L.A. RECORD & Converse Present: The China Invasion Tour
P.K.14, Carsick Cars, AV Okubo
China Night @ the Viper Room
8852 W. Sunset Blvd
April 7th
9:00pm

Follow @freelarecord for your chance to win free tickets plus more!!

Facebook Event Link

http://larecord.com
http://viperroom.com

Finally, after waiting almost an hour for Happy Hollows to set up, they hit the stage with a bang.  Beautiful Sarah Negahdari was all smiles and giggles as she stood at the mic and began playing their first song.  She emoted so much energy on the small Viper Room stage that it poured out onto the crowd and made the happy music even more of a jovial experience.  Throughout the entire show, Sarah never showed a sign of tiring, throwing her head up and down, bouncing and jumping around the stage.  Charlie and Chris possessed their own endless amounts of energy—not once did any of the three ever stop playing music to drink water, stall to relax or maybe even breathe.  To be honest, it is hard to focus on all the logistics and technicalities of the music because watching the band play is so enamoring.  The three bandmates stand in their individual space but flow together like a school of fish.  Each of the band members possess an acute understanding of their own instruments and each other that gives them the ability to pick up on each player’s energy and use that to strengthen the music.   I suppose that is what being a good musician and playing over a hundred shows does for a band.

Standing tall, Sarah emitted the Happy Hollows’ natural Silverlake / Echo Park vibe onto the Hollywood crowd in her striped cardigan and short black shorts.  “It means so much to us to come out to the Westside and see so many of you guys!” Sarah giggled.  She continued to verbally realize how close Hollywood actually is but how far away it feels.  Happy Hollows continued their set with yet another song for Sarah to exhibit her guitar skills and shred unlike anyone would expect.  Their second song was fast paced and energizing, getting the crowd just as worked up as the sweat flying off of Charlie’s forehead.  Sarah’s voice dipped to low lows and shreaky highs to match the melodic guitar and bass riffs and—Sorry, I completely just lost all focus on Happy Hollows because this enormous inebriated man has decided to play his drunken, erotic air guitar right in front of me.  And he is staring at me dead in the eyes. Still going, apparently this endless Happy Hollows energy is contagious.  Ah, finally he has exhausted himself and Happy Hollows moves on to their next song, which further exemplifies how Sarah’s energy commands how the song comes off to her crowd.  Their third song was darker than the first two and Sarah’s energy was there to match—the whimsical bouncing was replaced by more fixated stares as the music became more straight-lined.

Live, Happy Hollows resembles listening to their record—very acute and strong.  Nothing ever lingers, not even the ring of the cymbals.  They ensure keeping every note tight and finishing every song abruptly.  Their ability to essentially marathon-play leaves a stronger, unexpected impression.  They also manage to incorporate an instrumental breakdown in almost every song, and an awesome one at that, making all three of them much more reputable musicians.  By their sixth song, Sarah was on the floor spinning with her guitar and their seventh song switched the set up by having Charlie sing while Sarah clapped and made hand jives inspired by the lyrics.  Their back-to-back playing made the friendly relationship between Sarah and Charlie even more believable and the strobe lights increased the exciting effect of all their movement and the anything-but-monotonous music.  The ninth song had so many varying riffs that ADD and boredom couldn’t stand a chance and Sarah continually gave the music the personality it is meant to have through her spontaneous screams, impromptu dancing and the occasional putting her guitar on her head and wandering the stage.  Watching Sarah makes the music even more redeeming than simply listening to the record—she is funny to watch and reminds me of a happy child.

Their twelfth song further proved the true talent of the group through the fast paced playing and real test of how quick their fingers could move.  They easily aced the test and looked good doing it—There is rarely a stoic, thinking look. Instead, their faces are painted with big smiles and it seems impossible for the band to boringly stand still.

For a snippet what their live show looks like, don’t forget to check out their Samsung commercial!

—Britt Witt

Below you will find a list of venues in Los Angeles and surrounding communities. If we have overlooked a venue please leave it in the comments field and we will add it to our list.

The Echo
1822 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026-3227
(213) 413-8200
www.attheecho.com

The Echoplex
1154 Glendale Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026
(213) 413-8200
www.attheecho.com

Spaceland
1717 Silver Lake Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026-1221
(323) 661-4380
www.clubspaceland.com

The Music Box at Fonda
6126 Hollywood Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90028
(323) 464-0808
www.henryfondatheater.com

Hollywood Palladium
6215 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90028
(323) 962-7600

Airliner Club
2419 N Broadway
Los Angeles, CA 90031-2218
(323) 221-0771

The Smell
Neighborhood: Downtown
247 S Main St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
www.thesmell.org

Downtown Independent
251 S Main St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 617-1033
www.downtownindependent.com

L’Keg
311 Glendale Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026
(213) 413-5534
www.lkeggallery.com

Walt Disney Concert Hall
111 S Grand Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90012-3034
(213) 972-7211
www.disneyhall.org

Echo Curio
1519 Sunset Blvd
Echo Park, CA 90026
www.echocurio.com

El Rey Theatre
5515 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 936-6400
www.theelrey.com

Club Nokia
800 West Olympic Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90015
(213) 765-7000
www.clubnokia.com

Mr. T’s Bowl
5621 N Figueroa St
Highland Park, CA
http://mrtsbowl.tripod.com/
Converted bowling alley night spot with great sound in Highland Park.

Pehrspace
325 Glendale Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026
(323) 483-7374
www.pehrspace.org

Tribal Cafe
1651 W Temple St
Los Angeles, CA 90026-5026
(213) 483-4458
www.tribalcafe.com

Synchronicity Space
306 Melrose Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90029
(323) 284-8960
www.syncspacela.com

Coma Alternative Space
3503 W. Pico Blvd
Los Angeles, CA, 90019
myspace.com/comaalternativespace

HM 157
3110 N. Broadway
Los Angeles, CA 90031

Hotel Cafe
1623 1/2 N Cahuenga Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90028-6201
(323) 461-2040
www.hotelcafe.com

Silverlake Lounge
2906 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026-2128
(323) 663-9636
www.foldsilverlake.com

Troubadour
9081 Santa Monica Blvd
West Hollywood, CA 90069
(310) 276-6168
www.troubadour.com

Viper Room
8852 W Sunset Blvd
West Hollywood, CA 90069-2108
www.viperroom.com

Bordello Bar
901 E. 1st St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 687-3766
www.bordellobar.com
(310) 652-7869

When The Plasticines took the stage for their set as the opening act at The Viper Room on Friday night, you could almost hear the tongues of every gentleman, or at least those brought up on dirty movies and rock and roll, hit the floor. The three girls standing above them—and the fourth seated at the drum kit—were the epitome of three irresistible things: they were pretty, talented, and very, very young. Born and Raised in Paris, The Plasticines played their only Los Angeles show that night, and although at times the stage seemed far too small (and the venue a little too empty) for their well-rehearsed, showy set, they certainly brought a little bit of, you know, je ne sais quoi, to the Strip.  I watched from the sidelines, both baffled and entranced by the many contradictions at play in front of me. While the songs they played were seamless, mature pop numbers with just the right amount of verse-chorus-verse, the coltish exuberance of the girls’ performance made it seem like they were doing this for the first time (in a good way).  This push-and-pull between been-around-the-block maturity and youthful abandon made it almost impossible to stop watching them. The Plasticines’ lead singer, with her hair in a bright blonde Barbarella bouffant, went from slapping a tambourine listlessly to tipping back a Budweiser and shouting at the audience in a thick French accent, her sequins almost seeming to drip off of her thin frame. It made me think of the riot grrl declaration “Revolution Grrl Style Now!” and about how this was all grrl style without any of the revolution. Perfectly polished, totally sexy, but not at all arch. Although I was desperately looking for something, anything, subversive about their cover of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots are Made for Walkin’,” I couldn’t find it, but I guess that’s not always what rock and roll is about. Sometimes, I guess, it’s important to have a little pop, to be polished, and to admit that a French accent and a school girl giggle really are incredibly freakin’ hot.

—Maud Deitch

Roach Coachella: Orders from the Fire Marshal sent the marathon Fauxchella festival packing from the announced Traction Ave. venue earlier in the week, but by showtime on Good Friday organizers had moved the event to gamier precincts many blocks away. Hangar 1018 is beloved of the downtown party set and I know the space well, having wandered along its sketchy and verminous stretch of S. Santa Fe many times in various states of hallucinogenic inebriation. Inside, instead of the usual haul of faux-fur and near-naked ladies, were a couple hundred gamboling on the fragments of their Eastside Cool. I was waved past the door by promoters spoke cheerily of the ultraviolence they’d already visited upon everyone else inquiring after The List. They looked entirely too jocose to be joking. The hour was advanced and most of the 11 scheduled acts had already unplugged and went, but the overdriven squeal-pop of Myonics was letting rip from the graffiti-doused back patio. It was like Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist projected inside a 1960s beach party movie—a lighthearted frolic of the seriously geeky young, complete with spastic dancing and bashful romance. In the main room, Globes on Remote held forth in like caramel-coated Depeche Mode or a Huey Lewis in receipt of really bad News. Such sugary ferocity was just what the occasion called for and the Allah Las were pouring it at 1 a.m. as I made my slow fade to the door, their psilocybin surf music howling like bonfire night at Owlsley State Beach.

Doing the Devil: The normal crowd at the Silent Movie Theatre these days is the hipper sort of cineaste; stylish singles and couples lounging before crazed dada like Myra Breckinridge or Repo: The Genetic Opera in an air of abstracted contemplation. I too can be found there on occasion, usually sitting gimlet-eyed along the back wall as some 1970s Eastmancolor atrocity is exhumed. Even so, Easter Sunday’s screening of F.W. Murnau’s Faust was the first actual silent movie I’d ever sat through at this last shrine to their memory. Scoring was the Cabeza de Vaca Arcestra, an ad-hoc assemblage featuring art-punk chanteuse Nora Keyes and members of South Bay high-artisans dios (malos) chattering, clanking and gorgeously caterwauling over this haunting and hallucinatory masterpiece. This freehanded adaptation of Goethe’s deathless wrestle between God and Devil was Murnau’s bow at Weimar film giant Ufa before being lured out here, bringing Emil Jannings—his Mephistopheles—with him. Jannings went on to win the very first Oscar given for Best Actor before heading home to Germany to make propaganda films for Hitler. So, as Kurt Vonnegut used it say, it goes. Still, no Satanic dereliction can wipe away Murnau’s visionary claptrap nor the dainty pallor of Camilla Horn as Gretchen, a face credibly worth the protagonist’s immortal ectoplasm. The Arcestra’s deepspace introspections and bone-chilling harmonics gently took the film sideways, subtly shifting the impact from morality fable to pagan fantasia. Since culture endlessly recycles itself in hybrids like these, happy is the conclusion that silent cinema is yet another idea whose time has come.

Rubaceous: The adorable Ruby Friedman majorly rocked the Viper Room on Monday, beneficiary of a hard-driving new Orchestra, a bucket of sweat and a couple of choice Iggyisms. Jumping in her maryjanes and batting babydoll eyes at a thick crowd of old and new friends, she rocketed the boys through an abbreviated set with the punky brio of Texas Terri Laird or Brody Armstrong. I know she was mercurial, but this? In the sagacious words of Barry Fitzgerald in The Quiet Man, “That red hair of hers is no lie.”

This Column Brought to You By: The kind folks at Shout Factory, knowing of my taste for antiquaria, bunged along their new career survey, Action: The Sweet Anthology and I’ve played it relentlessly my every writing moment all weekend. These two discs balance the hits and near-hits from this U.K. benzedrine-bubblegum judiciously, the hi-octane fluff turned in by outside songwriters Chinn and Chapman along with edgier band-written tunes. You’re allowed one revelation per retrospective and this collection’s surprise is Disc 2’s “Funk It Up (David’s Song),” the adenoidal glamsters’ surprisingly juicy pass at mid-1970s P-Funk. That and the album version of “Love is Like Oxygen,” truly a thing of beauty and a proggy joy at 6:52. The Sweet appears at the H.O.B. on April 30 and I may just shoehorn in.

—Ron Garmon

Los Lobos / Blasters @ HOB Anaheim
Human Hands @ Smell
CRYSTAL CASTLES @ Viper Room

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2gdbQpESNY]

For more visual slime check out: larecord.com/photos

(from Milagrosa out now on Volcom)

Totimoshi / Nebula @ Viper Room
Eleni Mandell @ Tangier
Princeton @ Echo
Built To Spill / Quasi @ Troubadour

Xu Xu Fang squeezed their seven musicians onto the petite Viper Room stage on Monday night to celebrating the release of their awesome new The Mourning Son EP. Though the crowded stage left little room for movement, they filled the void with enough fog to cause a Grapevine pileup—it was beautifully gloomy noise. With three shoegaze guitars, a pounding rythym section, ethereal keyboards and the restrained vocals of singer Barbara Cohen, Xu Xu Fang have one of the more unique sounds in Los Angeles right now. They sounded great, but after listening to their CD, I feel that I probably didn’t see them at their best due to the cramped conditions. (It also doesn’t help that I quit smoking three days ago and forgot to wear my patch.) But I could tell that from the cluster of musicians behind Cohen—I didn’t even see the drummer until 30 minutes in—that I’ll need to see them on a bigger stage to truly experience the band. In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for listening to The Mourning Son with headphones on full blast, and looking forward to their upcoming club dates this summer.

—Scott Schultz

For more photos check out: larecord.com/photos

Imaad Wasif with Two Part Beast “Wanderlusting”

Imaad Wasif was once in Lowercase and Alaska! and now joins Bobb Bruno and Adam Garcia in Two Part Beast. Their album Strange Hexes is out now. Imaad speaks the night before starting his tour.

Who is Rolf Harris and how did his musical ideas shape your life?
Rolf Harris’ Sun Arise—that’s the first record I bought. I used to buy garage sale records when I was a kid. I bought a lot of stuff at garage sales. I may have had a nude photo of Marilyn Monroe, but it got confiscated. I bought a jewelry box and cut it open one day, and there was a black-and-white negative I was convinced was Marilyn Monroe. I’d shown it to my mother, and then it just disappeared. But Rolf—he’s an insane guy from Australia. Later I found out when I got that Alice Cooper record—there’s a version of his song! He’s just got a really demented sense of humor. In terms of lyrics—the record is definitely connected to like… the first time I ever heard anyone completely losing it. I don’t know how dark his actual life was—he could have been a really dark fucker but I don’t know!
Why are there no labels on the records your father gave you?
I have a box of records he gave me—all East Indian classical music I was hearing when I was growing up. When they left London, they took a ship and the records were ruined. They were waterlogged, and I guess the chest showed up and all the covers were ruined. I kind of pieced them together stylistically—I think I know who’s who.
Did you ever hear them in later life and realize who they were?
I feel like I hear that every day. I listen to those records a lot. Almost every morning. I learn different things from them as I listen at different times in my life. There was a sitar player Vilayat Khan—he’s actually dead now, but I recently saw a DVD of him playing and I had such an intense emotional experience. I was almost brought to tears but I wasfighting it off—it’s completely connected to my childhood.
What kind of music is the most reliable constant in your life?
Probably those drones. There’s that ongoing oceanic feel of music in my head a lot. In times of great focus, I feel like it shapes into something. But I mostly hear a lot of ocean in my head. And love is definitely something in my life that’s been thematically linked to every lyric I’ve written.
Have you ever been the victim of Stendhal syndrome?
Are you talking crystallization? I was reading his text On Love back in September, and he writes about the idea of crystallization, and the concept of love and how love starts to crystallize and how impassioned and fervent you become. And there’s a song I’d written two years ago that’s on the record—‘Cloudlines’—and it had imagery connected to that tradition. When I read it, I was completely amazed—I’d never read Stendhal before that! This real and strange understanding of love in that song, saying ‘You are so crystalline.’ But I’ve never heard of Stendhal syndrome.
It’s when you’re physically overcome by a work of art.
That’s the thing about music in general—if it doesn’t kind of wreck me with some intense rawenergy, then I can’t really listen to it.
What’s the most unexpected place you’ve found that?
When I was young, I lived out in the desert and there was some kind of oldies station, and one distinct memory I have—I had a really battered like Sears stereo, and I was really sick one night, and I’d woken up late from sleep and I had that radio on and I was throwing up, and that was the first time I heard ‘Sugar Mountain’ by Neil Young. I don’t even know why I was hearing it on the radio—I never heard it after that—and I remember hearing the static coming through and how forlorn and distant his voice sounded, and that really affected me. And not until years later did I hear Neil Young and put two things together. I equate a lot of feelings that I felt growing up to my memories of the desert—a lot of ideas of space that I think are now more consciously connected to my music. There’s a whole vastness, mostly in my memory.
How did your parents feel about living in Palm Desert after leaving India?
It’s pretty insane. I don’t think they were necessarily happy about it. My father in recent years has said he moved there because he wanted to be isolated. I don’t know a lot about my parents—they’re not very forthcoming with their history. But they broke the rules of secular marriage. They were pretty much run out of India, as far as I know. The environment growing up—my parents were both very artistic people. My father was a singer and artist and my mother was an artist. I really saw the passion eat them away. There was a great struggle and a great amount of discrimination against them, and they were not thriving artistically in the desert. I was aware of that being an extreme source of tension—seeing that sort of hopelessness come over somebody. I was kind of forced in a way to develop my own reality to live within—at times I become aware it’s a distortion that I live my life in, but at the same time, I can’t find any way out of it. The entire time I lived in the desert I felt completely like a misfit. There were a lot of issues there with being really young in school and not fitting in physically or racially or anything. It was always really strange. I’m now trying to stay away from my memories. I have very cloudy memories of my childhood. There’s a lot I blocked out. I’m living in the moment I’m living in now. If I do that, I can be free of the fear and the things that really haunt me.
You said you wrote your first record to destroy depression within yourself—what were you thinking about when you were writing Strange Hexes?
This record really took shape not completely within me. I felt possessed, really.
Productively possessed?
Yeah, a lot of writing came out of me at that time. I can look at it now and see there’s really an exploration of love, or the madness that I feel out of love. I had completely given myself to being a vessel. I’m not saying I’m some kind of mystic or something—fuck that! The false mysticisms that people adopt—it’s not that! I won’t allow myself to force it. It has to be an idea that comes from a pure origin. I’m just doing what—I know it makes me feel alive! On a day where I don’t sing, I feel suffocated. There’s an amazing thing that happens when you sing—when you feel that air moving through you. I know that makes me feel alive. To be at the mercy of a song is sometimes really tortuous, and I have felt that at times. I know I can’t push myself because I’m gonna break or snap. I have to give myself space. That’s always a very difficult thing for me—there’s always been a voice that kind of beats me down since I’m a child.
‘Get it done?’
‘You must keep going! You must keep going! You must figure this out!’ And it can completely wreck your perception of things—destroy your health and make you feel insane. I’m striving to understand these things so I can continue to write.
What’s the longest you went without writing?
There hasn’t been a day since I moved to Los Angeles—I think in 2001—and it’s been all day every day. It’s definitely an obsession-addiction-slash-I-don’t-know-what. I can’t exist any other way. I kind of don’t know what I’m going to do.
Was it different playing songs with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs?
That was a really serendipitous kind of crossing of paths. I just finished my solo acoustic record and was going on tour for it anyway, and they needed someone to flesh out their songs on Show Your Bones with lots of acoustic textures. I didn’t think too much—it just felt right.
What it’s like having Frances McDormand up front and screaming at your shows?
She’s an amazing person—sort of a constant supporter of my music since I met her. We just have a connection. I don’t know—it’s strange. I really try not to demystify the beauty of certain relationships and what you share with certain people and why. You just have to exist with them. I feel she adopted a very motherly role with me. Being able to have discussions with her about insanity—connections to insanity and Edward Gorey.
What do you think is the relationship between art and insanity?
I don’t think you have to suffer to create great art. But certain people do. I’ve known really sensitive people that have totally destroyed their lives because of that, and I’m very aware of those things. I’ve felt myself being pulled down by the weight of those things, but I dedicate myself to the struggle of being alive and being here, and I try to really understand those things for myself. I’m interested in this kind of as a universal principle—everyone feels insane at some point! I find if I pour myself into the music so completely that I shut myself off from the world and people, I experience almost an out-of-body kind of numbness. In my disciplinary playing, I’ll do spontaneous—I use the word loosely—raga-based compositions that are spontaneous, since I don’t have traditional knowledge of raga, and I realized at one point that if I play like a certain passage I’ll feel myself physically growing numb. At that point, I’m not within my body, but I haven’t left the room, which I’m trying to do. And then at some point in the day I feel so completely exhausted I have to stop. Occasionally I play songs I’ve already written—I try not to do it until I play live because the performance is an amazing thing. Things take different shapes.
How do they change with Bobb Bruno and Adam Garcia in Two Part Beast?
It’s scary! But I’m not holding back—that’s why it’s scary! They don’t need an explanation—it’s more an intuitive emotional connection. When I bring them songs, they instantly start shaping and evolving.
Have you ever woken up with the guitar next to you?
I have woken up with the guitar next to me, actually. But that’s a dangerous thing—allowing yourself not to control the insanity, you know? ‘Out In The Black’—that has connections to that theme and idea. ‘Coil’—those are really my connections to whatever this fucking catchphrase of mine is now. ‘Madness and love.’
Can we make that official?
Yeah, put it on my tombstone! But I really also want to be able to give to other people—to share with people. I don’t like to be so self-absorbed I can’t help people with their problems. There’s definitely been like a muted sense of pressure that’s always been on me—from an early age, I was told the meaning of my name was ‘pillar of faith,’ and I remember when I was told that, I felt extremely guilty all of a sudden. That I wasn’t giving enough to other people! But I don’t know if that’s a delusion as well—but I definitely want to help people. Through music—that’s great redemption!
What did you mean when you said ‘Every omen I see, I heed.’?
Have you seen Jalsagar? A Satayajit Ray film—it translates to ‘the music room.’ This is the most sinister and beautiful movie made—I think it’s from 1958. There’s a scene where this man who’s kind of dealing with issues of insanity brought about by having far too much pride and isolating himself—he believes that music is the true salvation and he hosts these jalsas, which are music ceremonies at his house, which is a deteriorating mansion in the middle of nowhere. His wife and son have gone off to visit her dying parent, and he sees lightning through the window and at one point looks into his glass, and there is a beautiful crystal chandelier above him but instead of that he sees an insect. And immediately his entire demeanor changes. In India, that is an omen. He knows something is wrong. And in the next scene we find out the houseboat his wife and son were on went into a whirlpool and they were both killed. There’s more, but that’s probably paranoia and superstition forced on me growing up from religious factors and things—I’ve definitely had to fight off being a really paranoid and superstitious person. I’ll see symbols or believe things—I definitely strive to confront them. My brother is like a really insanely fast driver—it always worried me. I had some vision of him dying—I was woke up crying and I went and called him and told him to quit doing that. When I was thirteen, he drove me off this turnoff—like an exit—we flew off through the air and landed in this desert pit, and I didn’t get thrown out of the car but I should have. I remember him laughing maniacally because he was so frightened by what happened. I don’t know. We were growing up in a crazy environment and always pushing the limits of our little world. And I don’t go on tour anymore in the wintertime because I was in a van accident a few years ago. I just have a lot of superstitions that I live my life by. Ultimately it’s just mental programming I’ve grown up with.
Where will you be a year from today?
I’m striving not to look into the future. I refuse to answer that question!

IMAAD WASIF WITH TWO PART BEAST WITH BIRDS OF AVALON AND TIJUANA KNIFE FIGHT ON SUN., APRIL 6, AT ALEX’S BAR, 2913 E. ANAHEIM ST., LONG BEACH. 9 PM / $5 / 21+. ALEXSBAR.COM. AND WITH MY PET SADDLE, THE GROWLERS AND GOLDEN ANIMALS ON MON., APRIL 7, AT THE VIPER ROOM, 8852 W. SUNSET BLVD., WEST HOLLYWOOD. 8:30 PM / FREE / 21+. VIPERROOM.COM. IMAAD WASIF WITH TWO PART BEAST’S STRANGE HEXES IS OUT NOW. VISIT IMAAD WASIF AT IMAADWASIF.COM.