The Jams

These three:

"Nothing Else Matters" by Tiedye

"Vitamin C" by Can

"Rothaus" by Lindstrom & Prins Thomas

To these three:

"Goddamn Lonely Love" by The Drive-By Truckers

"Dress Rehearsal Rag" by Leonard Cohen

"I See a Darkness" by Bonnie "Prince" Billy

Over the course of four days. The proverbial rough and the smooth.

Judge the Book by Its Cover #3

I feel like there's not a ton to judge from this photo. Trifon Ivanov will mess your shit up. He'll use his teeth and forehead and toes, and there'll be some of his toenails that are claws.

He's clearly a tough custo, but it's not just the hair. Ivanov's face just looks like it was disassembled at some point and put back together in the dark by someone missing a few fingers. His eyes are dead like when Quint talks about a shark's eyes in Jaws. Ivanov's been through it. He's come back in times past and he'll come back again, possibly/DEFINITELY with one of those curved knife deals. His mob connections are shadowy and terrifying in that "linked to organ trafficking" way that makes it clear that they're real and don't care about divorcing you from your esophagus. Stoichkov certainly looks hard but never as feral and pre-moral as Ivanov. Like another hirsute, bulky center-back Ivanov seems at home choking a bear. Yet unlike Servet the dynamic is that of a primeval struggle. Beast versus beast. I also lovvvvve that the strip is buttoned to the top, the 'beater beneath totally visible.

UHM Presents a Rock N Roll Groupie's Inside Scoop

Legendary groupie Debbie Totonero, our pansexual woman in the streets and between the sheets, gives us a rare look at the sexual proclivities of a plethora of pop stars from the last 50 years. Here are some "revealing" excerpts from her meticulously-maintained "entry log".

-Pat Boone: Did some things with a Bible that I didn't think were possible. Gave the term "red letter" a whole new meaning.

-Johnny Cash: A perfect gentleman. No sermonizing or anything. His sperm was jet black, though.

-Loggins & Messina: I don't they ever actually touched me. Just spent the whole time staring into each other's eyes. Perked up when I mentioned piggy-back rides.

-Simon & Garfunkel: They were really into punching each other. There was a lot of blood. The tall one had a great ass, though.

-Michael McDonald: Wouldn't take off his turtleneck.

-Jack Johnson: I fell asleep at some point and woke up with sand inside me.

-Ice Cube: Really wanted to do it in front of a bunch of kids but sometimes you have to draw a line.

-Ice T: His skin felt like Braille. Did bring back some fond memories with the old folded hanger "pimp stick".

-Katy Perry: Took a lot of work. She didn't understand what pants were and spent most of the time talking to a shoe.

-Peter Gabriel: Referred to his penis as "The Sledgehammer" about two dozen times. More than just "the light, the heat" ended up in my eyes that night. Pretty sure he called me Phil.

-Janis Joplin: Thought I was Leonard Cohen. She was looking for #2 and was totally loaded so it took a minute to explain that I was in 2A. An honest mistake.

-Vince Neil: The last time I'll ever give road head.

-Hanoi Rocks: See above.

-Steely Dan: Weirdly aloof. Insisted that we do dozens of "takes" to get it perfect. Got really mad when I called one by the other's name.

-Tyler, the Creator: Really into ass-play. I'm surprised that guy could walk the next morning.

-Neil Diamond: Saggy man-boobs. Used a condom that was somehow brocaded.

-Zooey Deschanel: Short-circuited halfway through. Gibbard assured me it happens all the time. Somehow performed at the Grammys in the process.

Thanks, Debbie! We hope to hear more tales of backstage tete-a-tetes soon.

What's the Deal?

I feel like Ted Leo's influences are pretty easy to spot. Dude is obviously really into The Jam and The Byrds, and The Flamin' Groovies and a bunch of power-pop groups that have that great, small-scale sense of heroism about them. They're made up of guys who make great poppy rock tunes and recognize that the implied popularity of that music (hence the name) is immaterial. I like Ted Leo's records fairly well and don't mind that some of his songs sound like songs from other bands. But his song "2nd Ave., 11 A.M." is such a strange, overtly piecemeal conglomeration of two songs that the end effect is distracting. This song is clearly the Rites of Spring song "By Design" combined with the Rembrandts' theme song for the show "Friends". It's a weird juxtaposition yet even if it combined two songs that ruled (I love RoS and am a sensible human and hate the "Friends" song accordingly) "2nd Ave." still wouldn't work. It's no fun to hear something whose construction is so transparent; consisting of clearly discernible parts, "2nd Ave." feels like a laboredmath equation. On an album with lots of rad tunes ("High Party", "Ballad of a Sin Eater", "Where Have All the Rudeboys Gone?"), this one is out of place.

What a Clutch Missed Connection.

Tanya from queensryche concert - m4w - 41 (Philly at the spectrum)

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Date: 2011-05-04, 12:22AM EDT

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We met while standing in line for t-shirts
you were with your friend millie
we had just snuck back in after being ejected for stage diving
we hooked up and had a brief love affair afterwards
i often find myself thinking about you and how you are
if u see this email me back

The Guy with the Hockey Mask from the St. Lunatics!

At first it seems like there are 10,000 people in the background for Nelly's "Country Grammar" video but then it seems like there only about 150, and most of them are really sassy daytime-hookers or dudes with awesome shit on their shoulder.

Judge the Book by Its Cover #2

Case #2

This man looks like a cigarette. Magico Gonzalez, mythical Salvadoran star for Cadiz in the 80s, has such an awesome weathered look, especially for an athlete. It's always great to see a sportsperson who clearly doesn't take care of themselves. You know that Magico is sipping Old Crow in some fake wood-paneled dive on the archipelago, face inches away from the bar in a lean while his teammates doze at home. He's got dirt and flecks of paint in his hair and beneath his fingernails. I'd imagine he'd like to put "When I Paint My Masterpiece" by the Band on the jukebox and become wistful at the string and saw of Arcadia. He'll shuffle out after being told by the barman that he may not fall asleep in his stool and when he wakes up on the couch, joints stiff and befuddled, his mouth will taste of vomit. In the previous century this picture would appear on Wanted posters, not bedroom walls. Seeing this faded outlaw makes me want to support Cadiz CF, now in Spain's third tier, and also hang with extremely weathered cult heroes from the 1980s who weren't in hair bands. I definitely want to buy the shirt.