Hypothetically…
If there is indeed a heaven, and Hasil Adkins and Lux Interior are hanging out together on some leopard-print porch swing up there, how much do you want to bet they play “rock, paper, shotgun” every morning to decide who gets the honor of guardian angel duty for this fella?
In the age of ultra-polished music videos featuring flawless human specimens in various stages of aggressive air-humping, we oft forget the common man. What about that guy behind 7-11, who claims to be a sailor, smells of fish, and gives you the stinkeye? What of uncle Merv, whose gravy-encrusted beard and consistent belligerence have become an almost-comforting staple at family gatherings? I for one, am tired of steely abs and tits on my screen [there are so many, all the time]. In the VonSwank-directed video below, justice is served as Josh Heironymous* represents the intrepid proletarian to the tranquil sound of “Into the Holes” by Lily Fawn. Sit back, relax, get your zen on and enjoy three minutes of a Real Man giving his all to the camera, the way you’ve always dreamed of.
*I note, not without triumph, that Joshua and I shared a Chicago apartment during my one year of college. I got to watch him do this all the time.
Related post: Our Top 10 Most Preternaturally Beautiful Men
Gadjo Disko was a notorious dance party that first took place at the Rhizome Collective in Austin, Texas in April of 2008. This past Saturday, we bade a sweaty, sparkly farewell to this be-spangled cavalcade of devoted Diskovites. Miraculously, our fake eyelashes stayed adhered despite our tears!
Miss Valerie Hemming (aka. Vas ist Das) and Wanda Kruda boogie down at the second Gadjo Disko.
Gadjo Disko was born from the restless minds of four storm-tossed former New Orleanians (myself, Mack Henson, Chesley Allen and Sarah King) who found ourselves part of the growing diaspora in Austin after Hurricane Katrina. We had put on extravagant events in New Orleans inspired by the Dada Balls of yore: Cabaret Revoltaire was a balls-out, full-contact, total-participation party that combined art, dance and performance without the restrictions of a passive audience. After the vagaries of the storm, we decided to pare it down and just do “a simple dance party”. Little did we know then what a behemoth our baby would become!
Tash Kouri of The Gyronauts.
Our Otesánek grew and grew until it encompassed and surpassed the boundaries of age, gender, ethnic background or cultural milieu. I’m not sure where else you might see 66 year old grannies (our amazing friend Beth, who danced at every single Disko) getting down on the dance-floor next to depraved trannies!
Sometimes coming up with an ensemble for the evening can prove challenging. When in doubt, go without! We always provided free entry to completely naked people.
I’ve traveled far and wide enough to know how rare it is to find a party that transcends any one scene, where burners, hipsters, nerds, punks, queers, goths and all the beautiful and (thankfully) unclassifiable freaks can get together without the least trace of pretension or scorn…
Lee Evil and Dougy Gyro in his “Nautilus” costume.
The tenth Edwardian Ball crept up upon us unawares, while we were still sleepy from holiday overeating and adjusting to our regular work schedules again. All of a sudden everyone seemed to say “This weekend? But I haven’t a costume!” And thus began the yearly scramble, with last-minute runs to the fabric store and safety pins carefully tucked away inside as-yet unfinished garments. The Edwardian Ball is one of those rare events where everyone–not just the performers and regulars–dons a costume. For some of us this means little more than our everyday wear, while others brainstorm for weeks.
A contact juggler amongst the revelers.
Her first album was titled Metropolis, its follow-up – The Arch Android. She has killer rock n’ roll androgyne style and addictive musical-theater-trained pipes. Oh, she also does live painting and has her own label, too. Yet somehow, I hadn’t heard of Janelle Monae before this video for her single Many Moons popped up on my screen last week.
As you can see, Metropolis is a concept album. Its fictional protagonist Cindi Mayweather finds herself in the year 2719 and on the run from android law, because she’s in love with a human. Monae’s next three albums will follow Mayweather’s adventures, some of them in space.
Yep, I’m in full swoon. Monae’s influences might be more than a little transparent, but I just don’t care – the combination is fresh and it’s pop. Great pop, at that. There’s space and robots and art and she’s adorable, but above all that, she gives answers like this in interviews:
I am driven by the need for change. I have had many nightmares about our future and if we do keep living the way we do, killing the way we do, hating ourselves the way we do, I do believe we are headed to the great road of nowhere. I know that I was put on this earth to lead, not to be perfect, but to lead and display a positive example and that is what I will die trying to do.
And I actually believe these aren’t just producer-polished words – Janelle is already working on starting a non-profit organization to help disadvantaged girls develop their artistic side. When, in light of a Grammy nomination, she was asked if she enjoyed being photographed and interviewed, she said, “Only when I have something to say. I’m not a red carpet gal. I wear a uniform for god’s sake! I have a hair machine I stick my head into. I have other duties to worry about.”
You hear that, pop culture? More of it, please. Also, I need a hair machine.
[video via TheDaniel]
Katie, wherever you are, you have the best grandma EVAR:
“Call me eccentric I haven’t a doubt
I’ll labeled a whole lot worse and far out
When I roll down a springtime grassy green hill
You think I won’t but I betcha I will
Cause I’m over 21 considerably
and I’ve earned the right to be no one but me.”
Film courtesy of Syndicate of Human Image Traffickers.
Many of us across the Coilhouse nation dream of becoming full-time artists, and some of us actually become so, but few follow our vision as fearlessly as Jack Terricloth. Jack never learned any marketable skill like speed typing or graphic design or computer programming. He’s never had a “Plan B” of any kind whatsoever. He just jumped out his window and – wooosh! – he started flying. While most of us were in college, Jack was a full-time punk rocker. In fact, he never even bothered to graduate from high school. What would cause an abundantly gifted, middle class kid from a stable family to behave so recklessly? Why wasn’t he disciplined by a fear of falling through the social safety net?
While our current global economic bust forecloses conventional career options for many of us, it’s also an opportunity to change consumption patterns and general complicity with an economic order that is clearly unsustainable in the long run. Will the economic downturn lead more people to unconventional lives or will it make us ever more desperate to fit into the economic system? Will global recession be good news for the planet and for making art? Is this the best time to follow Timothy Leary’s advice: “Turn on, tune in, drop out”? Likewise, as file sharing rings the death knell of the music industry, will we see less mass-orchestrated pop sensations? Will musicians be more inclined to self-expression and artistic exploration once they no longer have the temptation to sell out?
Jack on the beach in Spain. Photo courtesy of the World/Inferno.
I first met our man o’ cloth way back in 1991, while I was working at Reconstruction Records, an all-volunteer punk record store in New York’s East Village. Back then, Jack was a snot-nosed teenager living under an assumed name with more than assumed parents in suburban New Jersey and fronted the band, Sticks and Stones. With Jack at the helm, Sticks and Stones restlessly explored new musical terrain – hardcore, punk, goth, techno, pop – until 1995, when his bandmates told him that they would go no further. Undeterred, Jack started the current cabaret revival by assembling the World/Inferno Friendship Society. The World/Inferno has since also explored a smattering of Northern Soul, pop, klezmer, and African-American spirituals. Now, several albums and scores of tours later, the World/Inferno has embarked in a more ambitious direction. They have integrated theater into their live performance in a production titled: Addicted to Bad Ideas: Peter Lorre’s Twentieth Century. Doubtless, their tour will inspire some imitators, but there ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby.
When I went to art school you could always tell the graphic design majors. They were always the well-dressed, well-groomed ladies and gentleman. Their clothes were unwrinkled and unstained; devoid of paint, charcoal, or bodily fluids. They had it together. It was only upon speaking with them that one was made aware that they had not slept in days, spending every waking moment creating a book of fonts that, they assured you were all quite different, despite what your eyes may tell you, Philistine.
Needless to say they were not the sort that would associate with a ne’er-do-well cartooning major like myself. These people had goals; they were going to get jobs, jobs that actually pertained to their field of study. They would be the ones who would pick the typeface for the books I read and insisted upon the inclusion of a short biography of said typeface near the back so that I would know just how this amazing evolution of the printed word came to be. They would lay out the magazine and brochures. They would make actual money. They would be able to eat on a regular basis. They may as well have been aliens.
It is for you, then, that I link this video. You will understand that this is no simple parody of Lady Gaga’s “Pokerface”, a performer who is a parody already, thereby making this only a part of a Moebius strip of parodies. No, this is truly a love letter to the subtle, almost mythical realm of typeface; a realm whose various shades are so subtle that only the true master can decipher the alchemy involved. It is a fabulous ode to mean lines and baselines, descenders and ascenders, serifs and the lack thereof; replete with bow-ties and beards.
To the rest of you I apologize for the graphic design and Gaga, but not for the beards and bow-ties.
via Bioephemera
[Image courtesy of Reuters]
Can one of you guys please get me this Yulia Tymoshenko doll for my birthday? A $53K porcelain representation of Lady Yu as Robin Hood, complete with a bow and arrow and leather boots fitted with spurs, isn’t too much to ask for this year, is it? Anyone? …guys? Okay, fine. I’ll settle for the homemade Barbie version. (Unless Marina Bychkova decides to take a stab at it.)
The dolly above, along with other figures of prominent Ukrainian politicians, was crafted by artist Yelena Kuznetsova for yesterday’s Ukrainian Doll Parade, an auction aimed towards raising money for the construction of an orphans’ rehabilitation center. Tymoshenko’s doll was by far the most popular; it was auctioned off for ten times the estimated price, according to news source RT.
Top row: L: Yulia shows the babybats how it’s done. R: Yulia and the Prince of Darkness. Bottom row: L: Yulia and her pet tigress, Tigrulya. R: Yulia knows how to accessorize.
The Coilhouse obsession with Tymoshenko (and, more recently, her tribe of Amazonian defenders) dates back to 2007. Since then, she’s been busy – negotiating oil disputes with Russia, campaigning for health reform, and galvanizing global support for leg-o-mutton sleeves and black lace. After falling out with President Yushchenko earlier this year, Tymoshenko announced her bid to run in the January 2010 Presidential Elections. While I’m neutral on Tymoshenko as a politician, I’m a staunch supporter of her hair and its commitment to solving the gas crisis.
Today is Tymoshenko’s birthday, so here’s wishing our Ukranian Dune Priestess the very best on her special day. Your update on Yulia’s gothic agenda, after the jump.
Intrigued. Enamored. Deeply amused. This is how I’m left feeling after watching Megumi Satsu videos. The striking French singer’s voice cascades like velvet and breaks like glass, while her hat collection is rivaled only by that of Grace Jones.
She left her native Sapporo, Japan for Paris in the seventies. In France, the enigmatic Satsu captured the attention of surrealist poet Jacques Prévert who wanted her to interpret some of his work. After doing just that, Megumi befriended sociologist Jean Baudrillard and artist/filmmaker Roland Topor. Both wrote songs for her. It’s hard to say whether she’s exactly “known” but the avant-garde underground clout can not be denied with such a repertoire. Among her song titles, Monte dans mon Ambulance [Ride My Ambulance], Motel Suicide Below, and Silicone Lady. Below, one of her few songs in English, Give Back My Soul.
The drama! The floorwork! The camp! I had an impossible time choosing which version of this song to post. The others are here , here, and here for your perusal; you decide which is best. Researching her, I’ve come across several Nina Hagen comparisons, but my friend Q. and I agree there’s more Anna Varney on enka than anything else. Megumi Satsu has stayed true to herself, maintaining a decidedly stark haircut, browless face and love of hats and cigarettes to this day. You can see recent photos of the singer along with another video below the jump. And! She has a new album out as of last week titled Aprés Ma Mort [After My Death] which can be obtained on her website. My new role model, indubitably.
