Cooper Young Festival Line-up

Cooper-Young Fest will be held this year on September 16th. It's a GREAT line-up - sure wish I was gonna be in town to see it!!

Stage Time Set Length Name

East 12:30 PM 45 Val June

East 1:30 PM 45 Chess Club

East 2:30 PM 45 The Lights

East 3:30 PM 45 Jamie Randolph

East 4:30 PM 45 Arma Secreta

Congo 11:30 PM 30 New Ballet

Congo 12:15 PM 45 Delta Groove Revolution

Congo 1:15 PM 45 FreeWorld

Congo 2:15 PM 45 Hope Clayburn

Congo 3:15 PM 45 Los Cantadores

Congo 4:15 PM 45 Afrissippi

Cooper 12:30 PM 45 David Brookings

Cooper 1:30 PM 45 Paul Taylor and Family

Cooper 2:30 PM 45 Kim Richardson and William Lee Ellis

Cooper 3:30 PM 45 Mark McKinney and Friends

Cooper 4:30 PM 45 HalfAcre Gunroom

Main 11:30 PM 30 Rhythm Realm

Main 12:15 PM 45 U of M Jazz band

Main 1:15 PM 45 Rev. Whalum and New Olivet Choir

Main 2:15 PM 45 Esque

Main 3:15 PM 45 Tunnel Clones

Main 4:15 PM 45 Brad Postlethwaite and Friends

Main 5:15 PM 1hr 15 min The Bo Keys and Al Kapone

The Rumors Are Not True

Drue and I are not dating, we are starting a band..

Last Night @ Dish

Apply Directly To The Forehead

This is a Warning

Good Thing Cory Doesn't Read the Internet

and if he does, I'm totally blaming this on Roy.

Bring Your Own Weenie

Engrish

I was just reminded by something I saw online of this t-shirt I got on my trip to Tokyo. All I wanted was a shirt with Japanese characters on it, but every shirt on Shibuya had English on it, albeit very bad English...

Memphis Music @ Otherlands

Here's a couple new clips from Blair Combest and Miss Holly Cole that I recorded for the Scenestars Live! feature on my other site. I think I finally figured out all the parameters to make them look decent. For more info on the songs you should head on over there...

I have a lot more clips of great live music to come...

Tomorrow there might be another song up from Ben Nichols...

Mile High Club

Friday night I attended another party from those crazy midtown kids The Memphis Feelharmonic Symphony Orchestra. I wasn't able to go until after 1 AM after I saw Steve Simmons and Blair Combest @ Otherlands, and Jeffrey James and the Haul and Brad Postlethwaite and Friends @ The Hitone...don't ever accuse me of not making sacrifices for the rock!!!

The good news is that both the Snowglobe CD release and the MFHDJSO shows were P-A-C-K-E-D! Things are happening here in Mempho...you heard it here first!

Check out some pics from Mile High after the jump...

See The Rest Here

Neighborhood Texture Jam Nostalgia Trip

Midtown favorites Neighborhood Texture Jam reunited for a special performance at the Hi-Tone last night. NTJ, named when barking dogs and shouting kids from the neighborhood joined in during one of their early jams, was started in 1984 by then-Rhodes College students Joe Lapsley and Ed Scott. According to their bio, their earliest gigs were at "the Pub at Rhodes College (where they received a lifetime ban due to damage caused by the crowd and the band), Beale Street (from which they were chased by police), and the Antenna Club (after which one band member was arrested and the rest fled town)."

At some of their most memorable shows they opened for themselves under pseudonyms such as Snerd, Foon, Duj, Muke, and Asian Bedfellow (Chinese blues). Attendees last night were trested to NTJ's very own rock opera, "Frank Rizzo at Colonus," followed by two hours of funk jams including two of my personal favorites, "Gorilla Pimp" and "Don't Get Loud With Me Bitch!"

Drummer Paul Buchignani ihas played with everyone from Harlan T. Bobo to Jamie Randolph to Mini Van Blues Band. He also has a side project with NTJ'ers Tee and Steve called High and Mighty that plays big rock.

NTJ members still hang out and they try to play together every couple of years or so.

"Oddly, people say we're better now than we ever were. Maybe the freshness of it brings that out. ... I don't know," says Whittemore.

I remember seeing these guys all of the time when I was fresh out of high school. They played a very memorable show at The Omni New Daisy in 1992 in a boxing ring. NTJ was always like the anti-skinheads that came out of the one of the more scholarly universities in the area as shown on the following exercise in intellect:

Frank Rizzo at Colonus

A Dramatic Rockatorio in Three Acts
by
Neighborhood Texture Jam

Overture

Act I, Parricide

Nightstick in the Cummerbund
You Killed Me
I Know How To Handle Colored People

Act II, Incest

The Breasts Loom
Virgin/Whore

Act III, The Furies

The Battle of Midway
The Transfiguration of Rizzo

The Secret Service opened, yo9u can check out pics from their performance and a feature I wrote about them here.

The full NTJ show is after the jump...

ACT I

Nightstick in the Cummerbund

(Frank Rizzo is called away from a Fraternal Order of Police dinner because of a disturbance.)

This is how we show our
class, having a nice event
Providing for family, under
one big tent,
making the city clean, we
are the backbone men,
we're in our formal wear,
and we know what's fair
This is how we get the job
done, nightstick in the
cummerbund

This is how we keep the
class, build community
Now w're coming hard
keep the lowlifes down
teaching the hard lessons,
to those who overstep,
white as our tablecloth
only some get in

You Killed Me
(Frank Rizzo kills a black man on the street, who is his father.)

You bought the deal and
the power you feel you
thought race was real, you
saw i was black the green
light to attack, the good
folks at your back,
Cause you killed me, and
I'm one of your own, you
don't know what you're
doing Frank
You can't see, we're the
heart of it all, you don't
know what you're doing Frank
You thought you were
sorting things out, you
don't know what you're
doing Frank,
Spring up from me,
smashing me down, you
don't know what you're
doing Frank

I Know How To Handle Colored People
(Frank Rizzo boasts of his ability to maintain a racial hierarchy through intimidation, coercion and violence)

Handle 'em a lot with my
brother Joe
It's a big cheesesteak,
down in Philly, hanging
with Bruno, Gino and
VInce
We have the white guys
moral code, primitive
instincts, decent goals
We're a lot alike with
other whites, keeping it
white, cause we know it
right,
We worked so hard then,
right off the boat, some
folks don't get it, so we
show them the ropes,
We got our Bishop, got our
turf, so we draw the line in the dirt

ACT II

The Breasts Loom
(Frank Rizzo is drawn inexorably toward his mother)

Instrumental

Virgin/Whore
(Frank Rizzo engages in technical coitus with his mother)

Mother, not dirty, purity
not like the girlies
yearning, surging,
merging, womb-world
Mommy, purity
My shrine to you is like a
grotto in the sky, your
voice is shimmering like a
sacred lullaby
Virgin, Holy
Mommy, enfold me

ACT III

The Battle of Midway
(Frank Rizzo blinds humself upon his self-revelation and is sentenced by The Furies to sit on top of Agaki, a Japanese aircraft carrier destroyed and sank in June 1942 in the Pacific Ocean)

(scramble)
(struggle)
(death of Rizzo)

The Transfiguration of Rizzo
(Frank Rizzo is transfigured into the spirit of Mumia Abu-Jamal)

With the death of Rizzo
and his machinations,
humanity can now emerge,
Though it seems like
magic, fantastic greek and
tragic, its struggles fought
and voices heard
Its just like a Pheonix the
owl of Minierva, morphing
light before our eyes
And riding over the City
of Philedelphia Mumia Abu-Jamal
The viciousness of rizzo
in all its permutations
cannot be allowd to stand
His unwitting soul will not
grow old at Midway he
dies today

Rizzo had his reasons now
he's at Colonus, in his
grave he dwells
His tale is a metaphor full
of sorrow and gore of how
we fuck ourselves

See the rest of the photos

This comment is from another blig that mentioned NTJ:

Neighborhood Texture Jam, fronted by Joe Lapsley, was and still is (reunite at the Hi Tone in Memphis on July 22, 2006) the most talented group of guys to ever weave the rhythms and emotions of hardcore music into songs that shake the foundations of your soul. An NTJ show is a spiritual awakening for those who have let the energy and rebellion of life slip away. Their three albums are incredible creations, but if you ever got to see them live, you witnessed a paramount group of Memphis legends.

See also...The Story of NTJ's Demise

Villain Is A Keeper

Over the weekend I was floored by how many people mentioned to me the not-so-positive review that was given to Jamie Randolph's new record Villain in Friday's Commercial Appeal Playbook. My first reaction was to be amazed by how many people recalled that I wrote a more flattering profile on Randolph a few weeks ago. Then after reading Mark Jordan's review myself, whom I am aquainted with and in general seems to be a very cool person and is associated with friends of mine that I have the utmost respect for, I feel compelled to address this album again.

I wrote my original article, which was a feature and not a record review, after listening to the record a few times and finding it to be enjoyable, but more so because of the "newsworthiness" of the album (i.e. recorded at Ardent, Jody Stephens connection, Randloph is a former member of a popular Memphis band (Retrospect), produced by Matt Martone (Three Doors Down), new record label with Memphis ties formed, many prominent Memphis musicians played on the record (Harry Peel, Paul Buchiniagni)). However, Randolph's record is one of the few that I have received this year in a press kit that I have continued to listen to consistently after I had written my peice on it and moved on to the next batch of promos.

I get three or four records in the mail every week. I try to listen to them all reasonably promptly, but I will admit that always doesn't happen. I don't know how anyone else's process works, but I will explain mine. Often when you know that you have a hot record in your hand, in the case of my website, you try to get something written about it immediately because the internet is a race for who has the most up-to-date content. I hate that it works this way, because I just can't always make a decision about a record in a couple of hours, I need months! I need to listen to a record 50 times before I can make a final decision on whether I like it or not. There are many albums that at first listen I thought were great (Arcade Fire, Bloc Party ), but I quickly lost interest because they were so one-demensional. I wholeheartedly admit that I appreciate music based on it's content, akin to a great poem, rather than just the way that it sounds. Music is a fad, different sounds go in and out of style (does anyone else think that it's kind of funny that in the late 70's/early '80's people that loved punk hated people that loved disco, and vice versa, and right now the hottest trend going is combining the two?).

Music that relies solely on the beat tend to not keep it's shelf-life very long. There are no layers to the songs to pull apart. You know what I mean, there are certain artists and songs that every time you listen to them you get something new (Aimee Mann, Bjork, Elvis Costello). That's what makes meaningful art for me. I remember receiving a promo of Aimee Mann's record Lost in Space , ripping it open and excitedly putting it into my stereo, only to be highly disappointed with the songs. I just didn't get it. Two years later I put the disc in again and fell in love. Now, I think it's a classic.

This is what I have learned to love about Randolph's album: I get something new out of it every time Iisten to it. I let the first song, Maria, flow over me without much notice the first 20 times I heard it, looking forward to the second song, Wine Kings, and then one day the first song hit me like a ton of bricks and tears streamed down my face. I felt it hard...and it took 20 listens to get me there.

Which makes me think that Jordan either just didn't give the record enough spins to connect with it or he just can not relate to the themes that Randolph writes about (losing someone you are obsessed with, an experience I've been through a couple of times). Jordan is obviously grasping for what to write about in his review as he makes way too many coffee references. What he does get right is the Harlan T. Bobo and Damien Rice references, two other artists that I've been known to have a hard-on for. Even though Jordan uses the references to try and say that Randolph is not in the same caliber as these two artists, that they are mentioned as in the same vein should be the thing taken from the point. Personally, I think it's a high compliment to be measured by these two artists. My favorite thing about all three artists is that they strengthen the example that it takes so much more courage to admit vulnerability than to just be angry. Admitting vulnerability is the same as admitting that you are helpless, which can be one of the scariest things that we, as humans, can face whether it be from loss of love, sickness, or death. Anger comes from when you still believe that you should have control but ultimately don't. Anger comes from fear and can be seen through pretty easily and dismissed. But how do you dismiss pain when it is freely admitted?

And that's my problem with Jordan's review. He admits the "professional sheen" and the "first-class packaging job" but dismisses the content because the "songs meander from cozy chair to cozy chair without ever settling in" suggesting that the record is wimpy. But here's the thing: coziness comes when you are comfortable, and there is a strange comfortability that comes with admitting powerlessness. It's extremely courageous and deserves more repect. It gives you strength, and that's why I think Villain is a strong and powerful record. It might not be cool to have violin and piano on your record right now, but this disc is the kind of album that will remain in people's music collections and continue to be listened to as the trends in music continue to change. The music is complex and moving, and this record will be on my year end "Best Of" list.

You should make up your own mind. You can listen to Jamie Randolph's album Villain in my radio blog (it's in the sidebar).

Ben Nichols @ Otherlands

Don't miss Blair Combest Tonight!!!

Oh, Irony of Ironies

Yes, it's true, all day I basically sit around in my underwear, read blogs, watch youtube and argue with people on message boards. Occasionally I read a book or watch a downloaded documentary. It's a full life.

Anysnore, one of the latest forum discussions resulted in someone calling the Kroger on Cleveland and Poplar "ghetto." As a matter of fact, it is affectionately referred to by some as Kroghetto. Now one specific person on said forum who I won't name (but is in a band named after the mentally challenged , three people who read this blog will probably be able to figure out who I am referring to and the irony involved) became miffed that this particular grocery store was referred to as ghetto, pointing out that calling somwthing "ghetto" is a thinly-veiled pc way of saying black (or much worse).

I retorted that I personally called it ghetoo because it is dirty, and poor people shop there (including me!) Oh, and I see people all the time up in there in they houseshoes.

Anyway - the argument went on and then in another thread I was warned to stay awsy from the ghetto Kroger if i didn't want to git kilt.

Then today, this story comes out:

REAKING NEWS updated at 12:45 p.m.: Several People Stabbed At Memphis Schnucks
Posted: 7/21/2006 9:43:08 AM

The suspected stabber was taken to the Med. We're not sure yet if he was hurt or how he was hurt.

Insert Your Own Punchline

Want To Be An Extra In A Music Video?

erception Films is shooting downtown early tomorrow morning for a music video for a song by Tim Jones. They are looking for extras to be in the video. Here's the info.:

Timothy Jones music video entitled "Strangers" will be shot this Saturday, July 22nd. If you would like to be an extra in this pop music video, please wear fashionable, dark toned clothes. We will meet in front of the restaurant Blue Fin, downtown at 6:30am. If you have any questions, Please email perceptionfilms@hotmail.com.

Too early for me, but this could be your chance at stardom!

In Case You Were Wondering

Tim Regan is a Movie Star

My Dog Is Smarter Than Yours

Last night after I went to see Cory Branan (Excellent show, btw) I went over to the Deli and picked up some takeout. I was going to meet up with Mark, but he took too long to show up so I got my food and headed home. When I got here I sat down in my desk chair and started to check my email. I also opened up my food and started snacking on the fries. Well, my dog was pretty adament about getting his share, so while I sat in the dark with only the light from my computer on in my house, I flicked him fries while I went through my inbox

Then, because he was being so annoying, I tried to replace one of the fries with the pickle that came with my sandwich. He took it excitedly and then spit it out on the ground, as if to say, 'Fuck that noise"

Every time after that when I offered him a fry he checked it out thoroughly before indulging. I think I hurt his feelings.

I know everyone thinks their dog is an effing genius, and I've definitely had my moments when I've pondered if my own is really a person, trapped in a dog's body, reincarnated to live out the life of a canine in order to pay for the sins of a prior life, pefectly able to understand everything that is going on but unable to communicate his plight.

Then I see him licking his balls and it I realize that he is just a dog. But then again...

Brad Bailey of The Glass Solo @ Otherlands

New Feature on Scenestars

I hate that we didn't get a shot of the packed house...

Good Times!

Question: Can anyone recommend some really good compression software - we used Quicktime Pro and I hate that we lost so much quality!

holla back!

Thursday Night Fever

God, that never gets old!

Chess Club CD Release

Prince Mongo Is Back!

He posted a bulletin on Myspace today...

Hello Good Spirits!

-Prince Mongo

His video is quite fascinating - see it here:

http://www.myspace.com/prince_mongo

18th Annual Blues on the Bluff

Too Much Music!!!

Yeah, that was a Harlan reference - if you missed his show Friday night, well, your loss I guess...

This Friday night there are a ton of great shows happening. I am not sure how I am going to fit them all in....

Kicking things off at Otherlands will be Steve Simmons and Blair Combest - if things go as they did last week (which was an incredible show featuring Brad Bailey of The Glass and Ben Nichols of Lucero playing to a packed house, get there early if you want a seat) Steve will probably go on around 8 and Blair will hit the stage around 9:15 or so. I have video of last week that I will be sharing with you shortly.

After that I want to try to swing down to the New Daisy to catch Arma Secreta and Jamie Randolph:

The circle back into midtown to see Brad Postlethwaite play his CD release party at The Hitone - his new album is fantastic - you can read about it in my profile on Brad in friday's Playbook.

Then of course, I plan to end the evening at The Full Moon Club where The Memphis FEELHARMONIC will be hosting another out of control dance party:

We'll sleep when we're dead.

Sunday Nights At The Hitone

It's A Farewell Party

.......a rare appearance by Todd's Uncle Joe...and it's free!

Join Ms. Jo, Bob, Matt and the gang, Saturday, July 17 @ the world famous P&H Cafe and bid a fond farewell to The Internationals. It's either a sad day for Memphis Music, or they're doing a lot of musicians a favor by getting out of the business. You decide.

Girls, it's your last chance to throw yourself at an International, Don't miss out!

Birthdays Are Fun

So, I could tell you about the Indie Music Showcase that was held Wednesday night downtown at the Gibson Lounge that was sponsored by the Memphis Music Foundation and featured the talents of Jamie Randolph and the Bloodsuckers, Will Graves, The Secret Service, Fee Sol and The Rusty Lemon Band. But you should have been there.

Instead, I thought I would enlighten you with what happens when it's your friends birthday and all the bars have closed.

Don't worry, i was the designated driver, ya'll.

See the rest here.

Ridiculous Celebrity Thoughts

Two ridiculous celebrity related opinions:

The whole Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes baby conspiracy seems totally ridiculous to me. If I had a newborn I would not be dragging it every where I went ala Britney. If I had the money to afford a nanny I would certainly not want my child to be raised by him or her, but I would also certainly use the advantage to get out of the house to do things without having to drag the kid around. Especially when you know that you are going to be hunted by photographers.

Secondy, I have always thought it was ridiculous how much time we spend paying attention to celebrities' lives. This became abundently clear yesterday when I was watching a rerun of The Ellen Degeneris Show when Jennifer Anniston was a guest. After watching the first segment of the show it hit me that I had just wasted 15 minutes of my life that I will never get back watching two celebrities give each other gifts and talk about how great the other person was. I felt nauseous.

Carry on.

Memphis Music Tonight & Beyond

Check out this event: Ben Nichols of Lucero and Brad Bailey of The Glass

Hosted By: Otherlands Coffeebar
When: Friday Jul 14, 2006
at 7:00 PM
Where: Otherlands Coffeebar
641 S Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
US
Description:
Otherlands Coffeebar

Also:

Harlan T. Bobo at The Hitone tonight!!

Whormoans are playing Murphy's!!!

Tomorrow night:::::

The ANDY GROOMS LIVING ROOM will be playing Automatic Slim's (first solo gig in over a year) w/ a brand new band featuring: ROBERT BARNETT (big ass truck, mouse rocket etc...) LUKE WHITE (Coach & Four, Pirates) KEVIN CUBBINS, ANDY and Mark Stuart (old pawtucket brothers)

Mark Stuart says: lots of new stuff and lots of old stuff...I know it's hard to get folks downtown...Hopefully this band will stick, 'cuz it's his best lineup yet, and we will play midtown soon

Jeremy Scott Band

In respones to this comment:

I guess this is off topic, but I heard (not read) that a NEW Jeremy band (Jeremy Scott) is debuting Weds. nite at the Bucc. I have heard his originals and from the sound of his songs and some obscure cool covers, it should be very very good.

It's true.

Jeremy posted about it on the Goner Board a while back:

The following people will report to the Buccaneer on Wednesday, July 19 for a set of guitar-based tuneage:

That is all.

For anyone who doesn't know, Jeremy played with The Reigning Sound before Greg Moved to NC - he also plays bass with Harlan T. Bobo.

Quotes

So, I really love reading quotes and I think that sometimes I come up with pretty good ones so I am going to start posting them and you can tell me what you think...

here's the first:

The great thing about not reading many books is that you still get to believe that your brilliant.

or maybe you can think of how to say it better.

holla back

Um

Who reads this crap?'

Wow! I am kind of full of myself sometimes!

my bad.

Cool Show of The Week

Wreckless Eric (born Eric Goulden on May 18, 1954 in Newhaven, East Sussex, England) is a rock and roll singer/songwriter. He is best known as one of the original members of the Stiff Records artist roster, along with Ian Dury, Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe, and his biggest (non) hit record was "Whole Wide World". This, his debut single, was produced by, and featured bass (and most of the other instruments) by Nick Lowe, with Ian Dury on drums. On his website he lists some eighteen disparate acts that have covered it.

Indie Music Showcase Wenesday Night

Memphis Music Foundation Presents:

Indie Music Showcase

Downtown @ The Gibson Lounge

First Band @ 10 PM
9 PMdoors

Featuring:

Jamie Randolph
Free Sol
Secret Servive
Will Graves

It's Free! Please come support local musicians!!!

Still Saving The Internet

The Battle is in the Senate! - People are awake on the Issue - and we still need constant pressure to remind these folks that this issue does matter!

Wrestling: Memphis Style

Did anyone else's dad make them watch this?

I'm Rachel Hurley, and I Approve This Post

Ryan Carter Is No Substitute For Ryan Adams

It's true! I made a total big deal out of Drue, Emily and Will's birthday and I totally snoozed on posting the pics form Ryan Carter's monstous shindig. The one where he finally kicked us out after the ice water fight (hey, at least we where outside ths time) and Drue drinking a Sparks and writhing on the ground. My favorite moment of the evening came when my friends (we are always the last to leave the party if there is still alcohol, and the first to leave if there is not) carried Ms Drue out towards my car and she crawled in my back seat and stood on her head. She casually asked where we were headed and as I told her that I was going to take Derrick home, who lives near Highland, she immediately sobered up, announced she wasn't going to Highland and jumped out of my car. Gotta love her.

Ryan of Memphis Pizza Cafe

Anna and Cory

Cameron of Young Avenue Sound and Amy D.

Dirk and Jake from Augustine

Matt from Jung Shin, Brad form Snowglobe, Patrick from Noise Choir

Greg and Tony from Antique Curtains

Witnesse, Devil Flake, Drue, Handsone Mark

Brad from Arma Secreta

No last names have been used in order to protect the innocent.

Yes, I only go to parties with rock stars. Sue me.

More Crazy Pictures

Holding My Breath For September

I'll be blogging ACL this year - and making out with Ryan Adams...

And you know about this, right?

I just got off the phone with Gavin from Camera Obscura. (They're playing at The Hitone next thursday, dontchaknow?) Do you know how hard it is to talk on a cell phone with someone who has a scottish accent? And people think my job is easy....

For Those Who Don't Read The Daily Helmsman

you are really missing out...

Prostitution ring operating at University Center

By: Nevin Batiwalla
Contributing Writer

Fifteen dollars can get you a lot at The University Center. You can shoot pool with a friend for three hours at the Side Pocket game room, or you can drop your pants and receive oral sex from a stranger in the bathroom.

The black Sharpie written messages on the walls of the second and third floor men's bathrooms tell the story.

The messages offer oral and anal sex to "straight, curious or married guys, (ages) 18-37, anytime, white or Hispanic only."

Also within the stalls, the message, "1st floor bj," has been written in numerous places in similar handwriting. After a visit to the first floor, which is on the basement level, it is clear why.

There is a "glory hole" drilled in the wall between the two stalls in the first floor men's bathroom in The University Center. And it has been there for a while. "Glory holes" are fist-sized holes, through which people anonymously perform various sexual acts.

"I noticed it last September," said a student, who asked to remain anonymous. The junior English major said that while he was using a urinal in the first floor men's room, a man in the first stall slipped him a note, asking if he wanted oral sex. "I thought it was a joke, until I read the writings on the walls and saw the hole."

He decided to look into what was going on. He remembered the man wore New Balance shoes, and the next time he went in the bathroom he saw the same pair of shoes in the stall. He waited outside in the hall until the person left. During this time, he saw other men go into the bathroom, each staying about 30 minutes.

"I think those were his customers," he said.

Two hours passed and the student was tired of waiting for the man to exit, so he left The UC

A recent investigation by The Daily Helmsman picked up where the English major left off. A reporter accompanied by two other U of M students, observed a short, stocky balding man wearing glasses enter the restroom. An hour later, he walked through the parking garage to a visitors' lot on Zach Curlin.

During the man's stay in the restroom, several other men entered and exited in 20 to 30 minute intervals. The men's ages appeared to range from 20's to 50's. After the men left, condom wrappers were found on the floors of the stalls.

"It was creepy," said anthropology major Eric Gamble.

To verify that the men's presence in the restroom was not coincidental, the next day the reporter called one of the numbers on the wall to set up a meeting with a man.

A man answered his phone and said he would arrive shortly after 4 p.m. wearing a white T-shirt, khaki shorts and New Balance tennis shoes. He agreed to charge $15 for his services.

A reporter, photographer and two other students positioned themselves around The University Center to see if the man would show up. At 4:10, a man, considerably younger than the man seen the previous day and matching the description given on the phone, was spotted walking from Walker Avenue toward The UC He went down the stairs, walked through the camera-monitored hallway and entered the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later he exited the bathroom, walked to his Jeep Grand Cherokee parked on Walker and drove off campus.

The bathroom in question is adjacent to the Judicial Affairs office and near post office boxes and the Side Pocket game room, which is described on The University's Web site as "a safe social gathering place for U of M students, faculty and staff." However, children and teenagers also use The UC while attending various camps on campus during the summer.

"I think The University should fix the hole and inspect what's happening down there," said the English major.

According to Derek Myers, deputy director of The U of M's public safety, they have addressed the situation in the past, but nothing has stopped it.

"We have had this problem for at least the past 13 years," Myers said. "We send in a work order to physical plant to repair the hole, but the hole keeps coming back."

Myers said there have been numerous arrests for public indecency in the past, and the individuals involved are usually not affiliated with The University.

However, because it is hard to catch the violators in the act, the police usually attempt to scare off suspicious looking people, by asking for identification. Myers said no complaints of the hole or suspicious activities taking place have been filed during the past year. Myers said people who use The UC facilities often, should have notified the authorities, because the police depend on the campus community to report things that are not out in the open.

The "glory hole" has caused concern for at least one upset student.

"We pay a lot of money to go here," said the English major. "I don't want a prostitution ring on campus."

The Good Old Days

When people call me a hipster, it doesn't much phase me the way that I think they may intend it to. Out of the people I know, I definitely probably once fit the mode more than anyone. I've lived in Brooklyn, worked at Urban Outfiiters, interned at MTV, had an apartment full of Ikea, wore a Manhattan Portage, shopped on Canal, had brunch in the Meatpacking District, was plussed one every weekend, picked up my tunes at Other Music, had an Ipaq before you ever heard of an ipod, spent my fair share of time in the bathroom at 7B, spent Saturday afternoons at Strand, never stood in line at Spa, knew the owner of NorthSix, and so on, and so on...

Of course, that was a few years ago, but it all still sounds good to me...

The funny thing is that at the time, none of that seemed like it was that cool,, it was just what I did. Now I read all of these NYC blogs where people make fun of people who do these things. My life somehow became a cliche after I gave it up. Oh well, I guess it's always better to be ahead of the curve.

It's funny, cause in three years there's probably going to be a way to put people down that hang at The Hitone - or Cooper-Young, cause it will be sooooooooo over.

Life is always amusing.

Finally, A Worthy Retort

By Dave Eggers:

You actually asked me the question: "Are you taking any steps to keep shit real?" I want you always to look back on this time as being a time when those words came out of your mouth.

Now, there was a time when such a question - albeit probably without the colloquial spin - would have originated from my own brain. Since I was thirteen, sitting in my orange-carpeted bedroom in ostensibly cutting-edge Lake Forest, Illinois, subscribing to the Village Voice and reading the earliest issues of Spin, I thought I had my ear to the railroad tracks of avant garde America. (Laurie Anderson, for example, had grown up only miles away!) I was always monitoring, with the most sensitive and well-calibrated apparatus, the degree of selloutitude exemplified by any given artist - musical, visual, theatrical, whatever. I was vigilant and merciless and knew it was my job to be so.

I bought R.E.M.'s first EP, Chronic Town, when it came out and thought I had found God. I loved Murmur, Reckoning, but then watched, with greater and greater dismay, as this obscure little band's audience grew, grew beyond obsessed people like myself, grew to encompass casual fans, people who had heard a song on the radio and picked up Green and listened for the hits. Old people liked them, and stupid people, and my moron neighbor who had sex with truck drivers. I wanted these phony R.E.M.-lovers dead.

But it was the band's fault, too. They played on Letterman. They switched record labels. Even their album covers seemed progressively more commercial. And when everyone I knew began liking them, I stopped. Had they changed, had their commitment to making art with integrity changed? I didn't care, because for me, any sort of popularity had an inverse relationship with what you term the keeping 'real' of 'shit.' When the Smiths became slightly popular they were sellouts. Bob Dylan appeared on MTV and of course was a sellout. Recently, just at dinner tonight, after a huge, sold-out reading by David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell (both sellouts), I was sitting next to an acquaintance, a very smart acquaintance married to the singer-songwriter of a very well-known band. I mentioned that I had seen the Flaming Lips the night before. She rolled her eyes. "Oh I really liked them on 90210," she sneered, assuming that this would put me and the band in our respective places.

However.

Was she aware that The Flaming Lips had composed an album requiring the simultaneous playing of four separate discs, on four separate CD players? Was she aware that the band had once, for a show at Lincoln Center, handed out to audience members something like 100 portable tape players, with 100 different tapes, and had them all played at the same time, creating a symphonic sort of effect, one which completely devastated everyone in attendance? I went on and on to her about the band's accomplishments, their experiments. Was she convinced that they were more than their one appearance with Jason Priestly? She was.

Now, at that concert the night before, Wayne Coyne, the lead singer, had himself addressed this issue, and to great effect. After playing much of their new album, the band paused and he spoke to the audience. I will paraphrase what he said:

"Hi. Well, some people get all bitter when some song of theirs gets popular, and they refuse to play it. But we're not like that. We're happy that people like this song. So here it goes."

Then they played the song. (You know the song.) "She Don't Use Jelly" is the song, and it is a silly song, and it was their most popular song. But to highlight their enthusiasm for playing the song, the band released, from the stage and from the balconies, about 200 balloons. (Some of the balloons, it should be noted, were released by two grown men in bunny suits.) Then while playing the song, Wayne sang with a puppet on his hand, who also sang into the microphone. It was fun. It was good.

But was it a sellout? Probably. By some standards, yes. Can a good band play their hit song? Should we hate them for this? Probably, probably. First 90210, now they go playing the song every stupid night. Everyone knows that 90210 is not cutting edge, and that a cutting edge alternarock band should not appear on such a show. That rule is clearly stated in the obligatory engrained computer-chip sellout manual that we were all given when we hit adolescence.

But this sellout manual serves only the lazy and small. Those who bestow sellouthood upon their former heroes are driven to do so by, first and foremost, the unshakable need to reduce. The average one of us - a taker-in of various and constant media, is absolutely overwhelmed - as he or she should be - with the sheer volume of artistic output in every conceivable medium given to the world every day - it is simply too much to begin to process or comprehend - and so we are forced to try to sort, to reduce. We designate, we label, we diminish, we create hierarchies and categories.

Through largely received wisdom, we rule out Tom Waits's new album because it's the same old same old, and we save $15. U2 has lost it, Radiohead is too popular. Country music is bad, Puff Daddy is bad, the last Wallace book was bad because that one reviewer said so. We decide that TV is bad unless it's the Sopranos. We liked Rick Moody and Jonathan Lethem and Jeffrey Eugenides until they allowed their books to become movies. And on and on. The point is that we do this and to a certain extent we must do this. We must create categories, and to an extent, hierarchies.

But you know what is easiest of all? When we dismiss.

Oh how gloriously comforting, to be able to write someone off. Thus, in the overcrowded pantheon of alternarock bands, at a certain juncture, it became necessary for a certain brand of person to write off The Flaming Lips, despite the fact that everyone knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their music was superb and groundbreaking and real. We could write them off because they shared a few minutes with Jason Priestley and that terrifying Tori Spelling person. Or we could write them off because too many magazines have talked about them. Or because it looked like the bassist was wearing too much gel in his hair.

One less thing to think about. Now, how to kill off the rest of our heroes, to better make room for new ones?

We liked Guided by Voices until they let Ric Ocasek produce their latest album, and everyone knows Ocasek is a sellout, having written those mushy Cars songs in the late 80s, and then - gasp! - produced Weezer's album, and of course Weezer's no good, because that Sweater song was on the radio, right, and dorky teenage girls were singing it and we cannot have that and so Weezer is bad and Ocasek is bad and Guided by Voices are bad, even if Spike Jonze did direct that one Weezer video, and we like Spike Jonze, don't we?

Oh. No. We don't. We don't like him anymore because he's married to Sofia Coppola, and she is not cool. Not cool. So bad in Godfather 3, such nepotism. So let's check off Spike Jonze - leaving room in our brains for who??

It's exhausting.

The only thing worse than this sort of activity is when people, students and teachers alike, run around college campuses calling each other racists and anti-Semites. It's born of boredom, lassitude. Too cowardly to address problems of substance where such problems actually are, we claw at those close to us. We point to our neighbor, in the khakis and sweater, and cry foul. It's ridiculous. We find enemies among our peers because we know them better, and their proximity and familiarity means we don't have to get off the couch to dismantle them.

And now, I am also a sellout. Here are my sins, many of which you may know about already:

First, I was a sellout because Might magazine took ads.Then I was a sellout because our pages were color, and not stapled together at the Kinko's.Then I was a sellout because I went to work for Esquire.Now I'm a sellout because my book has sold many copies.And because I have done many interviews.And because I have let people take my picture.And because my goddamn picture has been in just about every fucking magazine and newspaper printed in America.

And now, as far as McSweeney's is concerned, The Advocate interviewer wants to know if we're losing also our edge, if the magazine is selling out, hitting the mainstream, if we're still committed to publishing unknowns, and pieces killed by other magazines.

And the fact is, I don't give a fuck. When we did the last issue, this was my thought process: I saw a box. So I decided we'd do a box. We were given stories by some of our favorite writers - George Saunders, Rick Moody (who is uncool, uncool!), Haruki Murakami, Lydia Davis, others - and so we published them. Did I wonder if people would think we were selling out, that we were not fulfilling the mission they had assumed we had committed ourselves to?

No. I did not. Nor will I ever. We just don't care. We care about doing what we want to do creatively. We want to be interested in it. We want it to challenge us. We want it to be difficult. We want to reinvent the stupid thing every time. Would I ever think, before I did something, of how those with sellout monitors would respond to this or that move? I would not. The second I sense a thought like that trickling into my brain, I will put my head under the tires of a bus.

You want to know how big a sellout I am?

A few months ago I wrote an article for Time magazine and was paid $12,000 for it I am about to write something, 1,000 words, 3 pages or so, for something called Forbes ASAP, and for that I will be paid $6,000 For two years, until five months ago, I was on the payroll of ESPN magazine, as a consultant and sometime contributor. I was paid handsomely for doing very little. Same with my stint at Esquire. One year I spent there, with little to no duties. I wore khakis every day. Another Might editor and I, for almost a year, contributed to Details magazine, under pseudonyms, and were paid $2000 each for what never amounted to more than 10 minutes work - honestly never more than that. People from Hollywood want to make my book into a movie, and I am probably going to let them do so, and they will likely pay me a great deal of money for the privilege.

Do I care about this money? I do. Will I keep this money? Very little of it. Within the year I will have given away almost a million dollars to about 100 charities and individuals, benefiting everything from hospice care to an artist who makes sculptures from Burger King bags. And the rest will be going into publishing books through McSweeney's. Would I have been able to publish McSweeney's if I had not worked at Esquire? Probably not. Where is the $6000 from Forbes going? To a guy named Joe Polevy, who wants to write a book about the effects of radiator noise on children in New England.

Now, what if I were keeping all the money? What if I were buying property in St. Kitt's or blew it all on live-in prostitutes? What if, for example, I was, a few nights ago, sitting at a table in SoHo with a bunch of Hollywood slash celebrity acquaintances, one of whom I went to high school with, and one of whom was Puff Daddy? Would that make me a sellout? Would that mean I was a force of evil?

What if a few nights before that I was at the home of Julian Schnabel, at a party featuring Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, and at which Schnabel said we should get together to talk about him possibly directing my movie? And what if I said sure, let's?

Would all that make me a sellout? Would I be uncool? Would it have been more cool to not go to this party, or to not have written that book, or done that interview, or to have refused millions from Hollywood?

The thing is, I really like saying yes. I like new things, projects, plans, getting people together and doing something, trying something, even when it's corny or stupid. I am not good at saying no. And I do not get along with people who say no. When you die, and it really could be this afternoon, under the same bus wheels I'll stick my head if need be, you will not be happy about having said no. You will be kicking your ass about all the no's you've said. No to that opportunity, or no to that trip to Nova Scotia or no to that night out, or no to that project or no to that person who wants to be naked with you but you worry about what your friends will say.

No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because they might have sent the wrong message.

There is a point in one's life when one cares about selling out and not selling out. One worries whether or not wearing a certain shirt means that they are behind the curve or ahead of it, or that having certain music in one's collection means that they are impressive, or unimpressive.

Thankfully, for some, this all passes. I am here to tell you that I have, a few years ago, found my way out of that thicket of comparison and relentless suspicion and judgment. And it is a nice feeling. Because, in the end, no one will ever give a shit who has kept shit 'real' except the two or three people, sitting in their apartments, bitter and self-devouring, who take it upon themselves to wonder about such things. The keeping real of shit matters to some people, but it does not matter to me. It's fashion, and I don't like fashion, because fashion does not matter.

What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I've listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who's up and who's down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say. Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a fuckload of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes.

I say yes, and Wayne Coyne says yes, and if that makes us the enemy, then good, good, good. We are evil people because we want to live and do things. We are on the wrong side because we should be home, calculating which move would be the least damaging to our downtown reputations. But I say yes because I am curious. I want to see things. I say yes when my high school friend tells me to come out because he's hanging with Puffy. A real story, that. I say yes when Hollywood says they'll give me enough money to publish a hundred different books, or send twenty kids through college. Saying no is so fucking boring.

And if anyone wants to hurt me for that, or dismiss me for that, for saying yes, I say Oh do it, do it you motherfuckers, finally, finally, finally.

If Your Don't Know, You Should Ask Someone

Watch the trailer for the Danilson Family Documentary

Paul Taylor CD Release Show

Read Mark Jordan's Profile

Happy Effing Fourth

We're All Going to Hell

When you take a look through these pictures of Will and Emily's birthday party last Friday, I want you to remember that it was attended by mostly thirtysomethings. And the party was not even the craziest part of my night. And everyone is gay.

and those aren't even the bad ones...

Will and Emily's Birthday!

My Dad Is Badass

Ok so I feel like the last 5 days are part of a lost weekend that I actually remember, which should make me feel better but actually it just makes me feel guilty. Over the past few days I drank too much, read two books, lost my purse, wrote my first piece for Spin Magazine, did too many drugs, hot tubbed as the sun came up, found my purse, danced my ass off, went to no less than 4 house parties, ended up in too many other people's beds with way too many other people, and my car broke down! Oy! Yeah, I'm not gonna elaborate on any of that, if you were there than you know the deal! Coincidentally, one of the books I read was Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself To Live!!!

I've barely left my house for the past two days and I am still recovering.

Here are the rest of the Summer Madness Pictures.

Here's the flyer for the next FEEL-HARMONIC party:

Add them on Myspace:

http://www.myspace.com/feelharmonic

In other news, my dad went with me today to see what the hell was wrong with my car. He checked my battery, then he looked on the ground, picked up one of those plastic pull off pieces from a milk jug, leaned into the engine and straight-up Macgyvered that shit! I tried to start my car again and it worked! Then I went to Autozone and got a new battery...but it was still badass!