FRIDAY:
>>> I feel like I should tell you this, so it’s not weird or anything: I’m not here. As you read this, I am on a patch of grass somewhere in the city, flying a big gay kite in a fresh pair of Garanimals and listening to the Marine Girls on a big yellow Sony Sports Walkman, because I have finally died* and psychically transported myself to world where I am no longer shackled to some stupid website and, as much as I love you, you. It is fucking awesome here. Ooh, look! I just waved my hand and Weekend Picks magically wrote themselves!
>>> Now that I’m dead, I guess I should come clean: I secretly loved West Philly all along. I just came up with this whole “Philebrity hates West Philly” thing because Bart Blatstein was paying me to drive “buzz” towards Northern Liberties. And guess what? It worked! But like everything else I did when I was alive, it left me feeling kinda sad inside. I found it hard to relate to people after a while because I did the whole Philebrity character so well that people really started to believe that was me! Imagine if you were the guy who played that “Hey Vern” guy, but in real life, you loved classical music and English breakfast tea and when the cameras weren’t rolling, what you really wanted to do was just lie in a hammock on your rooftop garden and read the Bible as literature. I cannot stress this last bit enough: As literature. So accept my apologies, West Philly, and know that I am with you in spirit, on this gorgeous night, at this really sweet show at the Green Line Cafe. Brown Recluse Sings are the headliner, and they’re really great, but we also urge you to check out the two touring bands on the bill, Strand of Oaks and Literature. Every song on both of their MySpace pages is good, and that, like, never happens.
>>> Ask me what I’ll miss most about this Friday night, even though I am now a Golden Spirit (Junior Division) and suddenly, everything I do is awesome. Go ahead, ask me. I’ll miss the Blood Feathers at North Star Bar, watching the band and having a laugh with my lady friends and falling asleep at the end of the night with the spring breeze on my face. Birdie Busch and Gerhardt from Hi-Soft will open this show, and as I move through the walls like a funky ghost, it will occur to me that I should use my pull with God (totally misunderstood cat, BTW) to make sure the ‘Feathers become the most beloved American rock band since Creedence Clearwater Revival. It’s not like I have anything else to do all day.
>>> I also should have gotten to know Ape School better. I mean, check out how cool this track is:

Their record release party is at Johnny Brenda’s. Fun trivia: The Johnny Brenda’s in Heaven (or whatever it is you call this place) is exactly like the Johnny Brenda’s in Fishtown, except the tacos are still on the menu and they finally got rid of the pool table.
>>> Other stuff I would have probably told you about but probably wouldn’t have gone to because in life, I was a slave to habit: Anvil: The Story of Anvil at The Troc, starring the boyfriend guy from Big Love (that show is HUGE up here, everybody watches it); the first of two nights of the Disco Biscuits at Electric Factory (another confession: I always wanted to learn how to play with those devil stick things); and The Get Back, which is the soul party at The Bubble House.

SATURDAY:
>>> Other awesome things about living in The Dead Place, as I like to call it: Every day is basically like Saturday (Morrissey got it wrong by 24 hours, which we rib him for all the time, and oh shit, I guess I spilled the beans: Mozzer has been dead since 1998, the one that tours now is what we jokingly refer to as “Terminator Morrissey”). We get to drink Bloody Marys all afternoon and listen to pretty girl music, just like the 4AD Listening Party we set up at National Mechanics for the new Camera Obscura and St. Vincent albums. We never get too, too drunk — just very pleasantly buzzed — and when we leave the bar, we go home for a BBQ and listen to Willie Nelson until the sun goes down. It never does. Oh, also? Every damn day is Record Store Day, hoss.
>>> Also, our HBO is 48 hours ahead of yours, so we’ve seen the Grey Gardens adaptation and, no lie, even Kurt Cobain liked it. And his favorite show is The Deadliest Catch, so that’s really saying something.
>>> Clockcleaner? Also in The Dead Place. It’s awkward, but that Sharkey guy seems to be coming around since we put him in a room with Sigmund Freud twice a week. Sig said dude cries like you would not believe.
>>> But enough of my rambling about how awesome it is up here! You, you lucky living, have an utterly amazing Saturday in store: The weather is going to be amazing, and there’s all kinds of other stuff, like the Free Library Festival, the Fresh Melt Water BBQ/store opening, and even a big ol’ block party near 13th and Bainbridge. Go get ‘em, tiger!

SUNDAY:
>>> For most of my life, I always thought that Sundays in Philadelphia were exactly like what it would be like to be dead: Free-floating dread hanging heavy in the air, the obligations of past and future generations nagging for your attention, and whole stretches of time where nothing was on TV. Boy, was I wrong. So if you take away anything else from me, know this: That’s just you. And it doesn’t last forever, even if you do. So buck that trap and do something: Go to Dancing With The Philadelphia Stars and marvel at just how much like Lake Wobegon Philly really is; check out the Varsity Tryouts amateur stripper contest, judged by all Philly DJs this time around, and make it rain on a waitress who could really, really use the dough; or go to Musical Daggers at Skinner’s in Old City, awash in the comfort of old Echo & The Bunnymen records and the warm smiles of your knackered friends. As for me? Don’t be bummed. We’ll hang out again, I just know it. Maybe next Monday, even!

*Please note that Joey Sweeney is very much alive, and is using his fictional passing merely as a literary device to get him through another week of the insufferable task of writing Philebrity Weekend Picks, and he does not mean to cause alarm. He totally meant everything else in here, though. Except the part about being paid by Blatstein to malign West Philly. We pitched the idea, but could never agree on a budget.

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This entry was posted on Friday, April 17th, 2009 at 12:15 pm.