archives
200508
You Do As The Scorpions Have Done Before You
2005-08-29 -- Morgan
Hell yeah, we like to rock...rock you like a hurricane! You ought to know, had you been to C.I.A. for the 1-2-3 combination of End Of Reason, Del Toro, and MAGNA. And you would further know if you partied until the wee early hours at Mikey and Emma's (you guys rule!). So thanks to everybody that made it a tasty evening, and be warned that we have more hijinx for you next week at the Blind Tiger.
I just wanted to point out that parts of Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama are getting their asses kicked. Well, drenched and then kicked. Not that you ought to be getting your news from this site...real news comes from here. Once again I must say that the west coast is the better of the two coasts, and no stinkin' gulf region can touch it either. Yes, Citizen Dick, touch it.
If you really want to hurt your noggin', try and figure out why with all the photoshopping they couldn't make her face look less horsy.
2005-08-29 -- Morgan
Hell yeah, we like to rock...rock you like a hurricane! You ought to know, had you been to C.I.A. for the 1-2-3 combination of End Of Reason, Del Toro, and MAGNA. And you would further know if you partied until the wee early hours at Mikey and Emma's (you guys rule!). So thanks to everybody that made it a tasty evening, and be warned that we have more hijinx for you next week at the Blind Tiger.
I just wanted to point out that parts of Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama are getting their asses kicked. Well, drenched and then kicked. Not that you ought to be getting your news from this site...real news comes from here. Once again I must say that the west coast is the better of the two coasts, and no stinkin' gulf region can touch it either. Yes, Citizen Dick, touch it.
If you really want to hurt your noggin', try and figure out why with all the photoshopping they couldn't make her face look less horsy.
Girl, Interrupted
2005-08-25 -- Morgan
While I should be waxing about the larger than life triple threat tomorrow night at CIA, news that one of Hollywood's almost up and coming starlets has been missing for two weeks proved a distraction. Before we start filming episodes of Unsolved Mysteries, I say we just head over to Wilmer Valderrama's place and let her out of his subterranean torture-sex dungeon. This asshat's luck with the young and the breasted is on pace to match Scott Baio's legendary run in the 80's. With Lohan and Moore already confirmed kills, the threat of little Willy is about to reach epic proportions. I don't care where the line is between rumor and fact, but once you start mentioning Eva Longoria, Ashlee Simpson, and Jessica Alba in the same breath, only trouble can follow. Can't we just let Winona Laura Horowitz work her voodoo on him and take him out of circulation...he is the only guy left in the industry she hasn't dated.
**REVISED**
Shit! She turned up. Still, no apologies to Fezzy. Rotten lucky bastard.
2005-08-25 -- Morgan
While I should be waxing about the larger than life triple threat tomorrow night at CIA, news that one of Hollywood's almost up and coming starlets has been missing for two weeks proved a distraction. Before we start filming episodes of Unsolved Mysteries, I say we just head over to Wilmer Valderrama's place and let her out of his subterranean torture-sex dungeon. This asshat's luck with the young and the breasted is on pace to match Scott Baio's legendary run in the 80's. With Lohan and Moore already confirmed kills, the threat of little Willy is about to reach epic proportions. I don't care where the line is between rumor and fact, but once you start mentioning Eva Longoria, Ashlee Simpson, and Jessica Alba in the same breath, only trouble can follow. Can't we just let Winona Laura Horowitz work her voodoo on him and take him out of circulation...he is the only guy left in the industry she hasn't dated.
**REVISED**
Shit! She turned up. Still, no apologies to Fezzy. Rotten lucky bastard.
Magna RSS feed now available
2005-08-20 -- Daniel
The Magna Feed is here. Don't worry. You can consider yourself lucky if you don't know what that little orange button does for you. You are not a geek. But if Morgan's posts are like crack to you, you're so stoked to have this. I had an itch. I scratched it. That's all there is to this post. Guitar-playing will now resume.
2005-08-20 -- Daniel
The Magna Feed is here. Don't worry. You can consider yourself lucky if you don't know what that little orange button does for you. You are not a geek. But if Morgan's posts are like crack to you, you're so stoked to have this. I had an itch. I scratched it. That's all there is to this post. Guitar-playing will now resume.
What A Long, Strange Trip It Hasn't Been
2005-08-09 -- Morgan
Ten years ago, hundreds of thousands of dirty hippies mourned the death of their de facto leader. Patchouli consumption dwindled, vegan burritos mysteriously disappeared from coliseum parking lots, and the one mighty and talented Phish dumbed down their music for a bewildered and directionless group best described as a non-violent Manson family. The dirt nap also settled the argument who could play guitar with the most foreign substances in their body, and marked the last high grossing quarter for Birkenstock and Teva.
In my youth, Jordan turned me on to band after band, but I had always resisted The Grateful Dead. By college my resistance had fallen and I admit that I had a few of their albums, even a tie-died shirt, which now is too small but makes for sexy sleepwear for the occasional girlfriend (that and a pair of panties -- hot corn!). I even went to Dead Mecca once -- the bay area, for a show in 1993, and yes, there is a story:
Oakland, along with Shoreline and the defunct Fillmore were the holy triumvirate of the northern California Dead circuit. I drove up from Santa Barbara with this kid Wayne, who's claim to fame was that his older brother was the cutesy son on a "family" drama. I'd spent some time in Santa Cruz at Casa Weiss where Steve "those ax handles are for smashing pumpkins" Murillo and Chicago's finest, Nick Brown also lived. The enclave that went to the show included the ubiquitous Dr. Berkowitz, and while it's hard to remember the details of the weekend, the show in particular stands out. After some industrial grade herbed brownies and hashish, everybody was fairly tolerant of the scummy hippies running around pawning hemp bracelets and feigning intellectuality in their discussions of art and literature (which was really over Robert Hunter lyrics and the best Steal Your Face design).
After surviving the asphalt encampments we made our way inside to the pit area, where I got closer to more women with dreadlocks and underarm hair than I ever wanted. We were outsiders in this world, but united in our goal to enjoy moderately interesting music under severe drug induced conditions (there's no other way to survive a 35 minute version of Darkstar). It took a while, but the Dead were about to come on, and that was fairly exciting...although it was all too much for Wayne. The little fella was perhaps 5' 3" on a good day, and while he had some of the baby fat that escalated his brother to child actor fame, his drug intake paled in comparison to his ability to function on it. Given the tight quarters, his diminutive height, total intoxication, and the shocking awe of seeing the Dead for the first time, Wayne fell right over like something out of a movie.
It was strange to see the sandwiched bodies part like the Red Sea as Collapsible Wayne keeled over backwards. I've seen people pass out before, but this was almost cartoonish the way he stiffened up and pitched backwards. When Caramoo went lights out at Rasputina (because she was dehydrated and overheated while wearing her bitchin' wig), at least she wavered before slumping into my arms. There on the ground in a state of bliss lay Wayne, locked in a perfect moment even as security rushed over to him. After a few moments he stirred and got to his feet, brought back to the realm of the conscious by the opening notes of some song everybody but me identified in three seconds, as if nothing had happened. I leaned in to ask if he was okay, and he said he was fine, but a few moments later he asked to borrow my chincy Mexican poncho to tie around his waist, Apparently Lame Wayne totally pissed himself when Saint Jerry hit the stage and wanted to hide his soggy pants.
So today is a day to remember the past, when I was taken aback by the long time coming expiration of Cherry Garcia and used that as an excuse to take a day off of studying for the LSAT, and basically talk about a dude who dumped his bladder. I guess I could have spent more time talking about how Betty Boop hit 75 today, but I don't really have many tales that relate to her...sorry.
2005-08-09 -- Morgan
Ten years ago, hundreds of thousands of dirty hippies mourned the death of their de facto leader. Patchouli consumption dwindled, vegan burritos mysteriously disappeared from coliseum parking lots, and the one mighty and talented Phish dumbed down their music for a bewildered and directionless group best described as a non-violent Manson family. The dirt nap also settled the argument who could play guitar with the most foreign substances in their body, and marked the last high grossing quarter for Birkenstock and Teva.
In my youth, Jordan turned me on to band after band, but I had always resisted The Grateful Dead. By college my resistance had fallen and I admit that I had a few of their albums, even a tie-died shirt, which now is too small but makes for sexy sleepwear for the occasional girlfriend (that and a pair of panties -- hot corn!). I even went to Dead Mecca once -- the bay area, for a show in 1993, and yes, there is a story:
Oakland, along with Shoreline and the defunct Fillmore were the holy triumvirate of the northern California Dead circuit. I drove up from Santa Barbara with this kid Wayne, who's claim to fame was that his older brother was the cutesy son on a "family" drama. I'd spent some time in Santa Cruz at Casa Weiss where Steve "those ax handles are for smashing pumpkins" Murillo and Chicago's finest, Nick Brown also lived. The enclave that went to the show included the ubiquitous Dr. Berkowitz, and while it's hard to remember the details of the weekend, the show in particular stands out. After some industrial grade herbed brownies and hashish, everybody was fairly tolerant of the scummy hippies running around pawning hemp bracelets and feigning intellectuality in their discussions of art and literature (which was really over Robert Hunter lyrics and the best Steal Your Face design).
After surviving the asphalt encampments we made our way inside to the pit area, where I got closer to more women with dreadlocks and underarm hair than I ever wanted. We were outsiders in this world, but united in our goal to enjoy moderately interesting music under severe drug induced conditions (there's no other way to survive a 35 minute version of Darkstar). It took a while, but the Dead were about to come on, and that was fairly exciting...although it was all too much for Wayne. The little fella was perhaps 5' 3" on a good day, and while he had some of the baby fat that escalated his brother to child actor fame, his drug intake paled in comparison to his ability to function on it. Given the tight quarters, his diminutive height, total intoxication, and the shocking awe of seeing the Dead for the first time, Wayne fell right over like something out of a movie.
It was strange to see the sandwiched bodies part like the Red Sea as Collapsible Wayne keeled over backwards. I've seen people pass out before, but this was almost cartoonish the way he stiffened up and pitched backwards. When Caramoo went lights out at Rasputina (because she was dehydrated and overheated while wearing her bitchin' wig), at least she wavered before slumping into my arms. There on the ground in a state of bliss lay Wayne, locked in a perfect moment even as security rushed over to him. After a few moments he stirred and got to his feet, brought back to the realm of the conscious by the opening notes of some song everybody but me identified in three seconds, as if nothing had happened. I leaned in to ask if he was okay, and he said he was fine, but a few moments later he asked to borrow my chincy Mexican poncho to tie around his waist, Apparently Lame Wayne totally pissed himself when Saint Jerry hit the stage and wanted to hide his soggy pants.
So today is a day to remember the past, when I was taken aback by the long time coming expiration of Cherry Garcia and used that as an excuse to take a day off of studying for the LSAT, and basically talk about a dude who dumped his bladder. I guess I could have spent more time talking about how Betty Boop hit 75 today, but I don't really have many tales that relate to her...sorry.
Secret Pint - REVISED
2005-08-08 -- Morgan
I"M NOT GOING TO CHANGE THE ORIGINAL POST BECAUSE I RULE, BUT THIS IS AN AMENDMENT - MAGNA IS NOT PLAYING AT THE BLIND TIGER ON THURSDAY. DEL TORO IS PRESENTLY UNAVAILABLE TO PERFORM AND THAT CHANGES THE DEAL. SORRY KIDS!
The icy grip of death once again missed the asshats in Good Charlotte and took a Canadian and a Cuban. What the shit, man? Ch falls in-between Ca and Cu...these close calls are frustrating as hell and quite the disappointment. It's worse than the time my date got her period at dinner (true story, folks). Other than 2005 - 06 hockey season, what else can I go to sleep looking forward to in the morning? Oh yeah, the Blind Tiger!
In preparation for the upcoming show at CIA, we're going to play a set with some tunes seldom heard. Seldom? Yes, because when you only have 40 minutes to play and an average song by MAGNA is over six minutes, well, you're smarter than you look, so do the math. But don't think that these are the crap songs. There are no crap songs by MAGNA. Well, "Outro" is a little weak, but then again that's why you never heard it.
So the info is partly up on that cutesy picture, but if you want to know where the joint is, go to the shows page -- I mean, really, did I have to tell you that and waste a link? The Blind Tiger is so cool that we're almost on the verge of being thrown out for lack of coolness (and not for molestering the patrons, as the rumor has circulated). Prohibition era speakeasy + MAGNA x You = the most fun you can have on a weeknight without the aid of medical supplies*!
*wheelchair not withstanding
ps. We are presently seeking a mistress / master of merch to be ever-present at MAGNA gigs. Compensation is negotiable, but be assured your admission and vice needs will be taken care of, and perhaps that of your friends. Also, we are looking for fellow artists in the photography and film realm interested in collaboration or TFP. As always, we are soliciting hot, nasty sex, stolen items, and hard drugs. But please, no more peyote. Really.
2005-08-08 -- Morgan
I"M NOT GOING TO CHANGE THE ORIGINAL POST BECAUSE I RULE, BUT THIS IS AN AMENDMENT - MAGNA IS NOT PLAYING AT THE BLIND TIGER ON THURSDAY. DEL TORO IS PRESENTLY UNAVAILABLE TO PERFORM AND THAT CHANGES THE DEAL. SORRY KIDS!
The icy grip of death once again missed the asshats in Good Charlotte and took a Canadian and a Cuban. What the shit, man? Ch falls in-between Ca and Cu...these close calls are frustrating as hell and quite the disappointment. It's worse than the time my date got her period at dinner (true story, folks). Other than 2005 - 06 hockey season, what else can I go to sleep looking forward to in the morning? Oh yeah, the Blind Tiger!
In preparation for the upcoming show at CIA, we're going to play a set with some tunes seldom heard. Seldom? Yes, because when you only have 40 minutes to play and an average song by MAGNA is over six minutes, well, you're smarter than you look, so do the math. But don't think that these are the crap songs. There are no crap songs by MAGNA. Well, "Outro" is a little weak, but then again that's why you never heard it.
So the info is partly up on that cutesy picture, but if you want to know where the joint is, go to the shows page -- I mean, really, did I have to tell you that and waste a link? The Blind Tiger is so cool that we're almost on the verge of being thrown out for lack of coolness (and not for molestering the patrons, as the rumor has circulated). Prohibition era speakeasy + MAGNA x You = the most fun you can have on a weeknight without the aid of medical supplies*!
*wheelchair not withstanding
ps. We are presently seeking a mistress / master of merch to be ever-present at MAGNA gigs. Compensation is negotiable, but be assured your admission and vice needs will be taken care of, and perhaps that of your friends. Also, we are looking for fellow artists in the photography and film realm interested in collaboration or TFP. As always, we are soliciting hot, nasty sex, stolen items, and hard drugs. But please, no more peyote. Really.
Inside The Sun
2005-08-02 -- Morgan
Mega-mucho thanks to everybody who came out the other night to the El Rey, which was disgustingly fun. Your support is always appreciated, as is your flesh and vitality, which we feast upon afterwards like a walking Dorian Grey portrait. It was a treat to play there and for anybody who was in the audience knows, the sound in there is soooo tasty -- you got to hear MAGNA in optimum conditions.
Descriptions from a band perspective can be found in the forum shortly, and for those who made it and want to tender a review can toss a thread on
2005-08-02 -- Morgan
Mega-mucho thanks to everybody who came out the other night to the El Rey, which was disgustingly fun. Your support is always appreciated, as is your flesh and vitality, which we feast upon afterwards like a walking Dorian Grey portrait. It was a treat to play there and for anybody who was in the audience knows, the sound in there is soooo tasty -- you got to hear MAGNA in optimum conditions.
Descriptions from a band perspective can be found in the forum shortly, and for those who made it and want to tender a review can toss a thread on