And I feel qualified to say this, because I am a former Led Zeppelin diehard. Continue reading
Was Roland Orzabal of Tears for Fears a thief of dance? (Warning, GIFS)
I’m not particularly a contrarian by trade, and one could probably categorize me in the hipster file if they were so inclined, but I’m about to lay some hate on an institution that I think deserves it. I think New York Comic Con is a buzzkill. I think it does a disservice to fans and fandoms and it’s time I put it on blast. Continue reading
Do you remember what it was like being a kid?
So I sit here on a warm Friday night, warming my gullet with some Skinny shit vodka and diet coke It’s cucumber flavored vodka too. It smells a bit like a brand new purse and tastes like licking leather, which isn’t quite the same as toilet hooch (I’m guessing) but it’s enough to put me in that Orange Is The New Black zone. But I don’t want to binge on this, largely because I have work in the morning, but also because I swallowed the first season in one night and ended up forgetting half of it. I’ll be responding to this season in dribs and drabs over the weekend, decompressing slightly after each episode, as this leather liquor swirls in my gullet and the weekend passes. Continue reading
Cut Copy’s Free Your Mind is less of an album and more of an auditory sermon. Some might think the overall uplifting message of the album is only mildly distinguishable from 70s drug odes inviting the withered masses to come get “higher.” Their work reads, to me, more like a nondenominational religious journey. Their shows feel like it, too. This weekend, at Terminal 5, I joined the cult of Cut Copy.
A few nights ago, a Brooklyn club hosted the Raw art party I wrote about here. Naturally, any art show is a magnet for the weird and fantastic. I met a lot of artists and saw and heard a lot of wonderful things, but I cannot possibly recount all of it, or this article would go on for-fucking-ever. Allow me to give you a hazy and incomplete rundown of the evening’s events, from the perspective of a sweaty fedora-wearing non-artist who can barely keep her eyes awake.
Look up. No, on the page, at the top, above Femme Fawkes. See that piece of art that looks vaguely like the top half of a head, with all those squiggly swirly things and intersecting lines with bits of color? That is my head, and the name of that art piece is called Internet Killed the Video Star, done by the incomparable vodkinista artiste Theresa E. Theresa E has a show in Brooklyn on Saturday June 19th: RAW presents KALEIDOSCOPE. Let me tell you why you are going to buy a ticket and come to the show.
Those of you familiar with Ryan Lewis and Macklemore’s anti-consumerist super hit “Thrift Shop” might not be aware that this blonde lyrical juggernaut has been in the music business for over ten years. In the mean time, he’s produced deeply personal and soulful rap songs, reflecting on his triumphs and struggles. He’s also produced a song written by unicorns to be performed at an audience of the Gods. That song is called “And We Danced.”
Surprises come in strange packages. Sometimes you think it isn’t worth watching a show based on the subject. After all, most people wouldn’t watch a show about something they’re not interested in. But history has showed, time and time again, that the more people broaden their horizons, the more they find happy surprises. A perfect example is the BBC juggernaut Top Gear.