By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
Casey Crescenzo (the Receiving End of Sirens): "Hi there, my name is Casey and I love movies about war and songs about love. When not partaking in the performance of face-melting rock and/or roll, I am busy progressing my culinary skills, growing multiple beards, and thinking about things like hang gliding, mountain climbing and cliff diving. I am looking for a girl who understands the difference between 44 and 96 kHz and can show me how to play 64th notes with only my toes. Someday I'd like to travel the globe in a hot-air balloon powered by dreams and happiness -- and I'd love a leading lady there to help me man the weights."
Tyson Ritter (All-American Rejects): "My name is Tyson Ritter. I enjoy a nice finishing wine, a large bed and a woman with a sexy split down her dress. I often scuba, juggle, polo and croquet. I need someone who's on her toes and can funnel shots."
Rachel Minton (Zolof the Rock & Roll Destroyer): "Hey!! My name is Rachel and I front the band Zolof the Rock & Roll Destroyer. By the name of my band, you can tell that I'm a bit on the kooky side and I tend to surround myself with similar characters. I despise superficiality, but I think that cute personalities are hot. If you think I'm the girl for you, you better like hockey, beer and be able to rival me in Blades of Steel."
MC Lars: "Hello, I'm MC Lars, and I'm a white rapper from California who likes reading 19th-century literature and writing songs about it, deflating superficial and over-the-top music trends, and composing music on my computer. I'm looking for a girl who can handle my post-punk laptop rap in the best way possible. Must enjoy postmodern musical hybrids and be familiar with Reason 3.0 and Pro Tools. Public Enemy fans are a plus."
Ben Romans (the Click Five): "Single male, five foot 11, blond hair, with blue eyes. Ambitious, driven, creative, unpredictable, yet very fun-loving!!! This wannabe surfer wants to take you on a wild ride. He has an appetite for the nighttime world "
Shawn Harris (the Matches): "I'm Shawn. I play in a band called the Matches. If you really are a cute girl and not an ex-trucker sitting in your skivvies, posing under the aegis of a scanned JC Penney's underwear model, planning to rendezvous, beat me up, and nick my wallet, that's a plus. I like dark hair and long legs (but not in conjunction), Jolie lips, vegan is a plus, and, uh, herpes simplex B is okay. Oral. Don't trip, like 70 percent of people have it. I have a Valtrex sponsorship and will hook you up."
Patrick Carrie (the Limbeck Band): "My name is Patrick, from the Limbeck Band. I enjoy driving ridiculously long distances in our cramped van, eating Mexican food at least two times a day, girls who like the outdoors, and driving ridiculously long distances in a van while eating Mexican food."
Aaron Stern (Matchbook Romance): "My name is Aaron Stern and I like back tickling, beer pong and gangsta mix dance parties on tour buses only. I need a girl to show me lots of affection so I can feel wanted all the time, someone passionate, with goals in life. Did I mention she has to be a rad chef too? I ain't ordering out no Wacdonald's five days a week. Oh, and drummers bang better, so look out!"
Joe Dexter (Orange): "Hey, my name is Joe, I play in a rock 'n' roll band called Orange. I like guitar, drums and bass, and need a girl that can pull me away from my own mirror to tell me I'm gorgeous. Must be Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba or Charlize Theron. If not, then I'd settle for a chick with big tits."
Elvis Cortez (Left Alone): "Hello, my name is Elvis, but not Presley or Costello -- sorry. I'm a very sensitive, easygoing, fun-loving punk rocker who is into English bulldogs, Chevy Novas and petting full-grown midgets. I love to travel (but not far) and I drink a bottle of Jack Daniel's a day. If this is all okay with you, then give me a call."
Steve E. Nix (the Briefs): "I'm into hanging out at the Space Needle, blotter acid, burritos and fuckin'. I play guitar like a wild panther! I'm pretty skinny, but I'm currently trying to put on a few pounds. The reason I have such a hang-up with authority is that I hate being told what to do by a bunch of fuckers."
Roy Berry (Lucero): "I hit things with sticks, drink on the job, and I'm a bit tattooed. My name is Roy, I'm the drummer for Lucero, and I have my own army. I enjoy the in- and outdoors, audio experimentation, doing things that I haven't done before, intending to read more than I do, and drunken text messages. Seeking a sweet, hot, occasionally surly female logician who's possibly a well-disguised vampire (18 to 38)."
Tim Fite: "SBM (single bloodless male) Tim Fite seeks kind-hearted female hemophiliac for life-fulfilling symbiotic relationship. Must be generous, open minded, O-positive and willing to go on dates that cost less than a dollar."
Aaron Marsh (Copeland): "Hi, my name is Aaron Marsh. SWM seeking a girl who can share in my affinity for Woody Allen films and Allen's bleak outlook on life. Enjoys dark guitar tone, creepy artwork, haunting music and dark umm puppy dogs."
Marty Larson-Xu (Rock 'n' Roll Soldiers): "My name is Marty and I love to party. Any girl is good for me as long as she is willing to go out and drink. I love to eat -- burritos, Thai food, bananas and candy play a huge role in my life. I also love college girls and prefer if they have nothing to do with the music/entertainment industry."
Simi Sernaker (Suffrajett): "Hi, my name is Simi. I like long walks in the woods, help with my koi pond, boys who eat bacon and guys that know how to rosin my bow. Must love soup."
Tripp Underwood (the Unseen): "SPRD (single punk rock dude) seeks leather and spikes counterpart. Hobbies include drinking, making old people and mall security guards nervous, and smashing the imperialistic state. I'm into tattered clothes, outrageous hair, obnoxious behavior and blaming the government for my lack of employment opportunities. If I sound like the guy for you, call 888-8889. But not after ten, 'cause my mom goes to bed kinda early."
No more Mr. Nice Wack. Starting this week, we proudly announce our intention to put an end to our habit of preaching to the choir, taking shots at only the most obvious of barrel-dwelling marine life. No, Wack is opening The Abattoir with the express purpose of goring only musicís most untouchable sacred cows. So pull on that apron, sharpen that poison pen and get ready for a blood-lettiní! ó Scott Faingold
As I sit here with the blade of my knife held to the throat of Jack White, driving force behind the inexplicably popular white-boy-blues train wreck the White Stripes, I beseech you, their fans, to explain to me why this fool should be allowed to live. I beg of you -- why in God's name do I even know who this pallid troubadour is? Back when they were playing Rudyard's it was all cool.
"Hey, have you heard of the White Stripes? No? Well, I just caught 'em last night at Rudz, and they rocked."
"Oh, really? What are they like?"
"Just a guy and a girl. He sings and plays guitar, and she plays drums. It's kind of a bluesy, garage rock thing, à la Blues Explosion, but less funky, and more Mississippi Delta-ish."
"Oh. I guess that's okay."
Boom. That's the end of the White Stripes discussion.
In a just world, the story would be over, but in our world these folks are wildly successful rock stars packing stadiums as far away as Brazil! (At least that might help explain the marimba and the stupid-ass hat.)
It wasn't supposed to be this way. They don't belong. Their songs are boring. Meg is, hands down, the worst drummer of all time -- and not in a Shaggs kind of way. In a two-person band, Meg is baggage. And Jack looks like Tim Burton's idea of a dead mariachi. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to hear about Jack's gallivanting about with the likes of Karen Elson and Katy's own shiny-faced drama queen Renée Zellweger. Why, God, why?
Who decided that this scrawny, gaucho hallucination with the John Waters mustache and his ghostly, half-breed, talentless homunculus belong anywhere but beneath my blade anyway? I'm not sure who was responsible, but when I find out, they'll be next in line at The Abattoir. -- John Cramer