the year-end list

Dark Allies at the CMJ event at the New Museum by Altered Zones (may the rest in peace)

I'm holding off on pulling together a "best of" 2011 album list until later this week. But I had the itch to create a playlist for the end of the year ... not something to play at a new year's eve party unless you really want it to sound like the third act of a John Hughes movie. Anyway, it's a lot of new stuff I've been listening to for the past week or so. And it's all awesome.

Enjoy.

http://www.mediafire.com/?wqgnnhvi6dqp5yz

The December List

(Dive, performing "Sometime" at Altered Zones' CMJ show at the New Museum)

So this is my playlist for December. Predictably heavy on melancholy synth dreamscapes. Some old, some new-ish, all fairly awesome.

Here's the link: http://www.mediafire.com/?r80ack3ofqx9euz

Not sure how the zip ended up sequencing the tracks, but here's the recommended order:

- Dust Cloud (Justin K. Broadrick Remix), Bear in Heaven
- Shells, Dreams West
- A Certain Someone, Light Asylum
- Sometime, Dive
- Strawberry Skies, Games
- Romantic Streams, Sleep Over
- French Letter, Bon Accord
- Deerfield Village, Rangers
- Keen on Boys, The Radio Dept.
- Mind, Drips, Neon Indian
- Local Joke (Neon Indian Cover), Millionyoung
- First Time, Soft Circle

Drive

I caught Drive, Danish director Nicholas Winding Refn’s hollow confection of a caper film, at Nitehawk, the new movie theater in Williamsburg. It’s a hipster’s concept of movie-going, with high end bar food and cocktails available to nibble and sip during the feature. There was something so fitting about ironically chomping down on nachos while trying to enjoy Drive, which, regardless of quality, stands to emerge as an instant hipster classic. With it’s neon-soaked industrial landscape and seductive, 80s-inspired soundtrack, it embodies a style and attitude that’s captivated the too-cool-for-school post-MTV generation. Despite it’s visual flourishes and occasional breathtaking sequence, Drive amounts to nothing more than a whole lot of posing. It’s the Marie Antoinette of chase movies – all style, no substance.

It-boy Ryan Gosling stars as a nameless stunt driver who moonlights as a wheel man for heists and robberies. It’s unclear whether thrill-seeking or economics motivate his felonious night job, but then we don’t ever find out why any of these characters are doing anything. He inexplicably falls for his downtrodden neighbor (Carey Mulligan) who comes with her own baggage – a husband in prison, a young son she takes care of, and a really tacky pair of hoop earrings. When her husband is released and needs cash quick, Gosling helps him with a robbery that predictably goes awry. In its aftermath, Gosling is forced to go head-to-head with a brilliantly cast-against-type Albert Brooks, a kingpin in LA’s seedy underbelly. It’s a great set-up for a trashy B-movie tribute, but Refn’s approach is so cold and detached that it’s impossible to become emotionally invested in the proceedings.

The actors can’t be faulted; they’ve been given cardboard cutouts to work with. The direction for Gosling was clearly to channel Steve McQueen, which he does with aplomb, though his cheekbones are doing most of the heavy lifting. It’s tough to buy Mulligan as a down-on-her-luck waitress – she has an inherent confidence and sophistication that’s at odds with the character. The supporting cast is a lot more fun, dialing up to archetypal B-movie figures. It’s a delight to see Brooks playing the heavy, while Bryan Cranston and Mad Men’s Christina Hendricks bring an otherwise absent authenticity to their small but pivotal roles.

Ultimately, the whole thing plays like an M83 music video that runs two hours too long. It might not be a bad strategy, however, as I couldn’t wait to download the soundtrack the minute I left the theater.

song of the day - monday

Lately it feels like I've been constantly espousing my affection for Sofia Coppola. I loved Somewhere -- easily one of last year's best films -- and have frequent pangs of nostalgia for Lost in Translation. Keeping in that theme, I thought Kevin Shields' "City Girl" would be a good song for this AM. It's briefly featured in the film, playing softly in the background during the title sequence, accompanying the infamous shot of a translucent-pink-panty-clad Scarlett Johannson. Kevin Shields of course is the frontman of My Bloody Valentine, so the song has that requisite dreamy, hazy quality (that band's "Sometimes" from Loveless is also featured in the film. Here's a Sofia Coppola-directed music video that nicely pairs the song and film:

jalapeno cheddar cornbread win

Here's a shot of the jalapeno cheddar cornbread I made for my friend Todd's Cajun-themed dinner party last night. It was delicious. I'm not much of a baker, so I was a tad nervous. But, as with most things in life, the guidance of The Barefoot Contessa proved invaluable.

song of the day - saturday

It seems I have a thing for exposing my celebrity crushes. This one should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me, but I think Thurston Moore is a total fox. My love for Sonic Youth is of course undying, as they are and always will be my favorite band.

Here's the first single off of Moore's forthcoming solo album. It's called "Benediction" and it's lovely:

Thurston Moore :: Benediction

my thoughts on my liz

I awoke this morning in San Francisco to a newsfeed overwhelmed with news of Elizabeth Taylor's passing. While not surprising news given her years of health complications, it's nevertheless sad to see an icon fade to black.

For me, Elizabeth Taylor was ceaseless glamour and emblematic of an old world, aristocratic luxury. Monaco. Casinos. VIP lounges. Everything that's cheesy now that used to be "it".

She was a world class movie star, but also a great actress. It's easy to forget, as she invented tabloid fixation and the culture of celebrity heartbreak (Mike Todd! Tracheotomy! Oscar!). For me, she's the essential Maggie in Cat on the Hot Tin Roof. So hungry, so desperate, so smoldering (she was similarly well-matched with Tennessee Williams the following year in Suddenly Last Summer). I remember seeing Ashley Judd try to bring the same glamour and restlessness to a Broadway revival a few years ago, which of course didn't work. Too fussy, over-rehearsed, self-conscious.

She was also appropriately disgusting and billowy in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, however I prefer Kathleen Turner's star turn in that Broadway revival a few years ago.

In the 80s and 90s Taylor didn't do as much, showing up in her final theatrical release in The Flinstones as Wilma's mother. Eeep. Our icons should be better served. Of course there were those delicious perfume ads, which offered the soap opera intrigue of any 50s melodrama. I've always wanted to live out the fantasy or wearing diamonds, watching a poker game, and seeing men fight (presumably over me). Here's a choice 30-second spot:

that time i fell in love with keith haring

I picked up artist Keith Haring's journals at Bookmarc a few weeks ago. Say what you will about Marc Jacobs' hellbent determination to overtake the West Village, and about the undeniable charms of Biography Bookshop which occupied the space intially, but Bookmarc is really quite lovely. As many have noted, it's exceedingly well-curated and offers an impressive range of art books, biographies, pop, miscellanea and various tidbits. It's lovely and engaging and showcases some real gems.

I'm a fiction loyalist, however over the past few years I've developed a keen appreciation of biography and non-fiction, particularly interviews, diaries, journals, and memoirs. I think the gold standard is Andy Warhol's collected diaries, which are an immense collection of recorded phone conversations he made over the years. Coupled with Victor Borkis' seminal biography, both provide a well-textured portrayal of the enigmatic figure. Diana Vreeland's memoir, D.V., which I had wanted to read since hearing it referenced in To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar, similarly captures her voice and candor.

Before stopping picking this up, I didn't know much about the life of Keith Haring. I knew the images, of course, but was unfamiliar with the artist himself. Since wrapping up the journals on my flight back from San Francisco earlier this week, I've fallen for him. I can't help but feel that there's something very romantic about his artistic struggle in his early years and the progress he made in conceptualizing and intellectualizing his work over time. It's also the undeniable romance of New York in the early 80s, something we all missed out on. For me, it's the great party I didn't go to but keep hearing about the day after. That'd be the time period I would revisit if I could.

While the journals are more about his work and glib observations on art -- on Matisse he says "too many drawings of tits and ass, I'd think he'd get bored" -- there are candid glimpses into his personal life, the tumult of notoriety, the general fabulosity of being close friends with Grace Jones, etc. What struck me most is how, despite global notoriety, Haring remained so naive and insecure in many ways, and also so loving and devoted to children and humanity.

It's also an incredible glimpse into a time where the gay experience in America was quite different. Haring came of age in the era before AIDS, and when the disease led to the death of several friends, viewed contracting it as an inevitability. There's a heart-wrenching anecdote of when Haring finds out he has AIDS, he walks down Houston to the East River, cries, and then makes the decision to live as long as he can, and to produce as much art as he can before it's too late.

It's impossible not to be moved. In many ways Haring is emblematic of a generation of lost and disenfranchised gay voices. There's a lot there -- why hasn't there been a film about his life yet?

song of the day - nostalgia edition

My Bloody Valentine “Blown a Wish”

Because I talk about them all the time, I thought I would post my favorite song from my favorite band. For me, it’s a deeply nostalgic dreamscape – driving in college with the top down, drinking at coffee shops that no longer exist, now-cringeworthy vintage clothing decisions, sloppy dorm room hookups etc. I've been in Austin this week for work, so I guess that's meant meandering through a lot of old Texas memories. The short hand -- I want to move back.

I included a snippet of lyrics – “Midnight wish/Blow me a kiss/I'll blow one to you/Make like this/Try to pretend it's true" -- in a short story I wrote in college, and would be more likely to get a tattoo that says that than anything else (though I think I’ve aged past that foolishness).

song of the day - wednesday

Abe Vigoda, “Sequins”

A few weeks ago I caught Wild Nothing (who I just can’t get over I like them so much) at Bowery Ballroom with my friend and preferred concert buddy Claire. Wild Nothing of course rocked with all the 80s inspired nuance that their album Gemini and subsequent Golden Haze EP delivered. It was an all-around great show with Minks, who just released an impressive debut LP, opening with Abe Vigoda. I didn’t know anything about this LA-based group of awkward guys, but have come to love their sound. “Sequins”, the opening track off their album Crush, is both upbeat and sweeping, pretty representative of their overall sound. The lead singer's voice works for me, and it’s nicer to listen to than it is to watch him perform – I’ve never seen someone sweat so much live … it was a bit like Albert Brooks anchoring the weekend edition in Broadcast News.

Here’s the band performing the song live:

song of the day - thursday

Work Drugs, "Dog Daze"

Distant vocals offset the disco-light, lounge-ready beat, lightly resembling a track from the recent Destroyer album, but obscured and drowning in melancholia. It's still decadent and glittering, a bit like and episode of The Love Boat but done as sudsy melodrama. Here's the video:

song of the day - wednesday

Small Black "Despicable Dogs (Washed Out Remix)"

Great opening bands are one of my favorite things. When I saw No Age at Music Hall of Williamsburg last fall, I wasn't too impressed with the headliner (all noise, no nuance), but openers Soft Circle and Small Black were really great. I knew nothing about either beforehand, so it was a great surprise. Small Black (a pleasantly motley band of locals) has the killer 80s sound that I just can't get enough of. Last year they released both a self-titled EP and the full-length Chains, both of which I highly recommend picking up. This track reinterprets the EP's most appealing track through the eyes of electro artists Washed Out (if you haven't given their EP Life of Leisure a listen, do so now):

song of the day - tuesday

Beach Fossils, "What a Pleasure"

Last summer I played Beach Fossils' self-titled debut on an endless loop. Dreamy, drifting lilts with just the right amount of summertime twang. Their new EP shows encouraging growth. They've moved beyond the beach bum aesthetic and now show a deeper, hazier sound that closely resembles label-mates (and the totally awesome) Wild Nothing. Here's the title track off the new album:

song of the day - monday

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti, "Alisa"

I've been a bit of a fanatic for Ariel Pink since hearing Before Today, his killer album from last year. That one features "Round and Round", a hypnotic track that is currently my ring tone. His whole body of work is quite strong, particularly 2006's House Arrest. I've learned that they will soon re-press it on vinyl, and given that it's a grainy, sample-heavy sound, that will be a sublime must-have. Here's today's track, "Alisa", performed live (and quite well), below:

song of the day - sunday

A Gap Between, "Neon Signs"

Heavy synth beats propel this sudsy bit of nostalgia. It's like a nightclub scene from any 80s film (Fright Night actually comes to mind) - and that's a serious compliment. Click here to visit the band's Soundcloud page to give it a listen.

(Pictured above: A gay club in Cape Town, the name of which I can't recall. A room bedecked with disco balls felt appropriate for the song)

song of the day -- saturday

Memoryhouse, "When You Sleep"

My love for these guys' debut EP The Years, which was released last year, is well-documented. So I was intrigued when I heard they had done a live cover of this track from My Bloody Valentine (my favorite band). Memoryhouse is among the few bands that possesses the requisite dreamy haze necessary to cover those legendary shoegazers. Here's video of Memoryhouse performing the cover at Mercury Lounge last year:

song of the day

Toro y Moi, "New Beat"

The first song off their new album Underneath the Pine(s) is a seductive, upbeat disco send-up. Dripping with retro synth and a champagne dream-soaked vibe it's a dance track that even guys who don't dance (me) can get behind. I recommend checking them out at Music Hall of Williamsburg on April 10. Here's the video:

the year that was ...

Where did the lazy, cozy, red-wine-soaked winters of yore go? So far this has been a frantic, angry-badger-faced season for me, which means I've only now caught up on last year's films. Here's my list of 2010's best:

1. Winter's Bone

Call it Ozark noir. Jennifer Lawrence stars as a ceaselessly determined teenager who must hunt down her meth-cooking father to keep her family together. As she portrays this search through backwoods Appalachia, writer/director Debra Granik captures her subject and setting with a documentarian's eye. It's atmospheric, moody, and riveting. Lawrence, who played a similarly precocious and world-weary teenager in The Burning Plain, makes her character's pluck endearing and believable, while Dale Dickey and John Hawkes offer indelible portraits of not-entirely-unsympathetic figures entangled in the meth business.

2. Black Swan

Sure, I can handily buy all the "it's about the artistic process" arguments, but for me, this is a blood-soaked psychological thriller, as gleefully over the top as Carrie or Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Darren Aronofsky has never been one for subtlety, and thank goodness. Natalie Portman has never been better as a ballerina losing grips on reality (she relishes the stage like Elizabeth Berkeley did the stripper pole in Showgirls ... that's not a knock). Barbara Hershey and Vincent Cassel haven't gotten the praise they deserve as Portman's manipulative mother and director, respectively.

3. Somewhere

Sometimes I think about what it must be like to be Sofia Coppola.

"But Daddy, I want to make a costume drama!"

"When I was in the front row at the Anna Sui show ..."

"I loved that song 1901, off my husband's last album."

It's easy to hate on Coppola, but perhaps that's because we all wish we were hollywood progeny, fashion icons, and indie rock wives. Also, that we could write delicate, minimalist screenplays and bring them to the screen with grace and visual splendor. That's just what Coppola's done with Somewhere, her best film since Lost in Translation (the less said about Marie Antoinette the better). It's easily her most minimal, defined by dialogue-less scenes, a rudderless narrative flow, and relationships are implied rather than stated. I love the ambiguity as well as apathy for traditional narrative propulsion. Stephen Dorff stars as a disenchanted hollywood star living in the famed, decadent Chateau Marmont. Elle Fanning (she of the Dakota Fannings) is his charming, precocious daughter. They interact, disconnect, go to Milan. Their relationship -- and Dorff's lack of relationships with everyone -- feels quintessentially LA. It reminds me of the line from Less Than Zero, "People are afraid to merge."

4. White Material

I've written about Claire Denis' brilliant examination of post-colonialism before, so I'll keep it brief. Isabelle Huppert (always great) is the steely operator of a coffee farm in a crumbling African nation. It's abstract, non-traditional, haunting.

5. I Am Love

It had me at hello. A snow-blanketed Milan, John Adams' lavish score, and vintage credits. A fitting start to an opulent send-up to old style melodrama. Tilda Swinton (who else?) stars as a the matriarch of a dynastic Italian clan. Betrayal, dueling loyalties, clandestine love. It's all there. The soap opera is fun, but the technical marvels are the reasons to stay - costumes to die for and the most appetizing prawn I've ever seen.

6. Animal Kingdom

When his mother overdoses, a teen is forced to move in with his only family -- a notorious gang of bank robbers. Similar to this year's The Town, it's a fairly traditional crime film that explores loyalty, honor and family. The white trash Australian setting is fascinating and Jackie Weaver deserves all the praise she's receiving as the motley crew's duplicitous matriarch.

7. The Social Network

Yeah, it's been overpraised. Which is too bad, because there's now a bit of a backlash against this witty, insightful look at flawed ambition and social alienation. Few directors working today possess David Fincher's skill and precision, and when paired with Aaron Sorkin's rapid-fire dialogue (so good it warrants comparison to Preston Sturges), it's hard to beat. The opening confrontation between Jesse Eisenberg and Rooney Mara could easily be one of the best first scenes ever, and contains my favorite line of the year, "Dating you is like dating a Stairmaster."

8. Shutter Island

A real treat for lovers of old film, Martin Scorsese approaches this psychological thriller with an eye to Hitchcock and Georges Franju. The technical merits are peerless, and supporting turns from Ben Kingsley and Max Von Sydow are over-the-top in a great way. This is also, I think, the better of DiCaprio's "tortured soul due to late, crazy wife" performances.

9. Inception

Now for the other DiCaprio as a "tortured soul due to late, crazy wife" film. With The Dark Knight and this follow-up, Christopher Nolan deserves credit for pushing blockbuster filmmaking into an uncharted realm. It's also refreshing to see an original idea (not a franchise, reboot, etc.) get the big budget treatment (even if every line Ellen Page says is a piece of exposition). And as much as this isn't a performance piece, why people haven't been talking about Marion Cotillard's affecting work as Leo's luminous (albeit slightly crazy and dead) wife is beyond me.

10. Exit from the Gift Shop

An engaging look at the art of the scam, which itself might just be a scam. It looks at the rise of street art and the mysterious (and potentially fictitious) Banksy, who along with Shepard Fairey are the empresarios of the movement. It's all about what's art and who decides, or as Jennifer Egan put it in the excellent A Visit from the Goon Squad, "When does a fake mohawk become a real mohawk? Who decides?"

my life in mocktails

For those of you interested in how Amy and I are doing with this detox bit, check here for updates, anecdotes, and breakdowns: http://onceandfutureslurry.tumblr.com/

We're both quite funny, so it's worth a read.

that time we stopped drinking

One night over drinks (naturally), my friend Amy and I decided to take a break from booze. We came up with a 90 day goal, which takes us through March. This isn't a Lohan situation (as it's not court-mandated), we're just seeing if we can.

The reasons why are plenty. First off, I probably drink too much, in both frequency and quantity. It could be that I'm feeling the weight of my holiday season glut, or that everything I did in my early 20s is now catching up with me (eeep), but I just feel my body telling me to slow down.

Speaking of body, well, it could just be gay panic (at the disco), but the post-holiday puffiness has me wanted to focus a bit more on all that, so the lack of hangovers will make weekend workouts less rare.

Oh, and then there's the money. My rough estimates for how much I spend going out each month are brutal and un-sharable. Let's just say funneling some of that into savings would be advisable (or at least that's what Suze Orman would tell me).

So far, it's been surprisingly easy. We started on January 2, after the New Year's revelry had subsided. The first day was easy, as I was in a van coming back from a boozy trip to the Catskills, in which I may have been my most hungover ever.

On Saturday, I went to the Xanadude party in Williamsburg. The whole thing felt like the East Village had hopped the river, devoured Willamsburg, and then thrown it back up. Which is my way of saying it was more gay scenester than gay hipster. That said, the music was killer (the theme seemed to be regurgitated glitter); there was a giant, inflated cat tacked to the ceiling; a drag queen wore gloves adorned with talons; tank tops are in this winter; and I was perfectly fine sober. Funny is still funny, and awkward is still awkward. The biggest challenge is that any social anxiety is felt more acutely (a big reason people drink in the first place). Oh well, I'll figure it out.

Going forward, I think Amy and I are going to set up another site where we chronicle all of this, so stay tuned!

(Pictured: Me, in egregiously mismatched patterns, a little over a year ago at a winery in the Franschhoek Valley region of South Africa)

christmas? again? already?

Moments of utter bliss can occur in the most random of places. Picture me, puffy-eyed, hair tussled, early this morning at the Admirals Club at O'Hare. What an odd time to discover a bootleg version of Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story online.

It's not an exaggeration to say I've waited my entire adult life to see this movie. It's the first work from Todd Haynes, who I've had a crush on since I saw Safe in high school. It only grew when I saw his other films -- Poison, Velvet Goldmine, Far From Heaven -- in college.

But until now finding this first short film has been impossible. Due to his liberal, unauthorized use of the Carpenters songbook, and the fact that he uses Barbies (a trademarked entity) to play Carpenter and the other characters, it's been banned everywhere.

Amazingly, it lives up to my decade-long anticipation. It's camp meets David Lynch meets Kathy Acker meets Ivy League dissertation. It's unflinching, impossible-to-look-away-from, highly stylized, and profoundly disturbing. So, a fitting precursor for the Todd Haynes filmography.

I encourage all of you to take a look!

best. date. movie. ever.

Obviously, I'm kidding.

Nothing says "afternoon of a bonus day off" like an ultra-realistic film about the explosive demise of a relationship, but laundry was the alternative, so I couldn't resist.

Eeep. To call Blue Valentine the cinematic equivalent of getting punched in the stomach might be an understatement. Deliberately difficult to watch and pulling no punches, the film painstakingly documents all the horrible things people do to each other in a relationship. Unfortunately, it's a like what Cassavetes would have been like if he tried way, way, way too hard. That said, Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams can't be faulted. Yes, they're "fearless" for being so exposed, but they also make the film seem almost believable and real, even at its most contrived. If this is what that hipster couple next door grows up to become, I hope to have moved by then.

To that point, imagine my surprise to be alone in a sea of couples watching the film at the Angelika. What were these people thinking? Apart from loving seeing movies by myself, I was thrilled to be alone, I was relieved to not have shared the experience with anyone I know (Trading gasps during an abortion or awkward sex scene isn't going to bring me closer to anyone).

So, as hard as it was for me, the cold walk home with someone else would have been way harder.