At first, I dismissed the second item in this set of entertainment briefs with a haughty “Oh well, it’s from the British press” and looked for the word “reportedly,” but then I noticed it was a pull-quote from FHM*, which means it’s probably nothing more than wishful thinking on Ms. Jameson’s part. But:
Porn star Jenna Jameson has named Scarlett Johansson as the actor she wants to see play her in a forthcoming biopic. Jameson, whose book, How To Make Love Like A Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale, is being made into a film, told FHM magazine: “We’re looking hopefully at Scarlett Johansson. She’s my choice. I think she’s beautiful.”
Lord knows I’ve also been looking hopefully at Scarlett Johansson, but honestly, I think I’ve got as much chance as Jenna does at *ahem* working with her. Then again, I didn’t believe she was recording an album of Tom Waits covers, so what do I know?
* * *
After receiving a press release from this site that laughingly claimed to promote a show with “Chicago’s top bands,” Tankboy and I started discussing musical prejudices today. Specifically, being able to predict with near-certainty whether or not a band will suck by looking at its name. He pointed out that “indie bands pick crap names just to mess with people, while suburbanite-style bands do it because they think the names are actually cool.” True enough, most days.
But then we checked out a band called Real Lunch that sent us a pitch e-mail. I thought it sounded like some weird unintentional combo of that post-mortem Beatles song and the William Burroughs novel, which I later discovered was intentional. A bad omen, that. Plus, they’re from the ‘burbs, still in college, and their frame-heavy website sports a ridiculous bio and a picture of their drummer’s bare ass. All of that was enough to dismiss them out of hand.
And yet …
Their bio (such as it is) mentions Ben Folds and Squeeze and the influences are so obvious, I wonder if it’s as calculated as their name. No matter. There’s also a heavy 70s AM radio vibe going on here as well, particularly in the solo that ends “In The Flood.” It’s immediately accessible music that hits all my New Wave love buttons, which may mean they’re terrible and I’m just a sucker for music that was popular when I was eight years old. Perhaps they’re just masters at catchy hooks that hide otherwise pedestrian music. Like putting truffle oil on regular potato chips to make them seem like more of a culinary achievement than they are. I don’t think that’s the case with these guys, but even if it is, that’s still an achievement.
So again … what do I know?
mp3 – Real Lunch “She Can’t Dance“
* Look, I realize FHM isn’t exactly a paragon of reporting virtue, but I don’t think they’re in the business of making up quotes. Rewriting the laws of physics and anatomy through air-brushing on the other hand …