Ambling Alp

A must see video by Yeasayer. Talk about 2009 tripiness:

Subway text memo

Your irreverent nature comes with a cost.

Amount, dollar and euro signs I can't be sure.

Two twins with different color leather shoes hustlin', bustlin' and tappin' their toes, 

One L and four feet make for a nice violin arrangement,

15 puttin' these words to memos and plastic

'I want you so badly' repeating in my head twist it around and I'm still in your bed,

silly mattress feathers tangled up in turquoise sweatpants and gallons of water leftover from Halloween. 

You're the only one drinking. That water, gulping for a metaphor, hydration for the wordless soul.  When the gallon is empty you'll have company and offer nothing, though no missing charm, you just drank it all.  You followed their direction! 

Thus, your self-offering is nothing but red lace and silence.  

Later, on a different day, same mindset:

Word vomit into, on, around and deep tissue extra pressure for age co-existing responsibility bla means an extra name, tag and smile attached to your flimsy hip. Sugarcoat that shit with the thinnest lines you can find.

 

Introducing Duchess Tickles

Duchess Tickles, grand finale opener closer, loser and moat.

Statements in between Mariah's lines, "Pay Attention."

Bury your Yoshi beneath these twigs of hair and leaves of dye, no one is leaving this castle of candy and fountains of youth. Instead you will crawl with me to my like and dislike chamber and I will tie your hands behind your back because I don't give a damn if you actually do or do not like it. 

Phones that vibrate, sounds that make me go wee a wee with my toes and tongue at the same time, pickled jewelry in the Languid Lake, crystallized champagne from Cherry Chonks' garden, whispers in the secret alcove of the north wing, Damien the Dragon who you must meet darling I have to show you now!

Come come darling, he's eating the Reject's leather

not soon but now, I'll get back to this later.

Wes and the Fox

Picture a glittered imagination - scattered pink, yellow, and blue veins in the brain, boiling like witches glue over an open fire of microphones and computer graphic applications - of punky robustness and a cartoon swag.  You are funny and deadpan is a word of inspiration, a magnet to your fridge.  You are Wes Anderson (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Darjeeling Limited).  Cooler than cool.

Dazed & Confused nabs a stellar spread and interview with the acclaimed director for their November issue, turning heads on 23rd Street and making minds beg to be a part of his world (or at least mine).  With the upcoming Fantastic Mr. Fox, released in theaters on November 13, Wes talks about his process in film, sound, design and animation, imagination, and reveals how you can still maintain both on an even scale.  As a society prone to un-imaginative programming, jobs, politics and lyrics, we might want to pay attention.

"Writing, for me, is usually just following a train of thought - imagining a scene or setting.  When I'm writing, I'm probably doing that for five hours a day.  Once Mr. Fox was written, I didn't have a preconception of what it would look like.  Instead, there's a process, working with our production designer Nelson Lowry and with Tristan Oliver and figuring out how it ought to look.  So it's almost like you're creating something from your imagination, but your imagination is aided by actually making these things and then saying,'And now we add a little of this, a little of that...'  I don't know if that is exactly imagination or if that is some other process.  We're dreaming up what we want the movie to look like visually, not by just closing our eyes and thinking of it, but by painting it, by building things and adjusting them."

Sly 

Delighted

Sad

Astonished

[4 fox faces in an auburn sketch, non-the-less mischievous. ]

Watch the trailer below:

A fantastical playground that's (sorry Disney) OK to be what it's not.

What with Where the Wild Things, Alice in Wonderland, and now Berenstain Bears I might as well move back home and hang some Piglet wallpaper again.

Get smart, get MURS

Get in tune with MURS (Making Underground Raw Shit) a raw rapper if you will, with a political agenda spreading contagious messages with his thick beats and timely lyrics.  Murs played at Red Rocks earlier this summer, and will soon be leading the crowd-sways and head bops at Treasure Island Music Fest this coming weekend.  Let em give you the low down on systematic knowledge (too bad I'm not required to make science projects anymore).

THE SCIENCE VIDEO feat. MURS in HD from Erick Peyton on Vimeo.

Sink your teeth into this

Had enough of vampires yet?  No, well good cause there's more coming down the literary yellow (or should I say red) brick road.  Flavorpill reports a new book, Dracula the Un-Dead by Dacre Stoker, the next next next next of kin in Bram Stoker's line of morbid genealogy.

  

Click here to read Flavorill's take on the new new Dracula, (he better not have any business with poking faces) watch the trailer, and meander around different sites that are hopping on the vampire craze, keeping Stoker current, and taking a big bite out of your dripping wallet.

Watch Dracula the Un-Dead Trailer below!

A pleasure of the guilt persuasion

Never did I think I'd see the day where I post something about Miley Cyrus.  But here I am, doing just that.  This remix makes me feel like I always feel when a good song comes on: spinning in circles in a Tennessee field, also known as Bonnaroo - the happy place.  Not that either of the two artists would perform there, especially being that one of the artists is deceased.  Props to being current!  Enjoy the tunes and throw some confetti.

I concur

Here's a little blurb from the current book I'm reading, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky:

"I had an amazing feeling when I finally held the tape in my hand.  I just thought to myself that in the palm of my hand, there was this one tape that had all of these memories and feelings and great joy and sadness.  Right there in the palm of my hand.  And I thought about how many people have loved those songs.  And how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs.  And how many people enjoyed good times with those songs.  And how much those songs really mean.  I think it would be great to have written one of those songs.  I bet if I wrote one of them, I would be very proud.  I hope the people who wrote those songs are happy.  I hope they feel it's enough.  I really do because they've made me happy.  And I'm only one person."

Lemony Lickity

The alliterations of Lemony Snicket's "The Reptile Room" [Book 2]

Reptile Room

Hazy Harbor

Lousy Lane

Montgomery Montgomery

Mulctuary Money Management

Swarthy Swamp

Hook-handed

Brilliant Baudelaires

...and in the prelude note for Book 3

Lake Lachrymose

Wide Window

Curdled Cave

Lachrymose Leech

Snicket your way to a scrumptious scone!

The Big Pink

Apparently it's music video Thursday. I've found about 5 videos that I absolutely adore today, and that is always celebration for a little dance party. Below is The Big Pink's music vid for "Dominos," an indie power ballad (in my opinion, obvs) that just takes a girl's skirt and rips it up.



Don't you just wish on certain days you can explode just like that ice sculpture and still make it look sexy? Look for The Big Pink's album debuting in the states on September 15, 2009.

Summer of Hate/Love/Death?

Watch the Crocodiles' video to "Summer of Hate" below.  They're ranked on SPIN's 20 Best Summer Songs of 2009, plus the black and white graphics remind me of Revolver in motion.

Yellow Bird Project

Check out this track by Kristian Matsson (The Tallest Man on Earth), one of the indie rockers who was commissioned by the Yellow Bird Project to construct a [obviously folkie] sound embodying YBP's non-profit org that makes sweet tees for a variety of charities. 

What do ya think?

While you're at it, look to the left where all the bomb-ass artists are, and listen to some of the tuneage. A lot of my favorite bands are part of the Yellow Bird Project, and have designed bomb-ass tees for your liking. Go now!

LL

" 'Downhill? The term means nothing to you?' "

The Giver, pg. 79

I had the urge to fall, in the physical sense, down a very specific hill in LBI.  This hill, if you will, was more like a mound, separating one business from the sidewalk business.  The hill's meager attempt to be the king of LBI dirt was appreciated by my cush eyes, but in all actuality, the mound was about 4 feet from start to finish.  Watch your ankle.  

My little hill that could was adjacent to the miniature golf course I stood upon with my borrowed green ball and lead of two points.  I drifted into my head for a second, and stared at some point before we got to the hole with the waterfall and bridge - that hole always shakes and quivers with children's anticipation because it's an adventure (for me, it reminds me of the pirate ship in Hook).  I know I was happy to be done with the Polaski's at the register, though that shan't be any logical reason to roll down a hill.  Maybe I just need to travel more.  

[No one threw their clubs this year.]  

What goes up must come down down in a speedy tidal sense, we're on the beach here people.  A tsunami of a body lurching at the concrete with a wide open mouth and a wave of silence gargling through vocal chords.  A body of water without the pretty sounds of a splash.  You're choking.  After my roll down the Shreky grass, would be the interesting, in the most sarcastic sense of the word, landing "I'm sorry, I just felt like rolling down this tremendous hill!"

How does my impact feel?  Is it worth it to disturb these lives for ten minutes?  What would the passersby feel?  Same as the ones I actually care about?  There she blows, tumbling into people with their large tumbling slushees, green and red drip drops staining their polo shirts and white boat shoes.

Did she just roll down that hill, under the rope with an ice cream cone in the palm of her hand?!

  Beach-siders, the source of blood on the island, have these specific put-put faces that obviously have experienced too many pastries in such a short time span.  The women and men of the bay side grimace with wads of cash in their pockets and fake silver lining.  I could have tumbled into them and disturbed their sense of center, but I opted against it.

I would have rather been here:

  

Air bag (not Radiohead's)

Upon finishing Motherless Brooklyn, I will quote another favorite passage of mine:

"I'm an air bag in a dashboard, packed up layer upon layer in readiness for that moment when I get to explode, expand all over you, fill every available space. Unlike an airbag, though, I'm repacked the moment I've exploded, am tensed and ready to explode-like some safety-film footage cut into a loop, all I do is compress and release, over and over, never saving or satisfying anyone, least myself. Yet the tape plays on pointlessly, obsessive air bag exploding again and again while life itself goes on elsewhere, outside the range of these antic expenditures."

Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn, page 262. What a fantastic, hilarious book!

The Dead Weather

Jack White, the dirty bastard, has done it again.  Done what, you ask?  Started a new band of course - the Dead Weather - and this Nashville group masters that raw, gritty-southern, don't-fuck-with-my-banjo sound that I always associate with Tennessee. Alison Mosshart's voice floats and jabs betwixt and between the whirling and yowling guitar riffs White does so easily.  And (bonus!), the immense Jack Lawrence is the bassist too, black rimmed glasses and all.

Check out the short film below featuring the Dead Weather's rockin, spinning song, "Treat Me Like Your Mother"

How many bands is this now, three?

Crystal Castles

A little emo but a lotta rough - it's zombie techno music!  Head-bop your beating skull to Crystal Castles fantasmic "Crimewaves"

CRYSTAL CASTLES - Crimewave (new official video)
Uploaded by Differentrecordings. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

This guy just woke up from many years under the dirt and he's loving it.  That, or he's a super-prepster who got beat up the night before by some punks and doesn't remember a damn thing.  Happens to the best of us. 

Trigger Ballads - a little over a year later

"And today the ocean decided to say no"

Found written under my AA "Trigger Ballads" dress, on red cloth, two days ago.  

I can't remember if I wrote that, or someone else.  I like it. 

MPP

Jump jump like a waiting room chair.  

Swerve, slinky.  Miss the car and wiggle around their ankles. 

Forest of bouncy hair, wiggle with the live-octopus eyes. 

"This wilderness up in my head, This wilderness needs to get right out of my clothes and get into my bedroom."

"Lion In a Coma" Animal Collective

Round up August

From Memoirs (Written 1916-17, Published 1972)

"I was twenty-three years old when the troubling of my life began."

William Butler Yeats

Motherless Brooklyn

A favorite passage of mine from my current book selection, Motherless Brooklyn , by Jonathan Lethem.

"There are days when I get up in the morning and stagger into the bathroom and begin running water and then I look up and I don't even recognize my own toothbrush in the mirror. I mean, the object looks strange, oddly particular it its design, strange tapered handle and slotted, miter-cut bristles, and I wonder if I've ever looked at it closely before or whether someone snuck in overnight and substituted this new toothbrush for my old one. I have this relationship to objects in general-they will sometimes become uncontrollably new and vivid to me, and I don't know whether this is a symptom of Tourette's or not. I've never seen it described in the literature. Here's the strangeness of having Tourette's brain, then: no control in my personal experiment of self. What might be only strangeness must always be auditioned for relegation to the domain of symptom, just as symptoms always push into other domains, demanding the chance to audition for their moment of acuity or relevance, their brief shot-coulda been a contender!-at centrality. Personalityness. There's a lot of traffic in my head, and it's two-way. "

Page 131, Motherless Brooklyn.

Animal Collective TONIGHT

In Prospect Park at 8:15....seeing this song live

So excited!! This will be my third time seeing Animal Collective, but my first time seeing the mind-boggling group on my home turf. Looking foward to it, Panda Bear.

Hot Diggity Dog

please compare Iron and Wine's (yellow below) The Shepherd's Dog and Handsome Furs' (the mean growler one post below) Face Control

Handsome Furs

yep, Handome Furs - check them out

they are the mood setting I've been looking for -

"Legal Tender"

I and Love and You

After 10+ albums, The Avett Brothers might finally be getting the recognition they deserve. Listed on RS's Artists to Watch this month, a lot writers, producers and artists are gossiping about the brothers' (Seth and Scott plus [non-related] Bassist Bob) new album debuting in September 2009, I and Love and You.

The new album is produced by genius Rick Rubin, and is sure to be a little more catchy and a little less sappy compared to 2007's Emotionalism. Supposedly Rubin found out about the bros on youtube, but seeing Ruby work his magic on these folksy arm chair, bearded dudes might be just what my ears need. I'm looking forward to a sound with a lot of emotion but without sounding emotional, if that makes sense. There's quite a difference between hearing whining vocals with a banjo versus hearing the pain peek through southern (and cute) drawls with a rockier edge and harsher tone-of-voice. Right now I'm thinking about their lyrics off there new single, "I and Love and You," and how even though I'm not driving North from North Carolina, I still want the same things.

All one foot in and one foot back

But it don't pay, to live like that

So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks

For never to return


Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in

Are you aware the shape I'm in

My hands they shake my head it spins

Brooklyn Brooklyn take me in

To acquire a little noise history on the Avett Brothers, take a listen to "Pretty Girl from Chile" and "The Ballad of Love and Hate" off Emotionalism, as well as a personal favorite, "Murder In the City" off The Second Gleam. And if you go to their concerts, make sure to bring a helmet and a sturdy flask.

F&M

First song I thought of when I found out Knickerbocker was my cross street: 

"Knickerbocker," by Fujiya & Miyagi 

Vanilla strawberry knickerbocker glory

I saw the ghost of lena zavaroni

Brooklyn Bed and Breakfast

A new find in my new home: 3rd Ward

What is it: A space to create, collaborate, work, listen, play, feel, and be "interdisciplinary"

Where is it: 195 Morgan Ave. Bushwick, Brooklyn

Why: Cause you can never have enough cool, cheap space for starving artists such as myself

My homies and I caught a free show this past Sunday and thus stumbled upon an interesting new spot with projectors, balloons, and lots of technological hipsters waiting to see something new.  3rd Ward is a great space for artists, photographers, choreographers, musicians, graphic designers, freelancers, writers, filmmakers, DJ's, directors, fashionistas, and dreamers alike.  Many of the events at 3rd Ward are free, and though not all may be cutting edge, it's certainly worth taking the short walk over to see what's happening in our little nook in BK.  A basic membership includes free access to cool mac-based design lab, free access to co-working space, free admission to events, business tools such as a desk, wi-fi, and reception, discounts on various products and classes, and of course to be "in it" with all who's "doing it."  What the website fails to mention is the price of a "Basic" or "Unlimited" membership, but hey, you get a free bike when signing up!  

3rd Ward is set in an old warehouse building about two blocks from the Morgan and Harrison stop.  If you head south from Jefferson and Knickerbocker you'll run into some colorful, picture worthy graffiti on the way.  The art on the way to art spans blocks long of sidewalk-walls, only getting cooler as the sun goes down.  Only about 20 minutes from my current location, I look forward to submitting and seeing more shows and events at 3rd Ward in the near future.  Now to get the K train up in there!

Woodstock looming

In all my years I never realized Woodstock took place on my birthday.  Wowie wowie this makes me so happy!  Below is a pic of Jimi Hendrix performing at Woodstock on August 18, 1969 - almost 40 years ago.  This is like waking up, thinking your stylish only to find that your father wore neon headbands and spandex shorts just like you. 

Everyone should try and visit Bethel, NY - it really is a quaint and subdued place - kind of like the Secret Garden.  Walking through the streets you can feel a secret looming behind the doors and underneath the pavement, itching to tell its story.  Yes, there are rich, artsy and in shape residents who glare at tourists and passersby alike, but walking through the mountains and being in such a momentous and generation defining locale really does have its perks. Go here to get information on visiting Bethel, NY, the home of peace and music.

King Rat this time, not Raam

A beautifully animated short by the late Heath Ledger to new Modest Mouse's EP single, "King Rat"

...and still the ship continues to sink.

Prediction

This song will be on the radio in about a year and a half, so why not take a listen now?!

La Roux, "Bulletproof"

Look for this British electro-pop's full album release in October 2009. 

The big come up

Sunday, August 2, I was a W.E.T. (Work Exchange Team) volunteer at the 2nd annual All Points West Music Festival.  I was fortunate enough to attend the festival for free in exchange for working a few hours at the information booth, VIP Lounge and various other tents.  As my last shift ended, I trucked through the mud on a mission. My body was reacting towards the lower Manhattan wind, which viciously blew the defined-artsy balloons hanging above the festival grounds, making them quiver with excitement.  Last year I remember saying to my friend before Radiohead began, "The wind is an element!" (and though this is common knowledge, when you visualize the New York City skyline, really feel the air whip in and around you, and hear the music pulse deep within your ear drums, it really is difficult to think of anything more than basic elements which appear so magical and new).  The muddy crowd packed like sardines around the Bullet Stage shook  with fevered anticipation, and I waited but 10 minutes to see a favorite band of mine that I have been yearning to see live for quite some time: The Black Keys.  

After going to Bonnaroo for the last two years, All Points West in summer 2008 and a few other festivals here and there, I feel pretty lucky to have seen so many bands I love.  The Black Keys were missing from this list, and boy did they bring it on Sunday.  Playing before headliners MGMT and Coldplay, The Black Keys were the perfect bluesy-rock tuneage for what was a very grimy day.  Grinding out tracks from their latest album, Attack & Release, crowd-pleaser, "Thickfreakness", and the enchanting melodies from Magic Potion, the duet from Akron, OH was (to quote their song title) "All You Ever Wanted".  Vocalist/guitarist, Dan Auerbach, stripped his vocals down to a raw emotion, toying with the east coast wanderlust and pouring his heart deep into the mud in which we stood.  All the while drummer, Patrick Carney, pounced on his drum set like a panther, pounding rhythms that could scare the Hoboken mobsters right out of the Malibu diner and down to Wildwood.  This duet is a match made in musical heaven, and I hope you take a listen.  

Listen to:

"Remember When (Side A)"

"I Got Mine"

"Oceans & Streams"

"I'll Be Your Man"

Thank you, Dan and Patrick, for the perfect post-work, post-rain rockin' experience.  

Comparison

Two very similar album covers by two very different bands:

School of Seven Bells' album artwork from their record Alpinisms

Listen to "Sempiternal / Amaranth"

Harlem Shakes' album artwork from their record Technicolor Health

Listen to "Sunlight"

Loving both rainbow rays in two completely different settings/backdrops/locations.  

It's true one can find rainbows everywhere, and both albums explode with sound just as rainbows explode with color and dreams of never where

Post-post, post

Post move, post volunteering for All Points West and post getting my bills in order, I will take a DJ class in Manhattan. Now that I have mastered (I use that word lightly) the art of rock climbing, I want to master the art of spinning (in hand form, not talking about gyms here).

Current Party Shuffle mix: Modest Mouse's "Horn Intro" into Modest Mouse's "Bukowski," both feat. on Good News For People Who Love Bad News.

New blanketing

Check out badass Spencer Tweedy's blog, created by 13-year-old son of Wilco's frontman, Jeff Tweedy.

Thank you, SPIN.

Do you ever think about where the first time was that you 'heard' or 'heard of' a band?

Today, I'm dedicating this post to Postal Service and Qdoba.
I remember sitting in the Mexican semi-fast food joint on Washington Street in Hoboken and being told of, then searching for, Ben Gibbard's eclectic and one-time-only band.

Thank you, Party Shuffle, for turning to "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight" and thus initiating this post.

Well after this I should think nothing of falling down stairs

neither here nor there

As I'm sitting in one of my favorite coffee shops in NYC, reading a newly purchased book, neither here nor there, and I have the urge to type one of the passages that literally made me laugh out loud, quite loudly.  I love when a book does that - and Bill Bryson never lets me down.  

I recall about a year ago writing about another one of his books on this blog, and I recall it being equally as funny.  Bryson is my favorite travel writer, consistently sarcastic, brutally honest, and stereotypically hilarious.  I'll just get to it...

On Paris....

"Katz was in a tetchy frame of mind throughout most of our stay in Paris.  He was convinced everything was out to get him.  On the morning of our second day, we were strolling down the Champs-Elysees when a bird shit on his head.  'Did you know,' I asked a block or two later, 'that a bird shit on your head?'

Instinctively, Katz put a hand to his head, looked at it in horror, and with only a mumbled 'Wait here,' walked with ramrod stiffness in the direction of our hotel.  When he reappeared twenty minutes later, he smelled overpoweringly of Brut aftershave and his hair was plastered down like a third-rate Spanish gigolo's, but he appeared to have regained his composure.  'I'm ready now,' he announced.

Almost immediately another bird shit on his head.  Only this time it really shit.  I don't want to get too graphic, in case you're snacking or anything, but if you can imagine a pot of yogurt upended onto his scalp, I think you'll get the picture.  It was running down the sides of his head and everything.  'Gosh, Steve, that was one sick bird,' I observed helpfully.

Katz was literally speechless.  Without a word he turned and walked stiffly back to the hotel, ignoring the turning heads of passersby.  He was gone for nearly an hour.  When at last he returned, he was wearing a poncho with the hood up.  'Just don't say a word,' he warned me and strode past.  He never really warmed to Paris after that."

Bill Bryson, neither here nor there

Maybe I find this so funny because when I was in France I thought everyone was out to get me, poison me, shit on me (well, a bird actually did shit on me in Normandie), and it's the relateable sense of individual travelers that lures me in.  

We be wilin'

I can't wait!!!

Did you rub my lamp?

I used to know this whole scene by heart when I was about 7 years old. I would trot into my grandma's school, grabbing the teachers attention by sitting on the counter and pretending to make dreams come true:

Loves esp around 5:45

Loves!

Bonnaroo feels so long ago - but here's a funny video to bring me right back:

Maybe it feels like forevs because we have two pictures to prove we were there. 

Look for me!

 Jean-Charles de Castelbajac

Fall 2009

via: the Cut

Point of light

"Space Walk" Lemon Jelly

" 'Verified.' 

'I'm moving outside.'

'Okay, I'm letting go.'

'Copy that.' "

NYC Dance Happenings- Umbilical Brothers

It's been quite some time since I've written about the modern dance scene in Manhattan proper.  Post Trey McIntyre Project and Philadanco at the Joyce, and Broadway Bares at the Roseland Ballroom, it's time to do some catching up with dance chit chat. 

Thursday evening, the Umbilical Brothers, a monozygotic duet from Sydney, Australia, shared the stage in Speedmouse - a whirlwind of stimulation, caricatured humor, and whimsical nonsense.  David Collins (the one with curly hair) and Shane Dundas (the one without curly hair) addressed the audience like we were old friends, taking free liberty to express their ultimate purpose, admission of intimidation, and lack of "transitions" (more on that later).  As writers, directors and performers, the Brothers immediately honed in on making us aware of their silly flaws, only to reiterate their non-flawed transitional nature in every skit they created.  The Umbilical Brothers stand true to their organic physical title - Dundas squirms his mouth to make the most questionable animated sounds.  Clicking, clacking, grunting or yelping with his inner cheeks and teeth, Collins is the yin to Dundas' yang, the movement to his noise.  Limber and poised, Collins' free-strength abandon is met with outstanding balance, focus and a smile comparable to Heath Ledger.   

The Umbilical Brothers place themselves in their own world - controlled by a remote, which happens to be in the hand of their Roadie.  Roadie, a physically sarcastic stagehand, is hidden underneath a felt mask and an over sized pink and yellow polka dot clown costume throughout the entire production.  Roadie's hand grasps the average contraption with all the amenities a normal remote possesses; however, the remote's not so remote purpose is to demonstrate choreographic composition through labels [on/off, stop, play, pause, mute, rewind, porn] onto Dave and Shane.  Thus, the Brothers stutter when there's a 'ga ga glitch', turn their skulls like molasses when slow motion becomes activated, and squawk in gibberish when being fast-forwarded.  

As Speedmouse switches channels on our literal television experience, Collins and Dundas mutate into velociraptors, javelin experts, ping pong champions, German commentators, Arnold Schwarzenegger posers ('get out'), babysitters, and puppeteers.  Their skits are acts Willy Wonka would approve of.  Immersed in the accuracy of their target in media or society, Dundas and Collins take their humor seriously.  Their bodies are able to mold and bend like clay, taking on any shape they aim to mimic.  As dinosaurs, the Brothers could have been in Jurassic Park - arching their backs and squishing their necks backwards while making growling noises that could have startled a scientist.  On a different [foreign] channel, Collins claps and wobbles through a series of Yoga poses that Dundas dictates in an hypnosis-like German documentary accent.  Collins' poise and ability to transfigure his body from standing to crouching is something to be admired.  Can the two Aussie's be categorized as modern dance?  Most likely not, but their ability to refrain from categorization within comedic performance art speaks for itself.  

It's important to note that though the Umbilical Brothers emphasized their trouble with transitions, it's hard for me to remember them actually doing it.  Steady and sure of their consistent timing (choreographically, audibly, and comedically), Dundas and Shane probably paid the most attention to their transitions, as they hardly stayed in one place too long. The transitions actually enabled a fast-paced flip book whatjusthappenedicantevenrememberwhatiwitnessed tasting, with a side of giggles.  

The Umibilical Brothers are performing at the Joyce until July 11.  

Check out the duo's hilarious encore below

Motion Occupies Music: Michael J. Fox

Ashley,

I want to try to keep writing for you.  As you already know it is hard for me to put things into works.  I often have to close my eyes, and just let the words try to flow through my fingertips.   It doesn’t always work.  It’s like choking on my own thoughts.

I thought of a great phrase yesterday, and I have already forgotten it.  I am sorry I did not write it down.  I hope you keep writing.  I hope you may be the keeper of many good memories.

Here is the Michael J Fox experience:

'Always Looking Up', his book based on optimism.

ABC produced a one-hour mini documentary loosely based on the theme of his book.

I was simply asked to mix the show.

As many people my age, I grew up with MJF, remembering him as a smart alec young man on Family Ties to Back to the Future.  Here was an amazing young actor with a sharp mind and sense of humor.  He had it all going on.  Then the news came of his diagnosis with Parkinson Disease.

This struck a chord, we are about the same age.  How does this happen to someone so vibrant, so young?

I was happy to be asked to participate on the production of this show.  I met MJF briefly as we had to record some narration lines.  Because of the extreme deadline we were facing I had the studio preset and ready to role as soon as Michael was ready to record.  There was a slight hitch due to a communication gap, and I was somewhat taken aback as to how this particular concern was not thought of or addressed prior to recording.  Michael’s Parkinson’s is accompanied with uncontrollable movement.  Therefore, when in a recording booth, this movement is unfortunately picked up by the microphone.  I had not been made aware of his preference to sit on a stool.  Had I known that I would have found one that did not squeak.  A total snafu on our end.   But the professionalism of Michael and the production team, including great editors enabled us to continue unencumbered by a squeaky stool.  I was not thrilled, but happy that the performance was captured without upsetting the talent or affecting the outcome of the production.

What stood out the most was how incredibly smart and down to earth he was.  Above and beyond all, was his optimism.  After working with him and working on the show, and meeting he and his wife at the post gathering, I came away with the feeling that I should never waste time on looking back, but spend more time looking forward, and looking up.  Keeping the good things in mind and pushing away the negative.  I doesn’t always come easy, but I will tell you that right now, as I am writing these words to you, it is working for me.

MJF is a fine example of a person who is not giving up on life.  One who seems to embrace each and every moment.   A man who is proactive in finding a cure for the disease that has so affected his life and that of those who surround him with profound love and support.

Once again, I have been lucky to come into contact, however briefly, with a special talent.  One of many who have inspired me throughout the years. 

Voodoo on it

New Orleans. 

Music festival.

Southern comfort food.

Pink and gold beads.

Halloween weekend. 

Voodoo Experience

Click here for the complete lineup

This is Voodoo Experience's 10th Anniversary, 

and who turns a reason away to celebrate?

Nominated twice by Pollstar for Music Festival of the Year, 

Voodoo Experience has brought over 1 million fans to the south, 

as well as over 450 artists to the stage.

Check out the map of the festival grounds

Who's in?

It's only 20 hrs and 15 mins from NYC.

A cappella

We laid there with a sense of bewilderment and enchantment.  Two immobile quads mushed together, forming lethargic shapes from an underneath point of view.  Time was an unknown fact, entry bracelets replaced watches and phones and burning neon.  The essential numbers - like a mother, father and brother - were silenced by the beauty between the trees.  Backs rested and massaged, we walked without purpose in a seemingly OK manor.  Front of calves were burnt, back of calves were cold.  Two-faced.  Pretty lights engulfed our heads and laughter spoke languages we couldn't remember.  Fireworks debated points of homeostasis and levels of crazy.  Two was easier than one, yeah way!  Spitting in straws.  Splitting.  Paper plates ignited with fury, the sparks caught our laughter and burned in the sounds of madness, happiness, lochness, and animated voice.  His ingeniously loud vibrato lured nomads out from behind shadows, looking to play, looking to wonder.  The wicked witch melted twelve times.  The green became even greener as technology played with fun.  We stared.  I stared for a while - maybe days - and it felt like Christmas.  Four o'clock chocolate donuts, gonuts.  Wayne O. got arrested and no one knew what to do with his sneakers or 10,000 claims.  His absence was filled with Savannah nights and her teddy bear husband.  All the ducks swam in the water, and woke up old legends from sleeping bags of warmth.  LCD Soundsystem started the last day with Bob and the mess felt normal, just as my dirty hands felt clean. 

It's like this: pretend you're a Google satellite.  Zoom in past the oceans, past the metropolis', past the highways, houses, pools, convention centers, past the trees, and focus on the little flicker of light.  That is a world, right around a campfire.  Soaking, brewing, heating - a full circle of bending minds and crooked smiles.  People are living within the tiniest dot on the biggest scale.  They decorate their dot with pink and green glow sticks, and maybe some empty cans.  Surrounded by thousands, do they ever look around?  Me?  I didn't find the need to, as our neighbors were mirror images.  Through the looking glass, we all screamed at peaks.  

See you next year Stickman. 

In tents

It's a great experience to go to bed in a tent listening to "All the ducks are swimming in the water fal da ral da ral da"

Going to bed with 15

"Everyone was there."  

"Oh you mean the desert.  Of course that's what you mean - the place where you desire, no?  Tell me about 'everyone'."

"Well, everyone at least that has been on my mind lately.  And yes, the desert.  Is it desired?  I can't be too confident about desire within the dry world both fake and real, but the dust formed wisps around us and rolled along the 20 mile stretch as silent as a bubble with the speed of a panther.  The stretch of desert was as far as my eyes could reach, and I have 20/20 vision you know.  I had never witnessed such an expansive line of flatness.  I remember thinking of the lyric 'cause every place I go, I'll take another place with me'.  The past was all present, and everyone, well my everyone, seemed confused."  

Thinking with a head tilt

"It was some sort of treasure hunt.  A wicked game.  They carried me home."

"Whose 'they'?"

  

"Two boys, I knew them both.  They carried what used to be my 16-year-old-self.  Limp and distraught, I came-to with minimum memory.  It was like the same experience on New Years when I came-to in a blanket with my hands choking a coffee mug.  One of the boys, my particular favorite, had lost a bright salmon and purple Nye sneaker.  He wasn't aware that he lost a shoe, or maybe he didn't care to notice.  I reminded him it was there, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the linear brown paths. 

We pinpricked and molded our way through the crowd.  I recall encountering a mafia family in the living room - glued to the TV and silent.  There sofas were crimson while their still shadows vibrated on the dim walls.  Our presence was unknown.  It reminded me of Pleasantville."

Sits down in a quiet upper west side pre-war building.  There's dust on the bathroom floor and cream cheese stains on both desks.  The desks are adjacent to the window.  The window muffles sounds of construction workers and big machines.  Golden Jesus in three ways stares at the computer, and she never looks up.  Buddha is there too, as well as a solar calculator, blue post-its , a Brasilian magazine, and a blinking voicemail contraption. 

"So what happened next, where did you travel to?"

"I can't be too sure as I might be making it up.  All I know is that I went to bed contemplating solace and Wisconsin, and then I wound up in a desert and feeling wanted but still sick." 

Michael Jackson: Legend

A day to remember. 

R.I.P. THE King of Pop

I remember driving home from the catskills blasting "Man in the Mirror"

and choreographing dances in my living room

 to "Black Or White" - and meaning it - when I was 9.

Free Willy and fly.

The most exciting thing since Bonnaroo

Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter in Tim Burton's fantastical Alice in Wonderland

Into the Wild

Both a fav book and movie of mine. 

Check out the track "Society" by Eddie Vedder.

Play Pause

Sadie Benning: Play Pause

on exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art until September 20

...the perfect anecdote to a rainy Saturday

Dots

The T.V. repair man suddenly exploded into a million tiny pieces of green and could never hold a wrench the same.  He came to your door pixalated and shimmering.  Is that real or something we should comfort?  He swung his head with a powerful gusto, spinning his wiry neck in circles until his knees lost all tendons and snapped suddenly like an alligator's mouth closing upon it's prey.  Standing there, facing a skeleton of green, you shook his hand and said, "Thanks."

Hi

The enchanted mess of the ding dang dong delivery man:

he dropped his popcorn and his fingers were never the same.

The cake we eat begins with an B

Try to make it come true and spellbind the orbs to glow upon your squared off domain.  Smiles and wheat and weep in the straw for eternity's explanation of it's utopia.  Row the boat through a moat of glow sticks and ghosts and boots to get to those sounds.  You're getting closer, hear it?  It hurts so good to wake up with a little less.  Paddle and wade, lines of poles blend in with the trees and you tend to walk into them.  Lost duets and melody days get hazy and blurry with the quickness of a New England fox.  A trap grabs the foot, waving it in front of music-stained eyes, exhaustion and jelly.  Voices echo around around around with the droll of repetition yet the humor of butt scratcha's and knowing grins make the sound dazzle amongst the dirt.  Melt meld molten skin turns to liquid as fast as the chocolate ice cream that laces between your fingers.  It tastes good.  Gooey good.  Ice cream and names have never had such an important relation in a place like this.  This place, with all it's glorified madness is my hospital, my sectioned mental basket case wing.  I have a corridor with a view and see all the other blind people walking the streets in true oblivion.  This, right here, will make everyone get better with medicine bottles filled with riffs and IVs pumping the beat of a drum through feeble arms painted gold.  This is our haven where hot dogs replace salads and computers are something for people with polished hair and toes- the dirty creatures cannot touch the aluminum and silver- we might get electrocuted.  Burn the zero's of the world, fly like moths wings, make babies in summertime clothes, plant the divided sky and stay there.  Just be there to see yellow reach the moon and say "Hey Moon, remember me?"  And when the moon replies "Yes", she opens up the skies of silence and allows you to dance in her night until she cannot be of any further assistance.  She gives you her playground and hides away when the other lights get as big as a tyrannosaurs you cannot dream of anything else except of what's right in front of you.  I don't know what happens before and after this, but I'm not sure I need too. 

BONNAROOOOOOOOOOO

grit and dirt and jam jam jam

Shuffle and party, or reverse?

I just love my "Party Shuffle" on iTunes. I keep meaning to write about the cool mixes it creates, but I always forget to sit down and reminisce because I'm busy listening to the next song. "Party Shuffle" creates mixes I couldn't even dream to think of myself- and growing up with an addiction to editing songs [via mia madre] I think it's enlightening every time I hear two songs that aren't supposed to belong together blend so perfectly- like a cup of the purest Colombian coffee.

What iTunes did: The end of The Roots' "Rolling With Heat" ends with a woman speaking as if she was hosting a radio broadcast. She says, "It's the top of the hour, we're about to prepare you for another two hours of music-free commercials." AND THEN the break in the track stopped for oh about .5 seconds, only to drop the down beat of a soft bongo drum. Enter angelic psychedelic Shepherd's Dog "Lovesong Of The Buzzard". The twangs of hippie strings after The Roots' mean muggin' rhythms seemed to purrfect to be accidental. The space between the two songs was spot on because it gave the listener a moment to breath while transitioning with the previous artist's words. Both songs have a constant rhythm, thought created with different instruments, therefore, the ease of the beats just flowed one into the other- " The Lovesong of Heat" or "Rolling with the Buzzard" could be the name. Post-mix, I day-dreamed a DJ playing this transition, and saw everyone raising their lighters and exhaling.

If you have those two songs (which ya most definitely should!), try listening to them back to back- I think you'll like it.

Justin Vernon- roo

I cannot WAIT for him to perform "Woods" (he better!!)

Silent Disco- roo

This is one of those things you wait an entire year to get to do again: Silent Disco

DJ me up!
Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Goodrich.

Bad Things

The most bad ass opening sequence I've ever seen for a TV show. I love the shots of the bayou mixed with the innocence of children, the eccentricities of the church, the notion of sex that's associated with vampires without including a shot of an actual vampire, the creepy myths of the south, metaphors of the death and re-birth of bugs and animals, and the drawl of Jace Everett's voice.

Interesting post, yet I don't know why it's interesting to me.....

Cucumber sandwiches

She was a little girl and all she had was her attic.

Full of beads and turquoise pearls she sat by that moldy brown adjacent door everyday, waiting for it to open for her. 

Her silver key made of spirals and magic was the entrance to the garden well and cherry farms and kept her possessions safe. 

In the attic she could see all of her father's acres, the stables, apple garden, vegetable patch, unicorns den and (most importantly) the ocean.  

She had been banned from the ocean (although she could never remember why), but she always dreamt of jabbing her toes in what would be the sticky sand and swirling her big toe in the shape of stars.

While dreaming of sea shells she had tea by herself, always with her pinky reaching for the sky and crumpets made of sand.

The New Scot

New favorite tuneage by my new favorite Scots

Glasvegas

so glam. so dirty. all elements to make a kick bum band.

their play on nursery rhymes and kiddie songs makes my tummy smile; 

such as "liar liar liar pants on fire".  

The deep-throated pronunciation of their "a's" makes me want to have a guinness and become a rock star (yet again)

key tracks:

"Flowers and Football Tops"

"Geraldine"

"It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry"

"Lonesome Swan"

Wine in the well

New Iron and Wine

Around the Well

A collection of b-sides and mellowed out tunes distant from Beam's last album but makes me want to light a marlboro, get out my drum and sit on a porch for a few hours in front of the fire with polka dots and a broken wooden railing. 

key tracks:

"Peng! 33"

"Hickory" (that word reminds me of bark and honey)

"Belated Promise Ring" (never had one of those thank hickory)

"Serpent Charmer" (really I just like those two words together, evil brings everyone down through slick sidewinder smiles.  But really, this songs intro and the thawp thawp of color-bending beats is fantasmo)

"Carried Home" (sad, not a soldier but been there in other states of mind)

"Kingdom of the Animals" (cause who ever frowned at that?  mine would be full of talking dolphins of the Turks persuasion)

check em out on npr here

The Kids- roo

MGMT starts their set at 2:15AM Saturday, June 13 at Roo!  

Oh I cannot wait to spin in circles, 

wear neon paint, 

twirl my hair, 

and dance baby dance. 

"This is a call to arms to live and love and sleep together"

Coolza

Off to the show this Sunday, May 31.

Looking forward to returning to Randall's Island, 

(as I haven't been since the Warped Tour days of 2004) 

seeing some basket tosses that reach 35 feet, 

but mostly, some new music. 

Favorite Cirque du Soleil album to date: Quidam 

[show and album name] (1997)

Anvil: The Story of Anvil

Kinda sad. Kinda inspiring. But 100% rock.

Playing at the Angelika now.

Harry Hood- roo

In my recent discovery of Phish, I am really hoping the Vermont jammers play "Harry Hood" as part of their set.  The song has never appeared on any of their studio albums, however, it has been played, rung, and spit out over 200 times during Phish's live concerts.  I'll let you know what happens after THE Roo.

Ransom

"Your 

GAZE 

hits

the 

siDe

of my 

FACE"

Trafalgar Square

Gives me chills every time. Waaaaaaaa

The Model as Muse

Not only does this photo make the word peace tangible, but it makes me very excited for this exhibit.  

Read the NY Times review here

GAGA

Watch while listening to "Hands First" by Caribou

What will you learn?

Get informed, but what will you learn that you don't know already? 

The Informers, directed by Gregor Jordan, playing at the Angelika NOW. 

The Requiem for a Dream for our jaded-typepad generation. 

Based on Bret Easton Ellis' short stories (published in 1994), The Informers features an all star cast- Mickey Rourke, Winona Ryder, Billie Bob Thorton, Kim Basinger- reminding us how fun can turn into disaster.   

Music, sex, drugs, and a whole lotta [missing] love. 

The Informers know everything and nothing. 

"I need someone to tell me what is good."

My point exactly