUST (Dec/ Jan 2005), so please pick up a copy! Nancy couldn't have been more down to earth and easy to talk to. I've gained a whole new respect for the woman. Also, I did a short Q&A with Surferosa in the same issue, and there's also a fascinating article about why so many American women are turning to Islam.

Sheila

Posted by Sheila at 10:08 AM

If I Ever Feel Better

12.03.04

At age six I discovered the awful truth- the Bee Gees were not the glamorous girl group I had imagined. They were a bunch of hairy men. I was heartbroken. Fortunately, Madonna and ABBA and Barbara Streisand / Donna Summer's "Enough Is Enough" came to the rescue and helped with my recovery. But from that day on I knew I wanted my artists female. I've never quite been able to explain my preference for female artists, but I do know that most girls prefer male musicians. Ratio of males to females at the recent Donnas' NYC gig: 4:1. Girl group fans? 90% male. Cha Cha Charming readers? 80% male. Fascinating huh? You'd think that only girls visit my very pink, ultra girly site. No no no.

But even in my big heart full of girls, I have a little pocket reserved for the boys. Danish band Mew are my #1. Swedish band Melody Club have also secured a place. And after last night, French group Phoenix have made me realize that not all boy bands are boring and derivative. Phoenix played Bowery Ballroom last night, and it was spectacular. Usually I need to be well-alcoholed to get into a gig, but last night I got drunk on the crowd's enthusiasm, the near-perfect sound, and Phoenix's impeccable performance (and only one glass of wine). New York City crowds are rarely receptive, but they gave Phoenix an unforgettable night. The extended version "If I Ever Feel Better" got everybody grinning, singing, and dancing. My friend Mike said they sounded too much like Jamiroquai. I hate Jamiroquai!

Sheila

Posted by Sheila at 02:41 PM

Allison

12.01.04

The Donnas played at Webster Hall last night (NYC's cheesiest nightclub-cum-rock venue), and I situated myself in front of guitarist Allison Robertson, my new hero. I've never been totally crazy about the Donnas, just as I've never been totally crazy about the Ramones. But I'm loving their new album Gold Medal and all of its '80s prog-metal riffs, cowbells, and metallic solos (pay attention all former Dokken and Queensryche fans!).

Alison has got the moves and grooves of Angus Young (ACDC), the coolest 70s shaggy haircut (to hide those eyes), and the chops to compete with the world's best shredders. I'm secretly jealous.

I've always dreamed of being a kick-ass metal guitar player. When I returned to New York from London in 1997, I enrolled in guitar school and practiced 8 hours a day. My lead was kinda sucky, but I could play rhythm perfectly. I could play along to Megadeth's speediest tracks. I started to work with a private instructor (one of those ultra-cheesy metal guys who wore shirts to expose his hairy chest, cheap cowboy boots, and loads of scarves dangling from everywhere), who was determined to help me become the ultimate guitarist. Everything was going just fine and dandy until one lesson, he (I forgot his name) wanted to teach me this strange rhythm technique that he swore would take me weeks to master. He played it once, and asked me to play it back to him. I did. When I finished, he got up out of his chair and gave me a kiss on the lips. I was stunned. Seriously, I was frozen in my seat. He explained that he was just oh so amazed that I had pulled off the lick and he had to kiss me. Ha! I didn't say anything, and we just continued with the lesson.

When I got home, I was completely traumatized and furious at myself for not kicking him in the balls, or shouting to his wife (!) in the next room to tell her about her pathetic husband. I ditched my next lessons and never called him again. But from that day on I lost complete interest in guitar. I didn't touch the guitar for years, and never really questioned why. Two months later I fell in love with Japanese, and put all my energy into that.

So I guess when I see girls my age like Allison Robertson, I think about the past and my goals and my beautiful Jackson guitar (that I purchased because Marty Friedman from Megadeth played one). All I can say is that Allison blew my mind, and now I can live vicariously through her. I am a Donnas fan forever.

Sheila

Posted by Sheila at 05:59 PM