PICTURES OF LILLY

There's something about writing about music as a means of making a living that really sucks all the fanboy-dom right outta you. For nearly a decade, it seems, it was my job to stay on top of what was going in the pop music world. Admittedly, it was fun while I was in that vortex. I discovered lots of cool staff, did the pilgrimage to Austin for SXSW four straight years (Wreckless Eric, '95, forget the club; fucking godhead, I swear). Got to work at Spin for a while (actually, that sounds cooler than it actually was; I hated that job). Went to lots of great gigs, hung with some really great people.

I've kept my little toe in that world over the last few years, but I've become just a periodic dabbler. I tend to write about artists I know and love, rather than those discovered by accident. And if I'm doing a TV script, it's often a show about an artist I would otherwise care less about (Alicia Keys, Pantera, Ratt). Sometimes I feel hopelessly out of touch. I just like what I like and that's it. My stopping point seems to be the lo-fi/indy pop scene of the late '90s. My wife laughs at me for falling into a classic rock rut -- what can I say, darling, I don't think the Killers have much to offer. Yet I see friends, particularly older ones in the upper reaches of their 30s, who don't write about music, yet try desparately to chase that dragon down, to stay relevant and ensure they're at the coolest gig featuring the latest Kinks/Who/Zombies-derived pretty boy band from England. So much energy, and for what? At this point of my life, waiting in a club until some ungodly hour waiting for band du jour to play is a slow, painful form of torture. Besides, you just move from one to the next without falling in love -- it's the sonic equivalent of a one-night stand.

I suppose that's the nature of the fragmented beast these days. I understand the record business as I once knew it is no more. I certainly understand the importance of MySpace. I download music. In fact, it was MySpace that got a buddy of mine talking about the artist who's since become my latest crush. He explained that Lilly Allen had become all the rage in England, helped along by a dubious explosion of MySpace "friends" who may or may not have been professional music hypers. Knowing my predilection for poppy female singers, I checked her out via a video on YouTube. Cool enough, so I bought her album, Alright, Still.

When I popped it into the car, I immediately got one of those indescribable feelings; I couldn't wait to hear all the songs, and then hear them again. It was a feeling I hadn't had since I heard Nellie McKay's Get Away From Me a couple years ago (yeah, I know, no accounting for taste blahblahblah). Objectively, I know it's not instantly classic, but I do hear a mish-mash of artists I love (McKay, the Cardigans, Ms. Dynamite). She's certainly a (probably calculatingly) dirty girl, which is good for some laughs, (and I do love "Knock 'Em Out") but ultimately may hurt her cred if she wants to be taken seriously.

I sense Lilly Allen may be one-and-out in terms of her It-ness. It's hard sometimes to be a fan without thinking like a critical journalist, but ultimately I'm still in the giddy early stages of loving Lilly. I hope it lasts.