SO perfect it’s hard to believe it’s true. But see the above photo for proof. According to their Twitter, indie rockers Here We Go Magic were on the road, decided to pick up a hitchhiker, and that hitchhiker turned out to be legendary screwball filmmaker John Waters.

Now, if you don’t know John Waters, you must. He’s the Baltimore man who brought us such gems as Hairspray (1988), Mondo Trasho (1968) and Serial Mom (1994). He’s a true cult legend and a fine raconteur to boot.

In this interview, Waters says he’s partial to hitchhiking as a means of making friends and, well, having sex. Not sure whether he managed to cop off with any of the dudes in Here We Go Magic, but, over to the band’s Michael Bloch to tell you this lovely tale, via Pitchfork:

“There’s a hydro-fracking boom in western Pennsylvania. You can’t get a motel room. We had to drive til 4AM, and finally found a Days Inn in eastern Ohio. Getting back on the highway this morning, there was a man at the side of the on-ramp with a sign that read ‘to the end of Rte 70′. Jen [Turner, bassist] wanted to pick him up, but we drove past him. As we passed by, our sound guy said. ‘John Waters’. Luke said, ‘Yep, definitely John Waters.’ We got off at the next exit and circled back. He was still there. We pulled up, opened the door and asked where he was coming from. ‘Baltimore,’ he said. And we said ‘Get in, sir.’”

The band also tweeted: “What an utter gentleman, as natural and observant of people as one might imagine. A total joy, full of stories. Thanks JW, be safe out there.”

A PAIR of brand new PJ Harvey tracks will appear in a new documentary film called What Is This Film Called Love?.

‘Horse’ and ‘Bobby Don’t Steal’ will feature alongside Harvey’s 1995 track ‘To Bring You My Love’ in the film, which is directed by Mark Cousins and is described, somewhat bizarrely, as “a poetic documentary about the nature of happiness”, which starts out as a film about Battleship Potemkin director Sergei Eisenstein before moving into more expansive territory over the course of a 77-minute running time.

Cousins’ film, which is said to be influenced by artists like Chris Marker, Virginia Woolf and Frank O’Hara, will be previewed at ATP’s I’ll Be Your Mirror show on May 27.

Despite all the bad omens — its location in the hinterland between the anonymous financial sector and Shoreditch — XOYO is shaping up to be a respected part of London gig-going experience. It has enjoyed recent visits from Rinse.FM, Grimes and Lil B and, at under a tenner in, Friday’s Planet Mu showcase down in its basement wasn’t a bad way to stumble into the weekend.

Planet Mu has been delighting the more open-minded/THC-affected music fan for years, and these days it is arguably in the rudest health of its 17-year existence. Most recently it has become a key influence on the spread of footwork in the UK, through its Bangs And Works comps and releases by key artists such as Traxman. But the ‘Mu shtick goes deeper than genre. A cursory look at the label’s releases this year (taking in Ital and The Host’s internet-fixated albums, the latter playing tonight) you notice a pattern of music that is slow yet rushing, emotive yet detached; of probing, explorative sonic dispatches that chime with today’s world in a way that seems uncanny.

First up is Tropics, who starts things off in a mellow way — perhaps too mellow. My friend suggests what Planet Mu’s very own sun-kissed lounge act is serving up in front of us might be best suited to soundtracking a family-friendly wildlife documentary, perhaps, or during the more intense moments in the set, the admittedly informative series about the UK shoreline, Coast. I’d have to agree. Next up, Rudi Zygadlo is dressed in Keef Richards-style headgear and brandishing a guitar, playing a noodling, psychedelic fusion of styles. There are a lot of guitar solos, which consume the off-key beats and pop sensibility after a while — but it’s an intriguing set all the same, if only because it doesn’t leave you all that clear about what to make of it.

The XOYO basement seems to intensify sound, stripping away subtlety, which matches tonight’s vibe of amphetamine vs beer restlessness and queuing for smokes. The Host plays a far less contemplative set than his recent eponymous album, chucking in a few jungle bangers before what many have deemed tonight’s main attraction, Kuedo, takes to the stage.

There has been much talk of what to call Kuedo’s brand of post-dubstep-that-sounds-like-Vangelis’s-Blade-Runner-soundtrack-with-bits-of-footwork-in-it, with many plumping for ‘retro-futurism’. But this tag doesn’t capture the intensity of the music, particularly in a live setting. College-age kids dance out glorious dystopia, falling into veteran ‘Mu regulars as The Artist Formerly Known as Vex’d drops overdriven and alive versions of tracks from last year’s critical shoo-in, Severant. Somewhere along the line, dub reggae sample segue in as a welcome reminder of this music’s roots, however far away they may seem right now.

Behind his laptop, Kuedo aka Jamie Teasdale minces heroically in front of John Martin-esque images and ice-white geometric lines. Like the aforementioned 19th century painter, it’s as portentous as all hell, but thrilling at the same time. All that’s left is to zone out to the pleasing malevolence of Machinedrum, before the night bus home and the onset of tinnitus.

A new single from two-piece garage rock band JEFF the Brotherhood has been made available. ‘Sixpack’ comes from their upcoming EP, ‘Hypnotic Knights’, produced by Black Key Dan Auerbach. The EP’s out May 18.

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SCARLETT Johansson hits out at ‘toilet paper rag’ tabloids in a new essay criticising media stories about her weight in the new Avengers film.

The actress and occasional musician wrote a lengthy piece for The Huffington Post, spurred on by fictitious reports in the press about how she got into “superhero shape” for the role.

“Claims have been made that I’ve been on a strict workout routine regulated by co-stars,” she writes, “whipped into shape by trainers I’ve never met, eating sprouted grains I can’t pronounce and ultimately losing 14 pounds off my 5’3″ frame.”

Adding, “If I were to lose 14 pounds, I’d have to part with both arms. And a foot,” Johansson goes onto express frustration at the “irresponsibility of tabloid media”.

“Every time I pass a newsstand, the bold yellow font of tabloid and lifestyle magazines scream out at me: ‘Look Who’s Lost It!’ ‘They Were Fabby and Now They’re Flabby!’ ‘They Were Flabby and Now They’re Flat!’”

“We’re all aware of the sagas these glossies create: ‘Look Who’s Still A Sea Cow After Giving Birth to Twins!’ Or the equally perverse: ‘Slammin’ Post Baby Beach Bodies Just Four Days After Crowning!’”

While Johansson’s sentiments aren’t exactly new, it’s refreshing to hear them laid out in measured fashion by a Hollywood A-lister:

“How are we supposed to view articles highlighting celebrity cellulite and not sulk in the mirror, imagining a big red arrow pointing to various parts of our bodies?”

SINGER Nancy Sinatra has launched a Twitter tirade at her stepmum for keeping her from her father’s deathbed.

Nancy took to the social networking site on the anniversary of her dad Frank Sinatra’s death this Monday (May 14) to lash out at his widow, Barbara, who she describes as “evil personified”.

In a series of posts, Nancy writes: “14 years ago today my father died and I was not given the chance to say goodbye. I will never forgive her for that. Never… Karma is too good for her… Did then and continues to hurt us today. A horrible human being.

“He asked, ‘Where are my children?’ and his children didn’t know (he was dying). She is evil personified. (I wasn’t allowed to visit) because then obits couldn’t say, ‘He died with his wife by his side.’”

When asked by one of her followers if her dad would want her to still be angry with Barbara, Nancy tweeted back: “Believe me, he would understand this.”

The ‘My Way’ singer died of a heart attack in 1998, aged 82.

CAN emo make you blind? No — but it can give you a lazy eye, if a damning new report in the Australian Telegraph is to be believed.

The problem for fans of the much-derided genre comes when they choose to sport the kind of lop-sided fringes modelled by the likes of Jared Leto and Justin Bieber (emo allegiances unknown).

This can lead to problems with eyesight, argues leading optometrist Andrew Hogan: “If a young emo chap has a fringe covering one eye all the time, that eye won’t see a lot of detail,” he said.

“And if it happens from a young age, that eye can become amblyotic [lazy].”

As if that wasn’t heartache enough for the already-suffering emos, ‘veteran hairdresser’ Roseanne Anderson also warns that the haircut could wind up giving you a stiff neck.

“I have to wonder how they don’t get a stiff neck,” says Anderson.

“I have seen lots of fashions come and go — but really when I think about it, this is probably the only hairstyle in my 40 years of hairdressing that could be a health hazard.”

Perhaps over time the emos’ second eye will wither away entirely, transforming them into a race of constitutionally morbid cyclopes. Anderson declined to comment.

Jay-Z has backed President Obama’s recent comments in support of gay marriage in the US, adding that not allowing same sex couples to wed was “no different than discriminating against blacks”.

The Blueprint rapper — whose praises were recently sung by the US President — said Obama’s endorsement was the “right thing to do as a human being”, irrespective of how it might impact his performance in the forthcoming elections.

“I’ve always thought it was something that was still holding the country back,” said Jay. “What people do in their own homes is their business and you can choose to love whoever you love. That’s their business. It’s no different than discriminating against blacks. It’s discrimination — plain and simple.”

On the wisdom of Obama making his comments before the election, he said: “It’s really not about votes. It’s about people. Whether it costs him votes or not, it’s the right thing to do as a human being.”

Ah, bless you kind sir! Any other world ills we can get Jay-Z to solve while we’ve got him on the line? Oh that’s right, the US recession:

“You know, for a long time, you know, we had it pretty good in America. We were floating on this high. Well, we were hiding some of the troubles that we were going through. So, I just see this as a test of our character. I think we’ll get there and will test the resolve of Americans. Just to remind us that we have that fight. We haven’t had such a fight since the Great Depression.”

If last year’s excellent Past Life Martyred Saints portrayed South Dakota’s Ericka M Anderson as some sort of trash-mouthed, insolent offspring of Patti Smith, then her voyage to these shores revealed an image rather more at odds with the carnal dirge and snot-nosed bite that marked out her solo debut. Anderson cut a slightly reserved figure last Autumn in this same city — though not without confidence — peering out safely from under her blonde fringe, content to stand in line both visually and sonically with her group; she looked and sounded a little more pristine that we might’ve expected.

Time spent toiling on the road will darken even the purest of souls, however, and tonight EMA pores forth with aggression, her band whipping up a Velvet Underground-esque drone whilst she stalks the front of the stage, hair now dyed black, eyes flickering with a sullen menace. They open with her former group Gowns’ ‘Fargo’, a sepia vision of drug-fuelled transcendence amidst moth-eaten surroundings, and in this opening monologue you get a glimpse of the Anderson’s gutter-and-stars perception as she paints the extraordinary on the ordinary.

But as the set goes on her actions become larger than the songs she’s performing: both the tracks from her LP and the couple of new ones on offer tonight are wonderful in the way they teeter just about the right side of losing structure, seemingly organic in which direction they choose to take. Anderson’s emergence as definite front woman, though – and the contrived rock shapes consequently pulled  – means that aesthetically she’s always at full volume, oblivious to the controlled squall that violinist, guitarist and drummer are directing behind her.

It’s odd: this is kind of what we’d hoped for — the way she pouts and barks through ‘Butterfly Knife’; how she at one point responds to someone in the audience reaching for her by grabbing his hair; how she strides atop the front stage monitors as though a preacher to her congregation — yet, when it comes, it’s her band who end up impressing more, and beyond EMA’s posturing it’s the dust-shaking crescendos of those standing behind her that truly leave their mark — best evidenced by Gowns’ track ‘Cherrylee’, played solo, proving to be one of the weaker performances of the evening. The group finally feel as one on ‘California’, riding together on the crest of the coda’s tidal guitars, but it’s one of the few moments in which they do during a slightly disjointed evening.