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I have overplayed Best Coast’s debut full-length from Mexican Summer, “Crazy For You,” to the point of nausea, since August of this year. I blast it in the car, listen to it in the bedroom, sing what words I can remember during my morning shower, let it seep through the speakers when I’m blogging about other bands. You might think I’m obsessed, but I would argue that it’s not about me. Something in the girly, silly, lazy, bratty, surfy, stony, gritty indie tuneage adheres to the brain and you kinda can’t shake it. It’s hard to imagine that anybody could.
In short, Best Coast is crack. And my stereo is the pipe.
There’s something about “Crazy For You” that takes me to a different place, outside of the eastside LA hood that I happen share with the band, a place somewhere in my memory: It’s the late nineties, I’m wearing a Cub tee and bright red lipstick, leaning against a beat-up mid-century office chair (the fruit of a good dumpster dive) on the floor of an artfully dingy Bay area dining room, inhaling the pervasive house aroma (a mix of Nag Champa, wheatgrass, clove cigarettes, dusty vinyl, rum and crappy Canadian weed) of my host’s charmingly shitty abode. The house is filled with friends that only seem to wear various shades of hemp. We’re ranking all the bands on Lookout! Records. I’m listing rockass chick bass players I wish I could be. We all just bought a bunch of used first-edition CDs at Amoeba. I don’t own a cell phone. Nothing in this moment is ironic. Nobody has ever used the word “hipster” to describe someone or something occurring after 1970.
It’s a fantastic escape. I feel light, like I did then–when a drive to SF, lap around Haight-Ashbury and $5 rock show was all a person needed to feel alive. But always, the album ends and I realize that I’m looking at my laptop, writing about famous assholes and dirty Continue reading ROCK OF ASIAN: Best Coast
Filed under: Bay Area, Best Coast, Best Coast "Crazy For You", Crack, Debut Album, Echo Park, LA Bands, Lookout! Records, Los Angeles, Memories, Mexican Summer, Nostalgia, San Francisco, Vinyl Records, Weed
Occupation: Model, singer for LA band West Indian Girl
Why She’s A Babe: We’ll admit, we didn’t know much about Q (apparently she goes by the letter to avoid lengthy conversations about her actual name) until her engagement to Trent Reznor was announced today. But there’s no denying of this lady’s hotness–cuz she rocks in her own right, refuses to tone her wild style down, and–like her whole family (in her own words)–was “corseted by God” wtih a teeny-tiny, s-s-sexy and womanly waist.
Okay, we’re officially jealous. Not of her upcoming nuptials, but definitely of her corset.
I re-watched my friend Daniel’s film loudQuietloud, a documentary about my favorite rock band The Pixies, on the long flight over from LA to NYC last weekend. However you feel about the vérité content, which poetically shows the seminal band’s disparate–and sometimes desperate–situation, it’s loaded with beautiful mixes of their timeless songs and inevitably puts me in the mood for every song of theirs I’ve ever loved. In addition to desperately wanting to listen through my entire Pixies discography, I’ve had a hankering for Fugazi’s Repeater, Modest Mouse’s Lonesome Crowded Night, Blonde Redhead’s La Mia Vita Violenta! and Pavement’s Slanted and Enchanted ever since.
What a perfect time for The Moonrats, a ridiculously beautiful LA trio that reminds us of everything we liked about music in the 90s, using winky, modern Isaac Brock-style interpretations, all with a kind of Arcade Fire exuberance. That is not to say that they don’t have something special all their own. Rather, they feel a bit like a college best friend– who was so fashionable, smart, fabulous, and familiar always, and years later, even with increasingly infrequent visits, they feel only more familiar and better with age.
Listen up here.