martha
Blue Crack Supplier
Well, I fucking love love love the Black Keys. So maybe I will when I get home from shopping this evening.
Of course you should. I suspect next year's show will be an improvement, and the spectacle is a pretty rare and special one.
Unrelated to anything, did any of you guys happen to check out the meteor shower? I watched for an hour or so, and it was pretty amazing.
As of press time, I'm the only one who enjoyed said tunes.
Some reviews ended too late for this edition. Please check online at yeehahpartner.com for full updates.
Oh, trust me. Hanging with you at Electric Fetus is one of the main reasons I'm even thinking about it.
I saw one. That was it. The story is longer than that, but the entire endeavor was pretty lackluster. I'll go ahead and chalk it up to light pollution even though we drove 15 miles south of the city. At least I got to open the sunroof and jam some meteor watchin' tunes (The xx, Yellow House, "Watching the Planets," etc). As of press time, I'm the only one who enjoyed said tunes.
Strangest Display of Affection I've Received From a Fan
I started getting these messages on MySpace a few months ago from this girl who would just ask the most offbeat, strange questions: "Hey, where do you think music is going?" and I would just respond, "I don't know... where is music going?" And she started asking about different places that we were playing. So then she started asking questions about tour dates that we had, like, "Oh hey, I see that you're going to be in New York, we should totally hang out. We can stay at my mom's apartment," and, "Hey, I see you're going to be in Paris," and she keeps referring to me as Andy, and I'm thinking, "My name's not Andy, it's Alan. Why does this person think that my name is Andy?" And she keeps saying, "We met a few years ago... don't you remember me?" So I start getting creeped out. Eventually she sort of slips up in one of the emails-- at this point I've stopped responding-- but she slips up and says, "You and the rest of MGMT can stay at my apartment," and I realize, "Oh my god, she thinks I'm Andy Van Wyngarden!" So then I explain to her, "Look, I'm terribly sorry, I hate to disappoint you, but that's not who I am, and you've sufficiently managed to creep me out."
Then when our stuff got stolen in Sacramento, my manager and I put out our numbers in case anyone had any information leading to the retrieval of it, and she was the only person who called. She called my manager. We were heading back down to L.A. to DJ, and I just hear him say, "No, Neon Indian isn't a side project of MGMT. Who is this?" Then she just hangs up. And the next morning, I get a phone call at 10 a.m., and I'm like, "Who is this?" and I just hear "[long sigh]" and then she hangs up. So I guess that's the strangest display of inadvertent affection, because it's actually not even intended for me, but she keeps insisting that I'm Andrew Van Wyngarden, when I think that at this point I've made it quite explicitly clear that I'm not. It's getting to the point where my friends and I are cracking jokes that it's going to be like the movie Misery-- I'm afraid we're going to play a show in her town, and she's going to break my legs and ask me to write an album for her.
My friend likes that band a lot. Haven't heard them though.