By Jeff Walsh
Mika's recent show at the Fox Theater in Oakland, supporting his new album "The Boy Who Knew Too Much," started on the wrong foot. Well, more accurately, Mika ended his show in Los Angeles the night before on the wrong foot, which had him a bit hobbled in Oakland, where he spent a lot of time on one leg, and using a flourescent-enhanced crutch to stay off his left foot. I've seen enough injured performers on concert already (lead singer of The Kaiser chiefs jumping around in a leg cast, and Pink recently avoided her aerial work due to a shoulder injury) to not think twice about it, but for some reason, it sort of deflated my experience of a Mika concert.
Mika concerts are parties. The music is upbeat. The crowd is ready to dance. And the glue holding it all together is Mika, who sets the tone.
So, watching Mika try his hardest to dance around, with his injured leg actually buckling out from under him at times, it sort of set me off. He was doing his best to make sure we were having fun, but you see that he was pushing himself into that role, as opposed to previous shows where it was completely effortless and natural. It just wasn't fun watching someone in pain trying to create a huge party vibe.
Interestingly, if you closed your eyes, it was a normal Mika show. His leg didn't affect his voice or energy in that regard, and his vocals and band were great.
By Jeff Walsh
The last time Semi Precious Weapons were in town, I was waking up every morning at 4 a.m. to work on my novel, which precluded my from attending night events (like their sold out club show). Thankfully, that was not the case this week, when the band played the historic Fillmore in San Francisco as part of the Perez Hilton Presents tour.
They shared the bill with Natalie Portman's Shaved Head (party nerds), Julian Perretta (Mika meets Jamiroquai), and then, after Semi Precious Weapons, Ladyhawke had the unfortunate chore of trying to follow Justin and the boys. They were probably good, but it's an unenviable slot.
If you're a fan of Semi Precious Weapons (and really, by this point, you should be, what's the hold-up?), then seeing them live just adds to the fun you already get from them. Lead singer Justin Tranter struts around the stage like a glam peacock, wearing panty hose and spike-heeled boots, and constantly ratchets up the party. From my perch at about the second row, I could see Justin offstage before the band took the stage. Ironically (or on purpose?), Lady Gaga's "Poker Face," was playing (read my previous interview with Justin for their love of, and history with Gaga), and he was already amping himself up, singing along, and dancing around.
By Jeff Walsh
I remember the first time I saw The Pet Shop Boys in concert nearly a decade ago, after only knowing their music. I seriously wondered what sort of crazy world I stepped into. Neil Tennant seemed to be walking down a ramp in slow-motion while singing a song with an orange fright wig on his head (Chris Lowe wore the same fright wig on the keyboards), and nearly every other song had some visual element attached to it. I expected a normal concert, and got craftsmanship, so it was a lot to absorb at once. It was all just so thought out and artfully constructed. And none of the elements were just distraction, filler, or nonsense happening on a screen behind him that didn't matter.
It was rare to see a show where the performer seemed humbled to be present, yet made no effort to break a sweat, content to let the words and music create the magic of the live event. Even the most upbeat songs worked up the crowd, but not the band. But this was the band known for ironic detachment, so it all made sense.
Of course, seeing them again tonight in San Francisco (a decade later than my first PSB concert, and 25 years since their first hit single, West End Girls was released) I knew what to expect, and they didn't disappoint.
And no, this is not photocopying of poRn...JB....
I went to a party on Saturday night. While I was gone, my mother, by stealth, found my diary and stories I
So today, I come to work, and find myself presented with a brand new corner cube. nice eh? and all it took was a trailor trash hoochie to sexually harass me and fuck up my old work station. nice. why can't I be sexually Harassed by attractive men?
I am also recovering nicely from the Testicle slashing incident. which from now on will be refered to as "section E" which Jules has coined it.
Well, last week I returned to Woody's for the first time in a few months. I've lost a little weight since the last time and I donned a new shirt that made me look even thinner, so I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I mean, I'm not hideous; surely someone would find me attractive enough to dance with me, and I was in the mood for some fun.
My friends and I decided to go at the last minute; the night actually started as a gay bowling night, but after an hour of some really bad bowling we decided that we should go somewhere that was more suited to our strengths. We packed my car with two of my girl friends (one a lesbian, one straight), a girl and guy from the gay union whom I didn't know very well before then, and me. After a good amount of time listening to various bad club songs and me singing along to Cher (whom I LOVE because she sings in my range), we finally started seeing the city in the distance. That was when I sort of freaked because I've never driven in the city before, but with the help of my friends and the fact that there were almost no cars on the roads because it was late on a Wednesday night, we finally maneuvered to a parking garage and got out. Then we did the usual "take only what you need: license, " discard thing, and we left the car to walk to the club in the bitter cold without jackets because we weren't sure if there was a coat check or not. The streets were very different from the way they were in October. There were no cute boy couples walking with their arms around each other or groups of guys laughing loudly and greeting the friends they ran into on thre street; the streets were very empty right up to the club. We finally got there, paid, and entered.
snow day, snow day, Linds doesn't have French today...
I think about Chris intermittently through the day, but I mostly think of him at night before I close my eyes and try to sleep in earnest. I don