Food for thought

I love food. I love tasting new dishes. I love talking with friends about what they eat. I love cooking. I love watching cooking shows. I wander around in gourmet grocery stores with the same lust that I once had for toy stores.

That wasn’t always the case. There was a time when my mom would have to basically force feed me. I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the dinner table until I begrudgingly finished off every single grain of rice. This was in high school.

I used to bemoan the fact that someone hadn’t invented some sort of tablet to swallow that would supplant the need to eat anything for the entire day. “Imagine how much time and energy would be saved if we didn’t have to focus on eating three times a day,” I would fantasize to myself.

I consider my dad to be the biggest eating enthusiasts. Any family event or celebration would inevitably be centered around food. Wedding... Big ass feast. Birthday... Fancy steak house. Sunday... Korean Barbeque. Nothing pleased my relatives more than sitting around a large round table and devouring a menagerie of dishes.

But I couldn’t escape fast enough. Eating was the biggest inconvenience in my life. My friend’s dad once commented that I eat like a bird: “just enough to fly”.

There were a few things I did enjoy, such as McDonald’s and Pizza. But those preferences may have had more to do with the perks, like the toys that came along with Happy Meals or playing video games after choking down a few slices. Junk food and ice cream were typical fares I would tolerate. One vivid memory I have is my youngest uncle teaching me the ritual of finishing a helping of potato chips was to lick the salt and oil off my fingers and then wipe them off on my tshirt underneath my armpit. Needless to say my mom was quite horrified to observe this behavior.

Then something happened over time. I OD’ed on instant ramen in college, fast food take-out didn’t taste as good anymore, and the visual of pools of oil on top of my pizza started to turn my stomach.

Living on my own was a big factor. Spending my own hard earned money on groceries rather than, say CDs, meant that I valued the food much more. I slowly learned to appreciate the effort in cooking. I also noticed how watching friends resort to a dinner of chips and salsa upset me more than I ever thought it would.

There were of course bumps along the way. I once cooked pork chops for my then-girlfriend, proudly presented it in front of her, only to have her exclaim “Where are the sides? The vegetables?! We’re just going to have meat?” It had honestly never occurred to me before what the concept of a balanced meal was.

Moving to New York City also was another integral influence in my foodie progression. Due to crippling poverty at the time, Food Network was an invaluable (and somehow free) source of entertainment. Although whenever Rachel Ray would show her aggravating grin, I’d turn to Friends reruns on the WB. Grrr, just the thought of her again makes me want to punch her in the face. Although I never tried to emulate any of the meals on the shows, I noticed I was absorbing all kinds of tidbits and info that they dished out while preparing the meals. I watched just about every program on that channel with enjoyment. But Iron Chef is just too stressful for me. I notice my hands clenched into fists as I watch the frantic slicing and dicing.

During this time, I also discovered how this city is not geared for people to cook at home. Restaurants literally line every single block. Grocery stores are few and far in between. Even then, the quality of the food is questionable, and the temperament of the employees makes the notion of shopping nauseating. On top of all that, the kitchens in apartments are ridiculously small. Many times in my first apartment, I’d have to prep one part of a recipe, clean up in order to have room to prep the next part, clean up again and then cook. I only really noticed this issue when I went back home to visit family in Texas. The island counter in their kitchens would be the size of my entire kitchen area.

Along the way, I developed an interest in finer things related to cooking, mainly using better ingredients. I realized that the little things go a long way in turning a decent meal into a great one.

One of the things I looked forward to going back to Texas was visiting Central Market, an upscale grocery store, so that I could stock up on bulk spices. Is that totally geeky or what? I also bought a contraption that houses herbs in the fridge and keeps them fresh two weeks longer. Complete dork? Check.

While I’ve become steadily more comfortable with cooking, I’d hardly boast being any good at it. It doesn’t seem to come naturally to me. Unlike some of my friends who can adventurously whip up improvised concoctions, I need the reassurance of a recipe. Even then, I have to be very organized about my prep work. I once tried to wing Chicken Fettuccini and nearly had a heart attack trying to manage pots and pans on all four stove burners.

I was also lucky enough to find A., who is a food enthusiast that probably rivals my dad. In her, I found a buddy to indulge in all our appreciations. We’d spend lunches together describing the previous night’s dinners. And actually be interested in it. We’d go to Whole Foods and she’d gush over the fresh cheese section. I’d drool over the crab cakes.

We’re such dorks that we’d text each other what we’re having for dinner. And the other would text back and excitedly ask for more details.

For example...
My text: Just made wild swrdfsh n portugese sauce 4 dinnr!!
Her reply: Yay! Is it amazing???

As with everything in New York, no matter how intense one’s obsession is, there’s always someone else that takes it to the next level. Not just aficionados but any aspect of food has been scrutinized. Vegetarians, vegans, fair-trade activists, co-op members, restaurant critics (professional and the internets kind), local-vores. It’s amazing. And 10 years ago I wouldn’t have understood any of it.

But now I do.

I realize that eating (and cooking) aren’t just a chore, but a means for people to connect with each other. Think of all the social interactions that revolve around a meal: catching up with friends, special occasions, family barbecues, and of course dating.

This past Thanksgiving I ended up hosting dinner for all of my friends who weren’t going home for the holiday. There was something very satisfying about having a bustling kitchen crammed with my friends. Not everyone knows what they’re doing exactly, but everyone contributes and there are smiles on every face. I’m lucky enough to have a place that has become a hub for many friend dinners and I’ll treasure the fond memories they bring.

You couldn’t get that with a food-supplement tablet.

So tonight’s menu: Chimichurri Marinated Beef Flank Steak with Bell Peppers, Onions and Yellow Cucumbers over Jasmine Rice. Mmmmm!




(Amazing photos are taken from 101 Cookbooks, which continually has the most tantalizing food photos I’ve ever seen. I drool over my keyboard everytime.)

Thievery Corporation at Central Park Summerstage, 06/26/08

I got a brief taste of Thievery Corporation years ago at Austin City Limits. More familiar to their chill and groove sounds, I was surprised by how the live performance translated into such a high energy, exciting show. Their set was only 40 minutes so I was left salivating for more.

Fast forward a few years and I finally got a chance to see them again at Summerstage in Central Park. It was another outdoor venue and billed as a full band show which also featured Seu Jorge. My expectations were sky-high.

Despite forecasts of rain and dark skies all afternoon, the weather ended up being perfect: no rain and not too hot. Between this and the Yankee game that also miraculously went rain-free, I must’ve built up some serious weather karma. Getting absolutely drenched on the way to Murakami might’ve done it.

I wasn’t aware that there were three opening acts to Thievery Corporation and I feel as though I spent most of the night watching stage hands set up and take down equipment. Boo.

But I was pleasantly surprised at the first act, Federico Aubele, a latin guitar player and singer with hints of electronica. His music drew heavily from his homeland, Argentina, and I enjoyed his performance much more than the other two acts. Best song IMO was Esta Noche. He’s definitely worth checking out.

And of course there’s Thievery Corporation. Their setup was exactly how I remember, two percussionists, the same tall, lanky bassist, a sitar/guitar player, a horn section, and as the centerpiece a spacious DJ setup.

They pulled out all the stops, utilizing 7 different lead vocalists/rappers, which doesn’t even count their special guest, Seu Jorge. The belly dancer was the best addition to the show. Of the few that I’ve seen, she was by far the best. Her moves had the entire audience hypnotized. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous and voluptuous. I can’t fail to mention that she had absolutely ripped abs. Seriously, I was kind of jealous.

By the time Thievery Corporation came on, I was hoping the sound guys would’ve been able to work out their issues. Heavy feedback from the mics was a problem throughout the night and had an obvious effect on all of the singers’ concentration. There also seemed to be issues with singers hearing themselves. The first two vocalists were severely off key and visibly struggling with the speakers around them. I doubt it was the fault of the singers because their subsequent performances were flawless. Needless to say I was pretty disappointed with the crew.

The other major disappointment was the shortness of the concert. Central Park has a strict 10pm curfew so Thievery Corporation were only on for about 90 minutes and unable to come back on for an encore. I came into the show expecting something closer to 2 hours. Each singer was only able to do 2 or 3 songs, and “special guest” Seu Jorge only really did one song! He did back up vocals on a second, but come on! The round-robin aspect of so many singers seems pretty rare in a live show; I just wish there was more time for each one.

Of all the vocalists, without question the most impressive was Sleepy Wonder, the reggae rapper. His explosive, rapid-fire, staccato deliveries were some of the most unique I’d ever heard in rap.

It’s strange how Thievery Corporation consists of two the DJs, Rob Garza and Eric Hilton, but the shows focus so much more on the vocalists and instrumentalists. Usually a DJ set is comprised solely of a couple of DJs at turntables. Which is why I sometimes struggle to describe the “band”. I resist calling it electronic because their sounds are so much more organic, and not relying on synthesized elements. They infuse sounds from so many other countries and cultures but I can’t call it world music. Like the term “alternative”, I feel that the genre “electronica” is used for such a wide range that it pretty much fails to adequately describe most musicians that are lumped into the category.

All I can say is that I’ve been listening to their albums for almost 10 years now... (Yes, pre-Garden State era. God, it’s amazing how much I loathe that soundtrack now. Funny thing is I was listening to just about every band on that album beforehand. I guess I really am a music snob.) ...Anyway, I’ve always loved the music that Thievery produce and how they continually explore new avenues. I’ll also say that they’re one of the few acts that I wouldn’t hesitate to see again and again whenever they come around. Their shows are an amazing spectacle and I’m glad they’ve pulled out all the stops the two times I’ve seen them.

Now if only they’d play longer sets.

I Love New York (Magazine)

Greatest. Cover. Ever.

linky

Olafur Eliasson : “Take Your Time” exhibit and Paul Chan : “The 7 Lights” exhibit

It’s a funny coincidence that the past two art shows I saw featured light installations. Olafur Eliasson’s Take Your Time at the MoMA and Paul Chan’s The 7 Lights at the New Museum on Bowery were each interesting experiences but I wasn’t blown away by either one.

Chan’s light projections onto walls, ceilings and floors utilized silhouettes of people and objects which created surreal moments that ranged from humorous to horrific. Objects alternately floated upward from the ground or fell from the sky. Not having been in New York at the time, I sheepishly admit to needing a friend to point out the allusion to 9/11 of the figures plummeting to the ground. Chan was obviously infusing references to the Gulf War and political events with outlines of oil tankers, guns and gas station pumps.

What intrigued me the most was Chan’s altering of perception. Perspective was intentionally skewed by having objects move in different directions. He was obscuring our ability to tell which way was up or down. The light projectors were positioned in places that allowed for passer-bys to incorporate their own shadows moving across the images, creating yet another possible orientation.

The 1st Light piece was a strong example of his focus on light and dark. As a designer, negative space is something that is considered as strong and integral element as positive space. (Geeky Designer Fun Fact: ever notice the white arrow created in the nook of the E and x in the FedEx logo?) With this piece, one could stare that this light projection on the dark floor and see it as a hole or window down into a lit area below. Or it could be perceived as an illuminated surface sitting above the black floor.

I’m assuming that is the correct interpretation of the strikethrough in the title. The exhibit is about light but is also equally about the absence on light. Like when we focus our eyes on something distant and then focus on something near, we have the ability to shift how our eyes and brains see things.

This was my first venture into the New Museum, which has been getting mixed reviews. I will say that I try to take any art seriously and examine it for its merits. But in this case, my friend and I had to agree that much of what was featured in the rest of the museum just seemed like the result of an angst-ridden, shallow junior high art class.

As for Eliasson’s exhibit at the MoMA, the light installations weren’t the sole component of his work, but seem to me the most successful and striking portions.

The introduction to the exhibit was pretty effective: viewers ride the escalator upwards, see a yellow light seeping out from above, and upon entering get immersed in a yellow hued room. All other color is obliterated by the yellow lights. Clothes, skin tones, everything becomes monochromatic. The effort was somewhat stunted by the propagation of Photoshop and digital cameras that can achieve this visual effect on the fly. Sadly, instead of it being a mind-blowing experience, it’s more of a “wow, that’s pretty cool” moment.



What was successful, in my opinion, was how Eliasson was able to use these environments to incorporate the viewers into the art. People weren’t standing in a big yellow room amazed at the walls, they were reacting to themselves and each other bathed in the light. Again and again, through the use of mirrors, light rooms or even just a blowing fan whimsically swinging around just above people’s heads, Eliasson created art that could only really exists through the interaction of the viewer.

In the giant prism room, viewers could watch their shadows playfully shift along the wall. I stood completely still and observed my form fade in and out of multi-colored light, multiply and slide across the room. The photographs fail to do the room justice. My pictures make it look like a cheap computer effect but the personal experience is much more impressive.



My favorite moment was trying to photograph a little girl in the 360 degree color spectrum room. As you could imagine with any small child, it was tough to get a good shot of her since she was romping around the entire room. I was also trying to be discreet and not look like some creepy pedophile. I tried my best...





I was alternately impressed and annoyed with the use of both the MoMA and P.S.1 spaces for the exhibit. Trekking out to Queens was a bit tedious but I was also glad to finally see such a great space. I loved how they’re using an old school building as a first-class museum. Good work, people!

More photos are up on my Flickr page.

Sigur Rós at the Grand Ballroom, 06/16/08

Last night, after years of enduring envy-causing accounts of friends attending amazing Sigur Rós concerts, I was able to catch the Icelandic band at the Grand Ballroom in Manhattan. While I usually try to not have too much of a buildup in my expectations, I just couldn’t help expecting a mind-blowing experience. To their credit, Sigur Rós lived up to my prediction.

The band revels in intense and epic music which can be too much for anyone not completely on board with their sound. Still, I imagine it’d be hard not to get swept up in the beauty of their sound. I can only use Arcade Fire as a comparable live act. Neither band waste a single second of the show to fill the entire venue with energy and sonic power. Arcade Fire’s approach seems to be a bit more frantic, something I would compare to being in an unrelenting earthquake, whereas Sigur Rós is like being hit with a constant cascade of tidal waves.

The night started with Helgi Hrafn Jónsson performing solo. It turns out he’s the trombone accompanist for Sigur Rós but he was impressive enough for me to buy his EP. He hails from Iceland like the main act, but actually sings in English.

Sigur Rós opened with my favorite tune, Svefn-g-englar. Thus, within the first 5 minutes of the show I actually felt like crying. I almost wished they had saved the song for later, worried that the rest of the night would be a letdown for me. The band sounded a bit rusty on the opener, possibly needing a warm up, but they only got better as the concert went on.

Jón þor Birgisson’s vocals are simply incredible. Listening to the albums, I’m constantly amazed at the levels he can take his voice to, which is just as stunning in person. I also loved that the band brought along a string quartet and a brass section. Every show should use live musicians over synthesized orchestration in my opinion. It adds an integral dimension to the music. Especially for Sigur Rós; I couldn’t imagine their sound being as impactful without that fuller sound.

Birgisson used his trademark bow on his guitar but it was nice to see the band shuffle in different instruments throughout the night. My favorites were the tiny toy piano which created a distinctive chinking sound and the xylophones. It’s the accoutrements in music that totally do it for me. I think I love Radiohead’s No Surprises mainly for the xylophone in the background.

The highlight of the show was definitely Hafssól. Georg Holm started everything off using a drum stick on his bass guitar to create a hypnotic and driving rhythm, which led to a 12-minute buildup into an orgy of sound and light.

The band ended their set with a tune I didn’t recognize but it was requested that everyone stand up and clap along. I can only describe it as a song that could’ve felt right at home in a European pub where all the regulars sing and dance while getting sloshed. It was a nice indicator that the band aren’t too pompous or pretentious about their art.

For the encore, the band played another epic, Popplagið. Again, it was an instance of a song with a gradual build up to a big payoff, but it was another of several moments in the night that I felt like my heart was swelling up from the beauty and intensity of their music. Birgisson’s vocals were on full display and were truly awe-inspiring.

I also have to note that the light effects for the concert were the best I’d ever experienced. They were simple and fit the mood of the music perfectly. The lights were subtle in the quiet moments and blinding during the explosively loud ones.

Sigur Rós plays another show tonight at the MoMA, which I would be 100% for attending if it weren’t already sold out.

Popplagið

Seriously?!

In another installment of beautiful living spaces that make me retch with jealousy is this loft. Not sure exactly if I’d feel “homey” in this space, but the designer in me is geeking out. Nice touches were the hammock, towel rack right under the sink to hide the plumbing and the rock garden floor of the shower. Damn, people!

O yeah!

Congrats, Obama! Now go kick a 71 year old’s ass.

WTF?!?

Today my coworker, K., who I’ve quickly become friends with and care for, got canned. No two weeks notice, no severance. Not even ‘til the end of the week! It’s freaking Tuesday!

While I could tally a lengthy laundry list of ghetto, somewhat illegal, and downright idiotic things that have occurred at this company, I have to say that I am genuinely stunned. To just drop a dedicated employee like a rock with no notice is so low.

I’m sorry, K.! If there’s any justice in this world, you’ll someday be uber-successful and prosperous, and you’ll look back on this shitty day and laugh.

Takashi Murakami : “©Murakami” exhibit

It was interesting to catch the Takashi Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art after seeing Cai's show at the Guggenheim. The two are contemporary, well regarded Asian artists with wildly different views.

They were almost representatives of how different the two New York boroughs operate. Manhattan has always been about the crème de la crème and its museums are no exception. Renown without equal, they consistently feature the most famous, most revered artists of any time period. The art is always brilliant and significant, but also tends to be a bit safe and respectable. Brooklyn has always had a more off-kilter approach to everything. Not emulating or competing with Manhattan, I feel allows it to do more daring things. Case in point, the Brooklyn Museum offers shows that can be more controversial and surprising. As any form of gambling, sometimes that pays off, sometimes it doesn’t.

So where does the ©Murakami show wind up in that spectrum? Acknowledged as the “Japanese Warhol”, Murakami mines from popular culture, specifically Japan. But he also blurs the line between an artist and a salesperson. Having his own product line, and collaborating with Louis Vuitton to have an operational store as the centerpiece of the exhibit is definitely a topic of debate. I had my doubts but was open to see what he had to say.

There’s no denying the influence of consumerism into every facet of our lives, and Murakami is tapping into that. But I struggled to see the basis and result of his exploration. Paintings with the LV logo seamlessly incorporated into the work seems to be more of an endorsement of product placement and the infiltration of corporations into the arts.

I guess I’m biased by my own views, but I was wanting to see a stronger commentary behind it all, of which I didn’t get. Perhaps it could be argued that Murakami is trying to project an objective view and allow us to judge for ourselves.

But it still seems like BS to me. It comes back to the Louis Vuitton store. Murakami is obviously an intelligent person, so one could say this is a very self-aware gesture. But it also stinks of a feint, saying “Oh yes, we know it’s ironic, that’s the point... So you still want to buy one of our branded thousand dollar purses?” I smell the stench of corporate sales in the guise of fine art. I just don’t buy the gimmick. Just because something’s in a museum doesn’t mean it’s art.

It didn’t help his case that while I was viewing the exhibit, several dolled-up Japanese glamour girls pranced into the museum and bee-lined to the store without giving a single glance at the work on the walls. I wish I had may camera to capture the one who was hefting a shopping bag that was large enough to fit a full-grown human.

Another aspect of the exhibit that didn’t exactly work for me were the sculpted anime figures. Again, I found a lack of story behind the work. Why was he showing us these pieces? Manga and anime have an unfortunate history of exploiting women (or pre-teen girls) which is ripe for us to dissect and discuss. But it seemed like Murakami was just feeding into the objectification of females, like the Miss Ko2 figurines that literally transform into an object. Miss Ko2’s vagina being front and center as the nose of the jet cannot be a happy coincidence. “Hello, clitoris! Yes, I see you!”

Lest I be interpreted as a condemner of anime/manga, I would point to examples such as Ghost in the Shell or Neon Genesis Evangelion which manage to use the medium of anime to explore compelling and complex ideas without resorting to nude schoolgirls (okay, almost). Evangelion in particular delves into heavy Biblical iconography to craft concepts that, even years after the series ended, are still debated and dissected. I could spend hours trying to extrapolate the deep, nuanced meanings within the series, but fail to achieve the same result in this exhibit.

I don’t want to totally dismiss Murakami because I think there are some great, great ideas floating around in his work. I loved the combined use of the smiling flowers and the skulls as arbiters of life and death.

The So Many Flowers room was an impressive experience. The smiley face flower wallpaper (and subsequent jelly eyeball pattern) made me feel like I was trapped in some warped nursery room. I’m surprised the wallpaper wasn’t for sale, although I could imagine any parent worrying about their child developing schizophrenia by spending too much time immersed in that imagery.

And I don’t want to dog his explicitness of sexual content. There is a wealth of great art that centers around sex and the human form. Phallic and vaginal symbolism don’t offend me. But streaming jets of semen and lactation just fail resonate in the same way.

I think his most successful and intriguing piece of the show was in the entrance of the museum. The Tongari-kun figure pulls symbolism from traditional Buddhist sources but modernizes the subject with the pop culture style of current Japan. Traditional Japanese figures were substituted with bouncy, smiley cartoons. The iconic language of Pokémon and anime took new meaning when put into this context, which I thought was genius. I saw it as his most realized attempt to meld hi/low, traditional/modern Japanese art.

That’s what I wanted to see in Murakami. And less corporate sponsorship. Seriously, $4.95 for a bottlecap-sized button??

Cai Guo-Qiang : “I Want to Believe” exhibit

Leave it to me to wait until the second to last day to catch the staggeringly beautiful exhibit, I Want to Believe at the Guggenheim Museum. I say “staggeringly” because I literally had to keep myself from toppling over while I craned my neck up the main rotunda with my mouth gaping to view the centerpiece of the show: nine cars with streaming light fixtures protruding from the frame while being suspended in the air.

My first impression was that I was standing within a 3-dimensional Eadweard Muybridge photograph, chronicling the movement of a kinetic event. It seemed to be a portrayal of a singular event: a car being propelled into the air, exploding and then settling back down on the top floor.

Delving further into the exhibit caused me to realize that the explosion was the main focus of the piece, and not the cars. To Cai, the violent and sudden act is what he wanted to explore. Through the viewing of the rest of his work, including The Century with Mushroom Clouds and Project for Extraterrestrials, it’s clear that the message is in his use of gunpowder and other explosive materials. The video footage of his fireworks-esque environmental art displayed how he’s viewing the explosions as an act of creation, forming shapes and paths within the clouds of smoke and fire.

I’m not sure if his use of gunpowder and fireworks is a nod towards his Chinese heritage, but it is a potent medium to convey his ideas of spontaneous creation through a source normally associated with destruction.

Though the more I stewed on this thought, the more his concept made sense. There have been other instances of such ideas, including the mythical phoenix reborn from its fiery ashes and the Big Bang theory. Birth through death or nothingness.

His views of a sudden release of force also relates to some ideas of evolution. The general perception behind evolution is that change is gradual and takes eons to occur, but some changes are spurred by catastrophic events or drastic genetic mutations.

His gunpowder and paper artwork struck me as evidence towards the idea of the controlled chaos. His explosions were meticulously designed and staged at each point. Although I couldn’t decipher the Chinese writing, I got the impression that the notes surrounding each stage of every piece was a way to convey how each moment was scrutinized. Yet Cai brilliantly allows for the organic and unpredictable path to occur. He knows he cannot fully control the outcome, but that’s the point. (While viewing a video of an elaborate chain-linked explosion, I had an inexplicable image of Wile E. Coyote setting off some scheme that always careened off into unexpected results.)

It’s not about control, but progress. He spurs the evolution but doesn’t seek to confine it. The car exploding and propelling up to the top floor isn’t about where it ends up but about the fireworks that happen during the event.

I also wonder if his choice of the automobile had to do with the technology of the combustion engine but that’s for me to conclude.

I’m also curious to know what his affinity for the number 9 could be. There are 9 cars, and he used 9 tigers and 99 wolves in his past Inopportune pieces. There’s a wealth of iconography behind the number which can and has been explored. I know that it’s a number that John Lennon and Charles Manson were obsessed with. I leave it up to others to decide which of those two to associate Cai with.

In the end, I concluded that Cai’s view is that of optimism. Despite gunpowder’s potential for destruction, he uses it as a means of creation and jolting us into change. Whether it leads to something good or bad, that’s left to each of us to decide, but he wants to believe that it’s the former.

As a side note, I swear that I will experience a scaffolding-less Guggenheim before I leave New York, even if it kills me. Between this and the MoMA’s Richard Serra show, I feel blessed to be able to live in this city and catch such amazing work.

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