These days it takes more and more to get me excited to go to shows, which is why I was particularly surprised to have been so blown away by The Liars at the Middle East Upstairs last night. Certainly one of the most original four pieces I've seen in quite a while. They are a storm brewing on stage. From the outset of each song you can see the cloudy skies and feel the winds warning you of what's to come. As the song progresses, the winds turn to gale force and the hurricane takes shape. The guitarist, bass player, and singer each take turns manipulating loops and effects to supplement the thumping bass and drum beats. I wasn't incredibly keen to go to a late show on a Thursday night, but these guys kicked my butt. I heard inklings of older Dischord bands like Circus Lupus and particularly ¡The Nation of Ulysses!, but I mean that only as a compliment for they are anything but recycled. To invert The Hives catchphrase, The Liars are crime and you are law. And the law ain't got a chance.

The big meeting is finally behind me (they've even removed the links to it from the society web page). Very good experience on the whole ... heard lots of cool ideas and my presentations were very well received. It was tough, considering that I usually work hard all week to sleep in on the weekends. Last week I worked furiously to prepare for the meeting, and when Saturday came my alarm was going off at 6am so I could catch the T and be at the meeting by 8am. Ick.

So now I'm allowing myself to relax a bit, although now my work focus shifts from preparing presentations to writing papers, which only slightly less stressful but at least a calmer affair in general. Veronica and I managed to finally watch The Filth and the Fury, the Sex Pistols documentary from 2000. As I've written previously in this journal, the Sex Pistols are a mixed bag for me. Of course, I have to respect the radical change in mentality they brought about in the music scene. Countless bands that I admire were formed in the wake of the Pistols revolution. However, you listen to these guys prattle on and you realize that they're all idiots. Johnny Rotten/Lydon is quick to claim that Malcolm McClaren never controlled the Sex Pistols, but you have to suspect that McClaren knew exactly how to put these drunken pricks in situations that would generate the kind of press and publicity that he craved. The feud is more legend than reality at this point, as was true with the far superior 24 Hour Party People. However, unlike the Factory story where the folly of it all takes center stage, The Filth and the Fury comes off as a platform for everyone to spin the story to make themselves out as the saint. Johnny Rotten crying about the "tragic" death of Sid Vicious was the epitome of the film's failed attempts to manipulate public sentiment.

On the slate for this week is The Liars at the Middle East tonight, then Le Tigre and Mary Timony of Helium at the Roxy on Friday, followed by a jaunt down to NYC for Saturday and Sunday to do nothing in particular. And the now ever-present paper writing at work.

I managed to squeeze a viewing of 24 Hour Party People into my busy weekend. I'd been pretty eager to finally see a dramatization of the whole Factory Records evolution, but when I finally got into my seat I was strangely nervous, as if I was suddenly afraid the whole thing was going to be terrible. Ten minutes into the film my nervousness hadn't abated, although I was giggling consistently at Steve Coogan (a.k.a British fake talk-show host Alan Partridge ... "A HAAA!") playing Factory mastermind Tony Wilson.

After leaving the theater two hours later, I can confidently say my anxiousness was for naught ... this movie is brilliant. Instead of taking a documentary approach, the film refuses to identify the line between history and legend. Tony Wilson speaks freely to the camera about the events unfolding, and assorted persons pop in to state that they don't remember this or that particular incident ever happening. The film is a celebration of the music and Tony Wilson's efforts to further that music.

Live footage of the bands of the era(s) are spliced into the story, which works particularly well within the framework of the handheld shots making up the majority of the film. Some may be wary of actors trying to fill the shoes of such icons as Ian Curtis, but I felt that most of the roles were filled wonderfully. A few notable exceptions: I thought the actor playing Joy Division manager Rob Gretton looked more like Peter Hook, and the actor playing Happy Mondays bassist Paul Ryder wasn't cast nearly as well as his brother, Happy Mondays head-lunatic Shaun Ryder.

It's a movie that caters to me on all levels. Definitely worth seeing. As for the other movie I saw this weekend, Pootie Tang, I can say only "wa-da-ta".

The usual excuses ... I'm busy, nothing to say, yadda yadda yadda. I promise to be by more often. No, really.

Our new Mac has hardly been the model of reliability that Apple would have you believe. It has died twice in the month and a half since our purchase. Both times, our helpful friends at the Apple Store looked at it, shrugged, and went in the back to get us a brand new one. Never mind that in both cases Veronica had just finished uploading and organizing all the data from her old computer, including her 13 gigabytes of mp3s. Now we use it, half wondering how long this one will hold up. The first one suffered a monitor failure, the second just wouldn't start at all. I spent a while wondering what we were doing wrong, now I'm convinced we're getting faulty machines. If the damn things would stay running, I may get a chance to make this website Mac-compatible. This is doing more than little to dampen my enthusiasm to get myself a 20 gigabyte iPod. On a positive technical note, I just got a new 2.4 gigahertz Pentium 4 desktop at work, with 1 gigabyte of RAM, a DVD-ROM drive, and a 40x CD burner. The monster rips MP3s at 20x! And I guess it does science-type things pretty well, too.

I'm currently working furiously to prepare for a big scientific conference my boss is organizing. It's a week from Saturday, here in Boston (no nifty travel for this meeting). I'm presenting two papers, one as a 15 minute talk and the other as a poster. This is the last time I submit two abstracts to a meeting. I thought I would be a go-getter and impress people, now I'm spending every waking minute trying to get these presentations together. Ack.

No hip new musical news. I saw Velvet Goldmine a few weeks ago, now I can't get Brian Eno's "Baby's On Fire" out of my head. Last night I was annoying Veronica by doing my best Jello Biafra impression, shouting "Let's Lynch The Landlord", so this morning I've got the Dead Kennedy's Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables playing on my Winamp. I'm getting a little antsy to see the Factory Records retrospective 24 Hour Party People, which is released this Friday (except in Los Angeles and New York, where the lucky buggers have been able to see it for a week now). My current musical moods have been centering on Bauhaus, Belle & Sebastian, Curve, Echo and the Bunnymen, 808 State, The Go-Betweens, The Orange Peels (SF ... gotta repra-zent), and Iggy Pop (another Velvet Goldmine-spurred interest). Fore some reason, my random Winamp playlist keeps coming back to U2's "All I Want Is You". Another song that makes me wonder about all those U2-haters. The video is great too.

Be back soon...