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NEW YORK - LOVE IS LIKE A BLOB!

Friday night

Quintron and Miss Pussycat

played at that warehouse shanty Market Hotel. Unlike a lot of shows at that place it wasn't a completely horrific experience that made me behave like the reason those MEAN PEOPLE SUCK stickers were invented. But that is because every single Quintron and Miss Pussycat show is more fun than whatever you were doing that night unless you were there…

Here is a tip: It is OK to show up on time for the first band. In this case it was

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Wizzard Sleeve

. They're for-really from Alabama and they don't talk much, two exotic and desirable traits. Apparently the guy on drums is the Weasel Walter of the South: a trained but uncaged beast of a drummer. I don't think this band was the best showcase of those skills but that is not an insult. Sometimes it's unnecessary/inappropriate to go all the way.

This girl had the best hair of the night. She also was the best-dressed from the ankle down, in really busted open-toed mules and a shitty ankle bracelet. She was like a timid gazelle--I knew if I took a photo it'd scare her off, so I had to just watch her from a distance/behind her back.

I'm on the fence about this sitting down like lazy bored people at a show thing. On one hand, I completely understand--if I wanted to stand on my feet all night and have meaningless conversation I'd go work the drive-thru in a suburban Taco Bell. On the other, sitting down like this is so lame there's no clever metaphor to describe it.

Psychedelic Horseshit

took forever to set up, and right before they started the lead guy was like, "I'm just gonna grab a beer and tune my guitar a little and then I'll be ready to go." I wanted to scream. And then he tripped over a wire and sent a sound box of some sort flying, AAs crashing to the floor. There was a mad heroic scramble to make it all right again, but all I could think was, "Dude, that's why once you're onstage, you stay there."

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They introduced themselves as Better Than Ezra from Columbia, Missouri. My tough love was completely unnecessary--clearly they were brilliant and the setup was part of the show, which meant they'd already been performing for 20 minutes before they ever played. Bravo, crazy fucks. They played shitty pop-punk "licks" that time forgot, unplugging and replugging in instruments that did not sound good (including a walkman that existed just to play a cassette of what sounded like seagull squalls), and would suddenly all stop and menacingly stare at the audience, just like they're doing here. I love them.

This is the hot sound lady. I almost wanted to punch this one guy for pushing her aside to commandeer the board, turning a knob to the left and reducing the amount of annoying Psychedelic Horseshit was spewing. Hello, they were supposed to sound like that. They weren't supposed to be "good" and have their levels correct. Fucking asshole. But then she flipped the fuck out on me for setting down my drink on a table two feet away from a Discman, exclaiming that it was "really important equipment," and I was glad I didn't stand up for her. And then I was like, "But wait, she is wearing a Trader Joe's Crew Member work shirt cinched at the waist with a ragged piece of fishing rope. She is amazing." And I calmed down.

It is a given that

Miss Pussycat's puppet shows

are inexplicably beautiful and weird, and elaborating on her narratives kind of demeans the whole thing. For instance, if I told you this one (which is a new one) involved wolf aliens with clammy, wiggly human flesh-like hands conducting a seance for kidnapped raindrops, conjuring clouds, and an evil snake that danced to "Let it Whip"…well, you'd probably think it sounded like it sucked. But the truth is, there is nothing on the planet more disturbingly joyful and bizarre than a Miss Pussycat puppet show. The good guy always wins in the end. All I can think the whole time I'm watching is: What would my life be like if my mind worked like hers?

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If my mind worked like Miss Pussycat's I would be using dry erase markers as cosmetics. For real. I complimented her on her new style of eye makeup and she divulged that it is a dry erase marker she got from Home Depot, and that even though it probably isn't so good for her eyes, it glows under black light! I agree: totally worth potential toxic illness.

Quintron told me he'd "explain the long hair later" but he never did. As long as he doesn't grow a goddamn beard, we're cool.

I am and forever will be a fan of his dapper suit look. But you kind of can't beat the custom embroidered, red rhinestone-encrusted garage employee jumpsuit.

Everyone was letting loose…

Having an absolute blast…

Except for this lady, who was tweaking out the entire time.

Before they started she was kind of teetering around, muttering under her breath. While they were checking their sound she'd put her ear to a monitor and wave her hand, exclaiming, "No, no, this isn't right!" She told me she was Jon Spencer Blues Explosion's tour manager in '04 (she said "oh-four"), and that Quintron and Miss Pussycat were support on that tour. (Everyone has a story about how they know Q and P. Everyone.) She left for a while, then returned, standing literally right in front of me with her heels backed up to my toes, balling up and unwinding a long streamer of toilet paper. After dabbing at her face a few times, she wound it around her neck and tied it in a bow. She was completely out of her fucking mind, like even took it upon herself to check the lights and stuff.

And so of course, they brought her onstage.

TEEN LAQUEEFA