Hey guys, this is the first post from our newest writer and good friend, a young lady who happens to be the newly famous anonymous writer and founder of Sorry-mom, a nasty little website that some people think is the most important 3rd wave feminist blog to come out in like the past month, at least. Our pal will be writing regular posts for us concerning some of the more interesting things she encounters in Brooklyn and Manhattan, and below is her first little piece about the recent wave of, uh, Wavves shows in NYC this past weekend. She kind of has a shitty, know-it-all attitude, so don't cry about it. --SR

Nathan Williams is one grumpy little turd. It's his fourth New York show in 48 hrs and after what we're sure was a few nights heavy on beer and light on sleep, his throat is killing him and his speaking voice is reduced to not much more than a croaky whisper. However, I can imagine why else he might be grumpy: The New York fucking Times was at his packed show the previous night, Pitchfork is this close to licking his dick, little art school girls everywhere are sweating his shitty haircut (big time) and here he is in the basement of an Upper West Side coffee house (which, for the record, did not sell coffee) in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. What the hell are we doing here? Despite the shitty locale and the bands showing up a tad late, the tiny room is packed with Columbia students and hungover Brooklyn kids who made the hour + trek to see Nodzzz, Woods and Wavves play. By the time Wavves went on, the audience was shiftless but eerily quiet, standing awkwardly close to each other and whispering after being directed by show booker/Dad-figure Todd P to move closer to the encyclopedia-sized stage. Despite his drummer going missing for the first half of his first song, which he ultimately cut short half-way through due to his tired voice struggling to maintain his trademark hooting, Williams quickly perked back up, bopping enthusiastically through about a half dozen songs. Though he winced dramatically between songs and inexplicably deep throated his Corona instead of letting the bottle's opening meet his mouth like any regular human would (seriously. What?), no one seemed to notice when he tore through crowd favorites "Wavves," "California Goth" and "No Hope Kids" - the diminutive Williams even obliged when Dad P encouraged him to do an encore –after yelling out 3 song titles he had already performed, woops!

Photo of Nathan Williams at Market Hotel show by Joe Perez