Wall Of Shame

This past weekend was killer. I took the private AP jet to London and spent Saturday hanging out at the new Rough Trade record store in London's East End and racked up a couple grand on my black Visa card. (What, you only have a platinum one? How is the world of valet parking these days?) After I had 88 pounds (sorry, kilograms) of vinyl air-freighted to the AP Skyscraper, I flew to Tokyo and ended up buying tons of obscure Japanese no-wave records. Later, I had some boss sushi, signed a few autographs for people who thought I was Bill Murray and ended up in a neon-walled hotel room doing komodo dragon venom shots with my spiritual advisor Leyla Milani (your dad knows her as "#13"). I woke up alone to the sound of the neon transformer arcing sparks at me.

As editor of AP, I really do have a charmed life. Especially when I am fast asleep.

All fiction aside, this installment is about apologies. Recent events in the past few weeks have forced me to re-evaluate my positions on several topics of great importance and public grace. I would like to take this moment to come clean.

To PANIC AT THE DISCO: After living with Pretty. Odd. for a while longer, I found many of my criticisms about your record have evaporated. "Mad As Rabbits" has turned into my second favorite song on the disc, and I found the songs have hidden sonic treasures in them that I missed while wrestling with your label's unpredictable secured-streaming migraine machine. So make those three-and-a-half stars an even four-star review, and I'll see you at the end of the year on my Best O' 2K8 list. Sure, I still got my ass handed to me by irate readers who said you were guilty of everything from musically sucking to ignoring your fans and didn't deserve anything good to happen to you. But I get more enjoyment from "She's A Handsome Woman" than I do a run of hate mail from people expecting One More Fever You Can't Sweat Out.

To BEAT UNION: I'm sorry you got a less-than-stellar review of Disconnected from Annie Zaleski in the pages of AP. But frankly, she was right. The record significantly dulls the sharp mod-punk edges you guys wielded so deftly at the AP party during SXSW in Austin. Mr. Warsop, you are a dynamic frontman that exudes both energy and grace, and you have the good sense to know when to turn those characteristics on and off. And hats off to drummer Luke Johnson, who has come a long way from slamming the tubs in Amen to play with a great sense of both groove and power. If you aren't in the band and are reading this, you need to see the Union workers when they play Warped this summer and buy every stick of merch they have.

To THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS: Man, I am so sorry you guys suck. Really. I mean, you make more money in a day than I'll see in a lifetime, and there's nothing (nice cars, model girlfriends, plasma televisions, six-packs of kemodo dragon venom) in your lives that you'll ever want. But that's not why you suck. No. See, I was driving around town last week listening to your second album, Freaky Styley, and having a Class A blast. The rush I got from revisiting "Catholic Schoolgirls Rule," "Battle Ship" (I know it's called "BJ Park," because it was on your set list when you played Morgantown, West Virginia all those years ago) and the title track? Simply amazing. It made me want to forget "Under The Bridge" and all of the millions of fratboys and bubblehead girlies who have affirmed your work of the past decade as something allegedly constituting rock music. I feel bad you guys don't bust out an ass-stomping triumph like "Police Helicopter" anymore. I'm sorry because it's not like you can't do that anymore. It's just that you won't.

To Brett Lyman, formerly of dark funk outfit Measles Mumps Rubella, and current CEO of the band Bad Thoughts: Dude, I can't find any of your singles and I apologize for not being as hip to indie retail as I used to be. Please email me at editorial@altpress.com and tell me how much a copy of "Non Violence" is gonna set me back.

I feel so much better now. Special thanks to my long-suffering wife who spent $100 in cab and train fare in an hour to buy me records in Europe this week. I swear the kitchen will be clean when you get back, hon...