Critique as a medium for better art appreciation: important, more or less depending on the case. Some art can be appreciated equally if not better with a pure heart and a relatively aritstically virgin mind. SOME.
Then there are cases when critic interpretation is applied to a piece of art you thought you had under your belt and you realize there's a WHOLE NEW WORLD you missed. Humility in this case is key. And reading, never stopping reading.
Take for example the New York Time's Book review of a couple of weeks ago: cover story was on Flaubert, "The man behind Bovary"
Take this analysis of a passage from "Sentimental education"
At the back of deserted cafes, women behind the bars yawned between their untouched bottles; the newspapers lay unopened on the reading-room tables; in the laundresses' workshops the washing quivered in the warm draughts... an omnibus, coming down the street and grazing the pavement, made him turn round
James Wood "Flaubert is the greatest exponent of a technique that is essential to realist narration: the confusing of the habitual with the dynamic. Obviously the women cannot be yawning for the same length of time as the washing is quivering or the omnibus is coming down the street. Flaubert's details belong to different time-signatures...
Would you have thought about it, hadn't he told you?
---
The next piece of critique... in the New York magazine's "Approval matrix" it would probably be charted somewhere between High-brown despicable .. or Low-brow brilliant, I can't decide.
Anyway, LL Cool J's new single "Control myself" feat. JLo... is based on Afrika Bambaataa's "Perfect Beat" and it works well around it. That is until Mrs. Anthony opens her mouth to follow LL on the "zen-zen-zens" borrowed from "Planet Rock". Oh man. And what is with the fake hotline orgasmic voice dropping giggles and demented Spanish snippets ("...no me puedo controlar...el senor LL...")?
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
closing argument
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The number of soldiers who took their own lives while serving in Iraq and Afghanistan rose in 2005 over the previous year, as the U.S. Army experienced its highest suicide rate since 1999, officials said on Friday.
The Army released statistics showing that 12.9 per 100,000 U.S. soldiers committed suicide in 2005, up from 11.0 per 100,000 in 2004. The 2005 suicide rate was the highest for the Army since 13.1 per 100,000 in 1999.
The Army is the largest service in the U.S. military and provides most of the troops fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The Army released statistics showing that 12.9 per 100,000 U.S. soldiers committed suicide in 2005, up from 11.0 per 100,000 in 2004. The 2005 suicide rate was the highest for the Army since 13.1 per 100,000 in 1999.
The Army is the largest service in the U.S. military and provides most of the troops fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Friday, April 21, 2006
when neurons flatline
Some very stupid things I've done in the past 12 months, inadvertently. You know, when your brain shuts off, and you end up one inch from disaster wondering "what the hell was I thinking?"
(note, I'm not talking from an existential point of view, I mean trivially stupid things, menial stuff, if I were to venture into life-related stupidity this post would never end).
1) I dropped my AC around this time last year. I was watching a rerun of Spiderman, in my thong (the detail matters, as you'll see) and decided I just had to open the window a little. Yes, the window where the AC was precariously nested, as in every respectable NY house, practically a living threat (how we love running the blade). So I open it, just a tiny crack, naturally the AC lunges itself into the void, itself and all its 100 pounds, I'm surprisingly quick enough to grab the cable, so there I am, AC dangling, me holding it up, palms sweaty, sweat rolling down my arms, wondering whether I should start yelling "Everybody down there, clear!!! It's gonna FAAAAAL" and call for help. I also wonder how the hell am I gonna hold on for who knows how long - in the meantime the cable is slowly snapping, wire by wire, blue, red etc, they're all going adios - when I notice my cell phone right by the window. I grab it (yes, at this point I'm holding the AC with ONE hand ladied and gentlemen) and call my landlord. He's Italian: it's 90 degrees and he just sat down for dinner, possibly in his underwear. He curses loudly "Porc Putt...", I overhear noise of furniture being knocked down as he makes his way out of the door, I see him cover the few feet between our buildings like there's no tomorrow. I have just started relaxing when I realize HOW THE HELL IS HE EVER GONNA GET IN? Well, my friends, some guardian angel, saint patron of sovereign brainfart must look down because THE DOOR IS OPEN (I never leave it open, never). So there, he rescues me. Small detail: I'm wearing my thong, I'm 90 degrees bent outside the window, my ass towards the door. And that's what he sees as he storms in: suprisingly he survives the shock and so do I.
2) I burnt my kettle. Twice in the past 3 months, I think I'm turning on the front left flame, when it's the rear left instead. So I end up burning the empty kettle that's been sitting there collecting dust for months. I only realize when I start hearing a "strange crackling sound and isn't that pizza I smell?"
3) I wore a very precious piece of jewlery to one of the Guggenheim's First Fridays, where you basically end up elbowing people to advance by 3 inches an hour, rubbing the entire surface of your body against theirs. And there I am, sporting a ring that was given to me by my Mother, with two huge black pearls, protruding, and tiny diamonds all around. I end up losing one of the pearls. And panic-struck I end up txting the wrong person asking for help.
4) New Orleans Jazz fest last year: I end up forgetting my small-change purse at one of the food vendors on the Fairgrounds. It contains a few coins... and a list of all my credit cards numbers and all my passwords to everything (from back accounts to online magazine subscriptions). Watch me run like hell back to the hotel, literally take over the computer room and spend the following two hours eating a fried mussles po' boy and changing and cancelling everything. Luckily the list was coded. And it didn't bear the credit cards' expiration dates. Still. Thank you Pookalu for answering my call and trying to calm the hell me down.
Now it's your turn. Top 3 stupid things. It can be shorter than this: and I said I wanted this post to be short? I should know myself better by now...
(note, I'm not talking from an existential point of view, I mean trivially stupid things, menial stuff, if I were to venture into life-related stupidity this post would never end).
1) I dropped my AC around this time last year. I was watching a rerun of Spiderman, in my thong (the detail matters, as you'll see) and decided I just had to open the window a little. Yes, the window where the AC was precariously nested, as in every respectable NY house, practically a living threat (how we love running the blade). So I open it, just a tiny crack, naturally the AC lunges itself into the void, itself and all its 100 pounds, I'm surprisingly quick enough to grab the cable, so there I am, AC dangling, me holding it up, palms sweaty, sweat rolling down my arms, wondering whether I should start yelling "Everybody down there, clear!!! It's gonna FAAAAAL" and call for help. I also wonder how the hell am I gonna hold on for who knows how long - in the meantime the cable is slowly snapping, wire by wire, blue, red etc, they're all going adios - when I notice my cell phone right by the window. I grab it (yes, at this point I'm holding the AC with ONE hand ladied and gentlemen) and call my landlord. He's Italian: it's 90 degrees and he just sat down for dinner, possibly in his underwear. He curses loudly "Porc Putt...", I overhear noise of furniture being knocked down as he makes his way out of the door, I see him cover the few feet between our buildings like there's no tomorrow. I have just started relaxing when I realize HOW THE HELL IS HE EVER GONNA GET IN? Well, my friends, some guardian angel, saint patron of sovereign brainfart must look down because THE DOOR IS OPEN (I never leave it open, never). So there, he rescues me. Small detail: I'm wearing my thong, I'm 90 degrees bent outside the window, my ass towards the door. And that's what he sees as he storms in: suprisingly he survives the shock and so do I.
2) I burnt my kettle. Twice in the past 3 months, I think I'm turning on the front left flame, when it's the rear left instead. So I end up burning the empty kettle that's been sitting there collecting dust for months. I only realize when I start hearing a "strange crackling sound and isn't that pizza I smell?"
3) I wore a very precious piece of jewlery to one of the Guggenheim's First Fridays, where you basically end up elbowing people to advance by 3 inches an hour, rubbing the entire surface of your body against theirs. And there I am, sporting a ring that was given to me by my Mother, with two huge black pearls, protruding, and tiny diamonds all around. I end up losing one of the pearls. And panic-struck I end up txting the wrong person asking for help.
4) New Orleans Jazz fest last year: I end up forgetting my small-change purse at one of the food vendors on the Fairgrounds. It contains a few coins... and a list of all my credit cards numbers and all my passwords to everything (from back accounts to online magazine subscriptions). Watch me run like hell back to the hotel, literally take over the computer room and spend the following two hours eating a fried mussles po' boy and changing and cancelling everything. Luckily the list was coded. And it didn't bear the credit cards' expiration dates. Still. Thank you Pookalu for answering my call and trying to calm the hell me down.
Now it's your turn. Top 3 stupid things. It can be shorter than this: and I said I wanted this post to be short? I should know myself better by now...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
experiencing the JH experience
Jimi Hendrix-Live in Berkeley, 2nd show
if you have good speakers you'll feel as if you were there, at the foot of the stage, with the students in dashikis and camisoles waving flags and flashing ... lights all around you
he plays jazz! At the core, it's blues, and you know what descends from blues right? jazz
above all it's genius. the complexity of the arrangements surprised me. you know how evey now and then critics come up with lists of must-have recordings, the self-sufficient musical library upon which build our instruction in notes? well this is one of those - in my humble opinion
pair this with live "Inca roads" by Zappa. then light it up: it's gonna blow up right IN YOUR FACE.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
1-800 ... and small change
Hopefully the last entry - in a while - on those two lovely scoundrels:
...As for the group's name — a hip-hop-ization of former NBA star Charles Barkley — suffice to say it's equal parts declaration of purpose and goofy humor.
"We were looking for a name that sounds like its own genre," Burton said, seated near a mixing board at a Burbank recording studio where he was producing tracks for New York dancerock group the Rapture. "A perfect example is when I heard of [electronica musician] Aphex Twin. It could describe a sound. And there was just something familiar about Gnarls Barkley...
Burton being Danger Mouse's real name, excerpt being from Chris Lee's article for the LATimes, March 24, 2006.
---
And now, a little, educational TV digest (I've been home working on an MTV story. Clearly, working)
1)What's up with the McDonalds commercial where the two guys talk about all the stuff you can get for *FREE* off the dollar menu and the *FREE* gets bleeped cuz it's so cheap it's outrageous: the bleep is gone. G-O-N-E. Please tell me it was designed to happen, like one of those teaser ads that only show you a piece of "could-be-anything" and after 12 months uncover... a new food processor, WOW. Please, tell me that's the reason and not, NOT that some moron of a censor found it to be inappropriate, the bleep over the mouthing of a word starting with "f", Lord fobid it could have been "fuck".
2)By any means necessary... really, by any ANY means? Tonight's episode of Bones (umpteenth CSI copycat, this time she is a forensic anthropologist and deals with ... c'mon guess ... yup, bones. Her partner in crime is Boreanz, aka Buffy's Angel. Why do I watch it? It smells vaguely like CSI plus I always had a thing for Angel. I love dark sides) was set in New Orleans, post-Katrina. Matter of fact, the whole episode had to do with body-recovery in NOLA. What is wrong with that?
I won't even get into whether it's morally objectable that they should show and discuss wound and decomposition patterns on the Joe and Jane Does left behind by the hurricane - families and friends could have been watching. I guess this goes on a par with the movie United 93 and this is not the place nor the time to discuss it. But I will say that the very first time I saw the United 93 trailer the whole theater fell silent, the woman sitting next to me started sobbing and eventually said "They shouldn't make people watch this".
Back to Bones. I do appreciate the intention, the fact that the production chose NOLA as a location in the attempt, I like to presume, not to exploit people's curiosity rather to reboost local economy. BUT was it necessary to do so perpetrating the same old trite frankly insulting cliches? Naturally, there's a lot of voodoo talk, ALL the local police force is corrupted, everybody calls everybody "cherie" and everywhere you sit and eat, you can bet there's a saxophonist playing in the background and some fedora-donning cats sashaying around him.
Our two heroes appropriately provide the American Red Cross 1-800-help-now number at the end of the episode. Still doesn't make me feel better.
New Orleans has my heart
(New Orleans May 2005)
...As for the group's name — a hip-hop-ization of former NBA star Charles Barkley — suffice to say it's equal parts declaration of purpose and goofy humor.
"We were looking for a name that sounds like its own genre," Burton said, seated near a mixing board at a Burbank recording studio where he was producing tracks for New York dancerock group the Rapture. "A perfect example is when I heard of [electronica musician] Aphex Twin. It could describe a sound. And there was just something familiar about Gnarls Barkley...
Burton being Danger Mouse's real name, excerpt being from Chris Lee's article for the LATimes, March 24, 2006.
---
And now, a little, educational TV digest (I've been home working on an MTV story. Clearly, working)
1)What's up with the McDonalds commercial where the two guys talk about all the stuff you can get for *FREE* off the dollar menu and the *FREE* gets bleeped cuz it's so cheap it's outrageous: the bleep is gone. G-O-N-E. Please tell me it was designed to happen, like one of those teaser ads that only show you a piece of "could-be-anything" and after 12 months uncover... a new food processor, WOW. Please, tell me that's the reason and not, NOT that some moron of a censor found it to be inappropriate, the bleep over the mouthing of a word starting with "f", Lord fobid it could have been "fuck".
2)By any means necessary... really, by any ANY means? Tonight's episode of Bones (umpteenth CSI copycat, this time she is a forensic anthropologist and deals with ... c'mon guess ... yup, bones. Her partner in
I won't even get into whether it's morally objectable that they should show and discuss wound and decomposition patterns on the Joe and Jane Does left behind by the hurricane - families and friends could have been watching. I guess this goes on a par with the movie United 93 and this is not the place nor the time to discuss it. But I will say that the very first time I saw the United 93 trailer the whole theater fell silent, the woman sitting next to me started sobbing and eventually said "They shouldn't make people watch this".
Back to Bones. I do appreciate the intention, the fact that the production chose NOLA as a location in the attempt, I like to presume, not to exploit people's curiosity rather to reboost local economy. BUT was it necessary to do so perpetrating the same old trite frankly insulting cliches? Naturally, there's a lot of voodoo talk, ALL the local police force is corrupted, everybody calls everybody "cherie" and everywhere you sit and eat, you can bet there's a saxophonist playing in the background and some fedora-donning cats sashaying around him.
Our two heroes appropriately provide the American Red Cross 1-800-help-now number at the end of the episode. Still doesn't make me feel better.
New Orleans has my heart
(New Orleans May 2005)
Monday, April 17, 2006
P.S.
Now all this raving about "Crazy"... I'm afraid there may have been a misunderstanding here: that is NOT my favourite track from the album (Gnarls Barkley's St. Elsewhere).
I haven't heard it all, yet. But among the few tracks I have my 5* go to:
- "Storm coming" (from a barely suggested reggae beat to hard and steady syncopation: healthy drum&bass. not to mention that 80% of the time I feel like there's a storm a-coming, no matter how much sun finds place in the sky)
- "Smiley faces" (love that beat, can't sit still whenever I hear it)
- "The last time" (I listen to the lyrics and all I can think of is "I wanna dance". Nothing sexy, just a classy shuffle with a slide, that's what I have in mind for this track here)
Now If I can, I would like to gently steer our conversation towards jazz: the appropriate, not too traumatic transition here would be, uhm, Medeski, Martin & Wood "Anonymous skulls" (from End of the world party-just in case) and Mahavishnu Orchestra's "Birds of fire".
And to cleanse your palate, The New Pornographers, "These are the fables"
I haven't heard it all, yet. But among the few tracks I have my 5* go to:
- "Storm coming" (from a barely suggested reggae beat to hard and steady syncopation: healthy drum&bass. not to mention that 80% of the time I feel like there's a storm a-coming, no matter how much sun finds place in the sky)
- "Smiley faces" (love that beat, can't sit still whenever I hear it)
- "The last time" (I listen to the lyrics and all I can think of is "I wanna dance". Nothing sexy, just a classy shuffle with a slide, that's what I have in mind for this track here)
Now If I can, I would like to gently steer our conversation towards jazz: the appropriate, not too traumatic transition here would be, uhm, Medeski, Martin & Wood "Anonymous skulls" (from End of the world party-just in case) and Mahavishnu Orchestra's "Birds of fire".
And to cleanse your palate, The New Pornographers, "These are the fables"
crazy for crazy
Actorserf publicly thanked me (or rather, he publicly blamed me, it all depends on whether his "No thanks to Ducati" was a typo or not) for getting him hooked on Gnarls Barkley's #1 hit with my recent post This is crazy
First off, thanks Actorserf, first time someone ever linked to my blog, it's crazy what Crazy can do. IT CREATES LINKS!!! (Gnarls Barkley is one of my myspace's friends - according to one of their latest bullettins they performed a funeral-march tempoed version of the song for Top of the Pops, now I'm curious aren't you?)
Second, I love the idea of getting someone hooked. Welcome to the dark side, young Skywalker muwaaahaaaaaaaahahaahaaaa
Third, you said you wanted to check out Danger Doom's production: if I were you - and if I can take the liberty of reccommending something - I'd pull a little six degrees of separation and go like this:
>>St. Elsewhere (Gnarls Barkley aka Cee Lo + Danger Mouse)>>The Mouse and the Mask (Danger Doom aka Danger Mouse + MF Doom)>>Are Madvillain, Madvillainy (Madvillain aka MF Doom + Madlib)>>The Beat Konducta, Shades of Blue (Madlib)>>The Message (Jaylib aka Madlib + Jay D)>>Donuts (Jay D)
Enjoy!
First off, thanks Actorserf, first time someone ever linked to my blog, it's crazy what Crazy can do. IT CREATES LINKS!!! (Gnarls Barkley is one of my myspace's friends - according to one of their latest bullettins they performed a funeral-march tempoed version of the song for Top of the Pops, now I'm curious aren't you?)
Second, I love the idea of getting someone hooked. Welcome to the dark side, young Skywalker muwaaahaaaaaaaahahaahaaaa
Third, you said you wanted to check out Danger Doom's production: if I were you - and if I can take the liberty of reccommending something - I'd pull a little six degrees of separation and go like this:
>>St. Elsewhere (Gnarls Barkley aka Cee Lo + Danger Mouse)>>The Mouse and the Mask (Danger Doom aka Danger Mouse + MF Doom)>>Are Madvillain, Madvillainy (Madvillain aka MF Doom + Madlib)>>The Beat Konducta, Shades of Blue (Madlib)>>The Message (Jaylib aka Madlib + Jay D)>>Donuts (Jay D)
Enjoy!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Andre the Giant, Flava Flav and LVPD
Ever since its first episode CSI has had me. I don't know what it was:
- maybe the fact that I'm a Biologist by training (few of you know this, but yes that's my Degree, plus internship, then Master in Science Journalism, then Journalism, the rest is history and music - and don't make that face: music and science are deeply connected and my training in music started way before that in Biology anyway, in my crib, with my Dad's selections across Baroque classical and fado)
- maybe it's "the enigmatic" Gil Grissom: sometimes I feel like "hey, Grissom IS ME!", eccentric, driven, solitary, enigmatic, with a quirky sense of humor not everybody gets and one dominant topic of conversation: ants colonies for him, jazz colonies for me. Ok, no I'm WAY more social, but... sometimes I get Grissom-y. Plus I've been sweating William J. Petersen ever since "Manhunter"
- maybe it's the opening credits: every time I hear that snippet from The Who I imagine Pete Townshend holding a body by the shoulders and shaking him "WHO ARE YOU?? WHO ARE YOU??"
I digress >> last night's episode was a perfect example of why I like it - with more than one excursion in MY world: subject, street teams (graphic bombing, posters, tagging), rap.
* Obie Trice was starring
** one of the victims gets shot through a Flava Flav clock
*** victims belong to a street team, they're murdered while stapling posters, it all has to do with some beef between two rappers, one CSI muses "did Andre the Giant kill them?"
(Photo: Elizabeth Daniels)
(and speaking of Andre the Giant>> Shepard Fairey knows Milan's graffiti undergroud culture well, loves his daughter and has designed an amazing poster for "Walk the line": he's a gifted artist and I refuse to list all the reasons why I think we can cut him some slack for selling out every now and then. Art needs bread to be spread)
- maybe the fact that I'm a Biologist by training (few of you know this, but yes that's my Degree, plus internship, then Master in Science Journalism, then Journalism, the rest is history and music - and don't make that face: music and science are deeply connected and my training in music started way before that in Biology anyway, in my crib, with my Dad's selections across Baroque classical and fado)
- maybe it's "the enigmatic" Gil Grissom: sometimes I feel like "hey, Grissom IS ME!", eccentric, driven, solitary, enigmatic, with a quirky sense of humor not everybody gets and one dominant topic of conversation: ants colonies for him, jazz colonies for me. Ok, no I'm WAY more social, but... sometimes I get Grissom-y. Plus I've been sweating William J. Petersen ever since "Manhunter"
- maybe it's the opening credits: every time I hear that snippet from The Who I imagine Pete Townshend holding a body by the shoulders and shaking him "WHO ARE YOU?? WHO ARE YOU??"
I digress >> last night's episode was a perfect example of why I like it - with more than one excursion in MY world: subject, street teams (graphic bombing, posters, tagging), rap.
* Obie Trice was starring
** one of the victims gets shot through a Flava Flav clock
*** victims belong to a street team, they're murdered while stapling posters, it all has to do with some beef between two rappers, one CSI muses "did Andre the Giant kill them?"
(Photo: Elizabeth Daniels)
(and speaking of Andre the Giant>> Shepard Fairey knows Milan's graffiti undergroud culture well, loves his daughter and has designed an amazing poster for "Walk the line": he's a gifted artist and I refuse to list all the reasons why I think we can cut him some slack for selling out every now and then. Art needs bread to be spread)
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
come together
From the manufacturer: iBuzz Music Activated Sex Toy - A super-fun sex toy that plugs into your iPod! The music-activated vibrating bullet stimulates you in time with your favourite music
"In time with your favourite music"?
I'm thinking Prodigy's "Firestarter" on heavy rotation. On second thought, bad idea.
BBB: Brian Adams Brasilian wax & Bose on a cab
Do you ever pay attention to cabbies' musical selections? Well, I never did - until recently that is. With such a diverse ethnic makeup one can't but expect fresh choices, if not completely enjoyable. It's like going food shopping in Jackson Heights: you may not have the palate for all the ingredients (some tastes are after all acquired) yet you can't avoid appreciating the novelty and the variety.
Lately I've observed a pattern: older cabbies from Easter Europe tend to have a soft spot for classical music. The same one who lectured me on the need to *literally* whip your children's ass was tuned in on the New York Times' classical station and we rather poetically conversed about Rostropovich and the sound of the cello.
Last night, on my way to Happy Endings, I was lucky enough to get a cab with an excellent sound system and a quite passionate driver. He was listening to one of those Oldies but Goodies stations. When Phil Collins "Sussudio" came on he started leaning towards the speakers, inch by inch, until he was almost completely slouching in his seat and I coulnd't see his cap anymore.
o-oh.
I mean, I wasn't even scared the whole scene was too funny. "Turn it up, it really doesn't bother me" (you know I meant it) I said and - head bobbing in sync - we started reminiscing back and forth about the time in our lives when that song was new. He said "those were the best days of my life" and as if summoned ta-da! Brian Adams was on with "Summer of '69" followed by all time fav "Take me home tonight".
So, my point is: next time you're on a cab, pay attention (Haitians seem to love African percussion and ... salsa!). Unless it's some old sketchy guy who starts talking about whipping asses... no, wait I fraternized with him too. Ok, well, be careful but let the music carry you.
I was rewarded: got at HE and they were playing Scissor Sisters' awesome rendition of "Comfortably numb".
One last thing: I've been to HE a few times yet I haven't figured it out: I mean, what kind of place is that, is it a teen-on-the-loose joint or a Village People sanctuary, I don't get it: for instance last night every table was adorned with a nice framed picture... our table had a photo of a naked woman, on all fours, Brasilian waxed, shot from behind, upCLOOOOOSE.
Nice.
Lately I've observed a pattern: older cabbies from Easter Europe tend to have a soft spot for classical music. The same one who lectured me on the need to *literally* whip your children's ass was tuned in on the New York Times' classical station and we rather poetically conversed about Rostropovich and the sound of the cello.
Last night, on my way to Happy Endings, I was lucky enough to get a cab with an excellent sound system and a quite passionate driver. He was listening to one of those Oldies but Goodies stations. When Phil Collins "Sussudio" came on he started leaning towards the speakers, inch by inch, until he was almost completely slouching in his seat and I coulnd't see his cap anymore.
o-oh.
I mean, I wasn't even scared the whole scene was too funny. "Turn it up, it really doesn't bother me" (you know I meant it) I said and - head bobbing in sync - we started reminiscing back and forth about the time in our lives when that song was new. He said "those were the best days of my life" and as if summoned ta-da! Brian Adams was on with "Summer of '69" followed by all time fav "Take me home tonight".
So, my point is: next time you're on a cab, pay attention (Haitians seem to love African percussion and ... salsa!). Unless it's some old sketchy guy who starts talking about whipping asses... no, wait I fraternized with him too. Ok, well, be careful but let the music carry you.
I was rewarded: got at HE and they were playing Scissor Sisters' awesome rendition of "Comfortably numb".
One last thing: I've been to HE a few times yet I haven't figured it out: I mean, what kind of place is that, is it a teen-on-the-loose joint or a Village People sanctuary, I don't get it: for instance last night every table was adorned with a nice framed picture... our table had a photo of a naked woman, on all fours, Brasilian waxed, shot from behind, upCLOOOOOSE.
Nice.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
the case of neko & emotional physics
You're not supposed to totally know what's happening. The songs are supposed to give you clues so you can fill in the blanks. I don't know if I'm good at this or not, but I try.
...
The record (Fox confessor brings the flood) is about losing your faith. No matter how much you lose your faith, whether it be in humanity, in your country or in your best friend, there's still always a little atom of faith left somehow. It's like not being able to destroy matter-- it's about physics! [laughs] Emotional physics! Mind physics!
Neko Case, by Ryan Dombal for Pitchfork
Just throwing out an impromptu poll here and I hope you will answer, my friends: how many atoms of faith do YOU have left?
...
The record (Fox confessor brings the flood) is about losing your faith. No matter how much you lose your faith, whether it be in humanity, in your country or in your best friend, there's still always a little atom of faith left somehow. It's like not being able to destroy matter-- it's about physics! [laughs] Emotional physics! Mind physics!
Neko Case, by Ryan Dombal for Pitchfork
Just throwing out an impromptu poll here and I hope you will answer, my friends: how many atoms of faith do YOU have left?
Monday, April 10, 2006
(h)earplugs
Last week-end's menu:
*Friday:
Guggenheim's First Fridays - Beans/RJD2
**Saturday:
North Six - Oneida, Kyp Malone (Tv on the radio)
Capone's - Dj Duane & Steve Steinski (of the Double Dee & Steinski's Lessons 1,2,3)
*Beans' notable selections >> Minnie Riperton's "I'm the black gold of the sun", Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy", Jay D's "Workin' on it" and a handful of Tribe Called Quest.
Beans' notable moments >> note, access to the rotunda's ramp, where the art is on display, is forbidden to those holding glasses and bottles. Beans who has just finished his set resolutely walks on the ramp with a bottle of beer (and, mind you, we have already intercepted him on his way to "take a piss", that was an hour earlier and oh the satisfaction he showed, the grin he had while whistling his "s", I'ma take a PISSSSS, that's a man who's having fun -- and beer), so anyway he mellowly but decisively walks on the ramp, random people stop him "Yo dawg, that was DOPE much respect" "Hey man, uh, thank you for the music, uh, cool", he smiles and goes on, mellowly slowly but surely on the ramp. It is then that a security guard spots him. Security guard spots him and starts moving in on him, his hand out, ready to grab the bottle, already a menacing look on his face. Beans sees him, sees his hand and ... shakes it. "Hey what's up?'.
Man, seeing his smile turn downwards was heartbreaking.
**North Six, Oneida, not my kind of venue, crowd or music for that matter, but I went for the pleasure of the company (Supervillana) and because I think a real music-head should be exposed to the source of her passion as much as she can. Having a broad range helps you gain perspective and depth in criticism. And Kyp Malone's voice makes me think of Valhalla, just like Chris Cornell's. Goths and heros in the afterlife: strange, right?
Capone's, Duane, Steinski, WOW! It was just like drinking a 1/3 Soultrain, 1/3 Kool Herc's bloc party, 1/3 1970s Cuban ballroom cocktail. Old school salsa back to back with Rakim while The OJays got it on in a vintage video. We danced to the last drop of sweat and let me tell you one thing: on hip-hop Supervillana may not have the moves of a Ding-Dong but don't get her started with salsa; it's like seeing a matador fight a bull, she's fierce and elegant and HOT.
Duane never, ever fails to get our groove on. So Duane, Beans: "the stage is a cage the mic is a third rail" - keep it electrified.
(Steinski at work, disco ball and Traktor: then and now - ok I'm not sure he uses Traktor... maybe not)
*Friday:
Guggenheim's First Fridays - Beans/RJD2
**Saturday:
North Six - Oneida, Kyp Malone (Tv on the radio)
Capone's - Dj Duane & Steve Steinski (of the Double Dee & Steinski's Lessons 1,2,3)
*Beans' notable selections >> Minnie Riperton's "I'm the black gold of the sun", Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy", Jay D's "Workin' on it" and a handful of Tribe Called Quest.
Beans' notable moments >> note, access to the rotunda's ramp, where the art is on display, is forbidden to those holding glasses and bottles. Beans who has just finished his set resolutely walks on the ramp with a bottle of beer (and, mind you, we have already intercepted him on his way to "take a piss", that was an hour earlier and oh the satisfaction he showed, the grin he had while whistling his "s", I'ma take a PISSSSS, that's a man who's having fun -- and beer), so anyway he mellowly but decisively walks on the ramp, random people stop him "Yo dawg, that was DOPE much respect" "Hey man, uh, thank you for the music, uh, cool", he smiles and goes on, mellowly slowly but surely on the ramp. It is then that a security guard spots him. Security guard spots him and starts moving in on him, his hand out, ready to grab the bottle, already a menacing look on his face. Beans sees him, sees his hand and ... shakes it. "Hey what's up?'.
Man, seeing his smile turn downwards was heartbreaking.
**North Six, Oneida, not my kind of venue, crowd or music for that matter, but I went for the pleasure of the company (Supervillana) and because I think a real music-head should be exposed to the source of her passion as much as she can. Having a broad range helps you gain perspective and depth in criticism. And Kyp Malone's voice makes me think of Valhalla, just like Chris Cornell's. Goths and heros in the afterlife: strange, right?
Capone's, Duane, Steinski, WOW! It was just like drinking a 1/3 Soultrain, 1/3 Kool Herc's bloc party, 1/3 1970s Cuban ballroom cocktail. Old school salsa back to back with Rakim while The OJays got it on in a vintage video. We danced to the last drop of sweat and let me tell you one thing: on hip-hop Supervillana may not have the moves of a Ding-Dong but don't get her started with salsa; it's like seeing a matador fight a bull, she's fierce and elegant and HOT.
Duane never, ever fails to get our groove on. So Duane, Beans: "the stage is a cage the mic is a third rail" - keep it electrified.
(Steinski at work, disco ball and Traktor: then and now - ok I'm not sure he uses Traktor... maybe not)
Friday, April 07, 2006
dry
Today I decided to give up on someone I considered to be my friend.
Nothing MAJOR has happened, rather something small. But it comes on top of a series of little actions and words (or lack thereof) that made me feel, in the past weeks at least, as if I was working too much and friend too little to keep this friendship going.
It's true it wasn't just any other friendship - me and friend have history - and thus it required more efforts than the average but since friend had claimed an intention to make it work I assumed (wow, how could I?) friend meant what friend said.
This morning again friend upset me. I cried a lot this year and even though I'm better and I'm past that stage, I can still sob: I got to the point where I just sob and have no tears to cry. Just like dry humping and dry cleaning, dry crying is no fun.
Friend I decided to give up on: I really care and I really tried, even against people's advice. You said you don't see how you weren't a friend in the past few weeks - either you're lying or you're so out of touch with what was our friendship that you honestly don't see.
If on the other hand there is something I don't get, something blatantly obvious for you, please explain, make me understand.
A friend isn't only she or he who answers your phone calls. That's not being a friend, that's being polite.
Nothing MAJOR has happened, rather something small. But it comes on top of a series of little actions and words (or lack thereof) that made me feel, in the past weeks at least, as if I was working too much and friend too little to keep this friendship going.
It's true it wasn't just any other friendship - me and friend have history - and thus it required more efforts than the average but since friend had claimed an intention to make it work I assumed (wow, how could I?) friend meant what friend said.
This morning again friend upset me. I cried a lot this year and even though I'm better and I'm past that stage, I can still sob: I got to the point where I just sob and have no tears to cry. Just like dry humping and dry cleaning, dry crying is no fun.
Friend I decided to give up on: I really care and I really tried, even against people's advice. You said you don't see how you weren't a friend in the past few weeks - either you're lying or you're so out of touch with what was our friendship that you honestly don't see.
If on the other hand there is something I don't get, something blatantly obvious for you, please explain, make me understand.
A friend isn't only she or he who answers your phone calls. That's not being a friend, that's being polite.
born Konductor
feature on hip-hop (check)
feature on jazz in a hip-hop generation (check)
feature on Coachella (check back in 3 weeks)
Terni jazz festival, Italy (no features, that's holiday, June 21-26)
I love music. Beyond imagination.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
who's Jack.
I watch tv carefully. I choose what to watch selectively. Even the crap I watch (it happens, crap I mean), I handpick it. I go by different m.o.s when chosing - I'll look for character, plot or even individual lines. Lines grab my attention by the horns.
Will & Grace, tonight (no, I'm not implying W&G is crap)
Jack thinks he's blown his audition for the part of "squeaking queen #3", but gets the lead part instead, the straight private investigator. Jack, the quintessential squeaking queen and not precisely an actor of Brandonesque stature, is appalled: how in the WORLD did he end up with the lead part? Enters assistant producer and tells him it was the director's choice, apparently he recognized in Jack his lead character:
a devastated narcissist careening towards a dismal future
that's a great line for a business card. Or a doormat, facing inwards. Imagine, stepping on it everyday on your way out.
Will & Grace, tonight (no, I'm not implying W&G is crap)
Jack thinks he's blown his audition for the part of "squeaking queen #3", but gets the lead part instead, the straight private investigator. Jack, the quintessential squeaking queen and not precisely an actor of Brandonesque stature, is appalled: how in the WORLD did he end up with the lead part? Enters assistant producer and tells him it was the director's choice, apparently he recognized in Jack his lead character:
a devastated narcissist careening towards a dismal future
that's a great line for a business card. Or a doormat, facing inwards. Imagine, stepping on it everyday on your way out.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
this is crazy
Pitchfork reports:
If you haven't heard "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley yet, cherish your innocence and purity, for soon you will be a "Crazy" slut. The song went to number one in the UK this past weekend, despite the fact that the actual, physical single wasn't available in shops until Tuesday. This marks the first time a single hit the top of the charts based on download sales alone, and things will surely never be the same again
It's more effective if you try to imagine the "things will surely..." sentence as spoken in your father's voice. But seriously, this IS huge. I'll make sure to personally congratulate Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse when I see them in Coachella. Love the song, btw.
What's that you said...? Oh, you mean I haven't told you yet? Well yes my friends, I'm going, Coachella valley arts and music festival, April 29-30. I will cover it, take pictures, do interviews. But most importantly, SOAK UP the MUSIC. (and also, as suggested by YumYum, festival's veteran, I'll make sure I tie something to my car's antennae or find some way to remember where I park. All rental cars look alike and it could take up to hours to locate it, believe it or not. It happened to her...)
If you haven't heard "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley yet, cherish your innocence and purity, for soon you will be a "Crazy" slut. The song went to number one in the UK this past weekend, despite the fact that the actual, physical single wasn't available in shops until Tuesday. This marks the first time a single hit the top of the charts based on download sales alone, and things will surely never be the same again
It's more effective if you try to imagine the "things will surely..." sentence as spoken in your father's voice. But seriously, this IS huge. I'll make sure to personally congratulate Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse when I see them in Coachella. Love the song, btw.
What's that you said...? Oh, you mean I haven't told you yet? Well yes my friends, I'm going, Coachella valley arts and music festival, April 29-30. I will cover it, take pictures, do interviews. But most importantly, SOAK UP the MUSIC. (and also, as suggested by YumYum, festival's veteran, I'll make sure I tie something to my car's antennae or find some way to remember where I park. All rental cars look alike and it could take up to hours to locate it, believe it or not. It happened to her...)
Prince is always right
Yes, it's happening. Look outside the window and play that scratched copy of "Under the cherry moon" you've been saving for a day like this:
Sometimes it snows in April
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
can't or won't?
As I type, two of my favourite djs/producers (Prefuse 73/Josh Eustis of Telefon Tel Aviv) are spinning at one of my favourite spots (APT). I'm going to miss them because none of my friends can go (although some tried and tried hard - thank you Pookalu!) and I can't go alone, or rather won't. Which one?
For the past 40 minutes I've been blowing off steam and having this internal tirade on how it's so unfair that a single woman should miss something she likes because:
- in this city it can be dangerous for a woman to wander alone at night
- in this culture it's considered inappropriate for a woman to be socially active, alone. In other words, I'd look like a dork. If I were a man, on the other hand, I'd look kinda cool
I ended up watching TBS's rerun of the SERIES finale of Sex & the city, I mean, the series finale of one of my favourite shows, in its ten millionth rerun, on a network that is also running a pathetic series of Lord of the rings commercials, with Frodo and Sam a' la Brokeback mountain (I find it insulting for my intelligence that since the network is "very funny" then EVERY frigging movie they show should be repackaged in a buffoon costume. Like making Neo from the Matrix sound retarded or Lara Croft sound like she's one of the gals on Lavaline "Meet Lara, she likes to go treasure-hunting...").
So, halfway through Sex and the city Big complains about feeling like a "needy chick". Well, that's me, bloggin away, chomp-chomp-chomping on a ... carrot (because I can't, even now, break my diet), a glass of ... Diet Sprite zero (Jesus!) in my hand.
I guess it's pc that I should stay home on this particular night: I'm still nursing a bad cold with a cough and I have to get up at 6am. But this is the last time I let my double X chromosome stop me, no matter how inappropriate or dangerous (ok, precautions can and will be taken) my actions turn out to be.
For the past 40 minutes I've been blowing off steam and having this internal tirade on how it's so unfair that a single woman should miss something she likes because:
- in this city it can be dangerous for a woman to wander alone at night
- in this culture it's considered inappropriate for a woman to be socially active, alone. In other words, I'd look like a dork. If I were a man, on the other hand, I'd look kinda cool
I ended up watching TBS's rerun of the SERIES finale of Sex & the city, I mean, the series finale of one of my favourite shows, in its ten millionth rerun, on a network that is also running a pathetic series of Lord of the rings commercials, with Frodo and Sam a' la Brokeback mountain (I find it insulting for my intelligence that since the network is "very funny" then EVERY frigging movie they show should be repackaged in a buffoon costume. Like making Neo from the Matrix sound retarded or Lara Croft sound like she's one of the gals on Lavaline "Meet Lara, she likes to go treasure-hunting...").
So, halfway through Sex and the city Big complains about feeling like a "needy chick". Well, that's me, bloggin away, chomp-chomp-chomping on a ... carrot (because I can't, even now, break my diet), a glass of ... Diet Sprite zero (Jesus!) in my hand.
I guess it's pc that I should stay home on this particular night: I'm still nursing a bad cold with a cough and I have to get up at 6am. But this is the last time I let my double X chromosome stop me, no matter how inappropriate or dangerous (ok, precautions can and will be taken) my actions turn out to be.
Fellow Italians ...
Fellow Italians, it is with the utmost pride and sincerity that I present this recording, as a living testament and recollection of history in the making during our generation:
ROME (Reuters) - Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi's use of a vulgar word to denigrate his adversaries and his vow to eliminate property taxes raised the heat of campaigning on Tuesday, just five days ahead of a general election.
Berlusconi, during an address to a shopkeepers' group, branded center-left voters "coglioni". The Italian word is slang for "testicles" but is commonly used as a vulgar insult to describe someone of little intelligence.
"I have too much esteem for the intelligence of Italians to think that they could be such 'coglioni' to vote against their own interests," he said. "Excuse my rough but efficient language."
Translations of "coglioni" in British and American dictionaries range from "idiot", "cretin", "fool" and "moron" to "prick" and "asshole"
Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is "cogliona". And proud to be. But this time only!
ROME (Reuters) - Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi's use of a vulgar word to denigrate his adversaries and his vow to eliminate property taxes raised the heat of campaigning on Tuesday, just five days ahead of a general election.
Berlusconi, during an address to a shopkeepers' group, branded center-left voters "coglioni". The Italian word is slang for "testicles" but is commonly used as a vulgar insult to describe someone of little intelligence.
"I have too much esteem for the intelligence of Italians to think that they could be such 'coglioni' to vote against their own interests," he said. "Excuse my rough but efficient language."
Translations of "coglioni" in British and American dictionaries range from "idiot", "cretin", "fool" and "moron" to "prick" and "asshole"
Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is "cogliona". And proud to be. But this time only!
Monday, April 03, 2006
(warriors) come out and DANCE!
... with Beans and RJD2 this Friday for the Guggenheim's First Fridays series.
Tickets are 20$. 20$ for some of the illest shit you've heard and full access to the museum's galleries.
Consider this a call to arms (and legs, and hips, and booties and all that jiggles and waves...). Come ON!
Tickets are 20$. 20$ for some of the illest shit you've heard and full access to the museum's galleries.
Consider this a call to arms (and legs, and hips, and booties and all that jiggles and waves...). Come ON!
yawn facts
A day for sleep awareness, nay, a whole week, last week to be exact. Of course I only found out when it was wrapping up. But I made the most of those last few hours.
How? Check it out: on the subway heading to Chinatown I read a NYTimes article on "yawn facts" and notice Ambien has reserved a whole page in the same issue to clarify some facts re: Ambien-induced sleepeating/sleepwalking polemic. Once there I'm joined by lovely Pookalu and together we strut to bestkept secret massage parlor and sit down for a 30' back and 30' foot reflexology session. THE PAIN. Excruciating pain, but good for you. Not five minutes into my foot massage, masseause works a spot under my foot (I've given up my Siddhartha-on-top-of-a-mountain smile and I'm trying hard to focus on images of clouds and the Greek alphabet).
"It hurts" I finally say, apologetically
"You don't sleep" she says, matteroffactly
"SO TRUE!" I say, "but what can I do?"
"Sleep more" says young woman in the chair next to mine
Ahhh. Enlightenment.
How? Check it out: on the subway heading to Chinatown I read a NYTimes article on "yawn facts" and notice Ambien has reserved a whole page in the same issue to clarify some facts re: Ambien-induced sleepeating/sleepwalking polemic. Once there I'm joined by lovely Pookalu and together we strut to bestkept secret massage parlor and sit down for a 30' back and 30' foot reflexology session. THE PAIN. Excruciating pain, but good for you. Not five minutes into my foot massage, masseause works a spot under my foot (I've given up my Siddhartha-on-top-of-a-mountain smile and I'm trying hard to focus on images of clouds and the Greek alphabet).
"It hurts" I finally say, apologetically
"You don't sleep" she says, matteroffactly
"SO TRUE!" I say, "but what can I do?"
"Sleep more" says young woman in the chair next to mine
Ahhh. Enlightenment.
in praise of red
"Red is the color of the communist flag, the color that makes a surgeon move faster and the color of passion"
Ettore Sottsass, 88-year-old Austrian-born design legend, long based in Milan (the first major American survey of his work is showing at the Los Angeles county museum through June, 11th). See my recent entry "this is how I feel" on his Cartier exhibit.
Red, red, red
Fiona Apple, Extraordinary machine
Red on Maroon, Mark Rothko
Ettore Sottsass, 88-year-old Austrian-born design legend, long based in Milan (the first major American survey of his work is showing at the Los Angeles county museum through June, 11th). See my recent entry "this is how I feel" on his Cartier exhibit.
Red, red, red
Fiona Apple, Extraordinary machine
Red on Maroon, Mark Rothko
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
