See what’s been holding my interest lately in music, film, books and hip places.

 

MUSIC

 Erin McKeown – We Will Become Like Birds

Erin McKeown is one of my favorite singers, just as much for her approach to making music as for her music itself. She challenges herself. Birds, a breakup album in concept, is a perfect reflection of that: musically, the genre-ADD multi-instrumentalist focuses her sound on a powerful electronic rock-pop with reverb-laden guitars, spacey keyboard fills, and syncopated drum beats; lyrically, she grasps for the understanding, closure and hope that we all search for during phases of intense sorrow, and both fails and succeeds at this attempt throughout the course of this album. She’s pulling that old “trick yourself into being okay until it’s not a trick anymore” act. You don’t have to be working through a breakup to benefit from this album. Even if you’re just having a shitty day, Birds motivates you to charge forward—and also forgives you if you just want to say “fuck it” and sit down wherever you are to have a beer…if you know what I mean.

 

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Real Emotional Trash

In the past, I’ve found this former-Pavement-front-man’s music to be stimulating, inventive, lyrically sophisticated, and a bunch of other lauditory things as well. But I didn’t really like it much. It was a bit too exploratory for my tastes. Not the case with his latest release. There’s still a lot of intricate stuff going on, and sometimes the band seems to lose course in the tunes. But the deep, growling percussion work from former Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss provides a sturdy backbone for Malkmus’ distracted, psychedelic rock guitar and mercurial melodies, making Real Emotional Trash actually rather enjoyable to listen to. For most of the tracks, anyway. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aimee Mann - @#$&! Smilers

 Check back in June for my official review in the In Print tab .

 

Tom Baxter – Skybound

This guy makes clichés so darn sexy, I don’t know what to do. Case in point: in “Tell Her Today,” he sings mawkishly of love and love lost with trite lyrics and schmaltzy, elongated phrasings. Underneath, a typical tango rhythm on the classical guitar sets up a “Sex and the City” theme-like piano lick.  He does the same thing with different genres or styles in “A Night Like This” (lounge jazz), “Skybound” (Sting-like exotic rock), “Half a Man” (moody slow rock with impressive Jeff Buckley-like warbling), and “Icarus Wings” (dramatic, orchestral folk). Just goes to show how powerful clichés can be if you do them right. Part of the time, anyway. Skybound is one of those albums where half the tracks are yawns, and the other half are the most affecting tunes I’ve heard in moths. I might explode if I listened to a full hour of pieces as emotional as the five I mentioned, though, so this works for me.

 

Girl in a Coma – Both Before I’m Gone

If I had heard this album when it cam out last May, it would’ve easily made my top 20 albums of the year. Maybe top 10. You all know that friend who gives off the “screw the world” type of presentation and impression, but who on the inside is actually very sensitive, considerate and emotional. That’s the type of pop-punk album these three girls from San Antonio created. It’s a collection of their best tunes from six years of touring. Both Before I’m Gone is a danceable, fierce, fist-pumping debut, but at its core, it is sweet, intimate, and even a bit fragile. (Like every punk girl I know.) Lead singer Nina Diaz’ vocals are a ton more mature than the 19 year-old would lead you to believe (she’s 20 now), capturing a deep guttural rumble one minute and then tactfully softening and pulling back, like a kite headed on a nose-dive only to suddenly catch a caressing gust of wind. (And interesting tid-bit—the title is the girls’ twist on a piece of James Dean wisdom: “Being a musician is hard. Being a human being is harder. I’d like to be both before I’m gone.”)

 

 Nico – Chelsea Girl

I began listening to Nico’s solo work after Margot stepped off the bus to meet Ritchie in The Royal Tenenbaums and the crystalline guitar intro of “These Days” chimed in. One of the greatest song placements in a movie ever. This is the chamber-folk debut album from the androgynous-voiced, model/actress/Velvet Underground member/singer-songwriter. Clean-cut and folky electric guitars balance richly against orchestral dalliances: dramatic quarter-notes on the strings; a flute trickling down arpeggios; and interspersed ornaments and trills. Chesea Girl is kind of a comforting end-of-the-day coda to a day of McKeown’s Birds, where you imbibe in your melancholy, sink into your bed and, although you know you’ll wake up the next morning to face the world all over again, for the moment, just explore your sadness.

 

BOOKS

Autobiography of a Face – Lucy Greely

 

FILMS

Ma Vie en Rose

Not the award-winning ‘07 flick on Edith Piaf (although that’s highly recommended as well). This is a Belgian film about a seven year-old boy who struggles to convince his family and friends that mentally and emotionally, he is in fact a girl. In small ways, the film reminds me of “Juno.” Both rely on a mix of fantasy, exaggeration, harsh reality, humor, social commentary and everyday human struggles. The main difference is that “Juno” grossly overdoes some of these elements and kind of becomes a mockery at certain points. Me Vie en Rose (“my life in pink”), on the other hand, is balanced, tender, and utterly delightful. And for an added benefit, the kid actors in this film—and there are a lot of them—do a surprisingly exceptional job. One of the better films I’ve seen in a while.

  

HIP PLACES

 

The Counter – franchised (SoCal: Santa Monica, Irvine, Palo Alto, San Jose)

Here’s the deal: upon entrance into this seafoam green “diner”—where the servers are skinnier, cuter, and peppier than any diner waitresses I’ve seen—you are handed a mini pencil and a clipboard listing options for your sandwich. Your choices include: a beef, veggie or turkey patty in three different sizes; up to four “regular” toppings ranging from tomato and jalapeños to dried cranberries and corn & black bean salsa; optional toppings like avocado or chili for an additional dollar each; ten cheeses; 18 different sauces, such as a caramelized onion marmalade or peppercorn steak sauce; and what type of bun, if you even want one at all. You can find plenty of beef patties tastier than The Counter’s (and for a more reasonable price—a regular concoction here will set you back $9), but the veggie and turkey patties are pretty good. The experience—and grabbing a meal here is just as much about experiencing The Counter as filling your tummy—will lead to internal combustion for the indecisive (me), an epic and ultimately nasty dinner (my ridiculously audacious and muscle-building friend ordered a beef burger with bacon, hard boiled egg, and ham), or something that will satisfy nearly any craving imaginable. Even for something a bit healthy. Stop in before the end of the month and try their Moroccan Salmon sandwich with eggplant.

  

The Edison – Downtown

Honestly, even after thinking about it for about five days now, I’m still not sure whether I like this place or not. The classy lounge/bar is tucked away in an alley off 2^nd Street in the 1910 Higgins’ Building, of which the architects maintained the original structure and layout. Plus one point. You wait for anywhere from 5 to 35 minutes to be let in by a smug bouncer in black, as long as you’re following their somewhat-strict dress code. Minus one point. You walk past a snazzy little smoke room with modish couches and chairs where a guitar player is singing acoustic R&B jams. Plus one point. Then make your way down the mid-room staircase to a massive, dark red room with high ceilings and black-and-white films projected onto the walls where trendy young things sink back into leather chairs tucked into every nook and hidden room in the place, and sip on fancy drinks like The Hemmingway (absinthe and champagne) and Charlie Chaplin (apricot brandy, sloe gin and lime) for $11-18 (how can young Angelenos afford this stuff? No really, I and my landlord need to know.) Point system dismantles, followed quickly by your pride. Snootiness abounds at The Edison, indeed. However, it’s not nearly as pretentious, untouchable or expensive as other lounges in LA (the regular well drinks and beer are moderately priced). And the ambiance—industrial-chic 1920s decorations including a mock boiler-room and servers with period-appropriate uniforms—is enriching and sophisticated. It’s something to be seen at least once, and best for big group gatherings rather than small duos or trios. I’m definitely heading back for their 35 cent martini Thursday afternoon if nothing else.