Cover artist: Mark Mothersbaugh

Showpaper is a biweekly newsprint list of local all-ages shows, a one-sheet that harkens back to the days of punk flyers and Xeroxed fanzines. But the most unfailingly superb part of Showpaper is a regular sidebar called "I Saw You," a kind of Missed Connections for tallboy drinkers and Brooklyn bike-lock carriers. These blurbs are usually hilarious and horn-doggy, flirty and fickle. So every once in a while, we republish some of the best. Usually, there's five, but this time, we've just got two from the brand-new issue--extra-special ones from Todd P's Fort Tilden acoustic BBQ. Guess who makes a special guest appearance?

Just hanging from the ceiling, with a towel on: funny part is that isn't even my pantless friend

Last fall, we awarded the Best CMJ Foot-Soldiering PR Hustle of 2008 to the Hermit Thrushes, five Philly psych-folkers whose shaggy-haired drummer approached this here SOTC correspondent at the Fader Fort, passed along his band's press kit in the hopes for some spilled ink, and then proceeded to drop his pants by the door. I happily posted about such antics on the Internet--pantless people make for solid blog entries, you may've noticed--and now feel compelled to share this from the inbox (via Impose), in a press release regarding Hermit Thrushes' upcoming Slight Fountain, due out on Joyful Noise Recordings this June 23, from the band's official bio:

The band released their debut, Benaki on Single Girl Married Girl in June of 2008, followed by a 7" record, a cassette tape, four national tours, and a notorious CMJ Marathon appearance involving a pants-less drummer and a Village Voice reporter.

And once again, for that and that alone, we give you Hermit Thrushes new song, which, once again, is surprisingly good.

In semi-related news, Nick Thorton from Islands is missing his pants.

Hermit Thrushes, "Snowflake Heart" (MP3)

Dear Matt & Kim: If there was anything you could do to "push away" the cute factor, the above video for "Lessons Learned" that premiered today on MTV is it. Streaking in Times Square, ogling the tall buildings like you're newborn aliens, and then having a cop throw Matt to the ground and wail on him--you win. You're not cute, you're law-breaking exhibitionists, and you will go down in history as the nudist Bonnie and Clyde. Can't say this is going to help with the dirty fantasies, but from now they're just going to involve Kim in knee socks.

King Khan headlines the Music Hall of Williamsburg this Saturday, November 29 and the Bowery Ballroom on Sunday, November 30. Tickets are available here and here.

"I actually smoked pot with [Jay Reatard's] mom."

If you know King Khan, you probably know him from his psych-funk extravaganza, King Khan and the Shrines, or from the fact that he mooned McCarren Park Pool this past summer. After nearly a decade toiling in Germany, Khan's manic, James Brown-meets-Andy Kaufman antics have finally managed to turn heads Stateside with his 10-piece band's greatest hit collection, The Supreme Genius of King Khan and the Shrines (that it came out on Vice certainly helped). But for nearly as long, the Berlin-based Khan and his blood brother BBQ (born Mark Sultan)--both formerly of the notorious Spaceshits--have traipsed around the globe as the King Khan and BBQ Show with just as much success and certainly no less silliness, whittling down rock to its primal essentials: Chuck Berry guitar, a bass drum, a libido, and (if you're Khan) a purple wig.

We caught up with Khan and BBQ at Bushwick's Crypt Records--the same little label responsible for a number of the pair's releases--a day after their show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg with Jay Reatard and Mission of Burma. While Khan stuffed vinyl copies of the band's Teabag Party EP into empty sleeves, we chatted about the Black Lips, Jay Reatard's infamous oven-cleaner incident, and public urination. -- John S.W. MacDonald

In the week we learned the true value of five throbbing monster cocks in the same Christie's lot, we restrained ourselves from buying anything at all from bad art salesman Judah Friedlander. Even a sandwich.

Amazing Baby's Will Roan apparently sleeps on his own couch, but at least he gets out of bed. Harmony Korine is about to have his own amazing baby, who is probably not going to be named Sleepy. Drew Daniel, meanwhile, is thinking about conducting a séance.

Barack Obama may have a surprising amount of things to learn from the president of Americathon. As does Duff McKagan, from the no-less-relevant Krist Novoselic. Jeezy should maybe think about learning from himself.

Adam Green and Lissy Trullie covered Biz Markie at Santos; Liquid Liquid, a few nights later, settled for covering themselves. Kanye's cover art was great until KAWS came along.

Plus, bare breasts and Bones at Richard Prince's Gagosian show, Richard Gehr's Pulp Fictions and Sita and Werner Herzog sing the blues at MoMA, and Everett True goes East, which is also around where we're headed, right about...now.

Monotonix
Cake Shop
April 20
photos by Rebecca Smeyne

First up, Dark Meat, a multi-headed psych-rock mutant that’s a cross between tent revival and bad acid trip, a big and brassy 17-member typhoon lighting up a venue that holds, like, 100 people. No less daunting are Israeli dirt-punx Monotonix, who rant and wail like Extreme Blues Explosion, assaulting audiences with flaming drums, arcing ropes of beer, and loads of too-close-for-comfort sweating. — CHRISTOPHER WEINGARTEN

Note to all "Where Are They Now?" segment producers: Bryan Adams is now a professional photographer who's shot Brian Wilson, Queen Elizabeth, Tony Blair, and Pink in the buff.

He's been in the rock-and-roll hall of fame for over a decade, so it seems Lou Reed's been bored with musical accolades and keeps on auditioning for the Hall of Patronizing Motherfuckers. So naturally in the same weekly-news cycle we get him fawning over Amanda Petrusich's last name and engaging Voice doyenne Lynn Yaeger in a conversation about cosmetics. . . and only cosmetics. For this week's puppy trainer, Yaeger went over to meet Reed while he hung "Visions of Rock"—a vanity show of Mark Seliger-curated photos shot by marquee-name musicians (Patti Smith, Michael Stipe, Lenny Kravitz)—and found the Syracuse grad in jeans, a tie-dyed T-shirt, and BS do-not-disturb concentration. Yaeger writes:

[W]hen I first arrive, we chat inanely about my lipstick for a few minutes. Little do I know that this is the longest conversation we will have. He blows me a kiss from across the room, and that's totally it until he finally gives in to collective pleading and toddles over. Here are his remarks in full:

"I love the photos of Mark Seliger, in the first place. I worked with him before; I wrote the forward to his book. I love all the musicians and their photography. I mean, I like what they sing and what they photograph—these are all overachievers. Don't miss Lou Reed's Berlin, coming to the Tribeca Film Festival! Bye-bye."

Should you want to see the actual print of Pink topless, "Visions of Rock" runs through November 4 at 401 Projects. Bye-bye.

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"Talk to Me, Lou" by Lynn Yaeger

"Visions of Rock" photo, Melissa Auf Der Mar

"Visions of Rock" photo: Michael Stipe

"Visions of Rock" photo: Perry Farrell