Boys, Wolves, And Free Music For YOU

Well boys and girls, it's Valentine's Day. It's really not my favorite holiday, but I can't completely ignore it. This day has a history of making me really cynical and I'm sure this year will be no exception. It is very possible that I will spend the evening eating Chinese food take-out while watching the "Kill Bill" movies, but I am totally okay with that.

I guess Valentine's Day hasn't always been a Hallmark card mush-fest. Apparently it originates from an ancient Roman festival called Lupercalia. The Romans used to dress like wolves and run around. A friend and I attempted to throw a Lupercalia party last night, but it was surprisingly unpopular. Most of the party was just my friend and I drinking wine and blasting Duran Duran while wearing homemade wolf costumes.

Just when we were beginning to think the party was totally a dud, the boy I may or may not have a crush on showed up with a couple of his friends. Okay, the party was still a dud, but at least now there was a cute boy there. I had a lot of fun dancing with him. Afterward, we collapsed on the couch and spoke to each other in fake Italian accents, discussing our favorite eurodance songs and French New Wave films. Turns out we both love the movie "Breathless" and we both know all of the words to "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" (the 90s remix).

So I've established that he's brilliant. But there are some things I don't know...

a) I don't know if he's interested in me.
b) I don't know if he's interested in women.

I was hoping to at least figure out the sexual orientation bit last night, but it remains a mystery.

Ah well. I guess crushing on boys with ambiguous sexual preferences is all part of the hipster experience.

I've been thinking that maybe I should do something nice for someone on Valentine's Day this year instead of just eating Chinese food with myself. It doesn't even necessarily have to be something romantic. I mean, I could give that boy I mentioned earlier a Valentine that looks like this:

But I don't really feel like that's necessary.

Instead, I would like to show my love and appreciation to all of my blog friends by putting up some free downloads!

I don't know if any of you guys will even want this, but I thought I would throw it out there anyway. Here is an exclusive live album by my band, Original Sound Trash. It's from the show last Wednesday, so it's still hot off the press and all of that. In attempts to spread joy and music around the blogosphere, it is available right here for your listening and downloading pleasure.

Original Sound Trash Live At The Hawthorne

1. Ride On. This track features the keytar. Huzzah!

Download it here.

2. Mesozoic Age. I love how it sounds like we're playing to a full venue when in reality there were about 20 people there.

Download it here.

3. Two O'Clock In The Morning. We wrote this one at two o'clock in the morning.

Download it here.

4. The Greatest Thing Since Yesterday. We've been playing this song since the dawn of time it seems.

Download it here.

5. Mannequin. My personal favorite. Not our best recording of it, but we had a ton of fun with it.

Download it here.

6. Mein Herr. Just having a Broadway moment. Sing/clap/stomp along if you like.

Download it here.

7. Emily. Ryan wrote this one. It's about Emily Dickenson. I think.

Download it here.

8. Giardia. I can't sing this with a straight face.

Download it here.

9. We Don't Know How It's Ending. The end of the world is our favorite topic.

Download it here.

10. Join The Army. The encore song about zombies. My favorite part about this track is the guy in the crowd at the very end.

Download it here.

Anyway, there are some songs you can munch on if you're interested. Enjoy! Thank you for being fabulous blog friends and readers. I wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day, whether you're happily in love, cynically single, or somewhere in between.

I feel like the only way to properly end this post involves a cheesy text heart...

<3

You're Not Hardcore Unless You Live Hardcore

So Ryan and I conquered the show at The Hawthorne Theater.

We rocked hard and sang our hearts out for an enthusiastic crowd consisting mostly of people from my commune. When everything was over, we both kinda felt like superstars. But in the hours leading up to the show, it seemed like the entire universe was against us and our crazy trash rock.

I was freaking out because I had a terrible headache and sore throat the day of the show. Fortunately, I got those things under control in time to get all glammed up. But then I discovered I was without hot water yet again. I quickly took a cold shower and tried to pretend I wasn't grumpy when Ryan came over to load up equipment.

We took separate cars because we can't fit all of our stuff in one vehicle. I was still working on my rock and roll make-up, so I sent Ryan over to the venue and told him I would be right behind him. I spent a few moments debating over whether or not I should wear the sparkly strapless dress I've been dying to wear onstage. As I mentioned in my last post, strapless dresses terrify me, but I decided to overcome my fear and wear it. I threw my high heels and a hair brush into a bag, covered up my strapless ensemble with a coat, nervously glanced in the mirror one last time, and went out the door.

I was running low on gas in my little truck, so my first stop was the gas station around the corner. Buying gas went alright (it usually does), but my car died when I attempted to pull out of the gas station.

So there I am, on the way to a rock show, stuck at a gas station in a sequined strapless mini-dress. Not to mention I'm on 82nd Avenue, which is a street that's infamous for hookers. The gas station attendants are laughing at me and Ryan is at the venue wondering what the hell happened to me.

Luckily, I was only a few blocks away from where I live. So I made a quick phone call and declared that I was in a state of rock and roll emergency. It wasn't long before The Poet came to my rescue.

He had a bit of smirk on his face as he dinked around under the hood of my car. "Okay kid, this is such a rock and roll moment. You better remember this story when you get on 'Ellen,'" he said, poking something with a screw driver.

It wasn't long before he fixed the car and had it running. The Poet saves the day yet again! He left the screwdriver with me and gave me instructions on what to do in case I had another problem. I drove him back to the commune and set off towards the venue. This time, I actually made it there.

Since we were the last band of the night, we had a couple of hours to kill after we set up our equipment. We walked to the grocery store across the street and bought trail mix to munch on. Yes, I was still in the dress.

When we got back to the venue, my friends Purple Hair and Mr. Syracuse were at the bar. I hung out with them for a bit, trying hard not to think about how nervous I was. The song "Missed Me" by The Dresden Dolls randomly came on in the bar and it gave me a strange boost of confidence. That is not really a song I hear being played from sources other than my stereo and it seemed like an omen of sorts.

Anyway, the bands that played before us didn't draw much of a crowd. The first act was a DJ and a trumpet making weird trip-hop. The second act was a lesbian punk band. There were about two people in the audience for both of these bands. "No one comes to shows on Wednesday" was the common excuse for the empty room.

But all of my friends are currently unemployed and have no problem staying out all night. So at 9:45, three jam-packed carloads of my hippy/hipster friends showed up ready to cheer. The once-empty room now had about 25 people in it (including all the favorites such as The Poet, The Fonz, The Chef, Mr. Merry Christmas Forever, etc.). We took the stage and delivered an imperfect yet incredibly fun set.

I always have a hard time remembering what happens onstage during shows. I think it's because I sort of turn into a different person. But I do remember that people were dancing right in front of the stage. People were clapping and yelling in between songs. Some people knew the words and sang along. Honestly, it was one of the best audiences I have ever played for.

And then there was the part where Ryan cut his finger on a guitar string halfway through the set and spent several songs bleeding all over everything. That was so rock and roll.

But I think it's time to stop rambling and bust out some more pictures.

We're into the music

I have a hard time believing that's me. It is.

Keytar!

Ryan's finger after the battle. So hardcore.

Despite all of the chaos, it turned out to be a good night. I felt so on-top. The other night, people in my kitchen were telling me I'm built to do this sort of thing. I think they're right.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now. I wound up with some audio recordings from the show, perhaps I'll post them tomorrow...

Trash Rock and Twinkies.

Ryan and I have a show tomorrow night.

Naturally, I'm already nervous.

It's ridiculous. It's getting to the point where people laugh when I mention being nervous. "Lauren, haven't you done this a million times?" they say.

Yes, I've done the performing thing a few times and usually everything feels natural and under control when I'm on stage. But there's always that weird 48 hour period beforehand where I don't know what to do with myself. I freak out about my outfit for a couple of hours. I worry about the set list. I'm even infamous for coming down with a terrible sore throat before shows. It must be psychosomatic because it happens almost every time.

We've done a lot of practicing in the past few days. We know the songs inside and out. We're ready. And I am fairly confident that we will rock it. But there is still this freaky cloud of nervousness lurking around my brain. What if our music goes horribly wrong somehow?

Then there's my own little wardrobe issue. I'm going out on a limb and wearing a strapless dress. It's the kind of dress I tried on for fun and knew immediately that it was made for me. I'm really excited about it, but I don't typically wear strapless dresses and am paranoid about having some sort of wardrobe malfunction onstage.

I'm so paranoid that I've been practicing in the dress. That's probably not the type of thing you should admit on a public blog, but it's true. I've been putting on my dress and heels before band practice these days. I've also spent way too much time practicing my keytar stance in front of my mirror when I'm alone. Don't judge.

But aside from being awkwardly nervous, I'm just plain excited. It's been way too long since Ryan and I have done a show at a decent venue. I know we're going to have a blast.

I also know that the crowd will be full of my friends and neighbors from the commune. The Poet is organizing a massive field trip. Nobody here drives, so it sounds like there's going to be twenty people taking a Trimet bus across town to cheer me on as I pretend to be a rock star.

I know I've probably said it before, but I'll say it again: The people I live with are absolutely wonderful.

Sometimes I feel like we're the brats that have refused to grow up and that's why we all get along so well. If you don't believe me, check out these pictures from Sunday night's art installation:

Yes, those are Twinkies. Yes, they are wearing loin cloths/thongs and hanging from the ceiling.

It all started on the kitchen whiteboard with a weird cartoon war between The Fonz and The Chef. It escalated to The Poet buying two boxes of Twinkies at the store and handing them to The Fonz, Purple Hair, and myself to decorate. We hung them all from the ceiling in the middle of the night. It was glorious.

I think we all missed the memo that we aren't in college anymore. But right now, that's okay. I'm having more fun than I ever did in college anyway. I'm definitely making a lot more music, which is what I need to be doing.

And with that, I'm off to go make more tea. I've got to make this stupid sore throat go away by tomorrow night, even if it is just psychosomatic.

Peace out, amigos.

Holy Wardrobe Malfunction, Batman!

My dress almost fell off onstage Friday night.

It started with one shoulder of the dress slipping down my arm as I pounded on the keyboard. I tried to pass it off as a bad ass rock star thing, but then the other shoulder started slipping. I continued to belt out the song, unable to stop because it was during a solo set. The dress sunk lower, threatening to dip into dangerous territory. I began making my infamous Nervous Lauren face. I made eye contact with a few friends in the audience and could see that they were beginning to get nervous for me as well. I felt like I was living in that bad dream that I sometimes have - that dream where I'm onstage and my clothes fall off. Except this time, it wasn't a dream at all.

I stopped the song and comedically fixed my dress, then resumed the song where I left off and changed some of the lyrics to be about my near-wardrobe malfunction. So it turned out alright. And other than that, the show wasn't so bad.

Well, except for the part where I got up the nerve to do a song I had written two days prior and ended up mumbling half of the words because I forgot them.

Or the part where Magic Butter Guy opened for me and
1) started 45 minutes late because he had to change the tubes in his amp before his set.
2) came into the audience, stood right in front of where I was sitting, and serenaded me with a really long and very cosmic song about flowers.

But other than all of that, the show went fairly smoothly. Especially the trash rock bit. Ryan did a set with me after my slightly terrifying solo stuff (essentially, I opened for myself - how much more narcissistic can I be???). It was great fun. Turns out that the end of Original Sound Trash isn't really around the corner as I feared it might be, so that's good news.

I'll write a longer post tomorrow - it got be late and I am le tired.

Over and out, amigos.

I Now Return You To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...

Whew. Busy day in the blogosphere. I just updated my Musical Advice Column for the first time since last summer. I'm planning to update it regularly again. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you may want to head over there and experience the madness. Basically, people write in with their various problems and I respond to them by singing and playing an instrument. Yeah, it really is as campy as it sounds. You just might love it.

I also just put up my Friday post for the Transatlantic Support Group. I think I've mentioned the TASG a couple of times already in this blog, but it gets a little bit cooler each week. Allison and Tom are fantastic people to collaborate with and I assure you that you will be entertained if you click on the TASG link.

Anyway, enough shameless self-promotion and onto other news.

I snagged this photo from Facebook today:

It's from the kitchen show last week and pretty much sums up the magic of trash rock. It was taken by The Chef, who was probably on his second or third bottle of wine at the time this picture was taken.

Sadly, the grand era of trash rock may be coming to an end. We're not breaking up, but we're slowly headed in opposite directions. Meaning that I want to do music for a living and he wants to be a full time computer programmer. I respect his decision, but it's still depressing.

So I'm working up the nerve to book a solo show somewhere. I've also been writing music like crazy. We'll see what happens.

Anyway, that's about all I have to report. I think I'm going to meet up with my old high school Spanish partner for a little heavy metal knitting party. Then later, I'm going to an electronica show with a few of my neighbors. I'm pretty stoked. I'm totally in the mood to dance.

I should figure out what I'm going to wear. It might be an evening that requires a costume change. I can't imagine that the outfit I wear to the dance club will be appropriate for knitting with the old Spanish partner...

Over and out, comrades! Happy Friday!

Trash Rock In The Kitchen

Friday night reminded me why I insist on being a musician.

The kitchen show was a grand success. Lots of people showed up and were really receptive to the music that Ryan and I played. It was a great intimate setting and we even worked up the confidence to bust out some of our weirder, less polished numbers towards the end of the night. I channeled Amanda Palmer a little bit on a cover of "Mein Herr" that had everyone in the room clapping along as though we were all in "Cabaret." It was awesome. And it was another one of those moments where I surprised myself a little bit.

Once Ryan and I were out of songs to play, a couple of other musicians grabbed their instruments and the whole thing evolved into a jam session/poetry slam that went on for hours. I think somebody got parts of it on tape, I really need to track it down and post it up here (especially the part where Tweaked Out Elvis Costello yelled "I WANT TO HEAR THE VIOLIN SO SHUT THE @#$% UP" and then the entire room starting singing/chanting those exact words in time with the music).

When the whole thing was over, I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt so energized and alive. It all just confirmed for the millionth time that I need to continue making music and sharing it with others.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'm pretty tired so I should probably do that sleeping thing, but I will be back tomorrow to talk about the rest of my weekend. Just wanted to throw out a quick update and say that the kitchen show was fabulous.

Until next time, amigos!

If Music Was A Cave, I Might Hide In It For A Long Time

Ryan came over today for band practice. Lots of times, "band practice" quickly turns into...
a) indie/cult/foreign film appreciation time
b) time to talk about the meaning of life
c) time to drink too much
d) all of the above

These are all very wonderful things, but today we managed to crack down and work on music for awhile. We dug out our old catalog and prepared a set list for a hypothetical show. We played through some new material and revved up our old songs. We made a game plan. We're tired of being a dysfunctional rock duo that doesn't do anything.

We even attempted to make a video of one of our new songs to put up on youtube for our three fans to watch and enjoy. It's a difficult song and it took a million takes to get it right. When we finally got something we were semi-satisfied with, we loaded it on my laptop and discovered that all of the footage looked like this:

I'm all for being edgy and avant-garde, but it's also nice when Ryan has a head. So much fail.

Ah well. We plan on redoing it so that the world can listen to our new song without being distracted by the decapitation happening stage right.

It's just good to be working on trash rock stuff again, I guess. We haven't done a show since May and our plans to record an album got a bit stuck in the mud. Ryan works full time and lives in Timbuktu (actually, I'm the one that lives in Timbuktu right now, but we can say it's Ryan). Original Sound Trash's transition into the post-college world hasn't been the smoothest.

That's irrelevant, though. We're not those bad ass college rockers anymore, but I'd like to think we're still bad ass. And we're not in the mood to let real life get in the way of our rock and roll fantasies.

Speaking of real life, I need to call the school district tomorrow and get on their sub list again. For those of you just now tuning in, I worked as a substitute educational assistant last spring (I got the job because I had a connection, not because I actually like children). It was hellish and I would rather not do it again, but I have nothing else lined up. Maybe a few days of chasing retards kids down the hall will be the motivation I need to find a job I can stand.

*sigh* Can I just be a rock star? Pretty please?

Some Cool OST Sketches

I saw my friend Abbey the other day and she handed me some sketches she drew at the last Original Sound Trash show.

I was impressed. Most people just take bad cell phone pictures at rock shows. I still don't know how she managed to draw so many details in the dark.

Blame Canada!

My little brother busted out a Bob Dylan song on his guitar this morning and we had an impromptu sing-along, mumbling half the lyrics and shouting "THE TIMES, THEY ARE A-CHANGIN" at the end of each chorus to make up for not knowing all the words.

And it's true. The time, they are a-changin. I don't know if I necessarily like it, but change doesn't require you to approve of it. Change only requires you to accept it and to adjust accordingly.

The Original Sound Trash album is not happening this month. Just take a look at my bandmate's latest blog entry and you'll see that he's running off to Canada for the month of July.

It's a long story but it's not that interesting. I don't need to go into it. All you need to know is that the story ends with half of the band impulsively trudging through Canada and the other half of the band singing Bob Dylan in attempts to cope with it.

I think it's time to reinvent myself. Get over this incredible songwriter's block I've been stuck in for a month and do some composing. Maybe do some shows on my own. Travel places alone. Visit friends I haven't seen in awhile. Focus less on what I want to do with my life and more on what I'm going to do today.

The times, they are a-changin.

Audition Recap (And A Bunch Of Other Stuff Too)

Hello. Just me again. Maybe the world will slow down long enough for me to write a semi-coherent blog post. Lately, I've found myself overwhelmed by various things that all seem to be happening at once. And then there are the things that are not happening right now, which are also overwhelming. Anyway, blah blah blah, vague vague vague, whine whine, emo emo, moving on. Tonight was good. Hung out with Steve and his crew, had some good laughs and some good food. Put a lot of thoughts on hold for the evening. It was nice.

Aaaand I just realized you guys are probably still on the edge of your seats waiting to hear how my audition went on Sunday (thanks to everyone that wished me luck, btw!). Truth is, I'm still waiting for that call as well. I think the audition went well but apparently they're auditioning multiple people. They said they'll let me know if I'm in or out in a few days. I'm not going to be heartbroken or anything if they don't pick me, but I think it would be a ton of fun to play with them and I hope I make it into the band.

The Michael Cera-esque guitarist had emailed me a few recordings and told me to learn the songs for the audition. I've been learning a lot of new music lately (more on that later) but was able to play through the songs a few times and grasp onto the main riffs and chord progressions. I put on my finest indie rock and roll attire (no, it did not involve that lovely sweater), picked up the boyfriend/body guard, and headed into Portland.

The audition was in the drummer's basement. When we arrived, the guitarist and the drummer where having a drink on the front porch. The drummer was the one member of the band I hadn't met yet. I had seen her onstage with the rest of the band and was unable to tell if she was a boy or a girl. It wasn't until talking to her that I realized she's indeed a chick. She greeted Steve and I and enthusiastically and offered us some warm, old beer that she dug out from under her bed.

We sat around making awkward small talk while waiting for the bassist to get there (the bassist has long, dark hair and doesn't talk - essentially he's a younger, less creepy, slightly more attractive Silent Bob). Once the bassist arrived, we went down into the basement to play through some songs. It was your stereotypical rock and roll practice space (though definitely not as sketchy as the basement I tried out for a metal band in once upon a time...now that was a place I could have possibly died). They even had a keyboard set up for me to play. It was against my natural instinct to leave my own keyboard at home (playing on someone else's instrument is a little bit like running in someone else's shoes) but I figured their keyboard would be programmed on all the right patches.

Since they are a band that "doesn't really jam," the audition itself was short. We played through each of the songs a couple of times. Michael Cera corrected me on the riffs several times and even came over to the keyboard and showed me how to play certain parts. I started taking liberties on a song with a really repetitive chord progression and he told me that the old keyboardist didn't play it like that and that I should play what she used to play. I caught Steve's eye from across the room at this point. I could see him thinking "Uh oh, Rock Star Lauren does not like being told how to rock." It's true, it's annoying, but it was an audition. I think half of what people look for at auditions is someone who can catch on quickly, play what needs to be played, and listen to feedback. And I think I kept up with the band for the most part. It wasn't like playing with Ryan (duh) but it was a lot of fun. Their music is totally catchy and energetic. I want to become a part of it.

"Any questions for us?" says the drummer when it's all over, adjusting her baseball cap. "Anything at all? Anything you wanna know? Anything?"
I can't think of a response fast enough.
"Sorry, I'm acting like an asshole!" she says. "I'm not an asshole, but I'm acting like an asshole, but I'm really not an asshole..."

Michael Cera drinks beer and laughs. Silent Bob is silent. Steve is in the corner, probably taking notes for his next web sitcom.

Soon the whole ordeal is over and I'm back in my truck driving to the nearest Burgerville. The audition took no longer than 45 minutes (quite different than the metal band audition once upon a time - those guys were all on strange drug cocktails and wanted to play for hours and hours because they were convinced that I was the reincarnation of Dio).

Now I just wait and see what happens.

In the mean time, I'm playing at a wedding this weekend. Yes, with Original Sound Trash. It's for two really good friends, but I'm still a bit nervous about the whole thing. We're playing during the ceremony and at part of the reception. And then I'm DJing the rest of the reception. So basically I'm responsible for every scrap of music that is played the entire day. Like I said, these are two great friends of mine so I'm happy to help them out. I'm just nervous. Anxious. Original Sound Trash is not naturally a wedding band. I'm not naturally someone that gets involved in weddings.

Really, I think that if I ever choose to get married, I'm going to elope. Don't worry, I'll take lots of pictures and tag people in them as inanimate objects and random strangers so everyone can feel like they were really there!

Okay, I'm rambling. I should sleep. Yes.

Over and out, amigos.

When John, Paul, and George Met Ringo

Lately I've been wondering what it was like when John, Paul, and George met Ringo for the first time. I always imagined there was immediate chemistry there. Maybe they took one look at him and said "Blimey, you've got a cool name and there is no one on the planet that looks quite like you do. Let's get that Pete fellow out of here, we want you in the band." Maybe the clouds parted for a moment and a blinding ray of light shone down upon Liverpool. Maybe a majestic voice from above said, "John and Paul, my children, I have sent you a drummer. Go forth and rock."

Or maybe Ringo simply replied to a desperate want-ad he stumbled upon one night when he couldn't sleep. Maybe he went to an early performance of The Beatles, was intrigued by their music, and awkwardly left his phone number with a very drunk John Lennon. Maybe Paul McCartney flippantly promised to call him sometime in the next week. Maybe George Harrison was standing there silently, unsure of how to act when not onstage.

I've been playing in the same band for so long that, until recently, I've forgotten all about the strange process of trying to connect with other musicians. Musicians are a weird breed. We're emotional, competitive, creatively-driven creatures who often lack standard social skills and have an affinity for irresponsibility. We crave the limelight but often don't know what to do when it shines on us. Honk if you agree.

And since bands are made up of musicians, they're pretty weird things too. The relationship between bandmates is sometimes almost a cross between a dysfunctional family (minus the obligatory holiday get-togethers) and a really involved romantic relationship (minus the romance).

Anyway, I was recently cruising the musician want-ads on Craigslist (my favorite thing to do when I can't sleep) and I stumbled upon a pretty cool indie dance-rock band that needed a keyboardist. I listened to them on myspace, fell in love with their sound, and sent them an email. I emailed back and forth with them a little and ended up going out to see them perform last night.

Now, I know some of you are going to read this and think I've gone mad. "What about Original Sound Trash?!" you will ask. "What about Ryan and trash rock and making an OST album and all of that?!"

Rock bands are not exclusive creatures. Our friend Jack White shows us that it is possibly to be involved in as many as three bands at a time. Of course, it helps that the man's guitar skills are just plain sexy. But he is somehow able to musically multi-task and pour his talent into three bands.

(I'm not trying to compare myself to Jack White here - I know he's a one-of-a-kind rock sensation. But I'm just pointing out that the multiple-band thing can be done.)

And though Jack is fantastic in The Dead Weather and The Raconteurs, The White Stripes seems to be his musical child. If I do end up joining another band, Original Sound Trash will still be my number one. I'm just at a point in my life where I want to make all kinds of music with all kinds of people. You know, try on the starving-musician lifestyle for size and see if it fits.

Original Sound Trash began so organically that I barely know how the whole auditioning thing works. Four years ago, I started college and was determined to play music with other people. I spent all of orientation weekend targeting boys that looked like musicians. Ryan was the only guy I talked to that didn't get all weird and think I was trying to hit on him. Instead, we just talked about our love for Simon and Garfunkel and exchanged myspace urls. We snuck into the on-campus practice rooms to jam a few days later and the rest is history. Or something like that.

Once I tried out for a Shakespearean metal band (mostly just because I was bored and wanted to shake everyone up), but other than that it's been awhile since I've tried to dive into any new music projects. So last night, I put on my indie rock attire (doesn't really matter what you wear as long as glasses with big, black, Woody Allen-style frames are involved), took some pills for a headache that had been around since Tuesday, and headed downtown in hopes of making a good impression on this new band. Took Steve along with me and got there early enough to scope out a group of people that looked like the band.

"I think that's them," I whisper to Steve.
"What?" he says. It's loud in the room and I am whispering.
"Be right back," I reply, and strut off to the bathroom. Once in the sanctuary of the ladies room, I pull out my iPhone with the intention of looking at a picture of the band online. I discover that my battery has died. I fix my hair, take a moment to read some of the fantastic bathroom graffiti, and return to the table Steve is sitting at. I ask to borrow his iPhone and use it to pull up the band's myspace page. I scroll through pictures and look at the group of people in front of me. Just as I suspected - it's them.

"Go talk to them!" Steve says.
"I will in a minute," I say. I'm bad at approaching groups of people I don't know. Remember how I said musicians don't always have the best social skills? I'm really no exception.
"Want a beer?" offers Steve. "It might make this easier."
I shake my head and remind him that I took stuff to kill a migraine before the show. He agrees that alcohol probably wouldn't be a good idea for me but goes to get a beer for himself, strategically leaving me alone to talk to the band.

I wait until they look like they aren't totally involved in a conversation and approach them. "Hey...are you guys (name of band)?" They nod. I then introduce myself as the girl who's been emailing them about playing keyboards. Fortunately, one of them remembered who I was and greeted me enthusiastically. He wore tight pants and reminded me of a less-cute Michael Cera. His phone rang in the middle of our conversation and he answered it, walking away from the table and leaving me to interview the bassist. I was not trying to interview him but he was not that talkative so I nervously launched a game of 20 questions. Michael Cera came back to the table. I wished them both a good show and went to find Steve at the bar.

And it was a good show. The music they made was catchy, danceable, and over-all something I would love to be a part of (the same could not be said about the Shakespearean metal band I tried out for once upon a time). I gave Michael Cera my phone number before I left and we agreed that we would all get together and jam sometime next week.

They weren't like "OMG WE LOVE YOU, GET PETE BEST OUT OF HERE AND BE OUR RINGO," though I didn't really expect them to be. I'm not going to get my hopes up too high, just going to see what happens.

And this just happened: Michael Cera texted me, thanking me for coming out to the show and saying he'll be in touch soon about getting together. And after a long debate about whether or not to use a text smiley face at the end of the reply or not, I texted him back saying the show was great, blah blah blah.

What will happen? Will Lauren the Keytar Master and Avoider of 9 to 5 jobs add another band into her life? Or will this simply become another amusing anecdote, residing in the same category as the Shakespearean metal band?

Staaaaay tuned!