Blonde & Precise

March of the Balloon Animals

2009-05-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

Despite my love of hilarity and jovial nature, I don't much care for novelty. And it's hard not to peg Dengue Fever as a novelty act. Or at the very least, an artist so steeped in one particular aesthetic that they are indistinguishable from it. In their case, it was a long-winded schtick - California music nerds, hipped to the fuzzed out sounds of 1960s Cambodia by a series of much-loved 90's bootleg comps, form their own approximation, going so far as to recruit a local Cambodian singer. And for several albums they've done OK with that, drumming up some interest from record store clerks and the people who love them. I saw them once at GAMH, and they seemed like a band I would be more into if I was friends with them. Because if your friends formed a Cambodian fuzz band, that'd be pretty awesome. Doesn't mean I want to pay $18 to see someone else's friends do it.

Recently however, they've begun to transcend that simple classification and are increasingly an interesting band in their own right. They filmed a documentary called "Sleepwalking Through the Mekong" about a trip to Cambodia, recording their collaborations with local legends for a surprisingly excellent soundtrack. It's their best work by leaps and bounds, particularly the title track, which should vie with Amadou & Mariam's "Sabali" and Animal Collective's "Summertime Clothes" for song of the year. It's hard to put my finger on what's better about it, the formula is exactly the same. Maybe they've just been practicing.

Last night they did the latest in an annual series at the SF International Film Festival, performing a live soundtrack to a silent classic, in this case The Lost World. And it was great, with enough reference points from their catalog to provide signposts, and distorted, echoey chugga chugga instros to power dinosaur attacks all night. Should they change their name? Can a band called Dengue Fever just be a great band? Hope so.

Dengue Fever
"March of the Balloon Animals" (mp3)
from "Dengue Fever Presents: Sleepwalking Through the Mekong"
(M80)

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This Machine Kills Fascists

2009-02-17T14:57:00.000-08:00

What the hell with the umbrellas with nine foot wingspans. Are you intentionally trying to blind me, or are you so consumed with self-importance that you are unaware that you are stabbing me in the head? My orange normal-sized umbrella is like a molotov cocktail in this sea of deadly black rain reflection. It's not even raining that hard, you assholes, and half of you are wearing dumb boots anyway.

And then there's this dick. I hope it swallows her whole like a giant nylon venus flytrap in reverse.

RED HOOK HAWK

2009-01-05T15:59:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I was pitterpattering on the computer, diligently filing my unemployment insurance, snooping on ex-girlfriends on facebook and pondering my desolate financial future. My desk (which is really the kitchen table in Danny’s apartment from whom I rent a room and kitchen/office access) faces out into the quasi-wilds of a Brooklyn backyard.

Something stirred off in the far corner of the yard, behind the decrepit hydrangea by the stone wall. I hauled myself away from the table/desk with a put-upon sigh and peered out. What was that, a pigeon? Yes, a pigeon was involved. There was a flap of a grey and white pigeon wing. But looming over the thrashing wing was something much bigger. I couldn’t see through the branches and the brush. A few inches of mottled white underbelly, a long arching brown wing, a flash of light colored underwing, more pigeon fluttering, blood. I must’ve tapped accidentally against the glass (or perhaps the “what the fuck?” wasn’t so under my breath) because it looked me dead in the eye.

A hawk was staring at me with a strip of pigeon meat dangling from its beak. I shifted slowly behind the curtains partially so as not to disturb it but, to be honest, partly because the fucker scared me. There was something accusatory in his glare and the fact that he had meat in his curved sharp beak and a pigeon was taking its final twitches in his talons made me feel like I was invading his backyard which, if you want to get all naturalist about it, I was. Judging me not a threat (hey!) he turned back to his biological duty – disassembling the pigeon piece by piece. I dialed my friend Coleman, a former ornithologist turned environmental lawyer (and beer drinking buddy). I got his voicemail and whispered a (probably inaccurate) description into his voicemail hoping he would call me back to identify the species as though that would somehow legitimize this bizarre event. Next I called my parents who retired from New York years ago to the country so they could see this kind of thing all the time. Suckers! I didn’t have to drive anywhere for a quart of milk AND I had Marty Stouffer’s Wild America LIVE without having to move at all. Again I left a whispered description into an electronic voicemailbox.

With no one to share this with I settled in to watch as, over the course of nearly forty minutes, this hawk meticulously stripped every morsel from the lesser bird. Finally he seemed satisfied with his work, like his job was less to eat the meat and more to clean the bones in some sort of pigeon disassembly plant. He turned, at last, away from me and I saw his rusty-red tail feathers jutting out from under his folded wings. Red tail hawk! Red tail hawk! My sighting now had species specificity and was therefore legit! He gave me one more threatening glare, a little Mafia warning to keep my trap shut about what I’d just seen, extended his wings and flapped off over the buildings, and the B.Q.E. towards Red Hook.

I cautiously slid open the patio door and crept out to the site. The pigeon had been quartered into the exact same parts that you get in a bucket of KFC. The ribcage had been split in two and the narrow ribs picked clean. The pink little feet lay crossed one over the other in a pile of soft down that had been ripped away to allow access. One wing lay fully extended in a beautiful arc. I had taken no pictures, no youtube videos. The only evidence of my witness to this beautiful, bloody act of nature was the pile of down and bones at my feet. I stared at the CSI scene before me. I swept what I could into a doubled plastic bag and put it in the trash can in front of the house with the empty Amy’s Organic Pizza box and Trader Joe’s burrito wrapper, not sure if today was trash day or recycling day. I returned to my kitchen desk, my computer, my pitterpattering, and my unemployment insurance.

Nothing Ever Happens

2008-12-05T18:31:00.000-08:00

In the wake of this amusing if somewhat stilted poll, we got to thinking, what's the point of going to a bar anyway? You can drink at home for way cheaper, and one's chances at the ripe age of 36 of "getting lucky" are both slim and slightly depressing, so why bother? An ode to San Francisco's lamest bars.

Lucky 13 - Purports to be punk rock with their sub-Zeitgeist tough love routine, but everyone is ugly and the patio stinks. Exacerbated by the central location, as it's often the most convenient place for everyone to have a boring time.

Dalva - Sure, there's lots of "crazy" stuff going on out front, but inside is a straight snooze. Attention DJs - everyone has heard "Guns of Brixton" enough times to last four lifetimes.

Gold Cane - Upper Haight faux dive scores points for cheap drinks, loses points for the instant malaise that sets in when you get a seat and realize this bar blows. I once made out with someone I met here. It was boring.

Chug Pub - Formerly the deadest Irish bar of all time, now populated with conspicuously chesty Asian girls, the men who love them, and their crazy "chug tower." Sounds like a recipe for wild times, but instead it's a recipe for a Blockbuster night.

Absinthe - Not a bar proper, just a really annoying restaurant.

Hotel Utah - Smells like pee, weirdest layout ever, terrible live music, mentally deficient bartenders (except that lady who used to bartend at the Drift, she's super cool). On the plus side, I'm not mad at their turkey burger.

The Clift - The Clift is like ah fuck it, just don't ever go.

Ha-Ra - People love this place but check it out, just because it's old doesn't make it good. Have you been to Clooney's? What's appealing about drinking with homeless people? There are better ways to feel superior to others, like winning push-up contests.

Elixir - Tough call because it's my local and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for something happening other than a "quiet night." Points for nice drinks, excellent service and better music than the shitty Ecast machine would connote. Elixir, I really want to make this work, but I need you to step it up. Call me.

Monk's Kettle - Over it. The weird homeless zombie attack kind of ruined it for me. Plus there's no way that bartender is ever going to even smirk at my hilarious quips.

Beretta - My people love this place because it's all like classy and whatnot but we went once and my friend asked for a cranberry and vodka and they cheerily responded, "OK, we don't have cranberry juice, but I can make you fresh hibiscus juice instead." That sentence is like a metaphor for a loveless marriage.

(brief aside, while I was typing this I went to the office kitchen to get a beer, which my coworker Sarah put in her pants and it emerged sans bottlecap. That's the kind of shit that never happens at any of the above bars)

Bonus Track - Some Bars Where There's Always a Story the Next Day:

Place Pigalle - Way back when (2002) you could always count on something happening at Pigalle, though the driving force for that is now gainfully employed as a personal trainer so you could skip, I guess. Actually, I walked by the other day, it's lame now. Forget I brought it up.

Gold Dust - Tourist bars are always good times, the staff here are aces and you've never seen three guys happier to be playing "Suzie Q" for the tenth time this week.

Thieves Tavern - Whatever during the week but the ladies on the early shift on Sunday keep it extra real and make me think it'd be fun to be a lesbian. Non-stop chuckles on laundry day, there's no knocking it.

500 Club - At first I was like yawn with your punk rock but this is a stand-up joint. I met bartender dude there one time via the aforementioned Pigalle pal and he still hooks it up, like a year later. There are not too many female demographics that respond less favorably to my hilarity than the tattooed ladies of the Five Hundo, but I don't care.

There's tons more but I gotta go, it's Friday.

Cupcakes are Overrated

2008-10-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

The editorial staff here at B&P is in Tahoe this weekend sitting in hot tubs and generally losing our shirts, so we've asked our pal Mai to weigh in in our absence. Today's topic came up when in the wake of our MySpace deal getting done, attempts to lay claim to one of the eight fancy cupcakes they sent us nearly came to blows. Mai, a recent arrival on these shores, was perplexed by this American fanfare, and filed the following opinion piece. We've not edited her prose because it highlights her always unique perspective, and we hope for more reports from this intrepid young journalista.

It's been 7 months since I moved from Tokyo to San Francisco, and usually I don't feel like here is a "foreign" place somehow, but I have to point out some stuff that I don't get. It's not about scary Sushi with colorful toppings nor drinking at work on early afternoon on Fridays. One thing that I don't understand, and I've pretended like understanding is, cupcakes. People would know that food in Japan is awesome, and in fact Japan is a country of sticklers SWEETS as well, which is in our language, more like pronounced as SUIIITSU. If you go to any kinds of decent malls' food sections in Tokyo (called Depa-Chika, Department stores' basement), you see all kinds of beautiful cakes, puddings, cookies, chocolates... just awesome enough to look at them, and you feel kind of guilty eating them cause they are so well-decorated. Magazines talk about SWEETS, there are always new trends like what kind of SWEETS are in etc. It's a big thing for sure. If it's somebody's birthday, you get one of these beautiful arts and share the tasty-ness together. I have a friend of mine who went to buy a 5 star chef's big cheese cake and brought that with her bicycle by riding it for 40 minutes. She was serious.

Cup cakes never make me as excited as these. When we got tons of cup cakes recently at work from our client, people talked about it all day long longing for them. For me, it's just a sweet steamed bread with too sweet cream on the top. I wonder what's gonna happen when they experience our SUIIITS.

Welcome to Mali

2008-10-14T13:57:00.000-07:00

Very amazing new Amadou & Mariam, who could stand to update their website once in a while. Via, erm, Pitchfork. OK? OK?

Sabali - Amadou & Mariam

Alaska

2008-10-14T13:56:00.001-07:00

In between batting my eyelashes at ladies on the Tube last week, I managed to complete the very excellent Michael Chabon book The Yiddish Policeman's Union. I was not a fan of Kavalier & Clay, and downright HATED Wonder Boys (though I made the mistake of seeing the Michael Douglas movie first, which may have clouded my judgement. You can put bifocals on a pig, doesn't make them a professor). I audiobooked The Gentlemen of the Road, which I thought was more enjoyable in premise than in execution, but maybe I need to read the book itself. That's no dis to Andre Braugher, an interesting pick to vocalize a distinctly Semitic novel, but whose talents continue to outstrip his abilities to score only supporting roles of the snooziest variety. So YPU is a snappy little murder mystery, with a What If premise that is less far-fetched than it might sound. And word is that the Coen Brothers are running with the film. Ideas for casting? My brother had better be trying out.

A-La-Ska would be a good name for a ska band.

Whew

2008-10-14T12:45:00.000-07:00

See, all that worrying last week, and all we needed was a little bailout from the government and we're totally fine. Now I'm going to go back to blissful eBay spending and a total disregard for my future finances. And I'm pretty sure these pumpkin stocks are going to peak around January.

Why Can't You Set Your Monkey Free?

2008-10-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

UPDATE, MORE MONKEY TOMFOOLERY:

So the busy guys from Gorillaz, Tank Girl, Blur, The Good, The Bad & The Queen, Mali Music (not to be confused with this), the awesome new Amadou & Mariam and probably some other stuff, have gone and made a Chinese Opera called Monkey Journey to the West. It was just one of those things they hadn't done yet, I guess. Personally I might have prioritized learning how to water ski or taking yoga over composing a Chinese Opera but hey that's just me. No idea why a Monkey can't keep a shirt on though.

Anyways, it's based on the Chinese story of the Monkey King. You know the one, he's a Monkey who is a king, and he's got a pig friend with a rake and then some other shit happens? Yes, this is the also the premise for Dragonball. The soundtrack is out on the fine label XL Recordings.

Apparently there's a film version with Jet Li but who gives a crap, forget I brought it up.

Intolerance of Lactose

2008-10-13T08:33:00.000-07:00

On the airplane last night from Atlanta to SFO, the guy next to me ordered two glasses of milk and some cookies. He was probably 50. And then the older guy on the other side of me (exit row, natch) heard dude order milk and was like, that sounds really good, I'll have milk and cookies too. I had a Heineken myself, because I'm not six years old.

Separated at Birth

2008-08-01T12:09:00.000-07:00

When's the last time you saw Curumin and Bridgette Bardot in the same place at the same time? I'm just saying.

BONUS: Yayoi Kusama likes dots

I Could Watch Naked Icelanders All Day Long

2008-07-18T15:56:00.000-07:00

I always thought Sigur Ros were either messing with us ("We invented our own Elvin language!") or just pretentious Viking dicks, or both, but I'm not mad at Nordic hippie ladies running through the woods, and this song is a bit more engaging than their usual dirgefest.

Wait, what the hell am I talking about. You know, between the aforementioned Japrocksampler, my own prodigious beardage and this woodland nonsense, one of my friends better shave my head and slap some sense into me before I start a psych band or some shit.

Refusenik Rock

2008-07-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

I'm reading a really incredible book by famed kook Julian Cope of The Teardrop Explodes called Japrocksampler, and have been generally reveling in Japanese weirdness. And I don't mean that in a Pink Lady kind of way. At any rate, I'm not sure how my mind makes the jump from the Flower Travellin' Band to Mos Burger to GO!GO!7188 but it works in my brain so quiet, you.

Italians Do It Better

2008-07-03T22:27:00.001-07:00

Back at the non-homefront with Little I doing the old You Tube meander, where a harmless excursion into the land of cat bloopers has lead us horribly, horribly astray. Enjoyable for a minute and a half sure, and then a turn for the bizarre in the way that only a homemade Italian gay Jesus parody can be. I like cats.

UPDATE: From the same poster, here's an important update.

The Film Orson Welles Made in Heaven

2008-03-07T22:01:00.001-08:00

Little I and I were looking for a song that he's been hearing on Texas radio called "Cumbia del Mosquito," and this is what came up on Google. Clearly there's a bizarro dimension somewhere where this is normal, and people who don't fly around on brooms with prosthetic noses and dance the samba in Egypt are the weird ones.

I Slept on Brooklyn, Apparently

2008-01-13T10:54:00.001-08:00

Via Mad Decent, my favorite song of 2008 (Ricky Blaze's "Cut Dem Off"), was apparently released at some point in 2007 and no one told me. Not a lot of pictures of dude floating around, so here's one from his busy Myspace page, which (if you can keep it from crashing your computer) features one of the best event promos I've ever heard. Mush mouth fake interviews, vocoders and honky tonk piano, I don't know what the hell is going on, but I am so there. There is a paucity of information about this guy on the interweb, I might have go to the library or ask some Jamaicans or something.

Challenge 2007: Name an Animal I Can't Beat in a Fight

2007-12-25T21:06:00.001-08:00

Ivan and I are drinking and watching Animal Planet. It's a charming show about the Giant Otter, which is clearly the most endearing of the water-based mammals. Whatever beavers. Anyways, I put forth to my brother my theory that I am not afraid of any animals (except Man - the most dangerous game). We came up with a few exceptions, but not a lot. Sure, I'm too scared to call out the old lady who cuts me at line in Whole Foods, but what's a coyote going to do to me? Bark? Eat my chickens? So I'm only listing the animals that are going to be problematic here. Clearly, if it's me vs a goat, I'm coming out victorious (unless that goat has studied his Agrippa. Which I have)

Great White Shark - This is the first one that everyone comes up with, and honestly the least scary. Haven't you seen The Princess Bride? Sure, those were eels, but it's essentially the same thing, and the same solution - a punch in the nose. Let's say I'm taking a little dip and I see the dreaded fin. My head ducks underwater and I face the shark head-on as he comes my way, not extending any limbs for him (or her, I guess. Do they make female sharks?) to grab. When the shark gets within say, 14-18 inches, a quick jab to the gills is extended, careful to steer clear of their (yawn) two rows of fangs. One bonk and the shark is off in search of prey that doesn't fight back. Come back when you grow a pair (of lungs).

Lion - Sure, lions can be intimidating, they're like 800 lbs. I get the sense most lions can't be bothered to eat the likes of me, but let's say someone is feeling extra motivated. I get behind a medium-sized tree, one I can reach around, but one big enough to prevent a direct charge. Lion goes left, I go right, always keeping the tree between us, all the while peppering his hairy face with two-fingered pokes in the eyes and a steady stream of profanity. Eventually he either gets tired of being poked and goes away, or goes blind and is quickly domesticated by me, spending the rest of his life fetching my slippers.

Alligators - These guys, along with their crocodilian cousins, are very linear. One line of toothy death. So like in Karate Kid II, when gators attack, I rotate at the hip, pivoting my shoulders. He speeds past me and I am off to the bar.

Grizzly Bear - My understanding is that if I make a lot of noise, a bear will run away. That's what my mom just said, and is in keeping with my years of ninja training. Better to fight another day, my friends. That's my strategy, and I'm going to apply it to polar bears as well.

Killer Whale - A killer whale would fuck me up, ok. Likewise with hippos.

Fish Sauce World Tour

2007-12-05T16:23:00.000-08:00

My friend Leo and his (now) wife Song got hitched in Jinghong in South West China, and I took the opportunity to go to Manila with my friends Andrej and Cindy, and then after to Tokyo for work. Above is a picture of Andrej and my enormous forehead. Below is a picture of a frog in a puddle in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Day One: SFO - Tokyo

The week before departure to Asia was fraught with stress of the most retarded sort, trying to complete work that could just as well have waited two weeks, gratuitous socializing and more than anything, a failed, tragic attempt to activate a new phone (bought in the hopes of being extra communicative whilst on the road). At any rate, I stayed up most of the night before in order to konk out on the flight and was dropped off by Jessica in good spirits. Spirits which were quickly crushed by the retirement home atmo of the SFO-NRT leg of my journey, courtesy of Northwest Airlines. Between the superannuated stewardesses bilking me for booze money, the mainland Chinese guy who I declined to swap seats with giving me the stink eye (I love the aisle, so much mobility) and the cardboard cuisine, it was a long, long 12 hours back to my 2nd (3rd? 4th?) hometown. I neglected to take any photos of this portion because you know what a plane looks like.

(Cindy on the Promenade in Jinghong)

Day Two: Tokyo - Bangkok

The mood improved immediately upon arrival at Narita, my ability to buy an onigiri and a beer unfettered by the rust of my Japanese language abilities. A quick hour and I was off to Bangkok. The sweethearts at JAL kindly bumped me up to Business, essentially ruining my ability to fly like a normal person ever again. Four varieties of sake? Twist my arm. The dorky rich kid next to me kept asking annoying questions ("What is...Campari?"), but otherwise the flight alone could probably have passed for a vacation. I arrived at Bangkok at 1AM local time, got the luggage that I feared might be lost and found my way to the airport shuttle, which drove me the 100 meters to the airport hotel. There I rendezvous'd with Andrej, who'd just arrived from Manila himself. We made vague attempts to make a night of it, but the bar at the Airport Novotel is hardly jumping, and we were both beat. I didn't take any photos of the airport hotel either.

(Isaac is not scared of bird flu)

Day Three: Bangkok - Chiang Mai

The next morning we grabbed Cindy at the airport and hopped a quick plane to Chiang Mai. Air Asia is a bit like Southwest Airlines, only without the shorts and the corny jokes that pass for congeniality. It was only an hour though, and we were there before I had a chance to get grumpy. Andrej, being in the hospitality business, had kindly organized the entire trip for us lazy-ass Americans, and after withdrawing a wad of baht from a dusty ATM, we grabbed a cab to our hotel. Chiang Mai immediately reminded me of suburban Japan, small windy streets with miniscule sidewalks and traffic on a perpetual duck and weave. Thai drivers honk incessantly. Not the sharp angry fuck-you honk of say, the commute between SF and Cupertino, but more a quick and friendly tap-tap to alert the countless bicyclists who brave even the speediest of thoroughfares.

(The first in a series of one pictures of me using a telephone)

Checking into the tropical Yaang Come Hotel, we were quickly put at ease. We could see splashing kids in the pool from the leafy open air lobby, and the rooms were decked out in local crafts to a degree that was charming without being kitschy (a price sheet warned us about pocketing the wooden statues on the mantle, our gracious hosts having been subject to too much souvenir-ing). The three of us cleaned up and headed out, consulting a quick map and asking one of the friendly concierges a good place to eat, which went something like this:

Andrej: Where's a good place to eat lunch near here?

Nice Thai Lady: I suggest the Antique Cafe around the corner, they have English menus.

Isaac (ever the intrepid traveler): But where did you eat lunch?

NTL: Here, at work.

IB: Hmm, how about yesterday?

NTL: Here.

IB: What if you weren't going to eat here, where would you eat?

NTL: The Antique Cafe.

So after a nice enough meal at the Antique Cafe, we meandered around, passing through the Night Market area, which was largely tons of stalls hocking the same Singha Beer tee-shirts and "Abibas" sporting goods from China, but full of unfailingly friendly people and tons of good things to eat. While Cindy dozed in our room, Andrej and I walked around the touristy Night Market, had a quick drink (Mojito for him, Campari for me) amongst loud, lobster-like Anglos and then slept in the cool comfort of our peaceful room. I woke up early the next morning and went running at sunup along the Ping River, the local joggers going the opposite direction giving me a sporty salute in passing. I got back to the hotel, ate some of the wholly edible breakfast buffet (see China hotel later) and lay by the pool for an hour reading until it was time to fly out. There was some subsequent internal discussion about the lingering next-day effects of the spicy food (Not from me. Or Andrej.), but generally Thailand was a breeze. Honestly, I'd not really thought much of passing through, but having done so, it's easy to see the appeal. Nice people, nice food, free wifi, etc. Important side note, I didn't spy anything even vaguely sleazy the entire time there, in stark contrast to the stereotype of Thailand as creepy sex capital of Asia. Actually, some of those English dudes at the bar were pretty sleazy, but none of the local ladies were having it.

Yourantai B&B in Jinghong

Days Four to Eighteen to follow....

The Interest of Conflict

2007-10-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Honeycut's "Exodus Honey" is the startup music for the new Mac OS "Leopard!" Check the primer with music out here, and every time you start a Mac for the next five years. Free download below.

Honeycut
"Exodus Honey" (mp3)
from "The Day I Turned To Glass"
(Quannum Projects)

Buy at iTunes Music Store
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Stream from Rhapsody
Buy at Napster
Buy at Rhapsody
Buy at GroupieTunes
Buy at Insound
More On This Album

Movie People Suck (except John Malkovich)

2007-10-08T11:33:00.000-07:00

What? They do. It's ok, I'm allowed to say it because I am a movie person. But they/we do suck. Especially when they install rain machines on my entire block and light up these giant hanging light blimps (6 of them) outside my window.
Also sucky? 1,000 people standing on my stoop to try to take a photo of George Clooney on their iphones and fail to notice they are pushing past John Malkovich standing in a bathrobe in the middle of the street holding a hatchet. Don't believe me? This is in front of my house last week. Nice way to start my day.

The Atlantic Antic aka Street Meat Fest '07

2007-10-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

While my brother's bloggery tends towards obscure musical links and cool video clips I can only post about the things I know and so herewith I give you more pictures of meat I've eaten outside while drunk. The Atlantic Antic is a yearly street festival that stretches from Flatbush ave to the BQE in the Heights passing through various ethnic and cultural neighborhoods each of which is well represented by the food stalls that line the thoroughfare. Each September I run this gastronomic gauntlet with unbounded enthusiasm that borders on obsession.

This year was no different. Here's how it went:

Woke up mid-morning with a healthy hangover to the twangings of my roommate's mandolin as he prepared for a bluegrass brunch. I had a very light breakfast that doesn't merit description compared to the epicurean maelstrom to follow. Note Matty Dread's face as he bangs away on his guitar. Good morning to me!
After a rousing bluegrass session (and a preemptive gatorade) we took to the streets. The first beer was had. A banh mi was consumed to fuel the push towards Flatbush ave. My hands were still shaky at this point and I was holding a beer and a sandwich so it's a bit blurry but you get the idea. This one was chicken because I can't mess with the foie gras that comes on the "classic".
Further down the road, Jonny Bang Bang stopped here for a pig sandwich and by the time I got back from the beer place he had eaten the whole thing so I can only assume it was good. If you look closely at this picture you can see this is an entire roast pig laid out on the outdoor counter. Yah, that's the pig's head on the right. For some of you hillbillies this is no big deal but keep in mind this is on a sidewalk in Brooklyn. Thanks for saving me a bite, Jonny. You owe me $5 for the beer.
As we pushed onwards we entered the Caribbean and Creole section of town. Sammy Banjo stopped at the Jerk Center while Todd posed for me. That's his Jerk Face. I didn't try the Jerk because I was saving myself for shawarma that never arrived but Sam said it was good. More on the shawarma later.

Some rookie on our squad got a mozzarepa. Whatever, dude.

At this point we're several beers deep and the shawarma's siren song was calling me back towards the other end of the avenue so we did an about-face and followed the column of smoke rising from the middle eastern section of the fair. Once you get that side of Court Street it's halal-ville. If you can't tell by the spinach pies and baklava spilling out of every store front then surely the belly dancer and live Lebanese band should tell you. I would have taken a picture of the belly dancer but that felt skeevy so instead here is my favorite band we saw.
Jonny Bang and I chose our shawarma target by the length of the line and the fact that nobody who worked at the stand spoke English except the 12 year old kid with braces. We stood there for 15 minutes and got hungry so ate some falafel and stuffed grapeleaves while we waited.

After 15 more minutes they had served 1 shawarma and little Jonny was getting grumpy without his beer (no beer in the Muslim section) so we actually gave up and pressed on. I know, I know. I can't believe it either.

Luckily the Greeks have their own version

of shawarma and they have no problems serving it with beer. It is the mighty gyro. Note of caution: Greeks don't like it when you call their gyro a shawarma. It's a fucking gyro, man. Sorry Greek dude. The gyro was pretty awesome. No idea what kind of meat it is but it's served on nice hand baked bread with a yogurt cucumber sauce that spilled all over Tommy.

What can one do post-gyro except take a quick trip to Spain for some paella, chorizo and my perennial favorite, grilled, salted sardines? Holy crap are these good.

It's now 5pm and we've been walking, eating and drinking since noon. Outside my favorite local bar a french rock band is playing laisse tomber les filles (that one's for you, big I) and two semi-foxy girls are go-go dancing on raised platforms. The sun is painting the crowd a glowing red as the smoke from the Spanish grill rises up over us where we sit on a curb to catch our breath. Jonny Bang returns from the beer stand with another round and I decide that this year I will skip the deep fried twinkie from the British fish and chips place. That is my one regret from this year's antic.

Haisai Ojisan

2007-09-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

Hifana are OK, I probably would have loved them in 1997. Those are surprisingly chesty sea nymphs in the video, but I suppose there are allowances to be made when dealing with mythological creatures. You should see the pantheon of ancient gods worshiped here at Blonde & Precise, what a gang of tramps. I dig this song mostly because it samples Okinawan troubadour Shoukichi Kina. More arty good times (on advertising dime) live here.

Frankly more interesting work along similar lines was done (to death) by Tadanori Yokoo in the 60s, whose website is irritating enough to make me want to finish this post and go get some more coffee.

Something Great, Surprisingly

2007-09-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

There's a lot to dislike about LCD Soundsystem. The NY pretension, that dude's hairy face and insistence on wearing jackets with t-shirts, the boring backstory, and more than anything the vastly overrated catalog. So it's with some hesitation that admit that I like this song, and several other songs from this record. Damn. No way I'm posting a picture of dude though, so I just ran with old reliable, the venerable stag beetle.

"Armed With Trombone"

2007-09-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

I've been on a big Willie Colon kick of late, having recently copped one of the Fania reissues, Siembra, with Ruben Blades. Classic NY salsa style, with a little disco throw in for good measure. The Colon track "La Murga," which the Internet translates as "The Murga," is a true heater, and may be recognizable to some as the sample from the Rawkus Lyricist Lounge track track "CIA," which featured KRS and Zack from Rage Against the Machine. Also someone named Last Emperor. I remember really liking this track when it came out, but outside of a rather hot beat and the unflappable Chris Parker, it's not aged so well. None of this should be taken as an endorsement of any contemporary Rawkus releases.
Willie Colon - "La Murga"

KRS One, Zach de la Rocha & Last Emperor - "CIA"

King Kamehameha

2007-09-14T14:49:00.001-07:00

So, we've established that anime is lame, correct? I hate that shit. If you're a grown American man and you're professing your love of Naruto, you are a weirdo. And don't get me started on big-eyed anime porn, that's even creepier. I don't care how many 16th century woodblock prints you cite, you are a nutjob. Please don't talk to me.

Anyhoo, it goes without saying that crazy genius films like Lupin III or Tokyo Godfathers are in a totally different category. I also will admit a certain affinity for the things I enjoyed as a kid, like Battle of the Planets, or my boy Goku from Dragonball circa 1986. Which is why I bring all this up. Because there's a brass band covering the original Dragonball theme song. This will be interesting for maybe six people, which pretty much sums up our readership here at B&P. Actually, it's not even interesting to me. I'm out of here.

Gatchaman

Goku Comes Alive

Wheels

2007-09-14T13:58:00.001-07:00

I got a new bike. For some reason I got it into my head that I needed a bike that folded, and that I was going to take it on business trips and pedal around Berlin and Shanghai like the urbane little world traveler I purport to be. Thus far I have not folded it except to show people that it can fold. It's like my genitals that way - sometimes I take them out just to prove that they still exist, but their functionality is otherwise irrelevant. A real crowd-pleaser. Dan Carr says this bike makes me look even more like a community college professor from New England.

Meat Mafia

2007-09-04T11:22:00.000-07:00

Since its birth in 1994 there has been one organization secretly pulling the strings that influence the way this country is run. It's hard to say how deep that influence goes or how far they will go to maintain it for they follow strict rules of conduct that swear them to secrecy. Many who have crossed them have not lived to tell of it. I risk my very life to bring you this posting. Pull the wool from your eyes! Don't let them control you any longer!

Cholly

2007-09-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

The kind folks over at Afropunk have made a trailer for what looks to be a fictionalization of their excellent (if a bit long) documentary, with the snappy title White Lies, Black Sheep. Their latest email blast contained an embedded thing that didn't work, so I went with an image of perennial favorites, Fishbone.

Tough Crimes, Silly Alliance

2007-09-02T16:26:00.001-07:00

Chances of mockery from Lydia - very, very high. tough alliance silly crimes

El Alcalde del Mundo

2007-08-28T14:31:00.000-07:00

I have never understood dude's weird hat thing, but this record is growing on me, even if it's not breaking much new ground.
Manu Chao
"Me Llaman Calle" (mp3)
from "La Radiolina"
(Nacional Records)

Buy at Manu Chao Pre-Order Store
More On This Album

I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight

2007-08-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

Via boy genius and soon-to-be San Franciscan David Day

Gandhi Likes Them Young - UPDATE

2007-08-15T10:36:00.000-07:00

Only the Professor Jonny Astro (see below re: Mandy Lane) could pull this off. And now even CNN is covering this fast breaking story. Yah Astro!

Dans le Port d'Amsterdam

2007-08-14T12:04:00.000-07:00

jacques brel

Kind of Like a Fancy Moisturizer, Only Made of Pork Stock

2007-08-13T18:22:00.000-07:00

I'm generally loathe to post anything about "wacky" Japan, but here, allow me translate: crazy people take baths in ramen broth.

(via the excellent Japan Probe)

Next We Take Manhattan

2007-08-10T00:51:00.000-07:00

IB & IB in SF, feel me.

Mos Def Used to Rap

2007-08-09T15:17:00.001-07:00

I'm so glad he's given that up.

Disco Dancer

2007-08-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

50 Ft Queenie

2007-08-02T12:23:00.000-07:00

PM Yawn

2007-07-31T12:04:00.000-07:00

I didn't think he could top that depressing crossover single attempt, but Pharoahe Monch's cover of Welcome to the Terrordome is really a bummer. If Chuck D wasn't busy with half-baked digital schemes to resuccitate his career, he'd bumrush the fucking show and put an end to this craziness.

Plus all he (PM) talks about in interviews now is how his brother listened to Sabbath growing up. I liked Organized Konfusion just fine, and "Simon Says" has aged exceedingly well. But rappers who have "always loved classic rock" in the post-Hey Ya-era are almost as bad as aging 90s Alt rock one-hit wonders who think it's ironic to cover NWA songs. Wait, no they're not, Nina Gordon gives me hives.

PE's timeless, brilliant version is un-embeddable because of major label retardation, but is viewable here , and check "Simon Says" below.

PERCEPTIONS OF SELF or HOW FAT I AM ONLINE

2007-07-26T12:05:00.001-07:00

I know what you're thinking. With my dashing good looks and wild success at the baccarat tables of Monte Carlo, I must surely be turgid with confidence. Then I googled myself. Oofa. In case you can't see me I'm the guy on the right hidden behind my own chin. Also note to self: that inventive facial hairstyle is not cool. Thanks interweb!

When in Rome

2007-07-24T16:02:00.000-07:00

Whilst toiling selflessly in Vegas last week at the thrilling HME in the service of my dark master, I was amazed at how much that town changed since I was first/last there in 2001 or so. And largely for the better, at least in that I ate passable food not once but at nearly every meal, and didn't even feel particularly gouged. The Grand Lux in the Venetian where I stayed (and am now officially a "player," gold mask not included) made a tidy little breakfast for a measly ten bucks, though for some vaguely insulting reason they called it "Peasant Eggs." Regardless, eating bracingly spicy Chinese pickles and drinking a Sapporo at lunch stood in stark contrast to my last trip there, where I remember being served a tomato slice that looked like a manhole cover (no homo).

Passable food aside, the clientele generally look like circus freaks, and the fake tits on display made me understand better where religious zealots are coming from. If seeing a four hundred pound man in lime green shorts at the buffet line is not a sign of the impending apocalypse, I dunno what is. (I say all this without having ever set foot off the Strip, perhaps other parts of Vegas are really classy, intelligent and down to earth)

And speaking of classy, I was conscripted (only semi-begrudgingly) by coworkers and other conference attendees to that Vegas classic, the strip club. My fondness for boobs notwithstanding, this was clearly not a good move for me. All the cliches were in full force: the potty-mouthed Latina from Washington Heights (who insisted on calling me "daddy"), the tattooed hipster chick (who in a non-surreal environment might have been my steez), the kindly if dim waitress (who during a lull told me about hiking options in the Greater Las Vegas Area), and of course the dead-eyed Estonian (whose razor-like hip bones gave me the opposite of a boner). Ah, bad times. When all of my party disappeared into the private rooms and I'd had enough hiking tips, I beat a hasty retreat back to my hotel, $200 poorer, with a lancing headache, grossed out and perhaps permanently flaccid.

Gross Gambling Winnings: ~$1200 (Slots, Blackjack)
Gross Gambling Losses: ~$1200 (Slots, Roulette)

King of Bongo

2007-07-24T13:11:00.000-07:00

Download "Rainin In Paradize" (mp3)
from "Rainin In Paradize EP"
by Manu Chao
Nacional Records

More On This Album

What gives, Manu? This Manu Chao guy is very frustrating - so great in Mano Negra, two unbelievable solo records (both perplexingly absent from iTunes and Rhapsody), a surprisingly snoozy production turn for the otherwise sublime Amadou & Mariam, and then me and Lydia went to see him play recently here in SF and it was wack. Still digesting this new track, I'm going to maintain high hopes, in spite of the gratuitous use of the letter Z. The grammar police cut the French a little slack. Conspiracy theories about M.I.A.'s graphic designer to follow.

Two classic vids below.

Jah Provides Pachyderms for Pre-Historic Construction Project

2007-07-12T10:40:00.000-07:00

Wow, this was really eye-opening for me. I had no idea that the great pyramids were built by white Rastas with domesticated woolly mammoths. I always thought it was us Jews who built them? This is going to change Passover in a big way. Probably won't shorten the seder though.

All the Blogs Love Mandy Lane - UPDATE

2007-07-03T12:46:00.000-07:00

Here at Big I and Little i's Blonde & Precise Bloggorama we're unafraid to use this forum to support our pals (yes, we have some). Our buddy The Professor Jonny Astro's flick ALL THE BOYS LOVE MANDY LANE is being released by the Fat Man and his brother (no, I don't mean me and Big I) on July 20th. It's good. See it. Anybody who brought live band karaoke to LA can't be all bad.
Watch the bad ass trailer:

UPDATE: I know you all spent hours scouring your local theaters for Jon's flick but good news! It got saved at the last minute from the Weinsteins and will be in a theater near you soon.

What I Miss the Most About Tokyo

2007-07-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

San Francisco Stormtrooper dance parties are simply not up to snuff.

Stormtrooper vs Akihabara (Via Japan Probe)

Ghost Town

2007-06-28T09:47:00.001-07:00

I'm in London for the brilliantly-named London Calling 2007 conference. It's fine, a bit unnecessary, but I've had some constructive-ish meetings, and more importantly, London is amazing. These ladies cannot get enough of my bearded face and dry American humor. Well, not really, but there's no knocking chatting about politics at your local on a sunny afternoon over a nice Staropramen. Plus I went a little apeshit at Muji's 50% off sale. Did I really need a new alarm clock? Apparently I did.

Apropos of something, here's this rough but enjoyable footage of the reformed Specials doing "Gangsters*" at Glastonbury with the still-charming** Lily Allen. Worth it for Billy Bragg's skanking alone.

Saturday I'm going to see Dan's band Ghost Cat in Camden. Other highlights, Gail is going to work for the excellent Monocle, and the perennial London fave, drinking to excess with one Alex Watt.

* no "Gangsters" on ITS for some reason, so that's the link to "Little Bitch." Same smell, different nostril.
** She teeters on the edge of annoying me, but is still hanging on. For now. Step it up, Lily! Oh wait, you did.

Bom Biddly Biddly Biddly Bom

2007-06-15T12:13:00.000-07:00

Kingston's Mavado has been around for a minute, but never really stood out from any other gravely-voiced West Indians until this song, which is basically what would have happened if Depeche Mode had grown up in Jamaica. Overwrought electronic effects swirl around vaguely menacing lyrics, drum machines go apeshit, and I feel slightly uncomfortable. Good times. Buy this nice pirate-themed comp from iTunes here.

As a general matter, Fader continues to step up their game, particularly on the blog front (and good for them, that whole marketing company confluence thing was getting annoying).

(Photos of Mavado floating around the internet are either of his Mortal Kombat namesake, or of him trying to look scary, so I ran with this one of Captain America playing the tambourine instead)

Peace Pigs II

2007-06-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

I got a sweetass email in response to the Pigs of Peace post from my buddy CJ in Hendersonville, North Carolina, (yes, the same Hendersonville that is home of Hot Dog World). He sent me the above image of a delicious yet doomed swine that he found at the suicide food blog. Is it wrong that they make me hungry? Oh, and CJ, in answer to your question: yes, vinegar based North Carolina style BBQ, not mustard based South Carolina style. Duh.

Pound, the enjoyable but totally unnecessary short film

2007-06-13T11:39:00.001-07:00

Here's a short film about two guys shaking hands (not a sexual euphemism in this case). I knew that guy Evan Bernard briefly back in the 90s, he did some videos for JSBX, I think. Nice guy. Once jumped up on stage at the Mercury Lounge with a Yoda mask on if I recall correctly. Beat is by Squeak E Clean, aka Sam Spiegal, aka Spike Jonze's brother, and is nice enough.

The thing I don't get is why or how this exists. Is this what it's like to be rich, you get to just make incredibly elaborate art projects for no reason? I kind of wish they'd built the world's biggest hoagie or something instead.

(via Boing Boing)

(Note, my plan had been to link directly to You Tube, but it's fucking up, so here's a picture of a hippo skeleton instead)

130 year old whale just called you a pussy

2007-06-13T09:42:00.000-07:00

This whale cruised around for 100 years with a bomb lance fragment in his neck. In a related story, I got a papercut from a post-it note on my desk but Isaac gave me a cookie so I stopped crying. For now.

Magic Fingers

2007-06-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

This clip is going to be pretty inescapable for the next 24 hours, please allow me to join your lemming hordes. Stella! If you've not seen the documentary, it's very amazing. Theremin (the man) married a black lady in the 40s, made a giant theremin (the machine) for ballet dancing in, and was kidnapped by the KGB. It's that kind of flick.

Elephantine

2007-06-11T10:55:00.000-07:00

In addition to paying for my contact lenses and therapeutic "massages," IODA has a snazzy service called Promonet. In a nutshell, bloggers (who now worship me as their leader) get access to tracks earmarked by our labels for promotional usage, ie free giveaways. Yay. Ba Da Bing is a nice record label run by a nice guy named Ben. Beirut are a great band, and I say that very rarely about anything that doesn't have bongos in it. "Elephant Gun" also has an enjoyable video.

Download "Elephant Gun" (mp3)
from "Lon Gisland EP"
by Beirut
Ba Da Bing!

Buy at Insound
Stream from Rhapsody

Pigs of Peace

2007-06-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize Big Eye wanted this blog to be about things we eat but i'm cool with that because I like to eat and I like to talk about myself. Yesterday was the NY barbecue festival and I finagled a free VIP pass out of a friend of mine. I spent the afternoon adrift on a sea of tender meat and icy beer. Each tiny meat-dom was ruled by a tyrannical and enormous Texan whose underlings scurried about with plates of various smoky meat treats bathed in various coatings of mysterious and well guarded origins. Such treats include but are not limited to baby back ribs, brisket, sausage, chicken, coleslaw, creole cassoulet, pulled pork shoulder, pecan pie and blessedly cold beer) . After several hours I waddled away unsteadily, my fingers sticky, my shirt ruined, my midsection turgid and my heart at peace (if beating with some difficulty). This sense of ease washed over me like so much Carolina hot-sauce as North and South came together in perfect harmony in the United Nations of my innards. I'm not saying I can fix the world's problems (especially when I'm this full and drunk), I'm just saying that meat and beer can.

Is There Anything She Can't Do??

2007-06-09T15:53:00.000-07:00

You'll be pleased to know that creepy-face J-eating champ "Gal" Sone (ギャル曽根) has finally launched her singing career. Something about this chick really weirds me out, and it's not just that she can eat 11 bowls of ramen in one sitting. Check out how mortified dude in the picture is. The science of how these freaks do it is actually quite interesting. I managed 34 years without watching an x-ray of 14 pounds of curry rice being digested by an 80 lb woman, how I do not know.

In related news, I just ran four miles and ate a giant bowl of bun at PPQ on Irving. Rehydrating with water is for suckers! A cold 33 was what gave the Viet Cong the edge, you know. And those black pajamas and sandals were truly a marriage of form and function. I would illustrate said wedding here if a search for Viet Cong in Google Images yielded something other than video game stills. I weep for our youth! Anyhoo, only the anti-fascists in the Spanish Civil War looked cooler.

On griffins and oysters

2007-06-09T14:48:00.000-07:00

As this sciencey diagram of an oyster indicates, griffins of the Jeffersonian persuasion are preferred across the board. While it is billygoats who fear my brother's 4 footed, multi-taloned attack, it is the girl-griffins who are powerless against my flowing locks and wise elder statesmanship. Just ask VH1.

Wait, does my griffin have back hair? not cool, man.

Vampire Weekend

2007-06-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

In just two short days, my blogging experiment has already devolved to this, posting about a band from Brooklyn who amalgamate the requisite disparate styles (Indie Nerd x Graceland-era South Africa, sort of), and then linking to their myspace page, no less. It's terribly cliche, I know. Chen, who knows about this and all things, says I was like six months too late and that their (reportedly excellent) live shows have long been awash with A&R types. So I'm forming my own fake highlife band, which you may join if you can play all the instruments (I am but a figurehead).

Get thither for more afro-betterness.

Billygoats the world over fear my razor sharp talons

2007-06-09T11:10:00.001-07:00

Ivan and his fancy facial hair are going to join us. This image is a good representation of our fraternity, with me as kickass half-lion, half-eagle gryphon thing, and him as pigeon with Thomas Jefferson's face on it. BTW, if you google his full name, the only thing that comes up is his filmography a hundred times, and it says on VH-1 that his sphere of expertise is "romance." Believe it, ladies!

I will eat an animal out of spite

2007-06-08T17:31:00.000-07:00

Because I am incredibly manly, I just don't go in for cutesy animal videos. So the posting of young otters in love is mitigated by the fact that otters are generally pretty cool, especially those sexy river otters. Those guys just want to have fun, and their coats are terribly sleek (unlike my poo magnet of a cat, Mimi). They rank very high, those river otters, in my Top Ten animals, which I will elaborate on at a later date. Let's just say the orangutan may make a surprise comeback after last year's award ceremony debacle.

Now sea otters, those fat shits, I'm not so into them. Ivan used to do an impression of a sea otter cracking open a clam using a rock for my grandparents when he was maybe five or so. Is it any wonder he turned out the way he did?? Sheesh.

Baffling addendum, that otter clip is like the fifth most blogged about thing in Japan last month. The entire country needs to get out more.

Farai vs Russell

2007-06-08T17:28:00.001-07:00

In addition to looking increasingly like a zombie, Russell Simmons seems like kind of a dick.

Ge Ge Ge

2007-06-08T17:11:00.001-07:00

Honestly, I don't really even remember watching all that much of ゲゲゲの鬼太郎 in 9th grade. It was much more about 北斗の拳, and to a lesser degree Dragon Ball (pre-Z), and to a far greater degree, nudity on Japanese television. Bear in mind, I was 14, and this was before we got cable in New York, or even a VCR, so my only experience along those lines had been Interludes After Midnight on Channel J at Chuma's house in like 1983. Anyways, I'm pretty excited about the Gegege no Kitaro movie.

I couldn't find any pervy links to Japanese TV in the 80s, only a treasure trove of music footage, including this, the best creepy song ever.

Blogging is hard. I'm going for a drink.

Five Minutes of Patience

2007-06-08T16:58:00.000-07:00

Can I make it through the 300 seconds of concentration required to figure how to set this up? It seems less than likely.