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Hipsters, say goodbye to your East Side Fortresses of Indie Rock Solitude. Spaceland, The Echo, Silverlake Lounge: They're all targets of a coming invasion of celebrities looking to colonize your empire of thrift-store t-shirts, faux-hawks, and sweatbands. Lock up your babies! Hollywood is hungry for your blood! Blogger aj4a sees it coming. He'll be saved:

Went to see the ol' Metric at Spaceland on Friday, minus all of the band members except Emily Haines. She was just about to come out and do her solo set on the piano when I noticed Christina Ricci, Adam Goldberg and some friends milling about the place. No big deal, except now I'm forced to consider whether or not I can still like this happening band now that celebrities are infiltrating my local indie scene.

Of course I just noticed today that Metric is the download of the week on iTunes so I guess they're now more well-known than the outfit I used to see at the Silverlake Lounge. And besides I'm sure there's celebrities into every band I've ever seen so that's not really the issue here. It's that they were physically at the same show as me. Now, I'm not someone who despises celebrities or indulges in the schadenfreude of their foibles, in fact I admit to being a fan of those two in particular, but for some reason I find it a distraction. It's not their fault, it's just that one minute you're hanging out at Spaceland feeling good about your hip as hell underground existence, then all of a sudden you recognize someone and just like that you're now feeling like some tawdry starfucker hanging around the shadows of Skybar hoping to get a peak at a castmember from the Real World. Time for a new favorite band.

And then a reader sends this account of a B-lister busting a very Hollywood move a little too far east for comfort:

Was waiting in line outside of the Echo on Friday night before the Mum show when an annoying green Range Rover slowed down on Sunset and two trendily-coiffed boy-heads on cell phones peeked out in disgust at the line. The east side hipsters in line all roll their eyes. Flash forward 10 minutes and Ian Somerhalder sasses his way up the line to the front and figures out what the rest of us already knew - the doors were closed. He and tall Nordic-looking boy companion (!) look rather distressed and tap their feet and we realize they were the ones in the Range Rover. Jumping the line at The Echo? Come on, Ian...

For those uprooted in the certain hipster diaspora, Defamer recommends that they take turns squatting at The Standard's fishtank, exacting revenge by screaming every time they see a celebrity stroll through.