OK, maybe the title of this post is a little misleading. Sue me.

1.    Hall & Oates at the Hollywood Bowl last weekend was even more amazing than expected. At 60, Daryl Hall has got it going on more than most singers a third his age. And the hair! It’s easily the best in the biz. The almighty Spinners opened the show, so I’ve been spending lots of quality time with their incredible catalog via the Rhino box set “The Chrome Collection.” Awesome. So much amazing music in one night. I petition that H&O toss L.A. another date before the end of the year. More, please! And this time, they’d better play “Kiss on My List” and/or “Did it in a Minute.” I’m just saying! I’ll make a sign and everything.

2.    We already talked about the Underworld show the following night. Totally underwhelming is more like it. Color me disappointed.

3.    Only a few short years ago, September 11 was a somber, grey day dedicated to remembering the tragedies of that fateful day in 2001. This year, 9/11 has officially become something of a musical holiday, with all sorts of huge releases hitting the racks, from the Kanye West/50 Cent showdown (Team Kanye, baby!) to the latest from Hot Hot Heat, The Go! Team, Animal Collective and countless more to a slew of concerts around town. WTF? I made a stop at Cinespace to see L.A. faves Hot Hot Heat celebrate their latest, “Happiness Ltd.” with an appropriately sweaty performance for fans that bought the record that day. It was a lot of fun, but how can you not have a good time hanging out with my friends Graham and Rachel?

4.    That same evening I cruised up Sunset post-HHH to catch local glam-rockers A.i. commemorate the release of their latest CD, “Sex & Robots,” at the Roxy. That’s drummer Zach Young laying down the beat in the above picture. While I got there late and missed hostess Joanna Angel (raise your hand if you know who she is. Wow, that’s a lot of hands!), but I did catch the techno-fied trio tear through new tunes like my personal favorite, “Maria on the Moon,” which reminds me of legendary L.A. new wave act Missing Persons. The band is taking their show on the road with an east coast tour next month, and we wish them all the best.

5.    Forgive, but never forget. It keeps you from being bitter, but reminds you to stay on your toes. You can always indulge in mental revenge fantasies just for fun, though. Hehehe...

6.    I get to interview Patrick Wolf on Monday. Wooooooo!

7.    And I’m spent. See you real soon!

OK, we’ve already deemed 2007 the Best Summer Ever™, but this past weekend is vying for the title of Best Weekend of said summer. So many good times were had it’s hard to even remember them all. But I vividly remember the weekend ending late Sunday night at the Swingers restaurant in Santa Monica, after a surprisingly lackluster Underworld show at the Hollywood Bowl. They’re usually so awesome, and last night they were just kind of… there.

Anyway, after getting seated at Swingers and ordering an especially tasty seared Ahi sandwich, I noticed a familiar (and very pretty) face sitting just two booths away, heartily swigging at a bottle of Pellagrino water. It was none other than Brandon Boyd, the ultra-cool singer of the pride of Calabasas, Incubus. Dressed casually in a skullcap and flannel shirt, Brandon and his gal-pal were able to enjoy their meal without being besieged by a single fan (which in L.A., has to be kind of rare for him). Lucky for him, the alt-rock soundtrack playing on the Swingers sound-system never cued up any Incubus, but it came pretty close.

But the real question: When did the food at Swingers get so good? I’m just saying…

There was an extremely fun (and blurry!) couple of years when I lived in Chicago. No offense to my beloved L.A., but in the summertime, Chi-town is arguably the most fun city in America. But it’s hard not to party like a crazy person for the few scant months of sweltering heat when the city is buried beneath a deep freeze for most of the year.

One of those Chicago years was spent sharing a loft with DJs Colette and Dayhota, both charter members of the SuperJane DJ crew with Heather and Lady D. I call it my “Real World” year. If those walls could talk, they’d be really rich screenwriters by now. It was so much fun I eventually had to flee the city to avoid the non-stop party that life became out there.

I’ve always kept in touch with my old pals, and was so excited when Colette’s new album showed up in my promo pile. It’s called “Push” on Om Records, and is a super-fun collection of Technicolor dance tracks and CoCo’s lovely voice. I can’t stop playing “Funny,” a lush, downtempo hip-hop track that rides on an ocean of thick synthesizers akin to productions by the Neptunes. It’s such a nice song that I got kind of emotional with pride listening to it. If you like sweet dance beats attached to actual songs, give “Push” a whirl. Check Colette out live when she performs a free show (with a full band!) at Amoeba on Sept. 28. She brings out the band again at The Vanguard the following evening.

Colette, you’ve come a long way, sister. Rock on.

Oh, laborious. How you tortured me so. The last true party weekend of the season decides to do double duty as the hottest weekend of the year, too. Would that stop me from making my appointed rounds? But of course not, my sexy friends.

Saturday morning equaled an excuse to hit Pasadena and stuff my face with the soul-enriching macadamia nut pancakes at Marston’s. Oh, sweet, delicious glory.

Sunday night brought the big Chromatics show at the Echo. Way more people are into these Portland art-rockers than I realized. Maybe it was our DJ buddies at Part Time Punks pulling the crowd. Either way, by the time Ruth and the boys hit the stage, there were a lot of people queued up to watch them play.

Staying true to the monotonic ice hipstress persona she’s cultivated on Chromatics recordings, Ruth (that's her in the picture) stood stock still the entire time. Dressed in a purple dress, black belt and stilettos, she would occasionally sway from side to side and maybe stare blankly at someone in the crowd. But that’s it. The band (guitar, bass, drums—what, no synth player?), faithfully cranked out the tunes, with “In The City” and “Hands in the Dark (Dark Day)” standing as their strongest numbers (you can find both on the awesome “After Dark” compilation, released on the equally sweet Italians Do It Better label).

I wish I could quote Jessie’s infuriated rant about the show verbatim. But to paraphrase, the general idea is that as a performer, you have to give the audience something more than blank stares and static stage (non)presence.

The crowd, on the other hand, ate it up. I definitely enjoyed a sizable taste of my own. On the way out, I eagerly snapped up a copy of a special limited edition 12-inch of “In The City.” Getting it home, I was so excited to discover that it comes with an a cappella version, a killer minimal remix that’s borderline ghetto, and then, the piece de resistance: A deadpan cover of Springsteen’s 1985 single “I’m on Fire.” The perfect soundtrack for the hottest weekend I’ve ever had to endure in L.A. Keep burnin', y'all.