A fine example of how to lead a life full of creative and personal integrity.
A hero to many, but inspirational to me as an individual who managed to bring dignity and humility to every aspect of his life, making almost every other "film star" seem superficial in the process.
"I'd like to be remembered as a guy who tried — tried to be part of his times, tried to help people communicate with one another, tried to find some decency in his own life, tried to extend himself as a human being. Someone who isn't complacent, who doesn't cop out."
For a few years I've been searching for the perfect blue suit. Something adaptable to both smart and casual. Something equally suitable for an evening's gallivanting, or first thing in the morning in that Italian-"I just happen to be wearing a sharp suit to go to the cafe"-kind of way.
This week in New York I finally found such a suit at Metropolis Apparel. Much as in these frugal times I shouldn't dream of such frivolity, the thought of further years of searching, made me bite the bullet. So here's my new pride and joy getting a few tweaks care of my local Brooklyn tailor TruVal Cleaners. Thanks Gomez:
The pictorial header and footer to this post come from Ari Cohen's new blog Advanced Style. A fantastic cornucopia of vintage folks wearing the looks that are referenced by the generations that followed. Style blogs have often overlooked how the best place to find aesthetic originality is to return directly to the source:
There is not a single word I could possibly type that would rise above the clamour of a hundred thousand journalists each better informed on the subject than me. But I have an opinion, and I will share it.
If indeed stocks continue to rise in the wake of the US government's decision 24 hours ago to hand out security blankets (albeit $100 billion dollar ones) to the remaining ailing banks, and we have come past the very worst of the financial storm of the last 6 months. Then not unlike the residents of Texas and Cuba we must examine the wake of the storm and gather our thoughts...
Being a glass half full dude, I've been thinking long and hard about how the world could possible improve through all of this turmoil, and I've come to some conclusions:
The single best by-product of the credit crunch/oil crisis/property collapse comes from it's ubiquity. We have been swamped with facts and figures, diagrams and charts that have permeated every newspaper, magazine and red top to an ever increasing degree. We have seen our economic downfall laid bare in the press to a degree never seen before. We are finally playing catch up with the strange and murky world of the swirling billions that affect our lives in a myriad of ways. It's unfortunate that it's taken negative equity/spiraling living costs etc. to do this, but better late than never.
What was previously seen as the preserve of a knowledgeable few, has now entered fully into the public domain. Technical terms and percentages, rates and indices have become commonplace amongst all and sundry. The people have reclaimed what was always theirs: the right to play more than a spectators role in the economic landscape.
Hopefully the extremity of the conditions of the last year will act as catalyst for a new level of global awareness, over who is doing what with our money, and how. I think it's imperative we maintain this current level of scrutiny, and awareness, exactly as it is right now. Because it's this scrutiny that leads to transparency, and transparency is what will stop the very people that acted so recklessly in the first place, from doing so again.
At the 2007 Wireless Festival in Hyde Park, Joshua Homme of The Queens of The Stone Age rhythmically chanted the chorus of their song "Feel Good Hit of The Summer" to the crowd of thousands:"Everybody knows, you dance like you fuck, you dance like you fuck, you dance like you fuck, so come on...if you aint dancing, then you aint fucking"
And I'm inclined to agree. Dancing is cool, it's natural, it shows that you are living in the moment, that you're comfortable in your own skin, that you are capable of basic muscle control. It's the external barometer proving all of life's juices are flowing in the right way. It's like a beacon to prospective mates alerting them to the fact you are alive, and healthy and ready to MATE
But life isn't simple. Millions of guys and girls out there are crippled by an inability to throw even basic shapes and are suffering because of it. With less babies being made as a result this is bad news, as less sex equals more wars. Or something like that.
You don't have to be Fred Astaire to get laid, just not part of the surprisingly large number of saddos who DON'T dance. I'd even go so far as to say there's something untrustworthy about someone who doesn't enjoy a good jig. In my head it ranks alongside not loving food, as a sign of someone who is not quite attuned to some of life's basic elements. Food, music, and the expressions thereof, are the twin romantic conduits. If you're crap at one, you better be pretty slick at the other, or you might as well have a shitty stick stapled to your face. That's how unattractive you are.
So for all you non-dancers out there, here is your last chance to grab a place on the good ship sexy times. A condensed guide to enjoying food may follow at a later date, but for today, while there is music, and love and romance. Let's face the music and....
No wait you can't, that's why you're reading this so intently...ok I'll explain:
Rhythm is King: Herein lies the crux of Mr.Homme's comments about the frequency of sexual congress being directly proportional to one's ability to cut a rug. Impossible to explain yet elemental in getting the ball rolling. Get this right and everything else will fall into place. Put simply, it's the beat, the swing, the groove. Listen for a drum, or a clap and try tapping your toes to it. That's it, now you're cooking.
With Gusto: Confidence makes even the most dire moves seem deliberate. If at first you don't succeed try again and pretend that's what you meant to do the first time. CASE STUDY:A month ago the missus and I stumbled across an impromtu Latino jump off in a Long Island harbour town called Greenport. The fiesta was full of hardy chicos/chicas shimmying and sashaying about the place with complete ease. I of course being an Englishman was well out of my depth. However despite being mocked for my initial attempts at cha-cha, my perseverance paid off, and the missus was so endeared by my stirling efforts, Blighty won the day, and the girl.
Humour is a Dancer's Best Friend: Nothing endears a lady to the dancefloor more than someone who can make them feel at ease. Humour is the finest weapon in your armoury for taking the edge off a situation. Who could resist the whip of an invisible dance floor lasso? Or why not shoot some imaginary hoops? Stepped on your partner's foot or elbowed them in the ear? A little badinage will thaw out that frosty maiden in no time. You can get away with murder as long you keep a smile on your face (not literally)
In Classics We Trust: "The Running Man", "The Bogle", "The Grind", "The Two-Step", "The Dutty Wine". Not a holiday cocktail list, but merely some of the handful of staple moves that once learnt, will be a dancers best friend in times of trouble. These are reliable, well known moves, family favourites, the dancing equivalent of a pack of "Celebrations". Something for everybody. Perfect for trotting out when the DJ changes genre suddenly. STEP1: Make a brief appraisal of tempo/genre STEP2: Think of a suitable "Classic move" STEP3: Adapt the classic to suit your partner's dimensions/disposition STEP4: Engage
Pick an Instrument: An often misunderstood art. The mime instrument can be the wayward dancer's closest ally. Don't be bedazzled by the wonders of the over-exposed "Air Guitar". Grab yourself a slap bass with a short strap worn at nipple height. Or maybe a trombone, or the convivial "Air Bongos". There's a whole orchestra out there my friends. Choose wisely, and the dancefloor is yours. Rush your choice, and you may find yourself bereft of ladies indefinitely.
So no more hiding at weddings and barmitzvahs. Now you too can hit the tiles and score yourself a hottie. Remember to relax, and have fun, no one's expecting fireworks. Just something a little bit funky..for the ladies.
If you fancy honing your skills from the reassuring bosom of your closest chums before trying out your killer moves on the opposite sex, here is an instructional video illustrating how best to go about it:
Running through Hackney last night I rounded a corner only to collide with an unforeseen jogger coming at me from the other direction....
The collision stopped us both in our tracks momentarily, and it was then, having come to a standstill, that I noticed the other jogger and myself were dressed identically from head to toe. White t-shirt, white shorts, even the configuration of our respective ipods and headphones was identical! We both stared for a moment, puzzled and transfixed, in equal measure. The best we could both manage was a "sorry", (uttered in exactly the same mild-mannered English way), before running off into the night.
All this on the same day those fateful particles were being triumphantly beamed round for their laps of honour in Switzerland. Nonsense to all those who say that the money poured into "epic" science experiments has little to no effect on real life. I came face to face with an alternate version of myself, from another dimension far across the space time continuum, in Hackney. Thanks Big Bang Experiment. You're the Greatest!
They cut their teeth working alongside big hitters like Ninjatune stalwarts Coldcut.
They helped invent the Pioneer DJV-X1 (the definitive VJ tool)
They released the UK's first completely AV album (complete with 3D Glasses!)
They're good
I've had the luxury of seeing them twice, once at a festival (Big Chill), and again in a smallish club (333). They impressed on both occaisons. I bought their vinyl "Rewind" in 2001, and their tunes are certainly good enough to warrant a listen sans visuals. But seeing them live is the real treat.
Who knows, if you YouTube continues to infiltrate online content at it's current rate, the next few years could herald a new golden age for the "Visual" DJs? Only time will tell.
Hexstatic play Koko next Saturday (Sept 13th) for a one off "AV Party" called Soundcrash
When it came to my GCSCEs thanks largely to the superhuman effort of Mrs.Pilai I fluked an A. But anyone who knows how I roll day to day, knows that grappling with more than a few basic digits has me grasping for a calculator. Sad but true.
BUT even someone with my lack of numeracy could work out the simple equation:
Post-"American Pie" Frat-Com hot shits grapple with the endlessly hilarious topic of Ganjachronic. Sounds too good to be true! "Monsieur, you will really be spoiling us" I felt like proclaiming, in my best Forrero Rocher accent.
Except you probably can already tell from my sardonic tones that this movie SUCKED. I'm certainly not an arthouse snob, neither am I total moron. Let's just call me Stan Dard when it comes to my opinions on film. Everything on it's merits, and all that. "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner" one night followed by "Armageddon" the next. But this movie was nothing short of rudimentary.
It felt like no one had bothered to develop any of the ideas beyond the simple equation written above. It felt like watching a doodle on a napkin, rather than a complete screenplay from the accomplished creators of Superbad and Knocked Up. They hadn't taken the concept and run with it. They'd taken the concept, skinned it up smoked it, forgot what the concept was, and then relied on crude visual humour and repetition for two hours of my life.
Rogen perhaps gives an insight into what could cause this blot on the Apatow/Goldberg/Rogen copybook in a recent interview. He says on making movies in the future: "We have total creative freedom - we're making it exactly how we want, there are very few limitations. So I'm psyched"
Almost all creatives at some point wax lyrical over the hunger for artistic freedom. But I've half suspected that certain confines are essential to milking only the best bits from one's creative juices. Sure, who likes compromise, or to have to bend down to the wicked will of "the man"? But after the third lazily slapstick action sequence I'm sure you'll start wishing there was a studio suit on hand to shout "Cut"!
Unfortunately as with so much in life, cash is king. Two big box office smashes in a row (£95m& £122m) has bought this production team, total creative autonomy. A rare thing in Hollywood. A gift they have not used used wisely in a film that smacks of complacency. Which I guess is the biggest pitfall of being on a roll (no pun intended).
This is not a movie about being stoned. It is stoned. It's way funnier that it thinks it is, laughs at it's own jokes, and goes on waaaaaaaaaay too long. The last 45 minutes felt like one agonising sight gag after one another. By the end I thought I was in some kind of pothead's purgatory waiting for the bad trip to end. I hope they really we're totally blotto when they made Pineapple Express, because then, and only then will Apatow et al. have a credible excuse for letting their unblemished cinematic record go up in smoke.
Speaking of which, if you do want your fix of weed + guns and action, then DON'T go and see this half-baked snorefest. I suggest you go straight to my favourite source of chronic imagery and watch this intro sequence to legendary hip-hop tokeathon "The Up In Smoke Tour".
Yes that's right, this is nothing more than the intro to a pop concert, and it's better than £20 million quids worth of movie.
News this week that August 2008 was the wettest August on record has once again reignited my ongoing curiosity over the role nostalgia plays in altering the facts of the past.
To my sun-worshiping mind, summer definitely used to exist. A specific chunk of each year of my childhood was dedicated to sploshing paddling pools, running through sprinklers and schlurping Calippos. Not weeks, or days but months. "The summer months", that's what they're called after all!
Not so, says Dr Lance Workman, head of psychology at Bath Spa University, who studies the effects of weather on society's mood:
"We associate sunshine with childhood, and our memories of summer always seem much longer and sunnier than perhaps they were"
In short: our memories are fallible.
The statistics do clearly show we've been robbed of a decent summer two years running (could someone please tell Global Warming we've been expecting him?), BUT also that summers have always been intermittently good and bad in equal measure.
So why do our minds work like this, about the weather, but also with so much more? We are all too easily seduced by those ubiquitous rose-tinted specs, the "back in the day" mentality, that I simultaneously loathe and perpetuate. I'm sure each of us has yawned through the sermon of a leather faced festival-goer droning on about how the pills/music/vibes were better in their day. But yet also found themselvesexplaining to a younger sibling or friend, how trainers/computer games/TV were all better "back in the day".
We've been playing this game for years. Attaching our identity to a time and place that's not here and now, to save ourselves the blushes over the present. Carving out our own definitive slice of time to ensure a chapter of our own lives remains unique and exceptional. If we can exclude ourselves from having to judge the current status quo, we can take comfort from the fact our experiences from the past were better, and almost always more "real".
Jamel Shabazz has earned his place atop many a hipsters coffee table (including my own!) with his visual documenting of NY/hip hop culture before it became tainted with the corporate brush. The original definition of "keeping it real".
In my opinion what's changed significantly in the last few years isn't the things we choose to be nostalgic about, but the speed at which something can become retro, and therefore reference-able. I can't work out whether it is the consumer calling these shots or the marketing man, realising the sooner he can sell yesterdays news, the better. If you you can sell products from the 90's to kids from the 00's even though it was only ten years ago. Maybe by the time the Olympics comes around in 2012, we'll all be dancing, dressing and eating like it was 2005 all over again!!
Out of curiosity I feel I must attempt to make a small dent in my enquiries. I propose a thoroughly foolproof litmus test to find out whether things from the past are better because of their unique quality, or because they live in our warm and fuzzy childhood memory?
Look and Read was made for the BBC and was the longest running television programme for schools in the UK (1967-2004). It consisted of half an hour of hokey "educational" animation before settling down to the meat and potatoes of the show: a (still "educational") weekly serial. I remember being gripped by these thrilling, and engaging stories week in week out. None more so than "Through the Dragon's Eye". An adventure about three children pulled into an imaginary land.
The Challenge: Once a month I will put up an installment of "Through the Dragon's Eye" and give a short review of whether I think the action pasts muster. I won't be hyper-critical but neither will I let crap things go unmentioned. I will merely review it for what it is, in the cold light of day. As if I've hurled my rose tinted specs to the floor!
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