“Jansen is evolving an entirely new line of animals: immense multi-legged walking critters designed to roam the Dutch coastline, feeding on gusts of wind. Over the years, successive generations of his creatures have evolved into increasingly complex animals that walk by flapping wings in response to the wind, discerning obstacles in their path through feelers and even hammering themselves into the sand on sensing an approaching storm.”
Four names immediately spring to mind: Leonardo DaVinci, Mark Pauline, Hayao Miyazaki, and Lee Bontecou. Theo Jansen, the father of Animaris Percipiere and Animaris Rhinocerous, has just joined those venerable souls on my shortlist of creators who deserve to have glorious temples and shrines, even cities, built in their honor.
Big love to Justin for the elucidation. More images and comprehensive article links under the cut.
It’s Monday morning again. Drag yourself up from that Ambien fog with some wholesome, manly arena rock:
(Broken link updated.)
Fuck a bunch of Flashdance. 1984 belongs to Billy Squier and his no-holds-barred performance in the “Rock Me Tonight” video.
In all seriousness, I give this man infinite kudos for venturing waaay out of his comfort zone. Shame on all the repressed homosexuals who renounced him at the time. Take into account the concupiscent gender confusion of those hazy days. Times were a’changing for classic stadium rockers. Let no one cast a stone at Budokan Billy for trying to scramble aboard big hair metal’s bandwagon, for who among us has not been seduced by some unfortunate 80s trend, either in their unquestioning past, or the ironic now? (Not I, says the girl clad in fluffy mohair legwarmers.)
This dance is a good dance. A dance of reckless abandon, vulnerable and radiant. On this dour Monday morning while the coffee brews and the sun beats down upon my satin sheets, I will do your dance, Billy Squier, and do it right.
(Wearing elbow pads, of course. With the shades drawn.)
I’ve already mentioned the freeform radio station WFMU a few times on C.H. and I surely will again. Based out of Jersey City, this listener-supported outpost of obscure music and culture has been a constant source of delight to me since the mid 90s. Before then, I had no idea that kind of integrity or diversity existed in radio.
Today I’d like to make specific mention of Tom Scharpling’s modestly titled “The Best Show on WFMU”, a comedy segment that often features indie-rock luminary Jon Wurster masquerading as various call-in guests. I can’t think of anything more entertaining to listen to on this chilly Sunday evening than their mind-blowing gaff “The Music Scholar”. The Music Scholar
We all know at least one real-life Charles R. Martin: that elitist snob propped up at the end of every single hipster dive bar in the universe, oozing condescension and pretentiousness, a dismissive amateur musicologist given to Cooler-Than-Thou histrionics and compulsive one-upmanship. Wurster cranks these characteristics up to 11, reducing the most elitist Pitchfork writers or Bedford Avenue disputants to fleecy wee lambs by comparison.
But take heart, all ye heathens, Scrooges and secular humanists. There are so many delightful reasons to rejoice in the season besides the miraculous birth of Baby Jesus or being given a luxury SUV wrapped in a giant @#$!*& bow. Explore the wonderment beyond the cut.
Good morning. Get back to work. Oh, by the way, GIANT UNDERPANTS!
How could even the most veisalgic or seasonal affective disorder-suffering among us remain mopey after viewing this?
As a matter of fact, Paul Reubens always said that Pee-wee’s Playhouse wasn’t written for children so much as for hungover college students. Nonetheless, back in the day I was about as big a Pee-wee fan as any pre-pube could get. That clip’s got to be one of my top ten most cherished all-time TV moments. No, seriously.
We all know what happened to that poor man back in 1991. Got caught in an adult movie theater –apparently with his pants down– was arrested for “indecent exposure” and immediately vilified by the media. Reruns of his recently canceled show were quickly yanked off the air. Overnight, our beloved Pee-wee was reduced to a sniggering punchline. Does anyone else remember Reubens’ first public appearance afterwards on the MTV music awards? His sad-eyed “heard any good jokes lately?” delivery prompted cheers from the supportive crowd, but watching at home, I was in mourning. We all knew a death knell had been sounded.
To be more creative is to get closer to childhood.
-Sarah Moon
“Impressionist photographer” Sarah Moon has spent her entire career dancing down the high-wire tension line strung between fine-art and fashion photography. To my knowledge, she has yet to falter or repeat herself.
Her phantasmagoric vision, though often imitated, would be impossible to duplicate. Most anyone with the time and resources can become a darkroom wizard, and Moon certainly is, using capricious techniques like sepia coloring on matte paper, toned silver gelatin printing, solarization, monochrome Polaroid pack, etc. Much of the trendy work made through these means can seem a bit stale or derivative, lacking a certain sense of playfulness, don’t you think? The mischievous gut level allegory found in Moon’s most memorable compositions sets her apart.
Take a stroll through her dreamy fairy tale world beyond the cut.
It happened well over a decade ago, but the memory is crystal: my best bud Gooby Herms, fellow purveyor of All That Is Wackadoo, leaped up from the threadbare couch bellowing “holy crap, you’ve never seen the Billy Nayer Show?!” With a table top drum roll, he popped his scuzzy bootleg of The Ketchup and Mustard Man into the VCR and pressed play. My jaw hit the floor… repeatedly. I’ve been an idolator at the shrine of BNS ever since.
When bandleader Cory McAbee and company released The American Astronaut in 2001, I knew the world was in for it:
Space travel has become a dirty way of life dominated by derelicts, grease monkeys, and hard-boiled interplanetary traders such as Samuel Curtis… this sci-fi, musical-western uses flinty black and white photography, rugged Lo-Fi sets and the spirit of the final frontier. We follow Curtis on his Homeric journey to provide the all-female planet of Venus with a suitable male, while pursued by an enigmatic killer, Professor Hess. The film features music by The Billy Nayer Show and some of the most original rock n’ roll scenes ever committed to film.
Start the day off right by simultaneously drying your face and contemplating mortality with a little help from the Tyrolean Towel Rack of IMMINENT DOOM. DOOOOM:
This fetching piece of Germanic history can be found in the Tiroler Volkskunstmuseum in Innsbruck, Austria. The sprawling complex is chock full of similarly bizarre pieces of functional art, like intricately painted antique cabinets, traditional ceremonial costumes, jaunty beast-headed sleighs, embellished tools, and lavishly personalized weaponry. Several historic walk-through “rooms” dating back to the Gothic and Rococo eras have been reassembled, replete with original hand-carved wood paneled walls, stoves, kitchenware and benches on which one can sit for a moment to rest.
My traveling companions and I spent several blissful hours ooohing and aaahing over everything. At one point, Dawn, an accomplished yodeler, was actually moved to song, her joyous yips reverberating up and down the long stone hallways.
I realize the fog machine/polyester armpit vapors of my last post are still fresh in your nostrils. Apologies if the following clip is officially too much of a good thing. Then again, can’t everyone can use one more reason to love this man?
Yep. That’s Richard Pryor fronting a deadly funk/metal band that looks like Sunn O))) on national television in 1977. This is indeed a strange and glorious universe.
