In The Room Where You Sleep (live video version)
Not really sure what this is all about, but I think it's delightful. I believe that's Ryan Gosling at the piano.
Showing posts with label Pop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop. Show all posts
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Blondie has kickin' beats
Truth.If Blondie is a New Wave band then Blondie has the kickinest New Wave beats.
If Clem Burke is Blondie's drummer then Clem Burke is the kickinest New Wave drummer.
If Blondie isn't a New Wave band then Clem Burke is still the kickinest drummer in whatever kind of band Blondie is.
See "Dreaming" for support:
Clem Burke swings from the shoulder.
Monday, August 25, 2008
"It's lonely at the top"
Vicky Christina Barcelona. Slow motion? Zooming fade outs? Voiceover narration of semi-obvious plot details? Threesomes? Bicycle rides through the European countryside? Woody Allen is Julesing you Jim.
And it's delightful.
Read his behind the scenes production diary HERE. He dishes on giving an Oscar winner acting tips and his own ability to satisfy three randy and insatiable actresses simultaneously.
Monday, August 4, 2008
That Crap Danny Listens To
What was the number one song on your birthday? You can find out here. Mine was "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince & the Revolution from the motion picture soundtrack to the movie Purple Rain. Do I remember this? Of course not.
"Prince is lame," cried the world when I was growing up and I believed it. Perhaps he was everywhere in 1984, but by the early '90s when my memory began he was nowhere to be found. I didn't consciously listen to a Prince song again until freshman year in college.
Now I listen to a Prince song nearly every day.
"Prince is lame?" But we were perfect together. As an infant did I subconsciously absorb the then ubiquitous Purple Rain soundtrack over FM radio, only to have it repressed during my childhood?
Innocent unconscious > repression > rediscovery > guilty pleasure > unrepentant conscious celebration.
A few years later I discovered that Jonathem Lethem's Tourettic private eye, Lionel Essrog, was a kindred spirit. He hears "Kiss" on the radio for the first time:
... twitching and throbbing within obsessively delineated bounds, alternately silent and plosive. It so pulsed with Tourettic energies that I could surrender to its tormented, squeaky beat and let my syndrome live outside my brain for once, live in the air instead.
"Turn that shit down," Minna said.
"I like it," I said.
"That's that crap Danny listens to," said Minna. Danny was code for too black.
Too black but too powerful to be ignored and Lionel tracks the record down. His reaction to what he finds makes perfect sense to me:
Prince's music calmed me as much as masturbation or a cheeseburger. When I listened to him I was exempt from my symptoms. So I began collecting his records, especially those elaborated and frenetic remixes tucked away on the CD singles. The way he worried forty-five minutes of variations out of a lone musical or verbal phrase is, as far as I know, the nearest thing in art to my condition.
Faced with the absurdity of rational life in the modern world? Let's go crazy indeed. Zizek must have had Prince in mind when he advised us to enjoy our symptoms. Simultaneously unrepentant and devout, there is no line between prayer and orgasm. Horror movie screams live side by side with trite romantic couplets; wanton dominatrices masturbate in public, luring unsuspecting innocents back to their castle for a night of mind blowing pleasure; the drives and desires are looped ad infinitum, endless variations on endless themes.
A throbbing, twitching world, exulting in exhaustive repetition. Nothing is complicated.
One week later, "I Just Called to Say I Love You" by Stevie Wonder was number one ...
"Prince is lame," cried the world when I was growing up and I believed it. Perhaps he was everywhere in 1984, but by the early '90s when my memory began he was nowhere to be found. I didn't consciously listen to a Prince song again until freshman year in college.
Now I listen to a Prince song nearly every day.
"Prince is lame?" But we were perfect together. As an infant did I subconsciously absorb the then ubiquitous Purple Rain soundtrack over FM radio, only to have it repressed during my childhood?
Innocent unconscious > repression > rediscovery > guilty pleasure > unrepentant conscious celebration.
A few years later I discovered that Jonathem Lethem's Tourettic private eye, Lionel Essrog, was a kindred spirit. He hears "Kiss" on the radio for the first time:
... twitching and throbbing within obsessively delineated bounds, alternately silent and plosive. It so pulsed with Tourettic energies that I could surrender to its tormented, squeaky beat and let my syndrome live outside my brain for once, live in the air instead.
"Turn that shit down," Minna said.
"I like it," I said.
"That's that crap Danny listens to," said Minna. Danny was code for too black.
Too black but too powerful to be ignored and Lionel tracks the record down. His reaction to what he finds makes perfect sense to me:
Prince's music calmed me as much as masturbation or a cheeseburger. When I listened to him I was exempt from my symptoms. So I began collecting his records, especially those elaborated and frenetic remixes tucked away on the CD singles. The way he worried forty-five minutes of variations out of a lone musical or verbal phrase is, as far as I know, the nearest thing in art to my condition.
Faced with the absurdity of rational life in the modern world? Let's go crazy indeed. Zizek must have had Prince in mind when he advised us to enjoy our symptoms. Simultaneously unrepentant and devout, there is no line between prayer and orgasm. Horror movie screams live side by side with trite romantic couplets; wanton dominatrices masturbate in public, luring unsuspecting innocents back to their castle for a night of mind blowing pleasure; the drives and desires are looped ad infinitum, endless variations on endless themes.
A throbbing, twitching world, exulting in exhaustive repetition. Nothing is complicated.
One week later, "I Just Called to Say I Love You" by Stevie Wonder was number one ...
Monday, July 7, 2008
"I'll sing a song for you, that's what I'm here to do, to sing for you"
So we all fell in love with Charlotte when we saw Science of Sleep. Does this bolster or hinder that love?
A few things to consider:
1. She didn't write the song. It was written by the Air, Neil Hannon, and Jarvis Cocker.
2. Does her strangely sincere lip-syncing make the song or take away from it?
3. The album it's on is called 5:55.
4. Her dad is a genius.
That's all. Thoughts?
A few things to consider:
1. She didn't write the song. It was written by the Air, Neil Hannon, and Jarvis Cocker.
2. Does her strangely sincere lip-syncing make the song or take away from it?
3. The album it's on is called 5:55.
4. Her dad is a genius.
That's all. Thoughts?
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