Nerdiness Is WAY Hotter Than You Think. ('You' being, ya know, ... non-nerds.)

Okay, kids. This is not about music. It's a little about fashion because I'm gonna show you a picture of my new tattoo, which I think is EPIC.

Here's a little background on the conversation I'm about to post. I'm online, on Facebook, a little drunk, and this boy makes a nerdy as hell comment on the wall of one of my friends. AND I sent him a friend request, to which he replied: "What's up with the friend request?" This amazing exchange followed. Needless to say, we are now friends.

Elisabeth August 31 at 1:09am

What if I said I was possessed by an alien parasite, that temporarily took control of my brain and nervous function?

Matt August 31 at 9:29am

I'd say that you don't really want to be friends, just the parasite that took over your brain. After that I'd say that I'm a human supremacist, and refuse your friendship.

One more try. =)

Elisabeth August 31 at 10:27am

I'd say that an alliance is necessary to save a galaxy in peril -- a joining of the forces, talents, and deadly skills required to end a reign of tyranny and xenophobia. Skills and talents both you and I possess.

Your coming was foretold in the ancient book of Amun-Ra. (Well, either you or Imotehp ... It's tough to make out the actual name.)

Matt August 31 at 12:08pm
But as a human supremacist, wouldn't xenophobia be one of my traits? Wouldn't I want to encourage tyranny as a means of keeping the Heretic and The Xeno from making any kind of mark on our fine Homo Sapiens culture?

Sorry, you really gotta try harder. Imagine you're dealing with Renegade Shepherd from Mass Effect, or a servant of WH40k's God Emperor.

Also, my coming, if foretold in any ancient texts, would be in the Táin or the Lebor na hUidre.

But hey, you got another try! This is fun.

Elisabeth August 31 at 3:05pm

You make a compelling point, sir. Here I was trying to appeal to a man of singular mindset with pleas of peace and justice for every creature. Perhaps a compromise cannot be reached. In that case, I may have to turn my back on those I hold most dear and join forces with evil.

No longer will Twi-leks trade alongside humans on the streets of Coruscant (contaminating other non-compatible, non-humanoid species with their alien ways and toxins), no more the plaintive call of Teroenza's minions enslaving alien men and women to work in the spice mines of Nar Shaddaa (thereby ensuring the traffic of spice and downfall of lesser beings).

I can see now the error of my ways -- surely imposing our will on those lesser races will destroy them much more quickly than their own folly by way of self-governance.

Here I've been promoting human supremacy in a roundabout way, by letting lesser creatures destroy themselves over time ... When surely I might just have embraced this reign of human greatness from the beginning.

Matt August 31 at 5:43pm

Okay. You've won me over. Added.

Elisabeth August 31 at 8:13pm

Aaand.... match. Pure Sabacc.

Tell me that's not wonderful.

Sing out of your Cages...

Hey, team. To begin with, I’m wicked sorry it’s been so long between updates. I moved back to school two weeks ago and classes started last Monday so things have been ridiculously busy. I’ve got six classes and three jobs, a show to work box office for, auditions next week, a fun new church I wanna get involved with and some pretty new friends along with the old ones. This is all beside the point, though, and I’m hoping to make it up to everyone with a rather lengthy post about the Deas Vail show I saw last weekend. Hopefully you won’t get too bored, keep scrolling down for the pictures and video, it's all there.

To start, I got to make the wonderful drive from Rome to Athens. This is always a treat – sometimes it’s actually true since I tend to make friends with my new Atlanta Traffic Family as we all inch along the interstate. I got into town and Samuel met up with me shortly afterwards when we realized that we had no idea where the show was.

Naturally we spent the better part of the next hour scouring the internet for some kind of clue as to where in the mess we were supposed to be with no luck. All we had to go on was “Deas Vail, 5:00 @ The Point” with the only place even remotely close we knew of being the Melting Point which we knew couldn’t be correct. We decided to pull an August Rush and “follow the music” and made our way downtown

After calling everyone at UGA we could think of to ask for details with no luck, Samuel and I decided to drown our sorrows in pizza, sending Liz a message asking her to join us. It may sound silly, but I would drive that four hours just for Transmet pizza. I've done it before and will more than likely do it again. It might not have helped get us over the pain of missing our band when they were within some hidden five mile radius, but it would have been something. 

We had already parked in front of Transmet (a spot that good is unheard of) when Liz calls back and gives us beautiful directions that for some reason we’d been unable to find on the same wide internet. Apparently the Point isn’t some kind of venue, but a ministry that meets at Green Acres Baptist Church. Who knew? You do now.

Ten minutes later we pull up in front of the church to find some kind of dinner/tent looking thing going on – kind of the last thing we’d been expecting. There were two guys on a stage and a bunch of people eating and ignoring them, so we just walked up and took a seat. It didn’t take too long for someone to come up to us and say hey and we figured out that Deas Vail wasn’t playing until nine, but of course we could stick around and watch the other band and chill out til then, welcome to The Point.

A little while after this, Abel took the stage. I’ll be honest, Samuel and I weren’t expecting much. It was an outside tent show and we were literally the only two people up anywhere near the stage who seemed interested in what was going on. We were very pleasantly surprised. The band had some pretty solid guitar tones and a singer with a plaintive sounding voice that made me want to really believe what he was singing about.

The nice part was that even though the lyrics were really straightforward in their Christianity, there was nothing cliché or off-setting about them. I think that even those without any kind of religious proclivity would enjoy the songs on a simply musical basis.

The songs were nicely put together and hit hard when they did; a couple of the guitar solos were pretty legit so I wish they went on a little longer, but that’s really just a personal preference. They guys were personable both on and off stage and I’m pleased to say that the EP I got for only six dollars was an excellent purchase as of it helped drive me back to school afterwards. Hopefully it helped them buy some kind of dinner after their set, Choo Choo’s is open late and wicked cheap.

After this came the random health seminar – led by the wonderful Corey Little who used to be my dad’s personal trainer, small world – and finally finally Deas Vail played at nine. I’ll back up a few minutes, however, and say that while we were talking to Kevin Kneifel of Abel, the wonderful Justin Froning from DV comes wandering up to chat. Let me just say, that’s amazing.

To have a member of one of your all time favorite bands just walk up to you and say “thanks so much for coming out, it’s really awesome you drove so far to see us” is so ridiculously cool. It’s even crazier when they keep talking to you and you get to play the meet and greet game with the whole band after the show.

The show itself was an incredible experience. Wes Blaylock has one of the most beautiful voices out there and sounds just as dead on live as he does on his band’s recordings. He kinda stalks around with his mic stand and interacts with people even while he’s at his keyboard and seems like such a genuine person, it’s wonderful. His wife is stunning and an amazing musician, Justin is super fun and extroverted when he plays, Kelsey Harelson destroys his drum kit, and Andrew Moore took the time to geek out over pedals and guitar tones with Samuel after the set.

Unfortunately since my car wouldn’t turn on when we were leaving (typical), I didn’t have my camera gear so all you get this time is pictures and video from my and Samuel’s phones, but please excuse the quality since you can get the idea.

You know you love a band when they introduce new things and you don’t automatically tune them out. A lot of concerts, when the band announces they’re gonna try out songs from their new album, the crowd loses interest. Not so with Deas Vail. Samuel and I hung on every note of the songs from the upcoming “Birds and Cages” (these were the only songs we didn’t know all the words to) and I can honestly say there are very few albums I’ve been this excited about lately.

 Ok, so there’s been new Cobras, Mae, and Placebo with upcoming Panic!, MCR, Mute Math and others, but Deas Vail is going to be carving out a spot very near the top of that list if the tracks we heard last weekend are anything to go by. Brilliant.

So this is my Deas Vail tribute. Their music has gotten both Samuel and I through so many stages of our lives together (and his before he met me) and they’ve truly been an inspiration both musically and just to live the way we’re meant to. It was such an honor getting to meet them and see them play in such an intimate setting, I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better show.

I’m beyond psyched about seeing them play the Masquerade with Mae next month, maybe if we’re lucky they’ll remember who we are. Regardless, if you haven’t heard anything by this band, you need to invest in them right this second.

Again, I apologize for the huge gap in updates. With any luck I’ll be blogging later this week about the Closure in Moscow/Maylene/Emery show from three weeks ago and The Audition/DJ Skeet/Cobra Starship show from two weeks ago. Maybe since now I have jobs again I’ll be able to keep affording concert tickets to keep everyone updated. Wish me luck. Until then, keep checking back with the IndioTeam for your music and fashion needs!

How To Dress For A Cobra Starship Show

Okay, gang -- in an effort to prepare ourselves fashion-wise for the upcoming Cobra show (and the possibility that Gabe Saporta might lay eyes on us again), we will be expounding upon the different styles that might be utilized at a Cobra Starship show.

1) The American Apparel: This entails buying a purple hoodie from the notoriously "scene" American Apparel company. (Gabe may or may not model for the company. He looks good in purple. End of story.) Black or gray skinny jeans, or maybe a pair of neon colored denim shorts if you're feeling daring. A baseball cap or trucker hat help in the headgear department. We postulate that Gabe would support (Saport, hah!) clunky golden jewelry, preferably with cobras or an engraved image of J-Tim emblazoned on the shiny surfaces. Chuck Taylors or Vans, maybe Toms, depending on how conscious of third-world nations you want to be. Neon slouchy socks if you are wearing shorts -- or just pull them up over your skinny jeans, who the hell cares? And, of course, do not forget the large, white-framed spectacles which help your vision not at all.

2) The Town-Kid: Harder to define. If you are male, you will probably want to invest in a pastel v-neck shirt from a thrift store (you probably over-paid by ten bucks, if we're being honest). You also want shorts that come above the knee, preferably just short enough to make frat boys curl their lips at you. They should be either denim or corduroy -- maybe a suble pattern that looks like polka-dots at first glance, but upon closer inspection turns out to be tiny ducks.

Girlies ... you'll either need to wear lace leggings with a dress so short an outside show would result in your catching the croup, or really, really tight jeans. This could not be more important. These jeans have to be so tight that you cannot sit down, bend over, or sway to the music -- this is why most girls who go with this look opt to stand against the wall with an uncomfortable, "don't-fuck-with-me" look on their faces. Go for a scant tank top that shows off your prominent hip-bones (your jeans also need to be ridiculously low-cut) and then cover your cleavage with a voluminous "summer" scarf. A large broach or pendant will complete your ensemble, maybe a piece of rope tied around your head, a single braid draping edgily across your intense cheekbones, some neon eyeliner (with a product name like "Bitch" or "Arg!"), scruffy flats from China town that you've worn for the past fourteen years, an advantageously placed set of safety pins ... any or all of these would be appropriate.

3) The Scenester: Lots of eyeliner, male or female, doesn't freaking matter. Black, bitter, eyeliner. And either black or neon fingernails -- alternate fingers, if you wish. Your jewelry should probably be the type popular with a first-grade crowd -- Pretty, Pretty Princess beads, clunky vinyl flower headbands, giant patent leather bows, or rings the size of Utah. Clothing is pretty genderless as well, except that you gals should probably wear skirts the width of belts, to better expose your leopard-print leggings. Girl jeans and old band or cartoon shirts work well -- go all out and tattoo little stars on your face, right next to your eyelids. Your hair should either be swoopy, completely covering your eyelined eyes, or teased and huge. Or a mullet. Your choice, as long as it contains an edgy streak or two of blue or pink.

4) The Old-School Emo Kid: Square glasses, swoopy hair, ripped jeans, flannel overshirt covering something worn and holey, an "I slept with Boy George" button, well-loved shoes, and a messenger bag work for both genders. Stripes are also always a safe bet.

Go with one of these looks, and you will never feel out of place in the vicinity of Mr. Saporta ... we hope. We will be posting pictures to catalogue these looks sometime this week. Signing off for now, kids.

A great day for new music...

Though it's just another rainy day in Athens, today is a rather interesting day in the land of music. Not only do we get a new single by Panic! at the Disco, but we get the first song from ex-Panic! members Ryan Ross and Jon Walker's band The Young Veins. Brendon and Spencer have blessed us with a "New Perspective" while Mr. Ross and Jon cry for "Change." I would hold the two up to the light, but as of there's really no basis for comparison whatsoever, we'll just break them down a bit. The Panic! split was both a definite shock and a definite 'saw it coming.' Though the four make ridiculously good music together, if you listen to their new projects you can quite easily see that they don't exactly see eye to eye on a strictly musical front. 

As a preface, however, and to not seem like I'm stepping on toes, I thoroughly enjoyed both songs. My musical tastes jump from Tom Waits to Ben Folds to basically anything, so I'm not saying a single word against what I've heard today. All four of these men are incredibly different and gifted individuals who have truly found their callings and I will buy everything they put out. Music is more important than food or making my car run or new lenses or discount fabric, so thank you to the ones who can supply my fix. But ok.

"New Perspective" has some wonderfully layered guitar lines and a twinkly piano bit complete with poppy "woo-hoos" and a super catchy melody, I was sold pretty quickly. It nearly has a nineties pop sound, but it's cleaner and better produced, complete with some fabulous lyrics; Brendon somehow managing to sing "Can we fast forward to go down on me?" while still sounding completely sweet yet completely serious about it. It's almost a la, "Let's get these teen hearts beating faster," but more grown-up and straight forward. 

There's a bit of a Jellyfish-esque build up and break and when the music drops you can appreciate just how talented a vocalist this band truly has. There's pieces about moving forward, new passions, and inching through beds that, if you know anything about the current situation, might prompt a raised eyebrow or smirk if you're that way inclined. He sings that he wants to be praised from a new perspective and how getting out now would be a good idea, both thoughts being highly applicable to what's been going on and far less cryptic than some of the lyrics Panic! fans have been used to in the past. The words sound like they're directed at the now-absent Mr. Ross, but who am I to judge? This is purely speculation since I, unfortunately, don't know any of these men. I'm sure any of them could set me straight.

On a different note, Spencer Smith is a seriously underrated drummer. He's complex without being overshadowing or unseemingly flashy and if you go back to the previous albums and actually pay attention, he's so beyond merely solid. Props. The song seems to be a nice blend between the first "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out" album  and the more recent "Pretty. Odd" while still managing to be something completely new. The chorus has been stuck in my head all day, I definitely recommend giving it a couple listens.

The Young Veins respond with "Change." Ryan has clearly gone back to roots he's too young to actually have and created something straight out of the sixties PopRockFolk era. I definitely don't mind, however, and have no room to talk since I'm the biggest Bowie fan you'll ever meet under the age of about fifty. The song has a pleasant, bouncy rhyme and I was totally sold at the hand claps and tambourines. It's stripped-down without being sparse and complex enough that it's nothing to scoff at. The harmony lines are rather distinctly Beatlesy at times, but you can tell they've probably been listening to The Kinks, The Move, The Monkees, and maybe a dash of Harry Nilsson. And The Small Faces. A lot. If Ryan decided to adopt a British accent, I think it'd fit in just fine. 

The song opens with a "Hard Day's Night" kind of hit before the lead in really starts, but there's no complaints here. The guitar tone has a nice vintage crunch on it and while Ryan has a very solid couple of solo measures, Jon's written a nice bass line that stands out enough to be really appreciated - there's a chromatic walkdown in there that you can feel in your chest, it's pretty wicked. The new lead singer avows that "some people never change, they just stay the same way" and I'd be lying if I said I thought this wasn't directed back at his old bandmates sliding into their harder sound as opposed to continuing to trip down the hippie path he helped pave in "Pretty. Odd." The end cries of "Change, change, change" might not have you jumping up and down or pumping your fist, but they'll definitely have you hitting your steering wheel or cafe table for emphasis.

Musically, there's not a whole lot alike about these songs. Both are by musicians I admire, both have quite good production, and both will have you singing along, and that's about the extent of it. Both lyricists are saying they want what's new and times are a-changing, but that'll never be a new idea or a too tired thought. I don't know what the guys are gonna pull out next, but suffice it to say that I'll be investing in both albums. Good work on both ends, teams!

The Pete-Patrick Lyrical Theory of Relativity

Hands down, Patrick Stump has one of the greatest voices this world has ever had the pleasure to experience. On a similar vein, Pete Wentz has one of the most lyrically gifted and clever minds out there (regardless of what some may say - we support you, Mr. Wentz). Or so we think.

If you've ever listened to FOB, you have doubtlessly been struck by the dilemma of figuring out what the mess Mr. Stump is actually singing about. It's not that he doesn't enunciate or that there's too much going on to understand him, it's just that there's occasionally the Ryan Ross problem of eighteen syllable words jammed together in the space meant for four or the fact that his voice just naturally does Great and Wonderful Things that we aren't meant to understand. Even upon looking up some of the lyrics, when trying to match them up to the sounds we can't recreate they don't seem to quite fit. 

This brings us to the "Pete-Patrick Lyrical Theory of Relativity": We know that Mr. Wentz writes a great deal, if not all, of the lyrics we've come to appreciate so much, but are they really what his adorable counterpart are singing? We say, No! This is what really happens - the band goes into the studio, Pete with notebook filled with pieces of lyrics in hand. Patrick then sings the parts that were already created and then when the musical holes come up, he just makes noise. Lots of beautiful noise. Pete then listens and translates what these sounds could possible be. So really, Pete only has to write a little bit, his job is more just to interpret what Patrick's singing.

It's brilliant, team, I don't know why everyone hasn't thought of this. More theories to come later, have no fear. As a side note, I have a pretty ok picture of Pete Wentz that I'll probably post as soon as I stick my name on it somewhere. :)

The Saporta Experience, Part II

So, I love my sister more than anything. If there's a way in my power to make her happy, I pretty much try and do that ... no matter how ridiculous. As you will find.

Setting: Believers Never Die, Part Deux tour

Protagonists: Liz and Katie Curry, Gabe Saporta

Antagonists: yellow caution tape, burly security guard

Kate and I agree that Mr. Saporta is kind of the jam, but as she had recently turned me onto the Cobra happiness, she was a little more of a fan than me at that point in time. Her goal for the night was a picture with G.A.B.E., which I totally supported but was not at all confident would happen.

The show in its entirety was amazing despite the fact that we were probably two of ten people there over the age of fifteen. We were right near the side of the stage and had managed to grab a couple of vacant seats several rows below where our tickets said we should be sitting, in the most legitimate sense. Anyway, we were rocking out to our FOB boys in the last set of the night and I took a break from flailing around to the awesome to idly people-watch for a few seconds. A few rows up from us and right across the aisle sat Mr. Saporta, taking in the show.

I grabbed my sister. Pointed. We freaked out for several minutes amidst crowd noise and strobe lights and all the while I was trying to brainstorm how I could get over there and get Kate the one thing she wanted but never thought would actually happen. Et voila ... my solution for nearly everything: alcohol.

"I'm gonna buy him a shot," I told her, "and ask him if he'll take a picture with you! Quick, what does he drink?"

"Agh!" she said. "I don't know! Tequila?"

"Well, I'll get a shot of tequila and a shot of whiskey and there's no way he can say no to both!" (By this point in time, boys and girls, I'd imbibed a mixed drink and a huge-ass beer myself so I was feeling a little more adventurous than I might have otherwise.) I grabbed the last of my cash and hauled ass up those freaking stairs, praying to whomever watches over Cobra Starship fans that he wouldn't decide to go backstage like a normal rock star before I got back.

So, I snatched up the shots -- seven dollars each, and for the record, Gabe, you are worth it and way more -- and headed back down the stairs and he was still there. I looked over at the tape and sort of motioned to him and at first he shook his head at me 'til I proferred alcohol in his direction. A-ha ... then I got a smile. I stepped over the tape.

"Tequila or whiskey?" I asked him, trying really hard to be audible over FOB but also not to spit in his face. (Which I may have done anyway, and in that case -- sorry, man.)

"Tequila!" he said. Score one for Katie!

"Take a picture with my sister?" I asked and he grinned at me.

"Sure!" he said. Score two for Katie!

Then, yes, I did a shot with Gabe Saporta, which is probably one of the cooler things I've ever initiated. And there was Kate, standing with her camera, ready to go, Mr. Saporta smilin' at her and then ... our goddamned antagonist. Mr. Burly Security Guard, who I tried to argue with for about thirty seconds before I realized it was fruitless and gave up with a shrug.

So -- the ultimate sister moment became the penultimate sister moment. We kicked back, enjoyed the rest of the show, and exited the venue disappointed but nonetheless exhilarated by our Gabe Saporta encounter (and the fact that soon after that, we were both pretty much smushed up against Pete Wentz's crotch -- also rad.)

Anyway, we've got these tickets to see Cobra Starship again in August. I'm putting it out there right now that if we're even in close proximity to Mr. Saporta again, I'm buying three shots of tequila this time and we're all gonna get to have a moment.

Guilty Pleasure...

So, here's the thing:

Gabe Saporta is not now, nor will he ever be one of my guilty pleasures. I would never feel guilty about something or someone who has caused me half so much joy as he and his band of Cobras have. Unfortunately, in a way he is also responsible for a great deal of sorrow.

A couple months ago, Liz and I caught the Believers Never Die, Part Deux tour. Easily one of the greatest nights of my life. Patrick Stump could sing the phonebook and I would fall down in rapture - boy's got pipes. I also got stared down by the incomparable Mr. Wentz while he rocked out. Literally, he was right in my face. Brilliant stuff. But not even this was the highlight of my evening.

For some reason, Cobra Starship only got to play like, four songs. While this could never be enough, it totally gave me my Gabe Saporta fix for life, or so I thought. *An amusing sidenote: Mr. Saporta wandered onto the stage during All Time Low's set and I recognized his from his back with him wearing a hat. He'd hurt his ankle a few days previously and you could totally tell from the way he carried it, but his walk is so wicked distinctive and I would know the shape of him anywhere. I about lost it, just from seeing him stand there. Not even doing anything. Anyways.*

During FOB's set, Liz and I danced it up. How can you listen to that and not thrash around? I've nearly wrecked before to them, you can't NOT dance. Sometime during my flailing, Liz grabs me and spins me around. I look directly to my right and who do I see? Yeah. One of my favorite artists of all freaking time, calmly observing the show - hopefully watching me dance. How could he not have been? I was the only one within a hundred yards over the age of fifteen *besides PrettyLiz* and Mr. Saporta is in no way a creeper. 

Cue minor heart attack. And by minor I mean I about had a seizure. Thankfully this looks remarkably like most of my dancing, so it probably didn't look all that out of place. After a quick conversation with Liz, she's taking the rest of our combined money and running to buy liquor while I'm praying he doesn't leave. On my advice, she comes back armed with a shot of whiskey and shot of tequila (the man's name is Gabe Saporta, he's gonna take the tequila), climbs over the flimsy little tape barring off that section of the stands and is making her way in the dark to my favorite musical badass. 

As she's doing a shot with him, I'm stumbling over. The moment I'm crossing the barrier and he's agreeing to taking a picture with me - security shows up. In no uncertain terms they make me leave while I'm visually communicating with someone I've admired from afar since I was barely a teenager. He seemed terribly apologetic about being dragged off while I merely flashed him a heart and played it off like no big thing while inside I was kinda breaking just a little. And by a little I mean I was very close to tears. All the while, Fall Out Boy is blaring through the arena and when we get back to our seats, the fourteen year olds in front of us are asking if "that was anybody important."

A note - if you have to ask if someone is important, you probably don't need to know who they are. I picked him out by his silhouette from across a dark room - that's important.

Now, I'm not a raving fangirl. I know I can seem like one, but it's not true. When actually faced with the objects of my affection, I'm not going to tackle them or cry or pass out. That would be silly. It's just, if I was an artist of any kind, I'd really love to hear that I had touched someone's life in a positive manner and I'd be more than thrilled to spend twelve seconds with a girl who's supported me in whatever way she can. 

But at least I know that for even just a minute, he knew that I was alive. I realize that this sounds ridiculous and totally little girl, but it's the truth. I know that a man I've made room in my life for - in however small a way - knew that I was there and that I cared. And for some reason this is important to me. No, I didn't have any kind of meaningful conversation with him or he didn't invite me back to the bus for a drink or ask me to dance, but he at least had the grace to look regretful to just one disappointed fan with red hair when he had to leave without letting me have the one thing I went to that show for.

So if you're out there, Gabe Saporta, know that you've been a huge part of my musical life and I don't know what I'd do without your brilliance. You seem like a really amazing and down to earth guy with a wicked sense of humor and some terribly refreshing wit. Some of my greatest memories are just being in the car with any number of my friends and playing your music way too loud for my crappy speakers to handle. I just got three tickets to the small venues tour for the Cobra's Hot Mess album (how I'm going to pay for them, I don't even know yet), so maybe if I'm lucky I'll get my picture there. But if not, I'll keep trying. And even if I do get it, I'll never stop going to their shows. 

So this is my starry-eyed Cobra Starship post. Every member of that band is beyond wonderful and I'd love nothing more than to be able to tell them all in person. Maybe one of these days they'll be asking for a picture with me instead of the other way around. And when that day comes I'm taking all of them out for a drink. But until then, Fangs Up! 

Back!

Okay, loves. Kate and I had to take a short sabbatical from our shameless barrage of random information to basically figure out what we actually want to do with this blog. (Also, we've been moving around. The parents to Augusta, Katie to a friend's house, and me across town.)

So here we are -- Independence Day, the Fourth, that crazy day in July where people are legally granted permission to set off explosives. They grill out, sunbathe by the poolside, and utterly forget the reason for the party because they are way too drunk and fascinated by the sparkly colors in the air. Which is not to say patriotism be damned, patriotism be un-damned, in fact -- it just so happens that the only red, white, and blue Kate and I are sporting today are our PBR bottle cap earrings. They count. Shut up.

So ... here, from now on out, these two sisters will be blogging solely on fashion and music, specifically the very unique mix of those two media we see on our music scene these days. We will try our best to get a new post up every other day. Thanks for being so patient while we worked out all the kinks here.

Andrew Sean Greer on 'Benjamin Button'

Just a little note to tack onto Kate's post today -- I stumbled across a post on andrewgreer.com addressing the issue of the similarity between his novel and Benjamin Button. For us Greer fans who were a bit aghast and upset to see a movie possessing content like 'Button' and no mention of Andrew Sean Greer's name anywhere around or about it, here is what the author himself has to say.

For those of you who just want to read a synopsis of Greer's already short response, he basically says that the film version of Benjamin Button developed completely outside the realm of his novel, just as The Confessions of Max Tivoli developed in Greer's mind without him ever having even heard of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story.

Fitzgerald's 'Button' involves a character born aged of mind as well as body, whereas Greer's character Max ages backward while developmentally following the same path as all of his 'peers'. The movie has no, as Greer puts it, "three-act love story, no epic span". The stories are as different as dawn and twilight.

Also -- happy news! Andrew Greer has indeed written a third book called The Story of a Marriage. I'm going to buy it tomorrow.

Hopefully that will satisfy a little curiosity.

We are each the love of someone's life...

The Confessions of Max Tivoli, written by Andrew Sean Greer is truly a modern masterpiece. Centering around the life of the title character, Max as he grows mentally forward from child to adult but physically backwards. In a saddening turn of events, he knows the exact year that he will finally succumb to a death in infant form and wears a pendant that reads "1941" around his neck as a kind of constant reminder.

The main theme of the book would either be love or alienation, depending on whether you see the glass as half full or not. Max falls in love not once, but three times with the same woman, but he tries (and sometimes fails) to keep his true identity a secret. He has been trained from a young age to be what they think he is, having only one true friend who knows him for what he truly is.

Greer writes a beautiful novel. This being his second, I really need to find his first - The Path of Minor Planets - and give it a go. This is one of those books I just happened to pluck off a shelf while I was on break at Barnes and Noble and had to immediately purchase it. Through some terrible happenstance, it got lost, so naturally I went and bought it a second time. 

The writing is absolutely stunning - it has a rather prosey feel when waxing on the destructive force of love ("It is a brave and stupid thing, a beautiful thing to waste ones life for love") and it reads in a rather turn-of-the-century lit kind of way. If this sounds a lot like the whole Benjamin Button thing, that's what I thought, too... Having not seen that particular film, I can't really make any judgments, but when I saw previews for it I was a bit miffed that it seemed to have exactly the same premise. Perhaps someone can enlighten me before I sit down to watch it?

Regardless, this novel is brilliant. Nothing I could say about it will ever do it justice, so you should probably read it.

The Perils of 3.1415926535897...

Let us for a moment dwell upon the genius of Darren Aronofsky.

Pi is a black-and-white (brilliant as hell) American psychological thriller, released in 1998. Aronofsky brings together mathematical theory and Jewish mysticism in a way that's both sobering and really freaking cool. Check out the trailer.

Sean Gullette plays a very Edward Norton-esque Max Cohen, an eccentric and reclusive mathematician suffering from chronic headaches and social anxiety disorder. Oh, also paranoia, possibly schizophrenia, and serious hallucinations. A radical number theorist, Max believes that if data sets are graphed correctly, patterns will eventually emerge in everything. So he pretty much stays in his apartment with his homemade super-computer (creatively named Euclid) - trying to find predictable patterns in the stock market.

Making a long (and extremely complex) story short, he's convinced by a Hasidic Jew he's met in a coffee shop that finding the 216 letter true name of God is way more important than the stock market. Max starts to obsess, which may or may not drive him crazy.

Then, at the end ... well, watch it. But it involves a drill, and then I'd say a fairly peaceful denouement.

The film cost only $60, 000 to make, and that money came from a number of private investors (read as: friends) who each threw in about $100 bucks. Gross revenue, however: $3, 221, 152. Nice, right?

Great movie. Conspiracy theory. The epic game of Go. A sexy Indian next-door neighbor. The golden spiral, nonlinear dynamics, and and a number with the power to bring about the Messianic Age. Watch it with a glass of whiskey, quick access to Wikipedia, and an open mind.

Oh - and the film's duration? 1:23:45.

A "Dark Forest Walk" with Mr. Michael Page

Liz's internet is out for some strange reason, so it's me again. Today I'm bringing you a wickedly cool artist by the name of Michael Page. I don't pretend to know a whole lot about the art world (ask me about shooting film or digital and we'll talk shop) but his stuff really appeals to me so I'ma spotlight him instead of a photographer I like. 

Mr. Page paints some creepy things. Most of his work showcases some kind of neat monster attacking people or spooky forests or pretty things riding weird things through the sky. The painting of his that I've picked out is entitled "Dark Forest Walk" and I rather enjoy the expressions on the faces of the creepers with the guns by the trees. 

His art is all wonderfully insightful about fun things like how the climate is being destroyed but there's generally a theme of love that runs throughout as well. A lot of his paintings have a young couple that is oblivious to the fact that there's something terrible chasing after them or watching from the trees, but some later pieces have the scaries right out in the - albeit dim - light of day while the lovers clutch each other in rather apparent terror. Frightening, yet beautiful while staying true to actual social commentary.

Take a look around his site, you won't be disappointed. 

This may or may not be a metaphor

Hi, team. You'll have to forgive us for the lack of something interesting yesterday. I was in the car on the way to Augusta and Liz was busy being awesome... maybe we'll post a double feature one of these days and make up for it, yeah?

Ok, so the song of the week is the incomparable "How It Ends" by the indie/folk/gypsy punk/burlesque backing crazies of DeVotchKa. (If you recognize the name from literature, you're a cool and/or creepy nerd since they've taken it from the Nadsat word for "young girl" or you may just speak Russian.) This four piece hails from Denver, Colorado and bangs out their brilliance on everything from sousaphone and double bass to theremin and a bouzouki. (A personal note: the theremin is one of the greatest musical inventions ever, it's the only instrument you play with the Force. Watch one here.) 

You might recognize this particular tune from the rather wonderful film Little Miss Sunshine which they collectively scored - if you haven't seen it, prepare yourself. The song fits so perfectly in context that once you've seen it, you really can't separate the two.

Appearing on the scene in the grand year of 2000, DeVotchKa's kept busy by putting out five albums and an EP and at the moment are galavanting around this here world while their A Mad and Faithful Telling album hit #29 on the Indie Album charts. These kids were also named the best new band from Colorado in 2008 - apparently 3oh!3 couldn't hack it. 

The vocals on this track are stunning. They're sweeping and emotional and absolutely riveting. You have to give it a minute for it to really hit, but when it does, it hits hard. Apparently DeVotchKa runs with the idea that less is more, and with this piece they couldn't be more correct.

I think that's about enough for the day, though. I think everybody needs to hear this song a few times, this band has a lot to offer the world. Hope you like them!

Meanwhile, in other parts of the world...

There are some pretty fun things happening out in the great, wide world today. Today's piece of fun can be found at a fashion show that is, surprisingly, in Salt Lake City. Not to imply that the SLC isn't a super hip place (I've never been, personally) I just wasn't expecting the level of awesome that I found there.

Today, at exactly 8pm - I would suggest arriving earlier to be polite - is the Sylvia Heisel Fusion fashion show featuring the dancers of SLC's Ballet West. Her collection will be on display as well as pieces created by local artists that are centered around pointe shoes. Some of the pieces are decorated shoes while others are mixed media, but all of them are quite different and rather stunning. I personally really enjoyed the stained glass shoes and the pretty metallic jeweled ones. Unfortunately both of these are sold because we all know that I have an extra $3600 just burning a hole in my pocket right now.

On the other side of things Ms. Heisel is quite the lucky and talented lady. She's been designing since basically forever and was kinda discovered by a Bendel's buyer who just so happened to see her in a homemade coat at a club. Maybe this should be my strategy. She likes mixing futuristic elements with vintage and raw silk materials with acid colors. She made a fabulous Kevlar dress in a rather startling yellow that was quite the hit and also designed for a period musical starring Madonna. (As a side note, I get to build garments for a period show in the fall - is anybody else as psyched as I am about this?)

Suffice it to say that I'm at home helping with the moving sale instead of at a fashion show, but hopefully our day will come. And now I must go back to work, yard sale people can get vicious. But updates on the Indiosyncracy clothing line are coming soon!

"The Train, The Train!"

Okay, team. Kate and I are doing some heavy-duty packing at home, so we're gonna use some older pictures of me to start out with the style posting. Sometimes I get bored and dress up all snazzy and then we go take pictures. These lovely photos were taken by our father, the amazing John Curry - photojournalist extraordinaire.

I suppose the point of this is to point out that you can, indeed, be all lovely on a thrifty budget. That is where thrift stores come in handy. The skirt is GAP ($5 at Agora), the hoodie Old Navy ($4 at Goodwill), the boots were a gift (thanks, Mom!), and the tights were like $2. The only thing about the outfit that cost anything substantial were the amazing knit fingerless gloves I am wearing - and wore pretty much all winter - and they cost me a whopping $12.

Next Friday we will start the actual scenester fashion analysis. We may find someone on the street that we think looks particularly rad, or we may snap a candid of something very unfortunate. Who knows?

Philosophy Manifests Itself as A Magical Tollbooth - Didn't You Know?

The first book to get props from the Indiosyncracy girls: The Phantom Tollbooth.

Written by Norton Juster and illustrated by Jules Feiffer, this book tells the story of a young boy named Milo who, bored and apathetic, receives a mysterious package consisting of a toy tollbooth and a map. He hops into a toy car, begins his "game", and realizes quite quickly he's been transported to a land of mystery and information.

Translated into several languages, the book has been widely acknowledged as a rather sophisticated children's story, with a sweeping allegory and metaphor thought to whoosh right over the heads of its target demographic.

I, however, disagree. A child's mind is an open thing, absorbing any and everything it comes into contact with, and it is very often underestimated. Milo's quest for knowledge within the confines of the story is considered to be something very adult - however, the allegory provides an interesting outlet for the theme. I'd like to suggest that this journey toward wisdom is explained in such a colorful and simple manner that it may infiltrate the child reader's thought process, encouraging he or she to not only embrace the idea of attaining wisdom, but perhaps even changing the way the reader perceives the process of learning.

Probably too much exposition, I realize, for our first 'indie' book recommendation. Theme, literary devices, and allegory aside, The Phantom Tollbooth is a pretty amazing read. Kate and I both loved it as kids, and it hasn't lost any appeal to us as adults.

To leave you with one of my favorite exerpts from the book - one of many, I might add, but one that has the potential to speak to everyone:

"You're on the island of Conclusions."

"But how did we get here?" asked Milo.

"You jumped, of course," explained Canby. "That's the way most everyone gets here. It's really quite simple: every time you decide something without having a good reason, you jump to Conclusions whether you like it or not. It's such an easy trip to make that I've been here hundreds of times."

"But this is such an unpleasant looking place," Milo remarked.

"Yes, that's true," admitted Canby; "it does look much better from a distance."

Le film francaise du jour

Morning! Today we have a wonderful little film called "Paris, je t'aime." Broken up into eighteen short films by different directors, almost all of the twenty arrondissments of Paris are represented. The pieces follow, reveal, hide, study, imitate, and reinvent love. I admit, this is one of my favorite films - it's basically wonderful. Some parts are feel good, other parts make you wanna cry, and some bits are just hysterical. Some are in French, some in English, and one is mostly in Korean.

The directors and actors involved are rather star studded. Director wise, we have the Coen's, Gus Van Sant, Christopher Doyle, and Wes Craven just to name a few, while our casts include everyone from Maggie Gyllenhaal (who gets wickedly high) and Elijah Wood (starring in a fantastic pulp vampire sketch) to Nick Nolte, Natalie Portman, Marianne Faithfull, and a magical cowboy Willem Dafoe.

If you don't already own this film, I suggest you at least go out and rent it. The short the film ends with is beautiful enough to prompt tears. So I leave you with this trailer.

Huzzah for Art!

Today we shall talk about art.

Well, we won't talk about it very much, but we will will mention a local Athens artist that we feel deems mention. This artist is Joe Havasy.

If you live in Athens, you know who Joe Havasy is, or you've at least seen his art around. It usually depicts something cute, being eaten or destroyed by something scary. Or something cute eating or destroying something equally cute. Bunnies, puppies, kitties, alligators, very attractive girls... etc.

His art is an acquired taste. It is also amazing. He is the quintessential Athens. Check it out, check him out, buy his pieces - we support "the creative soul" and Joe Havasy is included in that category. We will be, in later posts, encouraging you to do the same thing with other artists. As always, please feel free to make suggestions of your own!

On a musically unrelated note...

This doesn't have much to do with the music theme of Mondays, but I made Liz into a dress form last night and she wanted the pictures posted. Now I can customize clothes for her when she's not even around! Good times. 

Unfortunately, since my dress form was made of a t-shirt, wax paper, plastic wrap, and duct tape, it got rather warm in there. I had to cut it off of her before she fainted, so it's still a work in progress. Hopefully I can get it finished without her having to get back in it - because I don't think she'd be willing.

First Ever Monday Morning Music Club!

Ok, so I lied a little - the music stuff most likely won't be posted in the morning. But it sounded nice, so there you have it.

For the first bit of music sharing with the world we have the incomparable Phantom Planet with their slice of brilliance "Do the Panic." Click that sucka to hear it!

This altern SoCal rock band dished out this PoppyFantastic little dance tune on their album Raise the Dead. Another track that I HIGHLY-HIGHLY-GoListenToItRightNow recommend from that album is "I Don't Mind." That was almost the song of the day, but the sister thought the other was a better representation of what we're trying to do here. (Read: it sounded more upbeat and she liked it.)

Unfortunately, Phantom Planet has been on an indefinite hiatus for a while now. This doesn't mean that they're broken up, but it sure does mean that we don't have any shows of theirs to go see. So if you find any of these kids walking the streets, let them know that they're missed.

I'd love to hear suggestions for next time. Thanks, team!

Hi, Team!

Hello and welcome!

This is our first post, and we are nervous. But since our audience is ... well, us, we can dispense with the hesitance and the pleasantries and get right down to the business of whatever it is we do here. Which is what we will be expounding upon. Hopefully.

Here are our plans: you shall receive a daily dose of indie brilliance that is categorized thusly.

Crazy Music Monday - we will select a song for your listening pleasure -- let us know if you enjoy it, think we suck, or have suggestions for the next week.

Art is Great Tuesday -- we will feature an artist, either local, web-based, or really well-known, depending on our mood and who impresses us. Send us yours, if you would like, or a link to your site or blog. If we like you, you rock!

Film Hooray Wednesday! -- obviously we pick a film, and rate it on a scale of one to ten Hoorays. This is not all we will talk about on Wednesdays, but it will be featured. Because we need a feature, and like movies.

Props to Reading Thursday -- this will be props to some kind of text, whether it be book, screenplay, pamphlet, or propaganda. You should read! It improves the vocabulary, and aids in developing that indie street cred we're all trying so hard to attain!

Look of the (Fri)Day -- we discuss (compliment and/or bash) 'hip' trends, complete with pictures. Some are quite flattering, while others are less than so. You know who you are. This can include clothes, hair, body art, make-up, and accessories.

It's Good to Be Here on Saturday -- fun things are going on in the world. The scenery is pretty, there are great parties, rock stars are everywhere, and good times are had by all. We are located, however, in the Georgia, so we will be pining together this day for things unseen and far from us. (Unless something amazing is happening in Athens, and then we will gloat.)

Hella-Cool Random Sunday -- and then, on the seventh day, we rested. We're gonna post something really neat (like a great brownie recipe, or the history of yoga, or the fact that armadillos can grow up to 5 feet long!) and you will like it. Promise.

Okay, so there you have it. Check back every day for something fun! Hopefully we can keep up with our daily posts. There are two of us, so we got this.

Love,

Elisabeth and Katie