My Own Self-Satisfaction Mix

I like throwing parties for one reason and one reason alone: I get to make the playlist. I can’t begin to tell you how often I go to parties and there is virtually no thought given to the music getting played. Okay, that may be an exaggeration. I rarely get invited to parties, but often, when my neighbors throw them and I walk by, I can tell the music sucks and I’m happy they didn’t invite me, because I don’t need to go to their really fun, raucous party if they’re going to play lame music. Screw them.

Anyway, Christine and I had a little shindig this past weekend. (I won’t call it a barbeque, because my Southern friend, James, pointed out, that if I’m not smoking the meat, I’m just “grilling out.”) From what I remember, it was a pretty good time. My memory is poor though. I used a margarita recipe my friend Katie recommended: one can of frozen concentrated limeade, one can of tequila, and three light beers… originally it was two, but I had to dilute it somehow. That surprisingly tasty and obviously strong recipe, which I nicknamed “the marga-ruffie,” along with my playlist pretty much ensured that I was going to have fun even if no one else did.

The way you shape a playlist depends on the type of atmosphere you’re trying to set. If you’re having a wine and cheese Christmas party, perhaps jazz and/or bossa nova is more appropriate than hardcore rap. In the case of a late afternoon/evening bbq (fuck James, I’m not from the South), you’re looking for music chill enough that people can talk, but interesting and upbeat enough to keep people drinking and having fun. Songs longer than five minutes are automatically excluded. As are songs with long intros or outros (think Wu Tang Clan’s Method Man intro… it’s torture mother fucker if you have to listen to that at a party). Instrumental music is something I love, but another no-no for party mixes.

My bbq mix was about 40% hip-hop (The Roots, A Tribe Called Quest, Common, Kanye West, Blackstar, Jay-Z, etc.) Maybe 25% of the mix is high energy indie rock (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, The White Stripes, Modest Mouse, The Fiery Furnaces, The Arcade Fire, etc.) The remaining third of the playlist is split up evenly between ska/reggae (The Slackers, Bob Andy, Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff, etc.), classics (Bob Dylan, The Police, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, etc.) and a variety of stuff I was hoping people had never heard, but would be impressed enough to ask you about. (I’ve mentioned many of these bands in the past, but: Aberfeldy, Le Tigre, Andrew Bird, Darrel Scott, Little Brother, Ms. Dynamite, Okerrvil River, Pinback, Sergio Mendes, Vic Ruggerio, etc.) (With that setup, I could pretty much leave my iPod on shuffle and feel confident that the music would flow nicely all night.)

Whether or not anyone liked the music enough to ask me about it or just enjoyed the music at all, is unclear. Again, “marga-ruffies” lead to trouble, trouble which I have very little recollection of. But that was the goal, and whether or not anyone else enjoyed the music as much as I did, I’m fairly confident that I spent a good part of the night nodding along to the music in that way that white boys who truly lack rhythm always do. And the neighbors, who were invited, but were apparently too cool to show up, were very jealous and sad that they didn't come by… at least in my head.

Internet dating and French Bossa Nova Covers of Punk and New Wave Songs

In retrospect, my first six months in LA should’ve been incredibly depressing times. I lived in a shitty apartment where I co-existed with cockroaches and black mold (growing on my walls). Unable to get a job as a waiter or bus boy with my $30,000 education, I was a host at a shitty Mexican restaurant. My big break came when I started working part-time on Jimmy Kimmel Live, where I had a shitty boss who hated life so much, she could suck the fun out of a room faster than the bags of potato chips she poured into her greedy little mouth every afternoon. I didn’t have many friends, even less money, and nothing even remotely resembling the prospect of getting laid.

But I was in LA. On my own. It was new and exciting and whenever I’d start to get bummed out, I could always reassure myself that whatever suffering I was going through was just part of paying my dues. Still, a man wants a woman. A man goes out and gets a woman. I’m more of a boy, so instead of going out and trying to meet a woman, I turned to the Internet and hoped to find myself a girl. That last sentence really makes me sound like one of those Dateline 20/20 sex predators, doesn’t it? I’m not. Seriously, Christine is like three years older and she took advantage of me, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After working late on New Year’s Eve (2004), I rang in the New Year drinking a six-pack and IM’ing with my friend Lauren. She in Alabama, and equally lonely, had recently joined an online dating website called Okcupid.com. Lauren, who was slutting it up with every Tom and Dick she met (just kidding Lauren), managed to convince me to post a profile. She said I’d make it funny and she needed a good laugh. At first I told myself it was just for fun, but the website became kind of addictive and after realizing there were some really hot girls looking for love in LA, I was actually kind of hooked on it.

Now I only actually ended up going out with one girl (Sexy Refrigerator) and on our second date, I had to drag her out my Halloween Party because I’d fallen for this cutie Cyclops (Christine). Still, Okcupid ended up being a pretty amazing discovery. Aside from the voyeuristic pleasure of looking at pictures of other people and reading their profiles, it was a great way to discover new music. If a girl seemed smart, had good tastes in movies, books, music, and then listed a band I’d never heard of, I’d go out and download a song or two.

One of those joyous discoveries was the band: Nouvelle Vague. They’re a French group, featuring a few different female singers doing bossa nova covers of eighties punk and new wave songs. One other tiny tidbit -- the singers weren’t familiar with the original songs, so they’re take was totally unique. The band’s self-titled debut album is beyond chill. The female leads have some ridiculous voices, sweet-sounding and a joy to take in. The bossa nova purely acoustic swing only adds to my enjoyment of the music. It’s kind of the perfect album to have in the background as you work, or if a few friends are over and you’re playing trivial pursuit. It’s the kind of sound simple enough to enjoy without requiring much attention, but layered enough to appreciate on another level upon closer inspection.

Covers include The Clash’s “Guns of Brixton,” Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough of You,” The Dead Kennedy’s “Too Drunk Too Fuck,” and my two favorites, Modern English’s “I Melt With You,” and Public Image LTD’s “This Is Not a Love Song.” They’re sweet, and simple, and sometimes kind of sexy. Definitely a CD/band worth checking out.

Glancing over this entry I’m not quite what sure to make. I had a lot more Okcupid success with discovering music than I did with touching a boob. Singular of boob… one would’ve been enough those first six months. And this blog is probably the same. It won’t ever get me laid. Not even by my girlfriend who teases me about writing really long snooty rants about hippies when I’m really a hippie myself. But it’s a good place to discuss and discover music and hey, if it came down to giving up sex or music, sex has got to go… probably… maybe… it would be a tough decision.

Nouvelle Vague