the magic carpet

reflections. links. stories. music. the great unknown.

May 27, 2004

Avril, my hero.

So Monday night I went to see Avril Lavigne do her thing at Webster Hall (a special shout out to Rico, thanks again!). Now, her music appeals more to my Pop Rocks! cortex than my Pitchfork medulla oblongata, but here's five reasons why everyone who cares about the future of music should like her:

1. She's got pipes! And she actually plays an instrument. She's not Jimmy Page, but, for real, people, she doesn't try to be. And besides, she has a great boi band.

2. She's not some trampy pedophile fantasy. More Lita Ford than Lolita.

3. She's bitch-slapping the teen queen plasticine image with a cool song about not being a ho. And she's (pardon the expression) nailed it without being a puritanical publicity stunt freak. Um, does anyone seem to realize the irony of Ms. Jessica Simpson's pre-marriage chastity vow and the fact that she's now basically marketing sex toys to prepubescent little girls? Jess, I can forgive you for being really DUMB, but you've crossed over into evil succubus territory there.

4. She doesn't take herself too seriously. This helps her chances of continuing to be relevant when her cohorts are hawking home botox treatments on late night cable.

5. Little girls dig her. Which means that's less time they have to worship images that will have them ralphing up their lunch during sixth grade recess, which is a good thing, dontcha think?

May 26, 2004

Punks in Whoville

Chris over at reminded me that I've been spreading the word all over about Feel disenfranchised? Disgust pushing you toward apathy? Punkvoter is the tequila shot of pundicy (is that a word?)... its meanness is soothing and will make you feel warm all over before fits of uncontrollable Bush-driven anger ensue.
State of the Nation

Boy oh boy if Billy Joel still had his head together, what a fine little ditty he coulda put together just this month. Since he's occupied with Long Island real estate, I thought I'd help him out a little, but times being what they are, this is just crap that crossed my radar this week:

Dennis Quaid , Prison crimes
Halliburton, Tyco Trial
Indie groupies Carlos D South by Southwest Afterparty

[Chorus, blah de blah]

Phish finish in Vermont,
Low-carb Coke in Daddy’s car,
Hunter Thompson Still Crusading
Danny Meyer hot dog heaven

Gay marriage Will and Grace
Daily Candy, St. Mark's Place
Lindsay Lohan, Mary Kate

[Chorus, blah de blah]

Nick Denton Apple Store
My boss is coming so I'm on the floor
Soho House, Madonna holy war,
I can’t take it anymore

May 25, 2004

Holy Cicada Crap, Batman

So, it's been awhile. I have no excuses. I am sorry. You liked me enough to slack at work, to check in, to just say hi every now and then, and what did I do? I ignored you. I made you feel cheap. I let you down. Sure, it stroked my fragile ego when I looked at Site Meter and saw you'd been here twice. But it was nothing compared to the guilt.

A lot's happened, right? The whole blogger experiment has become a little more dignified than an out-and-out fad, which has yielded mixed results. One of the most genius things to happen in a while has spawned courtesy of my good friend Charles, though don't take it from me, decide for yourself over at pogueGO. What else? JunkMedia relauched in January better than ever, and even though the Strokes are still doing what they can to bastardize indie rock, I'm happy that a gang of kids from Nebraska remain poised to take over the world. So stay tuned, and even though it's a superhighway, don't go too fast.