Ilirjana Alushaj is the founder of Pop Manifesto. She creates music for Apache Beat, Girl Crisis, and Typical Girls. She's a columnist for Noisey. This is her take on four places she likes, and one place she doesn't.

I'm taking a break from cleaning up the mess I made preparing to prevent a mess that never happened. For me and mine, Irene seemed to be just a come-on, as it never quite delivered the promised apocalypse. I've been told of tragic deaths and power outages and floods, but little hit near my home in Williamsburg. I spent my hurricane night taking walks to delis to pick up even more food that I didn't end up needing. The walks through the wind and rain were beautiful and not too treacherous. A group of shirtless hipsters screamed to the rain gods and offered us boisterous "Hell Yeah's." A car with a concerned citizen offered us a ride, deli owners offered fair deals, and smokers in rain gear in doorways offered us smiles and good lucks.

Every band begins somewhere, and for Steel Phantoms, like so many bands before them, those beginnings took shape in the network of venues that form the bedrock of Brooklyn's music scene. Founded in 2009 by childhood friends from Pittsburgh Aaron Harris (former drummer for Islands) and Yosef Munro, the band cycled through guitarists before discovering the virtuoso talents of Jesse Newkirk IV. Today marks the release of the Forer EP, a tight collection of heady, delicately composed toe-tappers.

At only 28, wistful Norwegian musician Sondre Lerche has released seven albums and scored the Steve Carell weepie Dan In Real Life. His latest album, Sondre Lerche, is a natural, folk-y showcase of his considerable skills, and arrives just in time for summer days by a Nordic lake. We caught up with Lerche to discuss the ins and outs of his special craft.

Mapping out a schedule for the CMJ Music Marathon and Film Festival is an overwhelming logistical nightmare. Over five days, bands and DJs all over Manhattan and Brooklyn perform for 20 to 60 minutes a pop, and the marathon keeps going. Un, deux, trois, bang, bang, bang. So if you are at a loss for where to begin, here’s a proverbial play-list that includes recommendations on what to see, and where to unwind, wind-up, and grab a bite between sets. We had to restrain ourselves a little, so check under Williamsburg, the East Village, and the Lower East Side for the best this weekend has to offer (starting tonight).

I spied Jessica Hart for the one-millionth time out at the National show at BAM last week and I, as per the usual, dug her style. The Australian model of Sports Illustrated and Guess? fame always shows up styled one part beachy, one part rock n' roll, a casual look perfect for summer nights in the city. The natural beauty prefers oversize glasses, tan skin, red lips and rocker tees— garnering inspiration in part from Tamarama's Nicolas Potts, her beach/pop rocker boyfriend.

Here at BlackBook, we pay a lot of attention to where cool customers go out -- bars, clubs, restaurants, shops, hotels, you name it. So why not flip the frame and let you see where we go out? Here's a periodically updated, exhaustive list of hotspots currently favored by everyone at BlackBook, from the mighty bosses down to the humble interns, from the charming local lounges around the corner to the jet-setting temples of luxe living.

Union Pool.

The Brooklynization of Uncle Steve continues as I find a better product, a better meal, a better conversation and all around better attitude there. I hit Union Pool yet again, and caught Dead Stars- a fabulous band. Cousins Jaye Moore on drums and Jeff Moore on guitar are legendary in Japan, so I'm told, from their previous band, Orange Park. Jon Watterberg plays bass. They were absolutely brilliant. You know a rock band is solid when you’re hearing their set for the first time and the songs catch you. Afterward we all hung outside by the wood burning fire pit and talked rock n' roll hootchie-coo. I am so tired of the jaded haters and wannabes who have taken over the Manhattan club scene that I retreat to Brooklyn constantly to hang out with homogeneous hipsters wearing variations of the same plaid. At least there’s good conversation and an unending supply of said hipsters. Everywhere I go there is a party. I bought a Diet Coke at Union Pool and they charged me a buck. The only thing you get for a buck in a Manhattan joint is a wrapped white mint from the bathroom attendant.

Union Pool.