« Smoke Break | Main | The heatz is on. »

February 24, 2009

Trapped in a basement.

I don't really know anyone who puts on music with sex regularly. Well, maybe I do. But you know what I mean. Because of this, when music with sex is mentioned or imagined, I see it as a genre-based affair. The girl from college with the Alternative Nation T-shirt and a Garbage fetish. That kind of thing. The question is, how does Jennifer Aniston see it? Because that girl's hooking up with John Mayer, and all he does is croon shitty Robert Cray covers. What if Jen's always been down with 14 other pieces of flair during the dirty deed? Like Kool & the Gang? Mayer, for his part, probably uses the "I'll never hit your head without my hand behind it" bit way too much.

Here are a few links. I have a lot of spare time these days, being underemployed like at least 10 of my close friends as well as hundreds of thousands of others. Thanks economy! Jerks. But it hasn't been a total loss: I've become a regular contributor to the Village Voice, namely blurb action in the calendar section. You got that straight, jack, I'm taking over the New York City media market 90 words at a time. Slipknot, Matthew Dear and Derek Plaslaiko, Dan Auerbach, Black Names and Hollerado, and The Hard Lessons can vouch. Natch.

I've also been writing for Metromix Chicago. In case you missed it or are thirsty, here are my reviews of dive bars in the Loop and Bucktown. And of course, if you ever have a C-note to spend on a drinking adventure, I'll help you spend it.


Posted by Johnny Loftus at February 24, 2009 2:47 PM

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry: