What becomes a legend most? Certainly not this. As we go to press, Hall of Fame music producer and all-around hermit-y kookball Phil "Wall of>"/>
What becomes a legend most? Certainly not this. As we go to press, Hall of Fame music producer and all-around hermit-y kookball Phil "Wall of Sound" Spector has just been freed on $1 million bond after being charged with first-degree murder in the shooting death of 40-year-old actress Lana Clarkson at his home outside Los Angeles. Though he had recently been in the studio with last year's hot-shit Brits Starsailor, his last major appearance as a producer—long after his glory days with everyone from the Beatles to the Ronettes had passed—was on the Ramones' 1980 outing End of the Century, during which the late Dee Dee Ramone said Spector pulled a gun on him. Long before then, however, the man's deep eccentricities and tricky temper were well-known throughout the industry. . . . Also out on bail: DOON superstar Courtney Love, arrested Tuesday morning at London's Heathrow Airport for "extreme verbal abuse" toward Virgin Airlines personnel. Apparently, England gets all the best of her. Check out the March edition of the U.K. glossy Q, in which Love not only poses fully nude, but allows a photographer to zoom in on the tending of her bikini line, while shouting, as the cutline so succinctly puts it, "Wax my anus!" If you don't have the money for fancy import mags, here are the j-pegs: www.8ung.at/lsgfan/0201/qmag_mar2003_cl01.jpg; www.8ung.at/lsgfan/0201/qmag_mar2003_cl02.jpg; www.8ung.at/lsgfan/0201/qmag_mar2003_cl03.jpg. download and weep. . . . In other sad but more locally attuned news, the Paradox Theatre breathed its last in-house breath on Saturday night, going out with Gatsby's American Dream, Rocky Votolato, Suffering & the Hideous Thieves, and more. But don't cry for them, Argentina; though the building itself is no more, the all-ages
spirit lives on as the nonprofit Artist Reformation Project, coming soon to a number of other venues near you. In fact, ARP is presenting Rilo Kiley, the Good Life, and Mayday at the VERA Project on Feb. 13. . . . Meanwhile, the big kids were able to enjoy not one but two excellent shows this weekend: Namely, slick Swedish fuzz-and-buzz exports Division of Laura Lee, who played to a surprisingly less-than-packed Crocodile, and Juno, Automaton, and the freshly minted, swiftly adored These Arms Are Snakes at Graceland. Says our ever-faithful correspondent Andrew Bonazelli: "Spastic art-core openers These Arms Are Snakes performed sans house lights, and Automaton were collectively cloaked in black tees, but the darkest and loveliest moment of Juno's Saturday-night return: vocalist Arlie Carstens requesting a non-jingoistic moment of silence for the Columbia astronauts, and hundreds of ass-drunk patrons politely complying. Juno proceeded to absolutely destroy until nearly 2 a.m." . . . Meanwhile, back at the ranch: While fighting off a Defcon-1 level hangover this weekend, the normally well-controlled DOON found ourselves nearly tearing up with love for corporate music channels. Say what you will about the programming of its asinine sister channel—120 Minutes (the show we remembered mostly in its late-'80s/early-'90s black-roses-and-Gene-Loves-Jezebel-style incarnation) on MTV2 gave us Catheters and Hot Hot Heat videos within mere moments of one another, and the preceding program, some funky "Influence of Reggae"-themed thing, was basically just a great excuse to play old Blondie and Police videos for two hours. Like Ben-Gay to our aching body, it was. . . . Speaking of television, if it's your thing, tune into Charmed on the WB Sunday, Feb. 9 to see Beth Orton perform her new single for the brunette-and-boobsy Wiccan trio. . . . Friends in high places: Local standbys the Minus 5 are calling on bold-faced buddies for their next record, Feb. 25's
cheekily titled Down With Wilco; namely, Peter Buck, Ken Stringfellow, and—oh, you're so clever—Wilco are all scheduled to appear. . . . Sick of Seattle? Good with the sticks and not too handsome? Then maybe you should apply for the job—becoming Jets to Brazil's new drummer, that is. Since the departure of co-founder Chris Daly, singer Blake Schwarzenbach has put out the word that they're on the hunt, and though the band is appealing to New York/ Brooklyn-area talent first, Schwarzie is asking above all that applicants be "A fan of the band first and a good drummer second, but . . . mostly that you are open to new experience, friendly, and not better looking than us." Pitch yourself accordingly to firstname.lastname@example.org. . . . And now we turn to DOON's Happy Hollywood Corner for those of you who don't read Page Six and Us magazine as pathetically regularly as we do: It looks like the Love That We Wish Had Not Dared Speak Its Name has already withered on the vine. The Britney Spears/Fred Durst affair has reportedly been thrown over by tarty Brit's passion for drunken-but-foxy Irish actors—namely, Colin Farrell, with whom she's been spotted mashing face all over L.A. while Fred follows behind, all droopy and sad-clown dejected. . . . In other actor/music matchups, several reliable sources report that Nicole Kidman's been seen making out all over New York City with former A Tribe Called Quest frontman turned-bling-blingy-solo-artist Q-Tip. We had no idea the former Missus Tom Cruise had such a fever for the flavor. . . . Since you all responded so well to last week's insufferable hipster quiz, here's another one for you: www.kaffee.150m.com/bowiequiz.html—a.k.a., Which David Bowie Are You?
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