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The words “stay tuned” mean literally nothing when uttered on this blog, I know, and I’ve been simply awful about delivering on my promises. Self-imposed deadlines provide the least accountability, and it’s only my vaguely OCD desire to finish this up before I can procrastinate on posting other things that is getting this written. So here’s what I can remember.

THURSDAY
Started off the day by traveling near last year’s stomping grounds at Lincoln Center, more specifically Columbus Circle a few blocks down. Destination: Borders for the M.I.A. signing. Had the fifteenth and most expensive yogurt-granola parfait of the weekend; hid the trash behind a Harry Potter display. After 90 tedious minutes of waiting, Maya finally showed up and signed. She was very sweet and chatted with me a bit about the previous night’s show, set times and Cool Kids.

Got some bad news about the stupid, stupid situation with the radio station and took a walk. Waited for another couple hours outside Terminal 5 with a bunch of recursively stereotypical hipster-mocking hipsters. Finally got in and secured a spot on the balcony with a couple very nice girls from the University of Cincinnati radio station.

Terminal 5 is a cavernous place that had seen its grand re-opening from its former life as a dance club (I think?) just a week or two prior, and you could tell - paint smell, only Budweiser on tap, and the most immaculate bathrooms in all of New York City. I actually want to go back there just to poop. (REAL TALK.)

DJ Blaqstarr opened with some actually pretty rote and repetitive Bmore stuff, although it took on new life whenever little sister Rye Rye came out and basically acted her 17-year-old batshit crazy self, dancing like a demon posessed and rapping like someone half her age. An anonymous annoying hypeman (who we later found out was Afrikan Boy) yelled “DEE JAY BLAQ STARR” over and over for roughly two hours.

Next were Cool Kids, who we’d seen the night before at the Modular party at Studio B. (I don’t think I wrote about that - reasonably priced drinks, Muscles and New Young Pony Club, and an extraordinarily comfortable couch. Too comfortable.) They rapped about bikes and Chicago and the 1980s, which Becky found more endearing than I did, but only a little.

Finally M.I.A. did her thing. It was a lot like her set at Lollapalooza a few months back, in that it was loud, exciting, punctuated by long pauses, and frequently in danger of collapsing into a total trainwreck. One minute you’re freaking out to “Bird Flu” and everyone’s rushing the stage per usual; the next minute you’re deeply doubting her ability to successfully catch the beat and go 2 minutes without verbally abusing DJ Lowbudget (who has probably the worst job in the world - you have to suffer abuse from your best friend’s ex [Diplo] while he’s off having an extremely successful career on his own.)

SATURDAY
Saturday was a long walk through Central Park that somehow ended in Trump Tower, from Strawberry Fields to a gold-plated Starbucks. I love New York, except when I walk in the wrong direction, which ended up being most of Saturday.

Then, back to Terminal 5 for what was indisputably the best show of the week and maybe the best show of the year, bar one. I abandoned Becky for front and center on the floor, with only a fat Asian kid between me and the cross…

But first, a number of remarkable opening acts! Busy P did a short-and-sweet DJ set, then Midnight Juggernauts played for not nearly long enough. By this time, the crowd was, um, crowded enough to the point where things got a little pushy-shovy and tense.

Then this happened:

I’ve never been closer to anyone in my life as I have the people around me that night. I’ve never felt the kind of total euphoria and full-scale freaking out and sheer intensity as being stuck in the middle of that throbbing mass in worshipful rapture to the two dudes turning knobs and pressing buttons above the glowing cross.

It was magical - from the piano solo in D.A.N.C.E. to the “Master of Puppets” finale, to the Klaxons klaxon that portends the imminent arrival of “We Are Your Friends”, to the girl who asked me to put her arm around her (well, because I’d been elbowing her in the face prior) and her boyfriend’s subsequent forcible placing of my arm around him, to completely losing control of my legs and letting the crowd prop me up while I pumped my fist like a paraplegic revolutionary.

It didn’t stop even after the music ended. The “We! Are! Your friends!” chant lasted long out into the cold air outside and started up again when some dude in an Eclipse drove by blasting the song.

Even though the trip ended up being a colossal waste of time and money, looking back, it was still worth it for that one night. I often complain (to myself, anyway) how hard it is to find someone stoked on the same music I am, to have a shared experience over the same sounds that I listen to and love every day. That night, I knew I wasn’t alone, and that more than anything keeps me wanting to go back for more.

Of course, two months, several major life incidents and a lot of money later, I’m stuck in Arizona for the winter. It’s going to be up to me to try and connect with the masses over criminally obscure dance music, so I’m going to have to start posting again. This only benefits you, my beloved readers, as the oncoming flood of MP3s is going to be sweet.

Until then, stay tuned…

So as I exchanged cards with a really pretty girl on the subway last night, I realized the site on the card - this site - hadn’t been updated in, well, forever.

This is even more unacceptable than usual because Becky and I are in New York all this week for the CMJ Music Marathon, and I have not blogged about it one bit.

So let’s change that.

TUESDAY
Took the red-eye from Phoenix to JFK. Took the looooong subway trip to our hotel. Ate the best sandwich ever here. Picked up our badges, wandered around like zombies until check-in time and then napped hard.

After the restorative interlude we set off to the Brooklyn Vegan showcase at the Bowery Ballroom. Official first band of the trip was The Most Serene Republic. Absurdly talented kids playing charming indie lite-rock while avoiding being too “twee”, they were quite pleasant. And the singer looks like me. Or I’d like to think so. Their Stars remix is really good; I would link to it were I not half-naked and wholly lazy.

Next up was Dean & Britta, who are the Raveonettes after a triple dose of Benadryl. Generally boring. They closed with a really sweet but very slow New Order cover.

WEDNESDAY
SLEPT IN. Awesome. Saw Thurston Moore at the Apple Store, which Becky appreciated far more than I did, I’m sure, but I enjoyed all the same. Made it down to Brooklyn, fucked around at a couple record stores and a restaurant, had the best falafel ever (okay, it was my first) and found a really nice little park by the water.

Cadence Weapon led off the After the Jump showcase at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Becky and I were literally the only two people in the venue until well after Cadence was supposed to start. Dude made it up to the dozen-ish people in the audience though - the man is an unstoppable force. About half of the tracks I didn’t recognize, and they were easily better than anything on Breaking Kayfabe, which is a fucking great record. Best set of the festival so far.

Afterwards, got lost. Didn’t make it into the Dan Deacon et al. showcase at Bowery, but at that point we didn’t care. Bed.

THURSDAY
Failed to find WiFi at Kimmel Center just like everyone else. Sat through half of a boring panel on “Lit Rock” (no, not the Decemberists, just books about rock music) and then handily won the “Speling Bee” by correctly spelling The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players and Queensryche. I’m that good.

Ended up front and center at Q-Tip’s set at the Apple Store. Becky was anointed the Bonita Applebum by the man himself, I pretended to know the words to “Award Tour” while dude next to me pulled a Lupe Fiasco when confronted with the mic. I’m not sure I’ve ever been less than six inches away from a performer before, and while Q-Tip is certainly getting old, he hasn’t gotten any less fucking rad.

After that, bought new clothes at Uniqlo, somehow found Magnolia Bakery and had some cupcakes and lemonade, sat in a park, went to the hotel, typed a blog in my gym shorts, then hit “Publish.”

Pictures and more cogent writing will come. Stay tuned.

Listen, I love Kelly Clarkson. No amount of shame or making-fun or ridiculous insinuations will ever diminish my genuine-hearted love for Kelly Clarkson.

I also love that she’s managed to reschedule her tour, is already working on another record so that we can forget My December ever happened, and is (at least nominally) playing on campus.

But even I don’t love Kelly Clarkson this much:

Remember how the last tour was canceled because of low ticket sales? I smell a repeat performance.

Click here to watch the new Dylan video.

All shows are in the Phoenix metro area unless otherwise noted. Let me know if you’re going, because I want to see you there. And let me know if I’ve missed something you think we’d both enjoy.

SEPTEMBER
9/6 Peachcake, Alcoholiday (Modified)
9/7 Rodrigo y Gabriela (Marquee)
9/10 Kings of Leon (Marquee)
9/14 Awake & Alert, Dear and the Headlights (Women’s Club of Mesa)
9/18 VHS or Beta (Rhythm Room)
9/19 Pinback (Marquee)
9/20 Muse (Mesa Amphitheatre)
9/21 Arctic Monkeys (Marquee)
9/28 !!!, The Field (Brickhouse)

OCTOBER
10/1 Metric, Crystal Castles (Martini Ranch)
10/2 Bonde do Role (Plush) (Tucson, AZ)
10/9 The Shins (Mesa Amphitheatre)
10/10 Rilo Kiley (Marquee)
10/30 Cadence Weapon (Modified)

NOVEMBER
11/9 The Hold Steady, Art Brut (Marquee)
11/14 Hellogoodbye, Polysics (Marquee)

I’ve seen Daft Punk twice, been to LA, Chicago and half the Midwest, seen a thousand bands, taken a thousand pictures…

…and written zero entries. (When I said “regular posting schedule begins Monday,” I really meant “get lazy and sleep through most of the summer, beginning Monday.”)

But that will all change soon. Stay tuned for pictures, recaps and a pretty comprehensive list of shows you and I need to see this fall. Together.

The schedule for Lollapalooza is up, and I have to say, there aren’t too many heartrending band conflicts like the kind Coachella practically specializes in. Check my custom schedule and post your own in the comments.

Tonight: Sage Francis & Buck 65 at the Clubhouse!

EDIT: Oops, linked my girlfriend’s schedule instead of my own. Fixed the link.

I have it on good authority from my idols at Turntable Lab that they’ll be offering the limited-edition import version of † for sale starting today, bundled with either a T-shirt, Ed Banger mixtape or a 12″ white-label of “D.A.N.C.E”. You can’t lose. Check their store out here.

MP3: “D.A.N.C.E”, Justice
MP3: “Waters of Nazareth”, Justice

In related legendary-French-electronic-duo news, a full-track radio rip of Kanye West’s “Stronger” - yes, the one that samples Daft Punk - is up on ZShare. Get it before it can no longer be gotten, and pray it comes out in high-quality on Oink iTunes Plus or something soon, as I do every day.

The Hold Steady w/ Illinois, Blitzen Trapper
The Brickhouse (Phoenix, AZ)
June 2, 2007

The Hold Steady are a glorious cross between the Streets and Springsteen, welding tales of boozing Twin Cities lowlifes to punchy sing-along blues-rock anthems. Dynamic (and short!) frontman Craig Finn is like Art Brut’s Eddie Argos with half the irony and twice the spirit. “I’ve never seen a band have more fun playing their music,” one concertgoer said.

There’s really not much to say about The Hold Steady’s live show that can’t be gathered from their records, especially last year’s standout Boys And Girls In America: they’re happy drunkards who enjoy having a good time playing music. They even dressed in workshirts and faded jeans that approximated the working-class uniform of Finn’s characters. Except for the keyboard player, who looked like if Mario had met his best friend Carlos D in the Hitler Youth.

Anyway, the downside of going to see a band that glamorizes boorish Midwesterners is that its fans apparently tend to mimic that sort of behavior at their concerts. Becky and I were both pretty tired, and there was a definite surplus of sweaty old dudes, so things could have been better. But we still enjoyed ourselves.

Traffic and laziness prevented us from catching all but the last two songs of Blitzen Trapper’s set. They seemed pleasant enough, and Becky’s a fan, so they get my tentative seal of approval.

Illinois, however, was abominably bad. If you strung together a half-dozen burnout hicks like the kind I went to junior high with, gave them instruments and asked them to sound as generic as possible, that’s Illinois (who, of course, are from Pennsylvania.) Entire songs revolved around hackneyed tropes like “If You Love Something, Let It Go.” There’s a phrase in my notes naming them “Appalachian Telephone Gimmick”, as the lead singer screamed into a handset every now and then for some lo-fi vocal effects.

The last 90 seconds of their set wasn’t bad, actually, and not just because it was, you know, the end. It hinted that the band may actually know how to play their instruments, and incorporated some synth (!) and reverby guitar that was more middling post-rock than terrible country-rock. Why the Hold Steady has hitched their wagon to Illinois’ is beyond my comprehension, but there’s more potential than immediately obvious if you look past the whiny jerk with the banjo.

Next: What Laura Says Thinks and Feels on Tuesday at Hollywood Alley!

Also, I’m on the air with Sugar Rush and the Comedown tonight at 8 PM Pacific, and my regular posting schedule - including MP3s, essays, a lot more stuff involving lots of words, and more MP3s - begins Monday. Stay tuned!