Let me just begin with a small caveat: Fashion blogger I am not, nor will I even make any attempt to be, so don’t expect any detailed writing about silhouettes or searing criticism for the designer’s use of midnight black fabric over obsidian. I was invited to the Prince Peter Collection due largely in part to Natalia Kills’ premiere NYC performance.

And also because I’m a blog superstar. I mean, obviously.

Upon arriving at the nondescript SoHo warehouse where the Prince Peter collection was showing on Wednesday evening, I soon found myself in the company of what became a mini-Strangers In Stereo convention, complete with Hard Candy Music and The Culture of Me (and a few minutes later inside, Sheena Beaston and Tastes Like Caramel).

Yes, a gaggle (or murder?) of music bloggers standing outside of a fashion show. WORLDS. COLLIDE.

To my great surprise, the collection’s showing was exactly that: A display of models standing perched against a blank white wall on a set of platforms. No runway. No seats. Just a large studio filled to the brim with buzzing fashionistas all gawking at the skinny tall things against the wall.

And there the models stood, busily mussing their hair and providing their best discontented scowls for the duration of the event.

The troupe was decked out in their finest punk-inspired Prince Peter garments and accouterments (tattered, fraying black and white graphic tees; plaid pants; slitted-up leggings; patent leather boots; mismatched shoe laces), all the while looking very irreverent, very indifferent, and so very, very hungry.

After taking a decent amount of photographs of the group, I soon headed back to the cocktail area, where I saw none other than Miss Natalia Kills quckly working her way through the crowd. She was looking killer (if you will), suited in a studded and spiked leather jacket and acid wash shorts.

Though my vastly cooler bloggy friends insisted I control my senseless pop-filled urges, I figured this was my opportunity: I politely tapped her on the shoulder (or did I grab her arm? I can’t recall), and introduced myself. Luckily, she remembered me from our interview a few months ago and excitedly shook my hand. Smitten!

I sort of launched into fan-boy mode at that point, asking her about the performance and what songs she’d sing. “Oh, I’m going to be dreadful,” to said to me with a worried look. She explained that the soundcheck didn’t go as planned as there were some issues with the audio. I assured her she’d be amazing, but she didn’t seem so convinced.

At that point, the crowd was starting to move toward the models, and I could see that Natalia’s PR was darting back to her, so I asked for quick snapshot together (see above, looking dorky) while there was still time.

“If I’m awful, just throw shit at me,” she urged while being whisked away for more photos. “I will!” I promised. What? Should I not respect the singer’s wishes? (Oh yeah, and that tall blur behind us is Dan Black. See the first photo!)

And then, a bit more waiting. The music and chatter grew louder, the drinks grew numerous and flowed quickly, and the models began to grow restless and stuff their hands down their pants. It was a certain brand of organized chaos.

Mercifully around 7:30, the crowd began shuffling around the main stage around 7:30 as the host of the night, Prince Peter, came onto the stage. With a gratuitously potty-mouthed introduction from the designer (“she’s fucking awesome, she’s the fucking best, etc.”), Natalia walked on stage with two dancers for her first performance in New York City.

“Hello, sweethearts!” she announced to the crowd.

Natalia’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it set consisted of three tracks: “Zombie,” “Mirrors,” and a new track–”Wonderland.” Working it out onstage with two dancers, Miss Kills gave her all despite the space’s unusual set-up, a brief audio cut out, and a tepid response from the…err, fashion-centric crowd. Yeah, let’s call them that.

It was a hard crowd to please for sure (alright, let’s keep it real–it was filled with pretentious hipster douches), but Ms. Kills worked it out despite all the gob-stopping snobbery surrounding her. She banged out the choreography (and there was plenty!), delivered the vocals (and it was live!), and I’ll be damned if she didn’t work that cramped 5-foot-long stage for all it was worth.

Honestly, I was super proud and loving it up completely. I just wish the set wasn’t so short!

Beyond Natalia’s performance, the show soon began winding down. Well, for me at least. Bebe Buell came on stage (Liv Tyler‘s mom, for those unaware) sporting a festive top-hat and a vintage, furry Chanel something-or-other on her shoulders. At that point I’d already had my fun, and was more than ready to head out. So, after squeezing past the 600th stick figure blonde that I mistook for Taylor Momsen, we were gone.

Despite tuckering out a bit early, I had a great time–and the clothing was tres chic–kudos, Prince Peter! A fabulous time all around.

I do wish Chloe Sevigny was there, though.

“Where da fuck is you at, ho?”

On August 5, the All Hearts Tour made its final stop at Webster Hall in New York City, featuring the Far East Movement, Dan Black, Kelis, and Robyn. I attended that concert, and this is what I have to say about it.

When my friend Eric and I arrived at Webster Hall around six, the bar was already full with waiting fans buzzing about. After claiming our free Cherrytree Records label sampler on the sidewalk (Natalia Kills! Agnes! Kelis and Robyn!), we quickly squeezed into the stuffed room, running in the moment the doors were finally opened to the crowd.

The priorities were immediately taken care of: “Don’t Fucking Tell Me What To Do” tee? Check. Front row positioning? Check. Camera settings test? Check. And so began the wait.

This happened. I’m still not sure why.

Almost immediately after we wedged our way into the front of the crowd–about three rows deep at that point–the tour openers came out in rapid succession. Far East Movement provided some danceable, LMFAO-friendly party anthems (perhaps a bit too similar in moments) and Dan Black his indie-electro pop anthems, I have to be honest: I was there solely for Robyn and Kelis. As a result, I don’t have much to say about them. Sorry about it.

Then came the ‘air situation,’ which will do me no favors in perpetuating stereotypes about Jews and the heat. While the AC seemed to circulate during the first two openers, it was painfully, disgustingly apparent that it had completely ceased by the time Dan Black and crew cleared the stage. It deeply displeased the gays.

“Bitch, get out here already!” whined one. “Someone turn on a damn fan!” came another. There was also my personal favorite: “Da fuck you at, ho?”, which resulted in a smattering of giggles each time. Despite the various attempts to fan ourselves and/or disrobe, the body glitter was fast beginning to drip down to the floor.

At around 8:30, the lights dimmed, the microphone glowed fluorescent, and Kelis took to the stage. The singer, dressed in a shimmering metallic blue one-piece catsuit not unlike her Sea Monkeys-inspired piece, smiled calmly and began to launch into a mini-monologue about tolerance and unity. I think, anyway.

Sadly, the crowd mostly drowned out her words. “I’m trying to get you guys to answer back,” she half-whined, laughing deeply and rolling her eyes. She returned to her initial point: “I will not judge,” she instructed us to repeat. “I will not judge!” The crowd responded. “…Because we control the dance floor,” she commanded. The crowd returned the call. She repeated it again; the crowd thunderously echoing it back. There. That was better.

Before the crowd could applaud their group effort, the grinding synthesizers of Kelis’ gay anthem, “Emancipate” rocketed into the venue, turning the entire floor into a ballroom of fierce poses and snapping wrists.

Kelis provided a powerhouse performance of sex, sass, and soul. Tackling some classics (“Trick Me”) and some covers (Ol’ Dirty Bastard‘s “Got Your Money”) along the way, the singer performed almost the entirety of her latest album for the crowd, including “22nd Century,” “4th Of July (Fireworks),” “Scream,” “Acapella,” and “Emancipate.” And, of course, there was “Brave.”

As you all might well already know, “Brave” isn’t just an album favorite, but one of my favorite songs of the year. So as the stinging electronic beats entered the speakers, I had what we in the industry like to call a “moment.” More specifically, I grabbed my friend’s arm–a bit too hard–and began jumping like a loon and lightly convulsing.

In contrast, Kelis played it stone cold cool with her delivery of the track, singing the song pitch perfect and stepping back during the song’s chaotic explosion of grinding synths to allow the beat to speak for itself.

“Milkshake” was, of course, another crowd favorite, made all the better (and gayer) thanks to a mash-up with Madonna‘s “Holiday.” “Work, bitch…WORK!” one group offered to my left. And so she did.

These hips don’t lie.

I’d like to take a moment to show some appreciation for Kelis’ hips at this point. Never have I ever seen a woman work and twerk her body the way Kelis did that night–shimmying and sashaying in a way that would have Shakira blushing.

By the time Kelis casually strutted off stage, the entire audience was consumed in a sweat, semi-stunned by the sheer energy of the singer’s performance. It was an incredible performance. How was it exactly that this concert was only halfway over?

After about a half hour of set up, the lights faded to black again. A voice-over began to announce Robyn’s arrival–sort of like an updated version of “Curriculum Vitae” from Robyn’s 2005 record. The lights began to flicker and the bass boomed, making the entire venue feel like a rocket was about to make a crash landing.

Out walked Robyn, or rather–strutted, with a cool smirk and a bossy swagger. As she took to the mic, a fat bass began to grind and electronic noises began to pulsate, prompting the singer to gyrate and moan in delight, punching the air with an energy that wouldn’t cease until the closing note of her set. And then she started to sing “Fembot.”

Gays: Do you know the part in Moulin Rouge when Zidler selects the Can Can as the dance of choice and the entire place erupts into a chaotic frenzy of dancing and screaming to the point where you couldn’t quite tell whether people were celebrating or going into epileptic shock? That was Robyn’s set.

The singer put on a show like no other, stopping just once for a swig of water and a quick sit-down in front of the keyboardist during a dance-laden set that lasted over an hour. Apart from that, she was a dancing fool; refusing to stop between songs. Instead of breaks between tracks she performed dance interludes, raging against manic strobe lights as though she were exorcising her demons for all to see.

The Robyn I saw last week at the iHeartRadio taping was hardly the Robyn on stage at Webster Hall this night. Growling, grinding, thrashing, and taunting, the singer was an unstoppable force of bossiness and brattitude. She worked the stage like no one’s business, often approaching the crowd (and myself) within an inch of touching someone’s outstretched hand, squinting her eyes and swiveling her head curiously. “Oh, what?” she’d mouth to the crowd member. “You want some of this?”

Perhaps the most impressive and awe-inspiring aspect of Robyn as a performer is her indescribable presence and performance quality. She weaves in and out of attitudes–at one moment sweetly chirping “Thank you all so much for coming tonight!”, the next, on the floor grinding against the stage and flipping the bird to the crowd. There is no other artist that even comes close to delivering the performance Robyn can with simply a mic and a stage alone other than Madonna.

The singer certainly stuck with the uptempo side of things, including the fist-pump friendly “Cobrastyle,” and her collaboration with Royksopp, “The Girl and The Robot,” delivered while basking in an eerie green glow.

Midway through her set, Robyn took a rare, highly deserved moment to herself as “Don’t Fucking Tell Me What To Do,” the intro track from Body Talk Pt. 1 and unofficial All Hearts anthem boomed overhead. The singer swung a sweat towel around her neck, and pulling out–what else? A banana. Literally right in front of me, she peeled and ate the banana, staring down the audience like a bad boss bitch. It was fantastic. I just wish she shared a bite.

Of course, there was her latest single from Body Talk Pt. 1, “Dancing On My Own,” which was performed to the pinnacle of perfection. The same fierce choreography, the same solid vocal performance. Nothing beats that moment when she steps away from the mic for a brief power snap backward–except, of course, the rapid-fire punch-the-air mania of the bridge. AMAZING. I just wish she’d punch out the mic again!

To my great surprise, Robyn also whipped out a treat from her self-titled 2005 record, an electro-enhanced re-rub of one of my favorite songs from the singer, “Who’s That Girl?” Donning a beret, the singer sauntered her way across the floor to the song’s killer beats, and, approaching the drum set, began furiously banging out a quick drum solo before throwing out her drumsticks into a swarming sea of wanting fans. Delicious.

By the end of the show, all sense of decency was out the window. Shirts were strewn and dangling as cameras, now visibly dripping and slipping between fingers, fought against waves of people thrashing to Robyn’s unbelievable performances. The entire venue was flailing and swaying–so much so that the floor below us began to wobble uncomfortably underneath our feet. Even the uptight, pretentious gay to my right with his hands folded that did nothing but sip a beer the whole night broke out into a somewhat vigorous head-bob. (But seriously, who does that at a concert? And in the front row, no less?)

After the show’s “ending” (there’s always an encore), Robyn quickly popped back onto the stage for two more songs: “Dream On” and “With Every Heartbeat,” two of her most anthemic tracks.

“And it hurts with every heartbeat!” the crowd shouted back breathlessly in the final seconds of Robyn’s set. With a final wide grin, Robyn held up her hands together to form a heart shape in between her fingers and thumbs. A thousand more greeted her from the audience, thus concluding the All Hearts Tour in the most literal sense.

When we somehow found our way back to the hotel following the show, we could do nothing but crawl onto the ground and moan in pain. As a famous Swedish songstress might say: My legs were killing me. My neck was killing me. My arms were killing me. It literally felt like I’d just gotten beaten up–and really, we did. Robyn and Kelis had sonically punched us in the gut, leaving us lying on the floor, panting and otherwise motionless.

Officially speaking, the All Hearts Tour was unmistakably, undoubtedly, and indubitably one of the greatest and most exciting concert experiences I’ve ever had.

Unofficially? OMFG BEST SHOW EVARRRR.

Many thanks and so much love to Muuser Eric H. for joining me for this most epic of adventures, as well as selected photos above.

This is a track that first popped up on my radar (on my ray-duh) back last year, but only now is it finally seeing what we in the industry like to refer to as a ‘proper release.’

Dan Black‘s “Symphonies” is a blend of the now instantly recognizable drum beat from RiRi‘s “Umbrella” and a cover of sorts of Notorious B.I.G.‘s “Hypnotize.”

The result is something altogether pleasing–catchy, melodic, and slightly angelic all in the same go around.

Oh, and the video is superb, traveling the highs and lows of contemporary film advertisements and title scenes. Shame Amanda Lepore sort of just did this a month ago with a smaller budget and a lot more lipstick.

DL: Dan Black – Symphonies (Passion Pit Remix)

Dan Black’s album, ((Un)), will be released on July 13.

Seems like I only just did a remix post. Well, I kind of did on Sunday, but this is the proper Weekend edition! A lot of jittery electro nonsense this time around. If I had to recommend anything, it’s the Passion Pit mix of Dan Black‘s track, “Symphonies.” It jumps from trip-hop, to rave, turns down the BPM, and then does it all over again…fun!

As usual, take what you want, leave what you don’t.

DL: Passion Pit – Little Secrets (Internal Friends Complain Remix)
DL: Dan Black – Symphonies (Passion Pit Remix)
DL: Fonzie ft. Flam – Hands Up (Teh Interwebz Kids Remix)
DL: Markus Lange & Daniel Dexter – We Were Wild (Disco Trash Music Remix)
DL: Eli Smith – Party All Knight (True Pseudo Mix)
Bloc Party – Ares (Melting Wing Remodel)

Dan Black is an up-and-coming sort of artiste. He has a sexy kind of voice, and consequently, a sexy kind of face. This is him:

Sassy. His first single is called “HYPNTZ”. If you’ll notice, there are no vowels in this title, suggesting that the song should be pronounced “hip-nits.” Part RiRi‘s “Umbrella,” part Starman soundtrack, and most parts a cover of Notorious B.I.G.‘s “Hypnotize,” “Hip-Nits” is a clusterfuck of choral brilliance, hipster tongue-in-chic, and loads of astro noise. It all sounds quite nice in my head.

Then there is the single’s b-side, “These Things Take Time,” which is probably just as good. It’s a cover of The Smiths‘ “These Things Take Time,” coupled with a certain Timbaland song sample that you may recognize. This sample is from 2006 however, which means that you’ll encounter feelings of nostalgia rather than nausea, because a Timbaland beat was still precious and new to us in those innocent times.

Black’s people have allowed us two free downloads of his latest single, so he must be sort of a nice guy, yes? Yes. I like him.

DL: Dan Black – HYPNTZ
DL: Dan Black – These Things Take Time

Check out Dan Black and his sick, sick tunage at his musical MySpace here.