First of all, this band is great. JEFF The Brotherhood – apparently (thanks Terk) we played them on ICB. I couldn’t place where I’ve seen this band before. Leave it to a counter-part to slap me into an already familiar place. I got a burst of energy after only six hours of drunken sleep from the new Sasha Frere-Jones piece about Stevie Nicks’ new record. I never cared for her much. Despite my misunderstanding of the 1977 40 million copy selling Rumours and many overplayed Fleetwood Mac radio sing-a-longs, it inspired me to start the day. Buying some tickets, downloading new records out of boredom, taming the 15 person dropbox folder I coordinate, and finally, it led me  to VICE Magazine.  My lady Morgan got my a subscription to VICE, which I now look forward to unwrapping in the elevator whenever it remembers to arrive. Excuse it’s absence. Let me catch you up.

the JEFFs

Here is a short interview with the dad of the JEFFs. I’m glad he encouraged them. I’ve never fell so hard for such grit before. My brother-brother-in-law who lives in Portland and drums in a band (bands?) sends and discusses music with me. It’s nice to have someone seek out your opinion, and take it seriously, on something they’re creating. Like sharing writing, only more intimate. Reading about these punk brothers who dressed up as Luke Skywalker and Batman only makes me wish that my sisters and I would have veered from musical theater and blanket-tent-building to the world of heavy fuzz guitars and doo-wop sing-a-longs. (Although Zoe and Kyle gave me Cake and Joni Mitchell, respectively, I still wish there had been some Pavement, Pinkerton and Dinosaur Jr.) They are a cool band. It’s just another reminder when the deeper tracks of their records creep into my headphones that greatness ≠ fame.

Sometimes when I see old ladies with sleeve tattoos it makes me want to have some tattoos. Then I’m reminded not only the wrath I would face from my mom but that I one day would also be an old lady with sleeve tattoos. You don’t have to travel the world, shop in the dodgy end of town or lose your lover to side effects of a parasite from a foreign country to have fun with your clothes. In fact this week I found myself a real lady wearing mascara (rouge is next?) regularly and a different pair of pants (fun pants, yes, that I accidentally have become known (?) for) every day this week. Forget the fact that I got chocolate all over my jeans on Monday baking whoopie pies and remember that the more pants you have the less laundry you have to do. See: link above, the interviews in in VICE are witty and highlight sometimes, just the strangest. It’s a nice reminder that everything doesn’t have to be peachy-keen and straight laced. Their publication thrives on retelling awkward situations (included but not limited to) haggling, making rude comments, cleaning up filth and taking heavy drugs with strangers. It was the music portion that led my to JEFF The Brotherhood in the first place.

Since I’ve reached my limit on the 20 allotted NYTimes articles a week ago (stay tuned Morgan knows the way around the firewall) I’ve found myself creeping around to parts of the Internet that I hadn’t frequented before. Who knew it was so big. I guess I was under the spell of the Times. Sometimes when you’re everywhere, so good and so well respected I suppose a publication love affair needs to be cut off by just that, a firewall. So here’s something new.  Before you think you’re better than me because you live in NY/BK (okay, sometimes I really do wish I lived there due to the foul functioning, cursed Metro system here) here’s a reminder of just how great you’ll never know DC is. RE: check out number one.

"MMJ"

And just as a side note. A favorite thus far from this year, and perhaps the sleeper hit that I hope no one overlooks – My Morning Jacket’s Circuital. A band I’ve never loved or hated, I’m finally turned on. Join me.