It’s tough to make it when you’re a small band in a city that’s not known for it’s vibrant music scene (even if it actually does have a very large one). That’s why we’re setting out to get to know Philly, and are showcasing a lot of up and coming groups from here that are doing whatever they can to help their art be heard.

The first group that we’ve chosen is The National Rifle. Below is a video interview, so that you can get oriented with who they are. We’ll follow up this interview with two live performances and a special music vid. If you want to check them out now, go to their MySpace and play a few of the tracks they’ve put up. As for me, I’m not sure what typing at 3:30 in the morning can do to an article, but I guess we’ll see in the morning.

So let’s say I just started dating this really cute guy. He’s tall, he’s got good hair and he wears an ultra fitted vintage Member’s Only jacket. I mean, what more could a gal want? Unfortunately, one evening while getting ready for Night Train at Kung Fu Necktie, I have a few too many pre-game PBRs with my besties. Before I know it, I’m internet stalking like no one’s ever stalked in the history of stalking. The Facebook is an obvious choice, but I’ve seen EVERY goddamn picture on there. Since this particular night may or may not be the third drunken make-out, I want to uncover more about his past before stumbling home with him at 2 AM.

The internet is a fucking treasure trove of people’s past fashion, hair, relationship, and friend mistakes. Xanga, Live Journal, Photobucket, Myspace- although nearly all but extinct in terms of member usage- STILL exist. I logged in to my Xanga about a year ago just to see if I still could, and low and behold, there were all my angst-y entries from as far back as 2002. It was a nice laugh to see how naïve I was, how frustrated I was with silly things like mean boys and catty girls. Not to say things are any better now, but the jargon of the early 2000’s left me cringing. I revamped and partially deleted my Myspace months ago. I erased almost all the photos and information, although I couldn’t bring myself to abandon it all together.

And thank god, because while creeping under my Myspace account, looking for my cute new hipster biffs profile, I found something imperative to know. DUDE USED TO BE EMO. Now, we all made our mistakes back in high school, I dated boys with long hair and girl’s jeans, but I can’t help JUDGE him. His profile photos have it all. The long swooped over haircut, the picture of him with frighteningly tight jeans and fingerless gloves. The shots of his pop punk band playing at the local legion and even him playing Brand New’s latest riffs after Deja Entendu was released.

As a hipster, I find I must ask myself, how elitist are we… REALLY? If your looking out for posterity, you delete any traces of prior fashion faux pas, your shitty hair that wasn’t ironic and those thin-rimmed glasses you wore before your mom let you get Wayfarers. Can I date a guy who doesn’t care well enough about his personal image to delete his archetypal camera flash and kissy-face Myspace shots? Can I been seen with someone who used to listen to Further Seems Forever while writing in his Live Journal in hopes of emulating Conor Oberst’s lyrical genuis?

The answer, of course, is yes. Especially if he’s hot enough. He’d just better be sure I’m saving those Myspace pictures to my hard drive and saving them for when I’m in need of a lot of laughs.

When I was underage, I never had a fake ID. I was always a bit older than my friends, and I spent most of my 21^st year buying alcohol for underage kids then going out. Before that, we had to make our own fun, partying in the woods or at someone’s parent’s house. Getting alcohol was almost as fun as getting drunk. I’ve had friends tell me stories about getting booze from older brothers, parents, even homeless people. My favorite might have been a friend whose dad was the mayor of our town and had a key to the American Legion next door. Late night missions to steal beer and Banker’s Club were a staple of my formative years.

But the more I go out in Philly, the more I notice that half the fellow bar-goers aren’t even 21. It makes you wonder what the point of checking IDs is, and where the hell all these decent fakes are coming from. I suppose the funny part is all the trouble you have to go through to cover it up, and the unfortunate fact of not being able to tell anyone when it’s your actual 21^st birthday. So many free shots wasted.

I think one of the most awkward situations I found myself in because of a fake was last year when I met a guy at some brand launch party. We started talking on the dance floor and hit it off, fell into a sort of dating situation over the next few weeks. Late one night at a Temple party a friend mentioned his upcoming birthday, and I asked how old he’d be turning, to which he responded 20. Now, I like a younger guy- who doesn’t- but this put a few years between us, and I would have never thought this might be a problem since we met AT THE BAR.

Over the years I’ve known a lot of party promoters, here and in New York, who basically get paid to go out. And the one thing they’ve always had in common was being underage. Groups of cute girls getting table service in their short skirts, staying out till 3, hung over as hell for their high school biology exams in the morning. One of Philly’s It Girls recently starting hosting a weekly party, in order to get her name out for her UPCOMING 21^st birthday. I have friends in NYC who complain about being over the night club scene, and they are a whopping twenty years old. Poor babies.

I guess in the end it’s really the bouncer’s fault. If a babe hands me and ID that says she’s 27, from Queens, and the picture is of a Hispanic women wearing black lip liner, I should know better then to let her in.

The first reactions I heard to M.I.A.’s new video were mixed feelings to say the least. Friends were posting links on their news feeds and saying things about Gingers. When I finally clicked, it was exactly what I thought it would be. An obscenely graphic portrayal of a world where people with red hair are gathered up and killed. And yeah, this isn’t a suggestively obscure video. At one point, they shoot a small child right in the head. There’s naked old people, gingers blowing up and limbs flying, all while M.I.A is droning in the background.

With that said, what’s the point of a video like that? Well, publicity obviously! It’s already been banned on YouTube, and all the music blogs and hipster websites are buzzing about it. M.I.A. hasn’t had an album out in a couple years, and since everyone was so effing sick of ‘Paper Planes’ by the time they stopped playing it on Top Forty radio, she needed something to bring her back to relevancy. But is this it? When I first saw the video start to load, I noticed it was over nine minutes long. I’m wondering if this is a new trend in music videos- making them into small theatrical productions. With all the actors, sets, and CGI, this video must have cost a fortune. The song might be OK, but you’d never know, since every thirty seconds it’s cut off by someone else being beat up or shot dead.

M.I.A. has always been political, and has openly written songs and talked about it in interviews. After doing some research on the gal, I’m going to assume this video could be related to the Sri Lankan Civil War, and the genocide of Tamils. As an artist trying to spread awareness, this video could be a clever way of allowing Americans to relate. Killing people of the same nationality with only a slight difference, their hair color, could possible make an audience realize how senseless genocide is. But in our society, our country, and with our feeble value system, most people watching it will just get psyched on the sweet gory graphics and grossed out by the saggy tits.

Since this video is getting banned online faster than the Jersey Shore cast at a night club, we probably won’t be seeing a lot of it. But if her new album is as good as Kala, we will certainly be listening to it one hell of a lot.

I was clicking around the Women’s Wear Daily website the other day when I stumbled upon some discerning articles. American Apparel, an outfitter of hipsters everywhere, isn’t doing too well. Now, they aren’t filing bankruptcy or anything to that effect. But with stores failing in overseas markets and debt problems, Am Appy is teetering dangerously close to troubled waters.

I’ve always heard that Europeans have edgier style, so I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised that American Apparel is tanking over there. Maybe their basic tees are a little too basic, or maybe Euros don’t ‘get’ things like acid wash. Maybe, since nudity isn’t nearly as sensationalized in Europe, the shocking AA ads don’t work to quite the same effect. Maybe crotch shots and nip slips just don’t work for the super metro-sexual bros of other countries.

Aside from the negative response in other parts of the world, this proudly American vertical retailer recently had to fire 1500 illegal immigrant workers. Quite the complication, with harder to assemble products such as blazers coming out this spring, and no experienced workers to make them. And wait, weren’t they the ones who’ve made a huge shtick about being based in LA, paying fare wages, blah blah blah, since the beginning? Damn, Dov Charney, so NOT hip.

Since all this tumult has been taking place, American Apparel store remodels and openings have come to almost a complete halt. Us city dwellers are safe for now, but don’t count on AA coming to the suburban mall near your mom anytime soon. In the meantime, we’ll have to do our best to stock up on basic tees and slim slacks, for fear that someday they won’t be available to us anymore.

I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves, without American Apparel and thrift stores, nearly all the dudes I know would be riding their fixed gears down Walnut Street naked. And it’s bad enough I have to deal with that once every year.

Last weekend involved making way too many life decisions. Why? Because how the hell is anyone supposed to decide between going to see Major Lazer, Vampire Weekend and Girls all on the same night? In a city laced with lameness on most weekends, this past Friday was jam-packed with rad. Ideally these events could have been spread out over a few epic nights, but instead I ended up scrambling around the city like a madman trying to catch a little piece of all the action.

Of course I started out at Making Time. Girls was playing and since it had been sold out when they came to KFN, I was pretty psyched. Not to mention that I found out about a guest list for employees of the Philadelphia based Hipster Juggernaut, Urban Outfitters. Yup, I saved fifteen bucks just because I can fold t-shirts with the best of them. Only in Philly would you be able to get into any sort of establishment on the guest list because you work at the Mecca of flannels and acid wash.

The thing I love to hate about Making Time is that it is an almost guaranteed awful time. The drinks are too costly, there are always douche bags bumping into you, and once you lose track of your friends you can never manage to find them again. But since this event was FREE, I couldn’t complain. At least not at first. Around 1 AM we decide to check out the action at PYT, which is where the Vampire Weekend after party was taking place. It was pretty dead, we hung out in the back, drank free beer and talked to the DJ’s until after the bar closed. My friends and I didn’t make it to Major Lazer, but considering how many times I’ve seen them, I wasn’t missing much. Not to mention that Skerrit Bwoy and Diplo were in Kung Fu Necktie on Thursday. I love when I can name drop the celebs hanging at my haunts.

So what can be said about this weekend? Well, kiddies, it’s all about who you know! I didn’t pay a single dime to party all weekend. And with a free Making Time Warehouse Party coming up this weekend, I plan on doing it all over again. Got to take advantage of those guest lists and free drinks while you’re still pretty enough for people to pretend to give a shit about you!