K, guess I’ll do a Top 5 list of what I’ve been abusing on repeat as of late. Just FYI or let’s get real, FMI (for my information). If you turn the radio off (aka Rihanna and Taylor Swift) and look for actual music so many magical things happen. Oops I work for a radio station. Don’t fire me. But anyway, do yourself a favor and listen to these tracks…
MS MR – BTSK
Haim – Don’t Save Me
Foxes – Beauty Queen
Tove Lo – Habits
Charli XCX - Grins
Bonus: Burns – Lies
*Disclaimer: If you hate all of this it’s not my fault. It’s yours. And in my biased opinion you have bad taste.
Whupps, this blog is sort of late (no shock there). I can barely remember what happened this past year which is probably for the best and probably the reason for said blogging tardiness. I’ll spare you the forced wit and just start.
Honorable Mention: This pixelated junky Instagrammed iPhone photo of Lana Del Rey purely because I wish to be permanently bathed in the lights in the top part of this photo. Also because this was one of the single most hysterical concert-going experiences of my life and I don’t think enough people know about it. I’m not actually going to tell the story now so sorry for mentioning it. How annoying is it when people do that?
#5. One Direction (mostly): Okay, this isn’t a great photo so much as it was a borderline life-altering event hence it’s number five position. I don’t actually care that I’m about 50 years older than the oldest member of this band (ILY Harry) they are seriously so precious. Say what you will but if you don’t know all the words to That’s What Makes You Beautiful you’re lying about it. I hate that Zayn is missing from this but whatever, I guess even pop stars have to go to funerals. Full set →
Looking back, I actually had no idea that this photo was from 2012 which just goes to show how the year dragged on and on and on and on. Similar to how this post likely will so bow out now if you so choose.
#4. Karmin: I tried (no I didn’t) but I couldn’t make this entry without including these two babies. At this point I basically have a photographic catalog of their entire career which I told Amy – she wants to make a scrap book. I’m not into that. Pinking shears are an absolute abomination. Anyways, Karmin were particularly on point at Jingle Ball this year I must say. By on point I mean Amy is still incredible and Nick has a new buff (albeit pale) physique. Ooh-la-la. Full set →
#3. Nicki Minaj: I’ve completely blocked Summer Jam 2012 out of my mind after being man handled and scared to actual death by Ms. Minaj’s posse of sweatsuit-wearing giants. But these photos came out pretty decent so I’ll squeeze them into this lackluster countdown. Also, this was my first tango with my (not-so) new (anymore) camera so it’s somewhat of a milestone, I guess. Full set →
#2. Marina and the Diamonds: I bet you all thought this would be number 1, didn’t you? Let me rephrase, I bet you all thought this would be numbers 1-5, didn’t you? Curve ball. I can’t say exactly why this is my favorite of the six trillion photos of this poor girl I’ve taken this year (see here) but I always tell people it is and I can’t go back now. Maybe it’s because this was the first time I had witnessed her single-handedly take down the entire pop game in the flesh. Too much? Full set →
#1. Coldplay: I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m basically betraying everything I believe in by making this photo number one. To be perfectly clear, this doesn’t mean I find the band any less suicide-inducing it just means this really is my favorite photo from the year. Nothing more, nothing less. Full set →
And that’s all she wrote. Here’s to 2013, a year when Britney Spears has promised to release a new album and I hereby resolve to die of joy upon its release (unless will.i.am has anything to do with it – then I just resolve to die). Hilarious, you thought I’d go this entire blog without mentioning Queen B.
I was going to make a post for my newest set of photos of Marina and the Diamonds but I figured I’d simultaneously take the time to reflect back on how this year saw my progression from casual fan to person with actual mental problems. Seal the door on my padded cell and tighten the buckles on my straight jacket. Let’s journey back…
July 30: Marina opened for Coldplay. I shot the show one night and “took my friend to see Coldplay” on the second night. Whoever thought I was there to be depressed to death by Coldplay was sadly (pun intended) mistaken. I’m sure at least the precious gay boy seated behind me (with his mom) sporting a Marina and the Diamonds t-shirt was on the same level as me.
July 31: That’s right. Back to back encounters. My former place of employment hosts Marina for a lovely in-studio performance. I, hearing of this, bless myself with the sign of the cross as I can’t believe it is anything short of a God-given miracle. This day would go on to include Ms. Diamandis breaking into an a cappella version of 2 Become 1 exclusively for me and “Queen Spice.” Sorry, inside joke with M. Note: I’m aware that this photo is disgusting and I realize now that the shirt I’m wearing in it also is and have not worn it since.
August 17: This is where things go real downhill for me, you know, sanity wise as I hopped in my brand new car and drove to effing Philly for the Lonely Hearts Club Tour. I won’t say much more because that should be proof enough that I have issues and to be quite honest, if you’re still reading this you obviously do too.
August 19: I’ll start by clarifying that VERY few things will bring me to an amusement park. Oh god, the sheer amount of filth. This trip to Six Flags was a compromise that just so happened to work out in my favor. My friends would wait in line for 100 hours sweating like slobs and I’d be backstage at some radio show that “just so happened” to be going on that day. “Weren’t you just in Philly?” Yes, can we not talk about it? God.
December 8: As you’re thinking “how long could this freak possibly go on for?!” – fear not, here’s where my journey on the crazy train comes to a screeching hault. Marina announces a Boston Lonely Hearts Club show (thanks, I didn’t just drive to Philly or anything). I gather up the friends I’ve managed to force my obsession (subtle TFJ reference) upon and head out for a night of binge drinking and fan-girling. Part 1 of that went so well that I don’t actually recall part 2. Had I known I was headed backstage post-show (humble brag) I probably would’ve stepped away from the vodka. JKLOLZ. Regarding this encounter with M, I will say the following: being on vocal rest makes people super funny and thus the people around them resort to whistling. Who let me take it there?! Shiniest pajamas ever, tho…
What else is there to say really besides to remind myself that I am no longer 16 years old and this sort of behavior is unacceptable in every single way. Let this blog post serve as a formal open apology to all of my friends for my digression into youth over the past few months.
Jingle Ball 2012 also happened. But most importantly this was the night I saw Lindsay Lohan in the flesh — EXHIBIT A. That’s right, Cady Heron. Imagine the type of restraint it took for someone like me not to absolutely bombard this ticking time bomb with such questions as, “On Wednesdays, do you wear pink?” or “When you’re feeling down, do you secretly snack on kalteen bars?” It. Took. Everything. In. Me.
I digress… (not really since I only ever wanted to talk about LL in the first place). To sum up: The Wanted were not sober (again). Justin Bieber didn’t sing (but choked me with his overbearing fog machine). And I got to go thru Rajon Rondo‘s locker room cubby.
Deep breath while I mindlessly backdate like 3-5 entries just to get to the one I really want to make.
Monster Jam happened again this year and had I know it’d be the last time I’d spend it with some of my favorites I probably would’ve done a better job of capturing hysterical backstage moments. Le sigh, I did not. Live and learn or something meaningful and deep like that.
I can never think of anything witty to say in this hip-hop-esque entries. Probably because I’m blasting Spice World so loud I fear my record player my implode. The power of Spice (amen). Here are some photos of Rita Ora and Trey Songz being nothing short of perfection…