Megan Costello

Happy happy joy joy all the time

Noise Pop is over, and what better way to bring the festival to an end than Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.  It was a lazy Sunday here in the city, so lazy that I lazily missed the opening bands at Bimbos and spent 20 minutes looking for parking because I was too lazy to take public transportation to beautiful Bimbo’s 365 Club.

But enough about my inability to be on time, let’s talk about Mr. Sharpe (actually Alex Ebert, front man of Ima Robot), his merry band of bards, and their ability to perform.  It would be an understatement to say that they put on a great show.  They had the crowd at a very giggly “Hello, San Diego!”  There was enough flannel in the audience to clothe Williamsburg in the winter, and by the smell of things, everyone was a jolly as the crowd at Woodstock. [read the whole post]


Fanfarlo entertaining a loving crowd.

Fanfarlo wants you to know that they are not nerds.  I‘m sitting with them in their supremely messy dressing room after their show to a packed audience at the Great American Music Hall while they go through press clippings from the local weekly papers.  “It’s all because Justin used to work at a bookstore and all he’d talk about was books,” Cathy the mandolin/violin player announces.  “We’re really not that bookish.”  When the cooler of drinks is empty, we migrate to the Hemlock before they have to wake up early to fly to Portland. [read the whole post]

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It's worth reading this to find out why the Eiffel Tower is here.

It's worth reading this to find out why the Eiffel Tower is here.

Like any other San Franciscan, I claim to abhor Los Angeles and all it stands for.  Its sleazy, overtly sexualized, and full of plastic looking waiters trying to be actors.  While trying to not enjoy the perfect weather in Venice Beach last weekend listening to a borrowed ipod, I stumbled upon a playlist called Songs to Get Down To.   Naively, I thought I’d be bouncing through traffic to some dance hits. But as it turns out, the owner of the ipod is a Los Angeles Casanova, and what I got instead was a bunch of slow jams.

I was originally going to give this list a little feminine mystique and some sort of demure title hinting at what these songs are for.  But in the spirit of the sleaziest city on the West Coast, I give you 6 Songs to Get Down To. [read the whole post]

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No one here knows why this picture is here.

No one knows why this picture is here.

The best thing about getting ready to go out is the cheesy cliche dance party in your room while half-dressed. There is a reason this scene is included in every teen film since the 80’s- it’s because it’s really fun to do and everyone does it. Even though I am beyond my teens, I still find myself jumping around my room singing into my lip gloss at least once a week a la Hillary Duff in the Lizzie McGuire Movie. (I mean, I never saw that movie. Who’s Lizzie McGuire?)

If you think you can stand the heat of being taunted by your roommates/neighbors/cat, here are my top 6 songs for getting ready to go out. [read the whole post]



Foxes! is a 4-piece indie-pop band from Brighton, England.  Just like in a fox hunt, you have to be extremely fast if you ever want to catch them, especially if you live in a country that doesn’t breed hounds for the traditional hunt.

This clever band recently completed a small but successful California tour without visas, and thus without merch and, most importantly, instruments. They dodged the instrument issue by sharing gear with tour headliner, Oakland’s The Hot Toddies.  Matching their DIY pop sound, Foxes! burned and decorated CDRs to hold over their curious new American fans until the real CDs cross the pond legally.

For a fiver, I nabbed a burned copy of the band’s 5-song debut EP, Who Killed Rob? [read the whole post]



How We Became is the album everyone forgot to notice when it came out last fall.  Then again, the only people that could have noticed it live in England.  America, I present to you the Jeremy Warmsley.

I stumbled upon Jeremy Warmsley on my quest to go through as many Blogotheque take-away shows as possible.  There Jeremy Warmsley was hidden, gangly and unassuming in front of a church, armed only with his acoustic guitar and his warbley voice.  I was smitten.  And so I found my way to How We Became. [read the whole post]