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YOUR PARTY RECAP, BROUGHT TO YOU BY
A HITS MILLENNIAL (AND DEL TACO)

If you’re like me, the post-Grammys Aspirin is just starting to kick in. And you’ve finally gotten the taste of back-to-back, 2am Del Taco trips out of your mouth. (Yes, I went Saturday and Sunday; judge me, I dare you.) Now, as I sip my overpriced green juice and prepare for spin classes, with which I will attempt to sweat out whatever sin is left in my body, I find myself reminiscing on this year’s shindigs.

My 2019 schedule kicked off with Motown’s jam-packed showcase at the Peppermint Club, where new talents Jordan Hollywood, NJOMZA, James Davis and City Girls lit the place up and got Grammy week started on a high note. Shoutout to Ethiopia Habtemariam, who seriously knows what’s up.

On Wednesday, I spent the night face-masking, nail-painting, hair-plucking and leg-shaving. I know, I know; it’s hard work, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Thursday was devoted to Spotify’s Best New Artist fête—a real weasel fest, right down to the 40 one-minute conversations I had with the sides of faces that were too busy looking over my shoulder (in an attempt to locate their next victim) to actually form a compelling sentence. Those who haven’t become completely jaded yet will agree that being at this party felt like a real honor. However, music serving as second fiddle to schmoozing at an event both presented by a streaming platform and in honor of the best new artists? Pretty disheartening. I was there for nearly three hours and only got to the third of six performances. These sets were three-songs long, so what gives? The changeovers need to go down lickity split. And more focus needs to be put on the music. Thank u, next.

On Friday, I stopped by Beats 1 studios for their “happy hour hang,” partially because I’m incapable of turning down any reason to chow down on some Jon & Vinny’s White Lightning. Melted cheese aside, though, these were stellar, artist-friendly vibes. That evening included stops at gatherings hosted by Warner Bros., Interscope and Def Jam. Yes, I went from Culver City to Downtown, only to go back to Culver City, before hitting West Hollywood and then returning my Silverlake home. (Why I haven’t started expensing therapy sessions is beyond me.) Taking tequila shots with Dan + Shay definitely served as a highlight. Props to WBR’s Corson, Bay-Shuck and Chester for throwing something that was both classy and low-key enough for my soul to remain intact. Radio peeps were out in force here, too. Like Motown, Interscope took advantage of everyone who’s anyone being in town to showcase new talent; Summer Walker, Amber Mark, and Mereba made up Friday’s bill. Everyone delivered. Personal opinion: Amber Mark is a goddess. And y’all know you can leave it to Def Jam to bring the RAGER. The line was around the block when I arrived at Catch around 9:15, and the fire marshal was already pacing up and down Melrose.

Saturday highlights included the Island house party. Nestled amongst Beverly Hills’ Trousdale Estates, guests got to enjoy one hell of a view—yes, of Shawn Mendes, but also of L.A.’s extra-posh neighborhood. Being here made me feel chicer than my Covergirl lip-gloss let on. And Darcus, I’m still envious of your dashing Tom Ford frames.

Federspiel, Lehman, Taubenfeld and Petel

This leads us to 100 Under 100, potentially my personal favorite. “I was left feeling like shit as usual, after reading all of the ‘Power 100/40 Under 40/You’re Not As Successful As We Are’ lists,” says Evan Taubenfeld, who founded the event a few years back, alongside Mollie Lehman, Dan Petel and Greg Federspiel. “So I decided we should start our own party where everyone gets a trophy. We’d invite all the young up-and-coming creatives, writers, producers, artists and executives who will eventually be the bosses. The concept was to never take it seriously, to purposefully be very inclusive (we rotate hosts every single year). The main goal is to have fun, laugh at ourselves and celebrate how lucky we are to be in such a ridiculous business… It’s always been really, really easy to curate the vibe. If you’re the kind of person who goes to Clive this probably isn't your kind of party.” Evan, you had me at “feeling like shit as usual,” and your turnout was beyond impressive.


At this point, I’d hit my chit-chat quota, so I filled my break from talking with good ol’ fashioned rocking. Gotta thank Muse, The Palladium and Citi, which puts on these super-cool underplays. (P!nk and Chris Stapleton were also booked for the weekend.)

On Sunday, I watched the big show in sweat pants and a flannel while eating Pizzeria Mozza takeout. (That whole “green juice and spin class thing” starting to make sense yet?) But by 8:30pm, I was all dolled up in my best faux fur. First stop: UMG. Lucian’s bash was incredibly well-executed. With plenty of room to mingle and background music kept at a tolerable level, the Downtown warehouse, was hip, glam and comfortable all at once. An extremely “heavy” room and Ray-ban party favors didn’t hurt either. That said, if Def Jam provided Friday’s tastemaker haven, there’s no question; Republic had Sunday night on lock. But are you really surprised? Republic knows how to party, and that might be the understatement of the year, folks. This was VVIP central, so naturally, my social anxiety was put to the test in the best way possible.

Speaking of social anxiety, I’m going to go back to hanging out with my cats, Taco and Husky. Call me when it’s Coachella time.

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Hip-hop is no longer hibernating. (3/28a)
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THE NEW HUGE COUNTRY ACT
No, not that one.
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Now 100% unlicensed!
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