LA Weekly

CFIWest / Steve Allen Theater, Hollywood
May 7

(l-r) Scott Thompson, Dave Foley, Bruce McCulloch

A line of comedy fans dozens deep snaked around the corner of Berendo and Hollywood Wednesday night - and not all of them made it in - for a secret late-show warmup from the Kids in the Hall, about to embark on their North American summer tour. The Steve Allen Theater has been a cozy little home away from Tronno for the revered Canadian sketch comedy troupe in the past couple of years; all of them have performed and screened various projects at the Center for Inquiry West’s H’wood home, most recently Scott Thompson and Kevin McDonald's one-man shows. Last night's packed house was treated to "The Final Kiss," a hilarious gory short (makeup by KNB FX - gnarly!) co-starring Thompson and Dave Foley (and directed by Allen artistic director Amit Itelman), as well as a live set which while devoid of material from the upcoming tour nevertheless struck a chord (or several) with the die-hards in the audience.

Anyone who missed out is SOL for this Friday’s Orpheum Theater KITH show, which is sold out like a mutha. However, as Foley and Thompson noted at the top of the evening, The Grove of Anaheim gig is apparently still half empty for tonight. (“There are scalpers out on the street crying,” Foley noted. “Please come.”)

McCulloch and Kevin McDonald

Mark McKinney and Foley

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They're so sweet and innocent. Photos by Rena Kosnett.

Writing about the experience of seeing Tim & Eric’s Awesome Show Great Job! live on tour would be akin to dancing about architecture—some weird, fucked up architecture. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.

One certainty is that the live show is a thousand times better than seeing Tim & Eric on TV, or watching videos on Youtube, because in addition to watching and hearing them, you can smell and taste Tim & Eric as well. Some highlights: an instructional video about properly poisoning your child clown slave, Papa John’s email upgrades, a prayer for Robin Williams, enlarged testicle bodysuits, a video with John C. Reilly eating paninis prepared with horse grease and then saying "Ooh, it smells like horse."

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Props to those who actually managed to write coherant blog posts from Coachella on a daily/nightly basis. After spending about 1 1/2 hours in traffic leaving the fest Saturday night (which we hear is actually on the short side compared with others and would have been longer if not for some extremely aggressive driving) and trying to hook up with pals for the Spin magazine after-party (which we never found) around 1:30 a.m., we were worn and weary Sunday. Plus, we had to be out of our condo by 11 am, so there was no time to post the promised fashion pix Sunday morning.

Not that there was a terribly varied display of style statements from Saturday to Sunday. Even Friday's granola-head contingent were out in full force again, as was the ubiquitous empire-waist sun-dress, bikini tops, Chucks and flip-flops galore. But, as a whole, Coachella-ites fell into two categories: the neo-hippie hipster (headbands, big shades, peasant shirts and maxi-dresses, gladiator sandals) and the even more visually offensive 80's neon nomad (colored raybans, dayglow everything, ugly prints, uglier sneaks). The really trendy and/or freaky, blended both (ick!), and unfortunately many of the culprits were actually in the bands themselves.

See our Nightranger column this Thursday (and check back here on Friday) for reports from the parties we actually managed to find (BPM, Anthem), plus all the VIP section vacuousness, some (super-VIP) backstage boppin,' Prince gossip and our favorite performances.

For now, enjoy (or cringe at) these looks from the fest Saturday and Sunday.

ALL PHOTOS HERE BY LINA LECARO.

From left, Borat wanna-be, super hero from the band I'm From Barcelona after their set and Maxi dress mamas.


Gyrating gypsy gal: Is this a hot picture or what?

The "Let's Get Physical" look needs to take a rest already.


Two of our favorite Coachella sets (but not outfits!): From left, Sam Sparro rocks shutter shades and iridescent workout wear with Mark Ronson, and Does It Offend You Yeah's Morgan Quaintance does the Kid n' Play meets MIA day-glo-print look.

See Play for Coachella music coverage.

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One down. Two to Go!
Coachella Friday was actually very easy breezy. Okay, we left Thursday night thereby avoiding most traffic and we spent a big chunk of yesterday poolside at the BPM party (which was supposed to be Smurf-themed but didn't exactly turn out that way... more on this in our Nightranger column next week!).

Still, the feel at the fest itself was carefree, and felt a lot like a warm-up for the weekend ahead. The music was heavy on the melodic vibe (our faves so far: The Verve, The Black Lips, The Dap Kings) and the fashions had a decidedly hippy feel (Jack Johnson fans we're sure). For more on the music see PLAY, but for a quick glance of Coachella style look below.

Gathering of the tribes: Dread-headed hippies brought the whole kit and caboodle for their Coachella nests.


Rainbow Bright: Colored hair and clothing helps Coachella fellas stand out in the crowds.

Alison Goldfrapp abandoned her glam minx guise for a more earthy, Hari Krishna look. Unfortunately, her vocals were as flighty as a her get-up.

Hot weather hotties: "The less, the better" was definitely the order of the day clothing-wise for lotsa ladies. These gals took it to an extreme, but they were actually quite nice. If you have the body, why not wear next to nothing? The cool thing about Coachella is, you can wear stuff like this and not really get harassed.

Did all the hippies go home last night? Or did they sweat it up in the campground only be grungier than ever today? We'll see, but either way, we're fully expecting to see a Revenge of the 80's free-for-all style-wise, inspired by the blaring prints of MIA and the Purple One's eclectic retro looks. Check here tomorrow for another glimpse.

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Flight of the Conchords
Amoeba Records in-store, April 24

Clement (left) and McKenzie

There’s a lot of l’amour in this room tonight. The racks of CDs and LPs are sandwiched left and right with the faithful, who know every lyric and are toting signage of such desirous dedication as “Brit Bret, Will You Take Me To the Prom?” and the immortal “You’re So Hot, You’re Making Me Sexist.” Amoeba’s in-store performance for Flight of the Conchords’ debut LP is veritable fandemonium; it’s a long cry from the usual scenario on their HBO series, where they’re usually stuck in the corner of a dark basement New York club strumming to the delight of Mel (Kristen Schaal), their one and only fan.

Read on...

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How often have I had blissful dreams like the picture above? In the dream, I am hungry. Then some kind stranger appears from nowhere and smilingly hands me a huge pile of freshly melted, warm, buttery grilled cheese sandwiches.

But just like Mia Farrow said in Rosemary's Baby, "This is no dream, this is really happening."

On Saturday afternoon in Griffith Park the 1st 6th Annual Grilled Cheese Invitational took place, with hundreds showing up to grill and be judged. Hundreds more came for the free cheese sandwiches.

And while I've been genetically bred to despise corporate sponsorship of all kinds at all times, I must say there was something sweet about the Kraft table with it's Modern Times-esque production line of grilling, cutting, arranging and serving almost 2,000 sandwiches - and those were just the appetizers.

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Happy 4-20 friends! Yes, it's the unofficial toker holiday known as Four Twenty (which hardcore stoners actually celebrate every day, at 4:20 p.m.). We may or may not have been avid observers of this puff-fest back in college, but these days we get lethargic just thinking about it.

Still, there are some smokin' soirees happening today, and we plan to pop into a few of 'em. Thought we'd share a couple with those of you lucky to enough to check the blogs on weekends.

The Standard Hotel Downtown should be burnin' up when DJ Sneak spins for Traffic Events pool party today. He spins at -when else?- 4:20, but before and after, expect a roster of dance floor rousers and mind-blowing electro beats.

If we aren't (literally) burnt out after that we'll definitely be heading over to Safari Sam's where Rock City News (remember them?) hosts a bud bash with Drettie Page (see photo above), a pin-up for the pot generation who'll be giving out copies of her calendar to attendees. The invite also says Green Jello are performing, and anyone who remembers their strange stage spectacles knows to expect a riot. (Whether or not there's many of the original members from the "Three Little Pigs" era, we don't know).

Either way, Rosemary's Billygoat promises wicked wackiness (this is the band known for serving pentagram pizzas to the crowd while roasting plastic baby dolls on a spit).

Okay, a groovin' reggae night might be a preferable way to puff the night away, but for those fond of watching The Wizard of Oz while playing Dark of the Moon, bong in hand, this is the perfect night of high-jinx.

Oh and last time we checked marijuana was illegal, so if you're gonna partake (and we don't advocate it) do so before you go out and get a designated driver, just as you would if you were drinking.

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If you Google the phrase "Giant Joystick," one of the first names that comes up isn't a well-endowed porn star, but artist Jason Torchinsky, who actually built a scale-model of the classic Atari 2600 controller, except at 15x the size of the ones we had as kids.

Dozens of people showed up at Machine Gallery Thursday night to grab hold of that mighty stick with both hands to play Donkey Kong, Missile Command and Pac-Man projected to appropriately huge proportions on to the wall of the gallery.

(Projected game about 12 or 13 feet high)

Next door at the Echo Park Film Center the already-classic documentary King of Kong was playing, with the filmmakers in attendance, but come on - it's already on DVD, and you can listen to the director's commentary if you really want to know more about Billy Mitchell's hot sauce (And by the way, Billy Mitchell is again the reigning champion at the game, having beaten Steve Wiebe's score).

(Sorry for dark video, but the game had to be played in complete black to see the projection. Trust me, the screen is even bigger than the joystick...)

Read on...

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Heidi Montag may be the most annoying person on television (and that includes Donald Trump, Dr. Phil and the entire cast of every dating/singing/dancing/cooking "reality"/contest on the tube right now). Still, we were willing to give her new clothing line for Anchor Blue a chance. After all, we were pleasantly surprised by co-star Lauren Conrad’s show at LA Fashion Week (which by the way, never happened if you watched the gal "working" at the event at Smashbox on The Hills this week. Weird.).

Yeah A.B. is the teeny-bopper's Gap, but hey, we still find stuff in the Delia's catalog now and again, and we hoped there'd at least be some cute lil' sundresses or something. So we bopped over to Hollywood and Highland this weekend, dubbed “Heidiwood” for the night (heave!) to see the reality's star's big courtyard fashion show.

What a waste of $2 (for parking). Paris Hilton's line is more imaginative, and that's really saying something. The “fashions” consisted of blah t-shirts, slutty short-shorts (with pumps!) and ho-hum jeans, all modeled on winners of the “Heidi Look-a-like contest” aka every other blonde girl trying to be Jessica Simpson, The Girls Next Door, etc: bad extensions, spray tans, too much makeup.

They're marketing the line as indicative of the LA look/lifestyle and no matter how much it pains us to say this, this stereotypical boring bimbo style is popular here. As we left H&H and headed for the parking lot, we were enveloped by a procession of (skinny and plus-size) pussy posses in similarly skimpy crap, all headed to The Highlands nightclub on top floor.

Oh yeah, this line will sell like hotcakes....

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"Dante's Inferno": Hollywood Boulevard & Truck Turner
The New Beverly Cinema, April 11

The New Beverly Cinema’s runaway-hit series of director-programmed festivals has proved a rousing success so far, with slates lovingly prepared by the likes of Edgar Wright and Eli Roth. It was only a matter of time before the big guns came out to play... and by that measure, in the ranks of the geek garde Joe Dante is a bazooka. The director of The Howling, Gremlins and more recently, the outstanding Masters of Horror episode Homecoming (as incisive a commentary on the Iraq conflict as anyone's had the nuts to make yet); who cut his teeth as part of the New World/Roger Corman gang and who has reliably programmed as eclectic and fascinating a lineup as any New Bev guest helmer so far, delivered a solid one-two punch – plus guests! – on Friday night’s double bill before an always-appreciative crowd of giddy cinephiles.

(l-r) Miller, Dante, Arkush

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