Posted
by Lauren Beck
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 4:59 PM
Monday Morning
Who to see (Spiritualized, Sonic Youth, Ted Leo, among others), what to wear (sweat pants), how to act (well-mannered) — all this and more, down below:
Tonight At the time of this writing, it looks like tickets are still on sale for the last of the SPIN anniversary shows, where tonight Spiritualized plays their drop-dead gorgeous masterpiece, Ladies and Gentleman We Are Floating in Space, alongside an orchestra and choir at Radio City Music Hall. If for whatever reason you have a thing against space-rock masterpieces or just prefer your indie-rock to sound more like the Shins, whippersnapper Avi Buffalo and his very tall Sub Pop cohort Chad VanGaalen will be playing the Seaport. Seventy-eight degrees, no chance of rain, free admission.
Saturday Come Saturday afternoon, it seems probable that every single person living in Brooklyn, ages 18-30, will head to Queens for what promises to be one of the biggest P.S. 1 Warm Ups of the season. Animal Collective DJs. You dance. Blondes, Oneohtrix Point Never, Prince Rama and more under the psych-synth-freak umbrella perform. You dance, or at least nod your head knowingly. Then catch Sonic Youth at Prospect Park (with Talk Normal and L Mag new obsessions Grass Widow) if you're in the mood for a classic or punk duo Japanther at Union Hall if your feeling feisty.
Sunday Sunday's toss-up: Ted Leo, Darlings (um, we really like Darlings) and ArpLine for a free Jelly show at Brooklyn Bowl or St. Vincent, tUnE-YaRdS and Basia Bulat for a free show at Central Park's SummerStage. If you find out why Jelly hates us, let us know? End the weekend at The Delancey for Julian Lynch and his, you know, lo-fi pop that's a notch better than the rest. Then get some sleep. Wavves and the Black Lips both play on Monday, and you'll want to be alert in case there's a fight. (The joke's not dead!)
This right here is epic, like the Duck Amuck of the 21st century, the most creative deconstruction of cartoon animation in decades: Teddy Newton's Day & Night. If you didn't see it before Toy Story 3 (and even if you did) watch it now, and all weekend. See you on Monday! (Fubiz)
Theaters and performance spaces in New York have been racking up huge rent problems on a near-weekly basis of late—3LD, which solved its problem and brought on the Ohio; Dance New Amsterdam, renegotiating next month, the Joyce suddenly potentially homeless—and now you can add Commerce Street's charming Cherry Lane Theatre to the list. Despite a season including some very goodshows (and one very bad), TheaterMania reports that the company is $167,000 in debt, due to a combination of all the arts boogiemen you'd imagine: Reduced grants and government funding, less income from space rentals and ticket sales. The company will take the upcoming season to restructure (its Mentor Project will continue), and there are no plans to renew the company's third space, the Cherry Pit, when its lease is up in December. Meanwhile, two of its three stages will be in use next month for the New York Fringe. Let's hope this closure really is just for one season... (ArtInfo)
Posted
by Lauren Beck
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 3:34 PM
Though they've been worked into their recent live show setlists, Real Estate debuted two new songs during a Daytrotter session for the rest of world to hear, which you can do so now, right here. In a small twist, "Art Fandelet" has frontman Martin Courtney sounding not entirely unlike Stephen Malkmus — languid and droopy, but also slightly spiteful as he sings, "Everybody knows that a book is hard to finish / If you're not really into it." This one called "Untitled" is really the highlight though, with Courtney latching on to a defined vocal melody and then letting go again. Quite good.
Posted
by Mark Asch
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 3:17 PM
Quickly: Earlier this year we mourned the passing of the great cinematographer William Lubtchansky, the backwards-looking eyes of the French New Wave in winter. I praised then, as I will at every opportunity, Lubtchansky's sleek-gorgeous, grainy-intimate black-and-white work with Philippe Garrel, especially the trancelike, gorgeous post-'68 flashback Regular Lovers, a movie about a hopeful, charismatic generation turning inwards and disintegrating, shot through with heartbreaking glamour and very personal nostalgic reflection. It plays this very night at the 92Y Tribeca, as part of a weekend Lubtchansky tribute—put together by curator and L critic Miriam Bale—also featuring some woozy Rivette.
Tauba Auerbach, one of the brightest young stars on the New York art scene, coming off strong showings at both the season's biggest shows (the Whitney Biennial and PS1's Greater New York), just unveiled her first solo museum show of sorts at the future site of the Downtown Whitney. The project (pictured) is part of the Whitney On Site program to use the museum's new Meatpacking District construction site at the bottom of the High Line at Gansevoort and Washington Streets as a space for large-scale solo installations. Next up is Barbara Kruger, which should be an interesting vision amidst all the luxury boutiques; Auerbach's giant photographs of marble covering all the containers at the site, effectively turning them into uncarved blocks awaiting a sculptor's chisel (Renzo Piano?), is titled "Quarry" and stays up till September. See the whole quarry after the jump.
Posted
by Jonny Diamond
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 2:36 PM
I didn't write about this at the time (because it was too sad), but back in late May my dear wife and I went to the last four nights of legendary Upper East Side restaurant Gino (Sinatra's regular joint), largely because it was where she spent most of her childhood. (No, she wasn't an adorable ten-year-old barback, her father basically lived there. Kind of like, you know, her.)
So we were very, very sad to learn that Gino—a preserved-in-amber specimen of fine old New York eateries—was closing up shop after 65 glorious years... to be replaced by a Beverly Hills cupcake concern, some stupid fucking thing called "Sprinkles," beloved of stupid fucking celebrities. It really couldn't get any more galling than that. (Here's a pic of the gutted Gino, not for the faint of heart.)
Granted, there's nothing new about hating on all the ridiculously moronic high-end cupcake shops in this city, but all of the aforementioned pain and anger came flooding back to me when I read breathless news this morning of a fancy new cupcake shop opening in a couple weeks just up the hill in Brooklyn Heights, Crumbs.
So, though it may be a purely symbolic gesture, the only way I think I can deal with my grief and rage is to hereby vow to never, ever again eat a fancy store-bought NYC cupcake, until the day I die.
Did you hear about the zoo in China that inadvertently gassed its star attraction, a 21-year-old giant panda named Quan Quan, earlier this week? Workers were apparently disinfecting another area of Jinan Zoo in Shandong province when their chlorine, chlorine hydride and carbon monoxide mixture made its way into the ventilation system and seeped into the panda pen, killing the mother of seven. Understandably, people are pissed, as, presumably, are the pandas. If they could they'd inform zoo officials of their outrage in a manner similar to the above commercial for some sort of panda-flavored spread. Which, gross, right? (Ufunk)
Posted
by Lauren Beck
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 1:36 PM
When the Google-owned blogging service Blogger had their crackdown on MP3 blogs in February, Pop Tarts Suck Toasted, the long-running (in blog years) supporter of local music, was one of the casualties. Its creator, Patrick Duffy, switched URLs and rallied on, but eventually the debacle and general chaos that comes with blogging 30-40 hours a week took its toll, causing him to shut it down for good. Well, good news, fans of Dinosaur Feathers/The Antlers/Sleigh Bells and seemingly every other New York band worth writing about: Word comes today that Pop Tarts Suck Toasted will re-launch here (note: new web address) on Monday with a sleek-looking site and a mini support group of four other writers. This is a very good thing. These Pop Tarts folks know their stuff.
Posted
by Mike Conklin
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 12:29 PM
Do you guys know how long it took me to decide which Primus video to post? It took a really long time. Why? Because now more than 15 years removed from the last time I voluntarily listened to a Primus record, it his hitting me like a ton of bricks that, holy shit, they had a lot of really, really awesome songs. "Too Many Puppies," "Here Come the Bastards," "My Name is Mud," "DMV," "Tommy the Cat," "Mrs. Blaileen," and even, of course, "Wynona's Big Brown Beaver"—hits, every last one of 'em, by a band that, yes, could potentially be described as irritating, but also must be described, for better or worse, as nothing if not 100% original. Anyway, they're at the Waterfront tonight, and hooboy, you thought there were a lot of dudes at Faith No More?
Hey, it’s Blockbluster, our seasonal feature in which Benjamin Sutton and Henry Stewart play dumb to find out during which sort of movies regular people all over the country are eating haunted lobster. This week they invite each other to Jay Roach’s Dinner for Schmucks.
SUTTON: So, Stewart, Dinner for Schmucks wasn’t as utterly tasteless as I’d expected given how low Jay Roach has managed to set the bar over the course of his two big franchises, Austin Powers and Meet the Parents/Fockers. (And in light of our colleague Michael Joshua Rowin's adroit review) What I found most disappointing was actually the thing I was most looking forward to: Zach Galifianakis. After stealing last summer’s funnier and more offensive The Hangover, his mind-controlling IRS agent in Schmucks was this film’s second least funny character.
After the City Planning Commission signed off on it last month, yesterday the City Council gave CPC Resources the final go-ahead to turn Southside Williamsburg's landmarked Domino Sugar Plant into a 2,200-unit condo development. The developer promised to make 30 percent of those units below market-rate, although there's nothing keeping them from lowering that percentage to the standard 20. The only other major modification made at the last minute was the chopping down of the project's two tallest towers from 40 to 34 stories. Don't worry: they'll be made more stout so that each will contain the same number of apartments. Groundbreaking on the first phase of the Rafael Viñoly-designed project is planned for late 2011. Plenty of time to lament the loss of another majestic industrial ruin. (Curbed, Brownstoner)
Posted
by Mike Conklin
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 10:45 AM
Alright, so, a couple things about this:
1) If M.I.A. had employed mimes a couple weeks ago when she did "Born Free" on Letterman, perhaps I would understand why everyone thought it was sooooo good.
2) It makes no sense to methat everyone cries classist or racist or whatever when Vampire Weekend uses auto-tune or expresses an interest in African music, yet it's perfectly acceptable for Kevin Barnes to do this Prince-lite sex-jam thing, with lines like, "You look like a playground to me, playa" and the awesomely objectifying "You are my only luxury item." The white face paint only makes the whole thing worse.
Posted
by Mike Conklin
on Fri, Jul 30, 2010 at 10:11 AM
I have a hard time caring too much about American Idol until it's actually on (and even then, it's occasionally a chore), but this is pretty big news: After only one year on the show, Ellen Degeneres has announced that she won't be coming back next season. She said her schedule became too difficult to manage, and added that she never liked criticizing contestants, which is admirable, but also exactly the reason she did such a bad job last year She was super likable of course, but sheesh. Not good.
So with Simon also gone, that left two empty seats at the judges table, one of which is now reportedly being filled by, oh god, Jennifer Lopez, arguably the worst singer of any pop star in recent memory, and certainly one of the least relevant right now. There's also no real reason to think she'll have anything of any value to say about contestants who've set their sights on anything other than hilariously outdated dance-pop, which of course accounts for approximately all of them. This is not gonna go well.
Rumor has it the fourth judge will be named on Monday. Elton John and Justin Timberlake's names keep coming up. Either would probably be fine, though Justin would be a far bigger get. Only time will tell, I suppose. ONLY TIME WILL TELL.
It hasn't even been two days since Kanye West joined Twitter (@KanyeWest), and already he's revolutionizing the social medium. Or, as he put it, "I think Twitter was designed specifically with me in mind just my humble opinion hahhhahaaaahaaa humble hahahahhahaahaaaa," and also, "My thoughts on Twitter so far... at the end of the day, God damnit I'm killing this shit!!!" It's true, he is. For proof, here are his Top 10 tweets so far, helpfully paired with illustrative photos of Kanye.
In preparation for this column and in service of my general moviegoing OCD, I tend look at the release schedules pretty far in advance, and for awhile, this weekend loomed as the single least interesting/most depressing of the summer. Then Paramount moved Dinner for Schmucks out to this weekend, and a Jay Roach comedy counting as a marked improvement should tell you something about the dim prospects. Hey, have you seen Inception yet? You have? Well, have you seen it a second time? Yeah? Then maybe enjoy the weather, because here's your menu:
For his multimedia project Les 400 Clicks (2008), Montreal-based artist Adam Sajkowski arbitrarily selected 400 frames from François Truffaut's feature debut and New Wave classic Les 400 coups ("The 400 Blows") and matched each one to a second-long snippet of the opening title composition. Viewers/users cue each frame by clicking on the one before, meaning that it takes 400 clicks to get through Les 400 Clicks. Get started by clicking here. (Rhizome)
Posted
by Jonny Diamond
on Thu, Jul 29, 2010 at 3:33 PM
Now that's a good cop.
This is normally Henry's beat but hey, he's not here, and someone has to report on Bay Ridge cops making poor decisions. So, a young Brooklyn College student, Icelyn Garcia, is suing the NYPD because she spent the night in jail for bringing her tiny dog into the 86th Street R station. Yup.
After Officer Jessica Gavaras told Garcia she needed a carrier, Garcia had her cousin take the little pooch outside, and then pleaded with Gavaras not to give her a ticket. When Garcia went to check her phone for the time, Gavaras grabbed it out of her hand; when Garcia reached for the phone, Gavaras cuffed her. And now it'll probably cost the taxpayers some money.
Between me and you, though, Garcia isn't the most sympathetic victim of asymmetrical police response.
[It was the] worst night of my life. A prostitute offered me a job. There were women in there hiding drugs in their private parts. People were fighting. I've never been around that caliber of people in my life.
Posted
by Mark Asch
on Thu, Jul 29, 2010 at 2:57 PM
For Newsweek, Seth Colter Walls runs down to the Strand to pick up what he can of the dispersed personal library of the experimental writer David Markson (author of Wittgenstein’s Mistress and This Is Not a Novel, among other novels), who died last month.
Earlier this week, the London Review of Books's Alex Abromavich informed readers that Markson's library of classic and contemporary novels, poetry and philosophy, inscribed with Markson's name on the flyleaf and heavily annotated in his hand, appeared to have been sold to The Strand in bulk, and were being resold. He found this out when someone passed on a tip from an undergrad, whose copy of White Noise had previously belonged to Markson: "oh god the pomposity, the bullshit!" he had written alongside one passage. A small flood of readers began scouring the Strand for Markson's books and marginalia—one Keith Lincoln contributed an account of his haul at htmlgiant—and are beginning to upload particularly interesting marginalia to a Facebook group created for the purpose.
Our favorite bit of Markson marginalia—so far—is above. It's always fascinating, owning books (or anything else) that used to belong to strangers; what's interesting here is how the dispersed detritus of the deceased is being used to piece a picture—of Markson the reader and writer—back together.