Archive for June 2010
FP Top 5: Spy Edition
Posted on: June 30, 2010
- In: FP Top 5
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Given the recent news about Russian spies attempting to pull a “long con” on unassuming Americans, we feel compelled to reflect through pop culture. Seriously, what decade are we living in? Do we need to fear the Russians again? For now, let these songs soothe your inner sleuth during the long ride to St. Petersburg.
5. DEVO – Secret Agent Man
We avoided putting this Johnny Rivers classic on the list, because it was way too obvious. Then we remembered this jittery, post-punk rendition of the rock staple. The Mark Mothersbaugh quintet’s version, complete with stark yet dizzying synths, sets us off on our journey quite well. Found on DEVO’s stage setting second album Duty Now for the Future, “Secret Agent Man” keeps the urgency of the original, but adds trademark new wave aspects. Oddly enough, this cover has aged better than most of DEVO’s catalogue.
4. The Slits – I Heard It Through the Grapevine
This one may not jump out at you as a sleuth song, but there is definitely some sneaking and snooping going on. One of the most covered songs of all time, “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” shares many similarities with spy culture. The first line of the song should give you enough of a clue: “I bet you’re wondering how I knew/about your plans to make me blue.” There had to have been some wiretapping involved. We have put The Slits version of the song, because, you know, it’s awesome.
The Slits, I Heard It Through the Grapevine
3. Carly Simon – Nobody Does It Better
What spy oriented list would be complete without a James Bond song? The Spy Who Loved Me is a classic Roger Moore Bond film, complete with submarines, an amphibious Lotus sports car, beautiful women, ski-slope shootouts and Simon’s iconic ballad to Mr. 007 himself. Centered the awe-inspiring class of a man like Bond, “Nobody Does It Better” raised the bar for movie intros back in 1977. Also, this song will make you proud to be a man.
2. The Decemberists – The Bagman’s Gambit
This song gives hope to all you Washington romantics. Or at least it proves that people in DC can love, despite what the news says. An epic story of love and espionage set in the halls of the Federal Government, “The Bagman’s Gambit” reminds us not to fall for those who lie for a living. Although he eventually learns that he was part of an elaborate search for U.S. secrets, Colin Meloy’s character becomes infatuated with the spy who loved him in a bathroom stall off the National Mall.
The Decemberists,The Bagman’s Gambit
1. Talking Heads – Life During Wartime
“My chest is aching, burns like a furnace. The burning keeps me alive.” David Byrne shows us, as usual, that spying ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. “Life During Wartime” is a tour de force. With one pumping riff jammed over and over, Byrne and company synthesize the unpleasant adrenaline rush that comes with the job. After hearing this song, we’re glad we went to college and night school, didn’t want to be different this time.
Talking Heads, Life During Wartime
- In: Bikes
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Today we tested out the new bike lane on Prospect Park West. It is sweet.
The lane runs approximately one mile from the corner of Grand Army Plaza to 15th street. As elsewhere in the city, the green paint means cars are prohibited from entering the lane. On Prospect Park West, cyclists are further protected by a row of cars parked between the bike lane and traffic. (It’s the same deal as the Kent Street bike lane along the Williamsburg waterfront).
In the past, Prospect Park West has been a site of clashes between bikers and drivers. Now some Park Slope residents tell FP that the new lane has caused conflicts between cyclists and parents with strollers. Maybe so. But on this afternoon’s test ride, we saw no signs of strife. Cyclists shared the lanes with roller bladers and kids on scooters and parents who crossed the lane with strollers. (OK, there was one jogger in headphone oblivion. But still.)
At 11th street, signs from the lane point to Celebrate Brooklyn‘s bicycle valet parking. So when you head to the Prospect Park bandshell tonight to see Passion Pit, you can park your bike beneath a tent. Ditto for The National, The Dead Weather, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, and other Celebrate Brooklyn shows this summer.
Speaking of The National, the band provided the soundtrack for Racing Dreams, a new documentary film about three teenage go kart racers and their aspirations to become NASCAR stars. The film is now playing in Indiana and Oregon and opens July 9 in New York and July 23 in California. Check out the trailer below.
PS. If you’re riding to Prospect Park from North Brooklyn, your ride will be that much smoother thanks to new blacktop on Lafayette and Vanderbilt Avenues.
Keith Meatto is co-editor of Frontier Psychiatrist
Lost and Found: Perfume Genius
Posted on: June 29, 2010
We’ll be perfectly honest: Learning, the debut album by Seattle troubadour Perfume Genius, is likely to be lost in the dustbin of history. It contains only 10 songs. It runs under 30 minutes. There is barely a sound to be heard outside of solo voice and distant piano. In our increasingly desultory musical world, without a fresh new pseudo-category under which to file it (is it glo-fi? agit-pop? witch-house?), the record is likely to be given a few spins by rock critics, stamped with the dreaded “singer-songwriter” label, and ultimately tossed aside. Just because history might forget this record, however, doesn’t mean that you should.
Mike Hadreas (who performs under the aforementioned aromatic alias) certainly found all the right ingredients for a classic folk song-cycle: cope with an excess of personal tragedy (cf Tonight’s the Night); go into isolation (cf For Emma, Forever Ago); and record in a hurry (cf Pink Moon). After a life evidently filled with vaguely-reported tragedy (drugs were involved), Hadreas move from New York into his mother’s home in the small exurban town of Everson, WA:
In this rather lonely setting, Hadreas (who previously had little interest in recording music), rediscovered the piano and recorded his first song, “Learning:”
Perfume Genius – Learning
The song, with its haunting melody and baleful lyrical content, was the first of several to come. After streaming his work online for some time, he caught the attention of Turnstile records, which, in conjunction with Matador, released Hadreas’ debut full-length on June 22 of this year.
When heard straight through, the change of songs can be difficult to distinguish; rather than obvious changes in tempo or timbre from track to track, there is a gradual transformation of mood. From the lonely, defeated stance of the title track, to the hopeful entreaties of “Write to Your Brother,” to the ultimately resigned “Perry” and “Never Did,” one trip through the album leaves the listener with the impression of something quite affecting, quite unsettling, and quite beautiful.
Perfume Genius – Write to Your Brother
Pefume Genius – Perry
Perfume Genius – Never Did
We hope that, after being left with such an impression, you’ll want to take a second trip. Then, although the record may ultimately be lost to history, perhaps it won’t be forgotten.
(Perfume Genius can be seen in New York on July 20 at 92Y Tribeca and in Brooklyn on July 23 at Glasslands Gallery)
Ask a (Frontier) Psychiatrist!
Posted on: June 28, 2010
The world of music in the 21st century can be too distressing to bear. Can I still be cool if I don’t like Animal Collective? When did record players become popular again? What the hell is glitch-punk?
If you’re searching your soul for the answer to a musical question, send your problem to Ask a (Frontier) Psychiatrist, and every Tuesday we’ll present you with a calm, drug-free solution. Remember, sometimes a guitar is not just a guitar.
Sure, we were dejected on Saturday after the USA soccer team fell 2-1 to Ghana in overtime and ended their hopes of World Cup glory. Then we ate a consolation burger and went to see Sleigh Bells and all was right with the world.
For nearly an hour, Alexis Krauss screamed, shrieked, and bellowed like a banshee over the drone of Derek E. Milller’s guitar and a wash of electronic drum tracks. Bathed in smoke and light, Sleigh Bells played songs from their debut record, Treats, which has been in heavy rotation here at FP since its release in May. And we make no secret of our fascination with Alexis, who made our list of Top 5 American Women in music. She said little to the audience between songs, though she dropped down twice to dance with the crowd. And after the last song she threw her water bottle into the audience. We didn’t catch the plastic garter belt, but a few drops did splash our faces. Or was that just our sweat?
Alexis Krauss of Sleigh Bells @CreatorsProject
The Sleigh Bells show was the highlight of The Creators Project, a music and technology festival sponsored by Vice Magazine and Intel and housed in two floors of a warehouse in the Meat Packing District. (Crowd estimate: 40% Brooklyn, 60% Manhattan or tourist). Other highlights included The Rapture, Gang Gang Dance, and Interpol, whose sets on a loading dock stage were visible and audible from The Highline, the manicured overpass park that runs from Gansevoort Street to 34th street. We also caught a few songs from Die Antwoord, and waited on line for drinks behind Alan Palomo, a.k.a. Neon Indian, who recently made our list of Top 5 One Man Bands. We wanted to share one of our maxims of manhood: When life gives you lemons, make a Citrus Collins. But Mr. Indian was busy working his charm with a person of the female persuasion. Ah, the perils of indie stardom.
Interpol @CreatorsProject
After our long day of soccer and music (yes, we are so oppressed) we left before the not-quite-a-secret closing set from M.I.A. Oh, well. Next time.
Besides three stages of music, the Creators Project included art installations with colors and lights and 3-D effects that warranted posted warnings for epileptics. Thankfully, there were no seizures and we didn’t have to use our training in neurology. There were also laptops scattered throughout the venue, though they didn’t seem to draw much traffic. We feel their pain.
Our favorite piece was a video sculpture dedicated to the music of the xx. The exhibit replicated the technique of sound isolation used to record and mix albums. Here, three screens on columns played footage of each of the three band members performing songs from their eponymous debut, one of our favorite records of 2009. Below each screen, speakers played each band members’ vocals and instruments (bass, guitar, electronic drums) in isolation.
Oh, and there was gelato. We had the chocolate. And the mint.
(Does your inner gourmet want more? Check out K-Town Homestead.)
Many a Francophile food writer has waxed poetic on the topic of the perfect vinaigrette. The simply dressed green salad has been fetishized to such an extent that a new cook would think it was a herculean kitchen task, like deboning a turkey or making your own soup dumplings. In reality, any salad dressing is a five-minute-or-less activity and the results are infinitely superior to the goopy, overly-sweet bottled products that line supermarket shelves. Making your own salad dressing is an easy way to punch up your culinary street cred. Once you get the basics down, you’ll never drop 5 bucks on Newman’s Own again.
(Music Before 1990)
Last week, Frontier Archaeology did not make it to press. We had planned to post after a day-long drive from the shores of Virginia back to Brooklyn, but sadly we were marooned on the Goethals Bridge for 3 hours as part of an epic traffic-jam-ageddon. (For those of you unfamiliar with the mid-Atlantic region, the Goethals connects two of our most prized American treasures). Suffice it say, this particular author could have used his own personal Frontier Psychiatrist to survive the experience. But, we were not the first people to suffer on the highway, nor are we the first to be inspired by it. So today, we happily bring you a set of songs inspired by the (not-always-so) open road. Throw ’em in your 8-track.
Janis Joplin (via Kris Kirstofferson and Fred Foster) – Me and Bobby McGee
Tom Waits – Ol’ 55
Kraftwerk – Autobahn
Bob Dylan – Highway 61 Revisited
The Flying Burrito Brothers – Wheels
The Hondelles (via Brian Wilson) – Little Honda
In 2010, if it’s not a duo, it’s not a band. The FP staff will be seeing its favorite duo-of-the-moment Sleigh Bells tomorrow at the Vice-Intel sponsored Creator’s Project kickoff, and we can promise you’ll be hearing more about that. Last night, however, a lesser-known but equally outstanding duo hit Brooklyn club Warsaw as part of the Northside Festival. The Hundred in the Hands are rising like Cliff Hangers, and chanteuse Eleanor Everdell may have what it takes to steal our heart from Alexis Krauss (it’s time to make your move, Alexis). Below, see two recent performances by the band for Spinner.
The Hundred in the Hands – Tom Tom
Vodpod videos no longer available.The Hundred in the Hands – Dressed in Dresden
Vodpod videos no longer available.
It was tough to focus on music this week, between the arrival of summer on Monday and so much activity in the world of sports. With minutes to spare in stoppage time, the USA soccer team beat Algeria 1-0, thanks to a goal by Landon Donovan that made our Irish breakfasts taste even sweeter. And speaking of “extra time,” John Isner and Nicolas Mahu battled through history’s longest tennis match: 11 hours and 5 minutes.
Flush on sports and falafel, three FP staffers caught the Punch Brothers Wednesday night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg for a set that included not one, not two, but three encores. Chris Thile and friends played tunes from Antifogmatic, which we reviewed last week, as well as a selection from their 2008 opus “The Blind Leaving the Blind” and covers of Radiohead, The Strokes, Fiona Apple, and Of Montreal. Perhaps our favorite moment was the cover of “Icarus Smicarus” by Welsh rockers Mclusky, shown below at New York’s Living Room.
And, speaking of covers, here’s guiltiest-of-pleasures Passion Pit covering a song by some 90s band:
Passion Pit – Tonight, Tonight (Smashing Pumpkins Cover)
Also in Brooklyn, the Northside Festival kicked off Thursday and runs all weekend. To catch the next indie bands before they hit, read our festival preview, then get out there this weekend and catch some shows. Here’s the full schedule.
Meanwhile in Woodstock last night, Frontier Revivalist caught Dweezil Zappa’s homage to his late father, Frank, at the Bearsville Theater. This summer, the venue is hosting everyone from Pete Seeger to young acts like The Low Anthem. Sure, there were a plenty of old timers at the show, dubbed “Zappa Plays Zappa.” But there were also some parents with teenagers in tow, perhaps eager to show them the true meaning of the phrase “freak out,” the title of Zappa and the Mother of Invention’s first record in 1966. Dweezil didn’t play any of that material last night, but when you are faced with a catalog over 50 records spanning 30 years, something’s got to give.
Finally this week in indie godfather land, Rivers Cuomo announced a collaboration with Ryan Adams, who has been busy mastering unreleased material. Cuomo says the song will appear on the next Weezer album.
That’s all for today. Tomorrow, we’re headed to The Creators Project to join the “brightest young minds in music, art, film, and design.” Their words, not ours.
But first, we’ll be rooting for Donovan, Dempsey, and the rest of the USA soccer team. And we won’t even pretend this one is an editorial meeting.
Even in a profession lousy with hard drinkers, Ernest Hemingway stood apart as a man who could put down a drink or two. We’ve already written about the cocktail contributions of his Lost Generation cohorts in Paris, but Hemingway’s drinking was world-wide. In between running the bulls, hunting big game in Africa, and reporting from a war-torn Europe, Papa Hemingway spent a great deal of time in Cuba, where he maintained a residence for over twenty years. Four of his dogs and innumerable of his cats are still buried outside of the house, known as the Finca Vigia.
The humid languor of Havana required a different kind of refreshment than the boulevards of the Parisian arrondissements. The drink of choice in Cuba was the Daiquri. Consisting essentially of lime, rum, and sugar, the daiquri, together with caipirinhas and mojitos, is a direct descendant of grog, which was consumed in vast quantities by sailors, pirates, and those who plied the waters of the Caribbean. The limes prevented scurvy and the rum… well, it’s no secret that the Royal Navy was kept afloat by “rum, sodomy, and the lash.” In Havana, however, the daiquiri became a bit of an art form, no more so than in the hands of Constantino Ribalaigua Vert, the barman at El Floridita, who made a variety of daiquiris, but No. 3 on the El Floridita menu was Papa’s favorite.
El Floridita Daiquiri No. 3
2 oz. light rum
1 oz. fresh lime juice
splash of fresh yellow (not pink or ruby red) grapefruit juice
¼ oz. marashino liqueur
¼ oz. simple syrup
Place all ingredients into a blender with a half-cup of cracked ice, blend until just mixed, pour into a chilled cocktail glass. Alternatively, this drink is also good served up.
For those who are used to frozen drinks sweeter than an all-syrup Kwik-E-Mart Squishee, upon tasting a classically-made daiquiri the question may arise as to why such a dry (i.e. non-sweet) formulation? Well, as Hemingway said: “If you drank that many with sugar it would make you sick.” Natch. When not sitting down to a fleet of sixteen of them in a single afternoon, feel free to add another half-ounce of simple syrup to yours as taste or your guests may require.
Now, in general a “frozen cocktail” makes about as much sense as a “Tory Marxist,” and they are best relegated to the early-bird specials at Dallas BBQ, but this is one of the few drinks for which exception is made, especially when it gets too hot to do much but drink. But in Havana, the poor souls can’t even relieve their boredom with a bracing game of Spanish-edition Monopoly, simulations of financial domination having been banned in Cuba due to their promotion of decadent capitalist values. That said, I’d gladly trade Monopoly for Cuban rum, which is unavailable in the US, but see European duty-free. In any event, we haven’t embargoed daiquiris, so whip up “el favorito de Hemingway,” and enjoy.
Drink up,
Frontier Psychiatrist 
