OK, I’m used to the MTV Video Awards being a big pile of suck anyway, but usually there’s something goofy to watch. Tonight, the big thing was that the show closed with a performance by the newly reunited Guns N Roses.

Now, if you haven’t heard… the “reunited” Gunners are basically Axl and bunch of new dudes. (actually, I think Izzy’s back too but I’m not sure) That’s it. No Slash. No Duff. No… whoever the drummer was. I actually think I saw an ad for Steven Adler drum lessons a few years ago in the back of the LA Weekly.

Anyhow, as bastardized as this reunion was going to be, I figured they would at least show up and perform like a good novelty act should. But they were horrible. Axl’s voice was completely shot, and the rest of the band had none of the power and force that should come out of a band calling itself Guns N Roses.

Hell, I don’t even like Guns N Roses that much and that performance just made me furious. It was technically poor, and had no emotional punch to make up for it. It started with a limp version of Welcome to the Jungle, segued into a really bad power ballad and closed with a weak version of Paradise City. By the end of Paradise City, Axl’s voice was completely blown. The whole thing was just really sad, and made me realize I’ve seen better performances of those songs at karaoke.

For comparison, Bruce Springsteen knocked out a (admittedly average) performance to open the show outside in the rain, but then proceeded to play for another hour while the award show went on, just because there were people gathered in the rain to see him.

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So this past Saturday I hit up the Hollywood Bowl again with the crew, and it was alternatingly the best and worst night I’ve spent at the Bowl. It was the the Tchaikovsky Spectacular, which included a full fireworks show during the 1812 Overture. It’s a great way to spend an evening.

Unfortunately, too many people agree with me. The Bowl was packed to the gills, so much so that they ran out of parking. We were also surrounded by this gigantic family filled with kids. Now, I know kids are going to get restless and a bit out of control during this sort of thing. I know if I was eight years old I would probably be absolutely batty. That doesn’t explain why the parents insisted on talking throughout the show though. This ain’t your living room, pal.

Grrrrrrrr.

The next day I trudged out to Sunset Junction, which is essentially a huge street fair in Silverlake. They lock up a long stretch of Sunset Boulevard and fill it with rides of death, games of redemption, and booths of funnel cake. While I like street fairs well enough, the real reason I dragged my ass out was that Sleater-Kinney was playing a free show at the end of the night.

As always, they put on a great show, fighting off technical difficulties to play an hourlong set of mostly new material and a couple of older tracks. Tracks like Oxygen and Light Rail Coyote absolutely catch fire live, while Sympathy and Step Aside let Corin Tucker expand her vocabulary into blues and soul with remarkable success. Carrie Brownstein remains one of the single most charismatic stage presences around, and I had to openly chuckle when she fired up the wah pedal during Step Aside. Janet Weiss’s drums were mixed incredibly loud last night, often overpoweringly so. The extra volume actually helped though, as most songs rumbled like a runaway train and pulsed with life. Classics like like Call the Doctor and Dig Me Out have lost none of the their resonance over the years, and still remain the high energy showcases for the show.

The audience wasn’t terribly into it, and I think Sleater-Kinney works a bit better at an indoor show when all the energy and force gets compressed into this little box. The sound was pretty awful too, with the vocals too low in the mix and Carrie’s microphone encountering heavy feeback during Funeral Song. Still, Sleater-Kinney fought on and delivered admirably, showing off the incredible professionalism and skill that often eludes musicians these days.

The pictures I took didn’t come out, so just pretend that this attached picture was actually in Hollywood and outdoors at Sunset Junction and not at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. Hey, I never claimed journalistic integrity, did I? Here’s another pic I didn’t take:

Sidenotes regarding concert jackassery:

If a band is promoting the new album that came out last week, it is a dumb thing to yell out “When does your new album come out?” TWICE. Especially when the first time someone anwswered by yelling “It came out last week, superfan!”

If you’re a supposed punk rocker (complete with designer mohawk) it isn’t cool to stand in the middle of a crowd and yell stuff about being a real punker. No one cares. Especially when I saw you mouthing the words to Cheap Trick during the warmup, you poser.

It’s 2002, I’m 25 years old, I don’t need people moshing around me. I don’t need any more elbows in the kidneys.

When the band actually admonishes you for moshing, and you then proceed to body surf the next song to prove how cool you are, you are officially a dumbass.

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There was a hell of a lot of X-Games on today, and bunches and bunches of crazy, crazy tricks.

In Freestyle Motorcross, Mike Metzger not only hit the backflip, until now the holy grail of MotoX, but he hit so many of them that by the time the finals came around, he decided to hit them BACK TO BACK. In MotoX, you’re using an actual gas powered bike, so it’s all high speed, big air, and the last thing people have been thinking about is pulling that 250 pound back OVER their heads by doing a backflip. Well, until now. Metzger hits the backflip so easily now he’s saying his next trick will be to do more tricks while he’s inverted in the flip.

The second mindblowing moment of the day happened in BMX Vert Ramp, where The Condor, Mat Hoffman, did the impossible once again. Dropping in with a chance to take first, he decided that he would go for a No Handed 900. The surprise factor was in full effect, as no one was even expecting the No Hander 900. That’s two and a half revolutions in the air with your arms extended. It was incredible, with full extension in his arms, and ridiculously fast rotation, Hoffman still needed every inch of air, landing practically in the flat of the ramp with remarkable force. Unfortunately, two tricks later he jammed his handlebars on a flare and was unable to finish his run under time. He STILL got a silver medal, and would have easily taken the gold had he not run into his technical problems.

The entire X-Games Video Archive is here.

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If I had a Lego stereo, I’d probably be pumping Queens of the Stone Ages‘ Songs for the Deaf through it for a good part of the day. I was never much of a Queens fan, but the new record has Dave Grohl sitting in behind the drumkit, adding a new thumping foundation to the sound. As much fun as the Foo Fighters are, it’s amazing to hear Grohl pounding away again. You can hear the drumskins hold on for dear life from the sheer force of it all.

Grohl’s addition aside, Josh Homme remains the star and Songs for the Deaf showcases some seriously weighty riffing. Like all metalheads, it’s derived from Zeppelin and Sabbath, and most reminiscent of Kim Thayil’s nimble rhythm work in Soundgarden. On songs like Millionaire and First it Giveth Number One, Homme’s work is pushy and inconsiderate like true asskicking guitar work should be.

People bemoaning the state of rock should definitely take a look at Songs for the Deaf. Play it like the title recommends. Crank the volume as if you were Marlee Matlin and feel the thudding in your chest. That’s the kind of treatment the material deserves and demands.

(Writer’s Note: I totally struggled with words to describe Josh Homme’s guitar sound. How many synonyms for heavy are there when it comes to music?)

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While I was shuffling around the Giant Robot store tonight, I came across a hell of a lot to covet, but nothing made me lust harder than the Lego Stereo. That’s right, that thing you see above is a STEREO. The woman behind the counter almost made me cry when she said it was not for sale.

Ah, but it is on sale! From the fine folks at QMPO. Of course… they only sell it in Japan. Dude. Anyone in Japan want to hook a brotha up?

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I’m sure in another two days, everybody and their mom will have one of these, so…

How well do you know Han? Take the Test!

Feel free to create your own and send me the URL. I’ll be happy to show you just how little I know about you too.

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No one ever said it was going to be a smart picture, did they? Imagine every “action sport” stunt tweaked to fit into a flimsy plot about being a superspy, throw in some video game references and you have the perfect movie for every braindead teen in America that burned hours and hours trying to master that million-point combo in Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Incredibly shameless, but that’s why it’s fun.

I wish more Hollywood pictures were like this, not because this is some Great Important movie, but because it delivers the stuff that Hollywood is actually good at (giant ridiculous stunts) and doesn’t even bother to deliver the rest. xXx is stupid and pure and joyful in a way that summertime at the movies should be.

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You know, I like Beth Orton and all, so I bought her new record, Daybreaker. It’s OK, nothing mindblowing or anything. The thing that bothered me… could she put out a record that doesn’t have her staring pensively at something off screen?

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Now that I’ve let Phil’s orgy entry marinate on the front page for a while, I guess it’s time to get back to the normal programming.

It’s been a slow time for flicks, so I haven’t really caught anything great lately. Eight Legged Freaks was disappointing, as there were too many spiders and not enough weird quirky people getting killed, which is really the only reason to see these types of movies (like Lake Placid and Tremors). The Crocodile Hunter, on the other hand, was bizarrely appealing, on a Jackie Chan, “DUDE DID HE JUST DO THAT” level. The makeshift plot was ridiculous, but a guy really wrestling a crocodile is just amazing. After watching Croc Hunter, I realized I have a real fear of snakes, much more than spiders or crocodiles. I’m gearing up for xXx and Blue Crush, both of which I will be mildly drunk watching, if all goes to plan.

This past weekend was nerd convention weekend apparently, as both the San Diego Comicon and computer hacker’s DEFCON went down. Congratulations to anyone that went to either and survived.

Anyone that’s not sick of me going on and on about Sleater-Kinney can now go to the KillRockStars webpage and listen to their entire album, streaming, for free. If you dig it, pre-order it straight from KRS and support your indie labels. They also put up the lyrics, which really helps me out, as I’ve been singing the wrong lyrics this entire time. “If you think like Thomas Edison, could you invent a world for me,” she says. All this time I thought it was “could you invent a word for me,” which makes no sense whatsoever and yet I was perfectly willing to sing it at 100 decibels to annoy my neighbors with. I’m used to this all, of course, as R.E.M.’s my favorite band and you couldn’t understand anything off the first three albums or so. “We could gather, throw a fit” vs. “We could gather through our fear” is probably my favorite misheard R.E.M. lyric, just because the misheard one is actually better (through our fear, in case you were wondering). Um, let’s detour back to Sleater-Kinney for a second, as LesbiaNation just ran a nifty interview with my new guitar hero, Carrie Brownstein.

Lastly, anyone that likes old school soul like Otis Redding needs to go buy the new Solomon Burke record Don’t Give Up On Me. The genre’s pretty light these days, the last thing of this genre I can remember being slightly huge was the Commitments. Burke is the real deal, the world’s greatest soul singer, this time singing songs written for him by the likes of Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Tom Waits and Brian Wilson. It took me a while to get into the record, but it really is as phenomenal as it sounds. Despite the amazing pedigree of its songwriters, the real star is Burke, who is able to interpret all the tracks and make them his own, even though you can still hear the trademark songwriting techniques bleed through. It’s just an achingly good record, and Anti has it streaming and offers up a track for download, as well. E-Music subscribers can download the album in its entirety too.

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