Once Upon A TimeTM and Long, Long Ago ® (1991 to be precise), a tiny enchanted prince came to rule over our dark and troubled kingdom. In this grand realm populated by porcelain damsels, excitable clowns, and shit-caked teddy bears with baleful button eyes, the omniscient Wee Potty Prince sees all, smells all.
Even as you read this, he’s waiting, perched on the rim of your bathtub in a jaunty red beret and suspenders. You might not see him, but he is there, I assure you. Swinging his legs, tooting on his maaaagic flute. Watching you.
Revelation du jour: as much as I adore all things Ye Olde (read: stained, blanched, sepia-tinted, distressed, Dover-collagey… or just plain black) and will undoubtedly continue to incorporate time-honored neo-Victorian aesthetics into my decor and wardrobe, an internal plate has shifted. Lately I’m finding myself –possibly for the first time since I was a toddler cutting my teeth on primary-colored Legos and rubber balls– infected by an entirely different strain of retro: mod-futurism.
Rest assured, no one’s about to run out and buy some garish, orange one-piece pantsuit (though I’ll freely admit to a burgeoning obsession with the OVALIA “Egg Chair”). What I am doing is poring over every last Peggy Moffitt/Rudi Gernreich photo book I can find. Via FIDM:
Hers is the face that launched a thousand ripples through the fashion world when she wore the world’s first topless bathing suit. “Designer of the future” Rudi Gernreich considered Peggy Moffitt to be his muse and model of choice for his controversial designs. With her Kabuki-inspired face painting, Peggy created her own unique look in the Sixties. Gernreich collaborated with super hair stylist Vidal Sassoon to create Peggy’s trademark hairstyle. He gave her a short helmet haircut, with precise geometric bangs cut right to her eyebrows. She also created her own makeup style with heavy black and white eyeliner and long false eyelashes to exaggerate her huge dark eyes. She took the term “strike a pose” very seriously in front of the camera. She made Gernreich’s clothes all the more extreme with her striking presence.
Peggy Moffitt is an icon and innovator of fashion who didn’t just wear designs, she inspired them. Even super sixties model Twiggy said, “She taught me how much more a model puts in her work than just a pretty face.”
A few of those frocks look hideously dated now, but more often than not, Gernreich’s colorful, daring designs read to me like peals of laughter in a musty tomb. And Moffitt always looks smashing; an updated technicolor incarnation of Lulu Brooks; fearless and versatile. I don’t know that 95% of these pieces are something I would ever want wear, but they sure do make me happy.
Click below for more smile-inducing images of the Muse of Mod after the jump.
Damn it, my laptop’s power supply cable just queefed and died. I’ll have to be extra quick with BTC this morning before my little external brain goes sreepytime. Luckily, I have just the thing cued up on my playlist:
Scrumptious promo image for HF’s first (and only) album, Battle Hymns For Children Singing. I can’t be the only one who imprinted on Kate Garner’s fashion designs. Stripey, stripey…
Ragamuffin pop duo Haysi Fantayzee *cough* formed in London in the early 80s. Typing out that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad name is like nails on a grammarian’s chalkboard, and the label “Dickensian Hillbilly Rasta” makes me cry blood. Still, I love these guys with a deep, doofy devotion rivaled only by the size of my permaboner for fellow Brit-fops Adam Ant and Boy George.
Performed by Jeremiah Healy and Kate Garner, produced by Garner’s then-boyfriend Paul Caplin, Haysi Fantayzee’s *twitch* UK dance hit, “Shiny Shiny” is quite possibly the most chipper song about the apocalypse ever written (short of Fishbone’s “Party at Ground Zero”). May the antics of these two sexy human fraggles help you dance your cute petudies all the way to work.
A couple more Haysi Fantayzee *gack* clips after the jump.
Who else here has a list (I mean an actual, tangible, ink-on-paper list) of places they want to go and things they want to do/see before they kick the bucket? Anyone? Care to share?
Near the tippy top of my own list is a visit to England specifically to witness massive flocking formations of starlings over the moors in the West Midlands. Hundreds of thousands of them gather each year to tumble together through the air at dusk, swerving suddenly, veering arbitrarily, always in perfect unison, never colliding, sometimes for hours before coming down to roost for the evening. Birders travel from all over the world to observe the phenomenon. Scientists have been studying their swarming behavior to develop artificial technology:
Before I die, I must see this with my own eyes. International Coilhouse field trip, anyone?
Musically, I have two main guilty pleasures: ABBA and And One. Like most bands producing evil dance music, And One is best enjoyed when the lyrics are sung in German, for it provides fodder for interpretations such as the one above. If you like your Boyd Rice like this, and your Bollywood films like that, then hit play, get up, and be ready to punch the floor to this EBM classic like you’ve never heard it before.
It’s hard to quantify the effects minimalist composer Steve Reich’s “phasing” meditations can have on average human grey matter. The best way I know to describe my own listening experience is a wonky, tripped out sensation of neglected synaptic channels in my brainy bits being seared open and reconnected to other brainy bits in new and unusual ways. Occipital, Parietal, Temporal, Frontal, Limbic… feels like they’re all getting a rigorous, interactive workout. If I listen long enough to this sort of thing, it’ll pitch me into a contemplative state not quite beyond reflexive thinking, but certainly more relaxed, more present, somehow. Kinda like toking, but without “I CAN HAZ CHEEZBURGER” side effects.
Clip via Ben Morris, thanks. I truly don’t think it matters whether you have a staid background in music, or math, or both. Whether you understand wtf Aidu’s doing here or not, it’ll stir your noodles. Drop into this stuff and stew for a little while.
This abridged rendition of Reich’s “Piano Phase” by Russian concert pianist Peter Aidu is literally head-splitting. The piece is usually performed by two pianists, one of whom repeats the same sequence of notes over and over again at exactly the same tempo, while the other player gradually speeds up and then slows back down, eventually returning to a unified BPM before the pattern starts again. That’s basically all phasing is. Sounds simple enough, right? But try playing one part of it and you’ll soon realize just how difficult it is to sustain. As for performing two separate parts simultaneously? Great googly moogly.
Aidu’s concentration is astounding. He’s got the hypnotized, slightly crazed expression of someone who’s gone to another plane entirely. (It’s a look I always envy on other musician’s faces. If I could, I’d opt to live “in the zone” all the time.) If you like the clip, be sure to grab the full 20 minute version on archive.org.
Detractors of minimalist experimentation with phasing and polyrhythm all say the same thing; the resulting music is boring, pretentious, cerebral, emotionless. I suspect they’re missing the point entirely. Personally I find the form to be an invigorating causeway to the same meditative state invoked by more traditional forms like gamelan and ketjak. What do you think?
Click below for more Reich-related audiovisual trip toys.
—My Dad (standard response whenever I expressed interest in skydiving, bungee-jumping, para-surfing, parkour, driving a motorcycle, skateboarding, driving without a seat belt, crossing the street against a red light, not washing my hands before dinner, forgetting to floss, etc) 1976 – ?
“Have you ever heard of proximity flying? Fascinating. I’m thinking of getting myself a wingsuit for my birthday. If you hear a loud, dull thud, you will know my jump from our roof was unsuccessful.”
—My Dad, 2009
My dad is getting quite XTREEM in his golden years, it would seem! He’s just about the last person I’d expect to get base-jumping links from. Nevertheless, pops just sent me this clip from the Matchstick-produced “action sports” documentary, Seven Sunny Days. It is, hands down, the most beautiful wingsuit footage I’ve ever seen. Instant adrenaline rush. Thank you, Doctor Yay!
Click below for more astounding “squirrel suit” clips from around the world.
Mer is incapacitated this morning from too much music-making, so it’s fallen to me to deliver you this segment of Better Than Coffee in her stead. What’s going on in the clip above has been described by photographer and Issue 01 contributor Clayton James Cubitt in the following terms: “Champagne, Wii Fit, Love, Cold NYC Nights, Nerds. In no particular order.” Looking at the clip, I recognize a few faces: Siege himself, his muse KT, Molly Crabapple, Ellen Stagg… the clip may be full of talented hotties, but its true beauty is the dizzy, dorky exuberance. Siege may be a brilliant photographer, but as this clip demonstrates, his video-editing prowess is not to be denied.
They say that how you spend your New Year’s Eve is how the rest of your year will go, and if that’s true, it looks like the folks in this clip are set. Has this belief held true for you? How did you spend your last night of 2008?
“I got hair on my chest. I look good without a shirt.” – Tom Waits
I had this ridiculously hot friend in high school who looked like a punk rock, flannel-clad version of Fabio. Big, built, rustic, hairy, unrepentant manbro. He’d come swaggering into 2nd period economics class reeking of Pabst and cigarettes, start an argument with the teacher over the ethics of business regulation or the Coase theorem (did I mention he was brilliant to boot?) and all the weird girls would just swoon.
“Goin’ Out West” – Tom Waits
This guy regularly favored me with bonecrushing hugs that blotted out the sun. As I recall, even freshly showered, he had a musky, vaguely goat-like odor. Being slammed face-first into his armpit should’ve been off-putting, but somehow wasn’t. In fact, I think I must have imprinted on the gent and his scent, because all these years later, there’s still a very special place in my crotch heart for brawny, unshaven, man-stinky lumberjack types with big hands and lantern jaws.
“Lumberjack” – Jackyl
This testosterone-injected morningwood edition of BTC goes out to all of the big, built, rustic, hairy, unrepentant manbros of the world… and the loincloth-sniffing perverts who love them.
Click below for more Beorn porn (and please do add your own in comments)!
EDITOR’S NOTE: Argh, I know, I’m really late with this one. Slept ’til noon, then had to hop on a train. Fuggit. Let’s consider it a special midnight BTC edition for folks who are working the graveyard shift or traveling/packing/wrapping for the holidays and in need a pick-me-up of the non-denominational, demonic variety, shall we?
Hellhounds are mythical demon dogs from HELL. (Say it wiff meh… HEEEAAGGHHHHHLLLLLLL.)
Video by Brian Boyce, who also made this and lots of other brilliant crap.
Hellhounds carry themselves in an aggressive or baleful manner. They may have glowing red eyes, supernatural abilities, or even the giftof humanspeech. They’re associated with fire (say it wiff meh… FIIIGHHYAAAAAHHHHHH) and endowed with flaming fiery blowtorchy powers or/or appearances. Hellhounds are often designated guardians to the entrance to the world of the dead. Or, in this case, designated guardians of the filthy, dog-hair-encrusted couch you slept on all night after passing out in a puddle of regurgitated egg nog.
(Oh, wait, sorry, that was me. I’d better go wash my hair now.)
EDITOR’S NOTE PART DEUX, ELECTRIC BOOGALOO: Hmm. Just noticed that Better Than Coffee is a bit pooch–obsessed lately. Apologies to all (especially Warren, who loathes dogs even more than I loathe Anne Geddes photos). Just to make sure I get it all out of my system, I’m including twenty-five clips of dogs eating peanut butter after the jump.
