Thursday night Lips.

[Transcribed from notes written last night]

Hollywood Blvd. Night time scenery and plenty of it. Past Vine, past The El Capitan and Mann's Chinese Theatre. Past Hooters and Baja Fresh (When the hell did those get there?). Past the Four Goddesses of Hollywood.

The scene--WEHO--West Hollywood, but not the Boystown part--Hollywood and La Brea at The Lava Lounge. Good luck finding the place if you don't know where it is, and even better luck finding parking. But you can make it there if you try, and if you don't have someone riding your ass.

The lights are low; the drinks expensive, but semi strong; and the CD's that they play in between the bands skip. I might like this place if it were darker. Seedier. But the wet fog fountain makes up for it.

It's thursday night and I'm here to see The Lips--my friends--Mike Retro, Caro and Paul (plus the guitarist guru who's name I never remember) rock out. Because of sitting watching the piss poor Eyes Wide Shut (but hey, naked Nicole Kidman), and shitty parking, I was only able to catch the last 2 songs of Amberlie's band's (The Horribles) set. Good scream action, and fun guitar licks, at least until a string broke.

Next up was The Matachie or something like that.

Loud. Pseudo punk/noise/thing band with shitty vocals and really fucking great lyrics, and even better melodies--good progression and a cute tat'ed up drummer chick.

Natalie walked in the joint a little later, and yes, I'll say it---daaaaaaaamn! She looked good. Chatted a bit with--she's looking to find a second job to support her England Trip Habit.

"I need a vacation," she screamed into my ears over The Matashie, "and you just can't do that in LA on one job."

Amen that.

Crazy Jeff and his posse rolled in--Jeff's birthday--so I bought him a drink. Not that he really needed one. He'd been sippin on Seagrams in the parking lot.

But Crazy Jeff is a happy Jeff as always. Why don't I hang out with this guy mor often? I mean, he lives like 5 minutes away from where I work.

Set over, and I have to pee. Little red bathrooms (which make the urinal at the parlour look HUGE), and a plant in the dirty corner. The Matashie's "lead singer" is talking to someone and I'm just...uh...ignoring the conversation. It makes the piss crawl back up if they talk.

Back to the bar for Number 2 Doers and soda and in to the quite comfortable lounge seat thing, just in time for the Tee Vee Tube Hearts. Good almost Punk vibe coming off of them. They make me happy. I toast a drink to them.

There's a lot of that here tonight. Almost Punk. It's not the commercial Blink 182 thing, but it sure as hell ain't The Clash. Most of the bands are ont he good end of the Garage Band hype--with the exception of The Lips, who are a bit more focused, better rehearsed and well polished.

Outside for a bit for fresh air (and walking through the smokers), and met up with Tom (was it Tom? My memory is going, and I can't hear anymore) from The Pretty Scars. We'd recognized each other from girlmod's party, where we geeked out over LARPS and the strange civic ordinances banning them in some cities.

I nearly fell over when he made a White Wolf "overbid" joke at someone's expense. "How do you get a drink in this place? I can't get the bartender's attention...unless I overbid."

The Pretty Scars rocked! Yes, they remind me of a cross from Sponge and Bauhaus. Yes. Niiice. With some Ramones thrown in there. Wow.

Somewhere in there Dia showed up. Good girl. She's friends with Retro, et al. and it was good to see her here. It was an added bonus for her, as she didn't even know that The Lips were playing. She came for The Pretty Scars and thought that there wouldn't be anyone there she knew! HA!

And to quote The Rocky Horror Picture Show Interactivity--"And then there were Lips, and they were good...." Mike was in good form, and Paul is damn good back there on the drums. Caro always looks tough and lovely up there. And the Guitar god up there, wailed. Why can't I remember his name?

There was much wailing. Much dancing about by everyone who was still there and inside. Much singing along. I think that I should be able to do that at this point. It's good stuff. Great stuff. More people should come to their shows, as I think they'd like it. Mix up Joy Division with The Doors with Ziggy Stardust and you have The Lips. My ownly complaint is the same one that I always have--I want them to up his lyrics. Because he has good lyrics when you get to hear them.

Good time. I said my goodbyes and aided in breaking down the drum kit. Turned left through the parking lot towards my car.

Stopped in and paid a visit on Melissa and Brian. Brian was still up, drawing his amazing doodlesque drawings. Waved to the half sleeping Melissa, who woke for a quick moment to smile and wave.

Down the stairs, down the street, to my car, and down towards the 101, bumping Brahms all the way.