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It’s sadly over now, and I wasn’t originally going to post anything more about it (than I already did), as I know that not everybody was as into it as I was. But while I've been lamenting the end of “Twin Peaks: The Return,” I stumbled upon one of those inevitable “mash-up” tributes that is actually amazingly well done … so much so that it’s almost uncanny.
If you’re not a fan of the show, it’s not going to make much sense to you, but otherwise…. enjoy.
Stumbled upon this in the perilous backwaters of YouTube. It’s a documentary about No Wave, but, unfortunately, it’s in German. The description translated reads:
ARTE Documentation on the phenomenon of the "No Wave", which was created as part of the "Summer of the 80s" series.
Some cool footage herein, if you can overlook not understanding any of the dialogue, ... unless of course you speak that guttural, Teutonic tongue.
Genießen Sie bitte!
Easily as far back as this blog has been running (12 years, as of this past July), and invariably for some years prior to that, whenever a once-cherished neighborhood institution, long-running bar and/or lovingly curated mom’n’pop shop was excised from the streetscape over unreasonably spiralling rents, the popular refrain from change-wary and gentrification-weary local residents was “it’ll probably become a bank, a Starbucks or a CVS.” In those instances when something other than one of those three depressing options sprouted up in the footprint of the former local favorite, the inevitable rejoinder was then akin to “hey, at least it’s not a bank, a Starbucks or a CVS!”
It was a common utterance because it had becme so true. In 2017, there indeed are too many bank branches. There are WAY too many fucking Starbucks. There are too many CVS’s. I don’t mean to single out CVS, here… ther are also way too many Duane Reades and too many goddamn Wallgreens, but you doubtlessly get my point. In much the same way we don’t need another TD Bank outlet or another place to pay handsomely for some inarguably burnt-tasting coffee, we don’t need another location for a pharmaceutical chain. Feel free to click your tonuges and write me off as another hopeless NYC nostalgist, but you know damn well I’m not wrong on this point.
More recently, however, I’ve noticed another option that has joined the legions of banks, drug-store chains and Starbucks outlets as unwieldy limbs of the tireless hydra of homogenization that is gradually devouring New York City, and their proliferation is almost overtaking their afore-mentioned predecessors.
Put simply, we really, really don’t need any more Soul Cycle studios, Barry’s Boot Camps or any further nouvelle boxing gyms.
I don’t mean to knock anyone’s attempts to get healthy and better themselves, but if you’re so fucking dead-set on fucking fitness, why not walk the extra couple of blocks to an already existing one of these temples of perspiration?
WE DON’T NEED ANY MORE NEW ONES! ENOUGH ALREADY.
One might almost imagine U2 would get bored of New York, but they keep coming back. Their new video for “You’re The Best Thing About Me” finds the lads cavorting merrily around New York City in one of those double-deckered tourist buses, and stopping to have beers and disreputably procure $1 pizza (I’ve warned you against this). Most of the shots find them around Rockefeller Center and Times Square -– to my mind two of the most cliched locales you could choose, but whatever. Their hearts were doubtlessly in the right place.
That all said, they kind of already did this back in 2005 with their video for “All Because of You,” which featured the band taking a page from the Rolling Stones (and Bjork, for that matter) and renting a flatbed truck and driving around NYC.
Prior to that, of course, there was also the now comparatively ancient video for “One,” which found our Bono lounging stylishly in Nell’s on West 14th street before manfully repairing to the streets to join his bandmates on –- wait for it -– Times Square.
There’s probably at least one other video that features them in New York in some capacity, but I can’t think of what it is. That all said, I did stumble up on the video below which -– topically speaking -– arguably should boast some footage of New York, but does not.
Honestly speaking, while I still quite like them, I stopped buying new U2 albums around the era of All That You Can’t Leave Behind. I just sort of felt I had everything I needed from them, by that point. As such, I am less aware of their more recent work. I am especiallly unfamiliar with 2014’s Songs of Innocence, which is the album they controvertially diseeminated by way of Apple prodicts. I suppose I must own in as result (don’t get me started about Apple products), but I’ve yet to give it a spin.
That’s why I’d never really listened to this song until today. This is “The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone),” which documents U2’s reverence for da brudders, despite sounding nothing like the fabled Queens ensemble.
I already knew that story, however, as I’ve mentioned here at least once (and, knowing me, I probably revisited it needlessly, as I’m doing now), I interviewed Bono in 2001 upon the death of Joey Ramone. You can read that whole saga here.
When I saw U2 this past summer, they didn’t play their new song above, they didn’t play the song below, they didn’t play “All Because of You.”
They did play “One.”
As a native New Yorker, prone to waxing nostalgic --- to put it mildly --– about the way things used to be, I sometimes forget that not everyone perceives the acceleration of change the same way I do. Sure, social media acts as a veritable echo chamber where the like-minded can console each other by reinforcing fiercely held opinions, but it’s prudent-albeit-depressing to remember that outside of one’s immediate circle of friends and confidants, not everyone sees the world the same way. Take a look at the political theater of the day if you need any indication of how that plays out. What seems perfectly reasonable to one group might seem uproariously unthinkable to another.
Over the weekend, I was walking north up my home stretch of University Place and stuck in a typical NYC scenario. I could not manage to escape the annoying conversation between a pair of my fellow pedestrians. They were right behind me at first, and then I paused to tie my shoe, unwittingly ending up right behind them, as they slowly ambled up the thoroughfare. Essentially, the male half of this presumably platonic couple was spinning a laboriously shaggy yarn about his travails in the perilous realm of online dating services, and loudly lamenting an especially bad date he’d suffered via the auspices of a website on which he’d neglected to update his profile. Given this gentleman’s pronounced penchant for emphatically expressed self-pity, I wasn’t especially surprised to learn of his botched romantic endeavors. I’d only endured two city blocks in the proximity of his company, and I was practically ready to garrote him.
Regardless, on the southeast corner of East 12th Street and University Place, he suddenly broke off from his ponderous narrative and looked up, literally gaping in awe at the rising condo tower on the northwestern corner. You might remember I first spoke of this development back on this post. “Hello!” he remarked, “that’s certainly new!”
You don’t have to be a neighborhood resident, downtown Manhattanite or even native New Yorker to resent the staggering proliferation of exclusive real estate development that has besieged this city as a whole in the past few years. Our cityscape has become swiftly complicated by spindly spires, sun-blocking monoliths and imperious towers with little-to-no regard for the heritage and/or architectural integrity of the neighborhoods in which they’ve been erected. And who can afford to live in these domains, where the condition of militantly uncompromising luxury is the watchword? Are the new occupants of these gleaming palaces going to be satisfied with procuring their coffee at the same unfussy delis as the rest of us, or should we just say our goodbyes to the local businesses now as plans to replace them with more congruous and aspirational ventures are tirelessly drawn up -- blithely ignoring the well-named “high-end blight” that has already engulfed so many such neighborhoods?
With the above paragraph already composing itself in my mind, I expected star-crossed Digital Romeo in front of me to sigh with resignation or allude to it being the former home of Bowlmor Lanes, Japonica, Stromboli Pizza or several other displaced ventures.
“What an amazing location for apartments!” he gushed.
People suck.
I used to do this a lot more often when they were littler, but over the weekend, whilst we were out and about, I couldn’t help but ask my kids to strike a couple of specific poses.
Finding ourselves meandering around Central Park on Sunday morning, we passed by a spot I’d highlighted here just a couple of days earlier. As such, here are Charlotte & Oliver unwittingly replicating a photograph of the great Nick Cave, minus the menacing glare, of course.
Later in the day, meanwhile, I made the grievous mistake of suggesting we go to Hoboken. This isn’t to suggest that it’s always ill-advised to visit the neighboring city in question, but to venture onto the streets of Hoboken on an unseasonably sweltering Sunday afternoon during the height of football season (let alone one so politically charged), one’s senses are more than likely to be bombarded by myriad examples of abject douchebaggery. As a result, my children got to see, hear and smell Hoboken at its arguable worst. My loose plan was to visit a record store on Washington Street called Tunes. We did that, walked over to the river to gaze at Manhattan from a different vantage point, and then stealthily sprinted back to the PATH.
In any case, on our way over to the Jersey side, upon descending the stairs into the PATH station on West 9th Street, I was struck by the structural similarity to a particular stairwell in another iconic image of doom-laden post-punk royalty. See below.
The shot we were attempting to pay homage to, of course, being Anton Corbijn's photo of Joy Division below...
Lastly, this wasn't a tribute to another photo, but whilst waiting for a train, I glanced up and captured Oliver walking toward me in a moment of seemingly perfect visual symmetry. I think it came out quite well.
Under normal circumstances, I would never opine about anything to do with football or the NFL, because, personally speaking, I hate professional sports with literally every fiber of my being. But, ultimately, the idiotic football aspect of these events is incidental. It's not about sports, it's about exercising one's right to free speech, even if that expression flies in the face of blind patriotism.
Moreover, the real emphasis here should be on asking, understanding and acknowledging WHY these players are putting themselves at risk and choosing this powerful and influential forum to express themselves.
Ultimately, getting upset at a football player for taking a knee is tantamount to getting upset at an actor, author, musician, entertainer or any public figure for using their high profile to espouse a cause (the cause in this instance, should you be unaware, being to highlight the fact that systemic racism is continuing to divide this nation). Sorry if that ruins your sporty football mood. I'd like to assume it's because these players feel it's more important than football.
Now do I wish we lived in a world where football games weren't considered so goddamn crucial? You bet I do, but way more than that, I wished we lived in a world where these individuals didn't feel it was so necessary to have to knowingly risk their jobs and their reputations -- let alone endure threats -- just for expressing their convictions.
Hey all. I know I keep threatening to post something more substantial here, but life keeps getting in the way, so I appreciate your patience. At the moment, I have three pieces in the works -- one a rumination about T.S.O.L, the next a screed about the designed obsolescence of certain music-listening devices and a re-visitation to an older iteration of Downtown Music Gallery when it was still in the East Village. Please stay tuned for those.
In the interim, however, it's Nick Cave's birthday today. The picture up top of our Nick dates back to his days (and I believe "days" is exactly the term) with the short-lived supergroup, the Immaculate Consumptives. In fact, you may remember me mentioning them back on this photo location quiz from 2011. This shot above, which I'd never seen before today, presumably came from that same session, featuring our Nicholas looking especially menacing against the northern-facing fence of Sheep's Meadow in Central Park. Suitable for framing, really.
My adoration for Cave's music was rekindled by his most recent album, The Skeleton Tree, although given the circumstances of its recording -- done in the wake of the tragic death of one Cave's young sons -- it is by no means an easy listen.
As such, here's my favorite version of "Tupelo" from the Live Seeds album. This can never be loud enough:
I regret to say that I was strenuously late to the table on No Thanks. Bred from the same proto/early NYHC scene that spawned bands like The Stimulators, False Prophets and my beloved Kraut (to name but three), it’s a wonder why they didn’t make it onto ROIR’s seminal primer in NYC hardcore punk, New York Thrash. I know our friend RB Korbet of Even Worse was and remains a big friend of No Thanks’ Donna Damage.
In any case, here’s an actual video made by No Thanks prior to their initial dissolution. In their own words…
The last gasp of NO THANKS was a highly experimental shift from hardcore to post-hardcore,,, the early nyhc scene was dead ,, and this video says goodbye,, thx to P. Gentui for the awesome photography.
The photography, as cited, is pretty cool. I also think the direction they were headed (i.e. away from hardcore) was pretty compelling.
In any case, enjoy this brief nugget from 1984….
As I’ve recalled on many a post here (most recently this one), I first heard the singular strains of the music of Devo in 1978. In fact, for the purposes of not rehashing old news, here’s what I had to say from that post.
I think the first time I ever heard or saw Devo was via an episode of "Saturday Night Live." We were up at my cousins’ place in the Berkshires and, by some lapse of parental judgement, I was allowed to stay up late (I being about 11 at the time). Fred Willard was the host and introduced them, and no one in the room seemed quite sure whether they were a real band or simply another surreal sketch. I was later fully indoctrinated into the faith at Great Oaks, a camp up in Maine, via the prescient musical tastes of an older schoolmate (hello Andrew Romeo), and there was no going back.
I was indeed firmly indoctrinated into irretrievable Devo fandom after that summer at Great Oaks. Oddly enough, I remember having a sort of tense summit with some of my Queen-, Kiss- and Pink Floyd-loving pals when I got back home. I assured them that I still liked all those other bands, but that I’d really gotten into Devo’s first album. Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! “I thought you said you just found them funny,” said one of my best friends, emphatically worded as a thinly-veiled accusation of betrayal. It might sound ridiculous to say this now, but -– at the time -– showcasing an appreciation for the likes of Devo was virtually a palpably divisive act.
It continues to be debated whether Devo qualified as a proper punk band, but as far as I was ever concerned, they had enough in common in both approach and sensibility to the arguably more clearly defined punks (despite the alleged mutual antagonism between them and their fellow Buckeyes in the Dead Boys), to be counted among them. Summarily, as quaint as it all might seem now, they didn’t go down well with everyone. As discussed back on this post, the very work Punk as an appellation or descriptor invited genuine scorn. The expression of support for both Devo and Punk Rock used to require a bit more nerve.
But express it I did (see this post for embarrassing photographic invocations of same). And as I said in that post -- penned in the wake of the death of Bob “2” Casale -– I was once accosted by a total stranger on Lexington Avenue who, upon spotting my freshly procured DEVO t-shirt, forcefully expressed his considered opinion that “Yo, man… fuckin’ DEVO SUCKS!”
Why am I bothering bringing this all back up now? Well, because today I learned that “Uncontrollable Urge,” the incendiary first track on Q: Are We Not Men? is now being used in an ad for American Express credit cards.
I need to stop being surprised and offended by such things, but I still find it striking that this subversive music that meant so much to me for being so daring, different and endearingly, diametrically opposed to the yawnsome, clichéd bullshit of the day is now being used to basically score a montage of entrepreneurial office drones achieving workaday business tasks.
We’re all Devo!
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