Hey again, all. In my recent wanderings around the `Net, I've been uncovering some great photographic finds (y'know, in lieu of composing any original content here). Again, I'll return to regular programming shortly, but still need to land a few planes before normal service can resume. In any case, this morning I uncovered Heaventree, an East Village photoblog that seems to have stalled activity sometime in 2007. Anyway, there are some nice images herein. Give it a look.
Via a random Google search, I stumbled across a truly stirring collection of Manhattan pics from the 70s. You'll hardly recognize the streets depicted therein. To see them, scroll down from here. Enjoy!
I was sad to read on the NY1 website this morning that the Pink Tea Cup, an age-old soul food joint in the West Village, is slated to close. I don't think I'd set foot in the place in the last several years, but I remember having a few spirited brunches there back in the 90s. The last time I was there, I remember laughing like a hyena with my friend Sean. We were commenting on all the autographed photos of the celebrity patrons on the wall, and trying to think of the least likely ones you could imagine spotting. After bandying several disparate names about, I won with the suggestion of Senator Orrin Hatch, which reduced Sean to hysterics. Sadly, Senator Orrin Hatch is still around, and now the Pink Tea Cup isn't. Pour one out.
Check out Jeremiah's latest entry about the plight of one of the last remaining Revs Cost murals on 23rd street. Manhattan's uniqely gritty urban character is getting whitewashed.
Okay, I'm kind of cheating on this one. I found the top photo of the Flatiron Building through fog via This Isn't Happiness, who in turn found it on The New York Times' site. The photo was taken by one Jessie Tarbox Beals circa 1920. I spotted it on that Tumblr site and was blown away. I walk basically right through that strip twice a day. In any case, this morning, I tried to replicate the shot and find the exact spot Beals must have been standing in (now right in front of the mysterious Commodore Criterion building, where it's always Christmas). My picture really isn't quite as dramatic as Beals', but it's an interesting contrast just the same.
Looking South on Fifth Avenue from the northwest corner of 25th Street, 1920:
Looking South on Fifth Avenue from the northwest corner of 25th Street, 2009:
Some of you may have yet to reach this point in your lives, but have you ever gotten that tell-tale epiphany upon walking into a bar/club/disco wherein you're immediately struck with the observation, "Gee, I'm way too old and way not hip enough to be here"? If you haven't felt it yet, don't worry, baby .... it's coming.
Since getting married and procreating and clogging up Manhattan's narrow byways with my double-stroller (how dare I, eh?), my club-hopping days have been rather sharply curtailed. The wife & I still get out on occasion, but my own personal era of endless nights on the tiles is pretty much way behind me. This wasn't always the case, though. From the late 80s and well into the 90s, New York City was just as much my nocturnal, booze-fueled playground as anyone's, and I loitered like a louche lothario in any number of seedy bars, sweaty rock venues and crowded dance clubs. From Max Fish, CBGB and GreendoorNYC to Big City Diner, Palldium and the Limelight, I took advantage of Manhattan's network of nitespots, and fun was verily had.
These days, though, even if I'm getting out the door to see a band or to simply knock back some beers with friends, I'm usually in before 1am. If I do find myself somewhere hip & cool, I'm invariably gripped with the observation detailed in the first graf. If you relish the squirmy revelation that everyone in the room is cooler, sexier, more uninhibited, has more party stamina and is probably having way more libidinous fun than you, then boy do I have the website for you. Avail yourselves to Nate "Igor" Smith's Driven By Boredom and you'll find more pictures of svelte hipsters, douchey hepcats, scantily clad party people, tattooed rock folk and ... inexplicably ... football game talegaters than can be quantified. It's a visually dazzling and bizarrely intimate depiction of current NYC nightlife without the hangover, and you're clothes won't stink the next morning. Regardless of your disposition, it's an interesting collection of photography. Be warned, though, it's largely NSFW.
Hey all! It's a slushy Saturday night here in NYC. As such, herewith a roundup of stuff that I've been perusing...
Glen Matlock, original bass player & primary songwriter of the Sex Pistols, is evidently going to perform an acoustic set at a small club on Avenue C , of all places.
Speaking of the `Pistols and all things punk, Slicing Up Eyeballs has a report on how that Public Image Ltd. reunion's going.
While you're there, why not check out their holiday gift guide. I have a couple of these items already, but feel free to peruse if you're intent on not getting me that "Apocalypse Now" poster I've been coveting.
Max Fish on Ludlow Street celebrated its 20th anniversary recently. I can't say I've set foot in the place the last ten years, but I was a regular customer during its first ten and still harbor many a fond memory. I have vivid recollections of scrawling many an anguished paean on its bathroom wall about the premature demise of Cop Shoot Cop. I'm sure they've since been painted over by now.
Speaking of the bathroom of Max Fish, why not indulge in some prurience and check out Igor Smith's bathroom portraits (i.e. shots of nude hipsters, punks, club kids, rock chicks and indie folks in NYC club bathrooms). Be warned. It's refreshingly dirty and inappropriate.
Check out some of Matt Weber's striking photography on New York City here on his website, Urban Photos. Great stuff.
Check out Scout's favorite building in midtown Manhattan. I'm ashamed to say that I've never noticed it.
Cultural Dictionary of Punk provides you a tantalizing glimpse of "Radio On."
Unkle Sleaz provides a long overdue update on the forthcoming Coil boxset, Colour Sound Oblivion (which sounds awesome).
As always, you need to go check out This Isn't Happiness, because it's always rife with visual coolness.
Lastly, I've rather inexplicably rekindled my adoration for early 80's Oi of late, so without further ado, herewith the Cockney Rejects....
Barely a year after it opened its doors, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Annex in Soho is closing. Can't exactly say it's a great loss.
Lately, you may have noticed that I've been linking to a Tumblr blog entitled This Isn't Happiness. I quite like the idea behind it -- just an endless stream of images that the blogmaster finds compelling ... for whatever reason. Being a needlessly verbose individual, I usually cannot resist the urge to couch the images I present here between multiple paragraphs of extraneous information. For the past couple of years, however, I've been amassing a collection of images -- largely music-related -- that I'd presumably intended to attach to any number of blog posts which, for one reason or another, never managed to come to fruition. Taken out of context, though, they make for an interesting assortment. Thus, in the spirit of This Isn't Happiness, herewith my own random selection of images. Consider it a bit of premature spring cleaning, if you will. Enjoy.
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