As an overgrown teenager who can never get enough ruffles or lace, I was ridiculously excited to go see Betsey Johnson receive the Medal of Honor for Lifetime Achievement in Fashion at a dinner party thrown by the National Arts Club. Read more Read it in print

A special edition of Eastern Bloc's weekly Good Times party, "Night of 1,000 Courtney Loves" turned out to be quite the overstatement, but fun nonetheless. Perhaps because gays who like grunge and riot grrrl tend to be less drag-inclined than those who like, say, Cher, there were barely enough wigs present to assemble a costume contest. Read more

WHAT DOES THE indie world think of producer-constructed bands? In the judgmental mind of a rock purist, such an idea is likely to take the lean shape of a beautiful puppet singing songs of questionable authorship, never more than a boatload of style away from being Kelly Clarkson. But what if the men behind the curtain stepped into the spotlight? Would it still rub us the wrong way? More importantly, should it? Read more Read it in print

Last Tuesday night, Bruar Falls hosted a raucous release party for Oran Canfield’s memoir, Long Past Stopping. As the son of Jack Canfield (creator of the somewhat sinister Chicken Soup for the Soul empire), a former art student, heroin addict and circus performer (though not all at once), and current drummer of the Brooklyn experimental trio Child Abuse, Canfield has met all kinds of people throughout his life. Read more

IF THEY COME, you will build it. In these lean times, belt-tightening young professionals might start joining the artists in a gentrifying neighborhood before there’s even a single place to rent David Lynch films. Some denizens of the Jefferson L stop probably like this; the longer the Big G takes, the longer they can afford to live on their meager salaries. Tandem, however, with its tasteful decor and reasonable prices, makes for a harbinger of doom even the most selfloathing of colonizers would be hard pressed to resist. Read more Read it in print

If you love music so much, why don’t you mold it into the shape of genitals and fuck it? This is the reasoning behind sound-activated vibrator Freestyle, the latest gadget to up the ante in the race to see who loves their iThing the most.While some focus on the toy itself to a degree approaching objectum sexualis—bringing to mind many people’s desire, circa 2008, to grease up the sexy new iPhone and make love to it with an orifice— when I first heard of it there was but one name on my lips: Morrissey. Read more Read it in print

The second night of All Tomorrow’s Parties New York was when people really go hard. Existence's sharp edges sanded down by music and substances, vacationing rock nerds are free to fling themselves around the padded cell of Kutsher's Country Club to their hearts' content. This year, many wandered over to one the resort's dusty bars after Animal Collective's set to dance all night to the smokin' soul 45's of Ian Svenonius. A V.I.P.-less festival meant egalitarian mingling of artists, fans and media; Jim Jarmusch stopped by for a drink and No Age could be seen hanging out. Read more

bash compactor Private Parts Friday night’s party for the NY premiere of the documentary We Live in Public enticed nerds away from their computers with the promise of real-time social networkin Read more

“Can we get it a little louder?” asked These Are Powers’ Pat Noecker. “All the Park Slope-ians are fast asleep, I’m sure we won’t wake them.” Last Saturday, J Read more

“YOUR TITS ARE just as nice as they were when you were 15.” Sloppy drunk and in the midst of a fourmonth dry spell, I’d said fuck it and brought my high school crush home with me. “It’s impossible to hang out with someone from high school and not talk about high school,” he pontificated. “I could be with Charlie C., or Liz W. or even Dan S. right now, and we’d probably be having roughly the same conversation.” Read more Read it in print