Heavy Metal Saved My Life

Mastodon and Dethklok played at the Tabernacle in Atlanta last Thursday - it was an unbelievable show. My only regret was that I went to the right side of the stage so I couldn't see Brent Hinds (who was on the left) hardly at all. Nonetheless, I managed to take a few METAL pictures:





And I shot a video of Mastdon especially for my sister who was feeling a little jealous that night:

I'm Super Human for You - the Flaming Lips visit Atlanta

When you come to a party at my house, you can count on there being a big ass spread of delicious food, the cocktails will be flowing, good music will be playing and there probably will be (at least) some glitter-based decorations. Expect no less at my house. I was raised right by the Queen Hostess, the lovely Louise Totonchi.

Similarly to my party philosophy, the Flaming Lips know how to throw a rock n roll show. From the moment the first note was strummed at Chastain Park tonight, confetti, smoke and balloons filled the air. A quick glance around me revealed dozens of giggling, joyful people awaiting excitedly their chance to hit one of the fifty balloons up in the air. Oh and there was even a man in a Space Bubble:



Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne projected love and joy from the stage, declaring that despite the heavy Georgia air in August, "I'd wear a polar bear jacket, I'm super human for you." And he wouldn't have stood out at all in such a fur- the stage was filled with costumed lovlies, boy and girl bunnies, King Kong (who wielded Wayne on his shoulders for a whole song), a giant butterfly, a giant catfish- all dancing nonstop. An ingenious feature was a video camera mounted on Wayne's microphone; watch this footage of Fight Test both on stage and with the mic cam view projected behind the band:



I should mention that the Lips know how to treat their party guests. From the moment tickets were bought, we received a link for a free download of three songs from their yet to be released album which included Covinced of the Hex, my highlight of tonight's show. A few days later a link was sent to three b-sides. And if that weren't enough, they also promise to send a link to a recording of the entire show we saw tonight. Nice hospitality!

It was a terrific show tonight. We were grateful that the sky waited until we were in our cars to open up and shower, but that the lightning didn't hold back its contribution to the spectacular light show.

Their Hearts in Tipperary Wherever They Go- The POGUES in Atlanta

I never dreamed it would really happen. I've been told by countless boys over the many years who tried to convince me the they were bigger fans, far more knowledgeable than I, that it would never happen. I had missed my chance; I would never see The Pogues in all their glory- meaning with Shane MacGowan in the front.

Well boys, you were wrong. Never underestimate my unrelenting loyalty to the bands that are my soulmates. Not that my steadfastness brought about this strange, five-city US tour that paused in none other than my Atlanta, Georgia, but I'm still claiming it as my own. And my own doesn't begin to express what we were a part of at Monday night's show. I could almost cry.

Says Word Magazine:

Shane MacGowan is is unwell. In fact, he looks dead.

Hell, it's true. The poor man is in such bad shape and it is astonishing that he is still alive at the not-so-ripe old age of 52. I remember reading years ago about Sinead O'Connor turning him into the cops in an effort to curb his drug and alcohol use - please! - and the band has broken up with promises never to speak again countless times because of his self-destructive quest.

Apparently he has a handler, someone to watch over him and make sure he doesn't wander off and go missing- he is really and truly that broken a man. Says drummer Andrew Ranken, "He can perform when he's wasted if he wants to perform. " I've heard stories of him being rolled out in stage in a wheelchair, promptly vomiting and that was it. We made bets with the people next to us on how many songs he would make it through. The bets were just 3 and 5 songs- all made with smiles of understanding that we would happily accept whatever he could give.

They had what those in his inner circle refer to as "the cage" set up. It was a curtained in area on the side of the stage - which might be be compared to a makeshift kissing both at one of my parties - where Shane would retreat to every now and then when he needed a break.

But despite our indulgent pessimism- there he was on the stage for the entire show but for minor breaks. Shane MacGowan bold as day, bright as sun, hissing saliva as he sang having fallen from grace with God. And if you don't believe my account just listen to his scream at 55 seconds in:



THIS, was their second song. This land was always ours, was the proud land of our fathers; it belongs to us and them, not to any of the others. And their third was that sacred ballad The Broad Majestic Shannon. Shane sang of tears on our cheeks, the cross at Finnoe, and our hearts remaining in Tipperary. His plea to take his hand and dry our tears and forget our fears made me still, despite being surrounded by more than all the chaos you might expect in a sold out show of thousands of incredibly drunk men.

There was so much more that they did. The anthem that applies to Palestine and Iraq as much as it does Ireland, Thousands are Sailing was triumphant and heartbreaking: where we go we celebrate the land that makes us refugees. Lullaby of London, McGowan's equivalent to the Mahmoud Darwish's Under Siege was a blessing as it washed over us:

... May the ghosts that howled
Round the house at night
Never keep you from your sleep
May they all sleep tight
Down in hell tonight
Or where ever they may be...

...May the wind that blows from haunted graves
Never bring you misery
May the angels bright
Watch you tonight
And keep you while you sleep.

This is my dear friend Jay and I, Jameson whiskey in hand before the encore:



I felt stunned in this moment. Stunned that it really happened and I was there. How when I would tell this story I might nod my head in the way that my Uncle Michael in Ireland might while telling a story that was beyond belief. About how I never dreamed it but it really happened and I have proof. And how my heart remains with the lads that are THE POGUES.

It's official; I am cursed

I am cursed with a douchebag magnet that activates at rock n roll shows. Sure, there are always douchebags dispersed around the crowd but I always manage to position myself right behind King Douchebag himself.

I mean, I'm glad when people get into music and are enjoying themselves, but do you really need to elbow me in the face as you pulse your fist in the air repeatedly, jump up and down on my toes, and spill your Coors Lite all over my arm to have a good time? I know you drove 4 hours from Johnson City, TN to be here, but does that really give you license to act like a total boner? And your homoerotic relationship with your buddies -- on whose shoulders you brace yourself as you jump up and down even higher, that is, in the few moments that you're not fist bumping-- could be an amusing distraction if I weren't already irritated.

If anyone has any ideas on how I can break this terrible curse let me know because I'm going on at least 6-7 shows in a row with this plague!! I don't know what I did to derserve this, but I am ready to repent for my sins if that will help. I'm even open to smudging and /or aura cleansings with crystals. Yes, that's how bad this is.

Another Night at the Variety with Jenny Lewis

Though the stock market is tanking and wall street looks more like a roller coaster, you can rest assured that you'll always get your money's worth with Ms. Jenny Lewis. Tonight was the third time I've seen her light up the Variety Playhouse and once again she was soulful, playful and slung words like vodka tonics on well-drink night.

Like the great woman June Carter Cash who came before her, Jenny's presence and voice are simultaneously peach pie sweet and deserted-cabin-in-the-woods eerie. Surrounded by her five-piece band that didn't hold back an ounce, she commanded attention. I was happy to see her sense of humor more evident this time, making fun of herself and melodramatizing some of her more silly lines.

This time around Jenny is promoting her week-old album Acid Tongue, which boasts some real gems; my favorites are the opener Black Sand and the Loretta Lynn-inspired title track Acid Tongue. A high point of tonight's show was the epic song Last Messiah -- the album version of this song does it no justice-- with its dirty guitar, different personalities and lyrics that threaten arrest. In addition to a catalogue of the new songs, we were treated to bluesy versions of some of her oldies but goodies like You Are What You Love, the Charging Sky and Rise Up with Fists.

The only down point was the first encore, my least favorite song of the album Sing a Song for Them. It's cheese - mild cheddar at that - and for final songs my taste is more like smokin' gouda. You can count on Jenny to redeem herself though and that she did with a fiery See Fernando, a cowgirl-meets-dealer tongue twister of an anthem.

Jenny Lewis' country-gospel heart and lyrical tartness is totally worth investing in.

Relive the Glory of Glitter and Doom

All thanks go to our wonderful intern Brett for finding this link to a full recording of Tom Waits' Atlanta show! It was a truly stunning performance and it is so amazing to be able to hear it in its entirety once again.

All I Can Hear in My Head Right Now

I feel like a tired dog.

The lights go on, the lights go off. When things don't feel right, I lie down like a tired dog licking his wounds in the shade.

When I feel alive I try to imagine a careless life: a scenic world where the sunsets are all breathtaking.




Scenic World by Beirut

My First Day of Summer Vacation at my Home in Atlanta

1. I woke up at 11:40 am. It was so good to sleep, particularly since I was up till 6am with bad allergies. I laid in bed and started reading Imagining Arab Womanhood, by my friend Amira Jarmakani. Then I read the Joy and Sorrow chapter from The Prophet.

2. I do a bunch of things in my house that I've been wanting to do but never found the time: rearranging my living room to make it more intimate, hanging the lovely Palestinian print Mohammad gave me for my birthday last year, pruning my massive book collection of some of its weight. It is amazing to me how easy I find accumulating books and how hard it is to let go of their words.



3. While going through the books, I found several pressed plants from years before - some magnolia leaves from Oakland Cemetery, Blue Orchids from Tangelia's wedding, a large leaf of Lambs Ear from Ireland.



4. I listen to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's album Ka'ano'i twice and Beirut's Lon Gisland EP at least seven times.

5. I have a 20 minute debate with my 11 year old neighbor on the lessons and merits of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. versus Frederick Douglass.

6. I go shopping at Trader Joe's - something I never do - to buy snacks to make me feel like even my eating is on vacation. I buy some of my favorite things including baby roses, smoked salmon, blue potato chips, beets, olive tapenade, and havarti cheese.



7. I have a lovely dinner at Six Feet Under with Mohammad. We laugh a lot and he uses the word "kudzu" when he really means "kudos". After a hundred tries now spanning months, I finally am able to say in arabic "once upon a place in an ancient time" I eat fried catfish, corn and spinach.



8. We watched The Simpsons while drinking root beer floats and listening to the thunderstorm.

I can't believe I finally saw Tom Waits

I often feel inadequate when I sit down to write about a show performed by a band I love. When reflecting on the magnificent Tom Waits' performance in Atlanta on Saturday night, it's words themselves that seem inadequate to capture even a fraction of what this brilliant mad man did on stage.

So there's the disclaimer: this post will simply do no justice whatsoever for what we witnessed. It can't. Words can't. Pictures help- gratitude and credit go to the lovely Ela for providing the photo above- but nonetheless, this was a classic case of you-gotta-see-it-to-believe-it.

From the moment he entered the stage, gruff dark charming handsome with a permanently guilty expression, he captivated me. Singing Lucinda "...Like a kid who captures a firefly and leaves it only to die in the jar" and stomping his foot to the beat, smoke (flour?) would fly up from the ground. He was always one for theatrics.

He would stretch his arms out like he was flying but then wiggle his fingers like a hummingbird flies. No, a bumble bee. Oh my god, it was jazz hands. Okay, so Tom Waits is the only person on earth who can not only make Jazz Hands look cool, but makes you want to wiggle your fingers right back at him.

We were lucky enough to hear him play "Hold On" here in Atlanta. That song has meant so much to me; I played it on repeat for the following month after my darling Grandmother passed away in July, 2000. I remember hanging out with my old friend Howie on his deck overlooking Cloudland Canyon listening to it over and over. We would sit and drink beer, watching people hang gliding through the canyon and listening to Mule Variations on repeat. My grief was so heavy then.

Howie told me a couple years ago that he will always think about me with the line from Hold On that talks about dancing with no music in the cold. Being associated with a Tom Waits song is seriously the highest compliment I think you can be paid and it still makes my eyes well up to think about it.

But I digress.

My notes are hazy because a) I was writing in the dark b) liquor from the flask spilled a few drops and blurred my ink and c) the notebook binding is falling apart and the pages are all out of order, but some of what I can decipher include:

"drunken marionette"
"old speakers strung like pots and pans in Sweeney Todd's kitchen"
"dances like a zombie playing baseball"

There's so much more than can and should be said for this glorious night with Mr. Waits himself. But as I said, this blog will not do him, his band, his music or the show justice. But it will help me remember a night I should never forget.

Here's the set list- I think I got it right. If you took notes and found a mistake in my list let me know in the comments. I'm including album names because we were trying to figure those out afterwards.

Tom Waits Set list - July 5, 2008
Fox Theater, Atlanta Georgia

1. Lucinda /Ain't Going Down to the Well (Orphans: Brawlers)
2. Down in the Hole (Beautiful Maladies)
3. Falling Down (Big Time)
4. Chocolate Jesus (Mule Variations)
5. All the World is Green (Blood Money)
6. Cemetery Polka (Rain Dogs)
7. Cause of it all / 'Til the Money Runs Out (Heartattack and Vine)
8. Such a Scream (Bone Machine)
9. November (Black Rider)
10. Hold On (Mule Variations)
11. Black Market Baby (Mule Variations)
12. 9th and Hennepin (Rain Dogs)
13. Lie to Me (Orphans: Brawlers)
14. Lucky Day (Black Rider)
15. On the Nickel (Heartattack and Vine)
16. Lost in the Harbor (Alice)
17. Innocent When You Dream (Frank's Wild Years)
18. Hoist That Rag (Real Gone)
19. Make it Rain (Real Gone)
20. Dirt in the Ground (Bone Machine)
21. Get Behind the Mule (Mule Variations)
22. Hang Down Your Head (Rain Dogs)
23. Jesus Gonna Be Here (Bone Machine)
24. Singapore (Rain Dogs)

Encore
1. Eyeball Kid (Mule Variations)
2. Anywhere I Lay My Head (Rain Dogs)

Whistling Down the Wind

It feels like a miracle, a dream come true. I got got two tickets to see the beautiful trickster, the gruff angel himself, Tom Waits! The show is in July and boy has my heart never pounded so hard just from clicking from screen to screen to make a purchase on a website.

I have loved him since I heard him for the first time in Alan's car sophomore year of high school and have never had the chance to see him before. I would travel miles to see him, but now only have to head a little nouth on Peachtree to the Fox Theater.

Here's his hilarious press conference announcing the tour:

Until the Last Beat of My Heart: DeVotchKa

My expectations simply could not have been higher walking into the Variety Playhouse's doors to see DeVotchKa. My sister has seen them multiple times and talks about the experience passionately. This means high stakes in our family.

Everything Reem told me and blogged about was right. There were moments of the show where I couldn't stop smiling and clapping along, and then there were moments where a huge lump would develop in my throat and I struggled not to let my eyes overflow.

Their sound is a fusion of mariachi, east European, bolero, and American folk. The band's talents scale a range of instruments- accordion, sousaphone, stand-up bass, trumpets, bouzouki. There was a full string quartet that played with them through most of last night's show.



We stood right in front; it was amazing to be right next to them, part of the cabaret. We were close enough that I can tell you that the bottle of wine they swig from is Bohemian Highway- the same $3.99 a bottle that I buy in cases. (I drink the Cab, they drank Merlot.)

We were so close that from time to time I would feel self conscious that the band saw me standing, unmoving, mouth slightly agape because I was so blown away but what was happening in front of me.

Lead singer and guitarist Nick Urata's voice is stunning, almost identical live as to their recordings. He sounds like a young Roy Orbison and he moves like Johnny Cash. He would barely hum into the mic and it sounded heavenly. And how can you not love a man who plays the theremin?



Tom Hagerman, the accordion, violin (1st violin for you orchestra geeks) and piano player is a master musician, switching effortlessly from style, instrument and song and adorable playing the piano with one leg tucked underneath him.

Reem had told me that Jeannie Schroder a.k.a. TubaGirl always looks like she's smiling while playing the sousaphone - because that's the shape your mouth makes. But the trumpet-player-slash-drummer Shawn King smiled the whole time regardless whether he was playing or not. Maybe because it was his birthday which the band celebrated with candles on a red velvet cake at the end.

Here's some video of them playing "Queen of the Surface Streets". My favorite part is when the string quartet pizzicatos along with the xylophone and then you see TubaGirl dancing and clapping along.



Highlights for me were I Cried Like a Silly Boy and their cover of Siouxsie and the Banshee's The Last Beat of My Heart. Transliterator was an epic to the proportions of GN'R's November Rain or the Dead's Terrapin Station. They rocked it out with a triple song encore of wild wonderful gypsy music.

And my honey got me the setlist! I had gotten one at a Jerry Garcia Band show in 1992 and the roadie took it from me "that's already promised to someone". Bored. And then at Concrete Blonde a few years later I picked it up off the stage but this jackass tore it out of my hands. So this is my first setlist ever from a show!



Like my sister realized, I will never not see them. Until the last beat of my heart.

DeVotchKa is visiting us

Atlanta, we have a treat coming this week: DeVotckKa. Tuesday night at Variety. I cannot wait- this is a show not to be missed. My sister saw them in Milwaukee and Chicago last week and put up words, pictures and videos. She says:

All I can figure out to say is that I will never not see them. I will never be near them and miss them. I've never had a band in my head like this before.

If you're still not convinced, check out this video. You may remember their haunting beautiful music from the soundtrack of Little Miss Sunshine.

Ya Viene el Sol - Ozomatli brings Sun to Atlanta

My super kind next-door neighbor Kamau just pulled up in his trunk blasting “Old Time Rock n Roll”. I was surprised by the song selection – I’ve never heard him listening to music in the three years we’ve lived side-by-side, and I never would have predicted that this would be his selection. After he parked he stayed in the car until the song ended; through my window I could see him drumming on the steering wheel and rockin’ out to the song that was clearly making his day.

It’s that kind of beautiful day in Atlanta that makes you want to drive around with the windows down listening to music that makes you move. I drove in figure eights around the 4th Ward making my gradual way home feeling the breeze and sunshine on my skin, blaring Ozomatli. My song of choice was "Ya Viene El Sol" which they probably wrote on blue-sky day like today.

How could I help but listen to Ozomatli after last night? The boys brought love, light and revolution to the Centre Stage in Atlanta last night, making hips move, girls twirl, and man with their arms around their best friends sway and swing along. It was a great treat to have them headlining in Atlanta again; its been at least 3 years since that last happened.

There were so many wonderful parts of all Ozo shows – the incredible energy they maintain from beginning to end, the passion they convey through lyrics translated into pure vocal sound, each member of the band dancing throughout the songs.



Yesterday, they brought it as they always do but added some lovely pieces: bringing all the kids in the audience up on stage to play and dance with them, dropping the mic into the audience for us to sing along with “After Party”, doing their own line dance that looked like a hip-hop debke. Uli rocked the clarinet- yes, you read that right- on “Coming Up”. They smoothly brought their politics into the show yesterday, from dedicating songs to the people of New Orleans and the Middle East, to Justin’s patch with pics of old and young Mr. Bushes labeled “Dumb and Dumber”.

Asdru’s voice- I hardly know where to even begin describing it. The best I can say that after last night he joins Tom Waits, Ilham Al Madfai, Neil Young, Perry Farrell and the Porcupine Singers from Pine Ridge Reservation on my list of Angel Boy Singers. It’s a bit hard for me to describe but these men and their songs mean the world to me. The Angel Boys are characterized by their nontraditional vocal qualities and a sound that reverberates through my core. Asdru has an Angel voice.



It was hard to get video because it was pretty impossible not to dance, but here’s one of the beautiful “Cuando Canto”. Check out the adorable girl best friends dancing and the beautiful boy best friends with their arms around each other.



They finished the show by all eight members of the band journeying off the stage to party and create a drum circle in the middle of the crowd in the audience. Mohammad read my mind when he turned to me and commented that it felts like we’re at a protest. It is this piece that makes me love Ozomatli so- that they politicize their shows in such an accessible way that brings in the truth of our struggle in the streets and combines it with a sound that can our hearts beating strong throughout these times of great human loss and despair throughout the world.

I clearly needed to put the camera down and join the party once it came down on the floor so the footage from this part is brief but for all of us there, I'm sure of the most memorable of the evening.

The New Resident of the Krog Street Tunnel

I love taking pictures out the window of my car. Yes, while driving (sorry, Mom!). I love when I'm able to get a solid shot even while the car is moving, and it often not until hours later till I'm able to look and see if I got anything good. This hobby flourishes in Atlanta where we are lucky to have some of the most amazing street artists I've ever seen.

Here is a shot taken tonight out the passenger window in the dark that came out really well featuring a brand new mural on the DeKalb Avenue side of the Krog Street Tunnel.


I don't know whose idea it was to put Bob up, but I can't think of a better addition to the many wonderful pieces in the Krog Tunnel.

And on the topic of Bob Marley, check out Andisheh Nouraee's column about Zimbabwe. He mentions in it that Zimbabwe inaugurated its nationhood with a Bob Marley concert. If you've never seen this footage, its worth a watch.




As always, Bob sang of difficult truths, foreshadowing:

So soon we’ll find out who is the real revolutionaries
And I don’t want my people to be tricked by mercenaries.

25 years later and I'm still Thrilled

A great surprise this weekend came in the form of a gift of my very own copy of the 25th Anniversary Edition of Michael Jackson's Thriller.

I love the remixes - Akon's Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' and Fergie singing along with Michael's old vocals on Beat It. But Will.i.am's PYT remix by far takes the sequined glove.

Listening to those old songs (the album got played four and a half times through just on Saturday) was wonderful. I remembered listening to the old record at the house in Skokie that my parents rented when we were so young. In our shared bedroom, Reem and I had a hott poster of Michael wearing the red zipper Beat It jacket on a neon purple background.

I had exactly the same experience this weekend that I had as a child when I felt terror creep through my body at the opening notes of Thriller and the sound of Vincent Price's voice. I shudder now thinking about it. I screamed for a while. And then when I realized that this special 25th Anniversary release included a bonus DVD featuring the Thriller video I screamed a whole lot more knowing that it must now live in my house.

Those scary cat-eye contacts that he wears at the end of the video are permanently branded in my brain and the zombie dance still makes me feel like running out of the room.

Different from the old days of listening to this album now is a new understand of some of the lyrics due to recent events. For example, I now have absolutely no doubt that Billie Jean, was in fact, not his Michael's lover. And the true story comes clear in that Michael was simply being Paul McCartney's wingman and indeed not interested in that doggone girl.

I absolutely still do get a choked up at his sweet soft vocals on Human Nature. Michael will never lose that for me. Even if he is more like one of our clients than the King of Pop these days.

Reality TV gets a little too real OR Me + Bret = 4Ever

I don't want to admit it but I have to because its just too good: last night I dreamt that I was competing for Bret Michaels' affection on Rock of Love. It wasn't just one dream either- I tried to use my womanly wiles to lure Bret in two separate dreams last night! Mica was also competing in the first dream, and wearing a fabulous tan lace kinda army looking dress- it doesn't sound cute but I promise it was super cute. And even though we were technically against each other I was still all "hos over bros, yo". The second dream was all me on my own with all the typical blondy blonds that are on the show.

In the dream, Bret and I stepped away from the group for our "one on one" time and I realized at this point that I actually had to think of something to say that would impress him and make him want to keep me around. OH the stress! My mind raced, should I tell him about my work and the terrible outrage that the criminal injustice system wages against poor people and people of color? Should I charm him with my natural hilarity and stories about my family? Should I ask him my old reliable first date question of what-are-your-top-five-favorite-live-concerts-you've-ever-seen?

I settled on telling him a true story about how he and Poison made all the difference in my world after one of the hardest weekends of my life. Some serious shit, real trauma, went down in my life and as a result, I was going to skip the Poison show in Atlanta even though I had been looking forward to it for months. At the last moment, I decided to buck up and go, and Mica jumped in her car to pick me up. The show was totally chill and perfect. About 50 steps from the car I look down and there's a redtail hawk tail feather on the ground in front of me. I knew I made the right decision then.

My Poison boys were just wonderful- working the stage and performing like hell. Bret and Bobby did the backwards kick thing in sync and CC did an electric guitar and piano version of Ray Charles' "Georgia". They played every song I wanted to hear. And Mica threw her first devil horns and I nearly cried with joy! (At this point Mica was back in the 2nd dream because I was trying to make sure Bret knew that she was a great contender for his love too.)

So after telling him about this day, I thanked Bret for the many many times he and his band and his music were like salve on my wounds, from times when I was 14 years old through my current ripe old age of 31. And he was sweet and supportive and humble and I knew this was the beginning of the love of my life. That I would get a backstage pass that night at elimination. That we would be deliriously happy and rock the eff out forever and ever. Me and Bret FOREVER. Best dream ever! But I probably need to chill on the old reality television for a minute.

Snow and Speed Metal

After a day of Capitol-based super stress, high stakes and adrenaline coursing through my veins, there's nothing better than 1) buying some pre-sale MEGADETH tickets and 2) SNOW falling from the gray Atlanta Sky.

It should be noted that when my Mom heard that I had bought the Megadeth tickets her response was "That's nice. Reem and I just bought tickets to see Dolly Parton!" Familial musical eclecticism gives this worn out lobbyist big grins.

Never Underestimate the Power of Speed Metal

What is it about the legislative session looming that makes me listen to nothing but speed metal? I can't seem to get enough of Anthrax or Megadeth. It makes me feel like I'm 15 again and rebelling against the first day of school. It also makes me feel strong and like I'm secretly giving the finger to the jerks that I will soon be smiling and laughing politely with. God, how's that for deep-seeded angst?

If anyone has any Slayer or Helloween, holla at a girl. I also need a recording of the Anthrax/Public Enemy collaboration of "Bring Da Noize."

The Riot, Now Quiet

Kevin DuBrow, lead singer for Quiet Riot, is gone. 52 years old and gone and we don't know why. So sad! Metal Health was one of my first favorite records as a kid and helped introduce me to the harder edge of rock while making macaroni and cheese in my friend's kitchen after school.

Tonight, bang your heads a little bit harder, rock out a little bit louder and know that heaven just got a little bit crazier.

'like PLO I don't surrendo' - M.I.A.'s Atlanta Halloween show

If Bjork is a panda, M.I.A. is an iguana. Or komodo dragon. Or a gila monster or some kind of crazy looking, beautiful exotic lizard that moves awkwardly but with more grace than you can fathom with their bony adorable body.

Halloween night at Center Stage in Atlanta was alive. From before it even began, the space was filled with rainbows of costumes, underwear over fishnets, and more wigs and leg warmers than you’d find in Cyndi Lauper’s closet circa 1983. Girls were dancing on top of speakers; friends were greeting each other with hugs that spun each other around. (What an amazing contrast to the previous night’s snooze of a crowd. I'm just sayin'.)

The show opened up with video footage of Japanese nihilist Kouichi Touyama in his bout for Governor of Tokyo- a perfect way to kick off the show of the daughter of a Tamil activist-turned militant. This revolutionary spirit carried through the entire evening, no doubt due in some part to her extensive travels in India, Trinidad, Liberia, Jamaica, Australia, and Japan while she was writing her new album Kala.

That’s the best word: revolutionary. MIA is revolutionary. She is one of, if not the most fierce performer I’ve ever seen. In iridescent white stretch pants and a baggy t-shirt, she, her DJ and the woman who danced and sung back up (so sad I don’t know her name) commanded the stage. The energy flowed from their lips hips fingertips to the crowd infectiously. Eyes remained glued on the small bodies that glided across the stage. Every song was a journey -- sometimes intentional “now we’re going to Africa!” she cried jubilantly as the screen behind her turned to jungle and machine guns. At one point she invited all people wearing costumes to join her on stage for a dance party (pictures on this are included in the slideshow- click on the image to go to a larger size). She perched on the edge of the stage singing and became part of the fan-based MIAnimal that moved with her.

I'm including two videos in this one this time because I just have to share them. I didn’t want the show to end; hell I want to be back there right now. As MIA said in Sunshowers, 'like PLO I don’t surrendo' and she didn’t and she doesn’t and I can’t emphasize enough that if you have a chance to see this lovely British Sri Lankan imp in real life, go go GO!

And if you were there, tell me how much she blew your ass away. Please. Take me back there immediately.

Performing Pull Up the People: you no like the people they no like you, then they go set it off with a big boom, every gun in a battle is a son and daughter too, why you wanna talk about who done who? what you wanna talk about?

Performing Bucky Done Gun. Despite the arm constantly blocking my camera, the crowd footage on this one makes it all worthwhile. Everyone loved her!