Um... McCain... WTF?

When I learned of McCain’s morning announcement of Palin as his running mate, I thought it was a pretty shrewd move to undercut some of the attention and support garnered on the Democrats’ side. Then I read up on her qualifications (or lack thereof).

Seriously, what the fuck is McCain thinking? What are the possible benefits of putting Palin on the GOP ticket?

A first time governor of Alaska with no foreign policy experience is not someone I want next in line for the role of Leader of the Free World, when that role would be occupied by a 72 year old with a history of cancer issues. In addition, her short tenure has already run into controversy.

So depth of experience wasn’t a selling factor, what about ideology? A pro-life, pro-drilling for oil in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge (did I mention she’s governor of Alaska?), lifetime member of the NRA sounds right up the GOP’s alley. Except McCain was actually against the oil drilling. Unlike Biden, who helps round out the thin area’s of Obama’s resume, McCain picked someone that really contributes nothing to expanding his base. If anything, I could see Palin turning off many of the ultra-conservative voters who were probably in McCain’s favor to begin with.

Which leaves us with the most regrettable possibility: McCain picked Palin because she’s a woman. My initial reaction to the announcement was that he was vying for Hillary supporters. That was until I read past the headlines. How could any dedicated Hillary voter not look at this action as an insult? If this was in fact McCain’s strategy, then it is disturbingly shortsighted and off-target. A woman VP might initially seem like a good step towards gender equality, but a woefully unqualified one could do more harm than good.

If he wanted a woman to garner votes, then why not Kay Bailey Hutchinson, a Republican who has exponentially more respect and experience than Palin? The fact that he didn’t leaves me to think that he wanted not a viable running mate who happened to be female, but a female running mate who wouldn’t threaten his position of superiority. If that’s the case, then every intelligent, self-respecting American (man or woman) should be appalled that John McCain is even anywhere near Oval Office.

I can’t even begin to imagine what the VP debate is going to look like. How is she going to stack up against Biden? The seasoned Senator (who is chairman of the FOREIGN RELATIONS COMMITTEE) is going to eat her alive. Despite my Democratic leanings, I find myself actually scared for her.

Am I a sexist, anti-feminist for wondering whether or not this action is a sick joke? Palin’s gender isn’t even the problem for me. Anyone who is a stone’s throw away from the Presidency needs to be scrutinized for his or her qualifications. It’s never been an issue for me whether that person is a man or a woman, or black or white. But Senator, I have a sense that is very much an issue for you.

People are smart

Although instances such as Reality TV, the proliferation of people who talk like valley girls, and the Republican party cause me to fear the downfall of civilization, there are a few glimmers of ingenuity that truly impress me.

My morning NPR podcast was one such moment.

The story explores how a programmer who helped develop a common security measure for the web found a way to utilize it for an unexpected and beneficial secondary purpose.

If you’ve purchased concert tickets on the web (something I’ve done way too often) you’ll be familiar with the Word Verification System that requires you to type in a word that is displayed in order to prove that you’re not some inhuman, malicious ticket-hoarding program.

The programmer realized that the words being identified could be from scanned books set to be digitized but were too badly distorted or degraded for OCR programs to decipher. Thus allowing people like me to contribute to the collective knowledge of the internets albeit unknowingly.

I’m basically paraphrasing the article so go read for yourself and be impressed.

Radiohead at All Points West Festival, 08/08/08

I endure a lot to see Radiohead. I wasn’t exactly excited to find out that my first chance in the past five years to see them was going to be at the All Points West Music Festival.

After three consecutive years of Austin City Limits, I discovered I had quickly outgrown the festival scene. This Friday was a refresher on why. Waiting an hour to get ferried to the site and into the park, getting rained on, then exposed to the baking sun, staking out a decent spot 4 hours in advance, having to stand in that spot (without being able to hit a bathroom) for another 3 hours, surrounded by douchebags, being pushed around by people trying to force their way into the front at the last minute, and then spending another 2 hours making my way back home, is all-in-all way too much to go through just to see a band.

But it’s Radiohead.

They are, to me, still the greatest band around today. Which they proved on Friday. It’s easy to get complacent and take for granted just how incredible they are. Ever since The Bends, it’s assumed that they will create mind-blowing music, and for the most part they haven’t disappointed. Although Kid A, Amnesiac and Hail to the Thief each received subsequently less fanfare, I still contend that any other band would’ve sold their soul to have created any of those albums, which would’ve been met with a torrent of praise.

I’ve also read how Radiohead basically failed to live up to the projected mantle of “Savior of Rock and Roll”. Supposedly after OK Computer, they were predicted to be the next Nirvana and reclaim whatever it is that was perceived to be lost. Instead, they dabbled in electronica and ambience while shrinking out of the spotlight.

Though in my opinion, Radiohead never sought out to be the “Biggest Band in the World”. Instead, they’ve used their leverage to do exactly what they want to do on their terms. Everyone should be so lucky. I love how they haven’t been complacent about their sound and have continued to explore. Also, the fact that they’ve been a rare presence just means that they haven’t over-saturated our lives and when they do pop their heads up, it becomes a special moment.

As for the show itself, I had forgotten how solid the band are as performers. Thom’s vocals are impeccable as one would assume, but I’m always impressed by Colin on bass and Phil on drums. This band steers away from the typical just-keep-a-beat approach. I could’ve spent the entire time mesmerized by the complex, syncopated rhythms being performed. That is if I weren’t still so enamored with Jonny’s guitar playing. I completely relate to his thin, lanky frame and hunched over posture. I don’t think he looked up once, letting his hair veil his face the entire time. Yet he was far from stoic, constantly swaying convulsively to the beat and attacking his guitar with forceful strumming. Even when he was playing a contraption that looked like an old telephone operator’s station during a quiet, slow song, he was bobbing back and forth almost schizophrenically.

As a complete counter to Jonny was Ed on the other end of the stage. He stood still, was sleekly dressed and reacted with the audience. It was then that I noticed how different each band member seemed. In my head, I started to categorize where each of them would live if they were in New York. Jonny would no doubt be in Williamsburg, Ed would be an Upper East Sider, Colin in the Village, Phil in the Upper West Side and Thom... Well, I have no idea where Thom would fit in. I just imagine him being referred to by strangers as “that funny, little man”. That is if he weren’t the front man for Fucking Radiohead.

I cannot write about the show without mentioning the lighting on the stage. I thought that the Sigur Rós show had impressive effects but Radiohead upped the ante significantly. Whereas the lighting for Sigur Rós was a great compliment to the performance, Radiohead’s light and visual setup was a work of art. They literally played within an art installation, composed of long fluorescent tubes of light and video displays. The screens were a good way to see the band members up close but it was never dull or repetitive how they presented them. My descriptions won’t do it justice but the experience was breathtaking.

The band, as expected, played most of the numbers off of their latest release, In Rainbows, but I was surprised at how enthused the audience was to hear songs from the Kid A and Amnesiac era.

I also think that anyone who criticizes Radiohead of not being a rock band anymore should listen to There, There which is as much a hard rocking song that any they produced in their “guitar days”. I’m still mystified as to why Hail to the Thief was so panned as more straying from OK Computer guitars that everyone wanted. 2+2=5 and Go to Sleep are great songs that heavily feature guitars. Radiohead just can’t win.

The live performance of House of Cards was a reinforcement on the sheer beauty of that song, and what was interesting was to hear that number in contrast to the performance of Climbing Up the Walls. It was hard to believe that these two songs were by the same band. House of Cards casted such a mellow, dreamy aura while Climbing Up the Walls created horrific imagery. Looking back, it’s easy to see how they produced OK Computer as a harbinger of doom. While hypnotic and beautiful, the album was a tale of terror and despair. Which is all the more disturbing when I hear an entire festival audience singing along with Thom to Paranoid Android. It was a very surreal moment.

I have to admit a bit of hipster snobbery coming out within me when I see frat boys singing along to Radiohead. I just wanted to yell “Fuck off. I found Radiohead first.” Yes, quite elitist of me.

It’s a little scary to me how I can still predict the upcoming song by the instrumentation. Oh, Jonny and Ed are on drums? No doubt it’s There, There. Colin on keyboard? Idioteque. Ed is holding a shaker. It’s going to be Paranoid Android.

Nude was a pretty number that quieted the crowd with it’s serene beauty, but still nothing compares to the magnificent Street Spirit which closed out the first encore. I’m glad the band hasn’t neglected the song and still acknowledges it as a powerful experience.

At two and a half hours, Radiohead definitely put on a great show and actually made me consider that all the festival bullshit I had to put up with was worth it. Anyone, even mild fans, should do whatever they can to catch this rare, live performance.

Cycle-logical

The theme this summer with my friends has been bicycles. It seems like everyone has either bought one or is talking about how much they need to get one.

One of my roommates is a cycling fanatic. I’ve never seen first-hand anyone with such passion or expertise for them. He owns at least 3 that I know of. And they’re not your Wal-Mart brand bikes either. His most recent purchase is a fold-up bicycle that was hand-made in England with customized features.

So I’ll admit that the constant enthusiasm for bicycles has rubbed off on me and I started to consider the idea of cruising around the city. While I’m perfectly happy using the subway and not really looking to be a serious cyclist, I figured it would be a great way to explore the boroughs of NYC. It’d be perfect for getting to places that aren’t easily accessible by train and as I’d travel to those destinations, I’d be above ground soaking in the environments. The alternating grimy, white tiled stations and black, soot-ridden tunnels of the MTA can get monotonous.

Also it would be a great way to get around quickly. On the first decent summer day, my friend and I walked from my Park Slope apartment to and over the Brooklyn Bridge, which while perfectly enjoyable, took about 4 hours. Fast forward a few months to when my roommate and I cruised the same path via bicycles in about 30 minutes. I was amazed at how the surroundings looked so different from this perspective.

Convinced that it’d be a good investment, I set out to a bike shop with my expert roommate. I recall having plans with a friend later that day and texting her that I was shopping for a bike but should be able to meet her in an hour or two. It should be a breeze to find a decent bike with the approval of my roommate, I thought.

How naïve that seems now. I ended up spending a good 3 to 4 hours in that store, test riding at least 6 bikes. And I didn’t even walk away with one of them. I had no idea how similar the experience was to buying a car. It’s a serious purchase and finding the right one was a nuanced affair. After all, if I was committed to dropping the amount of cash for this, shouldn’t I find one that’s just perfect?

The bike shop employee was great and helpful and I was surprised at how she nonchalantly suggested that I should take any of their bikes out for a test ride. So I hopped on the first one and was about 2 blocks away before I realized that I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

Now, everyone knows the cliché “You never forget how to ride a bike” and it’s true, but after 15 years of not being on a bicycle, I was pretty damn shaky. A few blocks further, my body had recalled some of the motor functions necessary to propel me in a somewhat normal fashion, which allowed me to realize that I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING SOHO. Could there be any worse location to try to re-acclimate myself to riding? Between the narrow, cobbled streets, the psychotically aggressive cab drivers, and the gawking, meandering hordes of tourists, I felt every thing around me was a potential death trap.

It was then that I also realized I hadn’t been provided a helmet.

Things weren’t really working out for me here. I thought back to my last bicycle. I was 12. It was a Huffy or some equivalent kids brand. Fixed pedal, no brakes and no gears. I hadn’t been on a bike since then. So I was in essence, really learning to ride an adult bike for the first time. On the streets of Manhattan.

My Huffy was much lower to the ground, where I was in more of a sitting position and could extend my leg down to the ground for balance. But on these test bikes which were positioned higher, I had no idea at first how to start and stop on a bike without getting off.

And I don’t recall ever having to dodge heavy traffic or pedestrians in my youth. Being so close to speeding cars was a bit unnerving at first. I fully realized how scary riding around in the city could be. I had a flashback of riding my Huffy on my street. I literally only rode it on the sidewalk of my street. My parents forbade me to wander out of my neighborhood so I would ride from one end of the street, turn around, ride to the other end, and then repeat. I’m kind of mystified now as to what kind of entertainment that provided me. I wonder if any neighbors observed this behavior from their windows and thought to themselves “What a poor kid. Can’t even leave the street.” Either that or “Why is this idiot just going back and forth endlessly??”

Cut to the present, I’ve finally purchased a bike. A used one. Decent, not great, but perfect for what I need it to do. I have much more respect for cyclists in the city. When I first moved to New York I was driving a bit and had such animosity for walkers. Then as a walker hated drivers so intensely. And in both scenarios, loathed bicyclists. They were reckless and you never saw them coming. But now I see it from their side more clearly. It takes a bit of courage to throw themselves into such a hazardous situation, and at such speeds.


It’s all still very new to me. Dallas wasn’t exactly a bike-able town, what with the expansive suburban sprawl and the crippling heat. So I don’t feel I was adequately trained to deal with potholes, car doors, jaywalkers, double parked cars in the bike lane, squeezing between tight gaps at stop lights, construction zones, and basically being hated by every living being I come across. I’ve already hit a car and been thrown completely off my bike. That was by week 2 with a bike.

Despite all this, I’m loving it. It’s also great to hear how the city is working to support the cycling community. Bike lanes are being added constantly and there’s even rumors of some sort of shared bicycle system. Not sure if that will lead to anything significant but the sentiment is appreciated.

It’s another reason to love New York. With the increasingly alarming oil situation and everyone’s obsession with going green, the city allows me to feel like I’m doing what I can to make myself less damaging to my surroundings. I take the trains everywhere, I recycle, I use a cloth shopping bag, my bookbag is even made from 100% recycled materials, and I grow my own food. Okay, that last one was a lie. It’s probably the one thing that I’d like to do that I can’t in New York.

In the end, I’m glad I made the bicycle purchase. It helps me feel that I’m doing more right in the world than wrong. Although I’m not really getting rewarded with that bike seat, because my ass kills.



UPDATE: I guess I spoke too soon about a NY/bike love-fest. Gothamist points to a video of a NY cop decking a cyclist for what looks like no apparent reason. Ouch.

The Professor and the Madman

Wow. The Dark Knight was one of the few movies in recent years that had excited me enough to warrant me seeing it on opening day. That anticipation was paid off in spades.

Heath Ledger was transcendent in his role as the Joker. His interpretation and depiction of the insane villain was one of the most enthralling I’d ever watched, which makes his passing all the more tragic. Sadly, before this I’d never paid much attention to him as an actor. Working with Mel Gibson in The Patriot sort of condemned him for me.

The Joker has always been the definitive adversary to Batman. I once found that puzzling. Here you have a hero steeped in dark, serious, noir stylization, yet he gets paired with a (frankly) hokey concept villian. Think about it: the “world's greatest detective” faces off against a man with a giant, red-lipped grin in a purple suit using killer hand-buzzers and acid spewing flowers?

Batman has been developed over the decades into a meticulous strategist, utilizing technology and science to overcome anyone he faces. He’s bested seemingly more powerful characters, even Superman when such clashes occurred.

So I had assumed that the Joker’s pairing with Batman as an unfortunate result of the campy tone that dominated the 70’s comics, culminating in the Adam West television series.

It wasn’t until I read the graphic novel, Arkham Asylum, that I began to understand the Joker’s potential as a valid antagonist. Even while purchasing the book, the book store employee commented that this was the first story that ever made her frightened of the Joker. I had only been drawn to the book because of it’s artistic, collage styling and poetic narration which was completely different than the typical comic fare.

The story places Batman, trapped in the insane asylum where all of his captured villains have broken free and taken over. The Joker was featured sparingly, but just enough for me to realize that the guy was seriously homicidal and insane.

Which is why he is the perfect foil for Batman, the Yin to Batman’s Yang. The Joker has no rhyme or reason to his actions. He breeds in chaos and madness, not for money or power or comic book typical world domination aspirations, but simply for chaos and madness. He is the complete antithesis of Batman, the detective who believes that there is always an answer through science and logic.

For a well done documentation of the Joker’s many incarnations check out this write up on Comic Book Resources.

As for the rest of the movie, I will agree with other reviews that this is one of the best comic book movies ever made. Unlike X-men or Spiderman, this movie is steeped in realism. There’s no need to suspend belief so that men can cling to walls or shoot laser beams out of their eyes.

Although I felt the last act started to get convoluted and faltered a bit, the movie as a whole was gripping. I felt tense with anticipation throughout the whole film. There were a few gripes here and there, but minor. I wasn’t a huge fan of Maggie Gyllenhaal but she was light years more tolerable than Katie Holmes.

Aaron Eckhart's portrayal of Harvey Dent was well done. I enjoyed the build up of his character and how it mirrored Batman's role in Gotham. The filmmakers seemed to fully understand how his role poetically fit in with the theme of the story. I was thinking that they were building up his character for the next sequel so was surprised that it was paid off in this film. Maybe because of that expectation, I felt that it was a bit rushed and shoe-horned in. The development of Dent’s story was well handled but I think that the result was a letdown and not executed as perfectly as it could have been. The main antagonist of the film was the Joker and it was obvious to me that this hurt Two-Face’s tragic resolution. I applaud the filmmaker’s ability to intertwine the two villains’ stories though.

It was a great match of villains story-wise. Two-Face’s back story is so explicit that it took nearly the entire film to depict. Whereas the Joker had no real insight into his progression. As another masterful move, the filmmaker’s heightened each character by contrasting them with each other. Two-Face has always been propelled by his origin: a great hero that has fallen so far into evil. The Joker's motivations are based on madness that he needs no history, and in the many decades since his introduction, still has no definitive origin.

There will be the inevitable comparisons to all of the previous Bat-films. I have to say that as a kid, I loved Tim Burton's movies, but can admit today that they haven’t aged well at all. The visual style he created still appeals to me, especially the depiction of Gotham City so I kept wanting to see parts of it in Nolan’s films. But I also realize that the current films are much more grounded in our reality and that a realistic city backdrop fits in visually. Danny Elfman’s score in the Burton films is still iconic Batman for me. Otherwise, Nolan’s films surpass the previous attempts in every way. I didn’t even bother with Batman and Robin so can’t comment there.

The story with The Dark Knight is still Heath Ledger’s amazing performance, which will unfortunately be forever linked with his tragic death. If he winds up getting nominated for an Oscar (which I think he should) I can imagine there will be chatter about it only be spurred on by his passing. That will be very upsetting because I can’t recall in recent history such a powerful and mesmerizing performance.

Bravo, Heath.

Wind wind scenario

I was intrigued by French designer Philippe Starck’s unveiling of the personal windmill earlier this year. Details and technical specifics are pretty sparse as of now but they’re set to go onto the consumer market as early as this September.

The design is unquestionably elegant, but again many people are wondering how exactly it works. The price tag is around $600 and is touted to provide as much as 60% of the energy needed in a typical household. At this point, anything that promotes green energy and frees consumers from overloaded electric companies is welcomed.

I wonder if it’s size will allow it to be applicable to urban dwellers or if it’ll require some serious yard/roof space to dedicate to this device. I would think that it has to be a progression from the giant wind farms consisting of fields of towering windmills. NPR produced an interesting story on the farms and their affects on the local population. I particularly sympathized with the elderly man proclaiming that he can’t sleep anymore due to the noise produced by the spinning blades of the 20 story tall structures.

Even if Starck’s machine fails to make an urban impact, NPR also reports on Chicago’s attempt to place wind turbines on top of its skyscrapers as a space-conserving solution to increasing power consumption issues.

I’m thankful that green energy has become a larger priority over the years. It certainly feels as if we’re working against the clock now.

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.