A blog about nothing in particular. It's not educational or informative (well maybe a little bit?), nor does it use proper grammar/punctuation; but dear gawd, i hope it's entertaining.
I've been thinking a lot about our part as citizens in this country and how incredibly apathetic Americans have been for over 50 years. Since then there have been baby steps toward banning together in an organized fashion to initiate change and demand respect, but most attempts fall short of getting people excited and then letting them down. What happened J? However, recently there has been an influx of passionate causes that are no longer sitting down and allowing for "whatever happens happens, man."
I'm getting old. Not the sexy, wise cougar old. The senile, drooling babbling kind of old. For a week I've been patiently observing my rapid deterioration and for a week I have slumped into a deeper and deeper state of depression and hopelessness. No! Nay! Don't try and stop this spiraling crazy (yes, I am referring to myself), just let it happen.
I'm not sure if I've ever written about this but I'm pretty sure I haven't. Last night I went out with some coworkers and awaited to hear comments I knew were brewing behind curious eyes. Bar settings seem to be a breeding ground for socially-charged conversation that is normally a little uncomfortable/awkward? The conversation got interesting when we started talking about guys, what type of guys we were into and other fun dating-related subject matter. When I tell people my "preference"it doesn't seem to be met with too much surprise, but it is met with unbridled assumption that I somehow hate myself or think I'm disconnected from my heritage, which is I assure you not the case. It's an understandable conclusion to draw, but it simply is not true. However, this was not what got under my skin. What really irritated me is the notion that every single black person is a spokesperson for their entire race. I was asked why a lot of gay black men prefer white men. Um. Ok. I have no idea. Number one I am not a gay black man, but even if I was there is no possible way for me to conceive the thoughts and actions of all gay black men no matter how smart or informed I thought I was. I honestly enjoy talking about race, but in a situation like this with a presumptuous (unintentional I know) leaning it's hard to have a desire to continue the discourse.
I had a conversation with one of my friends about how the world perceives me and my ongoing battle with my indifference towards the world's perception. I am me. I can be no one else and considering how short life is I don't want to be anyone else. It's too hard to conform when conforming means losing yourself. And I'm not saying by any means that I'm "different" or "better" in any way shape or form. All I'm saying is that I can be nothing else or more than who I am. It's devastating to realize that individuality is a privilege- a privilege denied to many, many people. My face is suppose to represent every African American person (not even just women apparently) without question or doubt. My utterances carry the weight of my entire race- my history, my ancestors, strangers, people I know, people I'll never meet, people who hate me, people who love me, etc. You get it. Imagine having THAT much pressure on yourself every day you present yourself to the world.
I forget not everyone took race/sociology classes in college and aren't aware of certain societal constructs, rules, stupid "normalcy" that we're taught oh so subtlety. So I am by no means mad at this person for asking me such a loaded question, more disheartened by the reality that most people see nothing wrong with asking questions like that in mixed company... or ever really.
Battling for months with this ongoing uneasiness with life and where I want to be and who I want to be and all that existential garbage prone to a paranoid, absurdly self-aware, judgmental being, I have finally concluded that I need to "Just Do It."* Not only does this apply to my career, but to everything in life. For too long I've been scared to just leap into something without knowing exactly what the outcome will be and not fearing it wholeheartedly with the nerves of a tadpole. So in my continuous attempts to better my situation I shall try a different approach. No more excuses, no more talking, no more half-assed attempts, it's game time. I got my helmet on, and I look ridiculous but I don't care. Complaining about things is starting to wear on my nerves, and I'm sure my friends would not be completely opposed to never hearing me say, "I need to get outta there," ever again. Sorry guys. Also, I really need to focus time on creativity. I haven't written anything decent in months... Infuriating writer's block is to blame for this horrid dry spell. However, so is laziness and apathy, two emotions I've been all to found of for the last few weeks. It's so easy to just not care. It's so easy to just let things happen and not focus on goals. Goals. What a scary word. It has so many weird, complex connotations. It means so much, but can also be so fleeting. Anyway, I need to dedicate time to doing something I've grown to love beyond words haha get it... cuz it's writing. Sigh. Clinging to that ounce of passion I know is floating around in me somewhere I've got to get my drive back. I also think I need to get out of the city for a little bit to help me put things in perspective. I feel like with the constant motion of Brooklyn and Manhattan it's definitely easy to loose a little bit of yourself amongst all the flashing lights, all the moody people, all the sounds. I need to go somewhere not so... loud- all that racket- yes, I'm 85.
Well thanks for reading everyone, I really do appreciate you taking the time out to read my narcissistic indulgences.
Story of my life.
***Let it be known I denounce any affiliation with Nike, for obvious political/moral reasons. Damn them for creating such a relevant tag line.***
My mother was in town which put an abrupt halt to the festivities last weekend was to entail. At first I was a little irritable, as EVERYONE decided to have parties that very weekend, but the feeling was fleeting because well my mom's awesome. Sigh. She bought me enough food to feed a third world country and enough paper products to stock an elementary school for a year. In her absence, I have been feeling a pang of homesickness that has not shown itself EVER. However, the sickness is not really for home, but for my family, though the warm Miami weather does not hurt.
Anyway, enough about that. I want to talk about meeting people online. At first the entire concept horrified me, made me want to runaway screaming, bleeding from the eyes... I've been watching way too many horror movies...ok, just Pan's Labyrinth.
Anyway, the whole idea of meeting up with people on the internet has been instilled in us since we were young as being not only dangerous but incredibly stupid. However, sometime within the last 5-10 years this idea shifted from "DON'T EVER DO IT!" to, "Eh, if they don't seem too psychotic and you meet in a public place, I guess it's alright." What made this change? Obviously the social media explosion and our dying ability to go out and meet people in person- COLD, with no chitty chat behind the comfort of your computer screen before hand. Though, it's convenience is not to be ignored. Like I said in an earlier post, it's hard to meet people, but by being online some of that nasty pressure is relieved and gives a bit more leeway for honesty, or straight up lying. Sigh. I guess that argument can truly go both ways- a blessing and a curse. It's interesting to see whether or not any lasting relationships will come of it... in my case. I have friends that have found significant others online, but my curiosity lies in the question of "Can you make friends online?" We shall see, I suppose. Ought to be interesting. Hope I don't get killed in the process.
Random Note: I would like to thank Portlandia and, subsequently, YouTube for turning me on to Washed Out and Air France. Also, I would like to thank my upstairs neighbors for being kind enough to lend their Internet for a bit. Thank you. Adieu.
He stood with his back to the bar watching patrons drink and talk about subjects submerged under sober uneasiness and pride. The clinking of glasses irritated him, but also excited him in a familiar way. The sounds of nighttime always allayed his loneliness. Knowing others came to the bar to escape the unrelenting fate of solitude, he sighed with relief and scanned the room for the next person he would escape with. When he first started his job he was reluctant to introduce himself to pretty girls, sure that behind their kind eyes lurked only the inscrutable desire for attention and a free shot. Quickly learning that they were eager to offer more than their attention, he felt no harm in indulging in fleshy validation. Growing numb with every encounter and regretful with every number tossed away he began to fall into a blissful nothingness.
Music echoed loudly through the speakers. Girls danced provocatively only to get guys' attention, shaking and gyrating unspeakable wants. Guys salivated over the knowing motions and clumsily attempting to get attention by laughing too loudly and pushing each other. He watched with amusement this weekly charade in which he never partook. Then he saw her. She had been watching him from across the room, patiently waiting for him to notice her. He did. A panic came over him, paralyzing him. It was her. A girl. The girl? He had been with so many he could not be sure.
It was a night like any other when he met her. Immediately writing her off as an easy target, a notch in his bedpost, a girl to conquer and leave abandoned. Though she was different from the rest, uneasy in her approach, unsure of her fingertips that lightly brushed his arm. An unrecognizable timidity crossed her face when she laughed at his awful jokes and smiled innocently at his mundane, cliched compliments. Her eyes penetrated him when they exchanged anecdotes, she peered into a place he was so far removed from he knew it didn't exist. Yet he went through with the selfish, debilitating act. She woke up next to him in the morning and her presence startled him. Usually he opened his eyes to an empty room and a warm spot where a nameless victim previously laid. Demurely pulling up his sheets to her glowing body, she grinned at him with unknowing- purity. He felt sick. Telling her he had to be somewhere soon he feigned agitation as he glanced at the clock by his bed that read 10 AM. Without saying much, she moved quickly, repeatedly apologizing to him, dressed and left, but not before giving him the warmest, most sincere kiss he'd ever received since he moved to the city from his small town. In that single kiss he remembered who he had been and what he had become. She left. He looked in the mirror, trying to see that place she saw. He had been withdrawn for so long he forgot who he was. His face looked haggard and old. Dark circles ringed his eyes- black pools of malcontent and horror. He almost screamed. What had he done? What had he been doing? All these girls. All these people. He began washing his face, gently at first then feverishly, rubbing his face raw, trying to scrub away himself. In his search for affirmation he abandoned thought, feelings, reason. These girls were nothing but meaningless shells in which to hide his vulnerability. With every girl he marginalized he lost a piece of his humanity, a multitude of self-respect. He began to resent them, the girls. They never gave him want he wanted, what he needed. They were instant gratification, fleeting validation, false hope. But in one kiss he saw what he had been suppressing for as long as he could remember, but made a great effort to forget. And until tonight he thought he had.
The music all of a sudden got too loud. The charade on the dance floor turned into a frantic, impassioned fight amongst the sexes, then a mindless, erratic orgy. He felt dizzy. Nauseated. The room spun and he ran to the bathroom past eager faces clutching dollar bills, anxious for another drink, past lusting eyes, past apathy, past fear, past loathing, past everything and everyone that reminded him of himself. He let go of all the guilt, the pain, the anger, the bitterness, staring at it mildly, swirling around in a bowl of indifference. He felt better. Much better.
He sauntered back to the bar, holding himself gently. She stood in front him yet seemed so distant. He looked at her. She looked at him pitifully. He was pathetic, she thought, yet felt a pang of what she didn't know. Maybe it was understanding- or affection. Shuddering nervously, embarrassed by the thought of their passionless night together, she finally broke the awkward silence.
"Hi. How've you been." She had to lean over the bar so he could hear her speak.
"Fine." He lied. She knew he was lying. He looked down at his feet. She smelled how she smelled the night they first met.
"Um," she paused, he looked up imploringly, "Can I get a whiskey ginger?" He stared at her unable to comprehend what she said then finally replied,
"Sure. Yeah," he gave it to her, "It's on me." He said those words, pleading for her forgiveness. She refused his charity and his apology. She finished her drink at the bar, staring into his eyes as she gulped, the whiskey and carbonation burning her throat sweetly. She put the glass down. Waiting a moment, she pierced him again with her eyes. She kissed him. He could taste the whiskey and ginger on her cool lips. His eyes closed, she pulled away, put her money on the bar and left. He stood awe-struck. The music played. He never saw her again.
Not literally. I mean, that's just blind hostility. I'm dedicating a post to this new Cee Lo song because it's incredible. Every once in a while the mainstream will be blindsided by ridiculous talent and forced to realize the ever-deteriorating state of the music industry and its notoriously awful superstars. Every time Cee Lo comes out with something it's refreshing and just so darned good. This song in particular has me stupidly singing along and wanting to listen to it over and over again despite my aversion to listening to songs on repeat... it kinda drives me nuts. With this upbeat tempo and catchy, not to mention controversial, lyrics Cee Lo has once again blown my mind and relieved me of the insurmountable stress that has been accumulating in the past few weeks. Thank you, Cee Lo. Music is such a wonderful thing... when it's done right.
SO GOOD. Karaoke anyone?!
This is also exciting.
Ugh. sigh.
I LOVE YOU.
image from americansongrwriter.com
I need this album! I don't think I've been excited about an album in a while...
Am I the only one a little weirded out by how young pop-stars are getting? This whole fascination with young people and the media has always been an uncomfortable, ongoing trend in our culture. Recently, though it has come to a head with the introduction of a tiny spitfire with the predilection to "whip her hair back and forth." Nine-year old Willow Smith has been getting a lot of attention from her fun, poppy song about feeling good and not caring about what "haters" have to say. Though, the song is extremely catchy, her entire persona leaves you wondering, what else can she possibly sing about at the tender age of 9. Also, who are these haters she's talking about and why exactly is she whipping her hair back and forth, it seems dangerous. All the whipping going on in the video makes it seem like the song is causing some sort of seizure plague. I know someone had to have gotten whiplash.
Being so young, it must be difficult to connect to an audience who's not concerned with who has the most silly bands or who caught the latest episode of Yo Gabba Gabba! I'm just trying to understand the logical trajectory of her career. She is going to have to wait a few years before she can belt out number one hits about love, love lost, crazy partying and growing up...I mean at least 13. Look at the Biebs, he's getting away with singing about love and how old is he? 15, right? Whatever. All I'm saying is she's going to have to get a few more years of life experience before she can join the ranks of other questionable, mind-numbing artists like Selena Gomez and The Jonas Brothers. Are they even her peers? Oh geez. Well, lucky her, if she decided to heed my advice and go on hiatus from her booming singing career she can start up acting like her brother, Jaden, though he probably won't like her interfering with his "shtick." I can only imagine the fighting that would ensue if Willow announced her desire to be an actress.
"Daaaaad, Willow won't stop stealing my roles in movies."
"I can't help it if casting directors like me better than you."
"You know, you're hair isn't even real in that music video."
"Oh yeah, well you're face isn't real." Willow sticks her tongue out at her irritated brother. Then, Will steps in, "You two need to stop fighting, your mother and I are trying to discuss how we can train your future baby brother or sister for Cirque."
Jaden and Willow look at each other, eyebrows raised in understanding and the argument ends. -and scene-
I'm extremely curious to see what will happen next with Willow Smith. I know I'm not the only one. Hmmmmm.....
I wonder if my 7-year old sister would be opposed to recording a song about how much she enjoys the park... we could make millions! Then again, my mother would probably disown me... unless I made it seem like it was her idea. INCEPTION.
You can see the actual video on her website. She's freaking adorable.
Just because I don't say anything
Doesn't mean I don't like you
I open my mouth and I try and I try
But no words came out
Without 40 ounces of social skills
I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity
I'm just a huge manatee
A huge manatee
And besides, you're probably holding hands
With some skinny, pretty girl
That likes to talk about bands
And all I want to do is ride bikes with you
And stay up late and watch cartoons
DuckTales, Shirt-Tails, TaleSpin, Sailor Moon
GI Joe, Robotech, Ron Jeremy, Shmoo
I want to watch cartoons with you
Josie and the Pussycats and Scooby-Doo
I want you to watch cartoons with me
He-man, Voltron, and Hong Kong Phooey
I tried to ask you to your face
But no words came out
Put on my hood and walked away
That doesn't mean I don't like you
And besides you're probably holding hands
With some skinny pretty girl
That likes to talk about bands
And all I want to do is ride bikes with you
And stay up late and maybe spoon
Just because I don't say anything
Doesn't mean I don't like you, no
I opened my mouth and I tried and I tried
And besides, you're probably holding hands
With some skinny pretty girl
That likes to talk about bands
And all I want to do is ride bikes with you
And stay up late and watch cartoons
I'm just your average Thundercats ho!
This song just about sums up my last failed attempt at dating. Alright, so it's a bit of a stretch and I'm taking some liberties. Eh, it's close enough ha
I have been trying to expand my musical inclinations to extend beyond the current Indie trend of bands like Hot Chip, Yeasayer, MGMT, Grizzly Bear, etc. Realizing that my hip hop knowledge is embarrassingly limited, I have decided to search for more artists besides Mos Def, Talib Kweli, and Nas. I haven't begun just as yet so I won't be name dropping any new mcs until after my research is over. However, the real reason I'm writing today is to talk about this ongoing trend of people who don't like rap music, calling it crap. I remember in middle school I fancied myself an avid "rock and roller," and along with my peers, felt it necessary to say "rap is crap." Looking back now, it was only childhood naivety. I have since overcome my hasty judgment of rap music. Nowadays, though when people my age take such a passionate stance against rap music, purely on a nonsensical bases, stating that none of the songs make sense and sound "bad," I get really irritated. For instance, I googled "rap music" and this image came up
The image is from laughitout.com. I think we all know who the true idiots are ^ ahem^.
When I talk about certain artists, I'm more likely to call their music hip hop and not rap because of the varying connotations of each word. Alright, here's where it gets a little fuzzy. In my mind rap is more beat based, not focusing too much on lyrical ingenuity, but music you can get down to. Hip hop is more intellectual, explicating problems of daily life, with more of an experimental element to it. Here are some examples: Rap to me sounds like Cash Money Millionaires, Nelly, Ghostface Killah, etc. Hip Hop sounds like Jay-Z, Pharrell, The Roots, Jurassic 5, etc. I can be totally wrong, but these are my interpretations of the words and of course there are exceptions, but that's my general comprehension. Rap music has gotten a bad rep, considering its sordid history with unapologetic sexism, homophobia, and in some cases predilection for violence. It is what it is. I used to get upset with certain rappers for talking about women in such a foul, despicable context, but I can't let some stranger singing about stupidity get under my skin. Although, I understand the arguments about young people listening to the music and being influenced by what they hear, I always consider "What about their parents?" Music is entertainment, and if parents are upset by what their kids are listening to or nervous about them developing unsavory mentalities then they should talk to them about it. Get more involved. People love to blame outside forces for their own imprudence. Musicians are entertainers, not role models but people get them confused, which causes lots of problems.
photo taken from smc.edu
I totally pulled this picture out of context from an article asking if rap music had a negative impact on young people. Oddly enough, the question was posed by someone named Chris. Most of the comments are really vapid. Here's the link if you wanna check it out.
Maybe I'll get into country music too... Nah. I do like some country music though! I'm not saying all of it is horrible, though a majority of what I hear I am not a fan of, but no longer will I say, "I like all genres of music, except country," because that's just like grouping every rapper/hip hop artists together without rhyme or reason and making an uninformed, blanketed judgment- not cool. So begins my quest... my journey if you will, into the depths of underground hip hop. If you don't hear from me in 48 hours... it's because my mind's been blown and I'm immobilized by the music. Ha... we'll see about that.
Music that has recently become more meaningful to me due to certain events and such.
Directed by Eric Wareheim. Edited by Ben Berman. Produced by Clark Reinking.
Saw MGMT perform this song live and felt the most inexplicable euphoria.
After hearing this song on the Adult Swim game, Robot Unicorn Attack, I was instantly hooked. Thanks, Dan Garzi.
I like the Yeasayer stuff played at Urban, but when I heard their first album- SOLD. Love it. As a wise man once said, "It's more organic than their newer stuff." I totally dig it.
I mean, I freaking love Passion Pit. Possibly my favorite band right now.
And here's a link to a sweet, soft rendition of that fist pumper performed by Michael Angelakos
Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, home is wherever I'm hearing you.
I remember hearing this song at urban and then discovering one of my friends put it on a mix she made for me, thanks Laura Lo!
And finally this amazing video for Hot Chip, which is irritatingly unable to be embedded, but here's the link!
Since moving to Brooklyn, I have not gone out nearly enough to Manhattan to discover gems of note- until recently. With my friend Nish, much adventuring was underway earlier this week. We walked around the city for hours- HOURS, and were pleasantly surprised by many different shops and such we stumbled (not literally) into. One place in particular that had a really great vibe was Pinisi Bakery that has a few locations around the city. We had some delicious cupcakes there after eating dollar pizza- health schmealth, and were very satisfied. The bakery is adorable and has couches in the back along with a bookshelf with many different titles- you can even learn Russian! The feel is reminiscent of an artist's living room, devoid of that sterile, conventional, corporate callousness of starbucks. There's original artwork on the walls and they painted the florescent lighting panels with pretty primary colors. Also, the guys working there were very friendly.
Before that we went to a small book store on 1st with a great women's studies and political theory section. Of course, I have forgotten the name of the bookstore, but when I'm not feeling completely and utterly lazy I'll look it up and post its whereabouts/website.
So, remember my aversion to the lower east side? I'm kind of over it. I had an awesome time hanging out down there so I have since changed my staunch stance (hehe) on it. Though it is filled with insensitive idiots, there is a really cool scene there as a whole. Maybe cool's not the word for it- um, interesting. Yes, there's a fascinating collective of people/ideas in the lower east side- a conflicting mass of bigotry and "liberalism." We (my friend and I) experienced this amorphous, confused reality when we were at a bar dancing around like fools. It was interesting seeing who would approach us, who stared at us in amusement and terror, and who avoided us. There was one guy in particular that was wasted and probably on numerous drugs who felt the need to tell us, "If you can't dance to rock music, then you can't dance. You have to be able to dance to every type of music." Mind you this was after the DJ (who was shitty that night) was playing bands like Empire of the Sun, Passion Pit, and even some hardcore- but mostly he played horrible 80s music that was not made to be played at a dance party. Anyway, he said this and we stared at him in disbelief, realizing he was drunk and an idiot. He then proceeded to ask us how to dance like "black people," when a hip-hop song came on. This guy was a true asshole, completely oblivious to the ignorance pouring out of his mouth. It's annoying to be in a situation like that because you really are powerless. This guy was intoxicated so no amount of reason was going to permeate that thick skull of his, we were just trying to ignore his insults and continue our fun. Luckily, as the universe would have it, he was an awful dancer and had been flailing around the dance floor like a madman, bruising himself in the process and without aid showed his ugly insides through his grotesque dancing style-buffoon. I don't like to judge people when they're dancing, but when they admit ignorance willfully I let myself go. It's funny because he swore he was lord of the dance.
It's so frustrating running into people who are so small-minded. I've been around such amazing people, I forget those foolish people exist. It was depressing. I'm over it though, there's no way I'm letting one person make me lose hope in humanity (I almost did that night haha).
Okay, I have just shamelessly jumped on the bandwagon. It's mildly embarrassing admitting my instant predilection for what I thought was an 11 year old, but look at him! He's adorable. He's singing about adorable teeny bopper things, how could you not tilt your head to the side and sigh in amusement. Plus, the song "Baby"(below) is just so catchy! Ugh. Where did he even come from?!
(twilight zone music)
According to Wikipedia (my Bible), he's from Canada, 15, and was discovered on youtube by Scooter Braun, who flew him to Georgia to consult with Usher (about what, I have no idea!). Bieber was then signed to Island records. His first album was released last November and it's called My World. He is "the only artist in Billboard history to have four singles from a debut album chart in the Top 40 of the Hot 100 before the album's release." How lucky is this kid?! He's already collaborated with Usher and Ludacris! Insanity.
Without further adieu here is the cutest video EVER...
On Saturday night, I dragged my friend from VA and my friend who just relocated back to Brooklyn to The Bell House for an event called CHERYLYMPIX. According to the facebook invite I got, Cherylympix is...
CHERYL (the dance party that will ruin your life) invites you to curl your hair, hurl your disco balls, and streamline your body with an ergonomic, aerodynamic padded flesh tone luge suit. Fall face down on the skeleton track and thrust your body through hyperspace in .00000238 seconds in the direction of the Bell House for the largest compulsive compulsory competititive LIFE exhibition on this side of GoGo.
CHERYLYMPIX events commence with the traditional mannequinhand torch running, opening ceremony with 1,000 tiny native GoGo children, and the annual kozy shack eating championships. Additional events include inappropriate javelin thrusts, breath holdings, and the face smashing playoffs.
Then there was a link to this...
(yes, it was that amazing)
So my friends and I sat around my apartment for several minutes trying to figure out how the hell to get there. After realizing our trip would take an hour and a half using trusty ol MTA, we decided on a cab. We finally got there and to my dismay the bar seemed devoid of activity. Looking nervously at my two friends hoping they would forgive me for bringing them to the lamest party ever, we stepped further inside. We ordered some drinks and started heading towards the back of the bar, and that's when I saw it. The golden gates. There was an entire other room! A sigh of relief escaped my lips and my friends and I headed into the dark room with the colorful flashing lights and loud music. The venue is a great size. Not too big, but not a claustrophobic's nightmare. It's actually very beautiful inside, but you couldn't really tell with all the lights out and an innumerable amount of people grinding on each other. There's a stage right in front of you when you walk in and plenty of standing room for dancing. A bar stood towards the back wall and another was elevated left of the stage. There were couches littered around the edges of the room where one could sit and take a breather from the massive pulsing crowd. The music was excellent: yeah yeah yeahs, cut copy, CHROMEO. Dancing was indisputable, there were no options, your feet were required to move. We danced all night! The only negative thing I have to say about the experience was the horrible transportation. Because it was the weekend, the trains were running at unreasonable hours. After we left we had a small squabble with an asshole cab driver that insisted on running the meter without knowing how to get to our destination. My friend loudly voiced her discontent, consequently getting us thrown out of the taxi. It was one of the funniest/ most absurd things I ever witnessed. The cabby was truly a piece of work. With spirits high, and the adrenaline (amongst other things) from hours of dancing still pumping through our veins we set off to take the subway- that didn't work. We wound up even further away and elected to take a cab after a pit stop at D and D. America runs on dunkin- apparently.
Saturday night was epic, consisting of fortified wine (cisco. you know the deal)and friends. I totally recommend The Bell House ( a bar/venue) for all your entertainment needs.
I think I'm in love. The place just oozes with fun. On all the walls, encircling the dance floor are speakers. Hanging intimidatingly from the ceiling, enticing sounds bursting out of them reverberating off the walls, into you. It was almost impossible to stay still in there, yet people did just that. Most of the crowd seemed like a slow moving lump of boredom. Entreating people to dance, Andrew WK blasted faster, bass-filled tunes, yelling every so often about partying hard because we were in NYC. You know how Andrew loves to party. However, the crowd was not having it. People were not as into the music as would be expected, but it was still fun to just be there and be entranced by the lights and music. There were a few people there trying to break out and party hard like in the song, but they were looked at strangely by others so there intensity decreased and they were reduced to emotionless drones. I'm exaggerating, but you get my point. There was an mc who was a a guy in a costume- a suit with a huge yellow balloon for a head, was just walking up and down this strip that was laid out in front of the stage like a catwalk, rapping and/or yelling random things into the microphone. Because of the way the costume was constructed, the guy's actual face was in the middle of the suit, so it was really bizarre seeing him lift the microphone to his chest to speak. Freaky.There were also a few guys dressed like secret service agents hovering around him the entire time. Needless to say, I was completely and utterly confused by what was going on. Then abruptly, the balloon head popped and the secret service agents rolled up the catwalk and nothing was mentioned. I thought maybe I dreamed it.
I came in late (it's becoming a frightening trend) so I only saw one other performer besides Jonte, Cherie Lily, who at first I was skeptical of- probably because I was still recovering from the balloon man, but then she won my heart. She was really fun! Her adorable American Apparel work-out outfit didn't hurt. Her music reminded me of vogueing music: very fast, with few, easily memorable lyrics so the audience can sing along. She had this one song called "Get Sweaty," where she basically yells about getting wet and sweaty. It was fabulous. Here's a horrible quality youtube video of her performance of it from another night...
I love when her and the dancers go crazy at the end!
JONTE Need I say more? He was incredible! He and his dancers came out wearing these intricate black jumpsuits fit with a monitor on the crouch. When they came out the monitors had beating hearts on them, then when he performed another song there was a loop of him yelling into the camera, so it was like their crouches were yelling at the audience. Jonte is a performer in every meaning of the word. His stage presence is undeniable. His choreography is crisp and together- all the time! I love when he perfomed "Bitch You Betta" because the entire place was filled with such great energy and everyone knew the lyrics. Unfortunately, during his set he realized his headset mike wasn't working so he had to pick up a hand-held and dance with it, but he didn't flinch at all. He knew exactly what to do, like a true performer, he improvised and solved the issue. It was an amazing show. I didn't even mean to go last night, it was totally spur of the moment. Oh what a pleasant surprise. Here's a picture I got with the beautiful quality of the iPhone-ugh.
And here's my all time favorite video of his...
I may be slightly biased because my friend Jade taught me the dance. LOVE IT!
I'm bored. I feel like I should update. But I don't really have a topic, just some random thoughts... here we goooo!
Ed Norton is mentioned in a Tribe Called Quest Song. Now I love him even more.
Also love Tribe Called Quest even more.
I'm starting to submit my writings to different places! Yay!
I'm so proud of my friend who started a publishing company and wrote a freaking book! Big ups! Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End He's also on Twitter: novalpublishing Get it.
My roommate and I are are discussing a joint venture involving band reviews and recruiting bands for his label. HOW FREAKIN SWEET IS THAT?! So keep an eye out for some awesomeness.
I love old Taking Back Sunday I don't care who knows it!!
oh em geeee eeeeek!!! haha. oh boy. i love how "gun" is censored. stupid.
Going to Jersey tonight.
I got home from work at 3 am. this morning. I definitely need a new gig.
A few weeks ago I trekked down to icky Georgetown from the comfort of my friend's place near Adams Morgan to go see a woman perform I knew nothing about in the basement of a very snazzy building. I hopped on the bus, not really knowing what to expect. As I walked up to the building I remembered I had been outside of it before, sitting on a bench across from its grand entrance, getting distracted by the ostentatious architecture and wondering who the hell designed such an extravagant building. Thanks to Wikipedia now I know, Gert Wingårdh and Tomas Hansen. Awesome. I walked up to it and entered the lobby, a little intimidated by the large windows and high ceilings. The guard looked at me and smiled as I timidly asked where the concert was held. They directed me downstairs where I descended this beautifully crafted floating staircase down to a level where a miniature, very shallow indoor pond sat inconspicuously. I had to do a double take. I'm lucky I didn't fall in. EXAGGERATING. I think there was railing there haha, but you just don't expect to see something like that inside! Well, when you enter such a magical place anything goes I suppose. Finally I made my way into the small room set up with tables where people sat leisurely drinking as they watched this woman perform. I came in late. What else is new. So I stood in the back, but had a very decent view because the room was so small. The first thing I thought when I saw her was, "Oh no. I almost forgot my aversion to female singers. I hope this doesn't suck." Sofia Talvik was phenomenal. Her voice was beautiful. It was only her and another guy with a guitar, but their sound was so strong. Not overpowering, but filled with emotion that swept over you like a serenely thoughtful wave, calming yet stirring. She uses repetition a lot and usually I feel like repetition's a cop out, but there are artists who have mastered the art and make it their own, Sofia is one of those artists. Her song Burning Fields which you can download for free at www.worldsound.com/free/sofia was actually one of my favorite songs. A bit depressing, but you know how I'm into that ish. I must say she does sound slightly better live, but I'm not disappointed by the sound at all. She was so endearing on stage, not an ounce of an ego, just so sweet. She kept encouraging pepole to stay and talk to her after her set. Her new album is called Jonestown, named after the horrible massacre. That song is also really beautiful in a painfully, heart wrenching way. You can hear that song on her website. Everyone's always crying about getting new music, so check her out! Sofia Talvik
Since moving up here, I popped my Jammin Java cherry. It's a small venue in Vienna, perfect for that coffee-house like vibe some artist embody, and apparently for some crazy partying. I have yet to experience the latter, maybe tonight?
Anyway, on this particular night As Tall As Lions was headlining, a band steeped in heartfelt lyrical melodies, sweet subtle nuances, and surprising power. Their songs reverberate with you long after the record is off, something that is absent in a lot of bands right now. They took the stage after a band I can't remember the name of, immediately the audience began fidgeting, moving closer to the stage, buzzing with anticipation. Then they began playing. There were a few songs I was looking forward to hearing, but their entire turned out to be really good. Minus a few sound issues, the entire set was awesome. The second song they played, Ghost of York, was one of my favorites off of their self-titled album, and I was quickly partial to the live version. There was one song that entire night, though, that stuck with me the most- Stab City. The instrumental beginning of the song lulls you and Dan Nigo's voice meshes into the music, a fluid infusion of human expression and soft electronica. Then his voice breaks away from the fluidity creating this shock, a perturbation in the lullaby, making the song poignant and powerful. It was beautifully done. The energy of the entire band was contagious, especially the bassist, Julio Tavarez. He was really in every song, feeling the music. No silly persona, but someone who genuinely enjoyed the music he was playing. Their new live band addition Duncan Tootill on trumpet was also uninhibited, sweet notes echoing through brass. Robb Parr on the keys, head bobbing intuitively to the music. The drummer, Cliff Sarcona, was poised yet out of control, banging energetically in every song. The guitarist, Saen Fitzgerald stoically poised, subtly moving to the music. How people in the audience could contain their composure is an anomaly. These guys really know how to put on a show and play some killer music. It also doesn't hurt that they're just great people, living their dream. Two of the band members actually have a side project called Apres Vous, a novel concept- improvisational performance, sounds awesome. As Tall As Lions is a band you should definitely check out. But don't take my word for it. Here's a taste.
