Blake Edwards’ film adaptation of Truman Capote’s novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s opens with Holly Golightly gazing longingly in the famed jeweler’s window. She is holding one of those iconic paper cups of cheap New York deli coffee in her hands. Dawn is quietly breaking around her, and for all her cultivated glamour, she is utterly alone on that famed stretch of Fifth Avenue. (Years later, in Victor/Victoria, Edwards poses his wife Julie Andrews in the same position outside a cafe in Paris. Freezing, starving, and anonymous, Victoria, like Holly, is also hungry for richer nourishment, deeper meaning.) In Capote’s version, our heroine leaves us much as we found her, on the run. “Never love a wild thing,” indeed. In Edwards’ Technicolor reimagination, Holly and Fred end up kissing in an alley in the rain, the poor, nameless slob of a “Cat” in their arms. Hollywood demands happy endings. And Edwards, the jaundiced populist, did not shy from them.
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In the Mean Girls universe, Norwegian pop princess Anne Lilia Berge Strand would be Public Frenemy Number One. Some girls get hated on because they’re too pretty. Others, because they’re too smart. Worse are those who are both pretty and smart. And if she happens to be popular with the boys, then you may as well call her Carrie and fetch the pig blood. On the surface, Annie seems built to order. But on the afternoon we caught up with her to discuss her long-awaited sophomore CD Don’t Stop, she had been up all night DJing, helped a friend in the morning, and stayed up waiting for our call.
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As anyone who’s followed GusGus knows, surprises await with every release. But the Icelandic collective has even more surprising surprises with its latest album, 24/7. First, there’s the Jesus-on-velvet cover art; then there’s a cameo by pop-savant Jimi Tenor. And there’s the track list, just six songs long.
24/7 is the group’s first album on Cologne’s micro-house juggernaut Kompakt, so it’s filled with darker, abstract electronic tracks instead of club hits. The video for the first single, the share-friendly “Add This Song,” takes place in a morgue and includes a fetish-friendly corpse-licking scene. Despite these quirks, singer Daníel Ágúst says that this time around, the intent was to take a break from the circus vibe the group spent the last decade cultivating. “We allow the band to go through changes and develop musically,” he explains. “When I came back, it was because I felt I had something to share.” Read More »
Ghostly artist Daniel Wang, a DJ who has been namechecked in Daft Punk liner notes, was on a bus to New York City, when he texted us from his German mobile: “still in boston with family…dont want pay roaming charges.” He was scheduled to play P.S.1′s Warm Up party the next day, along with Arthur’s Landing, an Arthur Russell tribute band. Like half of the East Village, earlier in the decade Wang moved to Berlin and became an instant fixture in the ex-pat broken disco scene. His visits to the States are frequent and fleeting, but giddy and anticipated affairs. Read More »
In Norway, size matters. “The big clubs don’t do well. They try to bring ‘BIG’ names there and it doesn’t really work,” says Rune Lindbæk from his part-time flat in Berlin. “Most of the popular DJ’s on the scene – Todd Terje, Lindstrom, etc – are the dubby DJ’s and we all prefer the small clubs.” How small is small? “150 people or so. We just came back from the Ukraine, places you wouldn’t think of, but people are dedicated.”
Lindbæk, once part of Those Norwegians with pre-Royksopp Torbjorn Brundtland, is presently a third of Meanderthals, along with UK’s disco-not-disco dons Idjut Boys (Dan Tyler & Conrad McDonnel). While Meanderthals’ new record, Desire Lines, was recorded between Oslo and London, it sounds like something out of a Malibu slumber party. After the jump, we chat with Lindbæk about disco dalliances, the impossibility of taking studio albums on the road, and the aesthetics of the Pacific Coast Highway.
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Like most of the snowbirds, I was at Miami’s annual Winter Music Conference for some sun, beach, dancing, and schmoozing. As often happens, my first night descended into a series of mix-ups: was Gui Boratto playing or not? Was I “sorted” at Danny Tenaglia‘s marathon? Fortunately, I’d caught both of them last year, so calling it a night (especially after a two-hour flight delay) came easy. Read More »
