For one-night only (well, two for Houstonians. River Oaks Theater is showing the film again next Wednesday), dance rock fans across the country were able to get an insider's perspective of the end of an era; an era full of meticulousness, infectiousness, and "pretentiousness" created by James Murphy and company, better know as LCD Soundsystem. Brought to life in 2001, LCD has been bringing originality to the indie music scene and creating throbbing dance floors all over the globe. On April 2, 2011, the band performed it's very last live show to a sold-out, Madison Square Garden audience. High energy matched with equally high emotion, this documentary gets your foot tapping with a possible tear in your eye.
I really didn't know what to expect last night. I've seen so many music documentaries and live concert films (no, not including Katy Perry's. I might be gay but I do have some good taste. Well, until I've had a few drinks). Some focus more on the live performance and sprinkle in short behind-the-scenes bits. Although these serve a purpose, when it comes certain bands, you want to gain more of a sense of depth. Luckily, Shut Up and Play the Hits did just that. Witnessing the vulnerability of Murphy and his bandmates was intoxicating and at the same time, heartfelt.
The opening scene features Murphy with his adorable French bulldog the morning after the concert. I can't lie, that little pup stole the show a couple times. Shortly after, we are taken back in time, approximately one week prior to April 2nd, with an interview of Murphy by Chuck Klosterman (author Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, etc.). Much of the film's narration centers around this interview. Having read a few of Klosterman's books, I was not at all surprised by his questions. At times he seemed nervous as he interviewed Murphy. I'd be nervous too if I basically implied that one of this generation's greats is arrogant and pretentious. The funny thing is, Murphy didn't really deny it. My only complaint is that at times, Klosterman felt the need to interject his opinions and theories while Murphy truly tried to give a heartfelt window into his thoughts. Klosterman is about as arrogant as the come, so it was difficult to take him seriously sometimes. The interview ends with the blunt yet appropriate question for any band going into retirement: "What do you believe is your greatest failure?" The obvious answer: "possibly" retiring the band. We all know that public figures are most often remembered for their one failure or mistake. Murphy knows this and it shows on film. It seemed as if he was having "buyer's remorse". He is obviously proud and content with what he has done for our generation. He stayed true to himself and his craft. His reasons for wanting to end it were very valid. Everyone wants to have a life outside of their art, career, etc., but at the same time, giving up something you (and millions of others) love so dearly solely for personal reasons can make you question those intentions.
As the film progresses, you can almost sense the end is approaching. Many tears are shed by Murphy and his bandmates during the concert and behind-the-scenes. Before you hear the piano chords for "New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" (the final song), Murphy is shown in a storage unit, surrounded by the equipment his band has accumulated over the years. Moments later you find Murphy breaking down, and you can't help but get choked-up by it all. When his manager asks him how he feels the next day, he simple response is, "Strangely normal."
Now let's get to the concert footage: it is fantastic. The sound quality and visuals are impeccable. For those of you who never had the chance to see LCD Soundsystem in concert, you are in for a treat. I'm hoping they release a DVD that solely features the concert. There are so many other songs I wanted to see and hear. Some of the audience footage is thoroughly entertaining and heartbreaking as well. Just wait until the show ends and the house lights come on. You will see what I'm talking about.
Although its a music documentary, it allows for plenty of personal introspection. My friend and I had a couple beers at Poison Girl afterwards, which turned into an hour long chat about what we want out of life. Shit got real.
If this film is showing again in your city, buy your ticket now. You won't regret it. When the DVD is released, purchase that too. Also, when LCD Soundsystem decides to go on their inevitable reunion tour, make sure you buy tickets for that as well.
To say I'm "tatted up" is both an understatement and quite the douchebag of a catchphrase. Nonetheless, I got my first taste of permanent skin ink last Thursday afternoon. My desire to break into the whole tattoo realm has been simmering for at least five years now. After I got over my piercing phase (I put a whopping two holes into my body and both of them were on my ear), I started to give tattoos a thought. I've heard more stories (good and bad) about tattoo experiences than I can even remember. I also think I know more people with tattoos than without, so it was only a matter of time before I got my own.
With all that I have dealt with in my personal life over the past two years, I am a full believer in "carpe diem". If I've been considering a tattoo for as long as I have now, you know what? Fuck it...time to get some shit done. Anyways, after you tell people you're going to do something like this...you can't really back out of it.
Although I want a rather large piece on my left arm, I decided to get a smaller one to break the ice. Scissor Sisters (<3 Jake Shears) is one of my favorite bands, and their logo is so simple yet so amazing. I've been a fan for quite sometime, and I appreciate not only their music but their overall aura and personality. There's just this "I don't give a fuck" attitude that is so appealing to me. They wear what they want, write the music they want, say what they want, etc. Although I'm not the most outlandish and outspoken gay in the world, I'm proud of who I am and what I stand for. And let's be real, yes tattoos last forever, but I'll be a homo from now until the day I die. Sorry Michele Bachmann.
As the world scoffs at America's problem with obesity, we still continue to eat at restaurants that add a little (or a lot) more cushion to our asses, thighs, and stomachs. It also contributes to the not-so-funny side effects of diabetes, heart disease, and death. I would be kidding myself if I said I didn't eat at these establishments more than I should. Otherwise, I wouldn't be truly "American". In addition to slowly clogging my arteries with greasy, processed foods, I recently found out you can also feed your ego (did you like that play on words? I'm so witty).
If you've ever eaten at a Chili's (honestly, who hasn't), you know what its environment usually consists of: the distant smell and sound of oil popping in the fryer, the clinking of glasses filled with half your daily value of sugar, the chatter of waiters/hosts working to get through their shifts, and a wide range of customers trying to pick their poisons. Possibly because of the red phallic symbol in the shape of a chili pepper, or the fact that our only other choice was Tex Mex, we ended up at Chili's front door for lunch. My last Chili's experience was very lackluster due to the douche factor of our asshole of waiter. Nonetheless, I decided to give them another chance.
We were greeted by our twink of a host. I giggled to myself because 1) I've seen him come into my Urban Outifitters store, and 2) I'm pretty sure he had the same cologne on as my boyfriend. After we were immediately seated, our waitress for the afternoon, Tangela, gave us a warm Chili's welcome. I love older black waitresses who have a "Big Mama" complex about them. Soon after, she proceeded to graciously compliment me on my hat, exclaiming how cute and adorable I am. Of course, my boyfriend responded with..."Isn't that my hat?" Nope, it is indeed not. Don't be jealous, gurl. Little did he know, I was about to make my gay mark on Chili's forever. After carefully considering our drink and food orders, Tangela glided to the kitchen. Finally, our margaritas (it was noon, so put away those judging eyes) were brought out as if it was our birthdays. Tangela and our twink of a host shook our shakers with the excitement of proud parenta. Normally, you are given your own shaker to pour, but not me. The twink felt the need create my setup and reach across to pour it for me. From the look on Tangela's and my boyfriend's faces, this was not normal. I was being treated like a celebrity in Chili's standards, and who was I to complain. Everyone needs a confidence boost here and there.
When our food was being brought by the fake enthusiastic girl serving the table next to us, who's order was put in wrong? Mine. This created a chain of events including apologies from what seemed like the entire restaurant staff. I'm a pretty patient person, but since I was the celebrity for the day, this warranted A-list treatment. I did not receive any sort of comp on my meal, so obviously I wasn't that A-list, or maybe I was just being reminded that we were at a suburban Chili's, not a 5-star downtown bistro. At this point, my tequila buzz is kicking in, so I'm milking this shit like a pregnant cow. After my correct meal was brought out sans ranch dipping sauce, Tangela continued to rave about my cuteness regardless of my boyfriend's dismay. I openly accepted these comments. The kicker was when she stated, "And someone else thinks your cute as well." Who else would she be talking about except our twink of a host? I couldn't help but laugh, even when my other half sarcastically deemed him as my "new boyfriend."
All-in-all, I am the new power gay of the Chili's Restaurant corporation. It doesn't matter if it is only in my head or not, but it's true nonetheless. Power gays also get overcharged for their meals. I guess that comes with the territory.
Although a simple concept on paper, the Unhate campaign presents one of the most complicated issues our society suffers from everyday: hatred. This beautiful short film may only last a mere minute and eight seconds, but the powerful message it portrays makes quite the impression (at least for me). The love a person shares with another is one of the most priceless gifts that anyone can receive. There isn't a single person in this world who wouldn't agree with that statement. I feel that it's in our human nature to strive to feel loved and cared for. What's ironic is that the idea of love can bring about just as much hate. I will never understand why groups want to bring someone down solely for the person they love. It boggles mind that this is still an issue in 2011. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but until there is a change, we have to keep flipping that record over. With the constant news stories of suicides, beatings, and murders constantly broadcasting on our televisions and computers, I can't help but feel sick to my stomach. Take this as food for thought: how many people will be more put off by the images of love and affection than by the violence and brutality? Probably more than you'd care to imagine. That notion alone can explain why this film was produced.
Love is such a strong word. With all the negativity that exists among the human race, "love" is almost too much to ask of some people. As awful as that sounds, I stand behind that statement 100%. Reversing the hatred is a much more realistic way to view the journey towards a more peaceful world.
Check out five remixes of "Midnight City" off of M83's latest album, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. Since rainy days are few and far between down here in Houston, I've had M83 on shuffle all afternoon while I read The Help. Oh, and judge all you want....but I've also had the Fireplace app crackling in the background on my Macbook. I'm being that hipster.
P.S. Be sure to see M83 in concert when they stop in Houston at Warehouse Live on their Fall 2011 tour.
Although there is certain light-hearted, humorous air surrounding this new film, 50/50 portrays a scarily realistic account of what cancer patients of all ages have to deal with everyday. You can't help but follow in love with Joseph Gordon Levett's character "Adam". A young, successful radio journalist of only 27 years-old feels on the top of the world with his best friend and girlfriend by his side. What seemed to be just a simple backache turned out to be a very rare malignant tumor of the spine, and the trials and tribulations begin almost immediately. Like most Generation X and Y'ers, we take great pride in our independence. Adam is no different. Despite his initial plea for minimal help from his mother (who is also taking care of a husband suffering from Alzheimer's Disease), through many therapy sessions with an inexperienced Ph.d student, he realizes that he was kind of being an asshole. As the layers of denial and anger start to peel, your genuine hope for this character grows exponentially larger.
For anyone that has dealt with cancer, whether personally or through a family member, 50/50 hits almost too close to home (think Terms of Endearment). Having recently witnessed the detrimental effects of this awful disease on a close family member myself, it was almost as if I was reliving the entire process again. The chemotherapy and the subsequent sickness, sitting in hospital waiting rooms for hours, the physical and mental deterioration....I could go on, trust me. If it weren't for the consistent humor thanks to Gordon-Levett and Seth Rogen, this movie would have probably been too much for me to handle. At the same time, it's refreshing and almost therapeutic to see that no one is ever alone when dealing with this illness.
Besides the most obvious theme of the movie, others include betrayal, family, courage, friendships, loyalty, and in general, optimism. No matter who you are, there is something you can relate to in 50/50. It definitely gives you plenty to ponder and makes you want to hug a loved one.
On a side note, the soundtrack is quite spot on, featuring a number of singles that the indie community is sure to appreciate.
