BLAHBLAHBLAH
Hi friends
So, as the ellipsis suggests, I'm on the fence (or Great Wall, ha) about starting a blog. But what the hell, being across the globe from the city that I consider my home is a good enough excuse to explore (longish) shortform.
[Hopefully this will eventually look like a real blog, with comments, a calendar and search functionality, at some point... but not in the foreseeable future. For now, it's pure ego.]
12/13/2009
Wordpressed
And... we're live.
Everything is now at idolizeyourkillers.com, so update your bookmarks, hide your valuables and put the children to bed, cause it's time to start some shit.
(The existing content will stay at this URL but will probably be hidden from the general public once I finally get around to re-launching whoarewho...)
12/8/2009
Design within Reach
Good news, a blog re-design is in the works; hopefully these are final days of this ad hoc setup.
The portfolio layout is good for some things, but a blog is not one of them. (I'll also acknowledge that the portfolio layout is even better when there's a portfolio, which is coming soon...er or later.)
–Readability: first and foremost, it's just hard to read (both in terms of visual appearance and irritatingly convoluted, often exhausting and needlessly periphrastic writing style). I'm thinking classic black-on-white text for the new site. The writing itself, however, will remain as pedantic and ponderous as ever, if not more so—I like to make my readers work a little bit.
–Image (re)sizing: Future layout will be bigger and will include lightbox image viewer (another easy one).
–Quote / Caption / List consistency: An easy fix; really, there's no reason I shouldn't have done this already.
–Mobile device support: I have yet to browse the site on a smartphone, but I can't imagine it looks good. This will require some work, possibly more than I care to do right now.
–Cross-browser support: Similarly, I have yet to view the site in IE. It ain't perfect in Safari either—Safari wants no part of that object.style script...
–Proper pre-loading: Probably coincides with cross-browser support.
I think I've enumerated all of the major issues, but obviously I would appreciate any reader input or suggestions. If you haven't had the balls to call me out on shit thus far, now's the time to do it.
Thanks,
Ray
12/8/2009
[Drawings]
"I had no aspirations to be a successful fine artist."
–Shepard Fairey, The New York Times T Magazine, 12/7/09
"But is it art?"
–James Franco, A Star, a Soap and the Meaning of Art
Wall Street Journal, 12/4/09
12/8/2009
Guilty As Charged
12/7/2009
"It's the zeitgeist"
So Art Basel Miami Beach sounded like the usual shitshow.
Deitch went big with Kehinde Wiley's portrait of Michael Jackson (commissioned prior to his passing), which apparently sold for $160,000.
Also of note, Sylvester Stallone put up some paintings for sale—just barely worth Google Image Searching.
Arrested Motion has excellent coverage as usual.
12/7/2009
Vandeweghe or the Highway
(Tony, this one's for you)
So as of this weekend, the New Jersey Nets are no longer winless: they lost just enough games (18) to set the NBA record for most losses to start a season and have since improved to 1-19 (going 1-1 against the Bobcats and Knicks over the weekend).
I bet they would have won yesterday's game if Yi had come back as planned.
All of which is a long way of saying that I've finally caught up with the American drama series known as the National Basketball Association. CCTV5, the sports network here, airs several games a week and it's nice to watch games in full, with the added appeal trying to decipher Chinese basketball terminology and slang. Unfortunately, live broadcasts typically take place between 8AM and noon, perhaps the one time of day when it's tough to justify cracking a beer... even if it is the official beer of the NBA in China.
Of course, I do not aspire to in-depth analysis or hard-hitting investigative reporting—my level of expertise is unapologetically vacuous and derivative. If you want something more substantial, I will refer you to Bill Simmons' recently published magnum opus. (I have yet to read it, but its one of several books I hope to acquire with my holiday windfall, as I'm sure I will receive a bookstore giftcards from unimaginative relatives. I'm excited for the footnotes, all 1,032 of them.]
Also, is it just me, or does Kiki Vandeweghe sound like some bizarro version of George from Seinfeld; cf. Koko Vandelay. [EDIT: Holy shit there is a Coco Vandeweghe. Due diligence...]
12/6/2009
Lifestyles of Health and Smoking
or, a thinly veiled metaphor for life and death
[This is the first of two long-ovderdue posts concerning sustenance and consumption.]
A friend who recently returned from China mentioned that "Cigarettes are so cheap that it's cheaper to smoke than not to", such that smoking more means you somehow spend less on food and alcohol (at least in theory). My field data suggests that this is entirely possible: the cheapest Chinese cancer sticks come in at just under 5RMB a pack, or 66¢ for twenty nicotine kisses—about 1/15th of what it costs in New York. (The gross disparity is somehow justified by the fact that there are also premium cigarettes that cost up to 100RMB [$15.00] a pack; I certainly hope that these are laced with something besides status.)
"Quit smoking early is good for your health."
As a casual fan of cigarettes—a "social smoker," as the nomenclature goes—I must say that I was rather excited at the prospect of inexpensive smokes. At first, I remained loyal to Camel Lights (at 10RMB [$1.50] a pack)—a rarity here, as they are apparently banned for a reason that I'm afraid to research; I found some "DVTY FREE" ones at a corner store, which is most certainly some kind of potentially life-threatening trickery—but I've since branched out to Nanjings, Red Eagles, Double Happiness and Baisha Blue in the same price range. (Baisha White is the bargain brand at 4.50RMB.) Not that I can really tell the difference, just trying to buy local.
(I caught my neighbor sneaking a smoke, rear-window style.)
Still, I'm not going to pretend that this is some kind of social experiment or vaguely ethical dilemma: at this point, I'm trying to addicted (which is actually harder than it sounds). I'm already up to (an admittedly welterweight) two packs a week; no more of this half-assed "trying to start" BS. My reasoning is as follows:
1. First and foremost, a deal is a deal, and I would feel like a bona fide rube if I didn't take advantage of such ridiculously cheap smokes. Honestly, I've gone through seven or eight packs so far, and it's cost me less than one pack in New York. I can't say that it's actually cheaper to smoke than not to, but let's just say that it's cheaper to be in China than not to be in China.
2. I have absolutely no problem with paying later in healthcare. (For insurance purposes, I'm a non-smoker, though I must admit I would be flattered if an insurance agent was so dedicated as to take the time to read my blog in pursuit of a more candid medical history.)
3. Everybody's doing it: I would say that about 75% of the male population smokes and the other 25% are lame. Again, if I want to live and breathe as the Chinese do, well, you get the idea.
4. a. It's a good way to pass time on long walks.
b. It's a good way to pass time at concerts.
c. It's a good way to pass time at bars.
d. It's just a good way to pass time. [Double entendre referring to premature death duly noted.]
5. It gives me something to do with my hands. (I jest, of course; I can't tell if this reasoning makes more sense or less sense now that I smoking actually does give me something to do with my hands... but frankly, it never made sense to me in the first place. Build a fucking ship in a bottle if you need something to do with your hands. Get creative and do what this guy does. Hell, the only reason I draw or blog is to occupy my idle hands.)
6. That said, I must concede that taking a drag becomes an automatic gesture, a reflex; dying from hand to mouth, in a manner of speaking. Cigarettes, at best, are an obscene caricature of our modern dependence on chemicals; at worst, compulsively sucking the cotton teat is a nihilistic appropriation—if not outright bastardization—of maternal, primordial nourishment. In other words, it's pure decadence, an instinct to self-destruction; at once a tribute to bygone artists and intellectuals and a willful denial of the future; a slender, defiant middle finger to the notion of the eternity... and I fucking love it. (I'm sure much more gifted writers and/or smokers have commented on this before, but what the hell.)
7. It's just a phase.
If that's not enough, the cornerstone of my rationalization lies in my decision to get (back?) into shape over the course of my stay here. (Was I ever out of shape? Was I ever in shape?) To this end, I've made a personal and financial commitment to the gym in my apartment complex for these two months. [Membership is relatively expensive at 200RMB [$30] a month—a fraction of the price of comparable facilities in New York, but definitely an upgrade for me, since my last gym membership was $38 for six months slumming it at Metropolitan Pool on Bedford.]
Gym clientele ranges from the skinny, awkward, clueless Asian guys to Caucasian exchange students looking to stay fit while abroad. For better or worse, I feel a stronger affinity for the latter group: though I've always tended more towards brain than brawn, I could literally run circles around (or even bench press) most of these Asian nerds—some of them show up in button-downs and khaki's, it's really quite tragic. I think of myself more as a hybrid 华人, drenched in sweat and American work(out) ethic.
There's also this one semi-jacked, middle-aged Asian dude who arrives wearing an all-black leather button-down shirt and matching pants, only to gradually strip down to a wife-beater and boxers over the course of his workout. He grunts a lot and kind of scares me; I think the gym staff feel the same way, since they keep their distance as well. SJMAAD is also one overambitious deadlift away from becoming paraplegic.
Anyway, I take a measured pride in working out six days a week (in proper attire of course), abiding by a straightforward regimen of cardio and strength training on alternate days. Of course, I can't deny that self-discipline is facilitated by proximity (the gym is in the next building over, maybe 50m away) and the value proposition... and just an iota of smokers' guilt.
In fact, in order to demonstrate that my two leisure pursuits are not mutually exclusive, I've established a conversion rate between gym performance and cigarette consumption, such that I must earn my nicotine fix through increasing numbers of sets, reps and distance. Insofar as utmost rigor is my only aspiration to science, I will refrain from divulging my opaque, arbitrary and probably altogether misguided economy of physical durability; suffice it to say that I hope to take this unfathomable calculus to my grave before it takes me there.
("No Smoking" sign & ashtray in my office building)
Unfortunately, this is becoming a zero-sum equation, as carcino- inevitably encroaches on cardio. As I increase my nicotine intake in proportion to my muscle mass, I'm losing the conviction that the extra work for my respiratory system, bouts of vague nausea and the persistent burning in my chest are signs that I am getting stronger. (I could also do without the fingertips that smell like mildewed newspaper, gums that taste like tree bark, palate like sandpaper and bizarre nicotine-induced hangovers. But seriously, I love it. I really do.)
Visceral minutiae aside, I'm not sure where this leaves me at the end of my nine-week stay in smokers' heaven. Which, if any, habit will follow me back to the States? Surely some part of me—brain, heart, or lungs—understands that the correlation between regular exercise and cigarette consumption is entirely imaginary, that my delusions of synergy and Manichaean vagaries are nothing more than the products of nicotine buzz and runners' high.
Whatever the case may be, I plan on bringing back a carton to distribute as inexpensive, obliquely cultural souvenirs, though I'm afraid my smoker friends may end up enjoying them secondhand as I attempt to wean myself off. I suppose cold turkey (insert overdue / overdone Thanksgiving joke?) and a dose of cliché New Year's resolve might do the trick.
12/6/2009
Second Coming
or, Carles, your mother is telling you to go home and blog
Is Carles is the Allen Iverson of the blogosphere?
If you care, you've probably already heard from a more credible media outlet.
If you don't care, you're probably wondering why I'm reading Hipster Runoff instead of working on real content.
Hell, I don't even care... I don't know why I keep bringing it up, I don't even read or like HRO, I'm just here to buy soy sauce.
The Chinese meme-machine is a slightly different beast, as they derive their significance largely from subverting censorship and/or outright absurdity:
–China's equivalent of Urban Dictionary
–Jia Junpeng on Juxtapoz
–Google Top Ten Lists for China via WSJ
12/5/2009
Drawings
(World Cup Draw 2010 via ESPN).
If you care, you've probably already heard from a more credible media outlet.
If you don't care, you're probably wondering why I'm reading ESPN instead of working on real content.
12/4/2009
Erase Errata
I retract my initial characterization of D-22: it could pass for a "Lower East Side hotspot". It turns out that my previous warehouse-turned-clubhouse description is far more appropriate for neighboring metal venue 13 Club, with its spacious main floor, multiple side rooms and pentagonal windows. I stopped by 13 Club last Saturday for the first (and possibly last) time before heading over to a show (pictured below) at D-22, and I must say that my musical allegiance lies squarely with the latter venue. [Footnote: D-22's address is listed as 242 Chengfu Road and 13 Club is supposedly at 161 Chengfu Road, yet in reality they're two doors down from each other, a perfect example of the irrational street numbering here.]
Also, Weezer's "In the Garage" is probably a more accurate description of this place.
But hopefully, I wasn't too far off the mark... and I have pictures now, to prove that it actually exists (as opposed to just being on other blogs.)
Noisemongers The Offset: Spectacles (who I had the pleasure of seeing again yesterday) were first up on last Saturday's bill; they're perhaps as good as a post-rock band can be without a drummer. While I respect their mastery of the tension between swirls of feedback and low-end drone, I am of the opinion that even a crappy drum machine could take them to the next level.
Avant punks 24 Hours were next up. The two chicks on guitar had chops to match the drummer as he laid the groundwork, deftly weaving between a dancy kick / open high-hat and taut toms and cymbals to complement impeccable snare rolls. Another band to watch.
Finally, 怪力 (Guai Li, or Strange Force) lived up to the hype as the unassuming female singer put on a sufficiently raw performance over shapeshifting post-punk guitarwork.
12/4/2009
DQM F/W '09 Newsprints
Any chance someone in NYC can swing by DQM this weekend and grab a copy for me? I'll repay you in Chinese cigarettes or other exotic gifts from the Orient.
12/4/2009
Culture Clash
While Americans tend to IKEA pigeonhole as the beginning and end of home furnishing for the pre- and post-grad years known as the early twenties, the rest of the world sees it somewhat differently.
In this corner, coming in at some 50-strong, we have the displaced and disgruntled creative elite of Hamburg's Frappant office building, staging an ideological protest by (re?)appropriating the showroom as a functional workspace.
And in the other corner, we have legions of workaday Chinese, young relatives and cameras in tow, drawn to the blue-and-yellow monolith purely for sport and leisure, with little to no intention of actually buying anything.
And thus, Sweden's pride and joy asserts its rightful status as a symbol for capitalism, globalization and (lest we forget) accessible modern design.
I can only speculate as to the significance of these two divergent perceptions of the überbrand:
As I understand it, the German yuppies are protesting both a proposed store (at the site of their office space) and the broader city-branding campaign that it represents: a new IKEA would not only force them out of their studios but also (rather insidiously) leverages Hamburg's reputation as a creative and intellectual community to justify gentrification. In other words, the city hopes to raise its profile by simultaneously piggybacking on and alienating its thriving creative class.
The Chinese, on the other hand, are simply piqued by the novelty of the megastore—and let's face it, there really isn't any other kind of store or novelty in Beijing—another instance of the prevalent Chinese fetishization of Western consumerism in theory but not necessarily practice.
The irony, then, is that the Hamburgers' (yes I'll admit that this post is just a long excuse to use that term) activism actually plays right into the marketing—i.e. IKEA is for creative people! cf. Apple—that they are protesting, while the Beijingers' behavior is easily more subversive: taking advantage of the showroom without any commitment to buy.
"Though frustrated, IKEA executives hope browsers like Luo will eventually turn into buyers. That's why they don't shoo anyone away for sleeping. It's the promise of China's middle class that has girded their investment here. The privately owned company operates seven stores in China, though there have been indications that profit remains elusive.
"'The brand awareness is great, but the question is, how do we get people to open up their wallets and spend money?" said Linda Xu, a company spokeswoman who rolled her eyes when she came upon a trio of slumbering customers."
–Beijing Loves IKEA—But Not for Shopping
The LA Times, 08/25/09
[Photos via *urbanshit.de and LA Times. See also: Sleeping Chinese.]
12/2/2009
NYC Beat: Drum Gets a Glimpse
[I was debating if I should just tack this on to the last post, but the Liars stand alone.] You lucky noise pop fans in NYC can preview the new album (slated for a March release) in the MPD tonight:
Liars Sisterworld listening party
Wired Store
415 W 13th St
Wednesday, December 2nd,
7PM - 10PM
RSVP (required) to: mute@mute.com
Open beer bar? You've gotta be fucking kidding me, I'll be on the next plane.
12/2/2009
Assorted Links: Non-content = Nontent?
or, More Random Shit to Stall While I Procrastinate on the Next China Post
The subway obsession continues...
Steven Holl's Nanjing Museum of Art and Architecture (top) is nearly finished. I've been meaning to check out his Linked Hybrid (bottom) in Beijing, but haven't had the chance...
I just discovered Sleevage, a blog that explores album artwork new and old. (The Animal Collective and Jay-Z entries are quite interesting and relevant as year-end list time is upon us.)
PSFK has brought an interesting phenomenon to my attention: adman George Parker cites Starbucks' unbranding experiment in his post on a resurgent (No Logo-esque) brand backlash (astute readers will note that I just read Naomi Klein's manifesto). I followed the link to Bryant Simon's essay on Reuters.com, which provides a nice rundown of Starbucks' attempt to appropriate the local, indie coffeeshop aesthetic—i.e., the rejection of its corporate encroachment and supersaturation tactics. Very interesting.
In fact, the New York Times (Why don't I just marry them?) has also picked up on this local and handmade trend, perhaps best known in its Slow Food manifestation, with some timely gift advice: local and handmade are so hot right now. Not that Etsy really needs the boost, considering its massive growth in the past couple years—which, in turn, has metastasized into a parody (2.0) spinoff site, Regretsy.
Beijing has plenty of Starbucks, but the trend here is decidedly global, factory-made and, um, dependent. Just as the subway has grown by leaps and bounds since my last visit five years ago, that timeframe has also seen the arrival of the sandwich chain Subway, just around the corner from the McDonald's and two KFC's on my block—one of which appears to be a Combination Pizza Hut & KFC. Jamaica Ave don't got shit on Chengfu Road.
Last but not least, Carles of the infamous Hipster Runoff ran off. Crazy shit. A brief essay on HRO that I wrote for the Joneses blog earlier this year, copied in full below, seems to be a rather appropriate (if not altogether prescient) obituary, if I do say so myself.
Yes Carles, you were a good blog.
12/2/2009
[Drawings]
"Since Andy Warhol, media exposure has been increasingly important and a handful of artists are celebrities of sorts. An artist’s work needs to accumulate a body of interpretation and, better still, a series of narratives about the creation of the work that brings it to life. Artists’ personalities are important to the marketability of their oeuvre. To that end, scathing reviews can be just as useful as good ones. They suggest the work has touched a nerve, violating good taste or established norms."
–A Special Report on the Art Market: How to Make Art History
The Economist, 11/26/09
On a lighter note, Wendell Jamieson's review of the Met's "Arts of the Samurai" exhibition (NYT) is intended as a half-jest, but I would leave irony at the coat check and visit any of his high-five-worthy hypothetical exhibitions in a heartbeat.
12/1/2009
Assorted Links
Nike Sportswear NSW Holiday 2009 Collection. (The Chinese happen to love Nike, myself included... which is somewhat ironic because I just read Naomi Klein's No Logo. Possibly the topic of a future post.) (HB via Starcow)
Ministry of Sound × Transportation for London × New Year's Eve (PSFK)
Looks can be deceiving: Susan Boyle slays the charts (Daily Swarm)
Nine Inch Nails is selling their gear on eBay (NIN/eBay via Pitchfork)
InBev has met its match. (Buy a Beer Company via Springwise)
Polar bears are fucking awesome (Animal NY via Daily Mail)
11/30/2009
NYC Beat: David Byrne at Pete's, Slave Nanny at Zeb's
I will dutifully mention that my friend Nick and his brother Robert (a.k.a. War Cubs and Brother Robert) are playing a concert at Zebulon [always free entry] tonight, on a bill that also features Brooklyn buzz band Hank and Cupcakes. Make it a Williamsburg night and check out a free David Byrne lecture about "Creation in Reverse" at Pete's Candy Store beforehand:
"What I'm going to talk about is an insight I've had about creation. That insight is that the context largely determines what is written, sung or performed. That doesn't sound like so big of an insight, but it's actually backwards from what I perceive to be conventional wisdom- which is that creation emerges out of some interior connection or upswelling of passion or feeling that innevitably needs an outlet. I think the passion is there, but it's largely unconsciously tailored to fit an available context and circumstance.
"I'll use music as an example, as people will believe I know something about that area. I'll propose that musical styles evolved and genres of music largely get created to fit the acoustics and social space of the places where each kind of music will be heard. Much music would never have been written if the halls and clubs weren't already there for it to be heard and performed in. That sounds obvious too, but I mean not only would there not be a place to play, but that the specific structure and sound of each kind of music is pre determined as well. I'll provide pictures and audio examples.
"Though music is an easy example for me to use, I have a feeling that this somewhat reverse view of creation happens in a lot, maybe all, areas."
11/30/2009
The Winter of This Content
I neglected to mention Beijing's climate in my first two China-related posts (where it might have been remotely relevant), but I figured its worthy of at least a brief summary: it's pretty much the same as New York. Winters see sub-zero temperatures and a fair amount of precipitation while the dog days culminate with the eighth sweltering moon; the months in-between are temperate and altogether pleasant. I should also note that it's appreciably drier overall, receiving less than half of the total rain and snowfall of New York City, which is apparently due to a phenomenon (slash doomsday device) known as the Siberian Anticyclone. As for Beijing's notoriously poor air quality, the New York Times has a nice summary here.
(November 1st marked the first snow of the season.)
Since my previous visits typically filled the idyllic post-solstice months between academic years, this marks the first time that I've been in China during the fall/winter. I must say that the gradual temperature drop only vaguely suggests the passage of the season: I've come to realize that 20+ years in the Land of the Free have conditioned me to associate the arc of holidays from October 31st through January 1st with the impending end of the year (not to mention time off from school or work). Each of these celebrations anticipates its successor as being less-than-a-month-away, imparting that uncanny sense that time is passing too quickly and too slowly at the same time.
The first two have come and gone with little fanfare—Halloween here is just another excuse for debauchery; Thanksgiving is more exclusive, confined to prix-fixe menus at Western restaurants; both holidays are mostly observed by Beijing's expat community—and I can hardly believe that it's already December. Even so, I should note that the Chinese have taken to Christmas festivities, probably in the interest of emulating Western consumer culture and staking a claim to the American Dream of commercialism. Not only were they playing (English) Christmas jingles at the supermarket the other day, but customers were humming along, butchering lyrics, and cashiers had Santa hats on.
I remain perpetually undecided as to whether this is comforting, amusing or alienating, or whether it is an inadvertent parody, misguided homage or a latent critique of Westernization and globalization. Insofar as the Chinese sense of humor is not nearly as dry as its climate, I must conclude that they're not doing it on purpose... which is the source of the ambiguity.
Or maybe I'm just reading into it too much.
11/28/2009
All I Want for Christmas
ZOMG
Subway Memorabilia & Collectibles!
Goddamn that's some good copywriting.
Other gems include globe lights and (perennial favorite) station signs, including my very own home base, Classon Ave... BIG UP Fort Greene.
Of course, Billy's Antiques at the corner of Houston and Elizabeth has been selling subway signs for as long as I can remember... but wouldn't you rather directly contribute to the MTA's coffers? Who knows, maybe selling their scraps is lucrative enough a revenue stream to obviate another fare hike.
11/26/2009
(via New York Public Library)
11/25/2009
Beijing Electro City
Well that didn't take long.
I found the new Chinese sound...
...or at least a sound that I was new to me, by way of a Chinese artist.
But first the requisite tedium of time, place, overanalysis and a dozen other tangents:
After catching La Loupe last Thursday, I opted not to see Au Revoir Simone or Rahzel (playing separate concerts—Chinese people are crazy but they're not that crazy) and take it easy on Friday because 1.) the shows were relatively expensive—150RMB [$22] and 100RMB [$15]) respectively, which sounds cheap but taking drinks and cab fare into account, would have made a relatively expensive night out; 2.) I was afraid I would go through another pack of smokes (a health concern, not a financial one; more on this shortly); and 3.) I was saving my energy, money and health for Saturday's cryptically-titled "Great Beer, Bad City" concert, showcasing China's finest electronic music talent, at 2 Kolegas, "Beijing's Hottest Dive Bar & Live Music Venue" (at least according to their website).
(You'll have to excuse the poor quality of my photos; low light, strobes, movement, inebriation and ineptitude are to blame.)
Like D-22, 2 Kolegas has established itself as a legit venue since its founding by two expats a few years back, attracting indie acts from near and far (I regret missing YACHT's Halloween show there). Also like D-22, it happens to be off the beaten path, but (unlike D-22) this does not work in my favor: 2 Kolegas is a 15 km / 25 minute / 45RMB taxis ride away, in the northwestern reaches of Beijing... in the parking lot of a sketchy drive-in movie theater that I might have mistook for a carnival. (Further explanation is clearly necessary, but will not be provided.) As with most places I've tried to find in Beijing, I found it on the second try, after a 15-minute detour down a shady side street lined with empty cabs—I had hoped they were ferrying passengers to nightlife off the main road, but this was not the case.
(iLoop)
I arrived to find a keffiyeh'd iLoop grinding out a hard techno set on his laptop. This was some heavy shit, from the relentless throb of the 4x4 beat and sawtooth snarl of overdriven basslines to the ghosts of melodies, mutilated into looped stutters and vocoded warbles, everything compressed as all hell. I wasn't averse to the intensity, but I imagine that drugs and alcohol might have helped. (Insofar as Chinese drug culture seems conservative to the point of invisibility, it was no wonder that the place was fairly empty.) It was also too early for this shit—I figured more people would arrive later but the hypothetical crowd never quite materialized.
(LIman)
LIman was nominally poppier: after opening with the telltale stabs of A-Trak's remix of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' "Heads Will Roll", he faded into harder tech-house obscurata. Like iLoop, LIman scarcely strayed from a driving 130 BPM beat, settling for dynamic regulation via filter and killswitch effects. Still, he managed to get more people on the floor, as about half of the 50 or so clubgoers left their seats for his set. If iLoop was the heavy metal of techno, LIman was grunge... and everyone likes grunge.
(Doshy)
Doshy, the night's guest DJ from Germany, picked up where LIman left off, lacing his more diverse set with a hint of funk and a touch of dubstep. He was the only performer who was not (as the joke goes) checking his e-mail onstage, opting for a hardware setup instead. Whether it was the meager turnout or jet lag, he seemed slightly off, missing several cues, though it was a nice change of pace when he varied the tempo a bit.
(Sulumi)
The crowd had thinned out to a scant dozen diehards by the time Sulumi (the long-awaited topic of this post) started his set at 1:00 AM. Thankfully, he didn't mind, cranking out a non-stop set of original 8-Bit compositions as though he were playing to a full house at Fabric. For some uncanny reason, I had high hopes for Sulumi, and he did not disappoint: I can't say that I've ever listened to 8-Bit in earnest, but his high-energy set earned him at least one more fan.
The closest reference points I can think of are Crystal Castles, Surkin's remix of Bionic Commando, and maybe Octopus Project (from what I remember; I haven't listened to them in forever). Like CC and indie-electro favorites Ratatat, Sulumi re-invents the punk / rock aesthetic electronically as Ninetendo bleeps and sine waves against a thumping techno back beat.
Even as the audience dwindled to just a few tireless ravers, Sulumi continued to thrash and twitch about his laptop and mixer. At some point in the middle of his set, a particularly infectious melody caught my ear, amid the endless sequence of chiptune motifs emanating from his MacBook. (This happened to be his outstanding remix of his own song, "Kill Me Sweetly", a Dan Deacon-worthy fist-pumper.) It was one of those singularly rapturous moments where I was instantly transfixed by an artist I'd never heard perform a song that I'd never heard—at that point, I was sold.
Following the show, I did some research and tracked down Sulumi's latest release, Chaotic Dances the Function, available as a free download (37.4MB zip file). Apparently Sun Dawei is not just a solo act but a label exec for Shanshui Records and a promoter of Shanghai's Antidote collective. The poster designs for Antidote shows are absolutely phenomenal and have apparently been the subject of some controversy; check out the full gallery here.
[A brief caveat about the EP, should you choose to download it: opening track "Sweetly" is a sort of 8-bit ballad, which is pleasant enough, but the killer remix is more in keeping with Sulumi's frenetic live show. While rest of the songs tend towards the IDM end of the spectrum, his live set was more accessible: I recall a melody that echoed some Múm song from Finally We Are No One, as well as what might have been an interpretation of Blur's "Girls and Boys", but I would just as soon credit these to Sulumi himself.]
The album version of the remix, linked below, can only give you an idea of what Sulumi is like, since it's definitely best experienced in the club setting. I can't say it's for everyone, but it's easily my new favorite song.
Sulumi - Kill Me Sweetly - 4.5MB mp3 @ 192kbps
(Bathroom tag #1)
Related:
–Blip Festival 2009 is going down in Brooklyn
–Yesterday's New York Times Opinionator features a curmudgeonly piece by composer Glenn Branca entitled "The End of Music". (My counterpoint is that I happened to be listening to Battles when I came across the article.)
–"...because I try too hard and I come off like a cunt." -the inimitable Bradford Cox, full interview at Pitchfork
11/24/2009
[Drawings]
"A lot of the artists who were reporting were telling us, ‘I live in a recession all the time, so this downturn has really not been so different for me.'"
–A Survey Shows Pain of Recession for Artists
The New York Times, 11/24/09
11/23/2009
18 Chinese Fans Can't Be Wrong
11/21/2009
Beijing Rock City
or, Music Teaches Me How to Live My Life
One of my primary concerns about leaving Brooklyn, indie rock epicenter of the world, for the relatively conservative environs of Beijing was that I would be subjecting myself to the padded walls of my existing mp3 collection while the Western world partook in the likes of new Jay-Z remixes, Major Lazer mixtapes, Yeasayer singles, etc., etc. This, clearly, has not been the case: while Piratebay, Blogspot and Wordpress are strictly off-limits, any number of other services can more or less fill this void with the mellifluous sounds of The xx and Au Revoir Simone. (I even picked up Chinese copies of the new Basement Jaxx and Calvin Harris albums at a record store.)
(Matthew Niederhauser photo via NY Times; click to see the whole slideshow.)
About three weeks ago, an errant search on Hype Machine led to a fateful click on a link to the subtly-named blog "Fuck Bad Music". I didn't find the track I was looking for, but I did discover that one of FBM's contributors, as far as I can tell, shares my situation: an American (from Portland, OR) who recently landed in Beijing. In her quest to conquer the Beijing rock scene, she finds her way to its latest, greatest outpost: D-22. The name was somewhat familiar from nightlife listings, but I finally got around to checking it out only after reading her review.
While Angel takes comfort in the familiarity of the small-ish venue, I am at a loss for an analog in New York: D-22 is slightly too big to fit the bill as a Lower East Side hotspot and slightly too nice—in that tacky Chinese way—to come off as a word-of-mouth Brooklyn 'space'. To be fair, D-22 could definitely pass for an East Atlanta haunt: the venue attracts a regular (if somewhat scant) mix of bona fide Beijing hipsters, Azn bros, fangirls and a fair proportion of curious expats, despite (or due to?) the fact that the unassuming storefront is tucked away in a strip mall several miles from the city center.
[As for the music itself, Chinese rock music is highly (and inevitably) derivative of Western rock music. Still, increasing recognition has substantiated the emergence of a Chinese sound. I actually downloaded a couple of Hang On The Box and P.K.14 albums a few years back, when I first heard that the Chinese had taken to rock 'n' roll, but (if you'll excuse the forthcoming pretension), as an amateur anthropologist, I believe in collecting ethnographic data before passing judgment—in other words, actually experiencing the subculture.]
An initial survey of D-22 suggested that the nascent scene might better be described as pubescent, given the prevalent 90's alt-rock influence. Any given song might—at best—sound like the band had just discovered Weezer; uninspired Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots or Red Hot Chili Peppers imitations were more common. In retrospect, this was actually a good sign, as it suggested that every subgenre of guitar-based music might see some play in Beijing.
Indeed, subsequent visits have attested the breadth of the Beijing's punk rock underbelly, and I must admit, to Angel's point, that I'm about ready to call D-22 home. (Almost literally: the venue happens to be just under a kilometer from where I'm staying. At an average of 30RMB [$4.50] per show, I really have no excuse not to become a fixture at the end of D-22's bar.)
Thursday's headliners La Loupe—a couple of sinophilic Oberlin grads—turned out to be quite the winsome pair, contrary to my entirely rational reservations concerning their dubious PR story. On one hand, a band billed as two white hipsters singing predominantly Mandarin lyrics (covering the usual twee territory: 朋友 [friends] and 爱 [love]... just those two things, really) is easily dismissed as a transparent, premeditated or altogether ingratiating gimmick. On the other hand, their predictable folk-duo demeanor—from self-effacing banter to use of melodica—is, at best, considered coffeeshop or college open-mic fare. [For the record, I wrote that line before came across this enlightening Oberlin Review article, which tellingly mentions La Loupe's gig at the college's student-run coffeehouse/venue.]
Yet this curious combination—Chinese lyrics in American voices singing pop melodies over simple four-chord songs—somehow just worked (I say voices and not accents because they actually spoke/sang passable Mandarin). I'm not sure if they resonated with my inner indie-kid or my inner 华人 [Google translates this as Chinaman, which I find acceptable]... perhaps they appealed my hybrid essence and, from an objective standpoint, they really are as contrived as I had originally feared.
(First result on Google Image Search for "La Loupe".)
Whatever the case, La Loupe happened to attract by far the biggest crowd I'd seen at D-22, perhaps just short of twice the audience of other (presumably lower-profile) shows. As far as I could tell, the balance consisted of expats, who, like myself, had never heard La Loupe before. (Obscure is an understatement: La Loupe turned out 0 Search Results on the likes of Pitchfork and Brooklyn Vegan. Again, the Oberlin article tells all.) Even so, it didn't take much for the legions of inebriated exchange students (is there any other kind?) to warm up to the band—by the time La Loupe had crammed a dozen two-minute ditties into their prescribed half-hour set (standard length at D-22), they couldn't help but heed the audience's chanted demand for "再来一个!" ["One more song!"].
Meanwhile, a concert last week showcased yet another side of Beijing rock: headliners Streets Kill Strange Animals were by far the most avant-garde band I've encountered here, alternating between a Television-y post-punk stutter and a dancy take Sonic Youth's poppy side (or maybe they were just channeling Beijing post-punk poster boys P.K.14). Although I appreciated SKSA for what they were—an inkling of an original Chinese sound—their experimental proclivities failed to hold the interest of an already-flagging audience, despite (again: or due to?) the fact that they play D-22 regularly.
(The me灌me)
In fact, I, too, was more taken with the second band that night, me灌me, who executed their upbeat tunes with real technical chops and showmanship. Their studied Britpop-revival aesthetic—fuzzy blues à la early Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, inflected with a Franz Ferdinand swing—was as much as I could hope for from a random band at a random gig in the heart of the Middle Kingdom.
Jaded and inflated (if not altogether skewed) New York standards aside, I must say that D-22 is the perfect place for Beijing's aspiring rock saviors to cut their teeth. For what they lack in originality, the bands seem genuinely happy just to be there: playing their music, on stage, in a dingy club, with an audience—in other words, all the trappings of a real live rock band. As per Rivers Cuomo's finite wisdom,
In the garage, I feel safe,
No one cares about my ways.
In the garage where I belong,
No one hears me sing this song.
In the final analysis, D-22 lives up to its growing reputation as Beijing's quintessential rock dive. D-22 is a rare venue where no one—management or audience, local or expat—discriminates between folk and glammy spectacle; grunge wannabes share the bill with indie poppers; there are metal nights, student nights, and student metal nights. The club's underground status only underscores its sense of inclusiveness: it feels like you're witnessing the start of something big just by being there. CBGB's it ain't, but that's exactly the point: we're forty years and half a world away.
(P.K.14 at Glasslands two days ago.)
Finally, I know it's short notice, but if you Brooklyn kids have nothing better to do tomorrow (Saturday) night, head over to Secret Project Robot for the best $8 show you will see this side of the East River. (Hell, I might not even get a chance to see P.K.14 in their own damn town.)
Beijing REPRESENT.
11/18/2009
Faceblock (and Other News)
Along with YouTube, Wordpress, Blogspot, Tumblr and Twitter (hot button of late), Facebook is among the Barbarian Hordes 2.0 lurking on the other side of China's Great Firewall.
I figure it's been exactly a month since I left the states (and presumably checked Facebook), so the nice folks in Palo Alto have dispatched the following message:
I'm particularly curious about the 233 photo tags. WTF? Can someone please investigate this for me? Also, should I be embarassed that I only have 9 messages? Does this mean that I'm unpopular?
Anyway, in other news (with regard to other nice folks in Palo Alto, as it were), the New York Times recently ran an article on an emerging DIY cartography movement, a timely follow-up to my last Beijing-related post.
Also of note: preserving Spiral Jetty and Dia Foundation's Chelsea plans.
Beijing art scene coverage to come in a future post.
11/17/2009
All's Well That Reads Well
My boy Stephen Pinker (if a contemporary cognitive psychologist whom I've studied at some length might be called "my boy") has a bone to pick with writer/brand Malcolm Gladwell. Pinker alleges that Gladwell often misleads his readers with a subtle but all-important lack of rigor, which stems from his methodology of borrowed expertise. In other words, Gladwell's rigorous approach to his own craft—social science journalism at best; storytelling at worst—comes only at the expense of the scientific method he purportedly adheres to.
To be fair, these are occupational hazards for a rogue economist and I doubt that Pinker's ambivalent review of Gladwell's new collection of essays, "What the Dog Saw", will cause more than a minor ripple, much less hurt sales. I don't think it takes a decorated Harvard professor to point out that Gladwell's work is, more often than not, a well-spun yarn as opposed to credible research.
Also, (two links away on the New York Times homepage] self-proclaimed media prostitute Megan Fox has finally attracted the classiest customer of them all: the Times itself.
11/15/2009
The Lay of the Land
or, I Assure You, BJBus.com is SFW
This is the second installment of my (admittedly verbose and highly parenthetical) chronicle of my time in Beijing:
First, a quick geography lesson: Beijing lies landlocked in the North China Plain, 150 km inland of the Bohai Sea. The city center is surrounded by a series of ring roads, loosely centered on the Forbidden City, such that the second ring road separates the dense city center from the outer districts, which stretch to the sixth circumscription. The Great Wall is a daytrip northward by bus or train. Shanghai is a daytrip southeastward by plane.
My home for these two months is in the heart of the 五道口 [Wudaokou] neighborhood in the 海淀区 [Haidian District], which constitutes the Northwest outer borough of the capital (top-leftmost marker on the Gmap). Wudaokou is regarded as Beijing's prestigious university-town area, since two of China's top universities are here, which means that 1.) I fall into the demographic of the local populace (though it's less appropriate for my aging grandparents), and 2.) the requisite amenities and nightlife offerings are nearby... not to mention the profusion of foreigners enjoying the novelty and low cost of living here for a semester.
[I am still ambivalent about the 外国人, since I probably relate to them (even the Europeans and Australians) more than the native Chinese, but I have yet to warm up to my countrymen... whoever they may be. Either way, I play it cool.
That said, I have shamelessly been taking advantage of certain establishments that clearly find a non-Chinese audience: the (overpriced) coffeeshops and gym facilities. I'm not sure whether or not my patronage of these foreigner hotspots is a dead giveaway as to my nationality—that and the fact that I drink Americanos and smoke Camel Lights while perusing English websites and drafting blog entries on my MacBook. More on this in a forthcoming chapter.]
My only grievance about Wudaokou—a plaint about Beijing in general—is that it is relatively out-of-the-way (just outside the fourth ring road): it takes over an hour to get to work on the subway and at least half an hour to get downtown. With nearly 12 million residents in 4,000+ sq. km of metro area, Beijing is easily one of the largest cities in the Eastern Hemisphere (second to Shanghai in China). Fellow New Yorkers, imagine Grand Street as one of the biggest cities in the world and you get the idea.
The subway itself—an easy metaphor for China's runaway metamorphosis in the past decade—is cheap [2RMB / $0.30 per ride] and remarkably clean but overwhelmingly overcrowded; cartoonishly so at rush hour, when herds of workaday Chinese are corralled by hapless station attendants. Transfer points, in particular, are inundated with huddled masses of commuters, despite the ample breadth of the corridors. Indeed, the obscenely large stations resemble airport terminals, right down to the X-ray scanners for bags and tortuous, multiple-concourse layouts.
(Wudaokou is the third stop north of the western terminal of the orange line. Click to see larger up-to-date Wikimedia image.)As far as service goes, the 地铁 is much more like London's Tube than New York's subway, considering that 1.) it doesn't quite go everywhere (yet), 2.) it only runs until midnight (a huge factor for nightlife), 3.) there is no unlimited ride option, 4.) touch-activated turnstiles expedite entry (though the security checks are the limiting factor) and 5.) it really is quite spick-and-span. It's also like the Grand St. B/D stop in New York: jam-packed with Chinese people (sans NYC's characteristic grime).
Buses handle above-ground public transportation, covering far more territory with more fine-grained routes and stops—assuming that you know which line to take. (I've always considered a solid command of bus lines to be the mark of a true city-dweller, and Beijing is no exception.) I have recently taken to unraveling the gordian knot of bus routes, mostly because they are incredibly cheap: typically only 0.40RMB [6¢; free for all intents and purposes] per ride. The downside, of course, is that 公交车 are both subject and object to the near-constant gridlock of the capital (though I should note that, unlike some other cities, buses clearly alleviate more traffic than they cause).
As in New York, congestion is compounded by impatient taxis, fledgling drivers abound, cyclists holding their own and, of course, pedestrians daring anyone and everyone else to hit them. Unlike New York: cars have right-of-way (an economic principle taken to the streets); there are at least as many bikes as there are cars and pedestrians; there are no medians or shoulders, only blocked bike and bus lanes; and, of course, the sidewalks are teeming with Chinese people (again, I refer New Yorkers to Grand Street). The fact that it is legal to make right turns on red lights makes an immeasurable difference for everyone involved, adding yet another healthy dose of local flavor.
It's an acquired taste for a pedestrian who is accustomed to roaming the relatively orderly, civil and altogether pedestrian streets of New York. Unfortunately, it is increasingly apparent to this diehard walker that Beijingers see walking as a mode of transportation reserved for getting to, from, or between other modes of transportation, be it bike, car, bus or train. Moreover, if, at any given time, a block or intersection actually does seem worth walking to, from, or around—namely, for nightlife, shopping or tourism—you can be certain that hundreds, maybe thousands, of locals and tourists alike are flocking there at that very instant.
Conversely, the lost blocks between the main drags, shopping districts and/or cultural attractions are half-mile-plus stretches of undeveloped ghost town, negative space between the islands of consumption. In addition to scrutinizing Google Maps and weekly walking tours around unexplored parts of town (i.e. getting lost), one of my favored pastimes is to completely misjudge a 20-minute trek into no-man's land for a reasonable five minute stroll to the next subway station.
(A walk one night ended at this cutty construction site... it's hard to tell from the photo, but this was area was clearly not for tourists. I swallowed my pride and caught a cab half a kilometer down the road.)
In fact, my total miscalibration of scale suggests a systematic error: that Beijing is simply too spread out for my taste (and, as it were, my feeble mind). Unlike American sprawlers such as Atlanta [where I lived for four years], Los Angeles and Las Vegas, Beijing's city planners have apparently been charged with the dubious task of eclipsing lesser metropolises in any and every way. Or, rather, in the Chinese way: bigger and brighter is better.
To this end, the egregiously broad avenues are a caricature of those in other (Western) cities I've called home: 12-lane mega-boulevards cardinally criss-cross the city to form a deceptively expansive grid. Whereas Manhattan is divided into manageable rectangular sections (i.e. long blocks and short blocks), Beijing is carved into irregular plots of sizable breadth and variable density, a veritable array of larger-than-life comic-book panels.
Meanwhile, interstitial streets—the countless capillaries that trickle between major arteries—are equally absurd, from Old Beijing's labyrinthine 胡同 [Hutongs] to newly-built, as-yet-unmarked side streets and dimly-lit, awkwardly narrow alleyways. These have yet to live up to their promise of hidden treasure, danger or romance.
The result is a city that is sliced into pieces that are simultaneously too big and too small, or too diffuse and too dense... like something out of Borges: at once admirable in scope and intricately detailed, but not quite anthropomorphic on any scale.
Nevertheless, navigating the city is essentially the same game on a broader playing field with different house rules. I don't mind losing myself in the city as long as I can find my way back home.
[I intended for this chapter to be a 5-minute stroll, but it somehow turned into an aimless trek into no-man's land...]
11/14/2009
Today for Lunch
Peking duck.
11/13/2009
"Jah-moose"
(AP Photo with some quick 'shopping)
Lebron's name in Chinese is just "James" [詹姆斯; zhan1mu3si1, pronounced like the title of the post], how sweet is that.
In any case, the Cavalier is mandating (or at least advocating) the permanent retirement of the number 23, which he currently shares with the Greatest. The move has been regarded as a curiously deferential form of hubris—insofar as LBJ hopes to be the last player to sport the big 2-3—as the superstar will settle for number 6 (his Olympic designation) next season.
Via Cleveland.com of all places... though I did come across this story in a Chinese paper the next day, with a headline that roughly translates to "In the Vault" or "Seal It Up" (封存).
11/12/2009
Today in the New York Times
This is the first in a series of posts linking to interesting things I find around the web. While I'm ambivalent about aggregation as a lazy way to provide content, these posts will be a secondary (albeit regular) source of material.
This Just in from the 1890s - The Style section examines the re-emergence of Late 19th-Century tweed fetishism. (Write-up for HB)
Window Watchers in a City of Strangers - I get a nice Rear Window effect in Beijing too, will post photos at some point.
Also worth checking out: Aya Takano's recent opening (to the delight of Pharrell) in the Upper East Side. (Arrested Motion)
Last but not least, scarf lust, or @IwasFramed: "Form and function, nuff said."
11/12/2009
Interlude
Whether or not it looks like yet, this is a blog and, as such, it is intended to be a record of the discursive—i.e. unfocused, uninteresting, poorly developed and expressed; altogether egotistical—thoughts of yet another lowly netizen.
Thus, readers will be subject to the usual host of diversions, cryptic declarations and otherwise extemporaneous ramblings, which will eventually constitute the majority of the content. Topics may include (but will never be limited to): art, music, fashion, sports, pop culture, philosophy, language, etc. etc. ad infinitum; all in all, a well-curated array of subjects will be addressed with incisive commentary, a trademark dry wit, unambiguous self-deprecation and an ineluctable sense of postmodern irony, oblique namedrops throughout. A proper manifesto may or may not be in the works.
In any case, I present the following food for thought while I figure out how to bypass China's Great Firewall to set up Wordpress:
Exhibit A: According to Wikipedia, 51% of the world's salt output is used by "cold countries" to de-ice roads. China, cold though it may be, is not one of these countries. Of course, as with anything that one reads on the Internet, this statistic must be taken with a grain of salt.
Exhibit B: Miike Snow is the new MGMT?
Prolegomena to a Future Blog
The flight was unremarkable: the 13 hours really flew by.
So I'll start with a quick rundown of the crucial details about my stay in Beijing, each of which is subject to further elaboration as my Adventure in Chinaland unfolds:
1.) I arrived on October 19th and will be in Beijing for just over two months. This duration, in and of itself, is significant, as it is just enough time to get a feel for a city without getting sick of it. The finite amount of time is (to use a favorite metaphor) a double-edged sword: December 23rd represents both a deadline that motivates me to explore my new territory, foreign in some ways and familiar in others, and a conclusion to I can look forward to, since the past three weeks have been more than enough time for me to miss New York.
2.) Last time I was in China was just over four years ago, in the summer of 2005. Last year's summer Olympics were only the tip of the iceberg in terms of the slightly haphazard and often over-the-top Westernization that has occurred in a short half-decade. My grandparents are older, Beijing is younger, and—just as (or maybe because) I am a different person at a different place in my life—it feels like an entirely different city. Also, you wouldn't think there was a one-child-per-family policy by looking; it's like Grand St. x 10000, everywhere, all the time.
3.) The exchange rate is roughly $1 = 6.8 人民币 (RMB), so for quick calculations, 10RMB = $1.50, 20RMB = $3.00, etc. Additionally, I have derived a conversion rate based on cigarettes and/or meals for practical purposes. Suffice it to say that living in China is dirt cheap—usually at the expense of being, well, dirty.
4.) I am staying with my grandparents. This was a choice that I made early on and would/has/will inevitably define my entire experience here [further explanation to follow].
5.) My command of the Chinese language is conversational at best. I can understand 75% of ordinary speech but my responses are limited to a fraction of that vocabulary. I am largely unable to read or write; technical jargon—about half of the news, anything related to my job—is lost on me. I've been trying to improve my 普通话, but the proliferation of English signage is an annoyingly useful crutch for someone trying to learn how to walk the walk (or rather, how to talk the talk).
6.) I am working at an aunt's media company, doing web (re)design, media research and consultation.
7.) Finally, I should note that China is 12 hours ahead of EST... which is not to say that the difference between New York and Beijing is like day and night; on the contrary, the disparity is far less stark and therefore less tangible (most of the time, at least; Roberts might argue otherwise) in uncanny and sometimes insidious ways. While jet lag lasts a few days or a fortnight at most (as was the case for me), cultural acclimation can take months, even years, if at all. One of my uncles, who has spent most of his time in the States since emigrating some 20+ years ago, claims that he can't stay in China for more than a few months at a time without returning to America to "unwind"—despite spending the first half of his life in the motherland.
More to come soon...