Meet Your New Vocal Coach, Emma Michaelsen

Posted Posted in music, Uncategorized

Dear Errybody.

You like singing, right?  Sure you do!  We all like singin’!

Are you singing at your full potential?

Meet Emma.  Emma is a badass Swedish black metal singer with formal jazz vocal training.  She can teach you to sing any style.  She’ll help you figure out where your range is, and how to improve it.  I’ve been working with her for a year and have increased my range by a whoooooole octave, and solved a lot of my problems!  Not all of them!  Just the ones about singing!

Hit up this amazing vocalist and coach today- it’s Emma Michaelsen!

I Have A Dark Footish

Posted Posted in artsy fartsy, comedy, Gothic, halloween, karaoke, los angeles, music, portland

My friend Simon Max Hill is a hard-working casting agent who has been casting Portlandia, Nike spots, and other important television from his seat in Portland,OR.  He’s also an enthusiast of dancing, robots, and being a super weird generator of ideas at all times.  On Tuesday, he announced that it was my responsibility to make a sock puppet music video, and by Thursday I had it up.

  Here’s Dark Footish covering the Smiths.  And to the nice lady who said “Oh, this is great, I hope there’s more!”- it currently has 22 views.  I am the gothic Naomi Campbell of Youtube, I don’t get out of my coffin for fewer than 100 views.

Morrissey Does Not Have A Twitter Account

Posted Posted in Gothic, music


Despite the comforting blue “verified account” check on the @itsmorrissey account that showed up on Twitter this week and which has amassed 250,000 followers, Moz posted today on his True to You zine that he does not now and never has had a Twitter account:



16 May 2014

I would like to stress that I do not have either a Twitter or a Facebook account. I gather that a Twitter account has been opened in my name – as ‘It’s Morrissey’ – but it is NOT Morrissey. I do not know who has opened this recent Twitter account, but please be aware that it is bogus. That’s, of course, if you should remotely care.

Untwitterably yours,
Salt Lake City
15 May 2014.

Thank God, really.  What would Morrissey make of Twitter?  What would Twitter make of Morrissey?

Update: two days later, the twitter account @itsmorrissey was gone.  Oh twitterverse!  How mysterious you are.

Vampirism’s Downside

Posted Posted in comedy, Gothic, gothixxx, halloween, music, portland, trivia

When I was a young person, half out of my head with hormones and Anne Rice novels, I thought I wanted to be a vampire, because I thought living forever would be like SOOOO GREEEAT, and also I had the general idea that I would get multiple opportunities to make out with David Bowie, because I had watched the Hunger so many times that I wore out the rental tape from the Independence Parkway location Blockbuster in Plano, Texas.   (As you know, all the most sinister people rent from Blockbuster).  If I were a wampyr, (another way to say vampire!),  I would feel powerful and important and I would save a lot of money on food, and I would outlive all of my enemies, except for the very small percentage of them that also became vampires.  When you’re a young person and life feels like it’s full of infinite possibilities and people and combinations, so many paths to travel, this is an attractive concept.  It seems like there will never be enough time to read all you want to read and see all you want to see.  Twenty years later, you couldn’t pay me to be a dirty stinking undead vampire!  If I’m this sick of humanity and media right now, how bad would it be at 500?  There’s only fifteen different kinds of people in the world, and I’m sick to death of fourteen of them-  Also, if I lived forever, how many Spiderman remakes would I have to endure?  Who am I going to talk to?  Already, my interests and music references are met with blank looks of incomprehension by young people in bars.  What about the little girl vampire in Let The Right One In?  Two hundred years old, and all she gives a shit about is sucking blood and working a Rubik’s cube!  Who’s gonna talk to me about Robyn Hitchcock and Twin Peaks and Heathers in a hundred years?  Huh?  Answer me, goddammit!

Les Savy Fav at FYFFest: Things That Happened

Posted Posted in artsy fartsy, los angeles, music


The fat man came onstage in a poncho.  He took it off and spoke to us about free love.

The fat man was wearing a tie-dyed top, which he raised and began to soulfully fuck his own belly button with his finger.

The fat man took the top off to reveal a silver unitard, which he grabbed his crotch through.  He left the stage to clamber up a tree.

The fat man climbed into a tree and hung upside down in a silver unitard.

The fat man asked for all the lights to be turned off, and asked for flashlights.  He put one in his crotch.

The fat man got down to his underpants and sang to us.  He stood onstage with the unitard pulled down to his knees and danced under the lights, his sweaty torso gleaming in the lights.

The fat man draped himself in a beige dress, which he pulls up to his tits.

The fat man produced an 8 foot ladder.

The fat man sat onstage and decorated himself in 3/8” black electrical tape.

The fat man started to climb the ladder.  A roadie tried to steady the ladder while the fat man got on the top rung and was shooed away.  He stood on top of the ladder, singing majestically, while I worried that he would fall off.

The fat man tried to jump off the ladder and land on his feet, but had to tuck and roll.  He lays, grandiose and Dionysian, upon the stage and didn’t stop singing.

The fat man produces a tiny striped sweater.   He starts trying to put the sweater on.  The armpit rips out but he gets into it.

The fat man produced a box of toilet paper and threw it to the crowd, so that we could pitch it through the air in arcing parabolas, shedding twisted paper paths.  I caught one but I throw it too straight and it doesn’t unravel much.  I think this is because I never threw footballs.  The empty box that used to hold the toilet paper is also passed around the audience, apropos of nothing, until it hits a girl in the head and we drop it.  I am impressed that one forcefully thrown bog roll lands on the top of the giant truss that forms the top of the stage rig.  It’s a beautiful moment but I also reflect on the fact that all of the bathrooms will be out of toilet paper by the last show, and we could have used it.

The fat man announced that it was the last song.  I was caught admiring the tendrils of toilet paper everywhere and missed the moment when he laid the folded-up ladder on top of the crowd, climbed atop it, and made rowing motions until the people below began transporting him through the crowd.  I walked over to where it was happening and was amused by the sea of people taking photographs of the event.  We could probably make a 360 degree hologram of it at this point in composite.

It was amazing.

She Made Me Swayze

Posted Posted in comedy, los angeles, music
Photo from Spitfire Creative/Ashley Flowers

Sometimes, a friend asks you to dance a routine in tribute to Dirty Dancing and, to a greater extent, to her new haircut, so the lovely Sofiya Alexandra and I performed as part of Brock Wilbur and Rick Wood’s monthly at the Hyperion Lyric theatre, Tell and Show.

The next day, I was in the audience of So You Think You Can Dance, and the guest judge was Dirty Dancing choreographer Kenny Ortega, not ten feet from me.  The universe is trying to tell me something.