May. 29th, 2009 01:57 am
jacktellslies: (crow)
A dear friend of mine who happens to be, among a great many other things, a composer and rock star is participating in a contest to remix a new Depeche Mode song, and I thought you might like to hear the results. He submitted two entries. The first is an attempt to re-imagine the song as having originated at Depeche Mode's peak, and is quite good. The other, however, is my favourite, and in my opinion it's simply breathtaking. It's an a cappella four-part fugue and chorale. There are hundreds of other entries, too, if you'd happen to be in the mood to listen to variations on recent Depeche Mode for a few hours.

Apologies for spamming on his behalf, but apparently the contest is determined in part by how many people click the "spin it" button next to the track. So, if you enjoyed either or both, might you be so kind as to click it? Unfortunately you must register with the site in order to do so, but it only takes a moment, and you'll be Supporting an Artist without actually having to spend any money or haul amplifiers around.
jacktellslies: (jeanne mammen)
Forgive me if it seems out of character, but I happen to be quite fond of the high-five. My favourite variety shall always be the awkward miss, as when two nerds at the end of an eighties film swing wide and then laugh jovially while the film slows and an enthusiastic pop song starts to play. I'm also fond of the shockingly strong ones that demonstrate that one's partner in the high-five has researched the physics involved. A truly masterful high-five, by the by, can be achieved by aiming for the other person's elbow. Try it. The results are magnificent. You're guaranteed at least one exclamation of, "Damn, girl!" out of every five.

My pretty paramour, when presented with my enthusiasm in this matter, is kind and wise enough to do me the service of reminding me that the high-five is distressingly American. And in an attempt to educate me, he demonstrates the correct response to such things: properly terrifying British disdain.

Unfortunately, there are (and I really am sorry to say it) so few things that I love about American culture that when I find one I cling to it. Peanut butter, for example, can send me into ecstasies.

And so, in celebration of this venerable American institution, may I present the Andrews Sisters, who have been teaching us the etiquette of shaking hands like black people for decades:

On the Andrews Sisters themselves: simultaneously gawky and sassy is not a combination one tends to see in modern popular music. It's our loss. And of course, bonus points will always be awarded for tap dancing with sailors.
jacktellslies: (Default)
Apologies to those of you who have already seen it on BoingBoing, but this video about an American travelling and playing the accordion in Afghanistan is glorious:

If I don't learn to play the accordion soon, I will surely die.
jacktellslies: (Narcissus)
Ben got older, so I took a train to his house, which was made entirely of women and nearly empty bottles. His new ladyfriend, a curvy thing with red hair and perfect lips and exquisite taste in hats, was introduced to society. I took up a new sport, and every time Ben left the room convinced new combinations of girls to take over his bed. The boys who stumbled into the room stood around looking nervous, but Ben and I, being gentlemen, were usually invited. I wandered the night with Beth. We got lost and were followed by packs of dogs. I sliced up my hand, anointing suburban streets with my own holy blood, terrifying the uninitiated. We kissed in the rain, under a bridge, against a church. The next morning the three of us were listening to music in his living room, singing to one another, hugging, dancing. It was saccharine but perfect. I'm in love with all of us, with these moments. We do nothing but bathe and praise the Fort, inventing and reinventing self-referential mythologies, building Babylon in a former Chinese restaurant in South Philadelphia. We have an anthem now, Psalms, a flag, auxiliary troops, and our parties are all exactly like this:

Elephant Gun )
jacktellslies: (emma goldman)
Is there a community or feed or other such thing that tracks revolutions and uprisings and demonstrations and strikes around the world? If there is not, should I make one? If I did, would you join? More importantly, would you contribute?

How does one learn to be better at being poor or existing outside of capitalism? I am aware of Steal This Book, although I've not read it yet, but I've not heard of much else.

While I'm asking, are there any good bands or podcasts or other such things I may not know of yet?

For now, please know that In Chile, Students Clash with Police.
jacktellslies: (Default)
People are drunk in my livingroom, but I'm upstairs and quiet, working on a mix that is meant to be for Terrance, but keeps turning into one for someone else.

I've a lovely day planned for tomorrow: I'll make Dover sole for the first time for dinner, and we'll visit the cool kids' club the lovely piercing and tattooing place where Parker would like to get a second job, and then there will be drag kings, and possibly friends. (Let me know if you'd like to join us for drag kings in west Philly tomorrow, by the way.)

And the only thing that could possibly be better than all of that is the news I just received. Philadelphia is one of my favourite places in all the world, but it is nothing at all, now, compared with what it could be.

Oh, good God. I've not listened to Elton John in so long. There are words I barely remember, so it is familiar and new all at once. He's perfect. I don't know what to do with myself.

My dearest Meredith,

My email isn't quite working, tonight. Also, I would seem to have lied: these are not all circus girls. Some of them are men, and one of them is probably more of a woman than a girl. I hope that you enjoy them anyway, and I also hope that you get whatever you like for breakfast every day for the rest of your life.


This is my one-thousandth livejournal entry.


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