"Happy Valentine's Day, Valentine!" I screamed to my good friend Liz above the kiss-kiss-slit-slit warbles of The Kills. It was the glorious Hallmark holiday, and we were at the Rickshaw Stop in SF for Popscene's annual February party, red balloons above our heads and a beer and vodka Rock Star in each of our hands, fake blowing kisses at each other for Singles Awareness Day.
The U.K-with-some-Florida vibe duo were in town on a special appearance for the heart-themed holiday, the skinny-jeaned, black-clad Alison Mosshart and Jamie Hince on stage in middle of positively burning holes in the carpet with their jagged guitar licks and breathy, "fuck you" vocals. We were grinding to the sounds, partly because of the Black Keys meets dirty jazz and garage feel, but also because we had also drank an entire bottle of champagne in the car before coming in. Life was good.
The Kills have this innate sense of being attractive without trying, for emitting this badass "I take shit from no one" attitude purely by moving simply; Hince standing on both heels before dipping take a deep slash at his guitar in such a stealthy swoop my heart skipped a beat; Mosshart closing her eyes and approaching her stand to sing, bangs in her face before cocking her mouth right at the cusp of the mic in a seductive way. These two know how to perform, and know how to play, and it is hot. "URA Fever" and "Love Is A Deserter" live are massive treats, an effortless yet intricate tangle of guitar and drum woven together for maximum effect. It was like I was living in the "No Wow" video all night, and it ruled.
Needless to say, we further celebrated the night after The Kills took off, upholding the idea of sexy and having more drinks and hugs and kisses and making out. Then additional drinks were had with throwing shot glasses into buckets in the smoking room and falling into the street at the end of the night and then somehow miraculously using the bathroom without any assistance. After that we went to 7-11 for Slurpees and got sympathy from a homeless dude while leaning out the car door for you-know-what. In the end, I woke up an hour late for the paying job the next day. Valentine's Day really may be in competition with my antics from New Year's, to be honest. If this is the rate I am going at for the 2008 holidays, I might be seeing little leprechauns on St. Patrick's Day telling me to do keg stands...