The Party Blog

Videos: Bootie Munich Video Set, July 10, 2009

2009-08-09T06:15:00.001-07:00

Videos of videos of videos!

Thanks to FM24 for these. Sound problems, computer problems, and the inherent restrictions of a video set meant it generally wasn't my proudest DJ moment, let's say there were some mixing flubs and stuff, but still, you can get the idea.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

European Tour Complete; Despite Predictions, Party Ben Survives

2009-08-09T05:30:00.000-07:00

Not a lot of time here on Sunday afternoon in Paris to do a full update, especially considering the long stories that I could tell, but the Party Ben European Stimulus Tour 2009 concluded last night at La Lucha Libre here in Paris, on a wildly enjoyable note. Lucha Libre is a tiny little place with a basement, Paris-style, stone-vaulted-ceiling dance floor, and even with the crowd of about 100 or so, felt jam packed. It was also about 200 degrees down there, and by about an hour into my set, the button-up shirt I hadn't planned on wearing while DJing but had forgotten to change out of was completely soaked, and looked really disgusting. So, for I believe the second time on this tour, the shirt was removed, much to the (sarcastic?) approval of the crowd. I even threw it out to the audience. Gross, I know. But after the set, some guy presented it to me, nicely folded. France!

Many many thanks to Marco aka DJ Comar for arranging the party, and to the other DJs, PhatBastard, Gaston, and Gattino, plus all the awesome people who came out.

Amusingly, I guess someone linked to my earlier blog post about my "I can't seem to get a good French meal whenever I'm in France" curse over on the bootlegsfr.com forums, so that's all anybody talked to me about. Someone would come up to me, and say hello, I really enjoyed your set, and I hear you have trouble getting good food in France? I hope you get to eat something nice." Again, I want to make clear that the food at Lucha Libre is great, it's just, you know, the same as I can get at any taqueria or, better yet, taco truck, in SF, so that's what the point was there.

Friday night of course I played with DJ Moule and Loo & Placido at the Festibaloche in Olargues, which turned out to be a tiny, minscule, medieval village in the semi-mountainous area of , and getting there required a 4-hour train from Barcelona (again, more on that trauma later), and then a 2-hour car ride from Montpellier up winding roads to the little village. Organizers had set up a stage in the village square in the center of town, a completely incongruous stack of speakers and lights amidst the 1000-year-old stone houses. I was added to the lineup late, since they didn't know I was in Europe, and they'd already booked Moule and L&P, so I did the "warmup" set, and while it was pretty much stand-around-and-drink time, 9:30-11 or so, it was still a lot of fun. Afterwards, despite my exhaustion, the organizers demanded I stay for their little afterparty, where some of the local DJs were playing amazing old vinyl on a couple record players, and of course knew all about the new cumbia scene and my friend Disco Shawn's label Bersa Discos. That guy is famous. Anyway, much love to all the Festibaloche guys, especially Romain for organizing it all and to my namesake Benjamin, who drove me to and from Montpellier, and despite insane beachgoing traffic on Saturday morning (and my nervous nail-biting freakouts) managed to get me to the airport in plenty of time. And was also a hilarious and sweet guy, although he did practically force me to drink about 10 beers more than I wanted to.

They also drank this thing down there called "Marquis Zed" which from what I could tell appeared to be some sort of combination of rose wine and a light fruity juice or some sort of lemonade. Delicious, and totally hangover central.

Again, apologies for the minimalist post without pictures -- the internet connection here at the Hotel Republique in Paris is glacially slow and I don't want to spend my last day here watching my Flickr uploader crawl along. Tomorrow, train to Frankfurt, then Tuesday, my marathon 4-flight insanity begins: Frankfurt-Toronto, Toronto-La Guardia, La Guardia-Washington D.C., Washington D.c. - San Francisco. If you have to ask, it has to do with the fact that I had a DJ gig in NYC on the way to Europe and it just wasn't possible to do a straightforward 3-leg trip for less than like $4000. Buying the SFO-NYC and NYC-Frankfurt legs separately, and allowing them to have a stop, made the whole combo cost about $680. Although after the 3rd stopover I may start to feel that my sanity would have been worth the extra 3 grand. We'll see.

Stay tuned for the Barcelona train story, you don't want to miss it, as well as my "winners and losers" of the tour, and the by-the-numbers breakdown of fascinating tour statistics. Now can anybody remind me where my apartment is?

Blogging Takes Time... Time That Could Be Spent Drinking Caipirinhas on Beaches

2009-08-03T14:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, I know the whole point of this little leaf on my tiny twig area of the Internet Tree is to keep a sort of running commentary on the behind-the-scenes action on my little jaunt across Europe, and so to whomever might still be paying attention, I apologize for the lack of updates. Let's have a quick rundown of the last couple weeks:

Two ridiculous if ultimately enjoyable DJ gigs in Portugal: the first in a hilarious mega-club basically in the middle of nowhere, near a kind of beachy community in the region of Torres Vedras, about an hour's drive north of Lisbon; and the second in a totally beachy resort sort of city about two hours drive south of Lisbon, Vila Nova de Milfontes, at a small but ultimately packed little bar. At the first, I was sandwiched between some big-room-house/trance type DJs and had to adjust my set appropriately although I did throw in the Buraka Som Sistema of course, and at the second, I ran with the bar's odd Middle Eastern theme (they had hookas!) and played some of my bootleg bhangra mixes. They were both a lot of travel and work (the hotels for both gigs were 45-minute drives away from the venues) and not in places where anybody would have ever heard of me, but people seemed to enjoy what I did.

The first major disappointment of the tour, a cancelled event at a beach club just south of Lisbon. The promoter arranging my gigs in Portugal turned out to be a real slimebucket, or at least completely incompetent, and only informed me of the cancellation after I went to the club's website the day before and noticed there was another event listed. Darrr. Who did that comedy bit about "I didn't lose my wife, it's just that when I go there, there's somebody else doing her"? Anyway, like that. A bit of a bummer but if I'm honest with myself (and who wants to do that?) this dude was super vague and shifty the entire time I was dealing with him (from when he contacted me, I'd like to point out, promising piles of gigs, back in February) and so in reality I was kind of pinching my nose and hoping for the best in Portugal, and I guess two out of three gigs isn't so bad, from that Lowered Expectations place.

Much beach-bumming and caipirinha drinking in Lisbon, a city that I found a little dull and oddly conservative, although I grew to love it by the last day. The beaches south of the city are amazing, although to get there, you have to take the subway to get to a special bus that crosses their 25 de Abril bridge (eerily similar to the Golden Gate) that then heads out to the beach area, and then if you want to get away from the crowds you have to take a little mini-train (see pictures here) that putters down through the dunes. It's a bit of a haul, and the water is muy frio. Or I should say "muito frio." The main nightlife in Lisbon itself is centered around the Bairro Alto, a gritty zone of tiny alleys filled with postage-stamp size bars selling 3-euro caipirinhas and 1.50 beers. It has its charms, especially on warm nights, but when the little streets fill to capacity with sloshed European tourists, it starts to feel a bit like a tropical Amsterdam, another city where northern Eurobros go to "let off steam." The food is okay but rather simple: lots of pork cutlets and fries, grilled seafood and fries, plus fries. Great, cheap wines though. Plus with Spain just around the bend, it's hard not to feel like you're missing out—Portugal is by nature more conservative, and it really shows in Lisbon, where a lot of the gay bars have doorbells. Obviously my experience is colored by having the cancelled gig, but even so, I'm not sure I'd recommend Lisbon as a vacation destination, unless you're like 22 and getting trashed with your European pals for cheap sounds like a great way to spend your time.

Arrival in Barcelona, where I've always wanted to go, and a stop here happened to be the cheapest and simplest way to get to Montpellier, in the south of France, the nearest big city to the small festival I'm playing on Friday. So, I get a couple days to hang around Barcelona, which has been good so far, although I think I came at a rough time: most of Europe takes a vacation in August (damn socialism!) and that means that a) lots of Spaniards have left town, and b) lots of tourists have arrived. The town is positively swarming with crowds of tourists, in numbers I've rarely seen in my life. I was a big fan of Gaudi as a kid, not so much now but I'm still committed to seeing the highlights, so my first stop was Parc Guell, and it was almost impossible to move, with mobs of tourists clamoring for the best views. Then the Pedrera house had an hour-long line to get in, and Las Ramblas, the main drag in the center of town, was wall-to-wall people. So I learned my lesson and today tried to hit out-of-the-way stuff in the day and big stuff at off-hours: funicular (funicular!) up to Parc Juic (or as Donald, my friend who used to live here, calls it, "Park Juicy") to see the views, and then a quick trip to see the Sagrada Familia at dusk, which I managed to catch just as they were turning all the lights on (photos coming soon). It's really quite spectacular, although still a huge construction site of course. The models and drawings are basically dumbfounding—it's such a dramatic, fantastic piece of construction already, the idea that the eight massive towers now standing will be dwarfed by the central tower is just impossible to imagine. But that will be a real party when they finish it—let's hope I'm around to see it.

Okay, hope that's kept you up to date... uh, Mom... and whoever else has the patience to sit around waiting for me to blabber about What I Did On My Neat Trip. Tomorrow I switch to another hotel nearer the beach and will be ignoring the internet entirely. Can't wait for the gigs in France—Friday's is with my buddies Moule and Loo & Placido, and Saturday's in Paris with Comar and the gang, both should be small but a blast. Then—wha?—home! I've almost forgotten what my apartment looks like…

Lisbon: Custard & Clouds

2009-07-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Lisbon where I arrived last night, just in time for a spitty gray fog to roll in. Whether it's a little bit of San Francisco summer coming over to make me feel at home (sigh) or it stuck to me in the Undisclosed Location I just visited I'm not sure, but it's actually not so bad, although I hope the famous Portuguese sun comes out soon. Speaking of that Undisclosed Location, I'm sure the 7 or 8 family and friends who read this blog probably already know where I was, and I suppose it looks pretty pretentious to keep it a secret, but let me explain: first of all, there are a lot of "acquaintances" in this place that I should probably have looked up but didn't really have time (or energy) for; secondly, it was a bit embarrassing not to get a booking there, and there are a variety of people around my Facebook fan page that might raise a ruckus if they knew I'd been hanging around, and a certain media figure who would probably have wanted to speak to me, but again, I was a little embarrassed to do so without anything real to talk about. So, it was a secret visit, but a fun one, and thanks to those who helped make it a wild weekend--you know who you are, or maybe you don't, because it's so secret!

But anyway, here I am in Portugal, which isn't a secret at all. I have gigs in the area of Lisbon Friday and Saturday nights, and then another gig at a beach club the next Friday, so I get a few days of R&R here, which I'm incredibly excited about. Of course, my Portuguese is nonexistent, and my Spanish is like taqueria-level (para llevar, por favor!) so I'm a bit at sea, but everybody I've dealt with so far is either happy to let me muddle through in pseudo-Spanish or speaks English just fine. The city is uniquely beautiful, and reminds me a lot of Puebla, Mexico, where I DJed last year: the center of town was mostly destroyed in the 1755 earthquake and was rebuilt on a strict grid, just like Puebla; but the tiny, winding lanes immediately snake up the seven hills the rest of the city is built on. First on the agenda today was—what else?—the funicular!

Actually this is one of I think three funiculars, all slightly more useful than your typical funicular that just climbs up a few hundred feet. The one I took actually rises from the main drag, Avenida de Liberdad, to a hip nightlife area, the Barrio Alto, although it was still chock full of tourists, as well as some guy who got in an endless shouting match with the driver and three policemen halfway up, bringing everything to an amusing stop that I utilized to take pictures.
The cars have cockpits at both ends (since they can't exactly turn around) so riders are free to stand in the rear one, and to step, accidentally at first, on the little silver button (see at left) in the floor that rings the bell. (I tried not to do it too much after my accidental discovery, since I imagine the driver was in a bad mood after the big argument about who knows what, but there was no way I could resist a few dings).

Barrio Alto at around 3pm seems pretty deserted, but apparently its tiny streets fill with revelers later in the evening, so I'll have to check that out. In the light of day, it's charming and strange, its ancient buildings scrawled with graffiti and signs for the tiny late night bars.

The transit system is a bit complicated, especially to get to the hotel I'm staying at (for now) out in Belem, a neighborhood that's a bit of a ways down the river and accessible only by a suburban train whose ticket cards look exactly the same as the metro cards but are, of course, incompatible, which one discovers when swiping the incorrect one and getting a red light and warning bell immediately identifying one as a doltish tourist. Thankfully there are some good reasons to be here, like a beautiful old monastery, the presidential palace complete with fancy-dress guards, and perhaps most importantly a famous pastry shop, Pasteis de Belem, whose custard tarts are made from a secret recipe known only to three chefs. I do like the custard, as desserts go, and this little dollop, cradled in a flaky pastry shell and dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon, was worth the line of tourists and complicated Russian style pay-at-one-counter-get-'em-at-the-other system, as well as the 80 euro cents it cost (about $1.15).

As far as my gigs go, while I usually try and do some mashuppery/remixery of local tunes, I'm a bit overwhelmed by the breadth of Portuguese (and Brazilian) music, from the groovy baile funk of Rio to the banging local dance music kuduro and of course the traditional, mournful fado. So I'm not exactly sure where to start. Conveniently, my faves Buraka Som Sistema are mega-huge here (headlining a festival next weekend whose top-billed artist the day before is Faith No More), so I can at least drop them into my sets if people get confused. We'll see how it goes.

Paris, Briefly

2009-07-17T14:45:00.001-07:00

Above: Paris, Thursday July 16, 5:45am

While I was technically in (or, more accurately, under) Paris for about two hours on Monday as I transferred from Charles de Gaulle airport to the Montparnasse train station, I got a good dose of summer Parisian fun times on Wednesday night as I met up with DJ Comar and Grandpamini at La Lucha Libre, the crazy little Mexican wrestling-themed bar in the 5th arrondisement where we'll have our little August 8 shindig. Now, this place is super cool, but I was totally starving, and when my 17EUR ($24) appetizer platter featuring some chips and guac, fried cheese-stuffed jalapenos, and onion rings (?) arrived, along with my martini-sized margarita, I was a little sad. Nothing against Lucha Libre's snacks, which were fine, but seriously, a San Franciscan gets the best Mexican food possible from trucks on streetcorners at any time, so there's no possible way a Left Bank bar can compete. I was just reminded of one of my many curses: I have a lot of trouble geting good food in France (delicious seafood below notwithstanding). I've been to France now three times in the last 4 or so years, and if you know me, you know I like to eat, and eat well. Moreover, I'm a huge fan of French cuisine in general, and the ideal 3-hour multi-course dinner with big bottles of robust Bordeaux, finishing off with some stinky cheeses, is the stuff of dreams for me. But every time I'm in France, I'm always in such a hurry I never get the chance to live my fantasy: in 2005, I mostly ate les pommes frites from whatever kebab shop was on the way, as me and DJ Zebra were on the run from radio stations to club gigs at all hours. Those fries were, admittedly, delicious, but still. Then in 2007, as part of the tour with Moule and Zebra, I actually visited Bordeaux and Toulouse, in France's southern half, which is known for its exceptionally tasty food. But our schedule was so jammed we just had to eat whatever was backstage, as we'd generally arrive in town, drop stuff off at the hotel, then rush to the venue. The dreary, grayish-brown stew I got served backstage in Bordeaux was a definite low point.

I had forgotten all about this as I cabbed over the Pont Neuf bridge to meet up with the guys, but it all came rushing back to me as I forlornly chewed my onion rings. Comar, bless him, promises at least one good French meal when I return to Paris August 8, but we'll see; I bet a meteor hits the kitchen or something just as they're finishing up my Steak Frites.

No matter, though, because Lucha Libre (above) could not be more crazy and fun, with tons of Mexican wrestling memorabilia strewn about; they also gave me a frozen margarita on the house which was both larger and more delicious. The downstairs dance area is a miniscule cave with arched ceilings, in that only-in-Paris way, but the night we were there, notable Buenos Aires producer and DJ El Hijo de Cumbia was spinning, weirdly enough, a guy my buddy Disco Shawn clued me into when he was living in B.A., back when his currently-super-successful nightclub and record label were just glimmers in his and Oro11's eyes. While the attendees downstairs at Lucha Libre numbered, perhaps, in the teens, we danced around to the shimmying beats in the Paris summer heat, and I felt a weird and wonderful sense of international cultural convergence, or just wacky coincidence.

Since I had to catch an 8:00am flight back at good old Charles de Gaulle (perhaps my 2nd least favorite airport, after Heathrow, just ahead of Dulles), I had really made a valiant effort not to drink too much, but people kept giving me margaritas, and what's a guy to do. So as we tottered back to Marco's tiny St. Germain apartment, I spotted a crepe stand and, much to Marco's chagrin, I decided to get my breakfast early: a delicious Crepe Complete, that's with egg, cheese and ham. Plus about 17 pounds of butter. Take that, can't-get-no-good-food-in-Paris curse.

Something's Fishy in La Rochelle

2009-07-14T11:03:00.000-07:00

Wonk, wonk. Cause look at them sea critters I done ate! More on that later, but first, greetings from La Rochelle on France's west coast where I'm enjoying Bastille Day amongst the throngs of French tourists and attendees at the Festival Francofolies, a French music-focused festival where I played, somewhat inexplicably, last night. I was recommended to the festival by Parisian DJ Zebra who has helped create a real interest in mashup/remix culture in France and at this festival specifically, so they booked me, but at first I didn't really understand how French-centric it is: it turns out I'm either the first or second American to play the festival, ever, in its like 17-year history. So I was a little nervous about my gig at the smallish "Club Cosy" and created 6 or 7 new mashups and mixes using French music, and had a whole set planned using other local heroes like your Daft Punk etc. The other DJs playing with me got in touch and asked whether I wanted 12:30am-2:30am or 2:30am-4:30am, and I took the early set, thinking my somewhat mainstream tunes might be better to open the night with. Unfortunately another thing I didn't understand was that they were closing the venue after the 10:30 band, emptying it out, and then re-opening, right at 12:30, so even best case scenario my first, like, 4 or 5 songs would kind of be throwaways, to an empty room. That was about right, and I had a frustrating 30 minutes of trying to please the people walking in the door but not play any of my hits or new creations. Thankfully it was pretty packed at about 1:00 or 1:15 and I got to do a compressed version of the set I'd planned, at least.

Those mashups, by the way, along with most or maybe all of the other items I've made on this tour, I'll be posting to my website as a package-album-deal sort of thing, when I get back – a lot of it will be pretty silly stuff but a couple things turned out pretty good, I thought, like a new track matching Frenchman Katerine with Darude that made people go nuts last night. I forgot to take pictures but there were a bunch of cameras (and a TV camera taking footage for the festival to show on the big screen at the main stage tonight) so hopefully we can track those down.

Probably the most awesome thing that happened last night was that after my set, one of the festival coordinators brought me a form and asked me to fill it out. My French is very rough, but a lot of the festival employees' English was worse, so when I didn't understand the form it took a while to figure out what it was: it was a music-rights form on which I was supposed to list every song I played. Darrrrr? Can you say "c'est impossible"? "Uh, I played 10 seconds of the guitar from that song, but backwards, and 3 words from the acapella of 'Pump Up the Jam,' looped for 25 seconds…" I balked at that but they seemed to forgive me, or at least give up on trying to explain to the bumbling American what needed to be done.

Actually the most awesome part of last night was the meal I had "backstage," actually on the deck of the building where the event was taking place, a few hours before the gig around soundcheck time. Check it out to the right. On my rider from now on: a good Bordeaux and a view of the Atlantic.

Today is of course Bastille Day, and I got to enjoy a little French touristy fun times around town with the aforementioned DJ Zebra and his wife Alexandre, and as you can see above, the local specialty is seafood. Let's take a closer look at "La Plate du Capitaine" or whatever it was called:

Let's see. Clockwise, we can find mussels, some sort of chewy clam item, giganto prawns, normal sized shrimp, and the prawns are kind of balanced over a mega-huge crab claw that practically exploded when I cracked it open. Then we've got mini-mussels of some sort, the ubiquitous snails, and then teeny tiny little brown mini-shrimp that were impossible to peel so I just started popping them in my mouth like salty little sea insects that they basically are. All this, fresh from the sea, for only 26EUR (about $36). Anybody remember that Simpsons episode where Homer wants to start a new life "under the sea," and they cut to him swimming about in a Little Mermaid takeoff, gleefully ingesting all the dancing fishes? It was kind of like that.

The music festival continues today with one of my favorites, Birdy Nam Nam, a French group whose charming first album focused on wobbly sounds executed mostly on turntables, and which I used extensively in imaging production for LIVE 105. However, their new direction aims more for the arena-techno of Justice, for better or for worse, but they do have a rep for a great live "show" complete with expensive video and light show a la Daft Punk. The festival graciously gave me an artist pass for today as well so I get to chill in the VIP when they go on later tonight. Since the main stage is right in the center of the city, we went over for a few minutes early this evening where I checked out Sefyu, an up-and-coming French rapper whose aggressive style and glacial rhythms could probably be classified as "gangsta," but his live show was surprisingly sprightly, with two backup guys chasing Sefyu around the stage in and executing cheeky, carefully choreographed tandem dance moves.

The biggest break of my Euro Stim Tour starts for me now, with no gigs til (dun dun, dun dunnn) Portugal! Which will be next week. So for now, a bit of R&R here in France, a quick trip back to Germany, and a brief foray to an undisclosed location…

Budapest Photo Highlights

2009-07-12T08:21:00.001-07:00

Courtyard of apartment building where I stayed

Not an eagle, but a mythical turul, the bird that apparently, according to Wikitravel, appeared in a dream to the wife of the Magyar leader Ügyek and told her that she would be the founding mother of a new nation.

Budapest - City from top of Castle Hill Funicular

Budapest - Keleti Train Station, 6:30am

Hungary Wrap-Up / Munich Fun Times

2009-07-11T17:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, where do we start. Apologies to the 3 or 4 people checking up on me here (in addition to my random updates on Twitter, Flickr and Facebook) but my lack of internet service at the apartment I was staying at in Budapest, and the more pressing need to try and track down a new laptop battery (darrr!) meant I just didn't get around to blogging the few times I stumbled into an internet cafe. But here I am safely ensconced at the WiFi-laden household of Frank and Alex in Munich, and look at me go.

First up, mega-props to Pozsi, the DJ who spun with me at the VOLT festival and who has been a longtime resident at Zold Pardon, the big outdoor club/live venue on the Buda side of the Danube in Budapest, and who helped arrange that gig. In addition to being a DJ, he's also a partner in a budding vacation-apartment-rental business, and has been renovating these four little apartments in an amazing building in a great spot in Budapest, and generously allowed me to stay in one of the almost-finished ones, although the TV, internet and hot water hadn't yet been hooked up/turned on, so I did go a little stir crazy the few times I was actually just chilling in the pad. But once the things are done they'll be super fantastic so I have to give linky props:

Design-Apartment - Super Awesome Rentals in Budapest

Anyway, big thanks to Pozsi for that; and also to Simon Iddol of course who helped set up the gigs and pimped me out via his web site, AudioPorn Central. Actually that was one source of a bit of amusing drama -- I had made two mashups specific for Hungary, one using the classic Omega power ballad "Girl with the Pearl's Hair" and one using a filthy reggae-rap by the Budapestian Beastie Boys, Belga, called "Egy Ket Ha." The latter was a friendlier, sprightly drum-n-bassy number, but because of the dirty lyrics, we had to use the Omega mix for an "exclusive" track on his blog, despite my doubts about its appeal to the mainstream audience who would come there (due to a big link on index.hu, a major Hungarian internet destination, apparently). My suspicions turned out to be right, since apparently commenters on the post were universally negative, allowing me the pleasure of learning the Hungarian word for "shit" ("szar"). I did feel a little bad but we all know how internet commenters can be.

While Budapest had been swelteringly hot Monday and Tuesday, it cooled significantly on Wednesday when my "headline" gig was scheduled at Zold, making it a bit less attractive for kids to come out, but a good crowd did anyway, not gigantic but enthusiastic, and despite the presence of that one drunk guy screaming at me to play Michael Jackson (which, drunk or sober, has happened at every gig I've played since that dude kicked the bucket -- what the hell, people, is it more fun to listen to his music now that he's dead, or what?), he was outnumbered by the groups of actual live Party Ben fans, who told me they had "all the Sixx Mixxes" and took pictures with me and asked for my autograph and all that crazy junk. One marvels at the power of the internet, and also one is thankful for nice people, who totally made my night.

Budapest itself continued to both frustrate and amaze me -- the city is crazy beautiful, but the language is just crazy-making, especially for someone like myself who knows a couple languages and usually likes to pick up a few words and stuff before traveling somewhere. Hungarian was impenetrable to me, and some people were kind of unfriendly to the bumbling foreigner, especially, say, the woman who came out and yelled at me when I was just trying to read the signs and figure out why the Kiraly Baths, lauded as a stunning old piece of Turkish architecture built to house a bunch of hot spring pools, was inexplicably closed, on a day the guide magazine said they were open. This happened at another baths too, minus the yelling, but I finally made it to the Szescheni baths and pools, which were pretty amazing but not super hot, as far as water temperature goes, and super touristy, possibly due to the New York Times giving it a shout out.

But I was not going to miss the funicular!

In addition to my general love and fascination with all public transit, I have a special place in my heart for funiculars, inclined trains whose quirky custom-made specificity charms my socks off every time. Watch Budapest's above.

Also, I spent a drunken night out with Pozsi showing me all the cool nightspots, and man does Budapest have some amazing venues -- for instance, Holdudvar, a huge, sprawling open air patio on an island in the Danube, under huge modernist tents and glowing red lights, or Cha Cha Cha, also on the island, where I met a dude from Chicago who professed his love for J Dilla without me even prompting him. Also, there was some club whose name I can't remember but was accessed by a tiny elevator, whose hipster attendant had a cooler with mini bottles of Jaeger and a "palinka," (pronounced PAL-inka, not pa-LINK-a, like the Russian speaker in me wanted to), a local specialty that just refers basically to a fruit-based liquor, and can be any flavor. This crazy skinny bottle with a gothic type-face was cherry flavor, and of course I had to buy one for about 500 forints (around $2.50). Once the elevator arrived on the appropriate (3rd? 4th) floor, it opened to reveal a Mad Max-y scene of red-lit corrodores filled with hipsters and junky chairs, eventually leading to a steamy room blasting dancehall rhythms complete with dreadlocked MC. Up a clanky metal staircase to the gargantuan roof and views of the city. Then there was Szimpla, again, another place I would never have noticed from the street, just an entrance into a non-descript looking old building, which suddenly opens up to a huge, tree-filled courtyard, strung with lights, surrounded by two or three stories of glowing bars, and complete with a disembowled Trabant in the middle. Insane.

Anyhoo, finally I had to say goodbye to the beautiful, disconnected apartment, and grab the new RailJet train to Munich via Vienna. The train is billed kind of as a "bullet" although it only reaches its top speed of 200kph (about 125mph) once it gets into Austria. First class ticket for the nearly 7-hour ride was 59 euros, though, so you can't go wrong.

In Munich it was right to the club for Bootie Munich last night, where I did my video set via laptop to another enthusiastic crowd, complete with some former San Franciscans, one of whom confessed to hating mashups at first but eventually coming around to being a fan. Sound issues at the venue meant I wasn't totally happy with the set, but the video worked fine, so hopefully people enjoyed themselves.

Crap picture of the crowd at Bootie Munich

One of the venue guys had arranged to get me a guest slot at one of the many open-air music stages at Munich "Christopher Street Day," their big gay pride celebration set for Saturday (er, today), and I wasn't sure what to expect -- SF's gay pride has a bunch of different stages, some of which are just a few kids in a tent, and others are massive dance arenas. This turned out to be the latter, a huge plaza with a raised DJ platform, so I jumped up and did a goofy set veering between 80s-y themes remixes and mashups, some of my more electro-y new items, that Laidback Luke mix of Daft Punk's "One More Time," Cut Copy's "Hearts on Fire," stuff like that. Tons of fun although as I said on Facebook, I was pushing it a bit far with the MIA remix -- the stage had been playing genero-gay-house, like that "You're Free To Do what You Want to Do" song that just makes my brain ache with its self-helpy, saccharine emptiness. But that's what the gays like. I did play that new David Guetta thing to make up for my edgier stuff. Here's me:

The club promoter who had helped organize the stage was pleased enough to ask me to come by and "maybe spin" tonight at one of their big after parties, but after a few beers and snacks around town, I decided his vague proposition to "just come to the club and come find him and then they'll figure it out" seemed like it might turn out to be a total mess, especially since I would have been by myself and my German is quite bare-bones at this point. Not-on-list, can't-find-dude, no-open-slots, other-DJ-mad, yada yada, and me not able to understand any of that, with 30 million drunk Germans all pushing and shoving... sorry Sugar, I just wasn't up for it. But danke!

And of course danke to Alex and Frank, Bootie Munich promoters, and their housemate Julia, who were generous enough to allow me to take over their living room for a couple days.

Monday: France and Francofolies! Will I successfully pass myself off as a local at the French-centric festival? Stay tuned...

Budapest: Dumbfoundingly Beautiful and Kind of Creepy

2009-07-06T05:12:00.000-07:00

It couldn't have been a more perfect drive into Budapest on Sunday evening with the always-friendly DJ Pozsi -- the sunny skies gave way to rain clouds, and as we approached the outskirts of Budapest, a rainbow appeared in the distance in the direction of the city. Entering from the southwest on the main highway, you come upon the city suddenly, with the suburban malls and car dealers giving way suddenly to old buildings, and then you're crossing the Danube. The view to the north from the bridge was just stupefying, unlike anything I've ever seen -- the small rainstorm had just passed and the sun was shining orange-gray from under dark clouds, backlighting the hills of Buda, the castle and crazy statue on top of this almost-mountain right next to the river. The bright, angular light threw the city itself into a weird darkness, and add the gothic architecture and suddenly you have something from a vampire movie.

Pozsi is putting me up at his just-finished vacation rental apartment, and we walk into the building, and my jaw drops even further -- the building is out of The Hunger, with huge archways surrounding a tall central courtyard and an old iron cage style elevator. The apartment itself is done up ultra-modern style, and couldn't be more awesome except it's not quite finished and so doesn't have internet, TV, radio, or hot water. :)

I walked up to the chain bridge after the sun se, and still just can't even believe this city. It's stunningly beautiful, and not in that tourist-postcard way Paris can be sometimes: gritty and sometimes dirty, with abandoned buildings and stuff, so "beautiful" really isn't even the word. Like something out of a movie, and the weirdly creepy gothic factor totally works in its favor. Amazing.

Now unfortunately instead of sightseeing or getting relief from the sweltering heat at one of the many public baths, I have to go try and buy a new laptop battery since mine took this opportunity to up and die for good, which makes sense because I'm in fucking Hungary so of course this isn't going to be difficult at all, I'm fluent in the language and know where all the technology stores are. DARRRRRRR

Hungary Stays Up All Night (Update: Now with Photos!)

2009-07-05T06:45:00.000-07:00

Well, at least the 20 (?) thousand or so people who attended the VOLT festival here in Sopron. I guess I should have expected the late late nights, but it's understandable that I would be lulled into an old-dude-friendly "lights out at midnight" festival schedule by Coachella, which famously must pay a $1,000 fine, I think, for every minute they create retiree-disturbing sound after the clock strikes twelve. VOLT, being kind of out at a campground at the edge of this small city, is I guess more like Bonnaroo, which a) features mostly on-site camping and b) goes til the wee hours. Last night, Saturday, the final night of the festival, was no exception, and fittingly capped off a progressively-more-bonkers week with a couple super crazy sets. First off, back in our T-Mobile branded terrace room thing, I'm to get things going at midnight, but unfortunately the 10-12 guy is possibly the most aggressively listener-unfriendly DJ on the planet; not bad, necessarily, if you like shuddering, shrieking techno in impossible-to-follow time signatures or put-the-drill-in-drill-'n'-bass played at absolutely ear-splitting volumes. By the end of his set there were a few scattered casualties lying on couches at the edges of the terrace and one blissed-out girl still grooving away, so I had a bit of a challenge building a dancefloor. Now, I don't mean to big myself up, especially considering I had the bonus of Saturday's headliner Marilyn Manson finishing his set right at 12:30 (and the crowds dispersing to our still-bouncing side stages), but even by then I had managed to get a pretty packed floor going, something I think I should really get a fucking award for, although granted I was playin' the hits.

Amusingly, another group of DJs had (apparently, from what I understood, "inspired" by our mashup-themed room) created a "Bootleg Bar" just around the corner from our zone, and while they seemed to mostly play breaks remixes of familiar tunes, I have to admit I was pretty jealous of their setup which had a much better lighting rig (although our sound system showed theirs up by the time it got retuned on Thursday). It was also more open to the nearby path and just generally had a more solid crowd. (Especially when our room was playing Aphex Twin b-sides). And just like that, Saturday night I find out that the guys over there are big fans of my work and want me to do a guest set. I get Simon Idoll sorted out in the terrace after a few false starts and skedaddle over to their stage where I proceed to do a Party Ben power jams set, which goes well but not just ridiculously well, I mean I kind of lost the hands-in-the-air energy during a few of my own admittedly self-indulgent little electro forays. But first of all, I felt a little like acknowledging my homeland, since it was July 4th, so I opened with a short edit of Jimi Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner from Woodstock. I don't think anyone got it. But my two new Hungarian mixes went down a storm: first up, I've done a kind of electro mix of Hungarian metal combo Omega's '80s euro-smash, "Girl With the Pearl's Hair," a power ballad whose la-la-la-la chorus even a few Americans might recognize. My mix just basically plays the chorus and then loops the final note for a big buildup into a stomping techno beat lifted from Jean Elan's "Killer," which is just massive on a big soundsystem like that. Second, perhaps using my DJ ESP to anticipate the utter dominance of breaks and drum 'n' bass at the festival, I did a jungly mix of Belga's "Egy Het Ka." The band are kind of the Hungarian Beastie Boys-slash-Bloodhound Gang, and the track I picked has a loping reggae beat that fit perfectly over the good old Urban Takeover jump-up mix of Fatboy Slim's "Rockafella Skank." What I didn't realize is that its lyrics are also, apparently, utterly filthy, with a chorus that refers repeatedly to fellatio (my fellow DJ informed me). But, you know, bonus! So wrapping up my set around 3am with that little number (photo at like 3:10am above) turned out very well.

At this point as well I'm kind of drunk, partially because I figured out these weird ball things made by some local alcohol producer. All week people would give me these goofy little plastic balls, about the size of a golf ball and branded with the company's logo, and I would just toss them, thinking they were dumb promotional toys or something. Well, no, it turns out, if you unscrew it, it opens up to reveal a deliciously fruity alcoholic shot of some sort. One of the other DJs gave me one as I started my set and when I was like "what the hell is this thing," he demonstrated, and then once I'm seen up there on stage drinking the thing people are of course all like, "give Party Ben more balls." And then what am I supposed to do, offend their country by not drinking them?

A big giddy after all that, I wander over to another side stage where Noisia and MC ID are doing a much more melodic, friendly style of drum 'n' bass, and I dance around with the crowd for a while. Then I headed back to our good old terrace which wrapped up, again, around 5am, with the sun bright in the sky.

At about 5:10am, I'm waiting for the car to the hotel in a bit of a daze, standing out in the path a ways away from the Bootleg Bar, which still has a good crowd going, amazingly enough, to more drum 'n' bass. I see that it's the DJ who introduced me on the decks, and take a quick picture (see above). A second later and he spots me standing out there and gets on the mic, and starts shouting stuff. I hear a few "Party Ben's" and then a bunch of Hungarian and the whole crowd turns to look at what the hell he's talking about. "Party Ben, you arrrre my DJ brrrotherrr!" he shouts. The crowd is baffled, and I give a bit of an "I'm not worthy" bow, and mercifully, he's done. But, funny!

Anyway, I'd just like to speak to any of my DJ friends out there reading this, thinking, "who is Party Ben to deserve to go to this random country and DJ." Some of you have even come out and said it, like Australian mashupper Dsico who posted "gee, 4 days at VOLT, how did you manage that?" on GYBO, like I somehow tricked the festival into booking me. How do you fucking think I managed it? Maybe they fucking asked? And maybe when I said "could I please play two or three nights so I can go do Bootie Paris" they said, "no, we want you every night"? Maybe that? Whatever. But yes, okay, whether or not you’re an insensitive Australian dingo-face, I get you, I don't exactly have Top 10 hits or anything, and sure, there are many other deserving mashup producers, DJs, and supermodels out there who could also have been booked, for sure. Yes. However, I would just like to say that this was not all fun and games; the festival, especially the first day, was a total clusterfuck, organization-wise, and since I was pretty much at the bottom of the bill I was last priority for the organizers, who had forgotten to schedule things like, say, a car to get me from the festival to the hotel and back, and then, say, after two hours of waiting for a car, finally plop me into one, and then the driver turns to me and says something in Hungarian that I assume means "where are we going," and no-one's told me the name or location of the hotel, and he doesn't speak English, so I try to make clear to him I don't know where I'm going in a pastiche of German and hand gestures, and he gives me this look like "fucking Americans think they own me and I am biding my time before I can kill you all," and then we have to go chase down the organizers who have, of course, disappeared. That kind of shit. Also, with the music around the festival and what the crowds seemed to enjoy a bit off from what I expected, I spent hours each day reworking my set and remixing some of my tracks. So, what I'm trying to say is that, yes, I'm totally not famous enough to get booked at a big festival like this, and clearly it was some sort of mistake, but this was a goddamned fucking battle, and I battled, and I labored, and I endured, and I totally earned the great crowds and hugely fun sets I had the last three days, through sheer blood sweat and tears. The last thing I felt was "entitled" to the gigs, so I worked my ass off, and was rewarded. Anyone else out there willing to do the same would, I'm sure, have been as well.

Ahem. So, yes, I'm off to Budapest in a few minutes, which I'm looking forward to very much – this Hunguest (huh huh huh) hotel is basically in the forest at the edge of town and there aren't any things like stores or whatever anywhere nearby, and I have like 18 cents left in Hungarian forints right now and I'm so hungry I'm about to die. Will post pictures when I'm back in civilization…

This Picture...

2009-07-04T06:06:00.001-07:00

...was taken at 3:45am, er, this morning, nearly 4 hours after I started DJing in the newly re-engineered "T-mobile terrace." Holy Hungarian 4-hour mega-marathon DJ sets. Tons of fun, and thanks sound guys for helping out!

My cohort DJ Poszi took over with some crazy breaks and drum 'n' bass (see?!) at about 4 and I took a quick walk around for some fresh air. A few doors down at the more "mainstream" dance room, the DJ is playing Boney M's "Rasputin," so I had a little shimmy with the kids. Then I went back and tag-teamed with Poszi until, er, about 5? See, these festivals, they aren't like Coachella over here, and when we shut our room down and got a ride to our respective hotels, in the full bright morning light, the party was still going strong. Go, Hungary.

Question: When is MTV not MTV?

2009-07-03T06:13:00.000-07:00

Answer: when the "M" stands for "Magyarország," the Hungarian word for Hungary. That's right, the TV station that was interviewing me when I arrived at the VOLT Festival here in Sopron wasn't "Hungarian MTV," like I thought, although I think the miscommunication is understandable since that's how they referred to it in their initial e-mail, and a youthful hipster such as myself would obviously interpret that to mean the local offshoot of Music Television. But no, this is, literally, Hungary TV, one of the four or five Hungarian channels on my TV here at the hotel, and a national broadcaster of some note. Neat. Apparently the interview already aired last night, so if you were watching, I hope they didn't edit me to look stupider, since that always happens to me, but in the interest of clarity, here's basically how it went:

Interviewer: So, Party Ben, what makes you so brave to take music and change it?

Me: … Brave? Er… well… um… I wouldn't really say "brave," I would say, "easily bored," I guess? It's more like a disease, I can't stop changing music.

Interviewer: I've heard you're making some Hungarian mashups to play?

Me: Yes, I'm working on mixes of Omega, Belga and Beatrice [the final two didn't turn out so well, more on that later].

Interviewer: You stay up late every night DJing and it's of course a difficult lifestyle. How do you stay looking so young? [I shit you not]

Me: [Collapsing into hysterics] What? Seriously? Oh, stop, just stop. [Desperately thinking of something to say] Uhhh, I guess since I live in California, and we all eat our vegetables? [Realizing that was dumb.] Also I have a deal with the devil. [Realizing I'm digging myself in deeper, shutting up]

Interviewer: Thank you Party Ben!

So, as you can imagine, there's been some hilarity here in Hungary ("Hungilatiry"?) but things are basically going alright. First I should mention the brief visit to Vienna (Sopron is just over the border from Austria, and Vienna, about an hour's drive, was the meeting point for most artists on the bill). Mashup connoisseurs will remember that Vienna (or at least its outskirts) is home to DJ Schmolli, and he braved rush hour traffic to meet me at my hotel downtown and then heroically whisked me around the city to see as much stuff as possible. I finally got my TV tower fix in, and then we also hit up the old Vienna carnival, and by "old" I mean like "older than America," whose giant ferris wheel was featured in The Third Man, film buffs.

But my stay in Vienna was to be all too brief as I had to rush and meet the car that would take us over the border into Sopron. Also coming along in my van from Vienna: Delinquent Habits, a rough-and-tumble LA hip-hop combo whose first question to the VOLT representative when we got in the van was "Hey, you know where we can score some weed?" The VOLT guy ("Zoltan"!!!) said he thought so. After a beat, I piped up: "And I'd like a Red Bull please." Everybody thought I was very funny.

VOLT booked me to play all four nights of the Wednesday to Saturday festival, and so inevitably there were some first-night technical issues: the room they had us set up in was supposed to magically transform from a couch-filled chill-out lounge during the day to a thumping club at night, but of course, come night time, there's no one to actually, say, move any couches or anything. Plus the sound had been set up for the local radio station, also ensconced in the same place, and was weirdly compressed and quiet in the actual room. So, after a first-night fail, they got their act together, admirably (thanks by the way to DJ Poszi for helping out with that) and moved me to a DJ booth sort of straddling the VIP area and a general-public bar/dance tent thing, directly opposite the main stage, and scheduled me to go on right after the headliners. On Thursday night, amusingly enough, that was none other than Limp Bizkit. I was dreading their set, which I kind of had to sit through in anticipation of their who-knows-when ending, but in all honesty it turned out to not actually be that bad, just repetitive, since every song is kind of in the same key and stuff. For his between song banter, however, Fred Durst sank to hilariously idiotic, they-can't-really-understand-me-so-I-won't-even-try-to-make-sense lazy platitudes: "the feeling we have to play for you, you give us that feeling, so thank you, we are happy, to get that from you" kind of junk. Which was pretty awesome.

Then I got to play some tunes and stuff, which went pretty well, I kind of did a mix of mainstream rock/hip-hoppy kind of stuff to appeal to the Bizkiters and then more of my patented electro nuttiness. Fun times. I do want to point out one totally weird but kind of great think I've noticed here at the festival: there are about 5 or 6 various dance tents/rooms/platforms of varying sizes, and each of them, every single time I've walked by, has been playing breaks, or maybe drum 'n' bass. Every time. All breaks. It's crazy. Some of you may know I'm a big fan of the breakbeat tunes and in fact my DJ incarnation just before my mashuppy pseudo-fame was in the "nu skool" breaks genre. But correct me if I'm wrong, at least in California it seems like that scene has totally died out, except for some Burning Man types, and even they have mostly moved on to dubstep. I feel a little awkward since my current work is very much in the 4/4, bassline-centric electro-house zone. Anyway, whatever, I am what I am, but I did pull out that old breaks mix of the Gorillaz which got some cheers last night.

By the way, a torrential downpour in the evening meant that the entire festival was one giant sloppy mud pit, making me pine a bit for the dry roasting heat of Coachella, and also giving me that sinking feeling you can only get when you've got one pair of pants for 2 months and they're getting covered with brown slime. But hey, it's a rite of passage, right?

Hungary itself I haven't seen much of, except for a bit of wandering around the town center of Sopron. The city has about 50,000 people so the VOLT festival with its equivalent attendance is a big thing here, and the charming little restaurant I ate at for lunch had a "special VOLT menu": giant local Soproni beer, funky meatball soup, chicken cordon bleu with the ubiquitous fries, 2000 forints, or about $11. Obviously I don't speak more than the most basic Hungarian, and people don't even seem to understand me when I try out the most simple words like "Köszönöm" ("thank you"). My English fumbling and goofy sunglasses were likely what led to my waitress at the aforementioned restaurant asking for my autograph in scrambled, halting English that took me about 5 minutes to figure out what exactly she wanted.

Of course, a crazy new language does make for chuckles, and first among them, the name of my hotel:

Yes, that says "Hunguest." Joke 1: How do you think they knew? Joke 2: Glad I wasn't booked at the Micropenis Lodge down the street. Joke 3: I suddenly look at Super 8 and Motel 6 in a whole new light. Et cetera, tip your waitress.

Also, does anybody need any throat lozenges? Actually, I don't mean "anybody," I mean…

Oh boy. You know, I imagine Bill O'Reilly could spin this as reverse discrimination somehow.

Two more days of VOLTing around then I'm off to Budapest for gigs at the exciting-looking outdoor Zold Pardon, then off to Munich to hang with the craziest dudes this side of Stuttgart. Internet service comes in 30 minute, 300-forint chunks here at the Hunguest, and only in the lobby, so I've had to type this in Word and then upload it as fast as I can, and I haven't been able to stay on top of the e-mail or blogging as much as I'd like, but hopefully I'll be back on top of things by Monday.

And Thanks MUYB/Bootie Berlin Crew For an Awesome Time

2009-06-29T05:00:00.001-07:00

Check out that picture -- with Party Ben's German heritage, you can't even pick me out of the lineup. Which black-shirted skimpily-facial-haired medium-blond dude might I be? Take your pick. Anyway, great hanging with these kids, and not just because we share 99.99999% of our genes. Andre/Morgoth is busting his butt to bring mashup culture to this techno-dominated city, not that I don't like techno but you know what I'm saying. His lady friend Steffie, co-DJ Dr. Waumiau and host at the "Mashup Hostel" Alex could not have been nicer, and everybody else hanging around and working at Silver Wings and U5 were great. Danke schon, and um, what was it, schon das du hier was?

Party Ben, European Tour Guide, Recommends: Intimes Cafe, Friedrichshain, Berlin

2009-06-29T04:43:00.001-07:00

Two words: Sunday Brunch. Four words: Sunday Brunch Buffet 8E50 (approximately $12). 21 words: Holy schiesse I don't think I've ever seen so many varied and delicious plates of brunchy deliciousness in my life. Apparently brunch in Berlin is a big thing, and all the restaurants do it, but I went to Intimes, on Boxhagenerstrasse in the amazing, vibrant Friedrichshain neighborhood of the old East Berlin, and it was like dying and going to heaven. Because you know how I feel about brunch. This one featured about 100 different dishes including cheesy ravioli, stuffed mushrooms with spinach, vegetable medleys, bafflingly tasty couscous, like 17 various fried something or others, smoked salmon, creamy potato salads like heavenly starch clouds, a whole dessert area, and oh yeah, some scrambled eggs. Plus the outdoor table scene with scrabbly punk rockers and funky german families where dad's got bleached hair and mom's got goofy purple little round glasses. Best way to spend a Sunday morning and afternoon in Berlin. Plus my host Alex is like "this buffet is one of the small ones." How soon can I come back?!

I'm just sorry I forgot my camera, but this way, it will always live in my memory.

Tomorrow: off to Vienna for a day and then to the VOLT festival in Hungary, where I'm being treated, a little inappropriately, as a superstar: one of their largest news sites reported on my arrival in Europe on their main blog like I'm some sort of visiting dignitary, and I guess MTV Hungary wants to do an interview as soon as I arrive in Sopron for VOLT. What do they think I am, Girl Talk?

Bootie Berlin Goes Well, and Berlin Snacks Continue to Be Awesome

2009-06-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

I have to say I was a bit skeptical about the inaugural edition of Bootie Berlin last night; first, it was happening at the Silver Wings club, which is located, crazily, in the old Templehof airport building complex. Templehof, as anyone familiar with WWII will know, is the airport that kept kept Berlin alive when the Soviets closed off access to the city, and is also one of, or maybe the, largest, like, structure, in the world. But it's also a bit out of the way, meaning anybody coming to the club had to really be coming to the club, not just strolling by. But by about midnight, which is actually early for Berlin nightlife, a good crowd had assembled, and when I went on around 1 I had a nicely full dancefloor, who cheered for the new track I made, a mashup of German dancehall combo Seeed and a remix of Bronski Beat's "Smalltown Boy." (Perhaps in celebration of Gay Pride which the Berliners are also celebrating this weekend).

Sheer exhaustion after getting back from the gig around 6am led me to sleep until 3pm, something I never ever do back home, but thankfully, the Freidrichshain neighborhood I'm staying in has adjusted to the nocturnal habits of its inhabitants and most restaurants say "Frühstück: 10:00 - 16:00" ("Breakfast, 10am-4pm"). Which is how it SHOULD be, goddammit! And this isn't just any breakfast, this is, well, look:

Thick crumply bacon and fried eggs and side salad and multiple bread choices and glgaglgarrrrhghgh. And that was like 4€50, which is just over $6. Not bad, especially for the DJ on a budget.

Also I wanted to mention visiting the Holocaust Memorial near the Brandenberg Gate on Thursday, which was more interesting than I expected. The memorial opened in 2005, and I remember seeing pictures of it around magazines and whatever: a grid of variously-sized concrete blocks, only a few inches high at the perimeters but up to 15 feet high in the center. In pictures, it honestly seemed kind of... pedestrian, I hate to say, like, "okay, gravestones, I get it." But in person, I had a weird experienced that made me appreciate it more. My new Berlin friends had been giving me a tour of the city that day, so there was a group of five of us walking around. The memorial itself isn't separated from the sidewalk so you just can sort of walk in casually. I stopped near the edge, where the concrete slabs are just ankle- or knee-height, to fiddle with my camera and stuff, as my friends continued on, jabbering loudly as we'd been doing all day. I finish taking a picture, probably just a few seconds of distraction, and when I look up, my friends have disappeared. They've walked deeper into the taller slabs, obviously, but it was so sudden: one minute they were next to me, and the next, they were just gone, and I had no idea where they were, and even their voices were weirdly distant echoes that I wasn't even sure were coming from them. I had that brief, instinctual moment of fear, like when you think you've lost the group you're with in an unfamiliar city, which made me laugh for a second, because of course I knew right where they were, generally, but then it suddenly hit me that this might be part of the point of the memorial's structure. Walking into it with a group, you are inevitably separated from them, almost without warning, and left alone, with only fleeting glimpses of other people down the empty rows. It gives you the faintest clue what it must have been like, having people around you, friends and neighbors, suddenly just disappear. The uneven, hilly floor of the memorial is also surprising -- you're walking amongst ankle-height stones at the edge, thinking this is nothing much, and then before you know it you're plunged into darkness, lost between towering concrete slabs. I'm still not sure it's great art (nor am I exactly sure why they had to make clear it's only a memorial to Jewish victims) but it does prove that you have to see some stuff in person.

Anyway. Tonight was supposed to be a more mellow party at a small neighborhood club called the U5 (named for the subway line the space used to be an entrance for) but it turns out some big bar-hopping group thing has made it a stop on their tour and some big Germany TV station is coming by as well, so who knows. I've got to get over there and see if I can make my laptop plug in to their video system for Party Ben video fun times.

Oh and hey: thanks to Dr. Waumiau for playing a bunch of my stuff on his webcast, and to Andre Angenfeld for playing a Party Ben mini-mix on Fritz 102.6FM here in Berlin last night!

Berlin - Photo Highlights

2009-06-25T14:01:00.001-07:00

Vee Lavv Berlinnn!

2009-06-25T04:24:00.000-07:00

Anybody remember that old "Berlinnium" song? No? Well me and Disco Shawn do. Anyway, it keeps going through my head as I walk around the socialistically-wide streets of the fascinating, lovely East Berlin neighborhood of Friedrichshain. At the main subway station, Frankfurter Tor, you emerge onto an intersection straight out of Moscow: wide streets criss-crossed by streetcar tracks, surrounded by monumentalist post-war architecture. However, the massive buildings are now filled on their ground floors with funky restaurants and bars, and covered with graffiti, and the side streets are crowded with even more shops and bars, and lined with trees. All of this apparently wasn't here, you know, 20 or so years ago, when this was a different country separated from the rest of the city by a frickin wall, which, by the way, is just completely bonkers.

Rewind to my arrival yesterday. Direct flights to just about anywhere in Europe on my schedule of late June to early August were crazy expensive, and after much searching I found a super cheap (about $480) fare on Air Canada from New York, although it's via Toronto on the way out (and Montreal on the way back). So, on Tuesday afternoon, I went from La Guardia to Toronto, sat there for a few hours, then flew to Frankfurt, where I arrived Wednesday around noon, and then spent way too much money on a train ticket to Frankfurt (note to self or anyone else coming to Germany: buy your train tickets in advance even if you're worried about late flights causing you to miss the original train because prices will likely double if you're buying them that day). Round about the time I had to change trains in Hannover yesterday afternoon, I was starting to be in a real sleep-deprivation fog, and just stumbled onto whatever train seemed to be the right one, and somehow made it to Berlin on time, where I was met by the local DJs and Bootie/MUYB emprisarios Morgoth, Dr. Waumiau, and Pozzy, who proceeded to hand me a gigantic bottle of beer right there in the Berlin train station. Turns out drinking beer in, say, train stations, or on the metro train, is not a problem, although in my sleep-deprived state I couldn't help but get jumpy and hide the beer when we came in view of some police.

I'm staying with Pozzy and his apartment seems a typical old East Berlin style unit, beautiful tall ceilings and foot-thick walls with double-height windows. At the moment we're getting ready to head out to see some of the sights, although the cloudy, spitty weather means the big TV tower (that you see pictured above in a photo I did not take) is off the agenda.

First gigs are tomorrow (Friday) and Saturday, and we're not exactly sure how they'll be, with the weather iffy and various other events like the Berlin gay pride festivities going on at the same time, but the Friday event is at the old Templehof airport, which is kind of insane.

Also: Berlin does a phenomenal breakfast. We went out to just a regular old cafe and ordered the scrambled eggs for 4.50 euros, and I expected a little tiny plate of eggs and maybe a piece of bread; what showed up on the table was a gargantuan platter of eggs mixed with feta cheese, a huge tasty salad, and a giant basket of 5 different kinds of bread. Apparently Berlin's weekend brunch buffets are something to behold, another reason to love this city, which I already do, even though I speak like 4 words of the language.

Hey, Phil Bronstein Agrees With Me About Gavin Newsom

2008-11-05T16:50:00.000-08:00

And thanks, Phil Bronstein, for saying what I said, with more actual evidence:

As San Francisco and the blue state majority of California nurse their election euphoria hangover, let's point out the obvious about the passage of Prop. 8:

Gavin Newsom screwed it up.

Voters are the ones who make the decision but no one person handed the Yes on 8 campaign a more persuasive and compelling sound bite than our own mayor. Even if there were other flaws in the anti-8 operation, he was unquestionably the poster child for the pro-8 push, whether you like it or not.

And unlike Willie Brown, whose 70s high afro and muttonchop sideburn photo got used as a thinly disguised racial scare tactic in the 80s by some Republican candidates for the State legislature (nothing he could do about it), Mr. Newsom willingly and imperiously handed over the ammunition in yesterday's election.

While No on 8 campaigners like Alex Tourk, who I talked to recently, were agonizing over whether they'd win and were working every angle, Mr. Newsom was out stumping against the proposition this last, critical weekend. Where? In Solano, the only Bay Area county to vote for 8? In Contra Costa, where the tally was pretty close and some minds might have been changed?

No, the mayor was hitting the bricks in the Castro. How many people in that neighborhood do you think were undecided on same sex marriage? But it sure must have been fun getting all that adoration and applause. No boos there for Mr. Newsom, not even on Halloween.

Thank you.

Haight St. Whole Foods/Apt Building Update: Well Look At That, They Approved It

2008-10-25T16:02:00.001-07:00

Okay, yes, as usual, I didn't mince words when discussing the ridiculous NIMBY baloney that was driving the discussion of a mixed-use building for the long-vacant lot at Haight and Stanyan. The whole thing seemed all too familiar, a typical San Francisco notion that any development whatsoever is bad, because it might not exactly fit the supposed character of this city-in-a-bottle, or whatever, and so let's just keep the crack-pipe-filled parking lot since that's obviously working so well for us. But perhaps my outrage has contributed to a turnaround (well, it's possible). As Socketsite reports:

Last night, the Planning Commission voted 6-0 to approve the Conditional Use for the 690 Stanyan project, the mixed-use proposal with Whole Foods as the anchor tenant. During the four hour hearing, we produced nearly 400 letters of support, a spreadsheet showing 244 supporters for the Draft EIR, and a list of nearly 260 supporters from 690stanyan.com. This, in addition to the dozens and dozens of supporters who came to speak and show solidarity to the project, I believe, convinced the Commissioners that this was indeed a project that had overwhelming support.

Halle-freakin'-luyah. Now we'll see if the damn thing gets built. And while they're at it, any chance they could do something about this useless empty triangle? A mini-Ikea and a cheap sushi bar, plus someplace that sells socks, would be my suggestion.

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Gavin Newsom: The Savior or Saboteur of Gay Marriage?

2008-10-14T13:05:00.000-07:00

Call me suspicious, paranoid, a pessimist, but my celebration of San Francisco's brief "legalization" of same-sex marriage in 2004 was tempered by deep concern, something I tried to keep hidden in order to support my friends who were taking advantage of the moment to tie the knot. While most San Franciscans immediately hailed the decision, I felt worried about the actual effects down the road.

There's a certain political chaos theory that seems to come into play a lot of the time, where actions taken eventually have the opposite of their intended effect. Look, for instance, at President Bill Clinton's attempt to end the military's anti-gay discriminatory policy, or his and Hillary's attempt to put together universal health care. Both were handled so terribly that they caused an enormous backlash, which, in my opinion, set both causes back 20 years or more. We humans have such emotional reactions to politicians that I find it useful to look at the actual results, the real effects, of their actions: while Clinton was an inspiring speaker on gay rights, and hired lots of gays and lesbians in the White House, what were the effects of his eight years in office? DOMA and "Don't Ask Don't Tell." It's sad we have to play that game, but it's something we don't think twice about doing with George W. Bush, whose every word seems to be the direct opposite of his actions and their effects.

So, while seeing long-time couples finally tie the knot in the dramatic rotunda of San Francisco's City Hall was undeniably emotional and affecting, let's talk about reality. What did those marriages "mean"? They were issued in defiance of state and federal law, they had no legal weight whatsoever. It was almost like the couples were being used, their emotions toyed with: here, sign these papers that would be legal in any other circumstance, but for you, they're just a "protest." Then, in a couple weeks, this "marriage" you thought you had will be dissolved, but Gavin Newsom will get all the credit for "fighting the system" in a way that had no real consequences, and his approval ratings will go through the roof, assuring him of reelection.

Actually, I take that back: there were real consequences, and they were negative. A country unsure about this whole gay thing was treated to visions of their most-hated city enacting "play" gay marriages, enacting every concern they have. Not to defend their points of view, but we've seen how rhetoric and terminology are important recently with John McCain and Sarah Palin inciting nutbag supporters to scream "Kill him" at their rallies, so I think we can all agree that understanding how to "play a crowd" is a vital part of politics. While McCain/Palin seem to be fanning flames of hatred with secret whispers and winks (although McCain, at least lately, seems to have come to a sobering realization of what's going on), Newsom's unilateral marriage stunt was like making Frankenstein's monster do a breakdance in front of an angry mob: just a useless taunting of a dangerous crowd. Of course, we all know what happened in 2004: John Kerry lost a close election and state after state amended their constitutions with bans on same-sex marriage or any recognition whatsoever of same sex couples.

Now, in the wake of this year's California Supreme Court decision legalizing gay marriage, Proposition 8 is on the November ballot to ban it again. For a while this summer, it looked like it was going down, but new polls seem to show it winning. What, pray tell, is part of the reason? The San Francisco Chronicle has an idea:

The mayor has become the reluctant face of the campaign opposing same-sex unions with the help of a prominent Yes-on-Proposition-8 television ad. Conservative blogs have been atwitter about Newsom last week officiating at the wedding of a lesbian teacher whose class of first-graders took a field trip to celebrate with her.

In many ways, Newsom has become the single best campaign tool for proponents of Prop. 8 - and that might have been inevitable, political experts said.

"His pictures have become the rallying cry for Prop. 8. It's unfortunate for him, and it's unfortunate for the anti-Prop. 8 campaign," said Barbara O'Connor, a professor of political communications at California State University Sacramento. "I don't know that I would change his behavior, because he's representing his constituency, and he's been totally consistent in his position. But he's become everyone's worst nightmare."

Of course, in all truthfulness, I would be a terrible politician: I'd just blurt out whatever I was thinking at all times without any regard for the consequences, and I'm sure I'd screw things up. But that's why I don't run for office. There are people I know who have deified Gavin Newsom, and I've had to listen to them give tearful tributes to him at more than one wedding, as though he alone has made the marriages possible. On the contrary: there doesn't seem to be any evidence that the 2004 stunt did anything but energize the opposition and complicate the inevitable court case, and his naive, self-serving actions are now galvanizing the forces who would take these rights away again.

Oh, Blue Angels, Please Crash Down Upon South of Market and Release Me From This Mortal Coil, You Sweet Angels of Death

2008-10-09T16:35:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody, it's Fleet Week time again, and in addition to drunk, horny sailors, you know what that means: Blue Angels! As I type this, five of these blue-and-yellow aeroplanes just went right the fuck over my street, with that terrifying noise that starts out up in the high registers, a hiss of impending doom, then suddenly, massively deepening into a gigantic, thunderous rush, becoming louder than you think it's possible for a sound to be, and then when you think it's as loud as it's going to get, it gets louder, and all the car alarms in the neighborhood go off.

Okay, okay, sure, fast airplanes are neat, and I get giddy like a little schoolboy watching them zoom around in bonkers formations, wing tips inches from touching. But the whole thing strikes me as completely, utterly insane. First question: doesn't anybody in this town have any work to do? Like, say, some of us, who maybe have work to do that has to do with, uh, audio?!? So, sorry, clients, all your shit is going to be like 5 days late since I can't hear a goddamn thing.

Second, perhaps more important question: has it occured to anyone that these daredevil flyboys, performing intricate maneuvers in their fuel-filled super-jets, are doing so over the most densely-populated area west of the Mississippi? And if one of them was to, say, get a little distracted for a split second while buzzing the Bank of America Building and plow into North Beach, they're likely to cause death and carnage on a scale that the human mind can barely comprehend?

Wow, honey, North Beach coffee is so tasty. Wait, what's that noise? And, kablooey.

Not to mention the jingoistic, military symbolism of the whole thing. All of this seems a bit crazy for liberal San Francisco, right? Well, the good old Board of Supes has tried and failed to get in the way of this juggernaut of military showmanship and daredevilry, thinking that perhaps they could appeal to the Bay Area's senses of, you know, peace and love and all that. But they failed, as all efforts to stop the Blue Angels and their vertigo-inducing maneuvers over our city, and I think I know why: it turns out there's something stronger even than our lovey-dovey liberalism here in San Francisco, and that's our longing for death.

Not only does the Bay Area have a rather high suicide rate, the Golden Gate Bridge presents an almost irresistible opportunity for the morbidly, er, morbid, and is often cited as "the most popular place to commit suicide in the world," with someone jumping to their death about once every two weeks.

Whether it's the city's reputation as a glowing haven for the unconventional drawing people who are intrinsically more likely to off themselves, or it's something about the dreary fog and insanely high cost of living, San Franciscans really just want to call it quits. But of course, everybody knows we're all supposed to be life-loving liberals in a place that's held up as an example of how to live for the rest of this trashy, red-state nation, so there's no way we can actually say that. Instead, our death wish spurts out in other, random ways, like say the way we drive, and also the invitation to our military to do some crazy dangerous shit right over our heads. Well, Blue Angels, I for one openly salute your death-defying ways, and invite you to aim right for South of Market, because not only would your crashing explosively into my pad save me from enduring more of this soul-crushing Curb Your Enthusiasm episode that's masquerading as my life, it would also be really hilarious: Party Ben, killed by a falling angel. Hold on while I go paint a target on my roof.

Haight-AshburyTurns Down Whole Foods+Apt. Building: More Evidence This City is a Hippie Moron-Filled Shithole

2008-08-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

Curbed has the skinny on a proposed multi-use development for the long-empty parking lot (and former terrible grocery store) at Haight & Stanyan, which was to contain a fancy whole foods on the ground floor and fancy condos above. Apparently, the neighborhood association is fighting it tooth and nail, and the project appears to be dead:

The Whole Foods-pimped, Haight Ashbury Improvement Association-approved project, which would replace the now-defunct Cala Foods with 62 condos and a Whole Foods on ground level, has been met with staunch opposition by the Haight Ashbury Neighborhood Council. (Do we have a neighborhood brawl on our hands here? Oh yes, yes we do. How very North Beach of you, Haight!) Though he hasn't gone on record, Supe Ross Mirkarimi hasn't exactly supported the development. Neither has the city, which is reportedly dragging its feet on the environmental review process— the developer has languished in limbo for 2 and-a-half years at this point, and sees no end in sight as the Planning Commission hasn't even granted an initial approval hearing. The dev has spent over $1 million on the EIR, and has "little to show for it except a stack of heavy draft documents."

Okay. Let me just point out again: this is a parking lot. It's in a neighborhood notorious for a shortage of housing, close to a variety of transit lines, and without a nearby grocery store. The site is across the street from the jankiest McDonalds in the city (okay, maybe 2nd after the one on Fillmore) as well as a homeless- and hippie-filled section of Golden Gate Park. It's a craphole, just down the street from the plasma bank and a bong store. But God forbid we put something useful there! No, the supposedly most liberal area in the supposedly most liberal city in the country would prefer a big slab of concrete for gas-guzzling cars in their neighborhood, instead of condos that might be, you know, market rate.

It's something you see repeated over and over in this myopic, naive little burg. Years ago at the Castro Street Fair, I happened across a booth with the banner "SAVE OUR BAY BRIDGE VIEWS." The staffers were there to protest the then-planned construction of skyscrapers in SOMA that might block a tiny sliver of the Bay Bridge that they could see from their Twin Peaks homes. These spoiled, pathetic turds were lucky enough to have houses on the hill with phenomenal views of downtown, the bay, and the East Bay hills, and yet they had the astounding narcissism to demand that the city in their windows remain completely static, for ever and ever and ever.

Even if you get approval for a new building, you better make it a chintzy Victorian or a staid and columned retro-boring classical piece of crap. Interested in having a flagship Prada store with a not-exactly-world-shattering metallic facade? Sorry, nope, that's just crazy, make it look like a bank!

It's the great secret of San Francisco: since we have to fight off the Bill O'Reillys of this world calling us sinners since we dare to think the gays should be able to get married, we all can be self-righteously proud of how extremely liberal we are. We're all so progressive! But it turns out that San Francisco is, really, profoundly conservative: afraid of change, unable to evolve, willing to look the other way as the streets fill with homeless and trash, electing Clinton-esque political machine mayors every single time. It almost makes you think about repealing rent control: it would knock most of these moldy pseudo-hippie NIMBY dipshits out to the suburbs where they belong.

Look, I'm all about responsible development, and I'm not entirely sure that cookie-cutter skyscrapers with block-wide bases are the best solution for SOMA. But the neighborhood is 14 steps from downtown, and yet it's had acres of empty parking lots for years and years. The East Village may be the ideal (as Jane Jacobs says) but we're not going to get it, and really, in the most dense urban area west of the Mississippi, any development in the urban core is good development. A parking lot is bad for multiple reasons: it's a blight on the neighborhood and a subsidy for suburban commuters. Even Jane would tell you: just build something!!!

California is young, and the growth of its cities is awkward and sloppy. While Los Angeles has ridden the roller coaster of development to a sudden, fascinating adolescense, having finally filled its usable geographic area and turning to creative reuse and infill and innovative transit projects, San Francisco filled up early. It makes it attractive to tourists, but since we never had a massive exodus from the downtown core, for instance, we don't have a resurgence like in LA, with its Standard hotel and downtown lofts. None of our downtown buildings were ever empty, so there have been only rare opportunities to bring residences into the area, meaning our downtown still languishes as a 9-to-5-only area, not unlike financial districts in Houston or Omaha.

What's the Matter with Kansas wonders why midwesterners vote against their own interests, focusing on pointless, destined-to-lose anti-abortion initiatives while their pockets are being picked. But it turns out this emotional myopia is universal: San Franciscans will fight the future as hard as they can, just because it might alter their fantasy vision of their city, reinforced by "Tales of the City" and TV and movies about as unrealistic as the "Friends" apartment in New York. But that fantasy is long gone, and holding on to it is a fallacy, and grasping a long-dead vision from the past is actively damaging the present: slowing development, stopping infill, legislating architectural conservatism, putting the brakes on innovative transit development. Well, we can be a dirty, concrete-filled Amsterdam if we want: a charming, impractical vestige of another time, with one subway line and a moldy vision of social liberalism. Cute, but if you want a real city, look elsewhere.

Photos: New York City, June 22-24, 2008

2008-06-27T01:23:00.000-07:00

A List of Everything That Went Wrong on My Trip Back from New York Yesterday

2008-06-26T16:47:00.000-07:00

1. United. I'd requested upgrades using those stupid (but free) 500-mile certificates on both legs of the trip. Those dumb things expire after a year or so, but 99% of the time they don't give you the upgrade if you request one, since any other upgrade request takes priority. I had 6, enough for either SFO-JFK or JFK-SFO. So I requested both, just in case the first didn't go through. Happily, the upgrade went through for the flight out (a helpful text message was sent to me at 4:00am to announce this). So yesterday, I'm in Manhattan, and I go to check in online for the return flight. The web site sticks me in an endless loop: it shows I requested an upgrade, and asks me to confirm how I want to pay for it, giving me only the option of spending 6 500-mile certificates, which I don't have any more. I was not allowed to cancel the upgrade, only to purchase 6 more certificates for $200, and if I didn't do that, it would send me back to the first screen. When I called United, the Indian dude said I had to check in at the airport, and then asked, "Why did you request an upgrade if you don't have any certificates?"

2. Subway: Endless wait for an E train due to some sort of delays (the station announcements being even more incomprehensible than that old SNL sketch).

3. Subway: Horrifically crowded E train once it came.

4. Subway: Conductor announces "There's a totally empty E train one minute behind us" so I get off to take that one; when it comes, it's just as crowded.

5. Subway: 20 minutes down the line, the conductor makes a barely comprehensible announcement; I deduce that he means that this train is actually going to follow the F line and not the E line to the JFK AirTrain stop, so I have to get off again and wait for another E.

6. Subway: 15-minute wait for another E train

7. Airtrain: Before going through the AirTrain gate, I check my MetroCard: $6, enough to cover the $5 fee. I run it through the gate and it says "swipe again." I run it through again and it says "insufficient fare." I go back and check how much it has: $1. AirTrain ate my money.

8. Airtrain: Endless wait

9. Airtrain: Arriving at the airport, I think I'll be smart by jumping off the train and taking one in the other direction since my terminal is #7 on the list of stops out of 8 terminals, and the inner airtrain line just circles around in the other direction. (See right: going from 1 to 7 on the black line once you arrive is faster than going all the way around on the blue line). I get off at Terminal 1 just as another train is pulling away, and then wait for 12 minutes, more than enough time for the original train to have made it to Terminal 7.

10. United Check-In: Middle seat in back. Attempt to transfer upgrade request to 15000-mile regular fee results in waitlisting.

11. JFK: Attempt to walk through duty free store to get to food court (saving 5 minutes in walking) denied by meanest woman in New York who demands to know my destination. I say "The food court?" "No, sir," she says, angrily, sounding like Fran Drescher on steroids, "where are you flying to." "Canada?" I say, and she demands to see my international ticket before I even set foot in the store. I take the long way to get my $18 sandwich and soda.

12. United: Gate agents start announcing upgrades after they start boarding, meaning you can either wait in the boarding area and lose out on overhead bins, or give up your possible upgrade. I board.

13. United: Flight sits on tarmac for 30 minutes.

14. Dell: Laptop battery dies just at climactic scene of movie I'm watching.

15. United: Flight arrives 20 minutes late.

16. SFO: It's 11:35, but I know I can make it to the BART station for the last train (at around midnight) since I know the secret passageway by gate 70 to the international terminal. I run all the way only to discover this passageway is, for some reason, locked. This requires me to backtrack all the way around tot he main security entrance, then go the long way to the International terminal and BART station.

17. Life: I arrive at BART station to watch last train to SF pull out of terminal.

18. Taxi: No taxis at International terminal. Taxi attendant guy seems stoned. Wait 15 minutes.

19. Taxi: Taxi arrives, driver seems stoned. Bugs me with lots of questions about my flight. As we speed up 101, suddenly I see flashing lights behind us: that's right, my taxi gets pulled over for speeding.

20. Taxi: The kindly officer comes up to ask for registration and proof of insurance, and lo and behold, it turns out our driver does not have proof of insurance. He spends a really long time making a show of looking for it, then makes a lot of excuses about how it's not his car and it's not his fault. When the cop comes back with the ticket, there's another endless back-and-forth where the driver says the address is wrong on his license, and then gives another wrong one to the officer, then corrects himself again. The officer finally exhorts him to "stop wasting this young man's time." Tell that to the whole fucking world.

Random Thoughts 1: Love, Love is Boring, So Much More Boring Than Hate

2008-05-09T16:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, I haven't really had much to say lately, so for the 7 people who might actually read this blog, sorry. I have a couple good excuses: Coachella, which I talked about here, and here, and here, and then some vacation time that ended up being work time in a hotel room, and some SoCal gigs. Plus, more seriously, what the hell is the point of this thing? I set up this blog as an easier way to post some updates while I was on tour in Europe, but I've never been a fan of the "here's what I had for lunch today" blog universe, and have always restricted my real website to a) music I've made, b) gigs I have, c) press or amusing encounters resulting from my music or gigs, and d) my self-indulgent year-end best-of lists. Oh yeah, and e) adorable kittens. Then I've got the Riff to jabber about cultural products of interest (although I don't get the feeling that's really working out so well either; I know there are staff members of the Mother Jones who consider any and all arts coverage to be a waste of time for their esteemed magazine, and moreover, I feel a little bit at sea being their only real arts-and-music-focused columnist, since I can't exactly be a one-man Idolator. Well I could, but not with my schedule, and not for what they're paying me). So, what is this little blog for, exactly? Just stuff I'm thinking about? Writing practice? Linking to the Emergency Party Button? Oh, I know, howabout complaining?

I suppose there's little to complain about: I'm making money, doing fun DJ gigs, seeing the world; I've got my health (and, so my doctor says, a record-low cholesterol level--who knows how that happened, I mean, it's not like I'm shoving steak into my mouth for every meal but I'm no vegan... maybe it's all the oatmeal, scrubbing away my veins like a crack team of those Scrubbing Bubbles I used to love). But you know what bugs me? People. Humans. "Bugs" isn't the right word: Confuses, howabout. I just don't understand people. People you think are friends mock you bitterly behind your back, friends who proclaim their absolute adoration of you also do so much annoying crap you can barely stand to be around them, people take your attempts at the tiptoe-iest "I feel x, y, and z"-style expressions of disappointment as huge insults, and guys you go on dates with, and say lots of nice stuff on the dates, never call you again. Okay, sure, that last one is probably another expression of the rule I tell all my friends who date men: "Guys Say Stuff." Indeed we do, and sure, I've been as guilty as anyone in feigning interest in, I dunno, fashion or business or cats, just to try and, um, how do you say, "score." I mean, hell, I've even managed to go on dates with guys who turn out to be Republicans, and I'll pretend that doesn't make me hurl just long enough to maybe get some makeouts. But, I thought I could see through it, myself, right?

Really, I just realized I don't know how to "woo," in the gay world. I find the Neil Strauss "game" stuff fascinating, actually -- as someone who's never had a natural ability to chat people up, and stumbles horribly at small talk or official meetings, I'm attracted to the idea that there are lessons, rules, things you can practice that can at least open the door for someone to pay attention to you. Unfortunately, The Game's heterosexual focus makes it kind of inapplicable. For instance, Strauss talks about managing to snag Britney Spears' phone number after engaging her in a conversation about what he calls "Chick Crack," i.e., horoscopes and personality tests and Cosmo-style gobbledygook. Unfortunately, I just don't get the feeling that would work on most guys, even gay guys.

Then there's one of the most basic tenets of The Game: act disinterested, give backhanded compliments, be, for all intents and purposes, a bit of a jerk. Sure, I can do the jokey "yeah you're okay looking" wink-wink stuff, but I'm not sure how much farther I can take that. Say you get "in there," you get the date, you get the nookie, and you really like the guy; what next? How do you keep up the "jerk" facade without just completely losing touch? Do you have to just wait for them to call you? When can you just be yourself, and call up and say "Hey, I'd like to see you again?" Because clearly I'm doing that all wrong, since the answer is generally "sorry I'm out of town," or something. And there's no obvious signs to me that the date went horribly wrong, other than, you know, the flatulence, and the inevitable revelation of my sex-change scars.

Or is it just that no gay dudes are interested in second dates? I mean, at age 37, I'm no spring chicken, and I get the feeling that any guy out there who really wants anything more than a one-night-stand has probably already found it, so maybe by this point there just aren't any guys out there looking for, er, Lurv.

Whatever. Considering how many of my friends spend time complaining about their significant others' annoyingly pointless stories or ridiculous shirts or tendency to treat their lives like an etch-a-sketch and shake away everything when they get a little freaked out, perhaps I should be happy to be single, and as a bit of a loner (and noted curmudgeon) I usually am. But I dunno, I guess it'd be nice sometime to meet somebody I don't feel like I have to fight for/act like a jerk to so they like me/figure out what the hell.

Of course, all this could be moot, since as Pete Burns says, gay relationships don't work:

Burns, 49, who was wed to stylist Lynne Corlett for 28 years, claimed there were too much "promiscuity" in the gay community for civil partnerships to thrive. He told The Mail on Sunday he had been "optimistic" about his civil partnership, but now he says: "I learned the hard way. It's a total joke." Burns said: "I view marriage as a sacred institution. I think two men naturally are predators. Gay relationships are a commercial break, not a whole movie. The relationships I'm aware of, apart from one ... it's as though there's some kind of emotional inadequacy or narcissism, where they feel emotionally inadequate and need more validation, from either a father figure or a mirror image of themselves. I'm not condemning it, I think it needs researching and help. There's a lot of promiscuity in the gay community. I don't understand why they take that union. How low is their self-esteem? One's on Hampstead Heath meeting men, the other one's hiring rent boys. Surely marriage is throwing anchor and saying, 'This is where I'm staying, I've made my choice and this is all I want because I've been on the up and down escalator, through the revolving door and I want to stand still.' That's what I expected."

He added: "I don't know what goes on in many heterosexual marriages but I know mine was 28 years.

Of course, the fact that you dressed up as a magical geisha and used the mystical sword of Fantasia to confirm your wedding vows wouldn't have anything to do with how this didn't work out. Word:

Actually, that guy is kind of cute, even with the terrible haircut. Maybe if I put on my geisha dress he'll go out with me? Anyway, you hear this a lot, that gay relationships are intrinsically flawed since they're either some sort of outwardly expressed narcissism or a doomed quest for a father figure or whatever. Well, jeez, good thing there's no creepy parental issues or narcissistic searching for mirror images happening in hetero relationships, am I right? Am I right? Is this thing on?

In fact there's probably something to that mirror theory, but in a less nefarious way: I think you look for someone who mirrors you, but in a way where they seem to have solved questions or answered mysteries you can't figure out; the lucky part is when you do the same thing for them. Of course, the question of how you get them to get over their slow-burning internalized homophobia and alcohol-salved self-hatred long enough to actually see that, that's a whole other question. Not that I won't join you for that drink.

Gridskipper Apparently Hasn't Ever Tried Taking a Cab from LAX

2008-04-04T13:47:00.000-07:00

Gridskipper, the usually pretty-well-researched travel blog that's recently been redesigned around theme maps, just featured a map of restaurants that are supposedly worth a trip outside the airport if you're stranded at LAX for a few hours. Hmmm, really?

We've all been there: you're stuck in LAX on a layover, cooling your heels with a trashy magazine and a bag of chips, when you learn your flight to Phoenix has been canceled because of poor weather in Boston. You're rebooked for a new flight ... in six hours. You'd love to get out and enjoy a little of the city, but fear straying too far from the airport environs. Well, don't fear! In other major American cities, you'd probably be screwed, but thanks to the wonders of urban sprawl, there are tons of great restaurants within shouting distance of LAX. Get out and get a taste of the city — with ample time to cab back and hustle through security — with our handy map.

This handy map includes such establishments as Tito's Tacos and Buggy Whip. Okay, fine, but has anyone at the Skipper ever actually tried to take a cab from LAX? First of all, try finding one: there are only a few taxi pickup spots, and both times I've looked for one there hasn't been a taxi in sight, only a line of doomed-looking businesspeople. Second, and most egregious: for some reason known only to the string-pulling bossman in "Mulholland Drive," there's a $15 minimum for any trips originating at LAX. That's right, $15, even if you only go two blocks from the glowy columns. Sure makes Gridskipper's recommendation of a quick jaunt to the In 'n' Out on Sepulveda look a little ridiculous, doesn't it -- $15 there, $10 back, that's $25 for a $4 meal. The Burger King in Terminal 7 doesn't look so bad now, does it. Plus, how are you going to catch a cab on Sepulveda?

Here's some real advice: fly into freakin' Burbank.

The NY Times Catches Up With My Groundbreaking Trend of Staying in Cheap LA Hotels

2008-03-24T15:37:00.001-07:00

Hey, this guy sounds a lot like me:

There was a time, on my frequent trips to the West Coast, when I used to stay at chic West Hollywood hotels, in rooms furnished with designer bottled waters, vinyl beanbag chairs and all manner of pay-per-view television entertainments. Each morning I proudly strode past fitness rooms, spas and barbershops I never visited, and each night I went to bed contentedly knowing that the hotel bar was packed with the sorts of people who would never give me the time of day.

Now, though, with the slumping economy, such sumptuous amenities are as much a relic of the past as the Brown Derby restaurant. Now when I travel to the West Coast, my center of gravity is shifted miles to the east, away from Sunset Boulevard to a far less alluring side of Los Angeles. I can usually be found at one of several low-cost motels in the city’s Koreatown and Thai Town neighborhoods, where the 101 meets Western Avenue and where glamorous expectation meets economic reality.

I know, reporting on the Travelodge as some sort of post-ironic hipster discovery is kind of ridiculous, but I've had the same experience. Bootie LA brings me down maybe once every couple months, and my hipster lodging of choice was the Standard Downtown. Rates there used to be as low as $119 a night, booked online with enough advance warning, and I felt like a rock star, with the Holzer in the lobby and Jose Gonzalez on the stereo on the roof deck. The minimalist rooms were just my style, and upon returning from the DJ gig, half-drunk, at 3:30am, room service was always available with a very tasty burger and fries. Granted, I was usually spending about as much on the whole deal as I was making at the gigs, but whatever, it was a vacation, right?

But things change. First, no longer having the disposable income of my good old LIVE 105 job means budget concerns are paramount; second, rates at the hotel seem to rarely go below $200/night these days; and third, I've stayed a couple non-hipster places and they're really not so bad. My discount hotel of choice is currently the Comfort Inn Sunset, and at about $90/night, it's not like it's free, but I'm saving money on a whole bunch of other things: parking, for one, which is free, and secured, under the hotel, and late-night room service, whose absence forces me to grab a tasty burrito at one of the late-night joints down the street rather than spend $25 on a burger. The rooms are recently renovated, and while the lights all use the worst, flickery fluorescent bulbs, it's pleasant enough, and the times I've stayed there my room faced the building next door, so no street noise from Sunset.

While I've done some work at the desk like the NY Times guy (and utilized the free wifi), part of the appeal for me is that the no-frills room really urges one to get out on the town. The hotel's location a quick drive from Silverlake means tons of cool restaurants and shops are right nearby, and of course Bootie LA at the Echo is just a few blocks the other direction. Since there's no waiting for a dipshit model-turned-valet to get your rental car, heading out is pretty easy.

I'll be interested to see if the Hollywood-area resurgence (a new W hotel is going in right at Hollywood and Vine) will trickle down to the more budget-minded hipster, and we'll see hotels spring up that are no-frills but, you know, cool. I've always lamented that the fantastic Ace Hotel in Seattle (and now Portland) doesn't have a location in every city: while some people might be put off by the hostel-like "bathrooms down the hall" concept, those bathrooms are spotless, like minimalist white labs, and there's a whole row of them -- I never had to wait, ever, and never felt weird about it. These rooms are still just $99/night. But hey, their website says they're opening new Aces in New York and Palm Springs; I'll be interested to see if they keep the low-price but high-style concept. In the meantime, hello, Comfort Inn across from the donuts-and-Thai-food place!

One More Reason Obama is the Right Choice for Democrats: Nebraska Goes Purple

2008-03-08T14:39:00.001-08:00

I was leaning towards Obama all through last year, but skeptical of the "cult of personality" that seemed to be accumulating around him; Hillary's work in the senate had really impressed me, despite the fact that the Clinton circus drives me up the wall. So, I waited until Iowa, and then I watched his victory speech.

I kind of got a little choked up, and what I realized is that inspiration, in and of itself, isn't something to be cynically tossed aside, like I'd been doing; and that in fact, it's not Obama's otherworldly brilliance that impressed me, but his normalcy. It's almost as if politics squeezes the normalcy out of a person, almost inevitably, but in Obama we have a chance for a politician who's still kind of a regular human being.

Of course, Hillary's actions post-Iowa only cemented my feelings: Bill's disgusting outbursts blew my mind, and her campaign's dismissiveness of all of Obama's wins was bafflingly idiotic. Putting aside my deep reservations about electing a former first lady (are we freaking Argentina?) and the establishment of American political dynasties, that dismissiveness of red (or small) states struck me as reason enough to vote for Obama instead: not only is ignoring, say, Wisconsin a terrible strategy for winning the White House, it also serves to hold down the Democratic slate in other races. It's something Kos calls the "50-state strategy," and it's absolutely essential to overturning the Rove-created juggernaut of solid red states and entrenched 49/49 national splits in national elections, and in breaking through in state and local elections in traditional Republican strongholds. Now, we have some proof of how this might look in the general election against McCain in the fall.

Survey USA has compiled polls from individual states pitting both Clinton and Obama against McCain, and the results are fascinating.

First up, the hypothetical Clinton-McCain matchup:

Clinton ekes out a victory, grabbing both Florida and Ohio, which seems kind of far-fetched to me, but whatever. Now, here's Obama's map:

It's not only a more decisive win, but a more interesting and safer one: he brings it in without either Florida or Pennsylvania. And what, pray tell, is all that stripey business going on in my home state of Nebraska?!

If you're not familiar with the Cornhusker State's strange governmental practices, not only do we have a kooky unicameral legislature, since 1996 we also split presidential electoral votes by congressional district. It's never been tested in the three elections since then, because all three districts (1-Lincoln & Eastern counties, 2-Omaha, and 3-the Western 2/3 of the state) have always been reliably Bushy (or, uh, Dole-y).

But not only does the SurveyUSA Nebraska poll puts a potential Obama/McCain matchup at only 42-45% statewide, rendering the whole state a "tossup" (!!), it actually shows Obama beating McCain in both CD1 and 2: 44-42 in Lincoln, 45-43 in Omaha, compared to Clinton's 31-59 and 30-54 losses in both districts. This would give Obama 2 of NE's 5 electoral votes. Not only is it mind-blowing, considering Nebraska had the 2nd highest margin for Bush in 2004 outside of Wyoming (that's right, more than Texas), but also, strategically, it's rulebook-shattering: it's easy to imagine another close election where one or two electoral votes might make the difference, and if a couple of those might come from Nebraska, all bets are off.

Who knows what could happen between now and the election in November; these points could be completely moot. But I do know that Hillary Clinton offers zero hope whatsoever to rewrite the rulebook about how national elections work in the US, and would serve only to reinforce the same old red state/blue state dichotomy that the Rove strategy has proven to win, every time.

And sure, McCain seems like a good guy, but a) if he appoints another Scalia like he says he will, fuck him, and b) you know for a fact he'll govern more conservatively than he, uh, senatored, considering everybody's watching out for him to be "too liberal," so he'll overreact to the right. Plus he'll pick a far-right dipshit to be his VP and then probably die in office, giving us President Ridge or (shudder) Huckabee. You can respect his war service (and sense of humor) without wanting any of that crap.

New Music: 3face

2008-03-08T14:13:00.001-08:00

Okay, we get it, two-face, three-face. Of course don't forget No Face:

He was super scary but then nice. But really, if you think about it, we've all got way more than three faces, even. Sometimes I'm Mopey Ben, other times I'm Drunk Ben, often I'm Curious Ben, a lot of the time I'm Worried Ben. The one thing I'm not really ever is Party Ben; thus the irony. But I think I could come up with at least seven primary faces, so from now on please refer to me as "7face."

Anyway, I heard this on a Sinden show from Kiss FM I downloaded. This guy may have four less faces than me, but he made a nice song. Actually he made an okay song and then it got a spectacular remix. The Four Tops sample is pretty inspired:

...but mostly I just like those ringing, propulsive chords, like I wrote about over on The Rifferoonie; it's a proper counterpoint to the oddly chirpy sample chorus, intense and urgent, futuristic.

3face, Nasty Jack, Nolay, Scorcher, Tinchy Stryder & Wretch 32 - "Different World" (All Star Remix)

3face MySpace (har)

3face interview

Mexico: Pictures

2008-02-20T19:26:00.000-08:00

Hey look, I'm in Mexico, and here's some pretty pictures.

Shiny balloons apparently drive the Mexican economy:

Cool old falling-down building with wacky graffitos:

Cinco tacos al pastor, plus giganto glass of jamaica drink: 39 pesos (like $3.50)

Must be tacos with an angel, must be tacos with an angel:

Minimetro!

2008-02-08T15:43:00.000-08:00

It's the cutest metro around! You've got to go to Perugia, Italy, to ride it. One hopes the little cars make that Jetsons noise.

Bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi!

Speak Italian? Read all about it here.

And here's a video.

I'm Right About the Zoo

2008-02-02T13:21:00.000-08:00

An article in today's Chronicle kicks off with this sentence:

The San Francisco Zoo is a sad and outdated place, with exhibits reminiscent of what might be found in the Third World or Eastern Europe.

Wow, has somebody been reading The Party Blog? What's different is that their article doesn't just have random impressions fostered by a longstanding hatred of eucalyptus trees (ahem); instead, they have actual experts from around the world checking into what's up over at the zoo, and the picture they paint is pretty horrific:

"There is a lack of animal-mindedness at the zoo," said Peter Stroud, former senior curator at the Melbourne Zoo and former director of the Werribee Open Range Zoo, both in Australia. Stroud, who has 27 years of experience in the zoo industry, said he spent four or five hours at the San Francisco Zoo on Thursday and concluded that it would never be accredited by the latest standards being applied in his country. ...

He said that the concrete chimpanzee grotto was "Third World," that the three polar bears exhibited the "stereotypical behavior" of bored and captive creatures, and that the relatively new African Savanna exhibit, which opened in 2004, did not provide enough shelter for the animals and prompted some to engage in aberrant behavior. The giraffes, for example, excessively lick and chew at their barn.

The zombie SF zookeepers toed the official line while, I assume, whipping baby seals:

"They could not be more wrong," said San Francisco Zoo spokeswoman Lora LaMarca. "Our animal keepers are so dedicated to the care and keeping of the animals. I cannot give what they say a whole lot of credibility."

Right, the senior curator at the Melbourne zoo has zero credibility. Good zombies! Now get back to whipping those marmosets!!

Japanese Hotel I Totally Have to Go To

2008-01-30T19:46:00.001-08:00

It's well known that I like hot water, getting in the hot water, and also eating tasty snacks, perhaps of Japanese variety. Well check out the Fujiya Ginzan profiled over at Coolhunter, it's like the coolest place in the world. Here's their website, and from it I see their cheapest room, which appears to not have its own bathroom (?) is $325/night. Actually not so bad considering food is included and if my own experience at a ryokan is any indication (on a super fun trip with a then-boyfriend, back in the heady, cheap-travel days just post-9/11) that food will be mind-blowingly awesome.

Sigh. I suppose I could go have a bath and then make a microwave burrito, it'll kind of be the same...?

SF Muni So Terrible That Making It Free Would Destroy It

2008-01-29T15:00:00.000-08:00

This from today's SF Gate: a study commissioned by the mayor's office to see how making the San Francisco Muni system free might work has concluded that since the whole system is teetering on the verge of collapse as it is, making it free would probably cause every bus to explode in unison. One might have thought, in the traffic-strangled Bay Area, that increasing Muni ridership might be a priority. Nope. Feel the power:

If [a 50% ridership increase] happened to Muni, which now provides nearly 700,000 trips on an average day, the annual operating and maintenance costs would rise by nearly $69 million. ...In addition, the city would have to add an estimated 267 buses and streetcars to its fleet of about 1,000 at a cost of approximately $537 million. New storage and maintenance yards also would be needed to accommodate the new vehicles. Muni also would have to figure out how to run more streetcars through the tunnels. The consultants warned of bottlenecks and added delays. The system already has problems running on schedule. Muni currently needs an estimated $100 million to $150 million more a year to make the significant service improvements voters demanded in 1999 but have yet to see. Even if the money were available, it would take five to 10 years to purchase the new equipment and expand the maintenance capacity.

Also, the fare boxes house evil miniature demons, with whom Muni reached a delicate detente in the mid-80s; any disruption of the demons could cause multi-dimensional time vortexes and/or mysterious plagues.

Ahem. So tell us, City Controller, don't we want to attract new riders?

City Controller Ed Harrington, a veteran City Hall fiscal watchdog who also chairs a special mayor's panel looking at ways to stabilize Muni's finances, said the notion of free Muni should be shelved because it likely would attract hundreds of thousands of new riders and prove detrimental.

He then unveiled Muni's new "Discouraging Ridership in the New Millenium" program, which will feature off-putting advertisements in bus shelters, increasing the pumped-in urine smells in subway stations, and a new slogan, "Muni: We'll Pay You to Take a Cab Instead."

Argh. Where's the Bay Area on that "worst traffic" list, are we still #2? Jeez, even LA is making huge strides in public transit: can anyone explain to me why San Francisco can't get its act together?

Somebody Tried to Steal My Pizza

2008-01-29T14:47:00.000-08:00

What in the sam hill is going on around here? Last night, after my little motorcycle mishap, my leg was hurting, and I was feeling a little self-piteous, so I thought I'd order pizza for dinner. First let me just say that when you put in your order with Extreme Pizza and then they say "that'll be an hour to an hour and 15 minutes, thanks bye," it's a bit of a shock. You're right up the street, dudes -- are you curing the sausage or something?! But at least they were honest, and in fact, exactly one hour and 16 minutes later, my phone rang and it was the delivery guy downstairs. When I got there and opened the door, I see him coming across the street, and some guy has just run up to him and is about to grab my pizza. The delivery guy is pretty old and is more surprised than anything, and when the would-be thief sees me, he seems to reconsider and runs off. This all took about 1 second, too fast for me to react, I'm standing there a bit dumbfounded. Mr. Almost Pizza Robber has run down and jumped in a car at the corner, and we make a half-hearted effort to run and see if we can get his license number, but don't make it in time and the guy takes off. The delivery guy says "Jeez, I've been doing this six years, and that's never happened." I was like, wow, do you think this is another sign of an impending recession?

Anyway the pizza (sausage and mushroom) was fine, and the side spinach salad was excellent, it was like $22 and I gave the guy an $8 tip, since it was all a little freaky.

I Hate You, City CarShare Drivers

2008-01-28T18:18:00.000-08:00

I've been a bit baffled by the stupidity of these supposedly new-fangled "car share" businesses that have sprung up in San Francisco. City CarShare allows you, for instance, to have access to cars for a $10/month fee, then pay $5/hour and $0.40/mile for use of a car. That means, according their website, a day trip to the Monterrey Bay Aquarium would run you $71.20. That's not including the $30 non-refundable application fee (and a $20 late fee!), although it does include gas. Compare it to, what did they used to call this business? Oh yeah: renting a fucking car. I had some errands to do this weekend and a DJ gig that I had to bring CD players to, so I booked a 3-day car rental at Hertz two blocks away. Using the United promotional rate which I think anybody can access on United's website, it cost me $61, for 72 full hours. Filling up the tank cost me another $12. Granted, I had to park it at night, but still, the "CarShare" is about the same cost for 1/3 the car. Dumb?

But tonight something happened to me that made me consider another CarShare negative I've never thought of: putting a bunch of scaredy-cat inexperienced drivers behind the wheel. A purple City CarShare Scion slammed on their brakes and whipped around for no reason right in front of me tonight when I was on the motorcycle, and I had to brake a little hard, and slipped on wet oily pavement and went down. It was probably better than hitting them -- like you really think consciously in a split second, although I wasn't even going that fast, they just stopped and turned around in the middle of the street like idiots. It was pretty clear I was fine since once I pulled my foot out from under the bike I was able to get up and pull the bike back up, but the CarShare kids had taken off by then without so much as a "how-do-you-do." Thanks for checking to make sure I was alright, assholes.

Of course, I'm fine, other than a sore hand, a bruised hip and some asphalt embedded in a bloody knee. Plus a good pair of jeans, all ripped! The motorcycle's a little bunged up needs new turn signals on its right side, but all in all it could be worse.

The City CarShare site brags that "95% of applicants are approved" like that's something to be proud of. One wonders if bringing that acceptance rate down to 90% would have eliminated tonight's dipshits?

Brr

2008-01-24T01:00:00.000-08:00

Ugh. I had a few days with no major projects or DJ gigs so I thought about taking a quick vacation, but in the interest of saving money (and what will probably be a bit of a rough tax bill coming up soon) I decided against it, and instead I thought I'd just have a "home based" vacation -- not stress about work or anything all weekend and take it east. San Francisco cooperated with freezing temperatures and miserable, spitty rain, and it doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. Sure, the rest of the country has it worse with their -20 wind chills, but still, ugh! So, even though Coachella's lineup is a bit underwhelming, I can't wait to go down to the desert. Three months to the day...

The San Francisco Zoo: Run by Satan's Zookeepers?

2007-12-29T14:13:00.000-08:00

As usual, I headed to Nebraska for the holidays, and when I got to my parents' house, one of the first things they asked me was if I'd heard about the tiger that killed somebody in San Francisco. Er, what? Well, all I had to do to find out about it was turn on the TV, since the story dominated newscasts all through the holiday, until the assassination of Benazir Bhutto knocked it off the screens. While the thought of being attacked and killed by an escaped tiger at your local zoo is horrifying enough, the way the zoo handled things makes me wonder if the place is being run by a satan-worshipping cabal of sadistic freaks, secretly presided over by Dick Cheney, who's writing all their public statements.

First of all, check this out: zoo employees initially told police that the reports of an escaped tiger that had come in to the 911 center were the "ravings of a mentally unstable person" according to the Chronicle. When fire crews and police arrived, the zoo was on "emergency lockdown" and employees prevented them from going inside. Now, wouldn't you think that police and fire crews would be exempt from an emergency lockdown, and that in fact, you might actually want them to get involved with the emergency? Zoo officials apparently panicked during the crisis, telling police that up to four tigers had escaped, until somebody thought to count the ones still in the cages.

In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, of course, everyone is demanding to know how a tiger could have escaped, and zoo officials are insisting the tiger's enclosure is surrounded by a 20-foot-wide moat and 20-foot-high walls; accusations that the victims "taunted" the tiger or that foul play was involved started to hit the press. Word leaked of a shoe and/or blood found inside the tiger's enclosure, like that was proof the victims were somehow responsible. Then came this quote from zoo director Manuel Mollinedo that absolutely blew my mind:

"Somebody created a situation that really agitated her and gave her some sort of a method to break out," Mollinedo said. "There is no possible way the cat could have made it out of there in a single leap. I would surmise that there was help. "A couple of feet dangling over the edge could possibly have done it." Sources said pinecones and sticks that were found in the moat might have been thrown at the animal. Those items could not have landed in the grotto naturally, they said.

Let me get this straight: you're saying the victims lifted themselves up over the wall, dangled their feet towards the tiger, who then was able to jump up and grab those legs, since the wall had been perfectly calibrated as being only a foot or two beyond the reach of the animal's leap; then, using superhuman strength, the victims were able to pull the leg-dangling taunter and the attached tiger back over the wall, so the tiger could run free? Is this guy for real? And yeah, sticks and pinecones, there is no way those could ever be found in a zoo exhibit. Besides, don't you know tigers use those sticks to build exit ramps from their cages?

Well, if it did build a ramp, it didn't have far to go: now we have reports that the tiger enclosure's wall was only a little over 12 feet high, which is below national standards. Whoops. Police chief Heather Fong says that no shoe or blood was found inside the enclosure. Oh, sorry. An employee of a photo booth at the zoo said he couldn't believe anyone would taunt the tigers, saying "It's pitch black around here by 5 p.m... I would have been scared to be anywhere near that cage the way they're describing it."

Anyone who knows San Francisco knows that the area of town by the zoo is kind of a "land of the lost." It's perennially fog-bound and cold, and salty air from the nearby ocean seems to have sucked the color and life out of the surrounding buildings. It's where the last, supremely creepy Doggie Diner was, and the ever-present eucalyptus trees give the air a sickly sweet, moldy smell. Smack dab in the middle of this area is the zoo, and I've never been there: it gives off a vibe of being the black hole of misery in the center of this galaxy that time forgot. The dysfunction--and, really, sheer evil--of zoo officials in this situation seems to confirm all these images, like the employees are calcified zombies, barely aware of how to deal with the outside world. Zoos in general are kind of fucked up, and putting a bunch of tropical animals in the middle of this freezing, miserable, gray area seems completely insane, an idea straight out of the 1800s, when animals were treated like objects for our amusement.

Ultimately, whether or not there was any "taunting" of an animal at the zoo is completely beside the point: animals shouldn't be able to escape. Teenage rowdiness does not condemn you to a horrible death at the hands of a tiger. Zoo officials' response and statements implying otherwise are shameful.

I'll say it: shut down the San Francisco Zoo.

Video from the Gettin' Euros Tour: Liege, Belgium

2007-12-21T17:26:00.001-08:00

DJ Klax, a lovely young lady I met in Liege (who was kind enough to interview me after interviewing DJ Zebra for a local radio station, even though my French was terrible and it was pretty clear Zebra was the star) has posted some cool videos of Zebra's and my sets at Soundstation, and while I have to say it's kind of boring to watch me since I'm just, you know, playing CDs, you can kind of get an idea of stuff I was playing, and hey, look at that, some people in the crowd seem to like it (remember it was 3am when i was on). Most awesomely, she made a crazy intro screen using my "Gettin' Euros" logo and a giant euro sign, which by the way Nako is threatening to have T-shirts made of.

Party Ben at Soundstation Liège (Belgium) 03

Do people get the semi-ironic way in which I'm playing "Pump It Up"? Actually I've lost track of whether anything I do is ironic or not any more...

Also, if you watch Video #1, you can hear a point where my goofy mix of "Jump Around" with Queen and GHP's Queen/AC/DC mix suddenly ramps up about 5% in speed, and as you can see I'm not touching the right CD player, it just did it by itself, I swear. This is the kind of hardship I was dealing with all over Europe people! But thankfully there was a 3rd CDJ so I just abandoned that one.

More Pics from the Gettin' Euros Tour: Poland

2007-12-21T12:48:00.000-08:00

DJ Spox sends over some lovely b/w shots of the gig in Warsaw, although a couple of them look kind of weird since the red light makes everything red look white, like say, the red & white Polska scarves. Go here to see them all, and here's a couple good ones:

Party Ben and a couple fans post-set:

Duze Pe, Spox and myself, celebrating Poland's qualification for the Euro 2008 championships with scarves:

Dancing peeps:

United Airlines Operating New Time Machine 747s

2007-12-17T23:32:00.000-08:00

As a frequent (and frequently frustrated) flyer on United Airlines, I'm a subscriber to their "E-fares" e-mails, which let you know about last-minute cheap fares. Usually it's pretty slim pickings, with $200 flights to Boise or Wichita, but tonight I got the e-mail and clicked over to see where they were offering inexpensive tickets, and got a bit of a surprise: some e-fares allow you to travel back in time three or four days.

That's right: "Depart anytime Saturday December 22nd, return anytime Monday December 17th or Tuesday, December 18th." Also, E-fares entitle you to change your velocity without a force acting upon you, take actions without equal and opposite reactions, and know both the position and velocity of quantum-scale particles. Buy now!

Good Times at French Kiss

2007-12-17T15:02:00.000-08:00

Although I didn't play the Lil' Louis track of the same name and I totally should have done that. Anyway, French Kiss is a new Sunday night electro/b-more/indie/retro/mashup club over at the lovely Club Pink on the not-so-lovely stretch of 16th between Mission & S Van Ness, although it's gotten slightly lovelier with the addition of Bar Bambino, which looks incredibly inviting but I'm afraid I'm not that big a fan of Italian food. Too much cheese. Actually I would have tried it anyway but it closed at 10pm on Sundays and I wasn't over there in time.

So, at French Kiss, Mykill and Forever 21, the promoters and resident DJs, kindly allowed me to do a guest set there last night and it was tons of fun: I got to fully indulge my Baltimore/bassline house/freestyle/Herve/Sinden addiction and also played a bunch of my own more electro-leaning mashups including some new items. I think my playlist went something like this:

Party Ben - "Callin' Up the Pieces" (Baltimore Remix)
Party Ben - "Rocky Done Gun" (MIA vs. a bunch of stuff)
Diplo - "Shake it Out"
Amy Winehouse - "Valerie" (Sinden & Count of Monte Cristal remix)
Larry Tee ft. Princess Superstar - "Licky" (Herve Goes Low Remix)
Shannon - "Let the Music Play"
TEPR - "Minuit Jacuzzi" (Data remix)
Party Ben - "Pump Up the Beat" (Simian Mobile Disco vs. Technotronic)
Party Ben - "D.A.N.C.E. (Like a Record)" (Justice vs. Dead or Alive)
Party Ben - "Busy (Like a Hurricane)" (Crystal Method vs. Scorpions)
Bart B-More - "Killing It"
Switch - "Brick n Lace"
Herve - "Cheap Thrills"
Pimp Daddy Supreme - "Thrillershake" (Michael Jackson vs. Yin Yang Twins)
Payroll - "Daft Prayer" (Daft Punk vs. Bon Jovi)

There were a bunch of things I wanted to play but didn't get to, alas, like I can't believe I forgot to play the new "Beeper" mix. But anyway, for a Sunday night there was a really great crowd and I ran into like 4 people I knew completely randomly, i.e. they didn't know I was going to be there or vice versa. Mykill and Forever 21 are really good DJs and it's cool to meet people on the same musical tip as myself: obsessed with crazy new sounds but with a soft spot for the cheesy oldies. Although Mykill told me it was okay to play my Scorpions mix and it kind of cleared the floor. But the "Thriller" megamix at the end, boy do people love "Thriller."

Anyway, it's a great time, check it out if you're antsy on a Sunday night, and thanks to the guys and fellow guest DJ Shaun Slaughter who kicked off his set with the super duper "All Through the Night" by Escort, whose muppet-tastic video still gives me the giddy giggles. Let's watch it again, please can we?

I Just Figured Out

2007-12-17T14:55:00.000-08:00

...that the title of Radiohead's album, In Rainbows, is most likely a reference to the title of the Boards of Canada song "Roygbiv," (as in, "Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Indigo Violet") whose bassline and general spaciness they appropriated for "All I Need."

Am I just slow? Did everybody else already know this?

Boards of Canada - "Roygbiv" (fan video)

Radiohead - "All I Need" (fan video)

SF: I've Got to Admit It's Getting Better… But Is It Enough?

2007-12-16T14:35:00.001-08:00

The always-smart John King has an article in today's SF Chronicle about the changes taking place in Golden Gate Park, with new, challenging architecture and a revamped landscape, and he rightfully lauds the architects and planners for creating an "innovative" public space:

The Music Concourse district also demonstrates what San Francisco should be - a city open to new ideas even as it protects what's of value from our past.

The de Young Museum is a near-masterpiece of a building that's both surprising and oddly site-appropriate, and the new Academy promises to be a fascinating interpretation of "green" architecture. It's an inspiring spot, and it got me thinking: San Francisco has had more than a few of these good things come to fruition in the past couple of years. Octavia Boulevard, despite its flaws (why did we need the elevated freeway to go all the way to Market street?) has allowed a neighborhood previously strangled by on-ramps to flower, and it will only get better as (hopefully) interesting architecture fills the newly created vacant lots. SOMA is exploding with high-rises, and again, while most are part of block-wide mega-projects and decidedly out of touch with the mottled, Jane Jacobsian approach that creates truly livable neighborhoods, it's a damn sight better than parking lots, and the Rincon Hill plans that include a newly two-way Folsom Street look fantastic. New architecture is breaking with SF's usual aesthetic conservatism, especially in SOMA, with examples like the crazy new Federal Building and the more subtle but perhaps more successful Plaza Apartments filling in the blank spaces in the neighborhood. Don't forget changes from the last few years like BART to the airport and the new neighborhood sprouting up around the ballpark. These are all great moves, executed well (if not exactly perfectly), but is it all enough?

I hate to be a Euro-snob, but having just returned from a trip across the continent where I saw all different cities and their approaches to urban planning, transit, and architecture, it's hard not to get the feeling that San Francisco can never be as truly livable as even 3rd-tier European hubs like Warsaw or Munich. Take Warsaw for example. With barely a rudimentary knowledge of the language and a vague sense of the city's layout, I was able to buy a week-long tourist pass and figure out the transit system in a snap. Trams go in pretty straight lines, they're fast and plentiful, the routes are clearly marked and not shared with cars, it's all on the honor system, lots of trams even have cool LED sign thingies (see photo at left) that show you the upcoming stops. Contrast this with our recent experience with DJ Moule and DJ Zebra when they came over to DJ. They stayed with me and on their free day we wandered around the city; at one point we were downtown at the cable car turnaround on Powell and Moule wanted to go to Amoeba in the Haight. Easy: the N-Judah goes right there. We go down into the Powell Street station, I go up to a machine to get change for the Muni, and when I turn around I see Moule and Zebra, wide-eyed, wrestling with a BART ticket machine, trying to put their money in the ticket slot. And these are guys who are familiar with complex public transit systems! But think about the complexity of what we were about to do: use the BART machine to get $1.50 in quarters, but don't actually get on BART, go to the Muni entrance (if you can tell the difference), put the quarters in the turnstile, but then don't forget to take your ticket when it pops out since the damn trains become "proof of payment" after they leave the subway, then go down into the station and go to the far 20% of the platform that will actually be in front of a tiny 2-car tram, and then wait for an "N" to show up, which you can hopefully squeeze onto. It will glide happily through the tunnel until it lurches and stops, and then inches cautiously up out of the tunnel on a goofy ramp, then the driver hops out at Church Street and who knows, gets a coffee or something, and after he comes back and starts it back up, you rumble along at about 3 miles an hour, as cars dart out in front. It's like this was planned by a sadistic madman, it takes 20 or 30 minutes, and we were basically going to places almost adjacent to the line.

Now that the truncated and basically useless Central Subway plan looks like a go, one shudders to see the ways Muni will fuck this up: one potential plan (picture at right) has a northbound line running under 3rd Street and a southbound line under 4th Street, both of them featuring more awesome ramps to the surface around Townsend that you know will run about the same speed as the one behind Safeway. Another plan has the trains making a 90-degree turn from 3rd to Market and then a 135-degree turn to head up Stockton. Again, why build the damn thing if you're going to strangle it with poor planning? Even in the best case, it will only go from mid-Chinatown to the ballpark.

Further down the road (and probably less likely at all) is the California high-speed rail plan, with a fancy new station planned for the currently hellish Transbay Terminal bus depot at 1st & Mission. Even if this gets built, and even if they do spend the zillions of dollars to tunnel from the current Caltrain station to this new position, it's a full-size SOMA block to Market street! It doesn't even connect directly with BART or Muni!!! Did anybody think, "Hey, if we're going to spend 100 bil on this thing maybe we could tunnel the extra block to make the damn thing actually usable?"

The video is pretty cool though:

I have theories about why San Francisco has so many built-in flaws in its urban structure, and continues to make the same mistakes: the dominance of the Democratic party machine has created a corrupt one-party system, for instance, without a credible opposition to spur real action. That's just an idea. But either way, even when San Francisco dreams big, like with the new rail station, it dreams wrong, and in denial about the massive flaws in the plans, that, like the clusterfuck at Church and Duboce, will crush the souls of hapless commuters for years to come. Will San Francisco ever see itself with enough clarity to make the changes necessary to become a truly world-class city, or will its problems (traffic, lack of housing, etc) ever become so grindingly awful that they force a wake-up call? It's hard to see it happening in my lifetime.

Au Revoir, Paris

2007-12-04T13:03:00.000-08:00

And bye Europe... for now.

Below: Me and DJ Zebra hamming it up on top of the Arc du Triomphe

My two all-to-brief days of respite in Paris have almost come to an end, and while I'm sad to be leaving the EU, I do have to say I'm ready to see my apartment again and go get a nice burrito (and of course some f***ing antibiotics). It's been a wild ride across Europe and there's already talk of some sort of summer reprise of the tour, where I could possibly hit some of the locales I missed this time (hello, Berlin, London, Dublin, and, er, Switzerland), but for now, the Gettin' Euros Tour has been a great success as far as I'm concerned. Thanks to everybody who helped out, including Duze Pe, DJ Spox, El Barto & Liam B and the crew at Forma, Prozak and Balsam in Poland, Ashley in Prague, the Soundstation crew in Liege, Bootox, Frank, Schmolli, Morgoth and Comar in Munich (and Comar just in general), and of course Zebra and Moule in France as well as the crews at 4 Sans, Le Kleo, Elysee Montmartre and Grand Mix and the kind folks at Radical Productions. And of course thanks to everybody who came out and said "hi." We now return you to your regularly scheduled website.

Gettin' Euros 2007 By the Numbers

2007-12-03T15:04:00.001-08:00

Flights and inter-city trains taken including r/t SFO-Frankfurt: 18

Estimated # of people who saw me DJ: maybe 3500?

# of "I Saw Party Ben on the Gettin' Euros Tour 2007 and All I Got Was This Lousy CD" CDs I threw out to the crowds: 97 (I have 3 left)

Items lost:
- One (1) pair black gloves, in a cab in Warsaw
- One (1) stocking cap, somewhere in Prague
- One (1) scarf, somewhere in Cologne
- One (1) brown Jedi robe, Elysee Montmartre, Paris
- One (1) CD, "Johnny Greenwood is the Controller," that I gave the sound guy to play after the doors opened at Elysee Montmartre and then forgot to get back

Number of times I visited H&M to replace lost or soiled items: 4

Number of times I laundered the single pair of jeans I wore the entire trip: 1 (thanks Zebra and your washing machine)

More Pictures: Paris

2007-12-03T10:25:00.000-08:00

Cidric Rivet, the official photographer for the Paris event, has some nice shots posted up on his site here, and here are a couple highlights:

Pictures: Paris

2007-12-03T08:33:00.001-08:00

Pictures from the Paris gig are starting to roll in... Thanks to Licette for forwarding these, she's got about 30 posted up over here, and here's a couple highlights:

Video: Party Ben Kenobi vs. Emperor Zebra

2007-12-03T06:05:00.000-08:00

Found on YouTube already!

Elysee Montmartre, Friday, November 30

Part 2, apparently:

Quick Post-Tourcoing Wrapup

2007-12-01T17:40:00.000-08:00

Left: Line out front of Grand Mix in Tourcoing

Well it was the last gig of the Gettin' Euros tour and it went pretty well, although again, Europeans splitting surprisingly early. There was a big line down the street when we came back to the club from dinner at 9pm, and we traversed the crowd to get back inside. Zebra and I had a fun back-and-forth set to kick it off, Moule did an amazing job as always, Zebra had a kickass set with some local musician guests, and then I did a kooky set with an extended Baltimore-style mix towards the end. Unfortunately the crowd had thinned somewhat even during Zebra's set, we learned later that the local metro closes at 12:30 and with recent police crackdowns on drunk driving people are reluctant to drive home after gigs, I guess. So, definitely less people than the Paris event but still an enthusiastic crowd, and after playing Snow Police I thought I'd let the last song on the tour be one by my buds Adrian & Mysterious D, so I popped on their "Don't Stop Believin' in Planet Rock" and waved goodbye.

Thanks Europe, for the euros and everything else... more pics and stuff coming soon.

Video from Bootie Munich

2007-12-01T14:15:00.000-08:00

Yes that's me speaking German. And I'm using the word "speaking" loosely here, but what I'm saying is basically "Good day Munich, I am Party Ben Kenobi. I come from a faraway galaxy... with the name San Francisco." But tonight the force is with Munich, yada yada, you get the idea, Star Wars, yeah I'm really running this thing into the ground aren't I.

Thanks to FM24 for the vid.

More Paris Pictures

2007-12-01T10:03:00.000-08:00

Stormtroopers in my dressing room

Zebra's big show

Me and DJ Electrosound in front of the venue after the show

On the Place Pigalle walking back to the hotel after the show

Paris: The City of Love

2007-12-01T05:37:00.000-08:00

Left: the crowd immediately after my set at Elysee Montmartre, technically Moule had started DJing at this point but I'd ended like 30 seconds before and they're totally holding their hands up because I'm taking the picture

Okay France, you're back on my good side, although I could still use some antibiotics. After some disappointing gigs (and, honestly, disappointing performances on my part) in Toulouse and Bordeaux Wednesday and Thursday, we got into Paris at around 4pm Friday and I went right to the dressing room to rework my set. I made some new versions of a couple things on my laptop and got a few new ideas on how to structure things. Zebra's band started to arrive along with the guest singers and five storm troopers (!!) for the Star Wars intro. It was an early event, 6:30-10:30 (with another event starting at midnight so the times were totally set); doors opened at 6:30 and when I headed up to the stage at 6:45 the place was already about 2/3 full. I started off pretty slow with some classics and stuff, and people were into it but just hanging around really, i mean I would be at 7pm too. It was basically full by around 7:15 or so, and I started to speed it up, then went over to the microphone and said "Je sais que c'est un peu tot, mais nous pouvons nous amuser, oui?" (I know it's a little early, but we can have fun, right?" The crowd erupted into cheers, and the volume level of the cheers took me back a little bit. This place is as big as the Fillmore, bigger perhaps, and from what I understood they oversold it, and I think at the peak attendance was in the 1600 range. So just a little cheer is pretty loud. Things went really well and I got a big cheer for the Wiseguys/Grease combo I hadn't really even planned on playing, and then at the end during the big Dr. Who On Holiday finale, I went up to the front of the stage to hand out some of the CDs I made to give away, and this roar comes up from the crowd that's kind of terrifying. People bush to the front like I'm handing out, I dunno, euros or something. I throw some CDs out but can't really reach people so I say "fuck it" and jump across the gap onto the hands of the crowd, just about falling back into the security pit at first but finally making it over for a quick crowd surf, before running back up on stage and taking that picure. Paris, you're awesome.

Moule went on and proceeded to do another great set, but my part wasn't over: I was reprising my role as Party Ben Kenobi in a battle with Emperor Zebra at the beginning of Zebra's set, and I was supposed to do the thing we did at Bootie in October where I interrupted MC and French radio personality Laurent Lavige, with a whole dramatic thing of "i sense a great disturbance in the force," all of which I had to memorize in French and try to deliver with my horribly stuffed up nose. Thankfully I know Mr. Lavige from doing an interview with him back in 2005 so he was very helpful with making it all go off without a hitch, and I know there's about 200 videos of this around so when I find some I'll link them here.

Actually hold on lemme look on YouTube.

Okay nothing yet, but I know there are videos out there so, really, just wait til you see this.

Zebra's show was really outstanding, a true achievement, but more about that later as I have to run and grab a train to Tourcoing.

Malade en France

2007-11-30T03:13:00.001-08:00

Greetings from the Toulouse airport where our EasyJet flight to Paris has just been delayed, allowing me to buy a quick WiFi session. The first two dates of the French tour have been a mixed bag -- Wednesday night in Bordeaux, I had the job of kicking off the night at midnight, directly after a hip-hop/reggae/drum 'n' bass fusion kind of combo, so I bore the brunt of the stand-and-stare-with-arms-folded crowd, and I'm not really sure what French people like to be honest. Cheese. And I thought I played enough of it! The set went okay I guess but I like to have a more dynamic kind of audience experience and like to see more people dancing, but again, it was the nature of the gig I think. In Toulouse last night we had more of a club environment but I had to DJ so late there wasn't much of a crowd left. Of course, DJ Moule and DJ Zebra are carting along their guitar and bass so of course they're the rock stars on this tour, and I'm just, you know, the American mascot. Assuming we make it to Paris, the gig is kind of early tonight, 6-10pm, and I kick it off at 6:30 which I assume is the moment of least pressure (or least attendance) but I'm still a bit worried -- the French gigs have been the toughest of the tour. What I wouldn't give for Warsaw right now!!

Also I'm still pretty ill, so if anybody knows of any secret cures for the flu, I'm honestly willing to try anything. How does so much gunk come out of one man's sinuses?!

Not to complain. I guess I'm complaining. Sorry. I suppose it's all about expectations -- I approached Poland and Germany with like zero expectations and so of course they exceeded them. France, honestly, I was hoping you'd be a little nicer.

But in any event a lot of the French crew I know will be at the Paris gig tonight, and of course it's an incredible honor just being included. I just wish I didn't have a bright red nose for what is apparently a 4-camera video system to capture...

More Munich Pictures...

2007-11-27T02:11:00.000-08:00

...are here.

Thoughts on France

2007-11-27T01:21:00.000-08:00

First of all, let me just establish that I'm pretty ill, actually miserably so, with a painful hacking cough and a runny nose that's used up most of the tissues in DJ Zebra's house. While I'm thankful this has come on at a point in the tour when I have a free day (and don't have to travel) it does suck to be sick at someone else's house. You feel like a disgusting bag of germs and you can't exactly give your kind hosts a break from your face by taking a long walk in the cold. Plus, there's Paris out there which would be nice to see, but again thankfully I have a few extra days planned at the end of the tour next week for sightseeing. While I'll probably miss today's interview with France's international radio channel, my main concern is feeling better by tomorrow when we have to take off for Bordeaux. Apparently one can secure antibiotics without a prescription in France so we might try that later today. Anyway, sorry Zebra (and Zebra's family) and sorry anybody who wanted to hear my terrible attempts at speaking French on the radio today.

Speaking of Zebra's family, my French lessons were put to an unexpected test upon arrival here Sunday night when I came into the apartment to discover Zebra's parents, here for dinner. They were of course incredibly gracious about my bumbling French but wanted to know all about San Francisco and the presidential candidates and stuff, and I realized sadly that I don't really know how to say "Kucinich saw UFOs at Shirley MaClaine's house." During dinner, the TV was on, and a couple things kind of threw me that I couldn't really express at the time: one, the weather came on during the newscast and everyone turned to see what conditions would look like for the tour. What I was noticing, however, was the weather lady had on the skimpiest black silky cocktail party dress and makeup and hair done up like for an awards show. She'd pose dramatically (seductively, even) as she pointed at the maps: "sunny and 10 degrees celsius in the south of France Thursday, mon cherie." Later, a movie came on and at one point I look up to see a naked old man in complete full frontal display who has apparently walked in on a young couple in bed accidentally. Nobody at the table batted an eyelash.

My dad woke me up at 2am to alert me to a new round of French riots, and yes, apparently two teenagers drove a motorbike at high speed into a police car (an unlicensed bike, and without helmets) last night in the northern suburbs of Paris and were killed; people in the area have some hazy accusations that the police didn't do enough to help the kids or something, but most reports are saying they were aiming right for the police car. Not to be unsympathetic to the racism and xenophobia faced by France's ethnic and relligious minorities, but it just seems like setting the McDonalds on fire after something like this doesn't make a whole lot of sense. But, you're angry and feel powerless, so what do you do, I guess. Anyway, it's all very far away from here so nobody worry about me, and I promise that if I feel like setting a McDonalds on fire I'll wait til I'm home.

More Stuff About Munich and Sausage

2007-11-26T09:26:00.000-08:00

Left: sausage breakfast with the guys

Finally: a second to sit down. I'm here on Air Berlin's cheap-ass flight from Munich to Paris—I think it was $60, and I only booked it like a month ago—and it's the first second I've had of relative calm in about 30 hours. That last post below was written in a hurry in the last 15 minutes before we had to leave for the airport, and the drive was kind of hilarious: Comar's flight was leaving at 4pm and mine was scheduled for 5pm, so we just went together, but of course we were running late and Munich's airport is a bit of a ways outside the city (make a note of that if you're traveling—45 minutes by train, 30+ by car). And you know how everything goes wrong when you're in a hurry? Well, first, Alex (DJ Bootox) had forgotten to get gas so we were way below the red line, and even his well-engineered VW wouldn't have made it. We stopped for gas, and when we went to get back on the autobahn, I noticed something odd: were we on the right onramp? Nope, Alex had taken the wrong turn and aimed us right back at Munich. Plus those autobahns don't have a ton of exits and turnaround points, dontcha know. It actually turned kind of good for me since where we eventually turned around was the exit for the new Allianz stadium, a bit of an architectural marvel that changes colors depending on the team playing--red, white or blue. When we drove in last night in the misty rain, the whole sky was glowing red in the distance and I was like, "what's on fire? Austria?" But no, it was just the stadium, switched on because the soccer team was playing, bright red lights turning it into a kind of giant glowing spaceship.

In fact, I saw lots of interesting architecture in passing from the autobahn: of course there's the Olympic stadium and grounds (anybody see that Munich movie?) and the BMW World center, a sci-fi-looking thing whose massive roof appears to float over huge glass windows, sending off a tendril-like bridge that spirals down and expands into a weirdly organic entrance. And yes, the autobahn is speed limit-free in parts: I noticed the speed limit signs (light-up LED screens over each individual lane, of course) said "120" at points (that's km/hr) and then later would say "120" with a line through it. I asked if that meant the speed was lower now and they said no, that's where the no-speed-limit zone begins. Apparently Germany is planning to impose country-wide speed limits within the next couple years--interestingly enough, for environmental reasons.

Right: In Germany, mustard comes in tubes

At the airport, I got a sandwich and a tea at the only snack bar in the gate area, and of course everyone is getting big mugs of beer. When I ordered tea the woman looked at me with a mixture of shock, pity, and disgust, and asked me what I assumed was something like "are you from the planet Pluto, where beer is poison, because otherwise there is no excuse not to imbibe our Hofbrau and you have deeply insulted our country and will not be allowed back." I gestured half-heartedly at my scratchy throat and sniffled a little, but she just shook her head and threw a teabag in a cup.

Anyway, I can't emphasize enough how awesome the Munich party was, and while I know the list of DJ names involved sounds kind of like a sci-fi villain convention (Bootox! Schmolli! Morgoth! Comar the Barbarian!) they were all really fantastic. I expected as much from the latter three since I'm familiar with their mashups, but Bootox I'd never heard spin and his wacky EQing and segue-ing reminded me of my own goofball style. Huge thanks to them and everybody involved and all the mad Germans who came out.

Coming up, France...

München ist Verrückt

2007-11-25T03:51:00.000-08:00

Left: the early crowd at Bootie Munich

Grüß Gott (good day) from München, where the beer and the Bavarian pride is as strong as ever. I'm recovering from Bootie Munich last night which was completely insane, and I was unfortunately unable to enjoy it as much (and as long) as everyone else since I've finally succumbed to the dreaded cold I'd been afraid I would catch. Cough.

But let's begin back in Liege, Belgium on Friday night where the Soundstation was one of the most professional clubs I've ever worked with. It's an old train station and every once in a while a train will rumble over on tracks that are directly above what's now the club's entrance. The dressing room is perched three rickety flights of stairs above the main room, and evidence of the building's old purpose is everywhere. It's more of a performance venue, unfortunately for me, since I prefer to be in a DJ booth and don't like being up on a huge high stage with bright lights on me, but my co-DJ Zebra revels in the limelight, and during his headlining set before mine from 12-2am, he jumped around the stage and sang along with his (mostly French) tracks. I'm not that kind of DJ, plus I don't speak French well enough to shout cool stuff at the crowd. It was a little rough, since even during Zebra's set the uber-hip young Belgians were more interested in standing and nodding than dancing around—honestly, it was a kind of rock-feeling venue so that's what people do. So my set from 2-4am was a little less interesting to watch but hopefully interesting to hear, and surprisingly there were Party Ben fans in the audience requesting some of my mashups, which ended up helping me out since I would have forgotten to play "Walking With a Ghost in Paris." My camera died right as we'd arrived at the club so of course I don't have any pictures but a lot of people there had cameras so I'm sure some will turn up. Anyway, we headed back to the hotel (the adequate Liege Holiday Inn) around 5, where I slept three hours, and then it was time to get up and head back to the train station.

The Thalys train wound through the frost-dusted Belgian and German hills for about 90 minutes until we were back in Koln, and then I headed out to the airport for the flight to Munich. Bootie Munich was put together by a couple crazy German dudes, and I'd like to reiterate that none of us at Bootie in SF have necessarily pursued the international "franchises;" Booties Paris and Munich came to Adrian & Mysterious D to see about starting their own versions of what I guess is our now-legendary club in the Bay Area. So these guys are, shall we say, wildly enthusiastic. I was in town with just enough time to go to dinner and experience the real German beer hall: the Augustiner, one of the oldest such establishments in Munich, and one which is apparently off the beaten track enough to avoid most tourists. The place was cavernous and completely jammed with beer-swilling, pork-knuckle-devouring Bavarians. Solidly-built women would barrel through the crowd with trays filled with giant mugs of the eponymous lager, and if you happened to inch even slightly into their path they would just shove you out of the way with a guttural shout of "Auf d'seitn!" ("off the side!"). It was, in a word, awesome, and the pork knuckle and dumpling was melt-in-your-mouth fantastic.

But soon enough it was time to head over to the Munich club, located in a kind of complex of night spots out by the train station, with about 30 or 40 bars and clubs all in the same zone. We still weren't sure when (or if) people would show up, but by about midnight the place was pretty jammed, with some of the attendees tracking me down to let me know they'd driven in from different places just to see me, which was of course humbling. It was a hopping party with a great crowd and tasty drinks, but I had started to feel under the weather on the train to Koln and was both exhausted and somewhat ill at the club. I actually felt terrible but didn't want to worry the promoters or let down all the fans so I was trying to put on a good face, and I sucked down "Cobras," the local version of Red Bull, to try and wake up, a bargain with the devil since I knew I'd feel worse the next day but what are you going to do? Thankfully, whether it was the caffeine or the infectious energy of the crowd, I jumped back into the old routine, running out of the back room with my light saber and Jedi robe and giving the crowd a " Grüß Gott" and my typical silly intro which I'd memorized in what I'm sure was barely-comprehensible German. The crowd went nuts and only proceeded to get crazier: Germans are completely insane! Fellow DJs Alex, Schmolli, Comar, Morgoth and the whole crew were drunkenly jumping around the stage and hollering my name, and they seemed to think that despite my exhaustion, my set went off pretty well. The crowd responded a little less enthusiastically to their specially-made German mashup than the Poles did: I'd put together a track using '80s German duo Modern Talking's "You Can Win if You Want" with Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy," and I think the shock of hearing this quintessentially German hit mixed with a current smash was a little much for everybody, and the energy level of the room seemed to go down a little bit as people's jaws dropped. But thankfully I got them back with some of the Baltimore-style stuff I've been playing lately, and a drunken DJ Comar told me afterwards it was one of the best sets he'd ever seen.

Left: Frank from Bootie Munich, Austrian DJ Schmolli who's also a resident in Munich, myself, Paris' DJ Comar, Berlin's DJ Morgoth, and Bootie Munich mastermind/madman Alex (Bootox)

I had used up all my energy on the set, and when I finished at 3:15 or so, I crashed, and could barely stand up. The party was still going strong at 5am when I told the guys I needed to catch a cab back to the house and go to sleep. This morning they told me people were still there until 7am, with new arrivals paying the entry fee way into the 6am hour. I wish I could have stayed to witness it but I needed the rest.

Alex put together a breakfast of sausages and pretzels (I know, I know!!) and now Comar and I have to head to the airport to catch our flights to Paris. But yeah, especially because I wasn't sure if I would be able to stay upright for the whole thing, my DJ set here was another one of the highlights of my career—a crowd that up for it is an honor to play for.

Auf Wiedersehen, Köln...

2007-11-23T08:48:00.002-08:00

Above: Köln's "Dom" catching the rays of the setting sun

...et bonsoir, Liege!

Above: the Santiago Calatrava-designed (and still unfinished) Liege Guillemins train station, and by the way, when I mentioned I was excited to see it to the guys from the club who met me there, they were like "yes, Calatrava is good, but it does not fit here." They kind of have a point, and perhaps a word of warning to New Yorkers?

How Much Longer is This Tour?

2007-11-23T03:17:00.000-08:00

Left: Köln, photo not by me

Happy Thanksgiving (yesterday) everyone, I'm here in Köln, Germany, a place I chose to fly to from Prague based entirely on the cheap German Wings airfare--$60 one-way. It's a quick 90-minute train ride to Liege, Belgium, where my gig is tonight, and thankfully, the German train strike was quick and efficient, German-style, and I was easily able to reserve a seat thanks to the very helpful and fluent-English-speaking lady at the Deutsche Bahn office, who had a nose ring, by the way. It came to about 30€ ($44) round trip from Koln to Liege and then back to the Koln Airport on Saturday where I'll catch a flight to Munich. I'm starting to feel a little like everything in Europe is within what Americans would consider commuting distance: if you can't fly directly to your preferred country, fly to the next-door country and hop the train, and it'll take you basically the same amount of time it takes to grab BART to the airport in San Francisco. By the way, Prague got much more enjoyable on my last day, and I met some more people who restored my faith in American expats, two English teachers who were very sympathetic to my run-in with the Transit Police and said they'd also tried to run the first time they got accosted, thinking they were being robbed. We had phenomenal Indian food at a random place in Prague's outskirts, randomly enough.

But now, I'm in Germany, and I kind of forgot how tough it is to be alone in a country where you don't speak one word of the language: a flustered inability to make yourself understood is far more anxiety-inducing when you're standing there by yourself. Köln is lovely and about 15 degrees warmer than it was in Prague or around Poland, enough so that I've been leaving my scarf in the hotel room. Speaking of the hotel, the CityClass Europa, directly adjacent to the main train station and the cathedral, was 48€ ($70) for a single room, and while there were a lot of nicer-looking places in the 80-90€ range, I figured the $40-50 savings would be worth it, but jeez, it's pretty bad: smaller even than my tiny room in Frankfurt, with a built-in twin bed that wasn't quite long enough for me, non-functional WiFi, and a distinctly orange tint to the water when you first turned it on. But with even an espresso, tiny juice, roll and yogurt at the free-WiFi coffee shop I'm writing this from coming to 7€10 ($10.43), you take your savings where you can.

Perhaps it's the holiday or the fact that I'm under the aforementioned language blackout, but I'm kind of pooped. My feet are sore from walking around, my one pair of jeans I've worn the whole trip are starting to sag unpleasantly, and I could really use a burrito, pollo asado, especial style. But coming up in a few hours I won't have time to dwell on my petty annoyances, as things will start to ramp up again: the gig in Belgium is set to be pretty large, Bootie Munich should be wild on Saturday, and then it's off to France where from what I understand the transport strike has pretty much wound down, merci Dieu. I'm completely baffled about what to play for the Belgiums, and unlike my mini-hit in Poland, I don't have any tracks that explicitly address, say, the country's current governmental crisis or anything. Also, hopefully they aren't too perturbed at me for rooting for Poland over them in the recent Euro 2008 qualifying match. Sorry guys, but when in Warsaw…

So, what do Belgians throw when they hate your set? Waffles? Mmm, airborne breakfast cake.

Prague, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

2007-11-21T09:09:00.000-08:00

Left: the funicular that, ironically enough, brought me up, and not down

Well, I suppose I deserve it: there's no better way to invite Larry David-style annoyances than to gloat about how lovely a place is on your blog. Today started out okay with a visit to the Veletržní Palác, Prague's 20th century art museum (where I discovered the amazing František Kupka), but went downhill from there. First, I'm in the subway about to get on a train, and a weird-looking dude grabs my shoulder and says something in Czech. I shake my head and try to get out of his reach. He jogs up after me and says something again, and I keep trying to move away—is this just an aggressive panhandler like I'm used to in San Francisco, or is somebody about to take out their anti-Bush sentiments on a random American? In about three seconds, a policeman appears, and I'm relieved: they'll get this weirdo away from me. But the cop goes right for me, getting in front of me and hollering at me in Czech. What did I do? What's happening?! "Ne razumiem!!" I wail in Polish, hoping it's also Czech. "Ticket!" says the policeman. Ohhhh. It's my first transport ticket check! If you aren't familiar with much of the rest of the world's transit systems, a lot of them operate on the honor system, where nobody checks you when you get on a train but there are supposedly random sweeps for scofflaws. I dutifully bought a 7-day pass in Warsaw but never once saw anybody get checked, and thank God, I had my Prague 3-day pass in my wallet here. I'd read in a guide book that Prague employs plainclothes officers to check people, but jeez, isn't this taking it a bit far? Although, again, perhaps I'm just so used to dealing with crazies on the SF Muni that I'm a bit jumpy. Anyway, I showed the guys my ticket and we had a good chuckle—they were very apologetic. After another annoyance—the whole point of my trip on the subway at that point was to go visit the Prague historical museum which turned out to be inexplicably closed when I got there—I came back to the same subway station and saw about six similar scenarios playing themselves out near the entrance: old women with pleading voices, sporty-jacket dudes searching their pockets, all surrounded by the same policemen and plainclothes officers. So, if somebody grabs you on the subway in Prague, you might not necessarily want to run.

Right: view from up by the castle zone

Other annoyances today include a pastry stand that wouldn’t sell me a small pastry since those are not sold by the piece but only by the 100 gram weight and they wouldn't just weigh one, and the equivalent pastry (a blackberry thingamabob) did not exist in the large pastry section for individual sale; the Deutsche Bank that took me 20 minutes to find in order to make an ATM withdrawal since BofA has a no-fee deal with them was temporarily unable to dispense cash, and the funky café the guidebook recommended for breakfast seemed to have vanished into thin air. Also, I think I found a general flaw in what seemed like Prague's unassailable façade, and the flaw is us: annoying American expats. I met a couple people last night, friends of a friend here in town, and I'm just going to go ahead and talk about them: they were snobby and rude in this way that I'm theorizing may have something to do with long-term life abroad, although perhaps the seeds were there already. When I met them I was exhausted and I tried to apologize and explain that jet lag (and my wonky schedule) is kicking my ass unexpectedly on this trip, and the guy pauses and says to me, "Do you complain about being tired in America?" What the f***?! Later I see a sign on a garage we're walking by that says "NEPARKOVAT" and I laugh, since that was just starting to be an imported Americanism in Russian when I lived there, and I ask the gal if that's a real Czech word at this point or if the writer was being funny, and she rolls her eyes and says, "It means 'not to park' or 'no parking'." Oh does it now. Perhaps the fact that I'd just pronounced the word correctly might have clued you in that I'm familiar with it? They had this way of making sure to flaunt their knowledge of Czech and only grudgingly explaining the random insider-y stuff they dropped hints about in the conversation. Later in the evening the guy turns to me and says, sneeringly, "jeez, I'm just so out of the loop, so tell me, what's that Britney Spears doing?" Which I suppose could be innocuous but in this context (and tone of voice) took on an air of "you silly home-based Americans and your petty concerns." Anyway, I'm not really worried about them seeing this since they didn’t give one whit about my tour or what the hell I was doing there, and didn't ask my DJ name or anything. But if they do see this, sorry guys, but you were a little rude.

Left: old town square

Boy, I really hope I wasn't that much of a jerk when I lived in Russia and met Americans who were kind of clueless about the place. I suppose I probably was, but I was also like 22 and thought I was the only foreigner to ever truly understand the Russian soul. Sigh.

But even with all these annoyances, Prague, I still love you: I had an awesome lunch at the Café Louvre of French onion soup, a glass of the new Beaujolais, a towering club sandwich, a raspberry caramel sundae, a local fizzy water and a frothy espresso, and the total price: 300 koruny, or about $15. Plus I freakin' smoked afterwards, right there in the restaurant!! Also the city continues to dumbfound me with its beauty: there's this spot by the river where some buildings are built out over the water on a pier and the water cascades underneath into a kind of lagoon by the Charles Bridge, and it's just about the coolest spot in the world. Like on much of this tour so far, I can't help but think to myself, "this would be really awesome if it wasn't freezing."

"Polska Boyz" Now Available...

2007-11-20T11:05:00.001-08:00

...back at the regular website, remember that one?

Prague: Cheap and Easy, But Also Cute

2007-11-19T23:42:00.000-08:00

Like a fantasy date! Well, after riding a wave of Polish good tidings, it finally came time to say goodbye, and so I headed out for Chopin airport to hop on Czech Airlines for a flight to Prague. A DJ gig didn't quite come together in Prague, which really has turned out to be a bit of a relief -- after the madcap tour of Poland, (and before the madcap tour of Belgium, Germany & France) I could really use a few days to recoup, and it turns out Prague is the perfect place to do it. First of all, my friend Ashley is living here, a former LIVE 105 employee (like myself) who came over almost a year ago, currently working at a fancy crystal and home-decor store. She knows her way around and last night I got my first whirlwind tour of the city, and despite all I've heard and seen about Prague, it, like Krakow, is still a bit overwhelming, with its winding streets and hidden passageways. What's awesome, though, is that it's cheap.

Below right: snack aftermath

Poland was surprisingly expensive: for instance, yesterday I went to Starbucks clone "Wayne's Coffee" for lunch before I left for the airport, and my sandwich, a small dry roll with salami and cheese, was 15 Zloty, which at 2.5 zl to the $ is a whopping $6, and the espresso was like 8 Zloty, which is over $3. I'm not sure if this is a recent development due to general European exchange rates pummeling the dollar into oblivion, but still, it was a bit annoying: aren't places that feel kind of ex-communist supposed to be bargains? So Prague's cheapness has turned out to be a crazy surprise. Dinner last night at an amazing multi-level cafe (whose name I forget, sorry) which included spicy toast, croquette appetizers, a cabbage salad, two entrees including my pork stuffed with cheese and olives, and two glasses of wine, all came to about 560 czech koruny, which at about 5 cents to the koruna, is around $28. For everything! Our glasses of totally tolerable Czech wine were 32 czk each, and yes that's $1.50. My hotel, the amazing Miss Sophie's (which is part hostel and part hotel), where my beautifully modern room with custom metal furniture and an awesome glassed-in walk-in rain-head-shower thing, I booked at 1450czk/night but when I showed up they charged me 1100czk/night, which is just around $55. It's hard to believe that there's anywhere left where Americans can use their rubles so effectively, but here it is.

Below: the astronomical clock in the town square, and the awesomest thrift store in the world which is right next door to my hotel

I'd also heard there was grumbling (and general Eastern European dourness) on the part of the local populace about foreigners, especially loud Americans, and to expect unfriendliness, but again, totally not the case: everyone's been incredibly nice and only mildly smirking at my pathetic attempts to try out some Czech, which is only 35% like Russian as opposed to Polish at around 60%, so in other words I'm not getting it right.

Back to Poland for a moment: Fellow DJ on the Polish leg of the tour Liam B sent me this video of my Party Ben Kenobi entrance in Krakow although you can't see a damn thing and it cuts off right before I get on the mic. Come on, Liam, learn to run your camera!

Also check out a gallery of pics from the Krakow gig here, including some highlights like this one of P.B. Kenobi or this one of regular Party Ben wielding the light saber while Duze Pe whips up the crowd.

Poland Update: Krakow & Warsaw

2007-11-18T06:27:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday afternoon in Warsaw and I'm finally back in reach of a wifi signal, and more importantly, I have a few minutes to write some things down. It's been a phenomenal couple of days and I'm not sure where to begin, so let's just start at the beginning, grabbing a train to Krakow on Friday afternoon.
Left: Scene from a Polish train

The Poland leg of this little tour has basically been put together by DJ/MC/promoter/musician Duze Pe, who along with cohort DJ Spox have a whole variety of musical projects, and they both accompanied me on all the dates; I'd corresponded with them via e-mail before the trip but hadn't met them until my arrival here and thankfully both of them are awesome and hilarious and speak pretty fluent English. Anyway, we piddled around on Friday and went to a Georgian (as in Tiblisi, not Atlanta) restaurant and just about missed the Krakow train, a 3-hour express from Warsaw's central station. About halfway there I looked out the window into the dark Polish landscape only to realize that the ground was in fact covered with a thick blanket of snow.

Below: Krakow at night with reflected chandelier

Our arrival in Krakow was overwhelming. Warsaw, with all its luxury hotel updates, still feels like a rough, modern city, hampered by Soviet-era infrastructure. The train station in Krakow was similar, bare and concrete, but then we emerged into the connected mall and another world: a brand-spaking-new luxury shopping establishment, filled with fancy brand-name stores, under a glittering skylight, putting San Francisco's new megamalls to shame, and packed with Saturday night shoppers. Leaving the mall under its glowing colored glass exterior, I got my first glimpse of Krakow, and it was jaw-dropping, covered in about a foot of snow, a fairy tale of ancient buildings and glittering lights, cobblestone walkways filled with people. The walk to the nightclub was like an assault of beauty, something amazing around every turn: the snowy park ringing the city center, an ancient city wall, the central square. But there's no time to linger, we have to get to the club and start to get set up.

Below: Party Ben banner outside Prozak in Krakow

The city is a real tourist destination for Europeans, especially Brits apparently, who take advantage of the favorable exchange rates to get rip-roaring drunk and roam the streets hollering like Amy Winehouse at the MTV Europe awards. As the night wore on, and the club started to fill up, there was clearly a high tourist contingent, and probably mostly regulars at the venue who didn't really know who I was or anything, but that didn't mean they weren't totally up for it. The venue itself, a winding two-story labyrinth built into the basement of an old building, was stunning, and our cavernous dancefloor was totally packed. I pulled out the Obi Wan getup which people seemed to enjoy, and had a really fun set where I tried a bunch of new stuff, as well as the good old standards that had the crowd singing along. After my set I went upstairs only to realize they had been piping the music to an upstairs dancefloor almost as big as the first, jammed with people. The night lasted until about 4:30 am, at which point we were put up in the club's own apartment on the 4th floor of the building, accessible through two winding staircases and a tiny elevator, and outside the double-paned windows the city sparkled and the first trams of the morning rumbled by.

Let's not get romantic about it though because after about 5 hours of sleep it was time to get up and head back to the train station to return to Warsaw. Sorry, Krakow, but I'll be back, I'm sure.

Back in Warsaw, I'm told an interesting bit of news: Poland's national soccer team is playing Belgium that night in a qualifying match for the Euro 2008 championships, an event whose importance is second only to the World Cup and which Poland has apparently never qualified for. The game would be shown out at our club immediately preceding our event, and we were all a little nervous: if they lost, would people even feel like having fun? Well, we needn't have worried. Poland dominated the Belgians and cinched a spot in the finals with a 2-0 victory, and the place erupted. I later found out people had poured onto the streets all over the city, chanting "Polska, Polska."

(Below: Moment of Polish victory)
Out at our club (Balsam, part of a rehabilitated complex of old army barracks in which the writing of German soldiers can still be seen on the walls), things started to pick up around 11, and by the time I went on at 12:30, the place was packed, the giant disco ball swinging wildly. I had a bit of a rough set – a drunk guy came up and started bugging me and threw me off, and I made some technical flubs, but managed to recover. I'd been given a soccer scarf to wear during the set, which I sported proudly, and as my set built up to a frenzied finale, Duze Pe thanked me and described for the crowd the mashup I'd made of the classic Polish band Kult, which I proceeded to play as my last track. Let me just say: if you're a DJ, and there's any way you can plan your set to immediately follow a massive soccer victory, and then play a track you've made whose lyrics repeat the country's name over and over, and you have a scarf you can hold over your head with the name of that country on it to incite the entire crowd to sing along, and then you grab a bottle of that country's local vodka to take a big swig of it to the crowd's clear approval… that wouldn’t be a bad way to end your DJ set. It was mayhem. My only regret is that my camera, set next to the cold window, fogged up too much for the pictures to be anything but a white blur, but other people had cameras so hopefully there's video somewhere. I left the stage and was immediately set upon by people wanting autographs and pictures, some of whom had just caught the CDs I'd thrown out to the audience, and some of whom actually knew who I was and gave me embarrassing compliments. Anyway, a real highlight of my life as a DJ, and while it was clearly just riding on a wave of soccer victory euphoria, hell, I'll take it.

Below: Party Ben poster at the club in Warsaw behind serious condensation -- it was hot in there!

In a bit of a daze I stumbled to the front of the club for some air and called a friend back in San Francisco to shout (incoherently, I'm sure) about Poland winning and I had the scarf and Polska Polska! The night ended around 5 and I collapsed into bed, turning on the TV to see what looked like a Polish Sally Jesse Raphael hosting talk show on which the topic seemed to be, well, gay people, although a subtopic might have been involved which I didn’t understand, since the descriptions of each of the guests said "gej" and then a bunch of other stuff. It might have been "gays with terrible fashion sense" because they were all wearing giant goofy sunglasses and had weird hairdos, perhaps in an attempt to remain anonymous?

Today I have to go buy gloves since I left mine in the taxi last night, and we'll all go have a celebratory meal; tomorrow morning: Prague, and converting Zloty to Koruny!

Oh, and Jay-Z...

2007-11-15T19:28:00.001-08:00

I was wayyyy ahead of you.

Płock: Pwawesome!

2007-11-15T18:31:00.000-08:00

That's funnier if you know Płock is pronounced "Pwotsk." Or maybe not. Ahem. Anyhoo, yes! Just got back from the first gig of the Gettin' Euros Tour, and while I got Zlotys instead, it was still great. A little context here: this gig was the last one finalized -- after setting on venues in Warsaw and Krakow for Fri. & Sat., we just filled one in for Thursday night at a smaller club in this city about 90 minutes drive west of Warsaw. I had no idea what to expect, and besides I'd been having an annoying day, with somebody stiffing me for about $10 in change and not realizing it til I was back on the tramway (dargh, unfamiliar coinage!) and still feeling perturbed with myself about the Bis set, yada yada. So, here I am, heading west of Warsaw in this crazy country to a city whose name I can't even pronounce. Pwonounce. What the hell am I doing? Would anyone show up, would they be nice, and have they heard of Lyrics Born?

Well, yes, yes, and oddly enough, yes. (Answer to that first question still to be determined). The venue was small but great, with a bar area in front and the medium-sized dancefloor area in the back. When we got in around 8:45 there were a smattering of people (as well as posters announcing my arrival with a kind of disconcerting skull motif, am I a death rocker? Plus that's supposed to be "Mash Up Your Life"; "For Life" sounds like, I dunno, an anti-abortion bootleg party. But no matter.) and by about 10 the place was hopping, with everybody responding really well to the opening DJ's stuff. When I went on at 11:30 I didn't do the full "Obi Wan Kenobi" drag since I was a little nervous about it, but I did pull out the light saber to start "Galvanize the Empire" with. Anyway, a really great response, and people sang along to a whole load of the songs, and surprisingly it got completely nuts when I launched in to what I thought might be a bit of a challenging set of sped-up Baltimore-style beats including the Lyrics Born mix you can hear on my Myspace page and some other new stuff. Of course it wasn't without technical errors -- I mistook the "pan" dial for the "bass" dial and when the speakers were shaking I tried to turn it down, and was actually just turning it all to the left. Derrr. But I figured that out quickly enough.

And yes they were labeled in English, I'm just dumb.

Special note to DJ John, whose "It Takes Two to Kiss" got played 3 times during the night: I played it in my set, not knowing that the opening DJ had played it, and then as we were leaving the DJ after me puts it on. "Hey, DJ John, again," I said to DJ Spox, one of the opening duo who rode with me. "Oh yeah," he says, "he's my favorite, and 'It Takes Two to Kiss' gets played all the time here. Why doesn't he make more mashups?" "Well, I dunno," I said, "I'll ask him," feeling like I'd just said "I'll check with Brangelina about getting you a kid."

Anyway, a great night. A whole bunch of people had heard of me and came up to express their positive feelings for my productions in halting English, to which I would respond with a hearty "chen-kwee" ("thank you," yes turns out it's Borat language). Thanks to Club Forma and everybody who came out, nice to meet you all. Not too many good pictures though, since I was busy, you know, DJing and stuff.

Tomorrow, heading off to Krakow by train and not sure when I'll be back in Internet range, probably Sunday.

Look, Party Ben's on the schedule

These nice ladies were singing along with everything.

Weird sign at the gas station on the way back. Put on your best Pterry the Pterodactyl voice and say: "Why no PB?"

Pierogi, Barszcz, Underground Cafes

2007-11-15T00:48:00.000-08:00

In the midst of my frustration at the radio set last night, I forgot to mention a couple good things: food and drink. First up, I had been demanding Polish cuisine, especially pierogi, the wee dumplings that are a lot like the buttery pelmeny I adored back in Russia. So last night Marcin ("Duze Pe"), one of the guys helping book the Polish leg of the tour, took me out for pierogi, and in a very weird coincidence, the restaurant ended up being one I had walked right by and even looked at their menu. In fact, it's on the left in this picture right here from yesterday. I had turned down this street in my wanderings, almost as if drawn there: It's like I have a sixth pierogi sense. So anyway: yum. I got a kind of garlic/spinach/cheese filled thing, and then a big steaming thing of borsch, or "barcz" or whatever it is here. Plus: kompot, syrupy fruit drink! The restaurant itself was just a couple small tables with a window into what looked like somebody's kitchen at their house, and the adorable little 3- or 4-year-old girl running around the place added to that feeling. Of course it wasn't without international incidents: after all the salty borsch, I went up and asked for a glass of water, proud that I could say it in Polish; they asked me something in return I didn't understand so I just nodded. They hand me a thick glass cup and I go to take a drink and recoil in pain: it's boiling hot. Marcin is like "Yeah i heard them ask you if you wanted it hot but I didn't know if you understood." I was like, why would i want hot water?

Afterwards we walked back down the main street in Warsaw's historic district, past the presidential palace with news crews parked outside, and Marcin goes "oh yeah let's go to this bar where I know people," and we duck into a stairwell I would never have noticed in a million years to find the coolest little underground dungeon of a hipster hangout. "Indeks" it was called, and with its multiple tiny little smoke-filled vaulted-ceiling rooms and a tiny stage for performances, it was exactly my image of underground Warsaw. Since it was before the radio set I was desperate to wake up and only indulged in a sludgy coffee, but still.

Anyway I forgot to take pictures of either of these places (I'm terrible about that) so here's a picture of the sun coming out this morning from the hotel window.

Polish Radio 1, Party Ben 0

2007-11-14T14:29:00.000-08:00

To anyone listening to my live set earlier tonight on Radio Bis: I'm sorry. If you weren't listening, I'm glad. But to all of you, let me explain. I did in fact do an interview during the hour previous to the mix, but I didn't get a chance to look at the CD players until about a minute before I was supposed to start the mix, and there was a bit of a problem: one perfectly functional CDJ-1000, and one completely shot-to-hell Numark CDX. The cue and search functions didn't work right, and sometimes the CDs wouldn't register when I put them in, requiring one to turn the thing off and on again. When it actually read the CDs, I'd have to just start the tracks at the beginning and speed them up manically to try and get them to the right intro point and match it all up... needless to say, it kind of sucked. Of course I had a whole bunch of complicated mixes planned--it's a radio station, what could go wrong? So, after the first couple major mixing flubs I just stopped trying to beatmatch with that CD player and would just start the songs. Sigh. I suppose it's comeuppance: I was just talking to the TV crew that filmed my arrival and interview at the radio station that I use CDs because laptops are unreliable. Touche, great god of laptops! You have taught me humility.

The tracklisting, such as it was:
Party Ben - Boulevard of Broken Songs (2007 Crunk Mix)
Party Ben - Galvanize the Empire
Party Ben - Pump Up the Doorbell
Party Ben - We Will Jump Around (with Go Home Productions - Rock In Black)
Party Ben - Callin' Up the Pieces (B-more Remix)
Chemical Brothers - Star Guitar (Party Ben's a Big Bright Shining Star Remix) (with Ludacris - Stand Up)
Party Ben - The Way I Keep Me Hangin' On
Obvious Productions - Standing In the Way of Your Friends
Party Ben - Somebody Rock Me
Party Ben - Wild Thing / Hustlin' / Feel Good Inc + Justice (no name for this)
Party Ben - Rehab (Can't Help Myself)
Party Ben - Tender Umbrella
A+D - Deceptafreakon
Party Ben - Boyz in Polska (Kult vs. MIA)
Party Ben - Dr. Who on Holiday (with Freedom Intro and Mega Outro)

Well, anyway, the staff at Radio Bis were very nice and they all seemed appropriately surprised by the track with Kult, a Polish band from back in the day. Thanks to host DJ Lexus and everybody at Bis, and again, sorry the mixing sucked.

Top: me in front of the Polskie Radio building.
Below: Duze Pe (who's basically organized the Polish leg of the tour), DJ Party Sucksalot, and Bis host DJ Lexus.

Gettin' Euros 2007, The Video: Chapter 2: Warsaw

2007-11-14T06:14:00.000-08:00

These videos have to be pretty short due to limited camera memory (and super slow upload speeds) but that's probably for the best since they're pretty dopey.

Much better are some still photos, here of of Warsaw's Stare Miasto (old town) area. I'll post more of these on my Flickr site when I'm back or have a better connection to the intertubes.

Warsaw: Second Impressions

2007-11-14T01:14:00.000-08:00

Last night, after a few welcome hours of afternoon shut-eye, I decided to venture out into the Warsaw wilds in search of an ATM, some form of snack, and perhaps a phrase book, since the only Polish thing in the whole gigantic language section at Borders in SF was an ancient-looking dictionary. I stepped out of the brightly-lit hotel into a bit of another world: trams barreled down the center of wide, Soviet-style boulevards and a bit of drizzle was intermittently falling out of the dark sky. Directly adjacent to the hotel, the street crosses a train line that's only partially underground, and the glimpses of the rickety train and poorly-lit platform below were oddly nightmarish. Flashing back to my days in post-communist Russia circa 92-94, I start to get those where-am-I-going-to-find-food-today jitters, but right across the street a line of restaurants and shops fills the first floor of a series of apartment blocks, and there's a bank right over there too, whose ATM dispenses 100 zloty to me without any problem. Hmm, 2.5 zloty to the dollar, that's kind of tough; you divide by two and then, uh, add some? Or subtract? Alls I know is: it's not Euros, and that can only be good.

Left: not my picture, i didn't take my camera with me last night since it was, you know, dark.

My walk towards the center of town takes me past the Palac Kultury i Nauki, the Soviet building that was a "gift" to Warsaw after World War II; it's in the same style as the gargantuan Stalinist gothic fantasy buildings that dominate Moscow in a foreboding "Batman" kind of way, but here, possibly because of the neon decoration and a sign for what appears to be a movie theater, this one seems far less threatening. Walking along the street, I come to an intersection that doesn't appear to have any crosswalks, and then I notice that what I thought was a subway entrance is actually for the good old, well "perekhod," another Soviet indulgence that I kind of like: elaborate tunnels under the streets filled with small businesses and restaurants. I note the kebab and sandwich stalls for future reference.

Emerging on Marszalkowska street, there's an inviting line of stores, like your H&M and Benneton and stuff; I wander along to find Empik, a kind of Polish Virgin Megastore with albums and books and a 3rd floor café facing the Palac. It's after 9pm and not much is open but Empik is, and after some searching I find a tolerable phrase book, and go grab a hot chocolate in the café. Super-stylish young women are giggling over a laptop at the table next to me, and KT Tunstall is on the house stereo. But old habits die hard, and at about 9:40pm, a deafening basso voice rumbles out of the speakers, informing patrons that, from what I can gather, the store is closing at 10, please make your purchases. It's so loud it's hard to concentrate, and after it runs for about 3 minutes, I realize it's on a loop, repeating over and over, to drive us stragglers out of the store. I do not think this would be tolerated in America, but maybe I'm wrong.

I go to buy the phrasebook as the store shakes with admonitions to approach the cashier. I'd already noticed the little "put your money here, don't hand it to me" tray when I bought my hot chocolate, another thing I remember from Russia, but the Voice is distracting me so much that I just hold my 20-zloty note out to the guy, who gives me a quick but pity-filled look and points at the tray.

I emerge from the store, my head still rattling with admonishments to "cobirat' do kassu" or something, and the world is transformed: snow is falling in giant, wet, fluffy flakes. I feel like maybe taking the tram back to the hotel but I don't know which number to take, and besides, the guidebook says that while you can buy tickets on the tram, there's no guarantee the driver will actually have them and if not you can still be fined, which seems like an invitation to an international incident, so I walk back to the hotel through the falling snow, collecting on my jacket, and every once in a while landing right in my eye with a wet splortch.

Back at the hotel, I finish work on the Polish-themed mashup I'm making for the mix on Bis as well as a new mix of a secret thing I'd just completed for an upcoming multi-producer Chemical Brothers bootleg album project being arranged by Electrosound (stay tuned). Finally I start to get excited about the mix; funny how it is, and no wonder I make these mashup things, since I get so bored after playing songs once or twice that I just can't help but mess around with them, and then my nervousness and dread I get before almost any live set turns into can't-wait anticipation. I wanna play this Polish thing and see if Poland freaks out!!! We'll see: could we be on the eve of another international incident?

Anybody Know How to Drive a Paris Subway Train?

2007-11-13T21:11:00.000-08:00

Jeez, France, it's always something. Two years ago, immediately previous to my trip there with fellow Bootie DJs Adrian & Mysterious D, Paris had erupted in riots after the deaths of two teenagers being chased by police in an eastern suburb. The city was still under a travel advisory when we got there -- they had even warned against taking the aiport RER train into the city, since it passed through some of the affected suburbs and people had been throwing stuff at the cars. Thankfully, of course, things had calmed down by the time we arrived, but this year, there is another, perhaps more serious threat to my trip, one even more traditionally French than riots: strikes!

French transit workers went on strike last night to protest, if you can believe it, the potential elimination of the special retirement category that allows certain public service workers the right to stop working at age 50. 50! As in, Sally O'Malley "I'm fiffftyyyy!" As in, if I was a transit worker and not a DJ, I could retire in 13 years, from my still-incredibly-youthful-and-good-looking 37! The strike is affecting both long-distance trains and the local Paris subway and commuter trains, all of which I was, um, planning on taking in about two weeks. I'm flying into Paris after Bootie Munich, so I can get there, but then Zebra, Moule and I were planning on taking the train to Bordeaux to start the all-France mega-tour, and continue utilizing ground-based transport for the duration, so, I dunno, if the strike continues, I guess we'll all have to rent motorcycles?

I'm usually a supporter of labor (you go, Writers Guild, get those residuals!) and I'm of course no fan of Sarko, whose insistence on labor reform was a big part of his platform, but come on, people! Do you have any idea how bad it is in the rest of the world? Try getting a doctor's appointment on the CBS health plan, that'll make the extra 5 years of driving the subway look like a walk in the park.

Anyway, with my arrival in France still two weeks away, hopefully things will all get worked out before I get there. And maybe during the negotiations they could also take care of that whole different-price-for-coffee-if-you-sit-down thing?

Warsaw: Weird

2007-11-13T05:49:00.000-08:00

Well, that's not fair: it's normal for Warsaw, but weird for someone who lived in Russia. Everybody looks vaguely Slavic, but maddeningly, I can only understand half the words they say. It's like, "bliggle blag it's possible to go fleep flapple in the florg because tomorrow we'll buy dargle barg." Yes, I think? The aging infrastructure and apartment blocks (and the dreary gray sky and freezing temperatures) are very familiar, but the super swank hotel I'm safely ensconced in (the Kyriad Prestige) is way nicer than the places I usually grab on Priceline even back in the homeland. Thankfully I have a free day today so I believe my first priority will be to lie down. After that I'll be working on a couple secret surprise mashups featuring Polish tunes for my set on Radio Bis tomorrow, and then hoping the weather clears up so people feel like coming out to the gigs, or maybe they're used to it.

I Can't Get No Sleep

2007-11-12T22:48:00.001-08:00

Ugh! Misery, thy name is insomnia. The plan was: fly out of SFO at 6pm, arrive Frankfurt at 2pm, stay up til normal bedtime, then get a good night's sleep and be totally adjusted to the new time zone scenario. Well, of course, it didn't work out that way. All afternoon and evening yesterday I'm wandering around Frankfurt in a kind of stupor, and when I sit down I can barely keep my eyes open. Finally I get back to the hotel and hit the hay around 11, and I'm wide awake. 7 hours of BBC World later, here I am, not a minute spent unconscious. What's the deal? I guess back in the good old Pacific Time zone it's afternoon, not my usual sleepy time, but now I've got to get up and fly to Poland and, you know, do stuff, and unless I pass out at some point, going to bed tonight I will have been awake 48 hours. At what point does one have to watch out for hallucinations? Hold on, I'm going to ask this giraffe right here. ...Uh-huh. You don't say. Really? Well, I wasn't planning on operating any heavy machinery, but thanks Mr. Giraffe.

One More Frankfurt Photo

2007-11-12T10:15:00.001-08:00

Gettin' Euros 2007, The Video: Chapter 1: Euros!

2007-11-12T10:11:00.000-08:00

Willkommen aus Frankfurt

2007-11-12T09:06:00.000-08:00

Fier einen nacht only!! Hey, thanks, crazy tailwinds in the jet stream! Your nutty river of air pushed our little 777 along so fast that a whole hour was shaved off the flight, although your turbulence did keep me from getting much sleep. But wow, you go, wind.

So, Frankfurt. I'm just here one night but rather than stay out at the Airport Hilton or whatever for 200€ / night, I figure why not take the conveinent train into town and stay here for 50€ a night? A smart idea, thanks to European planning: going from the gate to the airport train station took about 7 minutes, and while the automated ticket machines there were a bit complicated, once I bought a ticket and got on the train, nobody ever checked it. The ride to Frankfurt's main train station took all of 10 minutes, and the Hotel Excelsior is directly across the street from the main station. It's 53€ a night, and while the room is hilariously tiny (see photo at right), otherwise it's perfect: spotless, free internet, free drinks in the in-room minibar (!!?) free breakfast. The 'hood around the Hauptbahnhof isn't exactly buzzing (and there's a creepy lady talking to herself in the lobby as I type this) but who cares?

Sven Vath: He freakin' owns this town

I wandered around Frankfurt while there was still some daylight and enjoyed its lovely, if somewhat generic, sights. The Zell, the main shopping street, was packed with people but still oddly quiet; in the States that amount of people would create a deafening roar. The street vendor bratwurst was just about the best thing I've ever eaten: a succulent sausage topped with spicy mustard in a fresh bun, with a sparkling apple juice. But at 4€50 ($6.60!) even the street food is kind of pricey when the Euro is whooping your ass. I thought I'd take the subway the two stops back to the hotel but when I entered the station name on the ticket machine, it said it would cost 2€20 ($3.23), and I was like, "I can walk it."

Tonight, trying to see how long I can stay up to just get that jet lag out of the way (I'm fading fast), and tomorrow morning, back to the airport and off to Warsaw.

What's First Class on an International Flight Worth?

2007-11-11T14:58:00.001-08:00

This is kind of amusing. I'm flying from SFO to Frankfurt today, and after much searching and fretting, I ended up buying a business class seat with my "Mileage Plus" miles that I've been accruing over the years. A coach seat would have cost $550-ish, and those fares are non-upgradeable -- i.e., there's no amount of miles or money that can sneak you into business class, because of the fare structure. So I was randomly looking around United's website to see about buying the ticket with miles, and I saw that a business class seat cost 80,000 miles, which I had. The seat would have cost like $1500 in money, so I figure that's a pretty good bargain, and besides, that airline's probably going under any minute now so I should use these miles while the gettin's good, right?

So I went to check in online today for the SFO-Frankfurt flight, and after giving my info, the website asked me "Would you like to upgrade to United First?" Whaaa, hummmm? The flight is on a big old international 777, where business class is pretty good but not the super spread-out business class like on some planes I've been on. So I click the "continue" arrow to check it out. The next screen informs me that "Upgrade to First Class for: $619." Gulp! So, wait, let's figure this out. A round-trip first class ticket probably would have cost like $5,000, and if you assume 100 mileage miles=$1, my flight "cost" $800. Multiply $619 x 2 (if it gave me the round trip option, which who knows if that would have happened), and you have a grand total of about $2000 for a first class ticket. Of course for God's sake there's no way I'm spending $600 for a one-way first class upgrade, but for a brief moment, the possibility was thrilling.

So I guess the question is: how much would I have paid? A 12-hour flight from SFO-Frankfurt, I'm already in business class although I got it for "free" with miles, a one-way upgrade to First... hmmm. Maybe $150, $200? I mean, those are lie-flat beds I think, that's worth about the cost of a night in a hotel, right? Well, anyway, of course I'm mostly just interested in getting there in one piece.

How to Pack for a European Tour

2007-11-10T20:59:00.001-08:00

Don't forget the American flag T-shirt and cargo shorts! Actually I've been stressing out a bit over the packing process for this upcoming jaunt. I haven't checked a bag for a flight in about 5 or 6 years; not only am I a bit concerned about lost baggage (which, if your bag contains your CDs and your, um, light saber, could be catastrophic) but also the trouble of waiting around while your bag eventually shows up at baggage claim, not to mention traipsing around Europe on subways and whatever, you don't want a humongo suitcase. So, I'm just taking the carry-on roller bag.

I spent some money on a Victorinox Parliament rolling carryon bag this year before I had about 5 big trips right in a row. It was almost $400, but it was back in my days of being slightly more flush. I bought this size because it seemed like it would fit my big CD book, my 17" laptop, and some random junk pretty well, and looked to be pretty sturdy. It made it through a couple trips alright, but two months ago on a trip to LA, the pull-out handle completely disintegrated in my hand just as I was getting off the plane at LAX. It was honestly like a cartoon, with little bits and geegaws flying off of it, and a "ba-doiiinng" noise, followed by the "waaap, waaa" sound of disappointment. The handle was just gone, there was nothing connecting the two extend-o-poles, which now ended in sharp busted crap, making pulling the thing impossible, and of course these rolling bags are a bit heavy. Needless to say I was perturbed, having to cart it around all weekend. Now, because of the warranty (and me yelling at Edwards Luggage) they quickly repaired the thing, but I have to admit I am pretty nervous taking it on this trip: if it breaks again, I'm throwing it in the Danube and buying a $20 duffel bag.

This guy over at Onebag.com is a strong advocate of the non-rolling bag, and I was seriously tempted. I don't love strolling along with my bag bouncing on the pavement behind me like a stewardess, and with my long legs (and wide stance) I'm always banging my heel into the thing and knocking it sideways. But my crap is heavy, with the laptop and everything, and I just don't want to develop the shoulder bruises I used to get from my shoulder bag.

So, I'm taking it, and then a little Dickies shoulder bag for the CD book actually, that was my compromise so I have room for a couple more pairs of underpants. I wanted to replace my ancient Technics record bag that's falling apart, but I've been looking for a new one of those for a year and can't find one anywhere. Help?

What to pack is entirely another matter. There wasn't room for much even in the roller: about 5 T-shirts, 6 or 7 pairs of underpants, some socks, 3 more serious shirts. That's basically it, for almost one month of European galivanting, and it's gonna be kind of cold, and buying anything new will cost me a zillion dollars (see Euro posting below). So who knows how it'll work out. I'm only taking the pants I'm wearing on the plane, too -- that'll probably set some kind of record.

No I Haven't Left for Europe Yet

2007-11-09T14:07:00.000-08:00

For the last two weeks, I keep getting e-mails saying "I know you're already in Europe, but..." and running into people on the street who are like "Oh, are you back already?" Why does everybody think I'm already in Europe? Just because I've been talking about it all the time for like 3 years? I think you're all acting a little too anxious for me to leave the country. Is America planning a secret house party at my apartment while I'm away? Damn you kids! Use coasters at least!!!

Seriously I only announced the dates like a month ago so I don't think I'm overdoing it.

Anyway, I leave on Sunday.

Euros is Awesome Moneys

2007-11-09T01:03:00.000-08:00

I don't know what the deal is, but ever since I was a junior high school geek, I've been fascinated by currency exchange rates. I was always interested in foreign countries in general, I guess, and despite being isolated in the middle of Nebraska, I was lucky enough to stumble into some opportunities to travel. When I was about 13 (I think) a nearby college sponsored a junior high school student trip to England and France, for about 10 days in July. It was pretty cheap, although you had to get recommendations from teachers and write an essay to qualify or something. Anyway, the idea that my cash, earned from furious lawn-mowing for the months before the trip, might be worth more or less in these other places was intriguing to me, I guess, so I watched the exchange rates in the paper like a hawk, and was excited when the dollar went up right before our trip: I could buy more Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Ultravox records!!

Fast forward, er, some years. Now, on the eve of my tour of Europe, our lovely American dollars are basically worth less than toilet paper all over the continent. $1.47 at last check, which is completely bonkers: when I was in Amsterdam over New Year's 2001-2002, the Euro was a joke of a currency, floating around 80 cents, and everything was a bargain. I did the math, and even McDonald's was cheaper in Amsterdam than in San Francisco. Crazy. I stayed in one of the best hotels in the city and flaunted my riches around like a feudal lord. (Of course I got desperately ill and threw my back out and had a miserable time anyway, but whatever, fuck Amsterdam).

But this trip will be very different. Searching for a Paris hotel for part of the trip made me feel like a desperately poor student all over again: anything under $150/night was basically a shoddy hostel in the 900th Arrondisement. I'm trying to save money these days, so it's even more stressful--I can't just say "hey I'll buy a pair of shoes there if these hurt my feet," since those shoes might cost the equivalent of $200. On the other hand, my DJ fees will be paid in Euros and of course they have already been set, so every day it's like my fees go up a couple bucks. Planning a European tour, it's like an investment in your future. I couldn't afford not to go.

The question will be if I can resist tasty European snacks enough to make the Euro's dizzy heights work for me and actually bring home a profit. We'll see... I'm awfully tempted by snacks.

San Francisco Crime Wave?

2007-11-07T10:03:00.000-08:00

While (knock wood!) nothing's happened to me personally, anectodal reports and news stories seem to be saying crime in San Francisco is on the upswing, and perhaps more importantly, criminals are getting more brash and violent. A friend came up to the city from LA to see me DJ a few weeks ago, and went downtown Saturday afternoon. He parked his car on 5th St. near Minna by the Chronicle building around 2-ish, went and wandered around a bit, and when he came around 3pm, two guys were throwing a rock through the back window of his car. He yells "hey, get away from there," but instead of running off, one of them attacks him, throwing him up against a chain link fence while the other searches the car. Of course he has nothing of value. After they left it took two hours for the cops to arrive, then there was checking out the bruised rib at the hospital, the thousands of dollars in car repairs, and the shattered nerves. Granted, 5th Street isn't exactly the Marina, but 3 in the fucking afternoon?

Matier and Ross have a little story about crime affecting noted San Francisco officials, with quite a few eyebrow-raising stories, including the Police Commissioner getting whacked on the head for his iPhone, for instance. It also seems like the homeless population has gone up a whole level, and they seem to be more aggressively panhandling. I try to toss people change when I can -- no matter how shitty my life is, theirs are worse, even if it's all their own fault, and I'd hope somebody would give me 50 cents if I went crazy and started living on the street -- but it's honestly like walking through a war zone downtown. One unusually warm night last year I decided to walk home from my job in North Beach to my house in SOMA, about a half-hour jaunt across downtown, and as it was about 9pm, the homeless population had settled into doorways and benches. The sheer numbers were overwhelming to me -- I probably came across 100 homeless people just on my route home. It seems symbolic of the problem with San Francisco: supposed liberalism is corrupted by its monolithic hold on government power, and because there's no dynamic opposition forces, far fewer liberal goals are ever actually met, and what does happen is half-assed. Homelessness has been a huge issue for 20 years here, but a concerted effort (with money behind it, like, for better or worse, New York's effort to clean up their streets in the 80s and 90s) seems more impossible than ever. But with crime and homelessness seemingly reaching a critical point, one wonders how much the city can take, until even our safely-ensconced Democratic machine candidates get the message.

I Can't Stop Going to We Be Sushi

2007-10-21T02:53:00.000-07:00

I love sushi in all forms, and after eating lots of really good sushi all over the place I've become a bit of a sushi snob. Like, "is the uni fresh," kind of snob. So I like the pricey stuff, but I have to say that crazy-cheap standard-quality We Be Sushi is really pretty awesome, especially now in my more budget-minded lifestyle. We just went there tonight: five people, three of whom had Onigoroshi sake drinks, one of whom (ahem!) had two, and the total price was $89. Not bad.

The 16th & Valencia location is of course the better one since it's got the better appetizers and sakes, although for some reason every single time I go, they're out of hijiki. What's the deal? I mean, how hard is it to keep it on hand? And how many other people are actually ordering hijiki? It's kind of obscure, I thought. But it's totally my favorite seaweed, and every time I go there, I order it and the waitress goes "oh I think we might be out of it, let me check," and then they leave and come back and they're like "sorry!" We were there at 7:15pm, too, on a Saturday, so I don't think this is a case of a run on hijiki from seaweed-hungry customers. So, anyway, We Be: please make more hijiki, or, if my suspicions are true and you're not actually making any, please make some, or take it off the menu and stop teasing me.

The grilled shiitake mushrooms are a little rubbery too. But other than that, tasty fish goodness, plates and plates of it.

We Be Sushi - 538 Valencia St., San Francisco, CA - (415) 565-0749
webesushi.com

I'm Back?

2007-10-21T02:17:00.000-07:00

I don't know how stupid it is for me to have three different places on the internet to talk about stuff, but I guess it makes a certain amount of sense:

1. partyben.com
It's where I post my musical productions and reactions to them.

2. Mother Jones "Riff" Blog
This is where I talk about music and stuff.

3. Here
Where I talk about me, and stuff I do, in ways that are perhaps a little more random than regular old partyben.com.

So are we clear?

Good.

Anyway, I had kind of forgotten that this blog site even existed. I created it before our last trip to France to DJ two years ago, thinking I would update it all the time, but of course the only times I was near a computer, it turned out to be a French computer with crazy messed up letters all in the wrong places. However, coming up in less than a month (!) I'm heading to a whole variety of different countries, some of which have normal keyboards, and I'm also bringing my own laptop, which means I can type with ease, and share with random readers my pithy observations, why not.

This is kind of a test post but I'm hoping it works.

Friday 11/25 6:15pm

2005-11-25T09:23:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving in Paris: it's techno-riffic!

After leaving Oui FM, with my self-esteem in tatters after my dismal failure of an interview, DJ Zebra and I headed off to St. Germain to check on Adrian and Mysterious D. D had been feeling a bit under the weather, and when we arrived at DJ Comar's pad where they are staying, she was cloistered in the bedroom like a plague victim. Adrian said, "She wants fries. Fritas? Fritties? What is it again?" So we went out to the streets of Paris in search of fried potatoes and also train tickets for A & D to get to Amsterdam. The TV crew was again tailing us, and there's nothing more awkward than having someone you don't know film your most mundane activities. We're just walking down the street here, what am I supposed to do, dance? So, I did some hot disco ;moves which seemed to impress not only the TV crew but also the students of the Sorbonne who were strolling the neighborhood, I'm assuming in anticipation of seeing some American DJ make an ass of himself.

Dinner that night brought my first authentic French experience: a small bistro with the menu on a chalkboard, packed to the gills with people at 9:45pm. Somehow I managed to get peer pressured into duck foie gras, which I've never eaten before, and I wouldn't exactly say I'm sorry I did, but I'm going to be honest and say it's doubtful I will again, although these savory buttery sauteed apples with it were spectacular, and my choice of a Pinot Noir, based only on it being the only type of wine I actually recognized on the menu, turned out to be correct and impressed the waitress greatly. Who knew.

Unfortunately, the theme of the trip is starting to be not having enough time for anything, and before we could get to dessert or anything, it was time to run off to the France Radio and Television building for my interview on Laurent Lavige's "Ondes de Choc" ("Shockwaves") new music show. An exciting drive ensued across Paris and I managed to see Norte Dame, the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, lit up and blinking again, all whiz by in a blur. As we round the corner to the Radio and TV building, lo and behold, it's Adrian and a newly recovered Mysterious D along with Comar; and along with the TV crew, we suddenly have what I believe is called a "posse."

I was really nervous, after such an embarassing performance at OUI FM, about my ability to deal with this interview -- I really wanted to try and say some of my littel pre-planned French phrases, but my lesson from OUI was that you had to understand what the hell the question was for the answers to be any good. Zebra assured me he'd help, but my heart was still thumping as we passed through security in the mirrored lobby of the building. France Inter, for the uninitiated, is kind of like Radio 1 mixed with KCRW and NPR; it's one of the 6 or 7 radio stations under the umbrella of state-supported Radio France, apparently news and information oriented during the day, and with new music shows from 9pm to midnight only; of which Mr. Lavige's is apparently one of the most respected. They broadcast to all of France, and I suppose unsurprisingly, their studios made LIVE 105's look like college radio, with 4 producers in a giant state-of-the-art production room and Laurent holding court in the conference-room style mic studio. A bit intimidating to say the least. We sat down with the host and his first, intellectual-seeming rock critic guest, who were seriously discussing Nick Drake and playing the Beck song from the Eternal sunshine soundtrack. At this point I'm like shitting my pants; what have I gotten myself into? It's like Bart Simpson guesting on Washington Week in Review. So it was all the more amazing to have the interview go well. Mr. Lavige was very understanding and let me kjnow the questions in advance, he also phrased them very simply and spoke very slowly so I'd understand, and when I stumbled dyslexically over the word "chanson" he laughed it off and encouraged me to go on. They played "Boulevard" and then came back to the studio, where he read an e-mail that had just come in saying "thank you for playing that bootleg, it was very well arranged," the rock critic says "the songs are much better when they're played together" (which I'm going to take as a high compliment) and Mr Lavige himself was extraordinarily kind and complimentary. He then surprised all of us (Zebra had warned me it would be a very short 1-song appearance) by asking to play another track, choosing "Novocaine Rhapsody" off the Dean Gray album, which he said was "very beautiful," and then we got to discuss that little project a bit as well. So while my French was rusty and full of holes, I basically managed to follow along; and more importantly, I was overwhelmed by their apparent treatment of me as a legitimate artist, which I don't even really consider myself, and by their clearly genuine appreciation for my work. It's kind of cheesy but a very surprising and fulfilling moment. I had mentioned that my family might be listening on the internet (I have yet to find out if they successfully navigated the France Inter website, and moreover, whether they were able to sit through the first 40 minutes of the show before I came on), and Laurent even gave them a little shout-out. Hope somebody heard it.

So what better way to celebrate than with some thumping techno? We caught one of the last subway trains at about 1am and made our way to the Rex nightclub, a kind of alternative/art/techno club that had just recently hosted Adam Freeland. Last night was a blast, with the DJ playing a load of tracks I play on Subsonic that I always wish I could hear out in a club but no, San Francisco has to be all cheesy house music or Drum & Bass, so it was a great pleasure to hear tracks like Vitalic's "My Friend Dario," Tiga's "You Gonna Want Me," Kraftwerk's "Aerodynamic" remix; etc. Every once in a while, 5 girls dressed in matching red and white flight attendant outfits would slink out onto the dance floor and perform choreographed moves; the drinks flowed like, um, drinks; and Deidre proved herself fully recovered by running ecstatically back to the dancefloor for every new song -- all of us, French bootleg posse or American Bootie DJs, being similarly impressed by the tunes. The party raged until 3:30am and then, after being up over 20 straight hours, it was time to go to bed.

Today, Adrian and D were apparently off to Amsterdam -- without our cell phones it's hard to stay in touch, so I hope that's going okay for them. I did a whirlwind tour of the Champs Elysses, the Marais, and Printemps where I got this great orange soap that Zebra has. Plus I got my first Croque Monsieur which was a significant goal on this trip. In two hours, we head again to Oui FM where I will try to redeem myself on the Zebramix -- I've put together a Party Ben Greatest Hits half-hour set, and we'll be doing a little chit chat as well, all this streamed online at www.ouifm.fr at 8pm (11am Pacific, 1pm Central). We'll see if I can keep it real en francais. Then later tonight to Le Trabendo, a rather large, usually-live-band-type venue, for a party thrown by a safe sex and anti-drug organization, which has me a little nervous, but is a good cause, and so hopefully I can find some records they like. We'll see.

Oui FM - Thursday 1pm

2005-11-24T04:19:00.000-08:00

Okay, so before I get started I'd just like to let you know that I've just discovered another reason for all you Fox News types to hate France: their computer keyboards are fro, so,e crazy bizarro world where the "a" and "q" are switched, the "m" and comma are switched, and all the nu,bers are only accessible by the shift key since non-shifted they provide space for all that ridiculous French stuff like "è" and "é" and "ç": I'm forced to type about 1/2 speed and there will probably be a lot of rqndo, typow: Iù, sorry:

So, yes. After 8 hours of confinement at Heathrow; we were finally released on good behavior at 2:30 pm. BMI greeted us by playing Air's "Kelley Watch the Stars" on the PA which I took as a good sign, and soon enough we emerged from customs at the yesterday's Tomorrowland of the Charles de Gaulle airport to find DJ Zebra, TV crew and son in tow; holding a sign that said "ZUT ALORS." I think he might have been making fun of me.

We braved the Paris rush hour traffic and made it to Zebra's pad in the Neuilly neighborhood of Paris, which he maintains is the Beverly Hills of France but I have yet to see Shannon Doherty anywhere. He went to the grocery store to pick up some food, and when he got back said "Guess what I heard in the grocery store? Radio Maximum playing your 'Boulevard of Broken Songs." We were to hear it two more times just last night on the radio.

Adam Freeland and Evil 9 were playing but soon enough a hallucinatory exhaustion set in and even simple activities like standing became exercises in stamina. We had been awake over 24 hours at that point (and slept maybe 3 hours the night before). (By the way, I'd just like to take a moment to point out that on this keyboard, the open parenthesis is like 7 keys away from the closed, below the 5 and next to the 0: No wonder people riot.) Anyway Adrian & D left for DJ Comar's pad in the St. Germain neighborhood; and I fell onto Zebra's couch and into a 10 hour blackout. But, hey: Now I don't have any jet lag.

This morning we came to Oui FM, and of course it turns out I'm completely off about the interview schedule: the Spoutnik show which I did an interview for was at noon today, and recorded for playback from 10 to midnight on Saturday night -- so if you'd like to hear me, you can tune in to www.ouifm.fr around 11pm (2pm SF / 4pm Central). But I wouldn't recommend it. My pathetic attempts at brushing up on my French completely failed and I was unable to understand any of the DJ's questions, and even when he kindly translated for me, I couldn't answer in French. I think I might have made one joke -- when they were talking about Dean Gray I said "Qui est-ce??!" in a shocked voice which got a polite laugh. They played Novocaine Rhapsody (apparently poised to become another hit for me on Oui FM) and the Coldplay Kraftwerk thing.

Tonight, I'm live on the air on France Inter, so I better write down some useful phrases. Now, we're off to see if Mysterious D is feeling better -- she woke up feeling a bit iffy, but I know Adrian was determined to get to the top of the Eiffel Tower. We'll see.

Oh: and the baked goods, my God, the baked goods!!! Perhaps I can forgive them their retarted keyboard.

Heathrow is Bad

2005-11-23T02:15:00.000-08:00

Typing this from the T-Mobile Hot Spot in Terminal 1
at Heathrow, and while we've only been amongst its
WHSmiths and Dixons Tax Frees for 4 hours, I've
developed a lifetime's worth of loathing for the
place. Our connecting flight to Paris has been
cancelled -- no explanation, although it seems that
about half BMI's schedule has been axed this morning
-- and we've been rebooked on a flight 3 1/2 hours
from now. There goes our first day in Paris. Even my
one saving grace, an FM radio (with mp3 recording
feature!) hasn't provided much respite: the staticky
Radio 1 morning show with Chris Moyles played the same
Madonna and Franz Ferdinand songs (along with some
utterly annoying track called "I Like Girls")
(although in different circumstances I might have
liked it) that I hear all day in the so-called
"States." In other words: I'm crabby.

I suppose if BMI cancels our next flight to Paris and
we're stuck in London for the day, we could try and
make some calls to get a "surprise DJ appearance"
booked somewhere. If anyone reading this knows
anybody, maybe make some preliminary calls.

Trying to focus on the positive: the (ahem) brekky at
the weird "world beat"-themed restaurant had a very
tasty giant grilled mushroom, which we have decided
will be our new cause in San Francisco, trying to get
restaurants to include a grilled mushroom as part of
their standard brunch fare. Could have done without
the stewed tomato though.

Also focusing on the positive by imagining the worse:
our original flight was booked through Chicago with a
very short, 45-minute layover, and I had visions of
missing that Paris flight and spending the entire
weekend in Chicago, and with a winter storm apparently
moving into the area perhaps that fear wasn't
unfounded. So, worst case scenario, we hop in that
Chunnel thing. Don't worry France, we will soon reach
your borders.

2005-11-22T12:15:00.000-08:00

O n the plane. were off

2005-11-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

At SFO. United assinged us crap seats. Dont they know who we are? Hopefully can get gate agent to move us. Adrian is crabby.

Welcome to Party Ben's Blog

2005-11-10T00:11:00.000-08:00

As if partyben.com isn't annoying enough. Unfortunately, that site is a little cumbersome to maintain, especially from remote locations, so this site will function as a subsidiary page to collect my random observations and amusing anecdotes. Stay tuned for updates.