They like it when you lose control.

Hmm.. What to say about Yeasayer? 

Unfortunately, a lack of computer access has forced you to wait almost an entire week since the show for a recap. Needless to say, things have happened in the past week and my short-term memory has grown foggy. But fortunately, the coveted Macbook is now mine, so these long lapses between posts shall occur no more.

Anyway, back to the show- or rather, what I can remember of it. Flustered, we ran in the door, first to the bathroom, then to the bar, then to the theatre and arrived during the performance of their first song. It was something good, I swear, but as aforementioned, it's hard to remember what it was, exactly. Also, I have a big problem watching a show and knowing the name of each song in the heat of the moment. To be honest I don't even bother trying to remember, 'tis better just to enjoy the magical sounds penetrating your eardrums and swaying your hips, no? Something told me they wouldn't play each track as they do on the album, and I was right. For a majority of the songs, they snuck in long and dreamy musical breaks that really made you feel like you were getting your money's worth. My friends and I had looked forward to this show since back in the days of my boot and the Passion Pit show, who also performed at The Fillmore, so it was a surprise upon entering to find that the place was fairly empty. Not that I mind of course, cooler air and more space to play is all this translated to for me. In the end, Yeasayer chucked us out, a troupe of happy campers.

Granted, this is a very edited down compilation of pictures from the night- there were about 250 from the show and after-party, it would probably be a bit excessive to post them all. After the most enjoyable of nights, I tend to either wake up to almost no pictures, or what seems like a minute-by-minute photo documentary. This night fell into the latter category. 

After the show, we made our way over to a pretty rad little bar called Kill Your Idol, laden with shark heads eating dolls, arcade games, moon men hanging from the ceiling, and about a million other unexpected oddities I probably didn't even notice. 

Never fear a beautiful thing.

Time for another fantastic-amazing-show-recap-photo-post. After a disappointing night out Saturday, I was itching for some sweet tunes by Miami Horror come Wednesday night. The news that the Australian band would be making their way to our shores reached my ears a little over a month ago, and from that moment I was determined to make it to the show. So, with total disregard for the fact mi amiga had class at nine a.m. and I a job interview at noon; we made our way out to catch the stellar performance, sometime after midnight.

 

 

 

Now, since you asked; yes, partying with a band from Australia, named Miami Horror, in the heart of Miami- is slightly ironic. Needless to say, I was inclined to ask keyboardist Benjamin Plant what inspired the rather dope (me, biased? nooo) name. To paraphrase: after considering the bright, iconic imagery that comes to mind when one thinks of Miami, he began throwing it together with a variety of words. Eventually, "horror" occurred to him (probably after a considerable amount of time spent scanning the dictionary... kidding). Anyway, we all know what imagery comes to mind when one hears the word horror: goblins, ghouls and ghosts, oh my! Mr. Plant particularly liked the contrast of the two words in conjunction with one another, and so the name Miami Horror was born. Alas, now they were here and living it. 

 

Head over to the amazing woman above's blog the nomadic files and you might find some more photos from this same evening. Either way, there are lots of other pretty things for you to enjoy, so do yourself a favor and check it out. 

 

 

Street art and snow cones on a hot summer day.

In case you were looking for a nice, sweaty alternative to spending a relaxing day at the museum (you know, in the nice, cool air conditioning), I suggest you spend the day walking around the Design District and Wynwood. It is most definitely worth the heat induced delirium to check out the incredible art that (to my pleasure) happens to be painted on buildings' walls for several city blocks. (Not to mention that fact you will probably lose a few pounds with all that walking around in 95 degree weather.) Or, better yet, you could do the smart thing and wait until the winter. Oh well, next time.
So on to our travels. We began in the Design District (around 32nd? street) with a cold beer to prepare ourselves for a scorching afternoon in the sun (for the sake of art). We took off on foot, west to Miami Avenue, at the suggestion of the bartender. To our delight, the first stop on our unguided-street-art-tour proved most unexpected. Two giant walls set on a street corner facing an intersection, formed the corner of a living room. This giant section of a room came equipped with colossal lamps and couch, and pink and white baroque wallpaper to boot. Random and odd but interesting and a good start, nonetheless.
From there we traveled south. At one point about halfway through our journey, a man noticed us (and my finger on the trigger of my camera), and suggested we trudge all the way down to 24th street for what he considered "the best stuff." So off we went in search of more art (we want more art!). Indeed, I thought I might pass out from heat exhaustion. Snow cone truck mirages began to appear. No, real snow cone trucks appeared! Hallelujah! Thank you kind sir for your thoughtful suggestion, you were right. Some of the most talented artists around had had their say on that block. And that snow cone was like a; well, it was like a red cherry snow cone on a hot summer day.


Disclaimer: These photos are not posted in the order of our discovery. You must find them and everything I didn't include here, yourselves. 

Living room street corner

This is not a recipe.

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you, without a dope beat to step to. 
Okay, that's not my line but it sure seemed appropriate (thanks, Timbaland). Let me begin by saying: just because you have been without knowledge of Hood Rat activities for almost a month, does not mean they are not happening. So let me assure you, my absence is not without good reason. 
In the past month; I have uprooted my (half-broken) feet from a sleepy little place no one over the age of 12 or under the age of 60 should spend too much time, picked up my notebook and No. 2 pencils, and relocated to a slightly larger town you may be familiar with. Maybe you know it from a Will Smith song, or a television show from the '80s. Miami Vice, ring a bell?


Oh yes, Miami! 

The infamous city filled with half-naked tourists, palm trees, fake tits, Spanish accents, art deco everything, and cuban food on every corner; is officially mi nueva ciudad. 

Now, other than catching a Golden Filter show a couple of weeks ago (photos above), I haven't truly sunk my teeth into this city, yet. So, abandoned by my favorite lady (insert sad face) for the week, my own personal super-man came over and cooked up some delicious kind of meal (for us to sink our teeth into). What it was I have no idea, or rather, no desire to put a name on it. A concoction involving tomatoes, mozzarella, garlic, red potatoes, rosemary, lemon and chicken. I do believe that is all the necessary information. We also ate it on the floor. Why not? Like I said, this is not a recipe.

This scattered entry is just to inform you of one thing. Hood Rat Stuff is back in business. New and Improved. Hood Rat Stuff 2.0. The Miami Edition. More Hood than ever before. 

Catch my drift? 
In keeping with the theme of themelessness, ponder this: What do Henry VIII,  styrofoam beer coolers, and the Miami skyline all have in common? 

Not much, except they all like to party. Get ready, Miami.