July 7-13, 2005

music

icepack

by A.D. Amorosi

Are you finished wearing those cheap white bracelets that make your wrists sweat and smell like mercurochrome and wet cardboard? Charitable rubberwear isn't what skanky ass rock and hip-hop are supposed to be. Rock's about wheeling, dealing, fisting and fucking. Anything less is lame. Or Ted Leo. Rock means money. This means you, the I-buying public, debating whether to put cash to computer so to purchase new stuff from Blue Maxx Goat. He, late of The Goats, while waiting to drop his official had-hop debut, Hack Tao (in October), is currently hawking his electro project, Leonard de Leonard's 2. Writing me from Berlin (where he's hanging with both Swearing at Motorists swearees and painter/Cream Charger Dean Rosenzweig), Maxx says you must buy LdL 2 at the infratunes.com French electronic music store. "It'd be nice if some of youse wit da means could order the album," Maxx asked me to tell you. "None of you want me coming back to Philly in December, broke as a joke and mooching, bummed 'cause I didn't make it and then I'm all like, "Hey anybody wanna see my ass?'" We all remember that period, and it wasn't pretty. Anyone who's seen Maxx's naked ass and would like to never see it again, pay in. … Alison Polsky's rickety Convert to 8 Bit properly drops its debut somnabu-lectro CD, The Generation of Sleep, with a gig at Bar Noir July 11 that also hooks up her bassist with an opening gig: Steve Donnelly, whose metal machine Notch 45 is currently recording its debut. Grr. … Not only has NPR picked up exclusive national distribution rights to WXPN's World Café and Conversations from the World Café, but while y'all weren't looking, World Café Live's Hal Real has perhaps struck a deal with Mark Cuban's hi-def TV thang, letting the Cuban one shoot a live-music-program pilot with the as-messed-up-as-always Me'Shell Ndeg-unspellableafteralltheseyears for HDNet. … Wonder why you haven't seen gal-about-town/Tweeter Center promotrix Donna Coghlan around? She upped and left fast to do the same for House Of Blues Concerts, Inc. in Atlanta. … That Fridge Fest thing I mentioned is gaining steam. Nick@ratconference.com is interviewing actors, dancers and artists for three shows within September's Fringe fest at Spirit Wind Performance Space, including installations in refrigerators. Brr. … Last weekend — and atso no good — down went Stephen Starr's tony ruby-red Italiano Angelina on Seventh and Chestnut (where do I go for mega-bucks sauseeege?) and the decade-plus Little Pete's 3 at 1904 Chestnut (guess I'll have to walk to 17th for liver 'n' onions) … WHOWHATWHERE (LIVE8CLUSTERFUCK): While last Friday saw the Bon Jovi Live 8 soiree at Ritz-Carlton attended by great white yawn Rob Thomas, the Will Smith red-carpet bash at the Armory on 23rd St. was the must-be: a funkfully-done-up gigundo-bar that found not only Smith rapping and spinning with old partner Jazzy Jeff, but Kanye West, Don Cheadle, Jada Pinkett Smith and some Black Eyed Peas in tow. Yes, even Jon Bon showed. (Though the Rittenhouse Hotel held Smith, Josh Groban, Natalie Portman and Stevie Wonder, who took four hours to sound-check on Friday, no mud sharks or flying TVs were witnessed from such a rowdy bunch). While most L8 participants left like ants from an empty picnic, a few diehards continued on. After what must've been the most boring dinner ever — with Sarah McLachlan at Morimoto — Groban partied-on-Garth at the Cashman/Blender party at 32° with the un-riddable Kaiser Chiefs and MTV-ites Sway and Rachel Perry. (Apparently Groban had to explain to scads of people, since Thursday, who he was. Now you tell me. ) Across town, PaperStreet not only hosted those MTVers along with Vikter Duplaix, King Britt and James Poyser at Denim's VIP lounge; MC Lyte threw several glasses of tequila (hers and Perry's) on her hosts, Robert Norton and Tommy Up, after a picture-snapping session went quickly wrong. No mas. Everyone kissed, made up and boozed up. Then there was Monday's Philadelphia Freedom HIV/AIDS fundraising concert and ball with Elton John. Produced/hosted by PGN's Mark Segal — who supposedly told Jimmy Smits backstage at Live 8 that he should run for president — the gala and gig seemed smooth. Even seeing Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld Fund (the local fund where part of the gala's proceeds will be routed) board member Vince Fumo in angel wings couldn't screw up the good cheer. "I think you should wear those the next time you head to Harrisburg," joked MC/birthday hot-sauce-boss Jerry Blavat in his museum introduction to Fumo. "You're gonna need them." And no one brought up rumors of a botched private helicopter port for Elton. The hitch? The Patti LaBelle rehearsal bitch-raising meltdown wherein Philly's fair lady supposedly went ballistic when Elton — after LaBelle flew in background singers for the occasion — reneged on their promised live duet on "Your Song," a John tune on Patti's new CD. "Who does he think he is?" our spies heard her shout, demanding Elton's attention on the phone. "This is my town." Yeah, it is.