Ignore the Name, Get Your Dance On

When I first heard the name of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, I had a certain kind of band in mind. I recalled a show when I was 15 in some sweaty basement/art space that featured people with asymmetrical haircuts beating up their instruments and crying, the whole crowd dressed in confused vintage 50s garb. I didn't get it then and I still don't, but just in case I was wrong, I hightailed it to Last.fm to take a listen. I was wrong- I heard catchy lo-fi pop that made me want to dance right there in my room. I finally agreed to accompany my boyfriend to the show at Cambridge's Middle East Night Club.

Money is tight these days- so I appreciated that The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are still unknown enough that they were playing in the smaller upstairs room of the club- even if it was a little crowded. 19 bucks got me a ticket and 2 beers, so cheers to that. I suffered through the first two bands, shifting my wool coat and giant purse and drink around, cursing myself for not leaving my stuff in the car. Finally a local band called Pants Yell gave a surprisingly decent set, decent enough that I forgot The Pains of Standing Still for Hours (not a band-- don't Myspace it!)

Then came The Pains. Two songs in and the whole room was- if not dancing- at least bobbing their heads enthusiastically. They had it all: great drums, great guitar, a boy singer, a girl singer who also played keyboard (and wore an awesome woolly sweater dress-- impressive considering it was 90 degrees in there.) The music was simple and full of nostalgia, yet still rockin. I'm still not convinced American rock will ever evolve for the better since the Ramones and the Misfits, but the Pains are doing it right. Plus, their frontman frequently says things like "Super, super thanks for coming to see us. Seriously, we really super appreciate it!" How can you not fall in love?

The show was a couple weeks ago, but the Pains of Being Pure at Heart are visiting several of the 50 states throughout March, April, and May. Go check them out!

"Twilight" Civil War

America is in the midst of a culture war folks. I'm not talking about conservatives versus liberals-- I just checked out goodreads.com, a social networking site for booklovers. "The Davinci Code" and a certain vampire series were in the top 5 on both the Best and Worst Books of All Time lists. Isn't it impressive that we are so perfectly divided even when it comes to literature? (If Dan Brown and Stephanie Meyer ran for president, who would win? It would be a close race, but my money's not on the dude who called out the Masons and Jesus.)

I like to think I'm not a book snob, but I was an English major, so I tend to stick to slightly weightier stuff. But some of you are nurses or accountants or you can play a mean guitar, so if you want to come home after a long day and read "The Notebook", I ain't hatin'.

But as a cultural force, literature remains strong. It's still seen as a predictor or indicator of national intellect, so it's a sensitive subject. Perhaps this is the reason some people make it their business to hate bestsellers? Maybe I've just missed it, but I've rarely seen so many people react hysterically against a movie or TV show (ignoring the movie versions of the aforementioned books.)

On a slightly unrelated note, does anyone else find that there isn't really a thriving "indie" book scene, as there is for music? It's unbelievably easy to find out about new bands, but rather difficult to find a book that's neither classic literature nor Oprah's book club. A recent New York Times article described how the number of budding authors is so outnumbering readers that writers are paying out of pocket to publish their books. No matter how corrupt the music industry is, even the lowliest of rock bands can usually play to an audience for free without actually losing money on the deal.

It's not a bad thing that a book becomes a hit, but are we missing out because of the demand for writing that is easily adapted to profit-winning TV series and films?

Date My Shoes

Let's take a moment to consider the importance of shoes on potential mates. Why a shoe, you ask? Eyes are the window to the soul, but shoes connect a woman to the earth. If you're going barefoot, that's a statement in footwear all the same. You might be subconsciously looking for a companion for this year's Burning Man. But the vast majority of you probably put on a pair of shoes today, and you're in the market enough to read this article.

The first real shoe lover I met was in college. His collection was enormous and consisted largely of my sneaker of choice, the Vans Slip On. I was smitten, because surely another individual willing to sacrifice sole support for style must be a worthwhile fellow indeed. On Monday I saw him in army green, on Tuesday a playful white-and-black checkerboard, and on Wednesday his sneaks were a simple, tasteful black paired with a matching polo shirt that revealed just a peek of tattoo. The birds sung loudly that day, the clouds cleared away and I went straight to canvas heaven.

If you're more of a stiletto meets Timberlands gal remember: it's not the type of shoe-- it's not necessarily even about shoes at all, but everyone grasps at ways to better judge potential dates. Relationships take so much effort that it's no wonder people imagine deeper commonalities based on aspects of outward appearance.

I did go on dates with sneaker boy, but it didn't work out after all-- I didn't have nearly enough sneakers to quench his thirst for foot fashion. His passion wasn't just for Vans, but for excess. I took him to a house party and he proceeded to raid the fridge for beer. He stashed seven cans under the couch so he could get sufficiently blitzed regardless of whether anyone else would be short a beverage or two. But I couldn't help myself. I was in a frenzy trying to keep up with him, and I lamented that my wardrobe was too sparse, my iTunes playlist too short, even my group of friends seemed insufficient.

Once the whole ordeal finally came to an end, I realized I should surround myself with people who share my passion for simple things. My friends and I watch the same movies repeatedly and wear our favorite hoodies until they are threadbare. We cook up a big dinner of whatever's in the fridge and cry when we have to move away from a tiny yet beloved apartment. What it comes down to is not the shoe but how you wear it. So, to my readers, two lessons. One, maintain your confidence and don't let anyone think you aren't worthy. And two, I hope you will take a close look at your potential mates and consider their commitment to their footwear. It just might save you from being tossed out with a (perfectly good but) gently used pair of Vans.