The Sandman Comics and their spin-offs (particularly “Death: The High Cost of Living” , which refashioned Death as a quirky/adorable Gothette) were a staple in my teenage life. I, like other art freaks before me, had Delirium-style red hair (pre mohawk D, though) and wore Ankh necklaces. I almost got a tattoo of one big Ankh on my back (that would have been regrettable). But hey, Norman Mailor even liked them, so it’s not just a nerd thing. And now 20 years! And a special poster to boot!
Delirium: Space cadet extraordinaire/Tori Amos doppelganger/beloved muse of redhead art freaks who did too much acid.
The comic started in 1988, which is actually the year I sort of wished I had been 16–rather than the late 90’s. My Bauhaus sticker collection would have certainly been more in vogue. Alas. Here’s to the graceful aging of old goth culture mongers–Gaiman, Tim Burton, Siouxsie Sioux, etc.
Fuck Buttons at McCarren Pool this Sunday (picture courtesy of random flickr person ). Yes, that is a Gameboy he’s playing.
And also at McCarren, oh you Liars! What a homecoming back to Brooklyn! You have transcended your past just like I’ve grown out of those homemade tee-shirt dresses I used to wear. Or, as Wikipedia scribbles, “Although initially lumped into the New York post-punk revival scene of the early 21st century, they have come to be categorized by their dramatic stylistic shifts between albums, while retaining a consistent interest in rhythm and sound texture.”
Well then.
Meanwhile 2 questions came to mind during the Liars’ labor-intense set:
But has anybody noticed that the “kids” in Williamsburg look like Spacoli in Fast Times? Is WIlliamsburg the new LA?
Second Question–is Angus Andrews (of the Liars) the new Nick Cave? Or are all Australian noise-rock musicians just gangly and sexy/creepy?
Ok, that’s actually three questions, but I’m not a good consolidator.
Josh Peck and it-girl Olivia Thirby in The Wackness:(I had this dress in 1994 too!)
Last week Tyler and I went to see The Wackness,a coming-of-age story built almost entirely around nostalgia for 90’s zeitgeist. From The Notorious B.I.G. to the cheesy street slang white kids threw around (thankfully “Dope” has died out) to the baggy denim, it’s saturated with aesthetic references to the Clinton-era. And throwing in child star of that era MK (Mary Kate Olson, that is) is just the icing on the Millienials’ cupcake. Oh and I did I mention there are b&w screen Gameboys and Nintendo 64s? And no cellphones! People used landlines!
The movie–meh, take it or leave it. It’s a story that’s been told ten times before, albiet set in an era that we’re currently aching for a return to. However, I will note that watching the man who played Gandi (Sir Ben Kingsley) do lines of pharmaceuticals and get it on with aging Bond girl Famke Jenssen is both amusing and startling.
During the film I couldn’t stop thinking, “Where’s Telly?” The Wackness proves just how sanitized we have gotten in Bush’s America and post-Giuliani’s New York, as it’s essentially copping the aesthetic of KIDS, but neglects the nihilism of that film. It also ignores the horrifying and very real presence of AIDS. The sex scene even emphasizes the LACK of condom, which is very out of line with the AIDS awareness that was so prevalent in that time. Lastly it sorely lacks a Chloe Sevigny-type (Sorry Olivia, you are no Chloe). The Wackness is like KIDS redone by High School Musical folks, where the AIDS and heroin problems in NYC never existed…and Biggie never died.
However, The Wackness has reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to do for awhile: the 90’s countdown:
1. Positive Hip Hop
Man, was it never better for White People to feel rhythm and feel like there was hope for all races. Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets remind me of Lisa Bonet and, well, idealism. Then I went to a Jurassic Five show in 2000 in Philly and there were no black people to be found. Alas.
2. MTV’s arty dudes
First there were grunge’s slightly femme-y/usually dirty/always tortured but oh-so-sexy musicians toiling in front of us (Kurt, Trent, Gavin Rossdale). But even their non-music programming was full of these Hawkes (as in Ethan). From the The Real World in London (Neil!) to Chris Hardwick on Singled Out (dreamy!) to 120 Minutes‘ “I really need a cough drop” Matt Pinfield, MTV was a minefield of these sensitive dudes…not to mention all the nerdy-chic girls like VJs Kennedy and Karen Duffy, and later, Daria and Jane Lane of Daria around.
Of course that all kind of ended with Carson Daly.
Jordon Catalano. Rayanne Graff. Ricki. The dad that went to Grateful Dead shows.These people are like cousins to me.
4. Tetruson Gameboy: Even my mom was addicted.
5. Blossom’s flower hats, Joey’s “Woah!”
6. Jonny Lee Miller in Hackers and Trainspotting
7. TLC’s Lisa Left Eye Lopez’s condom eye patch: RIP Lisa!
8. Sam Goody’s or The Wall’s listening station: Um who wasn’t listening to the new Dishwalla–and not buying–it in 1997?
9. Wolf Blitzer covering the Gulf War–holy shit, there are bombs in back of him! Don’t die Wolfie!Oh wait, no one died in that war.
10. Prince as a Symbol/Marky Mark/Technotronic/”Heroin chic”/Lillith Fair/Discmans/Unplugged/Behind The Music/Angelina Jolie when she was a bi-curious badass/Elizabeth Wurtzel and her Prozac Nation/piercings up the entire ear/The Grind workout video/Meredith Baxter Birney-era Lifetime movies/pre-Parkinson Michael J. Fox/Leonardo DiCaprio before Titantic/laser discs/Jane cosmetics/Sassy magazine/Juliana Hatfield/trip hop/SPIN magazine when it didn’t suck/Britpop and the time when Damon Alburn was hot/Tony Blair’s first few years and all of “Cool Brittania”/the triumph of the Dollar/that dog on Frasier/tape singles for 1.99/PollyPockets/Pogs/20/20’s molestation special segments/Al Franken on Comedy Central/Dilbert/cheap Ecstasy/Jessie Spano turns into slut-McGee in Showgirls/Barney/glowsticks/Berlin’s LOVE PARADE/riot grrl/Gwen Stefani in “I’m just a girl”/Tori Amos channeling Kate Bush and not looking old yet/the anti-Globilization movement/AOL on dial-up/hackey sacks/snap bracelets/the second coming of Jellies (the sandal)/Clear Pepsi/Reviving Ophelia…
Ah, home from vacation. Back to work. Back to blog, etc.
Researching for work, I came upon my new favorite word: Obamacon. Now we all love a nifty word made up of an Obama-as-prefix, an “Obamism,” if you will. But this one is my fav. Why? Well, first of all if “conservative” can be in same realm, let alone the same TERM as “Obama” that’s a good thing, in regards to, oh, say winning an election (something Democrats haven’t been so good at recently). I’m a liberal, through and through (fuck religion! yay gays! save the poor!), but not everyone else is. That is the beauty of Obamania, that everyone–on the left, on the right, those liberal as fuck, conservative Catholics, and even retired generals (come on Colin Powell, endorse!)–can love the Barackstar.
Oh yeah and one more thing: Obamacon, it sounds like a robot. And I love robots. Agingsnob is snotty about most things culture (music, books, vegetables–broccolini over broccoli, thank you), but not about robots. Hence one of the reasons I went to see Wall-Ethis weekend, even braving the kiddie pool in Park Slope opening weekend. I’m almost astonished to say it is one of the most charming and beautiful films I’ve seen in quite some time. Some criticize the lack of any dialogue for the first hour. However, has anyone ever seen a classic children’s movie called The Red Balloon? Hmm. Or what about the sumptuously sweet and witty French animation film The Triplettes of Belleville? You can have a G-rated film without idiotic verbatim and children will still respond with laughter. So will adults as in the case of Wall-E.
Wall-E is visually spectacular (duh, it’s Pixar) but it’s the clever writing, reminiscent of early comedies of the 30’s ala Buster Keaton, that really make this movie such a joy to watch. Gina writes a great review, emphasizing just that, along with what a beautiful eco-lesson it is. Oh yeah, and uh, did I mention it’s a love story.
ROBOTS LOVING ROBOTS. How Daft Punk? Also, it’s notable that the female robot EVE (Eee-vaa) is the kick ass heroine of the story–smart, savvy, and yet feminine (really you never thought a robot giggle could be so adorable!). And because she’s a non-human (albeit one shaped a bit like something one might find at Good Vibrations…or the Apple Store), Disney didn’t force her into unrealistic babedom like that Pocohantas as Indian Barbie shit they pulled a few years ago. Bravo on all fronts!
Lastly, on this vacation o’ mine I checked out Crystal Castles live for the first time. Then, on the internets, I kept seeing reviews of the new Crystal Antlers album. Is Crystal the new Wolf? Discuss.
This is the kind of book that I sneer at (a coffee table book about underground music is almost as bad as a coffee table book about coffee tables) but actually am really excited about. Suicide! James Chance! DNA! Pictures of Eno hanging out producing while ”No New York“! Lydia Lunch ranting! Gah!
Lydia sums up her era like nobody else (go read rest of excerpt here):
Beneath the scowls of derision, the antagonism and acrimony, and the nearly unbearable shrillness that was our soundtrack, we were howling with delight, laughing like lunatics in the madhouse that was New York City, thrilled to be rubbing up against the freaks and other outcasts, who somehow, for some unknowable reason, had all decided to run to land’s end and all at once scream their bloody heads off.
Skip to 2008: Thurston getting a latte and rubbing up against the outcasts? Perhaps not. But Thurston is still cool, though. No, I’ll never knock Thurston on this blog. Speaking of Thurston, noise isn’t dead and his participation in the ongoing scene in the city proves it. A few years ago in a loft in Long Island City I saw my friend Dom of Prurient and Hospital Productions play a show with Thurston benefiting some hipster/noise-centric magazine. It was a heavy bill. I was mesmerzied by one band playing in particular: Magik Markers. Lead singer Elisa Ambrogio was like a hyperactive child crossed with a less sexed up Lydia Lunch and screamed and cowered simultaneously. Thankfully they have not faded into complete obscurity but have actually begun to put on some highly listenable albums. Here’s a track from their new album BOSS, produced by, of all people, Mr. Lee Renaldo.
I’m very, very, very into Fleet Foxes–a harmonious, chamber pop/neo-Freak Folk five-some from Seattle. In fact, they remind me very much of Seattle–pleasantly hip but hairy enough to be from the Northwest, natural but not without constructed elements, very 70’s looking and very joyful and soothing to be in (or listen to). Now, though I love Fleet Foxes even more as their label SubPop (that great 90’s label that just keeps getting better with the years, like wine or Gabrial Byrne) are offering a free download of “He Doesn’t Know Why” because of an error on Itoons. How nice! Seattlites are certainly nothing if not genuinely polite. And Agingsnob loves free things!
“Unicorns L.A” from my favorite new performance art troupe My Barbarians
Unicorn (noun): A term used to refer to a man who is so beautiful that he is neither gay nor straight, but otherworldly; often with regal air. (Coined by Claire Howard?) For example: “Roger Federer is a such a Unicorn!”
Planet Unicorn:
The Unicorns: popular band from the mid 00’s; now Islands
Sex positivity is not always all it’s cracked up to be.
Sometimes being sexually and intellectually free as a woman, or at least trying to be, can hurt like a bitch. No one expressed that better in pop music than Liz Phair did on EXILE IN GUYVILLE. I was late to Phair, but discovered her in my own indie-rock college youth. Like Phair shortly before she made this record a decade earlier, I was in art school (Phair went to Oberlin, a school perhaps even more obnoxious than my alma matter) and I was kinda slutty and kinda confused and had no idea why being “free” didn’t make me feel any better about myself or my body. I also felt that horrible feeling of being left out of the K-Records-style boys club because I was a girl and therefore had no valid musical opinions.
But you don’t have to have had an indie-as-fuck youth like mine or dealt with being left out of the “Mission of Burma or Wire?” kind of bullshit conversation insecure college boys in Converse have (”I STOPPED TALKING AN HOUR AGO”–see Bikini Kill’s “I Hate Danger” ) to understand what Phair was talking about. This album made feeling lonely (”Whatever happened to a boyfriend?/The kind of guy who tries to win you over?”) and angry (”I love my live/And I hated you”) ok. It was a sympathetic voice to all young women finding themselves in post-sexual revolution culture. Remember that time? When you were one part femme fatale (”Because I take full advantage/ of every guy I meet”) and four parts vulnerable …and it was all a mess. Yeah, Phair, she just got that. And then made one of the most important indie rock albums of all time.
Says Phair herself on the album:
I’ll just get really honest with you right now,” she says. “I was pretty good in bed at that point from the point of view of what the guys wanted, but pretty bad in terms of my own enjoyment. And yes, that made me angry. But it was my own fault in some sense.” As she matured into real sexual confidence, she says, the anger faded — in real life and in her music.
Looking back at Exile in Guyville, Phair sees a young woman struggling to establish some kind of control over her own life. “I kind of hear how unhappy I was. It makes my heart go out to the person I was,” she says. “It’s so clear to me now how unsure I was and how vulnerable I really was.”
It’s an album that hasn’t aged a bit, despite the very 120 minutes/My So-Called Life aesthetic of the videos and the art. Go listen to Liz Phair’s KICKASS interview on NPR about the 15th anniversary re-release of the seminal album. I’m gonna quote a dear friend here who says it even better than me:
I was a freshman in high school when this came out. All of a sudden there was this album where this awesome girl was feeling the same things I was. She wanted to understand sex, but she also wanted to understand it for HER. She felt like she made some shitty mistakes, and that she would keep on making them. She was inexplicably sad about something that seemed to be missing in her life, and she was explicitly sad about what she saw about her future as a woman. It was so refreshing to hear someone else get angry about the things that I felt angry about, and, finally, to have my anger, as an emotion, be validated. Someone else thought that it was okay to be difficult, it was okay to ask tough questions, it was okay to make demands and to want and feel things, that, as a girl (or a “lady”), I wasn’t supposed to want and feel. Life altering stuff.
Life altering indeed!
(Buzzworthy! Can you believe MTV showed shit like this at one time?)
