Posts tagged "the guardian"

Friday Night I Crashed Your Party: Pop Culture Round-Up

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Some ‘Girls’ Are Better Than Others.” Heather Havrilesky. New York Times.

Hannah, like so many women walking the line between the coddling of girlhood and the realities of adulthood, doesn’t hoot or cackle or tell it like it is. Most young women, even if they’re assertive and determined, still find themselves, in those forlorn in-between years, apologizing for themselves, blurting some muddled, half-finished thought and, finally, resolving to take up less space.

The Unsinkable Heart of Titanic: 15 Years After Titanic, Does the Power Ballad Go On?” Ann Powers. NPR.

What’s changed is what we expect of an individual performer, comparable to the culture’s reduced interest in singular stories. Our hyperlinked lives, dominated by the need to constantly respond to new information through social media, mobile technology and ubiquitous advertising, branding, news feeds and other media onslaughts, work against the old-fashioned absorbing experience of the blockbuster. Some will find this a relief. Others will mourn its loss. It’s hard to sit in a theater for three-plus hours now and not check your text messages. (iPhone screens flashed all around me when I went to see Titanic.) And it can feel wrong, somehow, to give in to one strong voice determined to wipe away all others, even for only a few minutes.

Jack White: Blunderbuss - review.” Alexis Petridis. The Guardian.

The red herring of the White Stripesish single Sixteen Saltines aside, Blunderbuss is a 45-minute double-take, one long “hang on a minute”. But then so, you could argue, is Jack White’s career. “People around me … want me the same,” he laments on On and On and On, which seems wide of the mark. If people mourned the White Stripes’ passing, it might have less to do with a passion for the familiar than a sense that the strange, contradictory, unfathomable figure White cut as half of that duo was more interesting than the straightforward powerpop or 70s blues-rock musician he appears to be in the Raconteurs or the Dead Weather. 

The Forty-Year Itch.” Adam Gopnik. The New Yorker.

What drives the cycle isn’t, in the first instance, the people watching and listening; it’s the producers who help create and nurture the preferred past and then push their work on the audience. Though pop culture is most often performed by the young, the directors and programmers and gatekeepers—the suits who control and create its conditions, who make the calls and choose the players—are, and always have been, largely forty-somethings, and the four-decade interval brings us to a period just before the forty-something was born. Forty years past is the potently fascinating time just as we arrived, when our parents were youthful and in love, the Edenic period preceding the fallen state recorded in our actual memories.

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Norah Jones’ new LP, Little Broken Hearts. (NPR.)

“Night and Day” - Hot Chip.

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“Warm Ridin’.” Diarrhea Planet.

Girls - Pilot Episode. HBO via Youtube.

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Official list of Record Store Day releases.

Nashville Film Festival schedule.

Celebrate

Monday to Monday and Friday to Friday: Pop Culture Round-Up

A very belated Pop Culture Round-Up on account of, finals!

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5-10-15-20 with Johnny Marr. Mark Richardson. Pitchfork.

The first 45 I ever bought with my own money was a T. Rex record, which, luckily, is very cool. It was a fluke, though— it was in a bargain shoebox in a furniture store, and I didn’t know what it was. But I bought it because it had a picture of Marc Bolan on the B-side label, and I figured I was getting more bang for my buck!

[…]

When Angie and I first got together, the first thing we did was make each other a mixtape— that’s what you do with people you love.

How Samuel L. Jackson Became His Own Genre. Pat Jordan. New York Times Magazine.

Jules was the moral center of “Pulp Fiction,” Jackson told me recently, “because he carried himself like a professional.” The same can be said of Jackson as an actor. “Before Jules,” he went on, “my characters were just ‘The Negro’ who died on Page 30. Every script I read, ‘The Negro’ died on Page 30.” He thundered in character as Jules for a moment, repeating his point in saltier language, then returned to himself and said: “After Jules, I became the coolest [expletive] on the planet. Why? I have no clue. I’m not like Jules. It’s called being an actor.”

Grimes: nine days without food, sleep, or company gave me Visions. Sam Richards. The Guardian.

Yet despite her own version of the hat and the waistcoat – the dyed fringe, the occultish homemade tattoos – Claire insists that Grimes is not a kooky persona that she slips on and off with her rings. “That would be cheesy, and I’m really bad at faking it. If I’m a bad mood I can’t go onstage and smile. Sometimes my show is really emotional and quiet and sometimes the same set is like a punk show where I turn up the distortion and scream.”

Why We Fight: Bubble Pop, On The R&B Vocalist Miguel, Screaming Females, and closed cultural loops. Nitsuh Abebe. Pitchfork.

The songs on Ugly are well-composed, well-paced, and well-structured. But there’s also a quality in some of them that it feels like it could only come from a band that thinks the basement is always realer than the internet, and spent time cruising comfortably outside the ken of many potential fans. “Red Hand”, for instance, does not seem like the kind of song one sits down and thinks up as an aesthetic missive to listeners. It seems like the kind of song that comes from people who spent a lot of time in a room together, and do it well enough that they can grab a simple idea— the song starts with an ordinary bass riff, the sort of thing any player might idly toy around with— and elaborate it into whole gorgeous workout, complete with really stunning guitar filigrees and ominous word-chewing from Paternoster.

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Bagged. Benjamin McConnell.

Presidents Tellin’ Jokes. Barack Obama.

The Fellowship. BRKF$T CLUB.

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Savor. Natalie Royal.

“Malfunction.” Useless Eaters.

“Call Me Greyhound (Kap Slap Bootleg).” Swedish House Mafia vs. Carly Rae Jepsen.

Prepare


…for the return of the Hufflepuff.

The songs of your youth.

Correction: the songs of your youth that you weren't cool enough to know about.

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