Here's to another goddamn new year: Five ways to celebrate the futility of new year's resolutions

The year 2010 is approaching, and that means it’s time to cobble together a last-minute list of new year’s resolutions that have zero chance of being fulfilled. So, what’s it going to be this time around? Exercise more? Drink less? Find a real job that pays a living wage? Wait—aren’t those the same resolutions you came up with last December? (Guess it didn't work out, eh?) Sure, you could keep stubbornly insisting that, by golly—with the right attitude and plenty of hard work—things are going to improve in the next calendar year. Or you could stop kidding yourself, and admit that you’re completely powerless to change the direction your crash course of a life has been driving in for the last few years. And what better way to celebrate your new understanding of the plight of the human condition than with a balls-out New Year’s Eve experience? (Who knows—maybe this will be the NYE that pushing all of your anti-social and self-destructive tendencies to the max will magically purge them from your system.) With that in mind, A.V. Club D.C. presents this list of local New Year's Eve events that will help you dig your own personal ditch a little deeper. It's not like you're ever going to actually pull yourself out of it, anyway.

New Year’s Resolution: Find that special someone and settle into a loving, monogamous relationship.
How to immediately break it: Take a complete stranger home with you for a night of casual sex.
Where to get it done: BrightestYoungThings’ 2010: A Space Fantasy at Capitol Skyline Hotel (10 I St. SW, 800-458-7500)
In the last year, the young, hip, and fabulous folks over at BrightestYoungThings have turned their arts-and-entertainment blog into a party-planning powerhouse. From the Inauguration 2009 Spectacular to the “Summer Camp” pool-party series to the recent Bentzen Ball comedy festival, BYT has built a reputation for knowing how to put together massive blowouts—and its NYE party should be no different. For $45, partygoers get an open bar all night featuring specialty cocktails and pre-selected call liquors. (The 18+ crowd and others who don’t plan on drinking can get in for $30.) Plus, there will be the usual assortment of DJs, games, and wacky costumes. But make no mistake: This party is about getting laid, and BYT isn't shy about it. The site has even arranged for reduced-rate hotel rooms—so, for $89, “you can just crash there at the end of the night and/or have a threesome with some skanks.”

New Year’s Resolution: Discover new music and expand your taste.
How to immediately break it: Stew in musical nostalgia with a night of accessible late-’90s alternative pop.
Where to get it done: Third Eye Blind at the Grand Hyatt Washington (1000 H St. NW, 202-582-1234)
Say what you will about Third Eye Blind’s nauseatingly overplayed 1997 hit “Semi-Charmed Life,” but you’d be hard-pressed to find a catchier ditty about drug addiction out there. And you have to admit, there’s a certain beauty in the idea of a few hundred stodgy, middle-aged government workers blissfully slurring their way through the lyrics of an ode to amphetamines—which is exactly what you can expect at the Grand Hyatt’s Downtown Countdown. Okay, so the irony isn’t quite worth the event’s laughably inflated $175 price tag. But the cost also covers a few hours of open bar, hors d’oeuvres, performances by three other bands, comedy showcases, karaoke and… ah, who the hell are we kidding? What a friggin' rip-off.

New Year’s Resolution: Add some spontaneity to your otherwise dull existence.
How to immediately break it: Celebrate New Year’s Eve the exact same way you did the last few years.
Where to get it done: Peaches O’Dell And Her Orchestra at The Black Cat (1811 14th St. NW, 202-667-4490)
When did your life settle into such a boring series of predictable routines? Hell, even that kid behind the register at Starbucks knows what you’re going to order before you get to the counter every morning. Well, when 2010 hits, the world had better be ready for the wild-and-crazy new you. (Who knows what you’ll do next—you might even order a caffè misto instead of your regular caffè Americano.) When it comes to the more immediate matter of figuring out your New Year's Eve plans, however, it’s probably best to play it safe. Peaches O’Dell And Her Orchestra have been performing classic dance hits from the ’20s through the ’50s at The Black Cat every New Year’s Eve since 1998 (back when it was half a block further down the street)—and you’ve enjoyed yourself there every time you've gone. For $25 you get a night’s worth of familiar faces, comfortable surroundings, and the same old champagne toasts to making changes in the upcoming year.

New Year’s Resolution: To curb unnecessary spending.
How to immediately break it: Throw away what's left of your savings at an overpriced, sure-to-be-lame New Year’s Eve blowout.
Where to get it done: Christ, where to start?
There are few things that the D.C. club scene does truly well, but cashing in on the lack of imagination of its patrons has always been one of them. For New Year’s Eve, the racket is pretty simple: pack a huge venue with glitzy decorations built around a subtle theme, book a local band that can pull off recognizable covers of both Lady Gaga and Styx, stock a makeshift bar with middle-shelf liquor, and charge a small fortune. It’s the same formula for any of the indistinguishable, ludicrously expensive hotel and club “parties” offered up this year: Big Night D.C.’s New Years Eve Extravaganza at the Gaylord National Resort Hotel (201 Waterfront St. National Harbor, MD, 301-965-2000; $129.99-$189.99), the James Bond-themed License To Thrill Thunderball at the Washington Plaza Hotel (10 Thomas Circle NW, $119-$159), or the Vegas-themed New Year's at The Park At Fourteenth (920 14th St. NW, 202-737-7275; $100-$200), to name a few. After all, who needs recessionary discretion when you have “creative black tie optional”—whatever that means.

New Year’s Resolution: To get out of the house more often
How to immediately break it: Stay in, stock up on cheap champagne, and invite over a few friends
Where to get it done: The peace and comfort of your home
Perhaps there’s more wisdom than tragedy in the New Year’s Eve scene described in The Dismemberment Plan’s “The Ice Of Boston”—a disgruntled loner in his apartment, buck naked, dousing himself with bubbly, drunkenly screaming “Here’s to another goddamn new year” to the crowd below. (Add a few companions and it sounds like a decent way to ring in 2010, no?) Let’s face it: most public New Year’s parties are kitschy, overcrowded, and—in the end—underwhelming. So, screw it. Is there really anything you hope to get out of the night that can’t be accomplished with a group of close friends, a case of Andre, and an iPod playlist?

http://www.avclub.com/dc/articles/heres-to-another-goddamn-new-year-five-ways-to-cel,36214

A.V. Club D.C.’s top 10 local albums of the '00s

The ’00s were an interesting decade for music in Washington D.C. In the previous 10 years, the local music scene—led by Dischord Records—had gained national recognition for producing some of the country’s most distinguished post-punk and post-hardcore bands. (Local musicians would often joke about how people in other cities regularly noted that every band from the District had “the D.C. sound”—characterized by angular, discordant guitars and sing-shout vocals.) D.C.’s music scene came into the ’00s with a strong early push, which included releases by bands such as Fugazi, Faraquet, Black Eyes, and Lungfish. However, by the time the decade was halfway done, every major Dischord band had either broken up or gone on indefinite hiatus—at which point, the obvious question became, “Who will pick up the torch?” In the wake of Dischord, which has been relatively inactive the past few years, the D.C. scene has seen the rise of a bevy of indie-pop, folk, and country acts like Le Loup, Deleted Scenes, Vandaveer, Casper Bangs, and Jukebox The Ghost. But how do D.C.’s fresher faces stack up against those of earlier this decade? The A.V. Club D.C. takes a look at the best local records of the ’00s.

1. Fugazi, The Argument
Dischord Records (2001)
By the turn of the century, Ian MacKaye and his bandmates were already widely considered the forefathers of the Washington, D.C., post-punk movement. Having nothing left to prove, Fugazi noticeably shifted gears with The Argument, deviating a bit from the gritty, relentless noise-rock that defined the band's sound in previous decades, and adapting an uncharacteristically melodic, expressive, and—dare we even say it—poppy aesthetic. But that’s not to say that The Argument lacks teeth—“Full Disclosure,” “Epic Problem,” and “Ex-Spectator” flash shades of classic Fugazi, swirling intricate and unpredictable rhythms around the conflicting vocal stylings of MacKaye and guitarist-vocialist Guy Picciotto. (The lyrics, of course, are still topped with hefty socio-political overtones.) Peppered between such tracks are more contemplative pieces like “Life And Limb,” “Strangelight,” and the album’s title track, proving that Fugazi can emit just as much intensity with a whisper and a melody as a scream and a scorching riff. The result is far and away Fugazi’s most accessible album (for better or worse)—and, to date, the last release from D.C.’s most beloved musical icons.

2. Black Eyes: Cough
Dischord Records (2004)
Black Eyes’ 2003 self-titled debut for Dischord Records was loaded with throbbing jams that incited dancing and singalongs from audiences during the band’s frenetic live performances. But the quintet’s 2004 follow-up, Cough, was the record that the band had been born to write. As if lashing out against the dance-punk label critics had tagged it with, Black Eyes responded with a saxophone-saturated, free-jazz-influenced sophomore effort that found the band at its most unapologetically abrasive. Sure, if you really wanted to, you could probably dance to tracks such as “False Positive,” “Fathers And Daughters,” and “Spring Into Winter” (well, parts of them, at least), but Black Eyes were going to make you work for it. To embrace inaccessibility intentionally is a bold move for any band—particularly one coming off glowing reviews for its debut. Few bands have the balls to try it, and even fewer have the creative chops to pull it off, as Black Eyes managed to do with Cough. It’s undeniably the more challenging record to listen to and enjoy—but, for those up to the task, the rewards are greater than the instant returns found in the band’s first album.

3. The Dismemberment Plan, Change
DeSoto Records (2001)
In the band’s early recordings—most notably its 1999 breakthrough, Emergency & I—The Dismemberment Plan embraced (and later embodied) D.C.’s late-'90s post-punk scene, blasting out spastic, funk-laced rock with a backhanded forget-the-world twang. But one thing has always set D-Plan apart from its contemporaries: Travis Morrison. Few, if any, post-punk frontmen have ever had a way with words quite like Morrison, penning lyrics that cut to the core of human experience in an insightful, witty tone. With the release of Change, which would be the band’s last studio recording, Morrison’s emotional songwriting and octave-expanding vocals take the spotlight, scaling down the previous album’s loud, complex arrangements. From the opening riffs of “Sentimental Man,” Change swells into a cathartic study in heartbreaks and existential funks, accompanied by just enough jagged hooks and tempo changes to remind you that this is, in fact, a Dismemberment Plan album. Though tracks such as “Following Through” and “Come Home” teeter on the verge of overly sentimental emo-pop, killers like “Time Bomb” and “Secret Curse” remind us that D-Plan wasn’t always so sensitive.

4. Q And Not U, No Kill No Beep Beep
Dischord Records (2000)
It would be nearly impossible for a band like Q And Not U to come from any city other than Washington, D.C. The band’s debut LP, No Kill No Beep Beep, channels the generation of D.C. bands that preceded it—from hardcore to go-go—but most notably the dissonant vocal and guitar patterns and capricious time changes of Fugazi. But No Kill goes beyond mere post-punk pastiche. In fact, Q And Not U seems to toy with the concept of “post-punk” throughout the album, at times tapping into the disaffecting anger of urban youth, at others dabbling in pure lighthearted silliness. The album’s first few tracks, namely “Fever Sleeves,” “Hooray For Humans,” and the catchy fan-favorite “A Line In The Sand” are masterfully arranged—often frenzied and chaotic, yet strangely danceable. Although the second half of the record doesn't keep up with the density and intensity of these opening tracks, No Kill charges relentlessly to the end, forging a sound that’s quintessentially D.C. (Full disclosure: A.V. Club D.C. City Editor Matthew Borlik played bass on this album. Freelancer John Griffith suggested and wrote this portion of the article.)

5. Wale, The Mixtape About Nothing
Self-released (2008)
From the record cover, track titles, familiar opening bass line, and initial observational quips of The Mixtape About Nothing, it’s tempting to think that Wale’s love for Seinfeld is merely superficial. But as the record progresses, Wale demonstrates both a remarkably sharp wit and thorough understanding of the show’s more subtle themes. In an effort to link the show’s appeal to black life, Wale weaves direct clips from Seinfeld through the record—George’s rant about artistic integrity, Kramer’s critique of the manipulative tendencies of women, Jerry’s description of the “perfect plan.” In “The Opening Title Sequence,” Wale rails on the commodification of rap music with a series of Seinfeld-esque “What’s the deal with…” observations. “The Grown Up” questions the role of love and commitment in manhood, with the help of Jerry and George’s memorable “We are not men” dialogue. In "The Kramer," the darkest moments of Michael Richards’ infamous racist rant fades into one of the more intriguing examinations of the “n-word” in recent pop culture memory. Musically, Wale lands somewhere between Lupe Fiasco and The Roots. The result is an ambitious, enthralling album on which the D.C hip-hop underground can proudly hang its hat.

6. Faraquet: The View From This Tower
Dischord Records (2000)
To be fair, many felt that Faraquet’s first—and only—proper full-length was somewhat of a letdown. Although the opening track, “Cut Self Not,” ranks among Faraquet’s best songs, the rest of the album struggles to maintain the level of consistency found in the band’s previous work. (Had we included reissues on this list, we would have definitely gone with Anthology 1997-98, which was released by Dischord in 2008 and includes the band’s first two 7-inches as well as Faraquet’s four songs from the split with Akarso.) However, This Tower still has its share of strong entries—particularly “The Fourth Introduction,” “Study In Complacency,” and the title track (which features drummer Chad Molter on piccolo bass and vocals). After initially breaking up in 2001, Faraquet reunited in 2008 for a Brazilian tour and one-off performance in D.C., which proved the best tracks off This Tower haven’t lost any of their luster with age, nor any of their energy in a live setting.

7. Le Loup, Family
Hardly Art (2009)
In the second half of the decade, the D.C. rock scene underwent a drastic shift away from the angsty, politically charged post-punk with which the city had become synonymous, toward more accessible, folky art-pop. Perhaps there’s no better band to represent this paradigm shift than Le Loup. With the 2009 release of Family, the band’s second full-length and first written and recorded as a cohesive unit (their debut was mostly the experimental recordings of frontman Sam Simkoff), Le Loup crafted an intoxicatingly warm and complex album. Although a far cry from the D.C. bands of yore, Family taps into everything from banjo-sprinkled country (“Go East”), to harmony-driven pop (“A Celebration”), to tweaked-out doo-wop (“Grow”), capturing a sound that’s simultaneously familiar and experimental, accessible and esoteric.

8. Lungfish: Love Is Love
Dischord Records (2003)
Assembling a good Lungfish track doesn't take much: Find one solid guitar riff, slap some backing bass and drums to it, and play it on repeat for three minutes while heavily bearded singer Daniel Higgs spouts off lyrics rife with nature imagery. So, if almost every song—and, by extension, album—follows the exact same formula, how does one distinguish a good Lungfish record from a great one? As a general rule of thumb, you can figure out how much you’ll like any one of Lungfish’s albums by listening to the first 10 or 15 seconds of each song. Love Is Love’s opening title track—easily one of the best songs in the currently inactive band’s lengthy catalog—gets the album off to a great start, and others such as “Nation Saving Song” and “No False Suns” sustain the pace until the album’s closer, “Child Of Chaos.” (Sure, technically speaking, Lungfish is from Baltimore—but when Dischord releases all 11 of your albums, you count as a D.C. band.)

9. Thievery Corporation, The Mirror Conspiracy
Eighteenth Street Lounge Music (2000)
There’s something to be said about a band that can achieve widespread recognition by merging genres that, on their own, aren’t largely popular. Sure, The Mirror Conspiracy is a lounge album, which means it’s almost by definition inoffensive and atmospheric. But in terms of its genre, the record is an absolute watershed, with compelling whiffs of samba, dub, reggae, Indian, bossa nova, and jazz. But the album’s true magic is in its adaptability to the iPod culture—tracks such as “Lebanese Blonde” and “Samba Tranquille” provide a soothing and uplifting soundtrack to any of life’s mundane chores. Before you bash Thievery Corporation for their repetitive rhythms, douchey club-rat following, and irrevocable ties to Zach Braff’s Garden State, just try to put the album through your earbuds without adding a swagger to your step.

10. El Guapo: Fake French
Dischord Records (2002)
When it comes to local bands that never received their proper due, El Guapo has to be at the top of the list. After forming in 1996, the avant-garde outfit—anchored by Rafael Cohen and Justin Moyer—went through various lineup changes, made several dramatic shifts in sound, and released a pair of albums before joining the Dischord Records roster for 2001’s Super/System. Fake French, released a year later, largely ditched Super/System’s accordion- and oboe-heavy approach to refine El Guapo's minimalist approach to electronic art-punk. Standout tracks such as “Glass House,” “Justin Destroyer” and “Pick It Up” captured the band in all of its giddy, glitchy glory. However, like El Guapo’s earlier releases, the band’s two underappreciated Dischord albums mainly fell on deaf ears—and those that did listen to it didn’t like what they heard very much. El Guapo would later change its name to Supersystem and release a pair of more dance-centric albums on Touch And Go Records, but Fake French is El Guapo at its artistic peak—albeit, a peak that most critics didn’t understand.

http://www.avclub.com/dc/articles/av-club-dcs-top-10-local-albums-of-the-00s,36252/

Recap: Pixies at DAR Costitution Hall

In the 20 years since Pixies released Doolittle, frontman Black Francis has added a couple of inches to the ol’ waistline, drummer David Lovering has lost a few hairs, and, according to a recent interview with NPR, bassist Kim Deal has moved back in with her parents in Dayton, OH. But during the quartet’s Monday night show at DAR Constitution Hall—the first of two marking the last stop on the 2009 Doolittle Tour—such superficial changes only reinforced the band's more enduring qualities. Francis’ vocals are as gritty and engaging as ever, Deal’s rolling basslines and minimalist vocal accents still fail to miss a beat, and the band as a whole is as tight and powerful as it was two decades ago.

After a 15-minute screening of Un Chien Andalou—Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali’s 1929 classic surrealist film, and the inspiration for Doolittle’s opener, “Debaser”—the band warmed up with a string of self-described “obscure” B-Sides (“Dancing The Manta Ray,” “Weird At My School,” “Bailey’s Walk,” and “Manta Ray”). But the performance really began the moment Deal started the familiar bassline for “Debaser,” prompting a deafening uproar from the noticeably older crowd. As advertised, the Pixies proceeded to blaze through every track on Doolittle in order, from before-their-time hits like “Monkey Gone To Heaven” and “Here Comes Your Man” to the lesser-known fillers like “No. 13 Baby” and “Silver.”

Always a frontman of few words, Francis left most of the between-song banter to Deal, who barely let a glowing smile leave her face for the entire set. As if to backhandedly apologize for the record’s less captivating live tracks (say, “Silver”), Deal prefaced a handful of the songs with disclaimers like “We’re going to play all of them,” and “Now we’re getting into the deeper cuts.” But that’s not to say the set lacked stimulation—far from it. The inspired karaoke-esque rendition of “Hey,” for instance, sparked a full-blown sing-along. (You really don’t see phrases like “WHORES IN MY BED” streaming across the backdrop of a rock show enough these days.)

Following a three-minute curtain call, the band returned to the stage for a brief two-song encore, featuring the somewhat lethargic UK Surf version of “Wave Of Mutilation” and “Into The White,” arguably the band’s most underappreciated recording. In the end, the crowd refused to go home quietly without its requisite dose of early hits—all of which were unveiled in the second encore. Francis awkwardly scatted through an improvised version of “Where Is My Mind?” followed by “Gigantic” and “Caribou.” In the evening’s first truly unexpected maneuver, the four members returned to their instruments after a sequence of bows for a balls-to-the-wall take on the scream-laden “Nimrod’s Son,” a common favorite among longtime Pixiphiles and easily the night’s most impressive performance.

A young Mick Jagger once famously said that he would rather be dead than singing "Satisfaction" when he was 45. It’s a hidden curse of superstardom: Even one’s most brilliant creation is doomed to grow stale eventually, if only to its creator. In that respect, perhaps the Pixies should be grateful for Doolittle’s lack of immediate commercial success—or else they probably wouldn’t still have so much fun performing it, a vibe that the band emanated throughout the show. For that reason, The A.V. Club would like to thank the record-buying public of the late '80s and early '90s on behalf of all those in attendance last night. We owe you one.

http://app.avclub.com/dc/articles/pixies-at-dar-costitution-hall,35877