They stayed relatively faithful to it too. Good thing James Mercer didn't do a rendition of the orgasmic "Great Gig in the Sky," which might have ended in a nationwide hormonal meltdown and a lot of teenage girl exploded brain cleanup today. Enjoy the performance above, and stay glued to your TV or computer screen over the next few days for more of Jimmy Fallon's Pink Floyd tribute week with covers by the likes of MGMT, Pearl Jam and Foo Fighters.
First things first, though. Were you aware that there was such a thing as a "Whopper Bar?" It's Burger King's "more upscale complement to its fast-food locations. The Whopper Bars serve items like a Bourbon Whopper and a New York Pizza Burger, and customers choose additional toppings like pepperoni, onion rings or guacamole." Apparently there are 10 of them worldwide, including one in Times Square. I had no idea! I should probably get out more/never leave my house again [delete to suit].
But I digress. Burger King wants to serve beer at its Times Square Whopper Bar, but hasn't been able to obtain the necessary licenses.
UnionDocs, the space for eclectic film screenings and nonfiction filmmaking workshops, recently signed a 10-year lease on their storefront space at 322 Union Avenue—and now that they're gonna be in the neighborhood for another decade, they've turned their efforts towards improving the space, and need your help Kickstarting the project.
UnionDocs is currently a charming little sweatbox, but we agree with them that the space could use the upgrades they have planned: Improving the entrance, box office and signage (during Northside, I and many others were milling around outside waiting for the second screening of Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation; a cop, curious, pulled up and walked around, sneaking flashlight glimpses at everyone's pockets); adding an official (rather than folding card-table) concessions and bar space; adding a second bathroom and making both handicap-accessible; and adding more comfortable, tiered seating. Here's their pitch:
We're beaming proudly at the thought: What began as an harebrained idea in 2009 has blossomed into a festival set to make its return to the streets of Williamsburg and Greenpoint for a fourth year of music, film, art, ideas and more... and we do mean "more," as there are already some really exciting things in the works that we can't quite tell you about yet. Hang tight, though. Why don't you take a look here at some of this summer's highlights to hold you over? You might want to bookmark northsidefestival.com while you're at it, as that will become your one-stop source for all things Northside-related in the coming months. It'll be June before you know it.
On Friday, WNYC published an internal memo issued by police commissioner Ray Kelly calling for an end to a loophole that has resulted in record high pot busts, costing taxpayers $75 million annually. Kelly wrote: "A crime will not be charged to an individual who is requested or compelled to engage in the behavior that results in the public display of marihuana." (That's the Anglicized spelling adopted during the Mexican-ization of the substance in the first half of the last century, which Kelly probably picked up as a wee lad watching irresistible exploitation films in the 1930s).
This past April we ran a story investigating the record high number of pot busts in NYC under Mayor Bloomberg and the racial imbalance—86% of those arrested for misdemeanor pot possession were black or Latino—that goes with it. One source, going by ''B." was victim of the loophole in question:
Midnight Run comes to us from the halcyon buddy-comedy days of the late 80s—so, initially, it seems to want to take us on a very familiar ride. We can predict the leisurely turns and swoops with the jaded prescience of a ten-dollar palmist. Our butts have scored impressions in the seats. At the thought of another go, we might get a little manic. But—look—along with De Niro, then just at the beginning of his stand-up tour of Hollywood, the reliably excellent and otherworldly Charles Grodin is at the controls—and suddenly the track is twisting slightly, and the creaky old coaster is doing something very strange.
Are you looking for a way to celebrate? You could get yourself outfitted with a free NYC condom or download the free condom app (although if you can afford a smart phone, maybe you can just get your ass to the drugstore and buy some.)
If you're a traditional sort, maybe you celebrate World Contraception Day with some good old-fashioned protected sex. Whatever you do, I hope that we can take a minute to appreciate everything contraception does for us in our day-to-day lives. Seriously! From preventing HIV and other STDs to giving women the option not to be pregnant all the time, to helping to prevent cervical cancer, we would all be a lot sicker, pregnanter, and/or deader without contraception. From the humble condom to the mighty birth control pill, the classicly-styled IUD to the futuristic nuvaring—even the much-maligned dental dam—we say thank you today for all the sweet-ass safe sex.
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I should get this out of the way: Fucked Up’s David Comes to Life is my favorite album of the year so far, and “Queen of Hearts” my favorite song. I even used the track to propose to my now-fiancée (it helps that “Veronica” and “Nadia” sound similar). I have seen the band three times in the past year, and have more than one photo where I’m posing with front man Damien Abraham, who’s, of course, not wearing a shirt in either one. So, yeah, I’m probably biased, but: Saturday night’s show at Webster Hall was, in the words of someone walking out of the venue afterwards, “fucking awesome.”
If you are so inclined and still have not come across it, here, be my guest. But also feel free to skip that shit and dwell on the distant, distant past.
Fleet Foxes are up there now with the ubiquitous Death Cab for Cuties and Bright Eyes of the world. For the most part, saying "I like indie rock" is saying you like them — thanks to a second helping of inoffensive, wholly pleasant songs (sans one squeaky sax solo) on what is maybe the year’s most beautiful album. This is the band’s greatest accomplishment, but, for those who have prided themselves on moving beyond the earnest, NPR-priased acoustic peddlers who used to define a large portion of "indie," it’s their biggest flaw. See them live, though.
The rules are simple enough: because orphaned slacker Sang-Man (Cha Tae-Hyun) repeatedly fails to properly commit suicide, he will be haunted by four ghosts until he purifies himself by helping each one of them fulfill a final wish. The ghosts are a smooth-talking old codger, a chubby taxi driver in a powder blue suit, an always-sobbing woman, and a young boy with much to prove. A Korean poster with English titles calls them “Mr. Perverted”, “Mr. Smoky”, “Ms. Weepy” and “Little Greedy”; they’re a package deal, but only one can possess his body at a time. Their growth as a team helps Sang-Man turn his life around, gain the trust of a totally hot nurse in his ward, and just maybe shake his lifelong depression.
Yes, and the band is called Anywhere. The Mars Volta's pint-sized powerhouse of a vocalist, Cedric Bixler-Zavala, has teamed up with legendary Minutemen bassist (as well as touring bassist for Iggy Pop and The Stooges) Mike Watts, and together, along with guitarist Christian Eric Beaulieu and former Sleepy Sun singer Rachel Fannan, they recorded a 7" called Pyramid Mirrors. There are only 500 available copies, and they're available for pre-order here.
We can only guess at the possibilities of what these guys (and girl) sound like together, but really, is there any way this couldn't be the ultimate, female-fronted, punk/prog/hardcore fantasy? That's right—vocal duties go to Fannan, who, since leaving Sleepy Sun, has been working solely on solo stuff, while Bixler-Zavala, surprisingly, will be staying away from the microphone and taking on percussion instead.
There's not even art for the album up yet, but in the meantime, you can watch these videos of Bixler-Zavala, Watts and Fannan (after the jump) and imagine how they play together. Does this mean I can make a joke about this being like punk rock fantasy football? (Confession: I don't know how actual fantasy football works.) Derp.
[via Consequence of Sound]
This just convinces me even further how repellent BDSM is. You must be mentally ill…
elvis costello perfomance link (the published one here is not working) http://videos.mediaite.com/video/Elvis-Costello-Radio-Radio-1977
I need a sweet baby