This is an open appeal from my tight bro in FLA, Mike Taylor:
"Dear traveling bands and art rebels, et al.
In the early 80s, Black Flag drove to Miami, Their style of Hello Kitty t shirts and cutoff jeans forced the Miami Beach punxes of the era to doff their leather jackets and mohawks in favor of fuggit apparel that the rest of the youth culture only caught onto like 5 months ago. Fast forward to 2006, When Animal Collective and GangGang Dance played at the Vagabond in midtown, because bands only come to Miami when galleries pay their way in December for Art Basel; Animal Collective is now alternative Miami's favorite band.
It's like Daydream Nation, but Animal Collective.
And that could've been your band.
Do you understand?
Come here. It is 6 hours south of Gainesville, which you should be playing anyway. Yes, I know it's along, dull drive. You still play Nebraska, though. The time is now, 2009. They even made a joke about it on 30 Rock last night: "Why does anyone go to Miami? Ass. And the bourgeoning art scene".
I quit booking shows when I lived where everyone wanted to go. Now, I will book your show. I will make sure you eat well. I'll take you to the beach in February. You'll get to scope out your apt. for when Cuban travel is an Obama possibility. I can't promise the ass thing, but if you know how to work it...
I know it's not 1996 and you don't have to bust your ass anymore and Myspace guarantees whatever you think they guarantee. But seriously, fix your sense of adventure. This is one of the last major US cities that freak culture avoids, yet it has more pirate radio than ANY US CITY and better coffee than ANYWHERE. Right now, noise kids are descending on Miami for the annual Int'l Noise Conference and they're gonna have a blast. Then, all will be quiet until December. If you tour here, you will have a memorable experience.
Take me up on this. I'm not sure how long my time is for here. Email me at scenerific AT yahoo DOTTT com ( in the spirit of true-to-life trust and adventure) if you want a show NOT IN DECEMBER. I will not deal with Art Basel shows! I DO NOT HAVE A MYSPACE ADDRESS.
Thank you and get psyched,
Dude, and lest we forget, cos we did for too long--- Bird Names Blago song suite from 2005, which Dave Lineal just reposted for download, about his fantasy relationship with the gov'ner. Bird Names are on tour right now, actually, they bring the brokeness of Chicago to you. Behind the drums--two of my fave women of this city--Nora and Phelan--the kind of fantastic punk-out supergirls that you used to read about in Cometbus, the Maggie and Hopey of the Atomix counter; their lives an atlas for free womens inspiration.
Also, the second to last time I saw Bird Names, Dave was wearing this nice red checked shirt that evidenced itself to be a woman's blouse--when he would play guitar, the darts would kind of hike up and by the end of the song, he'd have a phantom breast. They played some chooglin songs that sounded like American Beauty and I did not mind a bit. I watched and wondered, will they be our B-52s, or will they be our Kilkenny Cats? Totally TBA.
BIRD NAMES DATES:
Jan 30 2009 8:00P
Church of Crystal Light Richmond, Virginia
Jan 31 2009 8:00P
Floristree Baltimore, Maryland
Feb 1 2009 8:00P
Big Bear Cafe WASHINGTON, Washington DC
Feb 2 2009 8:00P
Goucher College Baltimore, Maryland
Feb 3 2009 8:00P
Philadelphia Institute for Advanced Studies Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Feb 4 2009 8:00P
Cafe 9 New Haven, Connecticut
Feb 5 2009 8:00P
Vassar College annandale-on-hudson, New York
Feb 6 2009 8:00P
92Y New York, New York
Feb 7 2009 8:00P
Fanclub / Columbia University Ithaca, New York
Feb 8 2009 8:00P
Tower 2012 Cleveland, Ohio
Feb 27 2009 8:00P
Hideout, w/ these are powers chicago, Illinois
Feb 28 2009 8:00P
Grinnell College, w/ These are Powers Grinnell, Iowa
Bring the beat back: some lost/unreleased Fela sessions circa 65, for the downloading via this post via Margasak's fine blogge.
This article is like 80% vexed paraphrasing and what any room of self-aware women could tell you about the confunction junction of their sexual desire. As feminism taught us: our lives are our own empirical evidence--if we waited for science to catch up... well, we already know how that goes. (Dunno about the good doctors example of Denzel Washington as example of someone women would like to be play-raped against a dumpster by. Above The Rim/Training Day is maybe too polarizing a set up vis a vis the nurturing-macho dyad she discusses). Not to be gender-essentialist, but I prefer my sex-science news from less gee-whiz sources who already play for our team--our team being feminist evolutionary biology buffs, of course)). Further supporting evidence currently on hand for the no-duh of the of the omnivorous/contradictory/unmappable nature of female sexualities:any/all Catherine Breillat films and this great and confounding book penned by teen-mom era Sontag.
I need to make a website for my book, which I do not know how to do. DO YOU? Are you that somebody? Can you help me? Or rather can you do it for me? I have monies, but they are small monies.
I know Halloween is long way off, but I know if I curl my hair, I can kind of pluff it out to this size, but, how do I get my head to look like it was carved from a giant wad of freshly chewed gum? He's too pink to be "doughy", he's gummy. ALSO: PLEASE GO AWAY AND STOP FRONTING LIKE VINDICATION CAN BE YOURS IF YOU TALK TO ENOUGH PROGRAM HOSTS. YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THIS LINCOLN LAND AND WERE A SHITTY GOVERNOR IN THE FIRST PLACE, WHICH IS SAYING A LOT. THE JESSE WHITE TUMBLERS SHOULD ROUND YOU UP AND TUMBLE YOU OUT OF TOWN, OR AT LEAST STUFF YOU INTO ONE OF THE CRATEROUS POTHOLES OF LAKE STREET IN WHICH YOU WILL STAY LIKE A LIVING CRYPT.
As a lifelong prick who on occasion delights in annoying others, I feel especially well-represented when I read things about our new admin like:
"Mr. Obama then turned to complain to Mr. Emanuel about his noisy habit. At which point, Mr. Emanuel held the offending knuckle up to Mr. Obama’s left ear and, like an annoying little brother, snapped off a few special cracks."
Do you think Rahm ever grabs the presidents arms and goes "STOP HITTING YOURSELF! STOP HITTING YOURSELF!" while he slaps him about the face with his own hands? I bet it's happened at least once.
I still can't blv it. I really really can't. It has yet to sink in--and I like Obama so much I cannot ever imagine not liking him at least a whole lot. Total new-boyfriend afterglow style. Even if he pulled up to pick us up for our America-date in a busted-up Chevy Caprice with a stock stereo, I would gawk and and go "OOOOOH WHERE DID YOU GET THIS LIMO?! "--you know what I mean? He is so smart and so pretty and has a nice smile and he is also tight bros with that dreamboat Rahm Emanuel, and he addressed Mary J. as "Hey girl" when he saw her at the 'naug and one day we might all have health insurance and windmill-made power because of him, and if I have insurance I can go skateboarding again. IT'S TRUE. Unreal is here now.
Notes on Esa Pekka Salonen conducting CSO tonight.
#1-49: WHY HAVE I NEVER BEEN TO THE ORCHESTRA BEFORE? The CSO is the best orchestra going and I have lived here for 12 years!? It was like when I ate cheese again for the first time after being vegan for most of a decade, realizing OMG I COULD HAVE BEEN DOING THIS THE WHOLE TIME?!!!!!
#50. Cheap seats/student tix cost the same as going to a movie, plus parking and Twizzlers. No kidding. We should all be going.
#51. Cried for most of the first movement of the Arvo Part pc. So absorbing, so sad, so gorgeous, so impossibly sad and gorgeous. It was a half hour everything I want out of music, and it just slipped by. Salonen introduced the piece as introspective rather than a meditation or observation of god, but it was godly--of god--as much as it was anything. It you have a proverbial boner for early Russian Polyphony, Symphony No. 4 is going to make you pass out.
#52. It's true that you can spot an expensive suit from far away. I was dazzled by the cut of E-Pek's v. euro collarless suit from the second balcony/fifth floor up.
#53. His body move is like a question mark. The shape of. I was surprised by the thrusting, nice contrast to the bird hands.
#54. Debussy after Part was like hearing Daydream Nation for the first time and instead of flipping the album over, being forced to listen to "Windy" by The Association 10 times in a row.
#55. Debussy's La Mer made me think that any second a young Liz Taylor or Jennifer Jones would throw open the door to her new husbands beautiful manse for the first time, open-mouthed in awe and mooing "OH Darling! It's... just...wonderful!" The ending was ok though. GO BOOM.
#56. When E-Pek described the third movement of the Part pc. as a "dapper little march" he was not lying.
#57. He has beautiful hair.
#58. All shows should have caramel corn and hot choco. It made a difference. The CSO knows whats up.
#59. It really behoved to go with JR, who spent last year mauling Alex Ross' The Rest is Noise and seeking out all the recordings, and was brimming with insights and composer gossip. It helped jump me in.
The horses are “wild mares” because this is a poem, their pounding “rhythmic” and their breathing “deep” not because Stone has observed mares closely (although she may have) but because this is the language one uses to describe wild mares. Metaphor is a breezy business; the nearest to hand will do: “Cocks and Mares” begins “Every man wants to be a stud” and puns on “cock” and “fowl.” ..... I’m being hard on a ninety-three-year-old woman not simply because condescending to her would be worse, but because once in a while Stone produces something disturbing and exact.
RAW NOTES ON ANIMAL COLLECTIVE SHOW LAST NIGHT
1. I thought there were four of them this time. I wonder if AC makes a hit record that one of the rotating member aren't on, they are like "Sors, Geologist, but you only get checks from Feels".
2. They are delivering us from the nouveau hippie womb into the steady throb into... techno. Maximal, but at minimal's bpm. If you were in the balcony you didn't get that. Mainfloor, and anywhere near the soundbooth was bananers. Best sound show I have ever been to at Metro. Very loud, and so brillant -- the sound guy is clearly as crucial to the execution/translation of their many-streamed vision as the band members.
3. The new songs are arranged pretty diff-rently live and I would sometimes only know what they were when the vocals came in.
4. My favorite part of the night was when they did "My Girls" and instead of the band doing the "wooo!"-clap on the chorus, the audience did, unprompted.
5. I think the crowd was probs 40/60 in terms of knowing the words, which, in a time before albums leaking on the internet, you wouldn't have known all the words well enough to sing along two days after the album came out.
6. When they would play stuff off Sung Tongs which I think was their last really good/genius record before this one, they sounded like murk, in comparison to how structured and articulated and harmonically dynamic the new record is.
6.5> I hated Feels and only listened to the last one 3 times. How totally inconsistent they are makes me like them more now.
7. It's curious, real curious to me, that with this MPP album Animal Collective went from, for me, the progenitors/paradigm dominator/the prescriptive hallmark of absence-of-meaning in rock. The total don't make a clear statement cos statements are for dicks, it's all just neon vibes, critique is the anti-positive, never mind Guantanamo, here's the dreamcatcher/real life embodiment of the accumulatory STUFF dazzle of The Selby etc etc etc. -- They went from being THAT WRIT LARGE to being visceral, clear, penetrable, and singing songs that focus almost totally on bond--familial, blood, the every day desire you would read about in a Mary Gordon story--very rooted in reality instead of the unreal. The phrase "I want" and "I just want" shows up in multiple songs. The second song they played was about the joy getting someone pregnant! And it wasn't a cover of Loggins & Messina "Danny's Song". From the post high-irony high to soldering the irony coffin shut in one album. I am unpacking it a bit, still--the show did not help much--it was just regular good time spent.
8. Also, I think what would be amazing is if they could tour with a massive Justice sized PA system. I want to see them four times as loud, like corn rave loud, which actually makes me look forward to seeing them at the corn rave they are playing Grant Park this summer.
9. And yes, I realize this is a Hipster Run Off prophecy come to life. It's Carles world, we just shit in it.
10. And if this guy's whoa science is right, and the economy stays in the toilet, Animal Collective could be the biggest band on the planet in two years.
also, I can't stop thinking about yesterday's big science announcement: I feel like FUCKING QUANTUM TELEPORTATION is... insane? QUANTUM PHYSICS: 1000% Totally more insane that previously blvd. I feel like it will initially be this exciting good thing--speed of light computing and such--and then in 12 years it will somehow be the bane of our human existence. People will be home invading via teleportation and you won't be able to stop them. For example.
Sad news item via inspirational Becky Smith. 36th anniversary of Roe, file under "still more work to do". Man purposely crashes car into St. Paul Planned Parenthood.
I know it's kind of gross to pimp my boyfriends band via my blog. Lets just get that out of the way. But you know if they weren't genuinely awesome, I would just casually forget to mention them; I will not sell anyone false goods, it's part of my blog oath. Just saying.
The actual NYU radio thing--I missed and so did you because we were both busy adding pictures of Rahm Emanuel into the hope chest....SO go here and hit "download mp3" and starting at 1:00:50 through about 1 hour sixteen it is just MAGICAL SHREDDING. Matt is playing some sweet Mascis-y torrent by way of "When Doves Cry"/b-side of Around the World In A Day ish, Lemos is playing that little box that sounds like an owl and Steve Shelley, who you know from The Crucifucks and later of The Kim Gordon Fun Band, he goes drum. The later half is lucid, then slaying.
The rest is regular good college radio show, you know, i.e. bored/nasal sounding girl back announcing Fennesz songs.
Die Kreuzen on public access. Midwest punx do it flanneller.
Teenage Teardrops has a Bikini Kill/Huggybear tribute 12" coming out with Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death, Taco Cat and Baby Control doing it up OG RG style and yours truly did the feminist album art.Order now, there are only 300!
for a hint of what it is like, it's kind of like:
(the very definition of macho rock in punk's clothing c. our riot girl yrs)
(if you bld it, they will come)
these two women
PLUS! an almost totally naked Tim Kinsella and a copy of Backlash.
Duders of noise! 4 pm CST/5 pm EST TODAY WED_NES_DAY on WNYU is the airing of the little sesh that White/Light recorded with ole Steve Shelley sitting in on drums. DRONEN N' DRUMMIN! THAT IS MY DUDE, future juris-doctor Matthew Clark, THERE ON THE GUITAR SOLOS. I am proud of his solos like I am my mom's corsages. They are masters of their art craft.
My mom did all the flower arrangements for this Weddings-issue cover spread of this months Minneapolis/ St. Paul Magazine, and they are gorgeous, of course. #12, the mother of the bride corsage is my favorite.
Ritchey nails it again!: "I'm sort of like "This again?" Don't you sometimes feel like there's a huge period of American literature that exists solely for the purpose of displaying a bunch of despairing, alcoholic Southerners doing quietly horrible things to their spouses, the action interrupted almost constantly by long, internal monologues about lost youth, the absence of God, and the lack of meaning in life? And then some morbidly-beloved secondary character dies."
Frida Hyvonen, Jennie Abrahamsson and Marit Bergman singing Frida's "Birds" in a dressing room; Frida conducts with the hairbrush. I did a long interview with Frida for PlanB. I think it's the cover story about to come out but I could be mistaken on that end. What would you give to be able to sing like that, let alone write songs like she does?
The cascade-of-wow tone of the radios inaug. coverage made me think of Whitman, waiting for a glimpse of his beloved Lincoln, made me think of his wow-cascade end "So Long", from Songs of Parting, the deaths-head tail of Leaves of Grass, especially in it's middle, of its patriotism(s)(to misappropriate Lacan).
I announce natural persons to arise;
I announce justice triumphant;
I announce uncompromising liberty and equality;
I announce the justification of candor, and the justification of pride.
I announce that the identity of These States is a single identity only;
I announce the Union more and more compact, indissoluble;
I announce splendors and majesties to make all the previous politics of the earth insignificant.
I announce adhesiveness—I say it shall be limitless, unloosen’d;
I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
I announce a man or woman coming—perhaps you are the one, (So long!)
I announce the great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, affectionate, compassionate, fully armed.
American Patriotism c. 09 a cheap wine to get drunk on, but chug we will, fingers crossed for a re-tooled, not-as-shamefully-heinous (pleasepleaseplease) American imperium to be delivered like a baby in a basket. The collective longing for that "justification of pride" feels heavy and hubristic; the city on the hill lusts for bounty and redemption--it's a real need and a ridiculous one, equally. All that gimme is a dare.
Sayeth the Freakonomics blog--after 35,000 pointless attempted prosecutions, the great satan has given up: The Recording Industry Association of America (R.I.A.A.) has quietly ended its campaign to sue illicit digital music sharing into oblivion, the Wall Street Journal reports.
Top favorite people seen in Hold Steady show audience Thursday:
1. Boy dressed as "Where's Waldo?"
2. Entire front row who imitates Craig's singing AND moves, including the palm-to-forehead graze and whipping arms to the side.
3. The guys who can't stop rubbing their girlfriend's back for the whole show, who lean in to them and sing the lyrics to the girls face with Supremes-like dramatic hand language.
4. Minnesota college girls throwing off their Scando-hot with a nosering. One dozen.
5. Older married indie rockers guys night out. Crew neck sweaters, nursing the same beer, knowing looks exchanged when the band played old songs.
6. Vigorously dancing dad in the second row trying to pit and the people around him making stinkface.
7. The dudes who all maniacally pointed at their same female friend during the line about the "rise again" back tattoo.
8. Bra tossing best friends, front row, stage right.
How about instead of the next handmade market or craft market blow out at The Bottle or AV/Aerie, instead of everyone bringing all their purses or magnets or freshly knit soapdishes or earrings to sell, everyone competent enough brings their sewing machines, or sergers or what have you and people who can't sew bring their pants they need hemmed or the coat with the buttons coming off it or their bag strap or necklace that they have just been taping together and instead of getting new bullshit, people get their shit fixed. For like $3-5 per item-- $10 if you need a new zipper put in or something more intensive like that?
I know I am supposed to like Agnes Varda, but The Gleaners and I made me lose all patience. I said "ENOUGH!" outloud, to myself, on the train, as I ejected the DVD! If she's so radical, why is she such a pollyanna?! She asks the dumpster diving gypsies why they drink so much beer?! She is suprised that so much waste is in the world? She includes long scenes of the lens cap swaying front of the lens out of a sense of mirth?! UP WITH RECYCLING SAYS THE PRECIOUS AND PRECOCIOUS FRENCHWOMAN! ENOUGH SAYS ME!
As the J.D. candidate in the dining room just pointed out, it is SOUR CREAM rather than COTTAGE CHEESE that Burl Ives declares his love for and then begins to eat with a fork in the so-tense dinner scene of White Dog. This happens after the three characters tour, I think, Paul Winfield's house, where there is a psuedo-science lab for his home experiments, then sit down to their conquering-racism-through-dog-retraining celebratory dinner, all seated on the same side of the table (naturally!) and Burl DIGS IN to a pile of sour cream for his first bite, despite having a full plate of non-condiment food in front of him.
WHITE DOG IS OUT ON DVD. I would recommend you throw it to the top spot on yr Netflix cue. Unfortunately, this nice little synopsis on the Criterion website fails to mention all the truly great stuff about the movie: the Burl Ives under the crotch shot, his ham fisted jeremiad about robots in movies, when Paul Winfield lifts his shirt to "expose his black skin" and the White Dog goes crazy in it's cage, cotton balls visible in its jowls--and then he does it again, and then feeds it a slider and still...the scene does not end just cuts between growling dog and Winfield, or when the habitually braless Christy McNichol whips a Whitman sampler offered by the old racist grandpa at a garage door, or that six different dogs--some obviously different breeds, even--play the same dog. Or where the dogs at the pound appear to be put down via a technique that looks a lot like putting them in a dryer. Or that the movie is like 33% McNichol yelling, 33% Paul Winfield fighting a dog and the rest either endless close ups of the dog growling or Burl Ives freestyle weirdness (the delicious cottage cheese scene). Or the opening scene where the street cleaner plows through the lingerie store because a racist dog is EATING HIS FACE OFF. It's not a heavy movie about racism, it's Samuel Fuller's career ending hallucination of camp and the inexplicable.
It is very strange to imagine that this film was made with no comedic intentions whatsoever, because it was a veritable parade of clichés so appalling it was difficult to imagine them flying even in 1939.
Take, for example, one of the earliest scenes. A poor family comes by in a covered wagon, and Good Ol' Abe comes amblin' out to pass the time with them. They need flannels for the baby, but....they are ashamed to say they have no money. That's okay, because Honest Abe gives away all the stuff in his store (??) for free! In gratitude, the mother says, "there's some stuff in the wagon you can have if you want it--a jug half-full, some coffee beans....some books...."
"BOOKS???" Lincoln replies, then looks wonderingly down at his feet. Long pause, then, "....books!"
GET IT? Remember the log cabin with the candlelight and how he taught himself law after doing all the farm work or whatever? Sure you do! But wait, there's more. Going to the back of the wagon, he's handed a stack of books by one of the boys. "Blackstone's Commentaries," he says, then ".....that's LAW!"
See Abe teach himself law sittin' under the good ol' maple tree with his big ol' gangly legs stickin' up in the air! He thumbs through the pages dramatically. "There's RIGHT.....and there's WRONG! Well by gosh there's nothing more to it!" Congratulations--you're an attorney!
Dudes! Chicago People! In case you weren't already hitting the Esa-Pekka stop at the CSO Jan. 22-24, which honest to fuck is worth getting dece seats for, but in case you missed the announcement a few weeks ago, the middle hunk of the program is the debut of Arvo Part's Symphony No.4! Nosebleeds at $22. See you there.
Someone over at the NY Times photo editorial is genius for throwing this brilliant shot up on the front page Blaggo story. LOLCITY.
It wouldn't happen for another month or two, but if I made a little book that cost $5 or less, would you order a copy? If yes, click here. I will see how many people click, via my statcounter, and I will know around how many I should make.
Kid Sister: Well, I just got back from the gym, so right now I'm really, really sweaty but it's all good-- I'm marinating. A week ago I got on the scale and was 152.9. I'm a hefty girl! But now I'm 144.8-- what's my name?! It melted off me. My new trainer, Harley Pasternak, is like Dr. Destructo. And he doesn't charge me 'cause I'm poor-- I'm like Oliver Twist compared to his other clients.
Pitchfork: Who else does he train?
KS: Just look at Us Weekly. He's got crazy clients. Kanye recommended him to me, if that's any indication.
Me and Miles year end top 10 digressions and mocking in the Reader (the long version is online). Note the so-unflattering picture where I look like a monkey. And what a vain ape I am...
Making a tops for the year was weird and difficult because this year I spent less time listening to music than I ever did previous. I had a month where the only music of my own I had with me was a mix CD that Ben made for me. I had months where the only music I heard was whatever shows I was writing about that week. I had weeks where I spent all day or night at the hospital and the only music I heard was the radio to and from in my rental, and it was always classic rock and it always made me cry. Six months where all the records people were sending me were at my house and I was at Scheids house, 2000 miles away, enjoying a phenomena called "Tivo". There were 3 weeks where I only listened to a playlist of the last 4 Radiohead albums, Led Zep II and "Don't Stop Believing" while I was finishing the book. Months where instead picking through the manageable stacks at Permanent or Reckless, I was splayed out, tyrannized by choices availed at Amoeba, and so I wound up buying the best of Poco and salsa reissues. My list is half accidents, and is more about sentiment and gentleness-- cos that was my top speed on 08. I could not handle punk. Or hardcore. Or violence. I could handle reverb and quiet girl voices. Pitbull, too, though a jangley girl he is not. I would have put the Raphael Saadiq and Jazmine Sullivan records on there is I knew now what I knew a month ago when we did this. But, it is what it is, and posterity is bullshit. Alas, a list, a year and my funny monkeyface.
If you are in LA this week, UK "dance" band TEETH play The Smell on the 9th and then Wildness on the 13th. The very definition of fardled laptop min the bedroom and queer teen-ennui shufflestep. They are like the Crystal Castles we wished for that were like the Slant6 of fake-out Radical Detroit trash electro instead. DREAMZ! I HAS THEM!
Kind of crappy Donkey Cam at a donkey sanctuary in Antilles. It's more to foster dreams about your future, or that there is PMA going on somewhere--donkey protectorate.
Mike Taylor's website. You may remember him from his days as a columnist for all your favorite and totally dogmatic punk magazines of yore.
and Matt Kessler's too. Both have contributed to Hit it or Quit it over the years. Mike with art and Matt with so much writing, including "Low in Europe, high in my basement, you know what I'm saying?"
More minimal post-punk UK girl trios on the come up: The Rayographs debut single is really fine. One of them is named Jessamine and another one is named Astrud. I wonder what the deathrocker on the other side of the tree is named. She looks like she's gonna eat the innards of the other girls, Greyhound bus style.
Hey--does anyone in Chicago have an older model Tascam cassette four track that I could borrow asap-ish for about 4 days so Anders can illustrate it for my book? In exchange I will give you... something. Like some soup. Or biscuits. Or a book?
email me if you can help.
I am in the transcription trenches--Randy Randall, from the an interview I did with No Age in October, with a florid, extended mix 'n match metaphor:
"That’s the irony of this. The thing is that for decades there has been amazing underground culture in LA that has just been passed by media, we're in the belly of the beast, and thats been one of the reasons why it’s been able to exist. Because everyone has their eyes on the prize, chasing the dragon, we can just continue to exist, just be dirty kids hanging out at the Smell. And no one pays attention, and so we can get away with doing our own thing, and then suddenly the dragon turns it’s head on you and says “You belong to us! You are from LA, come into the fold.” We’ve been here the whole time and you didn’t want to know anything about us! We poked you in the eye and now you want to be our friend?"
Last week was Wyatt's birthday. He's 3.
I made it halfway through Louis Malle's documentary Calcutta last night, but the staring is intense I had to stop. The blankness and stillness and something bubbling on aggression--but maybe aggression just how I understand staring here in the western world--is disturbing. People's blank glare at the camera itself creates an entirely different dialogue within the film on top of what we're being shown (goats being herded down bus lanes, extreme poverty, teeming crowds bathing in a harbor, oxen shitting on a curb while people beg)--you are confronted by it. We are touristing. We are being stared at, but without curiosity.
This is what Malle said about it: "Very quickly I realized that these looks at the camera were both disturbing and true, and we should never pretend we weren't intruders."
This week I had a long convo with very tall Swedish singer-songwriter and feminist fave Frida Hyvonen for a future issue of Plan B. A highlight, when we were discussing the mix of fiction and truth in her lyrics:
I would rather pull myself back if I start lying too much, if it becomes a fiction I find dull or inexpansive… nonexpansive? Whatever the word is. I find when you let go of what you think is true, you find a new truth that can be just as fine. After all memories are all interpretations, and we betray ourselves on autopilot a lot.
Matos may be on to something--The Slow Listening Movement. He's sort of de-professional neccessitizing his listening habits ("must stay ont top of it all
"), returning to the pace of analog consumption. The sense of endless options that is the supposed appeal of digital/ internet music consumption really lends itself to hording rather than exploration. Treating music with time is a wonderfully retrogressive idea for 09, life and art-affirming and also, reasonable--takes the tyranny of choice out of it, with a plodding sort of method. I don't think I could wing this exact method, but conceptually, I am game to adopt something similar. I think we should all think about it, put it in the hopper for PACT adaptation 2009, coming down the pike this week.