By Julie Klausner
within the culture of Cynthia Heimel and Chelsea Handler, and with the boisterous iconoclasm of Amy Sedaris, Julie Klausner's candid and humorous debut I Don't Care approximately Your Band sheds mild at the humiliations we undergo to discover love--and the teachings that may be culled from the wreckage.
I Don't Care approximately Your Band posits that in recent times the worst men so far are those who look delicate. It's the jerks in great man garments, no longer the gamers in Ed Hardy, who holiday the hearts of contemporary women who grew up within the shadow of feminism, considering they can have every little thing, yet turn out compromising regularly. The cowards, the kidults, the critics, and the contenders: those are the celebrities of Klausner's memoir approximately how tough it really is to discover a man--good or otherwise--when you're a cynical grown-up exiled within the dregs of Guyville.
Off the recognition of her New York Times "Modern Love" piece approximately getting the brush-off from an indie rock musician, I Don't care approximately Your Band is marbled with the wry traces of Julie Klausner's precocious curmudgeonry and brimming with truths that any one who's ever been on a date will relate to. Klausner is knowledgeable at touchdown herself waist-deep in loopy, time and time back, partly simply because her adventure as a comedy author (Best Week Ever, television Funhouse on SNL) and caricature comic from NYC's Upright voters Brigade fuels her philosophy of the way any scene should still spread, that's, "What? That sounds loopy? ok, I'll do it."
I Don't Care approximately Your Band charts a quite human trip of a strong-willed yet weak protagonist who loves males like it's her activity, yet who's performed with men who recognize extra approximately love songs than love. Klausner's is a brand new outlook on courting in a time of popular culture obsession, and he or she spent her 20's doing own box learn to again up her philosophies. this is often the girl's model of High Fidelity. via turns specific, humorous and relocating, Klausner's debut indicates the evolution of a tender lady who persevered myriad encounters with the inaccurate men, to emerge with actual- international knowledge on concerns of the center. I Don't Care approximately Your Band is Julie Klausner's manifesto, and each one among us can relate.
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Extra info for I Don't Care About Your Band: What I Learned from Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, and Other Guys I've Dated
Sundry dumb fantasies approximately being onstage suchly pranced approximately my noggin with cartoonish frequency round that point, fueling my case for a protracted automobile journey as much as Yorktown, which I laid out element by means of element in efforts to persuade my mom and dad to haul me upstate to the audition. They did, and whereas I speed-belted the 1st bars of “Tomorrow” in a lineup of 5 different third-graders, my mom made small speak with the opposite young ones’ degree moms. My mother used to be regularly encouraging, yet she used to be no Mama Rose: the belief of time wasted at advertisement auditions or school thrown at performing colleges that gave out homework assignments like “go to the zoo and detect an animal” was once dismissible through her as whatever performed for children who aren’t extraordinarily vivid. I, thrillingly, made the lower at around one of many tryouts, so in among that first evening and 3 days later, while my dad drove me to my callback, I’d already counted, battered, and deep-fried all attainable chickens. I’d written my bio for this system, which made beneficiant hire of the words “auburn songstress” and “unwavering gratitude,” advised off my enemies in my hypothetical Tony Award recognition speech (“Who’s a fats retard now? ”), and practiced signing autographs in a level identify I’d chosen—“Kitty Clay”—that used to be greater suited for a Nineteen Fifties personality actress who in simple terms performed prostitutes. I had set myself up for a powerful descent. My father, atonally buzzing alongside to “Up at the Roof” on one hundred and one. 1 CBS-FM, was once privately chuffed I hadn’t made the lower. no longer simply because he didn’t motivate my performative instincts: in truth, “supportive” was once a tepid modifier for the type of delight my father took in gazing me onstage. He enjoyed gazing me captivate and made yes I knew i used to be star-stuff, and used to be continuously entrance row heart in any respect of my institution performances, prepared with flora and compliment, even after the doozies. Like while the accompanist on the Y disclosed, on the final minute, that she didn't have the sheet song to Gypsy, and that i opted over “a cappella” and “not in any respect” to offer a fully-committed functionality of “Rose’s flip” alongside to a cassette of the ranking from the creation starring Tyne Daly, entire with Claudia Teitelbaum supplying the off-stage “Yeah! ” in among “You love it? ” and “Well, I bought it,” which, from an eight-year-old lady, is technically functionality paintings. No, my dad used to be simply relieved that I didn’t get the half simply because now he was once off the hook within the chauffeur division. It was once an hour-and-a-half shuttle from side to side from Scarsdale to Yorktown Heights, the place rehearsals have been held, and if I’d been solid as Annie, or perhaps one in every of her ragtag orphan chums—a demotive risk that hadn’t even darkened the entrance of my ego-addled younger mind—he might have needed to force me from side to side 5 days per week or probability breaking my middle by means of telling me no. And the sound of that notice used to be continually jarring coming from his lips, no matter if it referenced a 3rd cookie or the actualization of a grandiose fable. My mom advised me weeks later, as soon as I’d calmed down, that they wouldn’t have pushed me to rehearsals if I’d made it, yet took the “We’ll go that bridge!