Following a set by a homicide-justifying German boy in a Cracker Jack sailor suit mumbling over the off-keyist keyboards and some faux “bringin’ back hard rock” jokers who posed a lot, the blazing band Group Sounds started their super-sonic West Coast stopover from hometown New York at The Echo Sunday night.

They kicked ass, with a sexually charged show of hard catchy rock, with a slow striptease and energetic performance from keyboard fanatic Sexy Joe. Manager Swervin’ Eric Irvin kept the crowd equally pumped, loudly promising a debauched after-party at skeevy skin-club, Jumbo’s Clown Room. We look forward to seeing Group Sounds again in Los Angeles soon…cuz we likes to dance and bang our heads!!

Group Sounds Myspace Page

Wilshire Blvd. and Westwood Blvd.

Moving Units At The Avalon ~ Hollywood

Popular homeboys Moving Units came back to show us some love with promotion of Dim Mak and their guru Steve Aoki (he of the hot sister Devon- who is obsessed with me) on the wheels. The Units got the crowd insane, while also debuting great new songs from a possible forthcoming album. The songs were rockers and, despite a less enthusiastic reaction from the hits-loving crowd, showed signs of –red-flag– ARTISTIC GROWTH AND MATURITY!!

Please somebody send our boys some heroin before it’s too late…

Venice Blvd. & Clyde Ave. ~ Mid-City

Late-70’s Jamaican dancehall sensation Brigadier Jerry hit the stage of the Echo Wednesday night, bubblin’, grindin’ and whinin’ his way into the hearts of fans new and old alike.

Jerry sounded in top-form, even besting the Dub Club’s solid young dancehall dee-jays who bubble every week on history’s most classic reggae dub-plates. Jerry even occasionally bust out the underwater vocal style found on some of his best recordings. Massive RASpect to the General a da yard, rrrrrrrrright?!

(Continued)

Sawtelle Blvd.-Soemwhere oustide Giant Robot

Those who do, do. Those who can’t, teach…or live off the inheritance and hard work of their talented dead kin. So it seemed when Frida Tequila had its launch in Los Angeles at the home of busty blonde collector Michael Scott. Although one poor schoolteacher started the night by falling into the Jacuzzi (that’s why we don’t invite nerds to parties), things went more smoothly as Frida’s niece and grandniece cavorted with mariachis, press, spirit salesmen, partygoers, and a bevy of hot chicks over shrimp tostadas and papaya margaritas.

We always hoped to be Hef when we reached 30, but the accommodating Michael Scott actually lives that dream, while we slave away at non-profit work. In addition to a giant mansion that used to belong to Eddie Murphy, Scott has amassed a game room, two hot tubs buttressing an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a garage holding a Harley and a new Rolls, and is working on the construction of a petting zoo and grotto (no shit). We’d like to say something bad about Michael and his menagerie of perfect breasts because we are a jealous bunch of haters, but the guy was pretty nice and secretly our new hero. Plus, we wouldn’t mind being invited over for one of his “less-PG-rated” parties as he put it while hitting on our date.

Mmmmmmmnnnn…though we’re Taco people, we rocked the tamale festival, right on the border of the a-maize-ing installation It’s Not A Cornfield (we don’t actually know if it’s that cool but couldn’t resist the pun). Tamale vendors came out from all over Cali, though mostly representing the south. In addition to the normal carnival games and handcrafts being sold, were a contest for the best tamale, cooking classes and an eating contest. Some of our favorites included amongst the 100+ vendors, representing tamales from Mexico, Cuba and Costa Rica among other countries, was Mom’s Tamales from Pasadena and El Pavo from Monterrey. We had just about everything we wanted there, except more room in our bellies.

Los Angeles, C.A.