Mid Day Lullaby Hour with Glass Ghost

Since Friday’s video premiere of Glass Ghost‘s “Like A Diamond” over at The Music Slut, it has become the theme song to my uselessness this weekend. Now, press repeat and take a nap with us:

Mark your calendars and be sure to pick up the Glass Ghost debut LP, Idol Omen, from the good folks at Western Vinyl on October 27th. Sadly, there are no New York dates on their upcoming tour with White Rabbits, but you’re in luck dear readers– this Tuesday, Glass Ghost will be playing The Silent League CD Release Party at Union Pool. You want to go to there, I promise.

In Case You Missed It… Lady Gaga is Cher 6.0

At this point we’ve all seen Lady Gaga’s outfits for the VMAs, and we’ve all questioned her gender and outrageous behavior. And like John Norris, I’m a fan of the indie scene and not so much, well, anything you’d probably see on MTV these days, but Lady Gaga is a force and I’d be a liar if I said that I’ve never busted out a “what’s the name of this club?” in a non-ironic way. Here’s Miss Gaga sitting down with Norris on Noisemakers:

Remember, keep a lookout every Thursday for the weekly installments on Noisevox– next week, Deerhunter. Ok, so here it goes… From one New York girl to another… Lady Gaga, I think I love you?

Seasick Mama Presents… Don't Become The Things You Hate

Going on right now, and again tomorrow from 12pm-8pm, in the mobile Stand Alone Gallery in front of Artist and Fleas, the awesome Seasick Mama is presenting a verbal declaration of sorts. Well, using the words of some of our favorite locals, including The L Magazine, Impose, and Peru Ana Ana Peru, and displaying their 6-word stories in large scale canvases by artist Ian McGuillivray, as well as limited edition t-shirts from the Mama herself.
Worth checking out, for sure!

The Daily Footprint 9/18/09

North 5th and Bedford

A Highbrow Ode To Ernie Anastos And F*cking Chickens

We apologize in advance for posting this, because it is the dumbest shit we have ever seen, and therefore hysterical.

Hugs: No "Baggie" Jeans, No Long White Tees

Photo via Ben5000 on Flickr
Hugs. What are you, uh, trying to say here, buddy? I might be going out on a limb but it appears that you have turned your bunker-like bar into an exclusive tree fort that excludes “certain patrons,” as Gothamist puts it.
No fitted hats? No sports attire? No long white t-shirts? No hoodies? No baggie [sic] jeans? No Timberlands? Being “selective”????? Are you serious?! Everyone, please, go to Hugs this weekend wearing all of these things and let us know what happens. Stay tuned to Gothamist in case Hugs answers their phone calls.
update: the sign has been removed, so says an internet commenter.

What to do this wknd?

Quick notice: If you’ve got something going on this weekend, or are looking for something to do, head over to our Facebook page and let everybody know. So far it looks like you can see everyone from Organs to “the greatest all-japanese-girl punk/metal band EVER,” The Hard Nips. This thread is helpful.

Shoe Guy Speaks

From The Guardian

I am not a hero. But I have a point of view. I have a stance. It humiliated me to see my country humiliated; and to see my Baghdad burned, my people killed. Thousands of tragic pictures remained in my head, pushing me towards the path of confrontation. The scandal of Abu Ghraib. The massacre of Falluja, Najaf, Haditha, Sadr City, Basra, Diyala, Mosul, Tal Afar, and every inch of our wounded land. I travelled through my burning land and saw with my own eyes the pain of the victims, and heard with my own ears the screams of the orphans and the bereaved. And a feeling of shame haunted me like an ugly name because I was powerless.
As soon as I finished my professional duties in reporting the daily tragedies, while I washed away the remains of the debris of the ruined Iraqi houses, or the blood that stained my clothes, I would clench my teeth and make a pledge to our victims, a pledge of vengeance.
The opportunity came, and I took it.
I took it out of loyalty to every drop of innocent blood that has been shed through the occupation or because of it, every scream of a bereaved mother, every moan of an orphan, the sorrow of a rape victim, the teardrop of an orphan.
I say to those who reproach me: do you know how many broken homes that shoe which I threw had entered? How many times it had trodden over the blood of innocent victims? Maybe that shoe was the appropriate response when all values were violated.