It's been a banner week in my dreamlife and Matt will not let me live it down. The unfortunate dream, born of too much Top Chef (no such thing!), centered on my relationship on convenience with chef/judge Tom Colicchio. We were on a Top Chef All-Stars tour, and really, it was just one of those tour things. It would be one thing if it was just a regular bizarre celebrity sex dream, but we had a relationship, complete with awkward hand holding. It was on the DL. The rest of the time I was just skateboarding with the punk chefs. I should have never told Matt of this.
I do not know if this is better or worse than the dream night before last where the house on the corner over went derelict and the crackheads that took it over kept letting a polar bear out onto the roof. And we'd be out walking the baby, or looking from our stoop with binoculars and I would say to Matt "Call 911. Those crackheads let their bear get out again."
And in reality, I am totally that lady that calls the cops on your roof bear.
And, in great revelatory goodness inside the internet style: ON THE BRO'D. Pitch perfect. Kerouac as contemporary bro. And the irony or perhaps just the magic for me is that is what that book reads like to me. It's more like a decoding than a joke.
It is year end critics top ten time. People say oh, these lists, it's so arbitrary and it's really just about what got promoted to whom, blah blah, which is totally true. I feel like doing a top ten for the year, personally, is kind of funny because I listened to so much less music than ever--being pregnant my tastes got very particular (only pretty stuff)--and then since, given how much of my time is ruled by the 2 foot tall infant man in the penguin jammies--my listening time has lessened substantially. It made that time super valuable. So my list is perhaps more exact than ever, and also from a smaller pool. I will be picking a top ten from the 36 albums I managed to listen to all the way through this year. Which felt better than trying to be super up on everything everything so you can have an opinion about the pop album and so you can be first on whatever is the chillwave of tomorrow. All I care about is female Canadian hardcore bands and pretty singing and European derivations of Detroit techno. I refuse to front otherwise and I don't care about Kanye or Arcade Fore. The end. There is my top ten. It's Robyn and disc one of Joanna Newsom and Mountain Man and Nu Sensae. It's top 4. With Elvis Costello's Get Happy thrown in, for the 17th year in a row.
Meanwhile. Aerosmith's "Janies Got a Gun" has been stuck in my head for almost five days, except sometimes Guy from Fugazi is singing it, which takes it from just being good into being brilliant. Don't pretend like you too did not own Aerosmith's Pump on cassette. I listened to it on the bus every day in sixth grade. I only really liked one side though. I was thinking about Aerosmith because I keep reading (bios, interviews, reviews) about young, new bands that are really "influenced by the nineties", really into the music of nineties. Only someone who was 4 in in 1993 could think the nineties were all grunge cool. If your band was heavily influenced by the nineties, you would sound like a cross between The Bodyguard soundtrack and Aerosmith and Korn or Moby and Candlebox. You would not sound like surfy Nirvana. Also, after seeing that phone vid of Miley Cyrus doing bonghits while listening to Nirvana, I think it's official that Nirvana are the Doors of now. It's a bummer but true. We thought grunge was cool! And now it's all reanimated Robby Krieger fronted reunion fusion bands being worshipped by salvia smoking Disney princess on the road to righteous ruin!Posted by jessica hopper at December 16, 2010 01:41 AM | TrackBack