Avril Lavigne at Webster Hall, New York, NY

I have an unashamed love of Avril Lavigne. She might not think she's punk, but I do. We have lots in common: we're both small-town girls who grew up tomboys and didn't know what the heck "punk rock" was only to discover later that the only thing you need to know is that you want to do something different and loud. And then revel in the fact that you'll piss off some tight-assed adults along the way. We're plenty different, too. I haven't sold 14 million albums worldwide. I don't have a militia of young girls screaming my name. (#&*$^#*&$^) And AOL doesn't stream my live show across the Internet so my bajillions of fans can watch me rock out.

At least I was invited to see Avril play Webster Hall on May 24 for some special AOL show. She was promoting her new album, Under My Skin, which is chock full of songs about breakup with boys who didn't respect her and weren't what she thought they were. She's not crying in her cereal, but doesn't get why it couldn't work out. (For a complete review of Under My Skin, please consult the lovely Spyder Darling.)

My co-hort and I sauntered up the stairs and were met with what could have been the playground of a middle school. Well, almost. Enthusiastic young boys and girls, moms and dads, and notorious industry heads milled around.

"I heard Avril is dating Derek from Sum 41," announced my co-hort. "Really? He dated Paris Hilton," said I. Co-hort looks at me: "Dude, everyone's dated Paris Hilton." True. (Note to Paris: I'm still waiting my turn.)

(Addendum: Eh, on second thought. I'll pass.)

The house lights went down and Avril's band of good-looking young guys came out and put on their instruments. Crowd shrieks. Avril appeared shortly after. Her hair was wavy, kinda big, and too reminiscent of Shakira's for me to ignore. The pre-pubescent crowd went ape-poop.

One little girl was standing next to me. She couldn't have been older than five. She made her mother hold her through the entire concert. When her father offered to hold her to give mom a break, the little girl shouted, "NO WAY." She wanted her mom to hold her and rock out with her. As if things couldn't get cuter, she took her little fingers on both hands and made the devil horns with them. She proceeded to pump them into the air, mimicking all the kids she sees around her. She knew exactly what it meant without anyone explaining it to her, you know? Basically, it was THE CUTEST MOST ROCK-N-FUCKIN-ROLL THING EVER. Me, the softee, looked at her, made the devil sign, smiled, and nodded my approval. She smiled back and held up her hands again. Seriously, it was one of the greatest moments at a concert in my entire life. And it had nothing to do with the band.

But Avril didn't let us down. Her new songs are far from being the cutie-patootie pop-rock songs on Let Go. These new songs rock. The girl likes it loud. The softest moment of the evening came when she played her hit song "I'm With You." All the kids sang the chorus like it was some kind of school recital. At the end of the song, Avril looked out at the crowd and smiled. "And that's why I do what I do." Same here.

The Shocker at the Knitting Factory Tap Bar, New York, NY

L7 is one of my favorite bands of all time. Bitch-rock empress Jennifer Precious Finch was my favorite member, and not just because she was the cutest. So it was with utmost delight that I discovered her ass-kicking band, the Shocker. Almost a year after releasing their album Up Your Ass Tray, the band finally made their way from L.A. to NYC on June 27, 2004. (No, really, take your time. It's not like we're drowning in hipster rock and new wave revival bands or anything.)

Taking the stage with her very-young-looking bandmates, Finch busted out snarling rock songs that are highly conducive to trouncing. Proof came in the form of a handful of guys who hopped up and down, shouting the lyrics, and throwing the Shocker sign in the air.

"I think that guy is giving her the finger," a friend said. I explained he was doing the Shocker. "What?" Aaaaand that's when the real fun started. I had to somehow tastefully explain to me dear, sweet little friend what the Shocker was. So I arranged my fingers and stared at her crotch. It didn't work. So I stuck up my index finger: "the teaser." Then my middle finger: "the pleaser." Then my pinky: "the Shocker." "You stick the teaser and the pleaser in the first hole and the Shocker gets the backdoor... that's why it's 'the Shocker.'" Whew. That wasn't too awkward.

Right, so, J. Finch rocks. She's an incredible front woman, and thank the freakin' God someone still headbangs when they play guitar. The only other person I can say that about is Gina from Bantam... another bitch-rock alumni. As a closer, the Shocker played an L7 classic, "Everglade," and I'm pretty sure two drops of pee leaked out of me. Bend over, Cassanova, the Shocker is coming to getcha.

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