Billboard, Yahoo, Thieves, and Chingy

But first, I must discuss today's events regarding the artist formerly known as Britney Spears. I'm going to leave up the creepy androgynous video for another week because, while I hate to say it, that blubbering ass of a human has a good point. The insatiable appetite of Americans, as fueled by the media, has officially destroyed a life. Now, I know this probably sounds preachy. And I know that Britney has to be held accountable for her own actions. But, after over 10 years in the biz, throughout which she was not given a moments privacy or even normalcy, she was actually driven to insanity. As if the sign's weren't clear enough when she a) married Kevin Federline b) shaved her head c) showed her vagina to the paparazzi d) hit another car in a parking lot and drove away or e) attempted a drugged and hazy "comeback," now things couldn't be more obvious.

You have to give her credit though...unlike most Americans who aren't fit to be parents, Ms. Spears was willing to give up her rights to parentage by refusing to a) admit to twice-weekly drug tests b) sign a form and c) do anything at all required of her by the judge to maintain custody of her children. Thank you Britney, for teaching parents everywhere that, if you decide against an abortion and against adoption, you can always be an alcoholic, drug addicted mess to get rid of your unwanted kids.

Moving on.

Last Tuesday I had the chance -- nay, the honor -- to help set up and attend the Billboard/Yahoo Advertising Week (yes, apparently there is such a thing) concert at B.B. King's in Times Square. The performers were invite-only and included the likes of a few I can't remember, and such notables as Cary Brothers (see Garden State Soundtrack, 'Blues Eyes'), Company of Thieves (see Music That Rocks My Face Off), and Chingy, who singlehandedy revolutionized the way in which I say anything that ends in -ere (see Hurr, Thurr, and Everywhurr).

The setting up was, needless to say, tedious. But I met a guy in the biz, and he seemed keen on helping me find a paying job (woo!) once these internships are over. I got to hang with Cary Brothers for a while, but Chingy was by far the highlight, if for no other reason than his crazy Ebonics. We had about 100 empty boxes by the end of set up and I said sarcastically, "Hey, Chingy, you want some boxes?" To which he replied, "Nah, man, already gotta gaguh boxes." I laughed in his face, which I'm not sure he appreciated, but we talked a bit and he was a surprisingly nice, albeit inarticulate, guy. His posse was also quite hilarious, but quite a bit less witty and intelligent seeming...probably why they're sitting B.B. King's on a Tuesday afternoon and riding on the coattails of they're hugely successful friend.

Anyway...the show started that night, and when I showed up in jeans and a polo, I felt nothing but shame for my foolishness. How could I overlook the fact that this was the previously unknown, but now famed Advertising Week? Didn't I know I needed a suit to go to such a prestigious event? Because of my striking good looks, the bouncer let me by anyway. I got to my table in time to charge my dinner and drinks to the bluhammock (the record company that I work for) tab, and sat to enjoy the show.

After an eventless but solid Cary Brothers performance, an unsigned five-piece band out of Chicago took the stage calling themselves Company of Thieves (myspace.com/companyofthieves). Earlier in the day, during set up, I had immediately fallen deeply in love with Genevieve (I know I know, great name), the band's lead singer, whose quirky and awkward presence both on stage and in person were incredibly endearing. When she took the stage for showtime, however, it was like a new person had metamorphosed from the quiet girl of earlier. When I spoke to her later, she was back in shy/impish mode. But that is all beside the point...

The band, in a word, rocked. Their seamless blend of funk, indie-rock, latin, and jazz influences is incredibly unique, and the free CD I received at the show has been playing on my iPod for a week straight. Check that shit out.

I won't even bother describing Chingy's performance. Though he claims to enjoy playing with a live band better, he was relegated to a DJ and only one stage-posse-member. After a stirring (please note, in today's blog "stirring" should be taken to mean boring, artless, and repetitive) rendition of the hit that put him on the hip-hop and pop-culture map, "Right Thurr," the show ended with hundreds of rich, drunk, white people cheering in appreciation for his complete massacre of what some of us like to call music. I thought Kanye got me over my hatred of hip-hop, but I guess that's not true. That angry, cynical bitterness is still thurr...I mean...there.