Rawktumblr: The Reasonable Person's Guide to Supporting Music/The Reasonable Band's Guide to Selling It
In the wake of Emily White-gate, everyone has an opinion about money and music. Let’s turn those into an actual set of ethical, practical guidelines that reasonable music fans can turn to, rub their 8” beards and say, “Why yes, I do really love this band and I would like them to be able to make…
I think this may actually be the blog post that gets me to pay for music (for the first time in literally years and years).
Four-minute thesis paper on whether that “2009: Turn your contacts into MySpace friends!” ad was a resolution or a threat. Inconclusive.
THE GREATEST SCENE IN FILM HISTORY
Charlie Chaplin’s THE GOLD RUSH is a great film and a joyous experience, but every viewing comes complete with an unavoidably crushing realization: the cinema (or art in its entirety?) peaked with the dancing rolls scene. our beloved medium was still in its infancy when Chaplin shot this bit in 1925, but here we are nearly 90 years later and it still appears as if this sequence will never be topped (and i say that with all the confidence of someone who has seen Rock of Ages).
p.s. apocryphal trivia: film audiences of the 20s enjoyed this scene so much that they would often demand that the projectionist replay it several times before continuing on with the rest of the reel.
The Criterion Collection edition of THE GOLD RUSH is out on 6/12/2012
bold as to christen her Azealia Xtravaganza, but isn’t it feasible to imagine her as the mother of her own house, scion of the House of Banks? She possesses the requisite swagger, style, and welcoming aura. Does anyone doubt her ability to throw shade?
I’ve already said more than I’d planned to, but I have to again answer this question with a resounding no — because these qualities alone do not make a legendary house mother, and because ball culture is simply not interchangeable with the broader inner-city New York interests in social status, swag, or street-sanctioned oh-snapness by the sole virtue of race. Ball culture subverts race, class, and most prominently, gender conformity as a matter of public performance
and private life; it’s not just a bitchy fashion show. So far in her career, Azealia Banks has done nothing to merit any serious comparison to the culture or its queens, and I’d hate to go have fun in Barcelona tonight without challenging this well-intentioned, but terribly misled assumption. “I’mma ruin you, cunt” is not analogous to “Cunty” by a substantially wide longshot.
Well and but so.