My arm is killing me from some ice-related shenanigans last week, but a Yeah Yeah Yeahs tour? Like Tylenol. I can't say I'm excited to see them like I'd be excited to see, say, PJ Harvey. But they're probably top five, definitely in the top ten of bands I'd like to see live. See you on April 3, em-effers.

On an unrelated note, am I the only one to just find out queen-of-the-MP3-blogosphere Imogen Heap is the singer from God-that-band's-song-was-perfect-in-Garden-State Frou Frou? Huh.

I totally droped the ball yesterday: the Veronicas got reviewed by the Post and I forgot to link to it, even after discussing how the Watson twins creep me out. The Veronicas, on the other hand, they don't creep me out.

I have to begin by pointing out this sentence in Bill Simmons' ESPN column:

"On the other hand, I would have missed ESPN's party, which Snoop Dogg ignited with an hour-long performance that left everyone downright delighted."

Has anyone, in all seriousness, described a Snoop Dogg performance in such a way? Not that Snoop's a hack at all, just that... it "left everyone downright delighted"? Has anyone ever in the history of the world had anything close to this conversation:

Q: How was the Snoop Dogg concert?
A: Two words: Downright delightful.

No. But I will say this: Jenny Lewis' album? Downright delightful. I've only listened to it once all the way through and it's the berries. Gospel, country, torch songs... it's got it all. My one gripe is that it doesn't sound so much like an album as much as a collection of songs; a little-bit-rushed collection of songs at that. But every other song, I think "This would be great on a mix tape." And in my world, that's high praise.

Those Watson twins, on the other hand? Effing creepy. But I'm biased: I've always been freaked out by identical twins.

A few notes while listening to Glen Campbell:

• I preemptively dislike the Arctic Monkeys. Am I being unfair?


• The first rule of a neighborhood bar: you don't PR youself out as a neighborhood bar. If you do, it's just a theme, and themes are for Planet Hollywood. I'm calling you out, Bourbon ('"I think that neighborhood bars are the wave of the future for D.C.,' says General Manager Stephen King").


• That being said, I fully support the Tune Inn on Capitol Hill. Keep an eye out for my Family Law professor if you're there.


• That Michael Stipe song on iTunes? Does nothing for me. The Faith Hill/Tim McGraw song? Still kills me. And I realize that by admitting as much I've created a rift in the space-time continuum and a version of myself from 10 years ago has been sent on a mission to kill me. Eh, I've had a good run. (Not really.)

Are we purposely keeping it under wraps that the Hammersmith concert on the Born to Run reissue is coming out on CD at the end of the month? Or that it's available right now on iTunes? Or am I just behind the times?

It seems that most of the Black Cat caught the confrontation between a customer and bartender at the end of the Hold Steady set. Same dude got called out some guy in a trucker hat (not Ashton Kutcher) at the beginning of the set as well.

Anyone know his story or what happened last night? The guy looked like a failed writer; I actually kind of felt sorry for him. (But not really.) What did he get called out for both times?

I bought a half-pitcher of Yuengling, a burger, and a new rock t-shirt. So starting from right there, last night was better than most. There were no temporary tattoos, but I got a pin that says "Damn right you'll rise again".

It's funny how I knew before I saw the Hold Steady how the lead singer would act. One hand on the microphone, leaning into the crowd, guitar strapped to his body unplayed. And I thought it would bother me, but I'm so sold on this band right now I'll buy whatever they're selling. It's like Stockholm Syndrome. Hell, I was even considering buying the ironic t-shirts before I realized I'm almost 30. On record, their charm is the twisting story that runs through Seperation Sunday; live, it's just that they bring rock. They didn't stick to Separation Sunday or the chronology of that album (although you could argue that there isn't a chronology, no timeline, beyond the final two songs). They went with old stuff, unreleased stuff, and left out what I felt was a healthy chunk of the album that brought the crowd. Didn't matter. Everyone's said it: they're a bar band. You smoke and you drink and you sing along. That's pretty much the definition of a good night out. When you see them live, it's not some grand intellectual or spiritual thing. It wasn't a resurrection, not like you may find at a Springsteen show. It's just good music played loud, songs about stoned kids in the midwest. (If I wrote for the Post I might point out that they have a lot of energy. I don't write for the Post.) And for $10 on a Wednesday night in the middle of a shit week, yeah, it's all I could want.

One last thing: Don't you hate it when someone's complaint about a show was what the band didn't play some song? Yeah, me too. Anyway, where the eff was "How a Resurrection Really Feels"? That's my jawn.

Compare and contrast, by a certain Washington Post music reviewer. Arcade Fire, from exactly one year ago today: "While its simplistic musical style and histrionic vocals had little substance, the Arcade Fire is certainly to be admired for its extreme and unwavering physicality." Bachelor Bob Guiney: "While Guiney's lyrics did sometimes veer into romantic cliches ("All the world just fades away/the moment that you're close to me"), he and his band remained energetic throughout." Spooky and a little odd. Bob gets off easier. Let's see how the Hold Steady fares in tomorrow's paper. (Oh, is that tonight? I didn't even realize.) Maybe they'd get a better review if the midget from "The Littlest Groom" comes on and plays tambourine.

And yes, there's something to be said for someone who remembered not only that particular Arcade Fire review, but that it was written by the same writer as the Bachelor Bob review, and it still sticks in that certain someone's craw. And that something to be said is: I am awesome

Also, Lindsey Lohan injured herself. On a broken teacup. While tripping down some stairs. At Bryan Adams' house. Perchance, is there anything else we should know?

"She had just come out of the shower so she was still wet and had some lotion on."

Oh my.