Kelly's Krush Korner - Jemina Pearl

One of the first links that comes up when you Google Jemina Pearl’s name is a Pitchfork article with the title “Jemina Pearl Makes a Guy Bleed.” I know that being a nut and inflicting physical violence on people isn’t supposed to be cool or whatever, but some throbbing, black little ember in my heart wants very badly to have that headline tattooed on my body somewhere, or at least screen printed onto a t-shirt.

Jemina Pearl is like a hot and loud unicorn that trampled down from the stars to sing in Be Your Own Pet, and then release one solo album that was so good I literally carried it around in my bag for months, not for “maybe I’ll play this where I’m going” reasons, but just to have it close to me at all times. I kind of thought about duct taping it to my stomach once, just to feel the weight of it there, but I didn’t have any tape and was too lazy to go buy some.

My favorite thing about being a very fancy journalist is that I can sit and think up everyone I have a crush on, and then just set up interviews with them so that they basically HAVE to talk to me for however long I’m sitting across from them asking questions. I once sat eyeball to eyeball with Zooey Deschanel in the lobby of the Bowery Hotel for two hours and I had ZERO idea as to what I was saying, and also accidentally looked at her boobs like five times, but it was all legit and professional because I was holding a tape recorder. Last year I did a video interview with Jemina Pearl at Union Pool and although I can barely stand to watch the video on account of only being able to focus on my randomly bulging neck veins (I was so nervous that I kind of went blind at one point), two amazing things occurred during this interview. The first was that I gave her a pin depicting the likeness of a Full House era Mary-Kate Olsen, which she immediately put on her jean jacket, and the second was that I suggested we arm wrestle.

Moving from our sitting location to a different arm wrestling layout required a whole new lighting setup, but I couldn’t be bothered with worrying about the delay because arm wrestling meant that I got to grab on to her hand for anywhere between 30 seconds and five minutes. The stakes of the arm wrestling match were that if she won she’d get some booze, and if she lost she’d have the shittiest show ever. Well I must have accidentally wriggled my nose (Bewitched reference in case you embryos didn’t pick that up) at the moment “worst show ever” was said out loud because I beat her three times with barely any exertion, and she ended up storming off the stage during the middle of her show that night and smashing a beer bottle over the head of one of her band mates. I also think, now that I’m going over it all in my head, that she smacked herself in the face a few times. I personally thought it was all awesome, but she kind of stopped playing shows after that night (that I know of) and moved back to Nashville, or wherever it is in the southern regions of heaven that she comes from. I sent her a message once apologizing for basically putting a screeching halt to her musical career with only the power of my right bicep, but she didn’t write me back.

If Jemina Pearl ever wants to record another album, and needs a publicist, she should get in touch. I think there’s comfort in an artist knowing that their publicist could kick their ass if they needed to. That’s sexy, right? Ewwww. I gross myself out. But seriously, I look great in a blazer.

@WolfieVibes

Previously – Piper Perabo