What the Fuck Should I Do Tonight: Glam Rock Weekend Edition!!







I mean sometimes you just get the shittiest of Motley Crüe songs stuck in your head? Look, no one disputes that “Home Sweet Home” is one of the greatest rock ballads to come out of the 80’s. Furthermore, it was written by the Crüe themselves, not even a Jim Steinman or a Desmond Child. How in the fuck did they pull that off, neck deep in a very hairspray-encrusted, tattooed, lace-gloved cocaine sinkhole? We don’t fucking know. Look, here’s a Hot Controversial Take™: Dr. Feelgood is not a terrible album, given the circumstances, given the time and place. I still sing “Don’t Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)” at karaoke because that song is grade A hilarious and also quit being such fucking dicks, Men of Motley Crue. So odd that you would take all of your style tips from the women in your life (or maybe Joan Collins? Not sure) but not want to also hang with those women, generally. Fucking gross. I hate you so goddam much, your gender politics are the worst.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much...

Methinks the lady doth protest too much...

Also Vince Neil’s voice is not seaworthy in any other time and place but LA in the late 80’s.



Still confused as to why LA Guns never ascended to that particular throne. Hotter, better sounding, way more wistful. Just look at these bangable pieces of shit:

ALSO: where is my tribute 2 Glam Rock, PORTLAND? My last dwelling, Seattle, would be ALL ABOUT THAT and they would be right, and that would be good. John Nels, I know you’re out there and you can sing all these songs, don’t even front with me. OH, YOU DON’T LIKE THOSE SONGS? THEY'RE FOR OLDS AND SQUARES? Too bad! People who are 35+ have disposable income to spend on your Tribute 2 Glam Rock Sponsored By Hot Trash: Portland! just a suggestion but also not a suggestion more like a plea? A cry for help? WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?  

If you do it, I’ll dress like a bloated Brett Michaels and sing “Talk Dirty To Me.” Not joking. I’m very good at it.


Friday Feb 3

A different kind of activism: this First Friday Cross Cultural Music and Dance Jam! It’s at the library from 6-8 during the art walk. Maybe for once just challenge yourself to talk to someone who doesn’t look and act exactly like you at all times.  

Don’t be a dink: Rough Francis is at Empire, with Covered in Bees and TheWorst opening. I can report back from the front lines that this is the hot shit because I went to TheWorst rehearsal last week and they have this new song that’s, like, all driving bass and Sonic Youthian ovary-first bravado and shreddy anger, and singer/songwriter/guitar player Brooke Binion has the best fucking lyrics: “I have no vices left to try and I have no spirit left to kill.”   

Same, girl, same.

Also, Rough Francis should be the most famous band in America right now (they’re not, that’s our fucking fault, how dumb are we), and Covered in Bees’ Boo is the best frontman that Portland has now or will ever have. That’s right, frontmen of the future! I defy you to match his bewitching combination of bravado, comedy, great ease and natural performance ability, and general “I’m over it” attitude. Good fucking luck, dillrods, get out of here.

Nice try, though. 

Nice try, though. 

If I’m on the east side, though, and I don’t want to go to a kickass rock show for whatever stupid reason, it’s not my sad life, I’d go over to Oxbow for On The One, which is a DJ set from Hi-Duke and Fava Le Chic, with lasers even, who spin excellent synth funk, the kind that inhabits that chimeric, time-bending space between “Aint’ Nobody” and “Wanna Be Starting Something” populated by tiny winged Quincy Jones cherubs that just fucking reach up between your butt cheeks and tickle that dancehole until you just move it, move it, amirite?  

Lady Lamb is releasing her new EP at SPACE Gallery. I like her music, but she always looks so upset. I mean I get it, girl, I guess I always look upset too. HOW COULD WE NOT ALWAYS LOOK UPSET GIVEN WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

Plague is happening tonight, of course, since it is Friday; Flask has LOVE; Salvage has my number one Portland music crush, the amazing, perfect and delightful Pete Witham and the Cozmik Zombies; PCMH has touring artist Whiskey Myers; PHOME has *long sigh* Pardon Me, Doug; Stroudwater Distillery out at Thompson’s Point is hosting a karaoke night (hot tip: sing “Don’t Go Away Mad, Just Go Away” and you’ll bring the house down);

Between 6 and 9, though, please go at least stop by and see fascinating Portlandier Remy Brecht perform at Inked Wing. His troupe was at Sacred and Profane last fall and their performance was compelling and dark and as strange as it was eerily familiar.

And for the last punk as fuck thing I’ll throw at you, lady trio the Resinosa Ensemble are playing pieces from all women composers at the First Parish Church from 7-10pm.  

Solid fucking Friday, Portland, well done.

Saturday February 4

I know y’all normcore Tom Brady crackheads are going to be home today getting ready for all that bullshit stuff about balls that they play before and after the halftime show, but for us Urban Intellectuals, Olds, Queers, Dancehall Queens and Gen-Xers, they are doing a tribute to George Michael at PHOME to put the boom boom into our hearts and make our souls fly higher when the loving starts.

A Burlington jamband is at Bayside Bowl; Salvage has Big Ass Rooster; Flask has a deep house party called Party Bear; Over at Local Sprouts, some singer/songwriters are angry at the Exalted Cheeto Shrimp; some other shit is happening, look at the calendar, boo.

The mighty Wood Brothers are at The State Theatre tonight. These guys are doing the fine wine thing and just getting better and better with age. It’s spendy though at $25, but I think that can be worth it.

And lastly, the group of privileged white men who can’t see beyond their own little racist bubble to recognize that - considering that their music is that of another race and culture whose very lives have been exploited by white people for centuries to make money, whose music is deeply rooted in resistance to oppression, taking back power, and faith - their band name is fucking offensive, are doing the 5th annual Bob Marley tribute at Empire. I'm not going to link to it because you shouldn't go. Yes I will judge the fuck out of you if I see you standing around outside Empire for this show. Because seriously, you can’t even consider just changing “gorilla” to “guerilla?” Not even now, in a post-abandoned-leather-bomber-jacket-covered-in-Dorito-dust America? Cool, cool, cool - maybe take ten seconds to read about what the casual and systematic use of slurs does to oppressed communities? I’ll make it easy, here’s a HuffPo piece about it, they don’t ever use words longer than five letters, you guys should be able to get through it.

And yeah, I am a fucking bitch. And a cunt. And a slut. And all the other misogynist language you like that's intended to belittle me and silence my voice. I don't, as the kids say on the Internet, give a fuck. 

I’m so fucking over all the casual racism. We all need to stop and listen, and we need to recognize the roles we play - however small - in creating inequality and economic disparity in our own fucking communities. It’s bullshit, it's ugly. I don't pretend to know what it's like to experience racism, I honestly don't understand that feeling, how could I. But how the fuck can I not have empathy for people who do, and therefore live my life to prevent that kind of pain from happening, whenever possible? Maybe I’m not perfect, but I’m trying to know myself, I’m trying to put a hard light on the truth of what my role is and has been in the oppression of citizens of color. Sometimes when I think back on the things I’ve done or said, or just assumed about people, I cringe. I cringe hard and deep. I regret my words, I regret my actions, I regret my youthful ignorance. I want to apologize, but mostly there’s no one to apologize to. Sometimes I even regret my feelings or my thoughts. But you know what, if nobody is grading my paper, there’s no chance for me to get better and do better next time. There’s no way to recognize the impact I have. That’s what learning is about. That’s what being human is. Hence all that extra fucking brain matter we’re saddled with. Make your mistakes, then learn from them and don't do them again.

Heavy. You know, I mean shit's heavy right now. It's always been heavy.

Sunday February 5

I suppose after that you can go to Flask for their After the Bowl party. I can't link to it because something is wrong with squarespace, but here's a URL:


ok butterballs, have a good super bowel/first friday weekend, go see some music, go to the new PMA opening, be kind, be compassionate, be smart, and always remember what I say cause it goes this way-ay, girl? Don't go away mad! Girl, just go away! Girl, don't go away mad, girl, just go away!