The Icelandic foursome known as Sigur Rós was trekking across France when they decided to make a stop in Paris at “a cafe you’d never expect to visit before the age of 60.” It ended up being a great performance if you chose to ignore the awkward/surprised stares from the elderly patrons. Jón Þór Birgisson’s voice is absolutely amazing. I love how the cafe staff people are acting as if it’s normal to have one of the most popular bands of the last several years pop in and play a song.
Ghost in the Machine: Amazing Cassette Tape Art by iri5
Who would have thought that the archaic cassette tape could be utilized to create visually stunning portraits of pop culture icons? In iri5‘s “Ghost in the Machine” art exhibit he does just that. From Bob Dylan to Jimi Hendrix to Marilyn Monroe, iri5 brings them all back to life. Take a look at the pics after the jump:
Vinchen: We Put Hedge Fund Interest Before our Children's [Graffiti]
The 6 Best Musical Performances from Late Night with Conan O'Brien
I can’t belive that it’s already been three weeks since Late Night with Conan O’Brien ended. Like millions of others across the country and around the world (Finland, I’m looking at you), I was not nearly ready for the 6’4” funnyman to go off the air. It’s not that Late Night with Jimmy Fallon isn’t funny or entertaining, it’s just that it’s not Conan. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s definitely going to take some time to get used to Jimmy and his style of comedy. So in my state of drunken-nostalgia, I put together a list of videos depicting some of the greatest musical acts that have ever appeared on Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Take a look at the list after the jump.
Throwback Thursdays: Lovecraft on a String
Speaking of fantastic terrible movies, I watched Stuart Gordon’s From Beyond _last night. It was much better than its source material—a Lovecraft short titled, oddly enough, _From Beyond—and it got me thinking about that Anglophilic old mollycoddle. Lovecraft, I mean. Not Stuart Gordon (who is neither Anglophilic nor a mollycoddle, as far as I can tell).
What is it about H.P. Lovecraft that endures? It can’t be his writing—precious and overwrought, creaky and humorless, the equivalent of faux Medieval antiques. It’s not the man himself, a caricature of the underappreciated artist muddling his fiction with talk of inferior races and his repetitive themes of indescribable horrors lurking about in crypts and mountain caves. Why does he linger then, on the edges of pop culture, much like his howling Other Gods linger on the edges of our world? Why hasn’t he faded into amusing irrelevance? Why do I criticize the man’s work and still count him as one of my earliest influences?