The Wright Stuff

I’ve never been much of an architecture buff, but I have to say "Wow" at this house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. As always, his repertoire is the gorgeous marraige of form and function. I’m loving the thought of heated concrete floors and windows galore.

If only I had $1.7 million lying around, sigh. They still handing out those NINA loans? (KIDDING!!!)

Review: Son of Rambow

Last night I got to catch an advanced screening of the British comedy, Son of Rambow. I had no idea what to expect, even after seeing the trailer, but I have to say it was one of the most enjoyable movies I’d seen in a while.

The story centers on two boys who become enamored with Rambo: First Blood and set out to make their own version of the movie. The two were so effective in drawing me into their world. The journey was a bit surprising at times, but never at all unbelievable. Or boring; I laughed out loud throughout the movie. And I’m quite happy to finally discover a film that is chocked full of quirkiness that doesn’t evoke a comparison to Wes Anderson.

Watching these two boys run around and let their imaginations flow freely really struck close to home with me. I kept recalling my summers and weekends romping around my neighborhood with my best friend, role playing as whatever cartoon or movie we were currently obsessed with. After seeing Top Gun, we’d swoop around as if we were fighter jets. After Ghostbusters, we’d lug giant backpacks with garden hoses. And even during a rather intense Ninja Turtles fixation, we’d don green sweats, cloth rags for eye-masks and carry ninja weapons rigged out of PVC pipe.

The obsessive doodling over every possible surface also resonated strongly with me. I’ve had more than a few instances of teachers stopping their lessons to march towards my desk and rip the paper out of my hands to keep me from drawing and pay attention. Even in college I had class notes that were indecipherable due to the amount of sketches jammed into every inch of white space on the page.

I have a hard time imagining people coming out of this movie without smiles on their faces. Everyone should check out this movie.

The Little Ones at Mercury Lounge, 04/24/08

Lumas Photography Exhibition

There’s a great photography exhibit at the Lumas Gallery in SoHo featuring an assortment of artists. I love the mantra of the gallery, which is to make fine art accessible. Signed and numbered editions of work can be purchased at a price range that doesn’t exclude everyone who isn’t in the super-rich category. And we’re not talking tiny postcard sizes; they’re generally respectable sizes that wouldn’t get lost on your wall.

The True Romance photo series by Jacques Olivar were particularly striking to me. The style is evocative of Cindy Sherman’s Untitled Film Stills, which I have always loved. In both artists’ work, there’s a juxtaposition between the sense of a candid moment while being obviously posed. There’s sensuality and vulnerability. A fragment of a story is being portrayed and the viewer is left to fill in the blanks. Olivar pushes the fashion model aesthetic of the subject further than Sherman did, thus widening the extreme between the person and the surroundings.

In Olivar’s piece, I love how colors of the subject’s dress and hair mesh perfectly with everything around her, yet she still stands out. It actually resonates with me personally, as if polar environments of my recent life are colliding: the fashionable beauty from New York City being dropped into the time-worn surroundings of a Texas dive bar.

Even though I was touting earlier the affordability of Lumas, this piece sits at the higher end, probably due to it’s large size. So as much as I’d like to have it adorn my wall, I’ll have to settle for a jpg on my blog. Although if she had been holding a Shiner, it might have sealed the deal.

The Fleet Foxes at Bowery Ballroom, 03/29/08

The Fleet Foxes are a group that I’m sure everyone will be hearing a lot about in the near future. They’ve recently signed with Sub Pop and are prepping a debut album, Ragged Wood, which can already be found on the internets. The prelude to that is a five song EP, Sun Giant, which is an all too short and overwhelmingly beautiful introduction to the Seattle band.

I was lucky enough to catch them perform at the Bowery Ballroom this weekend, which reinforced my amazement of their music. Sun Giant perfectly captures the essence of the band but the vibrancy of the live show can’t be compared.

Maybe it’s just me being raised on “oldies” music but something about the Fleet Foxes resonates with me very strongly. They will almost certainly draw comparisons to Crosby, Stills and Nash. Even during the show, I was thinking that this is exactly what CS&N would sound like if they were new and vital today. I’m a total sucker for the Fleet Foxes’ lush harmonies and melodies. The sound is reminiscent but not derivative at all.

It’ll be jarring for some who are expecting a certain sound from a Seattle Sub-Pop signee. But their music does seem fitting for the picturesque Northwest scenery. I can imagine these guys sitting around a campfire playing these tunes for each other. The music evokes something within me that makes me want to hear it while on a long road trip across the country. It’s uplifting and serene yet intense and vibrant at the same time.

The guys seemed very down to earth. Pecknold was curled up in a chair with a guitar as if he were casually playing in his den.

Despite having a very limited discography (Sun Giant is even supposedly a tour or web-order only release), they already have a devoted following, that even surprised the band during several points in the show. The lead singer, Robin Pecknold, would sing the first line of a song off the yet-to-be-released album which drew cheers from the crowd. It caused him to do a double take and stall on the song. The 22 year old (yeah, that’s right) grimaced after every song as if he had butchered the song (due to being affected by the flu), but the crowd loved every song and the band was visibly moved by the warm reception they were receiving in New York.

Before the concert, I had only heard the five songs on the EP (albeit over and over again) and was thinking during the show that I really really hoped that they would release more material soon. Some bands I can only take in short doses, so an EP is much more preferable than, say, a double disc album. But with the Fleet Foxes, I have a feeling that I would devour as much as they’d be willing to produce.

White Winter Hymnal

Mykonos

Hey Sufjan! Do Texas!!!

It’s been a while since Sufjan Stevens contributed to his ambitious 50 States music project. ‘Ambitious’ is perhaps the wrong word. Maybe ‘impossible’ or ‘unlikely’ are more fitting. Seeing as how he’s got just 2 under his belt, an album for each of the remaining 48 states looks doubtful even if he puts out 1 per year. The outlook is even more bleak considering there was a span of 2 years between Michigan and Illinoise.

The rumors floating around the internets are that his next subject will be Oregon or California. Though given that only a select few states will get the star treatment, I thought I’d make a plea for my home state, Texas.

So here are 5 reasons why I think Sufjan should consider centering his next opus on the Lone Star State:

1. Austin – You can’t meet anyone who has ever been to this town that doesn’t love it. Sounds arrogant but it’s true. Even people I talk to who’ve never been will say that they know someone that loves Austin. The place is oozing with eclectic character and personality. It’s got a rich mixture of culture, intelligence and kookiness but has been able to retain an intimate, small town aura.

2. Because no one needs songs about Delaware – If Sufjan can’t do all the states, then he’s going to have to pick and choose. And honestly, could he even come up with an entire album’s worth of content for some of the states out there? I mean, an EP maybe.

3. Rich source material - I’m sorry, but Texas has a one-up on most of the competition in this category. The sheer size alone allows for a vast pool of people, stories and environments. You have urban cities, sprawling plains and the hilly countryside. The population runs the gamut of urban yuppies to mellow hippies to good ole’ country folk.

4. Because Texas needs Sufjan – There is a stigma about Texas that needs to be shaken. The Dallas theme song should no longer constitute any sort of representation of the state, nor should country music be the dominant soundtrack of Texas. Sufjan has the talent and sensitivity to help expel the hokey and clichéd perception of the state. There are plenty of nuanced aspects within the state-lines that shouldn’t be steamrolled by fiddles and banjos.

5. It’d be good for record sales – Texas has a strange notoriety throughout the world. You could say you’re from Texas anywhere else in the world and people’s interests will definitely be piqued. I still get raised eyebrows when I mention where I’m from. There’s a curiosity and recognition that isn’t reserved for any other state (like say, Idaho). I believe that an album based on Texas would generate a lot more interest (and sales) than a major chunk of the rest of the country.

So there ya go, Sufjan. I hope that helps in the decision making process!

Take Five: The Beta Band

I’ve been revisiting The Beta Band lately. They’re another group that should’ve gotten more attention than they did. So here are a few picks from a great but under-appreciated group.

I was first exposed to them in 2001 when they opened for Radiohead at Red Rocks Amphitheater. By strange coincidence I watched High Fidelity two days later in which they were featured in one scene. Although John Cusack butchered their name. It’s actually “Bee-tah” and not “Bay-tah”.

Their repetitive textures and the slightly dead-pan vocals were often hypnotic. I spent many listens trying understand what the hell the lyrics were. Inner Meet Me is particularly maddening. I can decipher “You’ve been feeling that the light is on the ceiling and you can’t see past your noses.” Beyond that, I’m generally lost. I’ve seen lyrics websites that just gave up and put "????" over huge sections.

Sadly, the band is now defunct, but not before releasing a couple of albums for the few fans to enjoy. Although I don’t think anything matched The Three E.P.s, Heroes to Zeroes had some nice moments.

1. Dry the Rain

2. Lion Thief

3. Wonderful

4. Inner Meet Me

5. Push It Out

Primary target

I’m starting to get a bit nervous for my boy, Obama. I was really hoping that he’d carry at least Texas or Ohio and have a reasonable lock on the Democratic Nomination by now, allowing him to focus on McCain. As it stands, the longer this battle draws out the weaker the Democratic party will be. McCain must be licking his chops.

How a few weeks will change everything. Things look a little precarious for Barack now. Hillary’s got the momentum and looks like her campaign strategy is working. Analysts are saying that Barack needs to hit back but also admit that that will weaken the approach he’s had throughout the primaries. He’s taken the high road and any negative shots towards Clinton will risk turning off supporters. He’s handcuffed in a way, and it’s easy to see now why so many politicians resort to slinging mud; it’s much easier to look clean by sullying the opponent.

After Tuesday’s outcome, Obama has lost in every "major" state. If Florida and Michigan had retained their delegate counts, Hillary would be leading. It’s a sobering realization, since the support for Obama seems so fervent in New York City. It’s hard to gauge the national stance from here.

Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Back in 2004, it was frustrating to see a graphic of Austin as a tiny blue square surrounded by the hundreds of red squares that made up the rest of Texas.

Actually, it’s not surprising to me. I guess I just held out hope that at least among the Democrats, there would be more rallying behind the optimist Obama rather than the battle-hardened Clintons.

It’s the little things...

Seeing shows at famous venues or going to a large outdoor festival is a great experience, but nothing’s more satisfying than seeing a band I love in a small space for cheap.

Case in point, The Little Ones are playing at Mercury Lounge for $10 in April. It’ll be just after they release their first full-length album, Morning Tide.

It’s a good day so far.

Notwist and Shout

Oh. My. Lord.

Thank you! It’s been much too long of a wait, but a new album from Notwist is finally announced!

Linky

Anderson-esque

Due to the daunting financial commitment of a night out at the movies, I make it a point avoid the theaters at all cost. Plus Netflix is just so great. But lately there have been too many films out that can’t seem to be passed up.

Persepolis was amazing. There Will Be Blood deserves every bit of praise it’s getting. Everything from the art direction, to Daniel Day Lewis’ performance, to Jonny Greenwood’s score was pitch perfect. There was a sense that this story was a sprawling epic, while somehow never losing the intimate scope. I still haven’t caught the Coen brothers’ No Country for Old Men yet, despite universal raves from everyone.

While I enjoyed Juno, I think some of the praise is a bit overblown. Nominated for Best Picture? And Best Actress? Really? Not many of my friends even liked the movie. The most common remarks seem to be along the lines of it being a bad imitation of a Wes Anderson film. It made me wonder about how any movie that displays any bit of quirkiness gets pegged as Wes-Anderson-esque. I recall the most scathing critique of Napoleon Dynamite’s director described as a "poor man’s Wes Anderson". Ouch... but kind of true.

It also made me wonder how that must affect Wes Anderson himself. If it influences how he makes his films. I see how artists could become recognized for a signature style and then fall into the trap of it defining their work.

I must admit to not being too fond of Anderson’s last two films, although The Darjeeling Limited fared better than The Life Aquatic in my mind. I started to get the sense that his movies began to be dictated by people’s expectations of what they were supposed to be. They seemed to be dumbed down versions of his earlier work. Granted these films haven’t been subjected to insanely high number of viewings that I allowed for Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums. Rushmore is also one of my all-time favorite movies so there’s a lot to live up to.

Still, his movies have always retained an amazing visual style that he’s also known for. Just about every frame of his films is immaculately composed. They could truly pass as paintings.

Perhaps it’s the content of the movies that is beginning to wear thin for me. Anderson has a knack for using consistent elements throughout his career. The most obvious being the reuse of particular actors, but he’ll also re-employ visual and musical elements. (I was disappointed to find out that his collaborations with Mark Mothersbaugh and Kumar Pallana ended after The Life Aquatic.) Anderson is an obvious fan of the Kinks and the Rollings Stones who have graced almost every soundtrack so far.

More importantly, he has used each movie to explore similar themes and subjects.

There are significant father issues in each movie. James Caan’s Mr. Henry in Bottlerocket wasn’t a biological father to Owen Wilson’s Dignan but Dignan was desperately seeking the approval of the older figure. Schwartzman’s Max Fischer had to overcome the shame he felt towards his father’s profession, but also developed a father-son relationship with Bill Murray’s Henry Blume. The Royal Tenenbaums (TRT) examined the father theme more overtly with the entire family dealing with the negligence of Gene Hackman’s character. In The Life Aquatic (TLA), Owen Wilson’s Ned was seeking out a relationship with his father Bill Murray as Steve Zissou, and the death of the father in The Darjeeling Limited (TDL) caused the three sons to undertake a soul searching journey.

Death is also a driving force in the stories. The death of Zissou’s best friend, Esteban in TLA spurred him towards a revenge quest. Royal’s supposed terminal illness plays an important role in reconciling the family. While Owen Wilson wasn’t technically in Rushmore (RM), his presence as the deceased Edward Appleby was felt by each of the characters. And I’ve already mentioned the effect of death in TDL.

Another recurring element in the stories is the seeming reversal of roles between the younger characters to the older characters. The elders are often seen giddy and child-like, while the younger characters are mired in sadness and restraint. Royal Tenenbaum was the epitome of the man-child, while Max Fischer can be seen as the ultimate example of a child wanting to be an adult. Each of the Tenenbaum children had some sort of debilitating psychological conflict, while in Anjelica Huston’s mother figure, you could practically see the butterflies in her stomach as she experienced a kiss with Mr. Sherman. In RM, Herman and Rosemary were experiencing a blooming love, while Max and Margaret’s encounters were composed of doubt, sadness and unrealized desire. Max’s younger friend, Dirk, portrayed an even older persona as a stoic, wise friend. Huston’s character in TDL was the one running off while her sons forced themselves into the painful therapy of their relationships to each other.

The most interesting thread for me is the water theme which is explored subtly in RM but is pushed to the obvious forefront in TLA. In RM, there are several water elements that mark the storyline, such as the inclusion of aquariums (both in Rosemary’s classroom and Max’s plan for a world-class aquarium), the Jacques Costeau book, Edward Appleby’s death by drowning, Max’s last name being ’Fischer’ (or fisher), or one of my favorite scenes: Herman cannonballing into the pool and remaining underwater in the fetal position. The little boy swimming around him like a singular sperm punctuated the idea of Herman being reborn at that moment.

And that’s the whole appeal of Anderson films. There’s depth and a great attention to details, creating interesting and developed characters, interesting dialogue and beautiful visuals. Yet he’s been covering the same ground for a long time. It’s beginning to become monotonous and almost self-cannibalizing. Each time around is less interesting and also less developed.

There were several moments in TDL that made me groan with the explicitness. When Owen’s character, Francis, began removing bandages to reveal his injuries and proclaim "I guess I still have some healing to do." he was obviously referring to more than physical scarring. A little too obviously. Also in the end, the brothers chase after a train and dump their luggage, I had to remark to myself "Oh okay I get it, they’re letting go of their ’baggage’ now." These things just didn’t feel like they’d fly in Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love all of these films. And to be Wes Anderson and have every non-traditional character-driven film come out have to be compared to him, is saying something about the impact and significance of his work. I just hope his work doesn’t become a parody of itself.

Addendum: Look, someone else has Anderson on the brain. Linky

Vampire Weakened

I can’t stop. It’s been weeks and I am starting to drive myself crazy. I’ve been listening to the debut album from Vampire Weekend nonstop and it’s taking its toll.

I noticed that I wake up with the guitar riff from Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa going through my head. It plays nonstop while I shower, when I’m at my computer at work, while I wait for the F train, when I’m walking down the street, when I’m trying to sleep.

It’s like when a coworker or friend hums or sings some song fragment incessantly and you just want to kill them. Only this time, I’m the one who is annoying myself.

Listening to Vampire Weekend seemed like a great way to cope with the cold, dreary January. Like a blast of warm ocean air, their bright and bouncy songs made the days bearable at work (or Jerkville as I like to call it now).

Reminiscent of Weezer, the lyrics and themes border on disenchanted but are masked by the smile-inducing pop sounds. M79 in particular seems to be born out of a Wes Anderson soundtrack. There’s a childlike wonder but with a hint of pensiveness. The vocals remind me of Paul Simon, which probably aid the welcoming familiarity.

Oxford Comma is my current favorite tune, but somehow Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa is the one that is embedding itself into my brain. Someone please help me. Suggest another band or song so I wont have to listen about Louis Vuitton with your mother on a sandy lawn anymore!

Band site

Spamalot

This is what I find in my inbox this morning:

“She will laugh at your small stick anymore”

Nice.

Review: Persepolis

To anyone who has the chance to catch Persepolis, I highly recommend this film. I know that many people will dismiss this movie because it’s animated and that the visual style is so simplistic, but I’ve already read several reviews agreeing that the fact that it’s animated heightens the ability to tell such an engaging story.

The film follows Marjane ‘Marji’ Satrapi growing up in Iran during times of massive political and cultural upheaval. The story is able to constantly stay focused on the human element but still manages to keep the audience up to speed with all of the relevant historical events. I could see how the duty of having so much exposition could easily swallow up the intimate story, but the necessary insight never seemed long or dry.

The animation was wonderful and had a clear stylistic direction. It was easy to get immersed in every little detail, from the cigarette smoke to the amorphous black shapes of the oppressive nuns.

It still amazes me how humans can so easily decipher a representation of the human form or face, no matter how simplified or abstracted. Look at the Simpsons who are very simplified, exaggerated caricatures. Yet we can read a sad or mad expression from a simple change in the curve of their giant eye-balls or an added line in their brow. The same goes for the characters in Persepolis. The style is simple but deliberate. Even subtle shifts of mood can be easily interpreted.

Another comparison that comes to mind is Pixar. I love their style and am constantly amazed by their lifelike renderings of backgrounds and objects. But their “actors” are always abstracted in a cartoonish way. You’d think that watching a character with a giant chin and stubby legs standing in a completely life-like setting would seem awkward. But that juxtaposition is what Pixar has established as their visual style, which they do very very well.

In contrast, every element in Persepolis seems perfectly born within it’s world. Everything fits in and looks like it belongs.

But as much as I’m a fan of animation, the story is what really shines in this film. Similar to what makes Pixar so brilliant, this film never loses it’s emotional core. I don’t go into movies looking to have every emotion tapped. I hate hearing commercials where some critic raves “I laughed, I cried...” Still, with this film, I felt as if I was guided through every possible emotion. It was easy to laugh at Marji’s childish innocence and antics, feel the dread of the ever-increasing persecution, relate to the literal floating off the ground in the throes of love, and tense up at the frustrating sense of helplessness as the world seemed to collapse into self-destruction.

The main characters were portrayed as fully fleshed out humans rather than generalized caricatures. The story wasn’t afraid to deviate from the portrayal of the protagonist as infallible. The scene of her as a child convincing her friends to chase down a boy and threatening to stab him with rusty nails was kind of scary if you really think about it. Though it made the story much more acceptable rather than viewing it under rose-colored glasses like some other biographies. Marji was energetic and loving, but also selfish and depressive. She had a fighting spirit but could wither under the rejection of others.

Persepolis looks like it’s limited to select theatres, which is a shame because it should be one that everyone sees. Alas, instead we get to choose from How She Move and National Treasure 2.

I will say that there are some damn good movies out lately. There Will Be Blood was amazing.

Persepolis site and trailer

Rufus Wainwright at the State Theatre, NJ - 01/12/08

This past weekend I had the pleasure to catch Rufus Wainwright perform at the State Theatre in New Brunswick, NJ. It was a smaller venue, which in addition to being a completely solo performance, created an intimate atmosphere for the concert.

His sister, Lucy opened the concert, making it possible for me to say that I’ve seen all of the Wainwright children perform. (Martha opening for Gomez at Webster Hall was an unexpected surprise.) While hearing her sing and play guitar, one could only conclude that there are some serious talent genes in this family.

Although a newcomer to the music business in comparison to her siblings, Lucy seemed completely at ease alone up on stage. Her voice was clean and pure in a way that remind me of a pitch-perfect french horn.

Her music and demeanor lacked the theatrical flair of her brother, and is more entrenched in traditional folk, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless.

Then came Rufus. Here’s a guy who most likely grew up being told how talented and special he was. Yet he seems to have been able to take it all in stride. He came off as personable and grounded. Easily likable but still awe-inspiring. All the while, his inborn musical ability is impossible to ignore.

Immediately following up his sister, it was evident as to what makes him stand out. Whereas Lucy’s singing was beautiful and soothingly harmonious with the space within the theatre, Rufus seemed to be able to replace the air around the audience with his voice. As if the air were saturated with his singing. I’ve heard powerful, impressive vocals such as Karen O’s eardrum piercing howls, but with Rufus it seemed to effortlessly flow from his mouth.

Since it was a solo show to an audience of devoted fans, Rufus was more willing to deviate into a set-list of b-sides and rarities. While that made it feel all the more special and intimate, it caused a few hiccups during the show. His performance of 11:11 (a favorite of mine) started off as great as I’d imagine but melted down in the end because he couldn’t remember the lyrics.

Still, it was incredibly enjoyable to be able to catch performances of Poses, California and the magnificent cover of Hallelujah. Those were the songs that introduced me to Rufus Wainwright, and it was interesting to hear them again after forgetting about them for a while. I was able to see his progression over the years.

The talent and voice were always there, but it seemed that his early works relied a bit more on elaborately flourished piano playing. Nowadays, his songs tend to be more confident in the vocals and songwriting, infusing his classic music training rather than using it as a crutch. Oh, the flair for the gothic and baroque are still there, but better balanced within the songs as a whole.

There weren’t the usual concert stage divers or obnoxious flailing bodies dancing, but there were still the annoying attendees at the show. Ahem, front-row-standing-ovation-after-every-song guy and multiple-orgasm-during-every-quiet-moment-within-a-song girl.

I seem to gush over every performance I go to lately, but I find it hard to believe that anyone, even those who wouldn’t be fans of his style, could deny that the man has serious talent. It was all the more evident during a solo performance and I’d love to catch a full backing band concert soon. Hopefully I can do just that in this great city I live in. And maybe he’ll play Shadows.

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

Peach Trees

Hallelujah



photo credit: hikaru (from the Rufus Wainwright message boards)

The Long and Winding...

Today has been a Beatles-on-Shuffle day. I don’t know why; maybe it’s a come-down from the holidays madness that seems to have lasted a lot longer than 2 months.

It’s a brand new year and it feels as if everything in my life has been in flux in the past 12 months. Listening to music that I hadn’t listened to in such a long time but was so familiar with was like hearing from an old, old friend again.

Last ten songs to come up:
All You Need is Love
Thank You Girl
I’ll Follow the Sun
Cry Baby Cry
Rocky Raccoon (Anthology 3 version)
Polythene Pam
Another Girl
Free as a Bird
The Ballad of John and Yoko
Magical Mystery Tour

Babies are assholes

I don’t really know why but I’ve been very anti-kids lately. My current running joke is to loudly proclaim that babies serve absolutely no purpose to society. (My other proclamation is the title of this post which is, to me, the greatest sentiment to come out of Sex and the City.)

Maybe it’s from living in “Stroller Slope” but it can’t be the sole reason since I don’t actually spend a whole lot of time in my neighborhood.

I think I’ve just grown tired of getting steamrolled by strollers when parents are coming out of store entrances. Or having to deal with getting constantly bumped by the implausibly large bags that parents absent-mindedly swing around while trying to corral their screaming kids.

It’s not that I even hate all kids. My twin cousins are a riot and I love them to death. They are the smartest, cutest, most delightful beings I’ve ever met. And it’s not a family bias because I can’t even keep track of the number of bratty, annoying cousins that I’d love to inflict some serious character-developing pain onto.

I admit that other kids can be great too. I sat on the F train this weekend and observed a man with a 3 year old boy who was charming the pants off of everyone around him. He was reciting funny stories or songs and offering up his dad’s iPod earbuds to fellow passengers causing every woman to coo at him.

But then directly across from him were parents with two out of control terrors. The parents looked like wrecks; the father had resigned to clutching the son’s jacket by the hood while the boy flailed around, effectively choking him at times. The mom just sat and stared at the daughter who had developed an awesome talent of kicking other riders’ possessions.

And that’s what it comes down to. Most of the kids that I want to strangle are the ones that are out of control, with the parents too oblivious, exhausted or inconsiderate enough to reel them in. So I know the blame really goes to the parents but it’s hard not to hate the uncoordinated, spit-stained scream-factories buried in Gap Kids wear.

I’m also aware that I’m being supremely critical without any first-hand knowledge of the hell that parents go through. I’ll probably be guilty of all the things I’m ranting about.

But screw all that. For now, I’m single and childless and I just want to get where I’m going without having to dodge out-of-control strollers or get tripped up by tots running wildly on the sidewalks. So parents: Stay out of my way and get your shit together!

Autumn, I hardly knew ye

It is currently 37 degrees with the sun out. I’ve grudgingly accepted the fact that the fall season in New York lasted about 36 hours this year.

I’ve definitely noticed that my mood has been affected by the weather more so than ever before. The short days and biting wind have kept me depressed and sour for the past few weeks.

I used to hear about people in Seattle being chronically depressed due to the constant rain, and I would scoff. I guess I never truly believed that climate could affect one's mood.

Of course I used to live in Texas where we were never without climate controlled environments for more than a few minutes. It was always a balmy 76 degrees in our cars and in our central-air houses.

Now having a few Northeast winters under my belt, I can say that I've learned a little more each time. I’ve been a little more prepared for onset of each winter. Last year was a respectable coat and warm socks. This year continues that trend with my splurging on $60 earmuffs.

Yes. $60. For earmuffs.

Cashmere earmuffs, and they’re grrrreat. I’ve used them twice and my ears are toasty and warm.

I struggled with the decision to buy them for a while. I walked past them a few times, even got to the front entrance of the store. But then memories of last winter, fighting the wind while trying to walk up the street, trying to burrow myself into my coat, and the vivid sensation of stinging cold on my ears kept me coming back to the earmuffs.

I can’t even imagine my parents dishing out $60 for a whole sweater, yet I had to have the earmuffs. I don’t think I will even be able to tell them the price because I can already picture the astonished looks on their faces.

I’m tempted to flaunt my new arsenal of warm clothes at winter and say "Bring it on, bitch!" but I know that I’m still a wuss when it comes to the cold and will just meekly hope that winter will just take this year off and leave us New Yorkers alone.

Review: Radiohead’s In Rainbows

Even though it’s been over 4 years since their last release, Radiohead somehow manage to stay in the forefront of modern alternative’s elite. So naturally, it’s quite a big deal when they finally release an album.

I’m sure reviews of In Rainbows will litter the internets quickly; but as for my first listen impressions, this is a great Radiohead album. I don’t quite consider it their best ever as greenplastic does... yet. It would take quite a lot to wrestle my affections away from OK Computer.

In this record, Radiohead gets about as close to sounds they created in The Bends since... well, The Bends. I doubt this was an accident. Thom’s first lyrics are “How come I end up where I started?”

Focusing less on electronic elements and bringing in more orchestration and (gasp) guitars, they retain the mantle of greatness we’ve all thrust upon them. But something’s different. The band sounds almost upbeat and happy. Or about as happy as Radiohead can sound. There’s still an aura of melancholy, but In Rainbows is a noticeable departure from their ominous landscapes of pending (or post) apocalypse and the general downfall of mankind.

Street Spirit, with it’s lyrics “Immerse yourself in love” could fit right in on this album, and I think a lot of people are going to be happy about that. Me, I’ve grown to love Hail to the Thief as much as any of their records and am just glad to have some more Radiohead material.

Stand outs for me so far are Reckoner, House of Cards and All I Need.

Arthur & Yu at Soundfix Records, 10/1/07

I recently discovered the debut album, In Camera, by the Seattle indie/folk group Arthur & Yu. I’m a sucker for harmonies, especially guy and girl duos, so this was right up my alley.

Last night, I was lucky enough to catch them playing a set at Soundfix Records in Williamsburg, on apparently their first national tour. After my last concert (at Madison Square Garden), it was refreshing to go watch a show in a small intimate venue. I was actually sitting next to the lead singer, Grant Olsen watching him write out the setlist at the bar. That doesn’t exactly happen at MSG.

The café at Soundfix was charming and friendly. It made me want to hang out in Williamsburg more often; if only it weren’t such a pain in the ass to get to.

The band drew a decent crowd into the café, and definitely grew more relaxed as the show went on. The live renditions of their songs were done well, a bit louder and more vibrant than the mellowness of the album.

The band members are definitely low-key personas. No Karen O’s in this group. At one point the female singer, Sonya Wescott, actually apologized for being “the shyest band you’ll probably ever see”. How can you not love these guys after a statement like that?

It’s rare that I find an album that I enjoy thoroughly, but this was one of them. It was nice to hear just about every song live, including my favorites Lion’s Mouth and There Are Too Many Birds, but definitely wished to hear them do The Ghost of Old Bull Lee. Alas, maybe next time.