Quick! Let's Make Love Before We Die.

Join the car crash set.

No, I'm not going to make love to you all, despite the fact I know you all refresh this page daily hoping for such salacious hand outs. No, this post is about music. The other thing you wonder about when you come check in on me. (Didn't you join a band, Miss Clover? Weren't you all beside yourself in excitement and going to rehearsals and tambourine wenching all over town like some percussive floozy?) Yes, yes, yes! I was!

But what I haven't mentioned, partially because I've been busy with mold and moving and whatevertheblah, but partially because I'm in denial and terribly hurt (truly deeply hurt) is that Moxers, my beautiful, whip smart partner in a gazillion projects, is gone. She up and fell in love and went to London without even saying good-bye. The nerve! I got a vague email about two weeks before she dipped that was all, sometime soon....blah...want to sort of see you...busy...blah. This was a girl I spent every day with, working on writing, singing, money making, gossiping, pizza eating. Everything.

And then she fell in love. Who does this? Certainly not me.

So I don't like to talk about it, but I've been in music withdrawal. Sad musical times in Camp clover.

Luckily though, through her, about two months ago, I met the fantastically fun and stupidly talented Kii Arens.

Kii makes things tasty and delicious.

Kii makes art, music and magic. Last week he emailed me about doing a photo shoot for a project he's doing and I was delighted to work with him. But what I didn't know was that he is the musical end to my sleepless nights. He makes rawkin beats and dope lyrics. We discovered we wanna sing together and dance and play instruments and make videos. And it assuages my abandonment issues since Moxy is the one that introduced us. I feel no qualms about taking him for myself.

This afternoon in a passionate conversation about disco and Judas Priest and Prince and soft core porn music videos, I burst out with one of my musical inspirations, Grace Jones. I was honestly surprised she tumbled out of my mouth. But I guess it's inevitable. When it comes to my favorite music I listen to I would gush about Neutral Milk Hotel or Blur, but when it comes to who I want to sound like with my own music: Effing Grace Jones, bitches. I can't help it. I spent my formative years in a metropolitan suburb and Williamsburg circa 2002. I like pop aesthetics with electro fag beats. I like that Grace is equal parts supermodel recognition and downtown NYC electroclash sound.

Here is my favorite Grace Jones moment, her cover of The Normal's "Warm Leatherette". Now everyone from Trent Reznor to Duran Duran has covered this track, but Grace does it best. Hands down. The sultry bass line. The deadpan vocals. Her snarly "leatherette". Of course her sleek androgyny. And the double symbol arm crash? I could only dream of such coolness. I'll settle for introducing her coolness to others.