Big Trouble In Little 5 Points Celebrates Mayor of Ponce’s Birthday @ Star Bar, August 20

This month's Big Trouble in Little 5 Points is going to play host to a ton of music from some familiar faces in new packages.

As always, the gig is at Star Bar on the third Thursday of the month (August 20) and is FREE!

MAYOR OF PONCE: Rock & Other Four Letter Words

Stuff I think about, but not thoroughly…

·         I was driving through Mobile, Alabama the other day and saw a flier for a hip hop group called “Mobil-anaires”. That’s pretty awesome. Right off the bat and they're already more interesting than the dreadfully boring Selmanaires.

·         Why does Janelle Monae always look so surprised in her photos…

Or doing magic. From Outer Space.

·         What the hell ever happened to Lil Jon? He’s probably off in his glittery lab trying to merge Crunk and country. Look out for “Crunktry” music, annoying people Fall of 2009.

·         And what the hell ever happened to the new Outkast record that was finished along with their two solo records!?!  Didn’t we hear about that forever ago? Forever-ever ago??

Get it together, boys.

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MAYOR OF PONCE: All That Twitter’s Isn’t Gold

I'm beginning to like this whole Spring cleaning chore. Now let's move on towards the soul. Maybe someone should inquire what the rate at Cactus is for a bumper to bumper soul cleansing.

I wrote this piece last summer at seemingly the height of annoyance of local promoters (selves included). The "Topless" party went away after a month or two, Sloppy Seconds is all yawns now, and even the prickly Preston Craig has mellowed  a bit in the light of his own glow stick.

But recently, a running joke with some of my friends (yes, I have them) is starting to get old. Party promoter Caleb Guage's mass text assaults are at an all-time annoyance. Tuesday through Saturday he's lighting up everyone's Sprint bill like a Christmas tree.

And it's not necessarily the non-stop texting I mind, I'm all for anyone throwing great events in Atlanta, It's everything else about it. Not only do I not want to go to the W in midtown for $12 cocktails I can't afford with people who act like they can, but I don't want to be constantly reminded about it with text that read like a 14 year old girl on crack, "YO:Smoke & MIrr0rss// 2-nite// {W MIDTOWN}////+DJ P00p Sc00p on the tablez+DreSS -2- MOLESTE!!!<>"

I just wanted to get that out. Spring cleaning, is all. And yes, I do get the joke that i'm probably one of the all-time worst at shameless self promoting. But that's just it, a joke.

All that Twitter's isn't gold.

A PARTY WITH A CLOUDY VIEW

                Style over substance, form before function – these are the guidelines. Atlanta's professional partiers have taken their act to another level, in the literal and figurative sense.

                "Topless," the F*n Socialites new Thursday night weekly atop the downtown Glenn hotel is the spot to be for our cities hipster neon nation. Whether you want to actually look down on the people you think you're better than or party closer to the stars where some think they belong, the roof top venue is a fitting one.

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MAYOR OF PONCE: WEREWOLVES OF ATLANTA

The first of Spring is upon us. In the midst of Spring cleaning I found an old outtake from my brief and disastrous CL days that's still applicable.  Enjoy… 

In route to the downtown Hilton, I’m listening to Dave FM, "I see a werewolf drinking a pina colada at a Trader Vic’s. And his hair… was perfect."

It’s meant to be. Warren Zevon says so. It’s the first day of spring. All the good people in Atlanta are jogging or riding their bikes in fear of bathing suit weather. Me, not so much. I go to a tiki bar.

Trader Vic’s is a place I’ve always heard about and wanted to go, but somehow never have. It’s a chain hotel bar. Chain as in places like London and Tokyo, not Stockbridge and Lawrenceville.

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GET BOMBED FOR OBAMA: 12 Hours of Drinking at Manuel’s Tavern – Mayor of Ponce

On behalf of AMG, I apologize this wasn’t written in a timely manner. But it took a team of six CIA translators to decode my notes taken from this event. All is written to the best of my ability. Scouts honor…

As of high noon, January 20^th, George W. Bush is unemployed. It’s both ironic and sad on different levels. And after eight years of stumbling and fumbling on Pennsylvania Ave, we celebrate this dipshit leaving office. Standing shoulder to shoulder, putting pints in the air at one of Atlanta’s oldest, and certainly most political, bars Manuel’s Tavern,  I get absolutely shit faced from 11 in the a.m., to 11 in the p.m. All for a former alcoholic, frat boy, cokehead do we celebrate in such a manner. Yes, both ironic and sad on many levels.

So, stumbling and fumbling on North Ave- Let’s get bombed for Obama!

Cheers.

10:50 a.m.           Riding around outside Manuel’s Tavern and I can’t find a parking place. Up and down side streets, wrong way on one ways, this place is more packed than George and Laura’s shit at 1600. I decide to throw it in behind the laundromat at Buddy’s. Fuck it. Surely they won’t tow me. Buddies don’t do that to one another, right?

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GOODTIMES & GREAT OLDIES: Part 2 of 3, Mayor of Ponce

“Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you”

Rick Astley had it right. Sure, he wasn’t talking about Atlanta radio – more than likely it was someone with a side spike and turquoise jean shorts. But it still translates. No matter how outdated and behind the times, some people will never give up what they’re familiar to. Like reading the AJC on actual newsprint rather than on a computer screen, or trying to make a “super booty dance party” playlist on an iPod you don’t know how to work. The unfamiliar can be quite terrifying.

                And what the hell is a Blu-ray? DVD’s still work, right?

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Good times and great oldies – Mayor Of Ponce

I don’t have a CD player in my car. As a matter of fact, I don’t even own an I-pod. Hard to believe that a happening 28-year old dude rolls around the city on the same tech-wave as your grandparents. Cruising to Clark Howard or the Kimmer, getting news and traffic on the 20’s- That’s 20 minutes to and from the hour, not 20’’ rims.  And that’s me. Hip to be square. 

Huey Lewis is shrugging his shoulders.

I’ve had an I-pod before, but it was stolen when I left it backstage for a few days at MJQ in my record bag. They left the shitty records, though. Thanks. I didn’t care much either way. Whether it be a Walkman or a girlfriend, if you really care about something, you probably shouldn’t take it to MJQ, much less leave it in a back room for a few days.

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Mayor of Ponce: BEST OF THE REST

BEST OF THE REST

This week Creative Loafing’s biggest issue of the year came out, The Best of Issue. I was asked to pick and write 5 categories for CL’s own critic’s picks. Well, they printed a couple and couldn’t find anything about Deerhunter or Janelle Monae in the others.

I kid, I kid.

It is nice to see my words in ink again. But seriously CL, bring back the music section!

Raging Election outtakes…

Best Bar to Hook Up: PEACHTREE TAVERN

      Been striking out at trendy, V.I.Look At Me clubs in midtown? Well, put your Polo shirt and flip flops back on and give Buckhead the ole college try again.

      Peachtree Tavern is a bare bones, bar stools and beer signs party bar. Caring less about aesthetics and more about the simplistic needs of today’s youth- sex, Jägar, and rock n’ roll.

      If the karaoke and Cruë cover bands aren’t holding your evening’s attention, simply walk 30 feet to the adjacent bars (Moon dog’s and Hole in the Wall) for even more talent rich square footage. And if you leave your "A" game at home, no worries. With the unpretentious crowd, your "C+" might have you rounding second with a former Auburn sorority girl by your second round of shots.

      Game on.

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Mayor of Ponce- In the studio with the Black Lips

I joined the Black Lips in their studio last weekend for some drinks and camaraderie. So much much camaraderie that only half my notes were legible by the time we left for a party…

MOVING ON UP In Studio with Black Lips

It was at last years SouthxSouthwest. The one where the Atlanta music scene became known from sea to shinning sea. I was at a taco stand one morning looking at Black Lip’s Cole Alexander front and center on the cover of the Austin Times . I fold the top of the paper down and there he was standing in the parking lot. Right in front of me, breakfast burrito in hand. He was wearing a "Bart Sanchez" t-shirt from Tijuana that had our antagonist Bart with a sombrero, knife and bottle of whatever "XXX" is.

So many parrallels. Perfectly weird.

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Mayor Of Ponce: Wayfarers of Summer

WAYFARERS OF SUMMER

  I was in the car and Don Henley’s "Boys of Summer" came on. I’d forgotten how great of a song that was/ is, no matter how big a prick Don Henley was/ and probably still is. My Favorite line is near the end, "I can seee you. Brown skin shinnin’ in the suun. Ya got yer hair slicked back… way-farers on baaa-by".

God, I love that. It gives you such an amazing visual. At least to me it does. And it’s a great thing when a song can add that sense to it as well. You can hear it AND see it. Chills.

It’s beautiful how some songs can give you a cinematic moment. Like when you read a book, you make your own movie in your head. Springsteen comes to mind. But I’m less talking about entire stories put to music, more just a one line in a song that gives an image that you’ve swear you’ve touched. You know you’ve been there.

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Trouble Shooting with Palmettos Pt. 2

"I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. Life moves pretty fast. And if you don’t stop to look around every once in a while, you just might miss something.”

Sometimes, the remedy is as simple as a good road trip. If anything, only to get away from your problems and routine for a few days. Different towns give a different perspective on shit- tomfoolery and a tan doesn’t hurt either.

Riding in The Hiss van has always been a treat. I’ve been from England to Austin with these boys and theirs always sparks of brilliance out of a necessity from boredom. Truck stops usually providing comic relief. Wacky t-shirts and whacked out locals never dim the applause light. Or George Reece (bass) explaining the truck stop chapels- Actual tractor trailers that have been transformed into roadside holy hot boxes, sometimes with a kick-ass mural on the side with Jesus, maybe truckers, and if you’re lucky, a lightning bolt. He says they have pews inside but no preacher, just a T.V. and VCR with a tape you pop in. I ask would it be wrong to steal the tape?

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Mayor Of Ponce: Troubleshooting With Palmetto’s (Part 1)

Mayor Of Ponce needs an outlet. Here goes everything…

“Life moves pretty fast. And if you don’t stop to look around every once in a while, you just might miss something.”

Palm trees. I don’t know how they do it, but they can have an amazing effect you. It’s not scientifically proven, but I’m pretty sure they release some sort of chemical endorphin in your brain that makes you feel better. Gives you a careless confidence. And in the right light, a nice breeze, and on the fringe of an afternoon buzz, they can sometimes make all your problems go away.

With the summer months wearing thin and the sight of the same city faces wearing thinner, an impromptu road trip with the boys is welcome relief from the dog days of August. In a last minute decision, I join The Hiss in a weekend romp through the Sunshine State. The same trip we made last spring where we self appointed ourselves to a fictional state department. The Department of Nightlife.

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