Thighs Wide Shut

Little Steven’s International Underground Garage Festival

Cast of Zillions

Randall’s Island – August 14th

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Rock and Roll is not dead. And if you weren’t aware of that fact, you would have certainly known by the end of this superphantastisch festival. And tit was not cause the bands rocked (well, they did, 461643124 Xs over!), but cause the emcees of the day’s festivities (zoot-suited Kim Fowley and some fat British dude who reminded me of the over the top producer in Marky Mark’s Rock Star) would repeatedly tell you that it was not dead in between each act. Yeah it was a bit annoying, but that was really the only fault I could find in this mini-Coachella, located on an island surrounded by the Boogie Down Bronx, Queens, and Mannyhattan. Before we proceed I juss have to give some major props de leon to Lil Steven/Silvio Dante, who pieced together this unrelievable event. Who knew the E-Street band had more connections that T-Mobile?!?

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Me the cru (Pak-man and Ceffle) arrived around 2:30pm. By that time, we had missed 22 bands (!!), James Gandolfini and Paulie Walnuts‘s guest emcee spots, and the rotating stage that had gone kaput. But the Go-Go dancers were go-going and the rocking did not stop. As for the weather, we were quite lucky. Rain clouds loomed all day long, but didn’t really produce anything until the show was over. Each band, besides the headliners, basically had anywhere from 10-15 minutes of stage time. Sure that may be a bit short, but if you got sick of a band’s performance, you knew that a fresh sound was juss right around the corner. Perfect for those with short attention spans… like anyone born from 1976 on. And who needs to hear any other song by The Romantics besides “What I Like About You”? Now I’ll be honest, I’m a crazy music lover, but I didn’t know 78.4632% of the bands on the roster. I guess I should have studied harder during my History of Rock and Roll class at good ole IU.

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The first song I recognized of the day was The Creation’s “Making Time”, and that’s only cause it was included on the Rushmore soundtrack. Otherwise, The Mooney Suzuki were so moooney. The Pete Best Band were not the breast, but it’s the closest I’ve been to a “Beatle”, and their rendition of “Twist and Shout” gave me Ferris Buller goosebumps. Nancy Sinatra made dad proud and had everyone’s boots ready for walking and rocking. Bo Jackson may not have known diddley, but Bo Diddley’s certainly well acquainted with himself and knows how to make a guitar scream. Seeing him was a real treat and probably one of the breast performances of the day. The Raveonettes raved on, but their set was cut to only two songs… udder bull sheet!!! Glad I caught them at the Bowery awhile back, and you all should catch them the next time they hit your town. The reformation of The New York Dolls made the night sincerely magical, especially after losing bassist Arthur Kane just a month ago. David Johansen and co’s comeback electrified the stage… some say “Hot, Hot, Hot”. The Strokes have never sounded bad anytime I’ve seen them, and tonight was no different. I am so over them, but I was impressed they didn’t include “Last Nite” in their set. And finally, Igby may go down, but Iggy and the Stooges, they just crank the energy up, up, and up. Sure I was a lil bummed there was no “Lust For Life” or “Passenger” love, but I’ll be his f-in dog for sho!! This was a one-of-a-kind event that shouldn’tve been missed. We’d all be lucky if Lil Stevie decides to do one next year. My hopes and dreams for 2005: The Kinks, White Stripes, Social Distortion, The Hives, The Ventures, Dick Dale, BB King, Bowie, and somehow, The Velvet Underground.

Oh, and how could I forget the food and drinks!!! Many options on the eats front, Pak-man dug the curly fries, and we all inhaled funnel cakes, but no love for chocolate-covered-frozen-bananas? What’s up wit dat? And if yer ever headed to any mega-concert, please pray that Dunkin Donuts and Pepsi-Co are the sponsors. I mean, why pay for libations when you can have free samples of Pepsi (hmmm, I’ve need tried Pepsi before!) and DD’s iced lattes, to which me and the cru gladly downed 4 throughout the day. The combo of being crazy caffeinated and my body being tired as sheet, due to hours of standing, was the ultimate battle of wills. Caffeine won out and then when I got home, passing out ruled large.

Hope you were taking notes on how to run a concert Andrew Dreskin, you King of Failed Day (I’m no longer staying tuned for your next move).

[Note: All pictures taken with camera phones, as the threat of rain made me left my digi at home. Thanks to Pak-Man for most of em]

So much is a buzz with Her Royal Thighness. First she was invited to perform at the GOP Convention, but told em to shove it up their stem cells. [via Steak Tatara]. Next she racked (and what a great rack it is) up 4 Teen Choice Awards (about as worthless as a library or social security card) for best movie hissy fit and best movie blush and best thighs as voted by the Thigh Master. And finally, fire crotch went out and broke my heart by wearing a bling-blaux ring given to her by b-friend Fez, which has in turn sparked rumors of MARRIAGE!!! So sayeth it aint so!! That’s OK, cause me thinks we were Bitched @ Swirth (note the sunglasses).

[more LL images here via Ms ModernRox]

– Stop the presses: Jenna Bush sticks out her tongue at the media!!! Normally I would be turned on by any such thing involving her mouth, but she’s all Bitched @ Swirth with poison preventer, Mr Yuk. [Scoop via Navi]

– Beck has recruited the Dust Brothers to work on his new album. I guess that means this one will actually have a chance at being good, which would be the exactl opposite of his last disc, the booooooooring/slumber-fest known as Sea Change.

– Is it football season yet? Not soon enuff, but Redskins training camp starts July 31st!!!!!! Get a free invitation to attend here.

– Meet the Russian Michael Jackson.

– Mayor Mike’s daughter Georgina looks mad fly with a riding cap on, but not so much without it. Maybe I should concentrate my efforts on Ivanka Trump.

– Are these cards more worthless than a complete set of Garbage Pail Kids Series 412?

– Hot bike. Hot chick not included.

– Peace the f%$k out Guided By Voices. Catch em while you can.

– American cigarette companies should take note of this. But then again, they actually want people to buy their nicotine treats and die. [Link via Guns ‘n’ Rosenthal]

– That is one giant ball o’ paint, I tells ya. [Link via Zach de la Roachclip]

– Inmates escape to buy beer. Then return to jail with beer.

– Pathetic: Prince Charles takes his 1st cab ride ever. Maybe mumsy will allow him to buy his 1st porno mag too.

Listen now rude boys, if you don’t have HBO by now, it’s time to stop buying that monthly porno and hunker down a whopping $12.95 a month before I come to yer MASH (mansion, apartment, shack, or house) and beat you down. And if you don’t even have cable, it’s time to denounce yer citizenship and head back to Mother Russia you communist swine. America was built on cable TV. Why do you think dem Pilgrims left England? 5 channels of snooker and woman’s curling? Eggggzactly. Anywho, get HBO, NOW. Why o rye? Cause tonight’s presentations of Six Feet Underful and the brand spankin’ new Da Ali G Show were so phat, they were off the pH scale (not an acid, nor a base).

I have berry high eggspactations for this season’s Da Ali G Show and the first episode did not let me down one megabyte. Classic Ali G (the ATF canine bit was umcredible). Classic Borat (Polaroids speak louder than words). And yes, even classic Bruno (wanted to give a gay converting pastor a lap dance). I hadn’t laughed this much since the Calvin Coolidge administration.

And now for Six Feet Fumendercheese love. This show does not quit. Alan Ball is so on the ball that he’s the Pele of TV. Tonight’s ep was one of the best of the entire series. Period! Exclamation point. I won’t get into sordid details about what happened, as I’d prefer you actually watch the replay sometime this week on HBO14MST (HB0-14-Mountain Standard Time), but it was one of the most terrifying and gut-wrenching episodes of not only Six Fleet, but of telly-vision in the last few years. If only The Sopranos were half as good as Feet Thunder in its 4th season. I think they were too busy arguing over a cannoli and doing the same things 32 times over. Anywho, bravo Alan Ball. May Hollywood just keep throwing money at you, cause yer one of the few who actually deserve it.

And here’s yer sorta-weekly Rachel Griffiths Bitched @ Swirth (sorry, but she does sort of scare me like dem puppets from The Dark Crystal):