hipster

Prospect Park West

admin — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:07:00 +0000

Brooklyn’s famously high-end and yuppie Park Slope neighborhood is nearly a character itself in Amy Sohn’s Prospect Park West. The book follows the lives of four women living in the neighborhood. There is Melora Leigh, a troubled actress, who joins the neighborhood co-op for good PR. Her time there ties her to Karen Shapiro, an overly protective mother and social climber desperate for a new apartment in the best school district. Lizzie O’Donnell is a “former lesbian” living with her husband and child, but still drawn to women. Her attention focuses on Rebecca Rose, another mom, who hasn’t been touched by her husband in the year and a half since she gave birth.

The book seems aimed at subtly making fun and illuminating the foibles of stereotypical yuppie mothers as well as the new hipster mother. It’s like a filled out gossip column or blog on the lives of overly privileged women. The struggles of being a mother are mentioned, but it is incidental to the women’s sex lives and neuroses. The stories weave together fairly well, though the plot line that connects Karen and Melora seems overly fanciful. At times, I found myself forgetting the connections between the characters and having to flip back to figure out who was being discussed.

Occasionally throughout the text are small chapters written in italics and from the perspective of a few of the male characters in the book. They don’t seem to add much to the book, as they don’t flesh out the male characters enough.

The book ends a bit anti-climactically. I didn’t feel let-down, but more "oh, now it’s done." I suppose Prospect Park West is simply giving a snapshot (in this case a 400 page snapshot) of the women’s lives. There is no grand climax in the action, because the women’s lives simply carry on, much like in real life.

For fans of chick lit and lighter fare, pick this book up. Otherwise, you can give it a miss.

Written by: Kristin Conard, November 16th 2009

Tegan and Sara (10/9/2008)

admin — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 23:49:00 +0000

Riveria Theatre

Chicago, Illinois

It must be nice to be in a band with your twin sister. Shared skinny jeans, skinny genes, and hipster hair products make costuming a breeze, and a sound-alike bandmate eliminates the technical hassle of overdubbing vocals. Plus, you know the other person so well that you can make fun of them on stage, as Canadian duo Tegan and Sara demonstrated at Chicago’s Riveria Theatre.

“I forgot what a shithole this place is,” my 'plus one', better known as Grace Yip from Grace the Spot, lovingly remarked upon our arrival. The Riv really is the best of all possible places to see a rock show. A crumbling tribute to the uptown neighborhood’s past affluence, seedy recent past, and current gentrification projects, the cavernous building resembles a mix between a subway station, an airplane hangar, and nightmare mix of Phantom of the Opera and that weird pseudo-play in Interview with the Vampire, complete with chandeliers and a not-so-recent green, black, and purple paint job.

Within minutes of taking the stage, the sisters Quin brought up the house lights and asked the youngsters on the floor not to crush so desperately toward the stage because it was making the folks up front nervous. After a few songs, Tegan begins to tell a story about her old apartment, the rotten potatoes that drove her from it, and the song that this experience inspired, but was interrupted by screeching from the audience. Her sister rushed to her defense: “Let me ask you seriously. Did you consume meth or PCP before this show? Did you drink a Monster or Redbull energy drink? Or is it Tegan’s haircut?”

At first I appreciated the banter. Those darn kids are annoying, I thought, glowering from the crotchety seats upstairs. They cheered only at the popular songs and at points seemingly unrelated to what was happening on stage. I enjoy it when silly hipsters get mocked, but so do they - hence the problem of the Tegan and Sara concert.

While cruising the blogosphere for a set list, I found that someone on a similar quest had been chastised by one of her peers who wrote, “No one’s going to be looking at you. They’re all there to see Tegan and Sara.” Right. Looking at them. Not listening to them. It seemed like a scene devoid of any real interest in the music. After reading more comments from this page, it seemed clear from the conversation that the music is a secondary consideration for both fans and haters. Admittedly, I was only there because the tickets were free, but even many of the fans were just there to see and be seen, causing Tegan and Sara to emphasize their scrutiny of audience behavior.

I finally did find a set list for one of their New York shows and some great, probably illegal pictures that closely resembled the ones I saw on Brooklyn Vegan. Most of the songs played early on were from The Con while the older, more well-known songs were played later in the evening. “Burn Your Life Down” really resonated with me that night, but I felt like no one else was digging it. The audience cheered wildly for “Walking with a Ghost,” as well as Rhianna’s “Umbrella,” and by the end of the encore, “Back in Your Head,” most of the audience was on its feet and singing along.

I know that many bands have trouble getting concert-goers to be as excited about their new work as they are about well-worn favorites, but this audience was more excited about the performers than any of the music they produced. They cheered more loudly for the explanation of “Love-type Thing” (the duo’s only love song because "they have difficulty writing about happy things") than for any of the songs themselves. Granted, Tegan and Sara are awesome people. They schooled the audience on the difference between Sarah’s haircut and a mullet, and exhorted us to vote the direction of that haircut (she parts to the left). And I'll admit that I was caught up in it too, almost forgetting to write about how the silly girl behind me who thought it would be “like, so awesome” to be invited along on the tour bus. But at one point, even Tegan asked, “Can we put the house lights down and be a rock show instead of a comedy team?”

I liked Tegan and Sara's music; it was pleasant, driving, and catchy. This rendering of their tunes was even well-executed. But it was hard to enjoy the show while being distracted by the constant interruptions, and I was not overly impressed by the performance. What did impress me, though, was one of the opening bands.

I missed much of Girl in a Coma because I was at Fiesta Mexicana grabbing a taco. When I walked up to the third floor and heard only guitars, I assumed some Godsmack-wannabe band was playing in the wrong club. Ow, I thought, LOUD. But then I heard that voice.

Seventeen-year-old Nina Diaz blew me away. A powerhouse mix that I compared that night to both Joss Stone and Kim Deal, her voice is described by the band as “at turns mesmerizing, hypnotic, playful, thunderous, and soft, and has been compared to artists as diverse as Bjork, Patsy Cline, and Morrissey.” Diaz’s vocals float over the noisy, feedback-laden instrumentals of this three woman band, which lists The Smiths, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and the Pixies among their influences. Tegan and Sara put on a solid, fan pleasing show, but Girl in a Coma is really the band to watch out for.

Written by: H. V. Cramond, October 16th 2008

Bubble and Scrape

admin — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 17:46:00 +0000

By Sebadoh

Sub Pop

A fifteen year reissue is much like a greatest hits collection: a triumph or moronic. Since Bubble and Scrape was mostly the former the first time around, Sebadoh’s 2008 re-release of their somewhat classic 1993 album is nothing to sneeze at. Hailed as the quirky, sometimes-inconsistent band’s arrival at the gates of indie rock heaven after a brief period in lo-fi purgatory, this album will either shake you up or leave you bored. If the latter is the case, you were never the intended audience.

Sebadoh is admittedly a weird, dysfunctional band, dubbed “the indie rock version of Rashomon” by Pitchfork. The alt-hipster bandmates bicker on stage, in the studio, and in the liner notes. But 2008’s Bubble and Scrape is a hot item if you want new live tracks and the standard reissue-included commentary. All of the commentary naturally differs in what each angsty male band member believes has gone down over time, but you’re into moody guys, right? At least they calm down long enough to make good music… mostly.

If you’re not into the man angst, Sebadoh may have long ago been cast aside as boring and strange, like the guy already drunk on his barstool at 5:45 p.m. who says, “Laaaadieeeeeees!” a few too many times. But Bubble and Scrape is worth picking up if you wish to revisit the masculine indie rock of the early '90s. It’s a massive album filled with tracks that have long blasted from old stereo speakers, marking what some call a test of time. While more than a few of my female contemporaries will probably pick the reissue of that year’s Liz Phair debut, Exile in Guyville, as a testament to musical time standing still, Sebadoh will arguably do something similar: take you back to a time when everything felt a little less overproduced, a little more beautifully complicated.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, September 23rd 2008

F Yeah Fest (8/30 - 8/31/2008)

admin — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 11:16:00 +0000

The Echo

Los Angeles, California

When Allen Ginsberg referenced “angel headed hipsters” in his lovely and infamous poem “Howl,” I swear he was magically looking into the future and describing attendees of the fifth annual F Yeah Fest. As a native Angeleno I grew up listening to punk rock and going to shows, but as an adult I’m finding it increasingly hard to brave the hordes of fashionably dressed, snarky music fans that attend the kinds of events I am unfortunately drawn to. Oh to be uncool and unhip in Los Angeles, it’s more painful than you think.

I showed up late; paid my twenty bucks; and braved the heat, the crowds, the chaotic setup and the exhausting lineup just to watch Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death play a fast little set in a teeny tiny little space being called the F Yeah Fest’s “Annex,” which was next to the festival's main stage inside my favorite rock venue: The Echo. It was, of course, thrilling, but I would expect nothing less of band leader Spencer Moody, formerly of Murder City Devils fame. Please forgive me dear readers, I left shortly after. Just as it chugged along before my arrival with sets by Mika Miko, The Mae Shi, and Best Fwends, the fest also continued on well after my departure and late into the night with sets by Preacher & the Knife, Rumpspringa, Matt & Kim, and Ladyhawk, among countless others.

F Yeah Fest is planned, put-together, and obsessed over by friends Sean Carlson, a twenty-three-year-old rock promoter who refuses to call himself a rock promoter, and punk rock legend Keith Morris, former leader of Black Flag and the Circle Jerks. The old show biz adage “the show must go on” had never rung more true than in the months leading up to the last two days of the fest. “When we first started the festival five years ago we wanted it to be a tour, but it wasn’t until this year that we put the original plan into action,” Carlson said.

The Fest was seemingly plagued from the get-go as the main financial backer pulled out at the last minute leaving Carlson with a tour to fund on his own, eventually putting him in over $50,000 debt. The show went on and it proved to be quite a circus; twenty-eight gigs in twenty-seven days across the country in an old school bus fueled by stinky, used vegetable oil that had to be searched for by Carlson and other members of the tour in the middle of the night after each show had wrapped up. “The tour was such a labor of love. I didn’t make any money of off it and financially speaking, it was barely worth it for many of the comedians and bands that performed. It was our first time on the road and it was definitely a trial and error process. I think it’s fair to say it left all of us physically and emotionally exhausted,” Carlson said.

The problems ensued for Carlson when he returned to Los Angeles after the tour in order to prepare for the last two days of the fest. Just days before the last shows, Carlson was beaten by security guards while promoting his festival with flyers outside of a Radiohead concert being held at the Hollywood Bowl. Carlson and his friend Phil Hoelting, video blogger and founder of videothing.com, were chased and roughed up by security guards after the guards realized that Hoelting had taped them using excessive force on a concert-goer. The security guards are said to have taken the video tape of the incident from Hoelting during the scrap. A police report has been filed and the case is ongoing.

Despite countless setbacks and ridiculous amounts of debt, Carlson intends on bringing the fest back for a sixth year, once again taking the show on the road. “You know, I love doing all the things I’m doing with music, but I’m twenty-three-years-old, and I’d like to be able to move out of my dad’s house one day. Maybe it’s time I got a real job. I’ve actually applied to be a crossing guard. I’ve applied six times, and I get shot down every time. I think I’m going to apply one more time and see what happens,” Carlson said. Something tells me the F Yeah Fest will be around for many years to come.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, September 10th 2008

Franchise Player 02

admin — Tue, 22 May 2007 02:15:00 +0000

By Joey Youngman

Franchise Player

Joey Youngman’s Franchise Player 02 is an excellent collection of dance songs marketed for sophisticated urban hipsters, who prefer their dance music steeped in brainy jazz music. The album’s short 16 songs blend into each other, creating a cohesive and nonstop celebration that rarely hits any emotional or sonic crescendos; instead the songs provide a consistent level of sound and beats that provide a fascinating, if an aloof listen.

The album opens with Mils Maeda’s “Lovely Daye” (Greenkeeps 205 Mix), and the song sets the tone of the album, with its dropped horn samples (popping in to accentuate a particular riff or an intricate sequence of beats). Raw Instinct “Grande de Follie” (DJ Gregory’s Main Club Mix) continues the midnight mix feel, adding a lounge feel with murmuring French voices (bringing Serge Gainsbourg’s sensual music to mind), and also including the sampled jazz voices, as well as electronically blanched voices that act like synths, competing with the electric pops and whistles.

Many of the songs recall early 1990’s house music with keyboard, organ or piano riffs springing in between the jungle beats. Jay-Jays & Miguel Mig’s “Rock the Spot” and Bobby and Klein’s “Café Filtre” both pull in elements of house music mainstays including the chiming organs and like-clockwork beats, and “Café Filtre” climaxes with an audience’s ovation. These songs and Bryan Jones’ “Vibe Like Tonight” aren’t terribly mainstream, but they do sound like what C&C Music Factory would’ve crafted if they had been edgier and more creative.

While the songs benefit from their aloofness, there is a much-needed shot of emotion from Jasper Street Co. “Lift Every Voice” (Mousse T. Uplifting Dub); just as the subtitle suggests the song is a moving number with wonderful soul wails by sweet-voiced gospel shouters. The song is a gospel hymn that takes the club to the church.

The other track that follows in the theme of humanity is Troydon’s “City Slummin’” (Johnny Fiasco’s Byrd Word Mix) which samples the Temptation’s classic “Cloud Nine.” The song is removed from its Motown context and cushioned in the squealing electronic setting, removing the original grittiness and replacing it with the glossy shiny technological sheen. The only reminder of the song’s socially conscious origins is the plaintive warbling, “I was born and raised in the slums of the city,” though this isn’t a call-to-arms because any of the emotional oomph is rubbed out by the abbreviation of the singing.

The rest of the album slinks back into sexy, slinky dance music for the nightclub. The atmosphere is chilly and detached and more acknowledgements are made to the influence of jazz in hip-hop and house, most notably in Alan Barratt’s My Kinda Music” (Inland Knights Remix) and the KenLou3 track “Moonshine.” Things take a brief return to the ebullient with Bryan Jones’ “Groove Foundation” that includes a back-up chorus of divas, before the album slithers into a close with more reserved material, capping off with Demon Ritchie’s “Only in New York” which boasts electronically-manipulated choruses that shimmer like sonic liquid. A stylish and arch collection that would be the perfect soundtrack for any nightclub, lounge or runway show.

Written by: Peter Piatkowski, May 21st 2007

Various Artists – Cochen en Boite

admin — Thu, 22 Mar 2007 19:03:00 +0000

By Various Artists

Princehouse Records

Mislead by the rather alluring title and expecting something on a par with St. Germain’s sleep-inducing tooting, I practically wept with the grief only an avid music fan can know when forth from my stereo spilled the stomach disrupting lyrical expulsion of Jillian Iva breathing, “I'm a love maker, soul shaker, body manipulator,” in a manner not far removed from Cher’s auto tune incident. I persevered through hallucinations of topless grinding, dax wax a go go clichés of all night gay bars, cringing at the cheesy lyric overload. The Kohl Heart: “so dot your ‘i’s and cross your ‘t’s ‘cause baby you’re just like a disease.” Hey Willpower: “I’m ok with playing truth or dare so long as you end up in your underwear” and on it went. Needless to say, I was rather disturbed.

Cochon en Boite is a selective showcase of bands signed to Cochen and Princehouse Records, a painfully artsy and hip crowd based in hilly San Francisco. However, the album isn’t a complete lost cause. Kicking off around track seven with ProCon’s 80s stomper, moving swiftly to Vanishing’s “Idol Eyes” for some serious pumping hypnotism and the brilliant Veronica Lipgloss and her Evil Eyes are like a parade of marching Kat Bjellands playing Diamanda Galas on ghetto blasters. Finally, the concluding track by Paradise Island, Jenny Hoyston’s (of Erase Errata fame) solo project, is without a doubt the saving grace of this record.

Written by: Emily Aoibheann McDonnell, March 22nd 2007