Here’s three events happening at my day job very soon that might be down the alleys of random readers of this blog. All programs are FREE and open to the public. The Writers House is located at 3805 Locust Walk, on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania.

A lot of the times programs at work wind up being background noise to me, but that’s mainly because I deal with the administrative end of things. If you couldn’t tell from this blog that I have some slight interest in music/culture writing, and so for once it’s like, finally, something that appeals to me. It would be fantastic if you could come out and support these events, in order to keep them happening at KWH! (And feel free to check out our calendar for other great events.)

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In lieu of asking the age-old question, “Why?”, here is what they call “content”:

» Mission:300 was awesome, I managed to bowl one decent game, and then someone committed a serious party foul. Not the first time for this particular dude, either. Y’know, I happen to like a lot of graffiti and find the subculture fascinating. But that’s besides the point. Was this particular instance really worth it? Think back through the past 10 years of Philly hipster/indie rock nightlife, where a lot of cultural organizations opened up their halls to a bunch of strangers (RUBA, UACA, Polish National, etc). Now they don’t — and I can’t help but wonder if the selfish impulses and lame stunts are to blame (even in some small part). I guess we might as well start counting St. Monica’s among the dead, and make funeral preparations for the Society of Free Letts, because you know someone is going to ruin that place too. Like a Botoxed Main Line mom would hiss: this is why we can’t have nice things.

» I swear I’m not getting all my info from BCO these days — though the hundreds upon hundreds of pages I have to read for class certainly prevent me from being more, um, one with the world: Espers’ enchantress Meg Baird is on tour with the Sea & Cake right now; her tour manager Steven Ward James (a fine musician in his own right) is updating the world on this particular post. The random professional musician-themed signage in the South is worth checking in every couple of days.

» I’ve got mixed feelings about Gossip Girl. The first seven minutes were genius — the Peter, Bjorn & John opening, the bitchy yogurt commentary — but the rest of it was a little meh. Not the dramatic, bitchy splash I’d been hoping for. Could it be that working for a college has me a bit jaded when it comes to the world of the Young, Privileged & Restless? I mean, I didn’t even roll my eyes when I saw the nontroversy over Ben Kweller in the school paper. Maybe I’ve come down with an acute case of tired-of-shooting-fish-in-barrel-itis.

Here’s what did hit me though: when Kristen Bell’s voiceovers began, I suddenly realized that Veronica Mars was never coming back. Never ever ever ever ever ever. Never ever ever ever ever ever. Never ever ever ever ever ever. Not even an inside glimpse of Henri Bendel could cheer me up.

» After Paul F Tompkins’ show at Helium a couple weeks back, I picked up Scrawl’s Travel On, Rider for a buck, thanks to the keen eye of Jon Solomon. I can’t believe I’ve made this a glaring omission in my Scrawl discography! It’s jarring, angry and sad in the way that I want a Scrawl release to be.

Scrawl, “I’m Not Stuck” (Buy)

» Sue Harshe’s (of Scrawl) Myspace
» Surly Girl Saloon (Columbus, OH); owned by Marcy Mays

Sunday night, I could have gone to the Acid Mothers Guru Guru show — which I’m sure was amazing, given the nature of the collaboration — or I could have checked out Samara Lubelski at Big Jar — considering how much her new record rules, would have been great. But the idea of standing around on the eve of an extended weekend with a bunch of dudes stroking their chins over the music (a mild reprieve from stroking another part of their body, I’m willing to wager) was on par in my mind with a meal of liverwurst and onions. In short, blech. (Apologies to L&O; I’m sure it’s a fine meal.)

What I really needed was a good party — not merely a celebration of the extended weekend, but a good solid kickoff to the semester. Truth: I love events like Making Time and [click.] because of the cardio workout it gives me. And Sunday night couldn’t have been more perfect for that — a solid 4-5 hours of pogoing, fist pumping and sweating (but not to the oldies). DJ’s Orgasmic and Surkin were unfuckingrelentless the heavy electro jams, and the audience, well, this was probably the most insane, punk rock audience I’ve encountered in a while outside of a hardcore show.

I probably could have stayed longer, but I’m a firm believer in “leaving on a high note”. Two days later, I’m thanking myself for it — oh, the aches! Now it’s a matter of convincing my body of the same.

Yes, yesterday I had my first official school day and it was awesome. I can feel my neurons and synapses waking up from the long slumber called the past six years. Last night, I decided to go matriculate myself (not as dirty as it sounds) by indulging in a bit of pop music nerdery: karaoke! (And this was extra-special karaoke, since it was hosted by Ms. Raised By Bees herself.)

I love karaoke. It would be nice to be in a band, but I am essentially talentless and unimaginative. You might tell me the bar for what’s deemed acceptable in this musical universe is very, very, very, very low. You’re correct on that. But I guess I’d prefer to skip past the years of heartbreak and “makin’ it” to doing karaoke in a bar.

One of the reasons I think Philadelphia is a great karaoke town is thanks to the overwhelmingly supportive audiences at these events. I’ve never heard anyone get booed, etc. Quite the opposite. So if you’re the type of person who’s terrified to sing because of negative feedback, no worries here.

Over the weekend American Idol had tryouts in town; last night a few of the rejectees came to sing and exorcise their hatred of Simon Cowell. Now, if these folks were rejected, then I really have to wonder how amazing the finalists were, because these people were just absolutely knock-down phenomenal. So phenomenal, in fact, that I had the largest bout of performance anxiety since my days as a competitive figure skater. I knocked down a couple of mic stands, couldn’t sing along, couldn’t hear myself and lacked zero stage presence to work the room. In short, I turned in probably the worst karaoke performance of my amateur career.

Dear All-American Idol Rejects, while I loved your performances, please stay away from karaoke. Bolstering your own deflated ego by making other people feel inadequate is just so uncool. Nobody likes a sore loser, y’know? (Trust me, I speak from experience.)

And to the Khyber, a space which I still love even though this city’s nightlife scene has essentially ditched you for a prettier, younger girlfriend that cleans up real well, get some fucking locks for your bathroom doors. I know you might think disgusting stalls are “punk rock” and “edgy”, but the world doesn’t need to see my most private moments nor do I need to contract a disease from the mess in there.

» Laszlo. Antonioni. Bergman. What a heartbreaking week for the world of cinema. In a strange twist of events, the film history course I’m a TA for was studying the Seventh Seal.

» Equally sad as the loss of these great filmmakers is the untimely passing of Trevor Butler, bassist for local band Bottom of the Hudson. Find out how you can help his family cover funeral costs, as well as provide financial assistance with drummer Greg Lytle’s medical bills, click here.

» I was up rather late the other night and noticed that some of the battle scenes in 300 look like they’re plucked out of Alexander Nevsky.

OK. My personal life is getting weirder and weirder by the nanofuckingsecond, but here’s some stuff you should know:

» If you listen to Her Jazz over the internet, tomorrow you will be out of luck, as WPRB plans to observe the Internet Radio Day of Silence. This event was organized to draw attention to an impending royalty rate increase that, if implemented, may lead to the virtual shutdown of this country’s Internet radio industry. To see a list of participating stations, learn more about why this is happening and more check out the site above or Save Net Radio.

» That said, you can still tune in through the good old FM signal — I’ll be giving away tickets to the Fiery Furnaces at the North Star Bar.

» Friday night I watched Parts & Labor rock the fuck out to a crowd of 300+ at a crumbling warehouse in Bushwick. Matt & Kim, whom I’m not so into, were pretty great.

» Saturday I saw S-S-S-S-Spectres, Ex Models and Ghostface (Who! Was! Taking! Requests?!) — not on the same bill, of course. But you could imagine it that way, since they played on opposite sides of the East River.

» And Sunday I made my inner 15 year old pleased as punch thanks to Superchunk’s show at McCarren Park.

» I kind of hate it when everyone crams political endorsements down my throat, which is why I didn’t want to tell you who to vote for. Frankly, it’s a free country — you do what you want, OK? But I’ve been pulling for Nutter (typing that sentence out just sounds totally dirty); needless to say I am psyched he won the primary. There’s a long way to go though — 62.83% (out of 284,328 voters) picked someone else. Here’s to hoping that Election Day has a better turnout.

» Metuchen, NJ’s own Roadside Graves were reviewed on Pitchfork yesterday. And to think we all had B lunch together. Or was it C? I forget. You’d never expect/believe it, but Metuchen High was a veritable hotbed of musical activity in the 90’s. And I’m not talking about being in jazz band (which I totally was) or marching band (ditto). In retrospect, I’m kind of amazed at how much musical output there was — and many of those folks are still at it today. Whatever happened to my Slothbreath t-shirt, anyway?

» Looking northward, DJ and producer Shan Boogie is working on a documentary called Foundations, dealing with the cross-pollination of creative cultures in NYC during the 1980’s. It’s in the very early stages of production, but this little promo teaser is pretty effing fantastic. Can’t wait to see what the finished product looks like!

» Concertmania as of late: Public Record, Sloan, Small Sins, Tussle, Professor Murder — all of whom were really fantastic. Damn you Toby and Adam, for not tipping me off to PM sooner!

» I’ve been a firm believer that nothing good would ever come from Enya’s “Sail Away” — a.k.a., the song from the Crystal Light commerical — but finally, finally I’ve been proven wrong. Beach weirdos win out:

Professor Murder, “That’s How They Getcha”
Pick up their self-titled release here!

Yo Majesty “Club Action” (Chris Bagraider’s Sailing to Baltimore remix)
Pick up the Yo EP here!

» Speaking of beach weirdos, DJ Mental Feelings (Chris of Espers, SHAVE HEAD) is spinning at tonight’s preview screening for Flight of the Conchords — RSVP here. Word on the street is that HBO’s dropping some serious $$$ on this party. As soon as it’s done, bounce over to Big Jar Books for Lambsbread.

I know there’s places painting this city in a pretty, rose-colored light for the sake of marketability, but let’s face it: when the mayor of hurricane-ravaged, FEMA-mismanaged New Orleans can make fun of us, is there any clearer of a sign that Philadelphia is in serious trouble? Nagin is our Ford, telling us to drop dead.

Whatever flavor of trouble you want (social, economic, quality-of-life, corruption, etc), we’ve got it, and in spades. Don’t you think that all of us — you, your neighbors, the strangers you pass on the street — deserve a fair shot at something better? Who will get us moving in the right direction again? Think about that when you set foot in the polling place today.

» Ugh, Bowers — this is just tacky. Also, no one plays Dean?

» Team Dresch plan to do two shows on 6/21 — first an all-ages gig at the Rotunda, then 21+ at the Millcreek. Good for them, I guess.

» Tonight, I’m going to check this out and see if WiiSports really does improve real-life sport skills. Oh who am I kidding? One game and I’m toast, thanks to the arthritis in my hands. I’m really there for the SuperToddBros DJ’s, a.k.a Jesse and Ryan of Brown Recluse Sings, and they really do put on a great set. Advance tickets are gone (I knew there was something I had to tell you guys on Monday), but a limited number are available at the door. It’s supposed to rain tonight, and the only other option is to see Georgia Rule or The Ex (BAAARF), so this sounds totally ideal.

» Budos Band are back with a new record on Daptone this summer and judging from this track — recorded live — they sound as blaxploitationariffic as ever:

Budos Band, “Chicago Falcon”

» Real Heavy 90’s Alert: Most folks are pretty much teenagers trapped in adult bodies, so it’s not that hard to identify with how Ben Lee & Co. visualize their futureselves through the rosy-colored lenses of young adulthood. Awash in bright tones (save for the lone clunker, “Poison 1080″ — barfy 90’s production in a nutshell) and even brighter, bolder strokes of guitar solos, Noise Addict’s Meet the Real You holds up amazingly well, especially for a record made by a bunch of kids. I wonder what happened to the rest of this band, anyway.

Noise Addict, “16″ (from Meet the Real You)
Buy direct from Ben Lee’s online store!

» Fellow WPRBer Julia tipped me off to a panel on the history of broadcasting in Philadelphia at the Atwater Kent Museum that was totally worth ditching my lunchtime gardening for. It was definitely more of a wax nostalgic about the glory days than anything else, but cool nonetheless. The panel (Jerry Blavat [!!!!], Karin Phillips [KYW], Tom Moran [WIP/WPEN], Tony Brown [WDAS]; moderator Dean Tyler [WIBG/WPEN]) all bemoaned the rise of The Format and the diminishing power of DJ’s, equally criticized statistical methods of evaluating performance (ie, ratings) and consultants, and blamed technology of sapping away radio’s power on younger generations. Julia and I (the two youngest members of the audience not with a relative) asked questions; Julia about newer broadcasting technologies (satellite/internet/podcasting) maybe giving radio the kick in the pants it desperately needs (Greek chorus consensus, a resounding “no”), mine was about the lack of opportunities available to young folks (the defense was “Oh, we have internships” — underacheivers pls try hrdr k thx). Once again, it seems like what’s ailing radio boils down to a generational divide in regards to technology. Still, a good way to spend the early afternoon.

» Early evening was dominated by Marisa & Kara’s reading at Mew Gallery in the Italian Market. A good crowd came out, though I think it would have been nice to see some younger folks. The authors read sections on Sassy’s crushworthiness and eventual demise (OMG IT FOLDED?). But I think the biggest surprise was a former Dirt contributor in attendance (Hugh?). I think the general consensus is that it holds up really well. Sometimes I wonder if seeing a magazine where its writers wore multiple hats (photographers, designers, etc) was an influence on my own interdisciplinary attitude.

» Pitchfork panned the new Hail Social album; Marc Hogan’s review nailed the unsettling, empty feeling it gives off. In a bizarre twist, I think the band sounds better in a live setting with their flaws laid bare for all to see, but I bet HS will be the first to argue otherwise. Anyway, if you live in this town, you’re not going to take Hogan’s review lightly. Well, at least they cared to review it.

» I have been digging White Denim, a garagey rock combo from Austin (not to be confused with Allentown label of the same name), these days. I hear very, very faint touches of Big Boys in these guys, which can’t be a bad thing at all:

White Denim, “Darksided Computer Mouth”