Shimmy Shimmy ha-choo!

Kids, just say “no” to smokes, but “yes” to squats: Zach Hill (left) and Zac Nelson take a break from recording their new project Chll Pll last week in Midtown.

Kids, just say “no” to smokes, but “yes” to squats: Zach Hill (left) and Zac Nelson take a break from recording their new project Chll Pll last week in Midtown.

Photo By Shoka

Synth labs and douchebags: Midtown was the place to be on Super Bowl Sunday, “the one true American holiday,” according to Matt Johnson of Brooklyn’s Matt and Kim. The duo kicked out several jams off its new record at Luigi’s Fun Garden, along with old classics, including kick-ass minute-long covers of Europe’s “The Final Countdown” and Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya,” the latter which I fear was lost on the 50 percent of the crowd born after 1991. The Bananas also delivered a slammin’ dose of garage punk, and crowd-surfing was in full effect, which is always good because it tends to weed out the pussies in the front near the stage. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything for assholes. Seriously, dudes from Reno: If you drive three hours to come see a show, don’t treat the venue like shit. Lesson learned—spitting on the mixing board puts you on the fast track to getting your ass manhandled. (Derek Nielsen)

Electro-pology 101: Don’t forget Blue Lamp (1400 Alhambra Boulevard) just because it’s off the grid. The back part of the club—boothlike seating, miniature cocktail tables, walls of lively artwork—is chill. The front area, at least last Friday night at Anthem—a roaming deejay scene courtesy of Jon Droll, Shaun Slaughter, Adam J and Sam I Jam—is ideal for dance parties, be it New Year’s or no particular occasion.

I played wallflower over a glass of red wine in the back, discussing the virtues of Redding, but also taking the opportunity to study a dance floor’s evolution. My notes:

No surprise, dance crowds start late, around 11:30 p.m. And, contrary to most social norms, women kick them off. For the Charlie Rose bunch, these women are typically mid-20s, gangly and move with at once the deliberateness and limitations of a spelunker. Or the twisting and pop of a corkscrew.

It’s sexy, almost patently so; someone should trademark that willowy electro wiggle, which, like hip-hop, owes its ass to bass.

God bless deejays and turntablists.

There’s a threshold for these ladies, however, namely vulture chaps infringing on a no-fly zone. On a so-so busy night, as it was at Anthem, this takes about three-and-a-half tracks. Then the women bail. But there’s hope, however: drinks, then repeat.

Upcoming dates by those involved: Slaughter’s Bravado, every Thursday night at Mix (15th and L streets); Droll’s Anthem-night info at; DJ Roger Carpio, 20,000, the Snobs and Audrye Sessions this Wednesday, February 11, at Blue Lamp. (Nick Miller)

Nip/Tuck/Bush: Since everyone has the goddamn flu right now, this might pass the time: First, rent the show Nip/Tuck and watch it from start to finish. That kills a lot of spare hours with some serious deviant behavior. But just so you’re warned: In the show, a teen sleeps with a highly passable transsexual, there’s some incest, cocaine is snorted off of an ass, there’s a lot of gore, a bit of midget infidelity, dog lust—pretty much, if something walks across the screen, someone or something is sure to have sex with it. Plus, the theme song (“A Perfect Lie,” an Engine Room remix by Gabriel & Dresden) is so horrible that it’ll get stuck in your head for weeks. Sick or not, watch the show.

Oh yeah, music: Our friend Mahtie Bush has been so busy that he only text messages 100 times a day now. And in fact, his latest project, a podcast called Hate Is Love, is hosted by none other than Chino XL, the Puerto Rican Superhero, the Illest Man Alive, the Lyrical Jesus, the Poison Pen and some other pseudonyms. It’s cool to see Bush’s hard work paying off with his connections to some high-profile figures in the music industry. One of the craziest things about this podcast, aside from boasting some new and classic Bush tracks, is that it’s mixed by Immortal Technique’s deejay, DJ G.I. Joe. It’s like the hot sauce on the burrito, if you will. G.I. Joe gives Bush’s tracks a revolutionary edge that brings him out of local-rapper status and puts him just on the perimeter of the national circuit. If he can just harness this momentum, in the near future we might be as sick of Bush as we are of 50 Cent or P. Diddy. He can only hope. Download the podcast for free at (Josh Fernandez)