Posts filed under ‘Writing’

Puke Rock Anthems and Pop Tatari

birds of maya

Birds of Maya by Valania

My review of the closing night of the Popped! Festival is up on Phawker.

April 16, 2007 at 5:31 pm 1 comment

My Beyond Beyond Review Is Up

justin bond
Justin Bond by James and James

Fagg girl steps out here

A hysterical myspace vid of Needles Jones

Yes, I know I need to update this blog desperately, but now my paying deadlines are calling. Coming up: Life Under Fugazi Rule andMy Queer as Folk Obsession.

March 20, 2007 at 3:03 pm Leave a comment

My Janeane Garofalo Review Is Up


Reviewing comedy shows is hard. I need to learn shorthand. Was I too fawning? Maybe. I just realized that I really missed her or someone like her in the world. Especially today, when it seems like a lifetime ago when someone like J Gee could be a romantic lead or even say the things she says. It’s like the world has gotten stupider and duller since the 90s.

March 12, 2007 at 5:08 pm 1 comment

The Good The Bad The Queen and zzzzzzzzzz


Dear Damon Albarn:

I’m sorry.

I still don’t totally understand why Valania assigned this to me, when he’s clearly more jazzed about it than I am. But JV as an editor gets points for remembering that I do still listen to and write about people with penises. Even though the record could have benefited from some awesome female guest vocalists, like say, Goldfrapp.

February 27, 2007 at 2:50 pm 1 comment

Why I’ve Been M.I.A.


My article about the Philly burlesque scene in the People Paper.

Obvs written before the fire at the Five Spot.

February 5, 2007 at 7:15 pm 1 comment

What’s Going On Here?


Image from Music Bulletin Boards

Basically, I’m treating this blog as some sort of bulletin board, where I stick up things that I like and show them to you. If I try to come up with a full-baked essay I won’t write anything.

January 23, 2007 at 6:44 pm Leave a comment

Rock Townsmen and Townswomen


Rob Sheffield and Chuck Eddy influenced my writing stylistically but it was seeing Evelyn McDonnell and Ann Powers in The Village Voice, and reading Rock She Wrote that made me think that my own little voice might have a place in the world of rockcrit, or any world for that matter.

So that makes me look forward to Evelyn’s upcoming book, “Mamarama,” a portrait of a rock mommy. So far, this is my favorite line from the excerpt on her childhood. I can’t wait to read more:
“Though record collecting now seems to have become the ultimate nerdy fanboy domain, it was we girls who traded 45s while boys fretted over baseball cards.”

She points out later, however, that later, she and her older brother’s music habits began to diverge slightly:

Brett and I shared 45s and LPs. He was at least as obsessed with music as I was, and since he was older, I learned about bands from him. He checked records out of the library: Joni Mitchell, Led Zeppelin, Cream. The first one bored me, and the second one scared me, but Wheels of Fire, I dug. When our ages were still in the single digits, I owned more 45s than he, but once we hit the doubles, his LP collection outpaced mine. I wasn’t focused enough; I was buying clothes, jewelry, posters.


This might explain the lack of female membership on the listserv-turned-blog Rock Town Hall, but many of my friends on the list have played the part of my older brother over the years. These days I’m scattered between vintage dresses and TV and movies and gay culture and so many other things besides music, especially the kind of rock discussed on RTH, where I simultaneously feel like too much of a poptimist and a punk to fully partcipate and appreciate the discussions. Nevertheless, for those about to rock, I salute you!


One person who would have understood the link between dresses and rock and roll is Rob’s late wife Renee, punk-rockingly lionized here. I miss her and I’ve never even met her before. I even dreamt about her while reading the book. She kept telling me not to worry. I promised her I would stop worrying. And then when I woke up, I broke my promise to her several times. I guess I’m just wired to worry.

My favorite parts are about her taking control of her body and making her own clothes, the notes she leaves in the pockets, and her hats that he leaves all over Central Park.

But really no one’s nailed the review better than Mairead Case:

Sheffield isn’t the first rock critic to attempt an autobiography of loss, nor is he the first to write about a girl who isn’t in his life anymore—Klosterman did it, and so does Cometbus. But Sheffield goes a step further, because he gives Renée a voice, too. A couple of paragraphs are copied directly from notes he found in her pockets, and whenever he talks about her body, it’s about how she felt inside it, not what he wanted from it.

January 23, 2007 at 6:25 pm Leave a comment

Older Posts


January 2020
« Sep    

Posts by Month

Posts by Category