So far, this is my song of the year. Weird, I know.
People look at an oilpainting and admire the use of brushstrokes to convey meaning. People look at a graffitti painting and admire the use of a drainpipe to gain access.
- Banksy, Banksy: Wall and Piece
“They exist without permission. They are hated, hunted, and persecuted. They live in quiet desperation amongst the filth. And yet they are capable of bringing entire civilisations to their knees.
If you are dirty, insignificant and unloved then rats are the ultimate role model.”
- Banksy, Banksy: Wall and Piece.
Mann’s vision is compelling and conflicted. His is a world of trendy clothes and music and buildings which, whether old and decrepit or shiny and new, never fail to be beautiful and are often located on beachfront property, the better to contrast his characters’ in-the-moment struggle to survive and acquire against nature’s indifference to their wants. His 30-year filmography, examined here and in the next four chapters of this series, is a hall of mirrors, reflecting the artist’s past and future back on themselves. Mann’s world shows men and women struggling to be captains of their own fate, even as institutions, businesses, and national governments—and their own devoted loved ones—define their striving as selfishness or push for a piece of their action. It’s a world of doppelgängers, doubles, and perverted reflections. It’s articulated through an arresting style that fuses B-movie schlock with an inner-directedness that channels Michelangelo Antonioni, Akira Kurosawa, and Yasujiro Ozu. It’s a cinema of Zen pulp. Mann is its master.
The music in this scene is called “La Resa de Conti” and it’s by Ennio Morricone. Leone knew what the hell he was doing.
So… yeah. The pantheon series is done @ 365, about halfway through the year like I had hoped. So why did I do it? Spite. The deal is I was getting very sick of watching tumblr turn into an echo chamber of the same five pictures each day, and thinking about how no one gave a shit. I knew I could do better. Even the porn on tumblr is ugly. The only rare exceptions that ever felt like they were being assembled by someone who cared, those were the ones that held strict to a theme or even better were assembled by people with a visual eye. So I got myself a theme and started dumping a few hundred photos into a folder (most of which never made the list). The funniest thing is that once I got into a decent clip, every day I’d get hits from random tumblrs reblogging my anti-tumblr series.
Selecting the list – made on the fly from the folder, with the central idea being it’s someone I admire or respect or at the very least turns me on (or in the case of Bowie all three). For the images themselves – I was going for a definitive image of the person without trying to be obvious or “iconic”. If at all possible, I wanted a picture of that person doing whatever they are great at. Barring that, a weird outtake looking press photo or screencap, if it’s an actor then something they’re not famous for. And as often as possible more than one awesome person in the shot. But to boil it down – avoiding the easy way.
Breakdowns.
- Iconoclast – 099, 090, 075, 233, 107, 089, 044, 191, 002, 200, 144, 088, 023, 007, 162, 072, 102, 159
- Music – 005, 006, 009, 015, 021, 031, 033, 038, 043, 047, 048, 050, 053, 057, 060, 061, 062, 065, 070, 073, 075, 076, 080, 081, 085, 086, 090, 093, 097, 100, 102, 107, 111, 113, 116, 123, 125, 130, 135, 136, 138, 141, 150, 151, 155, 156, 158, 160, 165, 170, 171, 173, 175, 181, 182, 189, 190, 192, 196, 202, 212, 216, 219, 220, 222, 224, 227, 228, 242, 243, 245, 258, 261, 267, 273, 278, 282, 286, 291, 293, 295, 299, 303, 3o4, 306, 315, 321, 325, 331, 332, 339, 342, 360, 362
- Comics – 016, 017, 023, 035, 039, 052, 055, 067, 101, 121, 128, 153, 166, 177, 191, 197, 200, 208, 211, 218, 223, 226, 240, 246, 253, 257, 281, 294, 307, 313, 318, 322, 330, 336, 344, 347, 350, 364
- Writing – 001, 002, 004, 018, 020, 034, 055, 056, 059,072, 077, 083, 088, 091, 096, 099, 108, 129, 134, 142, 143, 162, 172, 177, 195, 200, 208, 209, 214, 215, 223, 225, 238, 240, 246, 256, 275, 288, 294, 296, 297, 312, 334, 351
- Art – 007, 008, 012, 016, 017, 023, 028, 030, 035, 039, 055, 067, 101, 115, 120, 121, 128, 153, 191, 197, 200, 208, 211, 218, 226, 240, 249, 253, 257, 260, 270, 281, 294, 300, 307, 313, 318, 322, 330, 344, 350, 364
- Direction – 004, 017, 025, 032, 036, 056, 059, 064, 072, 079, 094, 095, 099, 105, 108, 110, 114, 119, 126, 129, 131, 132, 136, 143, 146, 154, 159, 162, 168, 174, 186, 193, 195, 201, 203, 205, 213, 215, 217, 229, 233, 238, 242, 264, 274, 275, 297, 310, 312, 324, 329, 338
- Acting – 003, 011, 013, 014, 019, 022, 024, 027, 029, 044, 049, 051, 054, 058, 063, 074, 082, 084, 089, 098, 104, 106, 109, 112, 117, 140, 145, 157, 163, 169, 176, 180, 183, 184, 186, 194, 207, 213, 229, 230, 232, 236, 237, 244, 263, 265, 266, 268, 269, 277, 279, 280, 283, 285, 290, 292, 298, 301, 302, 308, 309, 314, 317, 323, 326, 331, 333, 335, 337, 340, 341, 345, 348, 349, 354, 355, 356, 358, 365
- Funny – oo1, 003, 016, 026, 040, 059, 068, 074, 077, 083, 087, 089, 096, 104, 113, 118, 123, 127, 133, 134, 146, 147, 161, 163, 178, 179, 187, 188, 192, 198, 199, 215, 221, 231, 235, 239, 241, 247, 248, 251, 254, 255, 262, 269, 276, 279, 284, 290, 297, 305, 316, 320, 327, 328, 334, 335, 346, 351, 356
- Sex – 003, 011, 015, 024, 027, 054, 061, 063, 068, 069, 073, 082, 096, 106, 109, 116, 117, 138, 140, 144, 149, 170, 180, 190, 194, 204, 210, 245, 250, 252, 266, 274, 283, 311, 325, 333, 353, 357
Analysis
So what does my scrapbook say about me? Yes it is a scrapbook. A cool one, but the only thing seperating this and glitter glue and precious moments stickies is the flat picture/name/white background setup I got going. Music apparently dominates everything else in my life, like you needed to be told that. I place reclusive perfectionists who hold no allegiances to a genre or style, respect nothing, have their own way of working, and are probably into their own shit way too much. Overkill, as always, is something I love. 90s East Coast Rap. Guitar bands. World-building through visual not narrative means. Cartoonier or more stlyized art that’s not hamstrung by it. Storytellers over everything. Idiosyncratic singers, great singers. Acknowledged masters. Space rock. Anyone who worked with Brian Eno in the 70s and early 80s. 70s soul. Sample-based musicians. Anger. Character actors from the 70s. Character actors period. Hardasses. Detective shows. Impenetrable cool. Comedy teams that you could listen to argue for days. Commitment to being an unlikeable motherfucker. Brutal, hateful honesty. Writers who understand action. Writers who are actually funny. Science Fiction. Music video directors. Brunettes. Oh and to rob Jared of his stock comment, yes I like asses.
Yeah, I’m done. The master list is here. Feel free to mock me in the comments.
I’M FINISHED.
BRENDAN MCCARTHY.
OMAR.
BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE.
SAVINI.
LL COOL J.
GENNEDY TARTAKOVSKY.
BRUCE WILLIS.
KARI BYRON.
ALEC BALDWIN.
Tommy Lee Jones Suntory commercials. In character as an alien, dressed as Tommy Lee Jones. Oh fuck.
Watch the rest here (THERES 16 OF THEM), found via William Gibson’s twitter.
RUTGER HAUER.
RYAN O’NEAL.
MARGOT TENENBAUM.
The character, not the actress.
WELLES.
PRYOR, CARLIN.
ADAM HUGHES.
HOSKINS.
Found via Jared Lewis
DUVALL.
DAVE GIBBONS.
PATTON OSWALT.
ALAN ARKIN.
BACHALO.
BOURDAIN.
- This week’s review of the Adult Swim Mighty Boosh reviews is up, but who gives a fuck because Tucker writes about Red Riding. Like, astoundingly well.
- Jog writes about pulp serials, Batman, and everything else @ comixology. I’d love for him to do one of these about the 1963 remake of Judex.
- Warren Ellis continues to write about Kirby, Kubrick, Ennis, the evil of Stan Lee, and comics in general. The Do Anything column is so far the only reason that Bleeding Cool exists.
- New 4cast featuring Jeff Lester.
- Jess Nevins on Michael Jackson as Gothic figure.
- Jody Hill interview @ /Film.
- Dispatches from Public Enemies pt.3. READ IT.
THE TWO JOHNS.
This picture is creepy.
JOHN HURT.
FAVORITE ALBUMS OF THE DECADE ‘00-’09
Death From Above 1979 – You’re A Woman, I’m a Machine
“Start your own fucking band, asshole.” – Sebastien Granger.
01. Turn It Out
In 20 years, DFA79 are going to be a band mentioned in hallowed tones. Weird, anachronistic sound, minimal musicality, one album, a couple EPs, a shitload of remixes, a live show that’s already legendary, and a sudden break-up before anyone can claim them as their favorite band or be disappointed when they turn out to be something different. They are in effect the 2000-era Mission of Burma. In interviews, the two members of the band Sebastien Grainger and Jesse Keeler came off as hipster fuckheads. They even looked like jackasses until Grainger shaved his head. Their lyrics could conceivably be considered “emo”, at least in the jilted-hate side of it. They kind of got lumped into the dance-punk thing inexplicably. This is a band I have all rights to hate on principle – I mean I hate Franz Ferdinand because I saw a picture of them before I heard their music so why not these guys? Actually, I didn’t really like these guys on principle to begin with. The thing is they sound like this:
Drums. Guy yelping like a maniac. Bass played like a surf guitar. This band is here to beat you into submission. The sad thing is that no matter how I wish they’ll be remembered like Mission of Burma, the truth is they’re going to go down as an asterisk t0 CSS’s greatest single. They don’t matter at all, no matter how great they are, almost no one gave a shit.
… Just like Mission of Burma.
02. Romantic Rights
“Romantic Rights” spends almost a minute just revving you up, chunky out of tune bass noise until the riff and vocals come in, and the lyrics are mostly bullshit. The pre-chorus “I don’t need/ you I want you” is the album in a micro. This is jilted, fuck you music about hating your girl for breaking up with you. Which would be uninteresting, even a negative, if it weren’t two guys composing surf rock songs with dance/electronic structures. This isn’t built like a rock song, the build in and layering of percussion, the lack of any real chorus, the way he’s screaming at the end – this is a rock band that has no interest in rock music.
03. Going Steady
“Going steady” is interesting that for all it’s hammering accuracy, it’s about obscuring the lyrics as much as possible. Keeler’s bass tops it at every turn, every single line is eclipsed. You have to strain to make out what he’s saying, until the final approach. When he finally repeats the lines full blast, it’s oedipal weirdness about never hurting his mother…
04. Go Home, Get Down
Lyrically, more jilted bullshit. Musically, just as interesting. Grainger wants to fuck, but he’s so wrapped up in his pervious relationship he’s ruining it. The song sounds like it wants to punch him until he stops talking. He does too.
Relationship-as-giallo – this is the kind of metaphor that would be ridiculous if Grainger didn’t sound like he was in anguish. And this is the one song where his voice is the throughline – the bass is intentionally choppy, once again building into a riff at the chorus where it finally locks with the drums. Here is maybe the best example of DFA doing it, going from almost a sound effect to replacing the vocals on the bridge – this is disco. The lyrics are problematic if you get bothered by misogyny but the argument could be made that this isn’t misogyny so much as excising those thoughts “You’re a woman, we both know it’s true but the things I have done to you” isn’t exactly feminist, but it’s way too on the nose for it not to be coming from someone with an emotional intelligence to know how to phrase it that way.This is a breakup album the way that Grinderman is a breakup album. The slo-mo electric piano outro is the most interesting moment on the entire record. It shows that this band could do the complete opposite and has decided to hone in on one style – it’s the Iggy Pop theory – smart people doing dumb shit equals art.
“1979 is the year of my birth, 1979 is the year of Off the Wall, 1979 is the year of Pleasure Principle, 1979 is the last year of the last cool decade, 1979 is scratched into my arm, 1979 is scratched into my arm, 1979 is scratched into my fucking arm.” - Sebastian Grainger
“Black History Month” reiterates that again, by actually being a beautiful song. Maybe the only time on the record that Grainger’s hurt seems like he’s not lashing out in anger. “Black History Month” because of Valentines Day, duh. The lyrics are crap on the surface – but this song is about divorce, your life falling apart the same time your friends is. The bass/drums/wail/occasional keyboard riff under everything at the bridge setup is subverted – the drums here do more than pound nails, they actually keep a mid-tempo without ruining the ballad-esque nature of the song. The bass doesn’t clank in and out of the track until the chorus and then go to Dick Dale heaven, it throbs and dances with the drums. Grainger doesn’t mutter or scream, he actually sings. There’s actually harmonies with either Keeler or an overdub or himself (thats another thing – it’s a very live sounding record except on this song). The final flare-up disappears into Steve Reich-style minimalist tones, something that no one in their right mind would expect from the 5 songs that precede and the 5 songs that follow it. “Black History Month” holds everything in contrast, without it the record means nothing.
07. Little Girl
“Little Girl” is plastic soul played by these guys if they’d never heard any plastic soul. Keeler’s bass-slide here is the best thing he does on the record. Grainger singing about fucking his brothers girl? His brothers daughter? Sickly enough he wants this more than anything on the record and he goes from desperate to sexual to James Brown impression and back in the span of the chorus. What the fuck?
08. Cold War
Fuck you bitch, you knew this was coming! This is probably the only legitimate break-up song on the record, which is probably why the attack is the fiercest. The stuttering bass riff at the end is a nice touch too.
09. You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine
There is no moving on. That’s what’s so fucked up about this album, it’s that this is a bitter guy just consuming himself with his breakup until it becomes toxic. Like, I dunno, Limp Bizkit but intentional. Is it any wonder that these two guys hated each other playing this shit every night? The record tries to blind you from the fact that it’s about as optimistic as the Mountain Goats at their darkest by going 60MPH at your head but once you get this far in it’s suffocating. This is a bad scene, this is an album for masochists. It’s kind of cruel that it sounds so good.
10. Pull Out
And here’s why she broke up with him. It’s like Memento. LET YOUR SPIRIT FREE GIRL!!! Thats some shit Kenny Powers would say.
11. Sexy Results
Lets name our sex jam after a Simpsons reference. This isn’t sexy so much as it’s their idea of sexy. Going through the motions, even kind of going into bad NIN remix territory, and then the cowbell – this is sex going wrong. This is fucking your coworker and seeing them the next morning hungover. Almost 6 minutes long, it’s the longest track on the album, but dude… almost 6 minutes? That weedly little moog solo? That’s not gonna get you laid, there guys. You can dance all you want.
PACINO.
DAFT PUNK.
LARS VON TRIER.
Pretty much just for the Kingdom.
BRONSON.
SHIROW.
KEVIN KLINE.
PARKER AND STONE.
This is the first song by the Dirty Projectors that I’ve ever listened to – while it’s quite good it’s also the product of a band who must listen to From the Choirgirl Hotel on a constant loop all day and every day. Catchy, though.
more about "Dirty Projectors – Stillness is the Move", posted with vodpod
Ignatiy Vishnevetsky :
It’s a question of video’s way of capturing background movement, of the way leaves fluttering in the background can overtake the image. “What’s missing from movies nowadays is the beauty of the moving wind in the trees,” D.W. Griffith said four years before his death. Griffith, who gave us the monumental image, wished for a day when the elements of an image could subvert its composition. For waves that could look so strong that they could overtake a figure framed against the ocean. 35mm, always forgiving to the human element, gave us a way to master the world. The figure against a landscape was a figure first and a landscape second. HD—especially Mann’s beloved CineAlta camera, and especially at night—is harder to control. It’s as like we’ve razed a forest to build a city and now find trees growing on every corner.
from part 2 of his set visit report from Mann’s Public Enemies. Jesus fuck that’s good writing.
SCARLETT JOHANSSON.
Diminishing returns notwithstanding.
BAM.
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