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Oddball celebrity impersonators, skydiving BMX nuns, proof that Werner Herzog is one of the funniest dudes alive: Mister Lonely marks the welcome return of former wunderkid-now-plain-wonderdude Harmony Korine. J Spaceman teams up with the Sun City Girls for much of the flawless soundtrack and elsewhere you'll find Diego Luna moonwalking to Spank Rock in an old people's home and Red Riding Hood singing along to John Jacob Niles's heartbreaking 1956 folk ballad.
Record companies seem to have decided that to sell more pop records they need to flood the internets with hipster remixes. And look, we’ve played right into their hands! Curses.
Todd Hanyes's bitty, experimental Bob Dylan anti-biopic is as enigmatic and frustrating as the man himself. His disciples will love the inch-thick layer of in-jokes and you've probably heard that Cate Blanchett wins the Bob-a-like contest, but it's Charlotte Gainsbourg's heartbroken turn as Famous Dylan's wronged wife that provides the emotional core. Weird that a film about an apparent misogynist would be held together by women.
When they're not putting out James Jarvis t-shirts and Will Sweeney prints of fighter pilot hotdogsAlakazam are the design force behind Erol Alkan's Phantasy Sound. We're looking forward to what they come up with for the label's second release, the debut single from Primary 1. A kind soul passed us these demos and they are stellar. Oakey-doke electrofunk and an anxious falsetto. Like Calvin Harris if he wrote songs instead of choruses. He's in the studio with Epworth and Alkan RIGHT NOW and you can catch him live at Durrr over Christmas.
The last time we cried in the cinema Macaulay Culkin had just been stung to death by killer bees (so sad!). Then last Sunday we watched The Diving Bell And The Butterfly. Julian Schnabel 's dazzlingly impressionistic adaptation of Jean-Dominique Bauby's book had us (us! with our ice-cold hearts!) bawling in the isles. We walked out with snotty noses, humbled by the indomitability of the human spirit. It didn't last long and we're back to hating everything now, but for a while there we felt a little weird.
What would Klaxons sound like if they were French? A bit boring if the latest Justice remix is anything to go by. What would Klaxons sound like if they were French Canadian? A bit like We Are Wolves and they rule. Conclusions: Klaxons should probably not change their nationality and Canadian bands should always pick a lupine name as it virtually guarantees awesomeness.
David Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises is disappointing because it’s the least Cronenbergian film he’s ever made. It’s routine. But Viggo Mortensen is awesome and spends his time playing with worry beads made in a prison from melted-down lighters, apparently given to him while he researched his role with the Moscow Mafia. Yeah, right.
Todosantos are the Hispanic All Saints, except they're not that's just what their name means. They're actually dayglo Venezuelan lunatics camping out in Brooklyn. If you stare at this video long enough you'll see a dancing 3D penguin. That or you'll have a fit. We had no idea who these people were until Cousin Cole sent us his jacking new acid-disco remix yesterday. Thanks Cole! You made us go blind!
While the light-haired (but dark-hearted) half of Pinglewood lives it up in Singapore the rest of us are spending our days in gloomy rooms, geeking out with the daylight-dodging citizens of cineland. The London Film Festival starts today so our usual stuff will be punctuated by ill-informed rubbish about films we don’t understand. You lucky, lucky people.
We once had a degenerate online conversation that ended with us smashing our hard-drive, skipping town and burning our fingerprints off with acid.* WarpwizJimmy Edgar and Laura Clarke have turned their cryptic, carnal chats into a dark and dirty electro-funk record. Clearly we need to step up our banter game.
These are the best of times. The early days of a new (/old) sound, when it still has three or four different names. Bassline, niche, 4x4 or plain old speed garage-- whatever you want to call this, it's big (again). T2 leads the charge.
Tonight The Whitest Boy Alive play the Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen. We're going to seize this as an opportunity to promote racial harmony throughout the internets by pairing them up with the uber-buzzedBlack Kids. See we had a dream too, Dr. King. But ours involved the cast of High School Musical and some yoghurt.
Today's other posts both end with the word 'Night', so this one does too. Think of it as a theme. Another theme for today (besides hangovers and the word 'Night') is awesome cover versions. Three things we've learnt today:
Yesterday we saw Metronomy and Foals at the Scala. It was a great show, but today we are feeling ever so weary. Expect lots of short, lazy posts, many of which won't make sense.
Here's a new cartoon video from FOPs Ra Ra Riot. It's colourful, cute and more than a little sinister— especially the inter-band cannibalism at the end.
If you gave blood in the 1950s the NHS would give you a bottle of Guinness to fortify you post-donation. They don’t do that anymore. No booze for blood = free blood. And here are Free Blood.
A tip of the titfer to Cousin Cole and Pocketknife for this sweet little video promo for their forthcoming album, Tambourine Dream. As well as our favourite doomed sisters, it features tastes of the duo's graceful remixes of Iron & Wine, Nico, Panda Bear and The Boss. Flagrant Fowl is like a less-proggy Beyond The Wizard's Sleeve and everything we've heard from them is gold. Tambourine Dream should be out by the end of October.