As you might have noticed, this is a bittersweet week around here; because of budget cuts, we’ve had to say goodbye to pretty much all the Idolator contributing writers, from columnists to daily bloggers. The site is going to go on as a solo project of sorts, although the news cycle might run at a slightly slower pace. I just wanted to take a moment on this crappy day to thank everyone who’s contributed to the site during my tenure, from the people who helped me sift through the news cycle every day to the columnists, each of whom expanded the focus of the site. More »
Idolator Girl Friday Kate Richardson had her… More »
As you may have gathered, I’m raring to close the book on 2008, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t run down some of the site’s highlights during what was a pretty dreary year overall. After the jump, behold a pretty subjective top 12 of the year (thanks to our technological limbo I can’t run any sort of numbers, but I think this list accurately captures the best moments we’ve had during a long slog of a year). And of course I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank all of you for coming back, reading, commenting, and pointing out when I get shit wrong (which is too often). If you think I got this list wrong, feel free to abuse me with compliments in the comments section!
The Houston Press has an in-depth feature this week on early ’80s Texas new wave heroes the Judy’s, who recently re-released their catalog on CD and reunited to play at the Austin Music Awards. I first heard of the Judy’s my freshman year of high school as I was digging through my dad’s record collection, and immediately latched on to their super-mart brand of bass-and-percussion-oriented weirdo pop, which goes above and beyond your run-of-the-mill new wave fare, an especially impressive feat considering that they developed their sound not amid a thriving scene in New York, L.A., or even Austin, but rather in a garage in the (then rural) Houston suburb of Pearland. They became massively popular in Texas, opening for the B-52s and Talking Heads, and packing clubs for their own shows. Their most famous song is an infectious, squealing tribute the Jonestown massacre called “Guyana Punch.” Thankfully there’s a live 1981 performance of the song, complete with water-tossing and cutoff shorts. Never has mass suicide been so catchy.
It is with the heaviest of hearts that we ring in the new year by reporting that Kate Richardson, Idolator’s fearless (and generally put-upon) intern and world-renowned compiler of YouTube tributery, will be leaving us next week to go to Spain. Why she would ever want to leave the joys of blogging, with its skeezy virtual MTV flophouses and its sex-crazed Jonas Brothers fans clawing at your pantlegs and its eating cold pizza at 10:30 a.m. while unbathed and watching E.R. reruns*, is really beyond us. But in lieu of chasing after the steamer ship as it leaves port, we present just a few of Kate’s greatest hits in tribute to the woman who made our lives much easier in exchange for corrupting her brain with music industry-related shenanigans.
Hello, and welcome to Guest Edit II: Revenge of the Intern. I’m Kate Richardson and I’ll be filling in for the boss lady today. I know that you have a Maura-shaped hole in your heart right now, but I’m here for you during this time of trial, and I’ve brought YouTube clips! (As usual.) Last time I guest-edited the servers defected in protest, but I’m hoping today I can keep them happy. Most of my vital information can be found in that original intro, but I thought I’d take this opportunity to explain myself a little bit further with a clip of some music from my homeland:
Oh, hi! I’m Kate “The Intern” Richardson. For one day, and one day only, Maura and Jess have let me out of the tiny, dark room where I watch tribute videos and troll MTV’s virtual worlds. First I must say what an honor it is to be guest-editing. This site is just as much fun to work for as you could ever imagine in your wildest Internet-themed dreams. Some of you may be wondering exactly what it’s like around here behind the scenes.