a little rant on rolling stone.

in the spring of 2008, i was one of the dozen or so interns trying to sneak their foot in the ever-slamming door of the editorial department of rolling stone magazine.  i had worked my way up to this since the summer before my sophomore year of college: hopelessly naive, i had sent my resume off to wenner media in a huge manila envelope along with a cover letter that probably read something like "i dig music and i am different hire me please."  needless to say, i didn't get the editorial internship then, but i did my time at a theatre trade paper, the [then] poor man's esquire for the bro set which has since morphed into a hip-hop publication with tarantino-esque photo spreads, and the now [sadly] folded men's vogue over at conde nast.  i applied for an editorial internship at rolling stone while still making photocopies and transcribing interviews at men's vogue [which i loved], went in for an interview that afternoon and scored the gig sometime in the middle of november.  i was ecstatic.  i've been reading rolling stone since childhood and "almost famous" solidified my desire to work in any capacity for the publication responsible for defining rock journalism.  the gist: i fucking love rolling stone for what it stands for, what it's accomplished as a pop culture force to be reckoned with and for the unapologetic editorial content that's remained consistent since the inception of the magazine.

WITH THAT SAID: i understand and often agree with the sentiments and gripes which seem to dominate any conversation regarding jann wenner's rock n' roll baby.  "it's irrelevant.  we get it, rolling stone, you got a major hard-on for bob dylan and bruce springsteen.  write about someone else who's, uh, releasing SOMEthing this year." "they put the girls from the hills on the cover. THE HILLS. are they fucking serious?" "whatever dude i just read pitchfork."  i've piped up in the defense of rolling stone in several of these interactions:  i was just as nauseated as the last person when i saw frilly panty-clad heidi montag and lauren conrad posing a pillow fight tableau on the cover of RS, but jason gay's story was a compelling commentary on american consumerism and entertainment and how definitions of fame, fortune, talent and the core of creativity have changed.  i don't agree with half of pitchfork's reviews and rarely read it, though i will concede that they trump RS with their incredible online presence and self-imposed authority on live acts and independent music in the united states.  you can bitch and moan and complain about how rolling stone has lost touch with its initial mission and how editorial judgement may or may not have determined the death sentence for the iconic magazine, but you can't deny that it's still there.   i maintain that jenny eliscu is one of the most talented writers to ever hit the masthead over there and i think that austin scaggs is capable of relating to musicians and fans from all walks of life and that vanessa grigoriadis works like a dog to get an expose out.  you can't deny that.  rolling stone is rolling fucking stone and that's just it, man.

where's this all going?  while i was still at RS the decision had been made that the magazine would shrink from its standard tabloid pages to a smaller more eco-friendly size.  kudos, RS, right?  i was kind of bummed about the size change, but i got it and applauded them for the change.  fast forward to this week, where i picked up the new issue with kings of leon on the cover and noticed this:

i don't know if you can see this from the picture, but it's FUCKING. TINY.  the latest issue clocks in at a measly 74 PAGES.  it's smaller than current issues of people magazine, for christ's sake.  and BOB DYLAN, AGAIN, gets the first headline on the cover.  there's good stuff in there, don't get me wrong, but rolling stone, 74 PAGES?!  you're a biweekly! is there some huge issue coming up in the near future that's required more editorial attention?  i don't get it. this is the magazine that discovered annie liebowitz, revolutionized the interview and transported readers from the couches in their living rooms to the dressing rooms, hotel lobbies and stage doors that were passed through by the most notable musical acts in modern american history.  it makes me really sad to think that this magazine that i've loved so much is slowly disintegrating before my very eyes. 

rainy day mixtape tiiiiime.

image courtesy of the posh peddler.

songs that i'm listening to on repeat when it's galoshes and umbrella time:

+we are not a football team, minus the bear: because it's good for walking on the sidewalk and splashing through puddles on accident.

+dreams old men dream, cold war kids: because it's a perfect blend of discordant and comforting.

+fidelity, regina spektor: because you need something chipper if it's real, real nasty out. that, and i recently re-discovered spektor's 2006 release and have subsequently re-ignited that torch i'm carrying for the piano playing empress of the east village.

+skinny love, bon iver: because yeah, this may be the quintessential break up song, but this heartbreaker is the definition of melancholy. also, it sounds best when you're inside and there's one of those awful cinematic moments brewing where you look out a window that's being beaten by raindrops. [well helloooo, emo. haha.]

+silver lining, rilo kiley: because clouds have to dissipate SOMEtime.  also, rilo kiley is the best for combatting nasty

+lost coastlines, okkervil river: because this song would be PERFECT to listen to if it stops raining when it's still light out and you can see the sun reappear.  PERFECT, i say.  don't believe me?  try it the next time you're walking down mass. ave. in the rain, or, preferably, over one of the bridges, and tell me it doesn't make you love your life.

+beast of burden, the rolling stones: because it's gentle, sad and ever-wanting. (also because it is my favorite rolling stones song, ever. ever ever ever.)

+dance dance dance (live), lykke li feat. bon iver: because a) live recordings are so much better than the studio track, in my book, anyway and b) this song is great and pairs two of 2008/2009's heavy hitters in a bubbly, big energy number.  this may inspire puddle jumping a la age 5.  many thanks to dan over at amfmpm for sharing the goods; head over to his blog for an exclusive listen.  (also, amfmpm is just great in general and you should check it out anyway.)

+santa maria da feira, devendra banhart: because this is another uplifting ditty whose chipper attitude transcends language barriers. (the lyrics are en español. amor.) i know i've swooned over banhart before, but gimme a break and give it a listen.

+thick as thieves, weak end with no end: because this is another gritty but pretty track which reminds all of us that it's gotta get a little murky before the light.  i like cambridge, i like these guys from cambridge, and i can't wait to see them and hear this song live. preferably in cambridge. they ARE playing upstairs at the middle east in april, so we'll see.

what're you guys listening to when the weather outside is frightful and you've got no fireplace to make you feel delightful so you turn up the volume?  share.

love/hate: st. patrick's day.

reasons why hil loves st. patrick's day:

+ this is the only day of the year where i can actually do an irish car bomb and be excited about it.

+ i look good in green, which makes dressing for the festivities easy.

+ my dad's family is kind of old school north shore proud to be irish american and he's making corned beef and cabbage tonight and he's all cute about it.  i can't go for dinner, but it's sweet to see him get all excited.

reasons why hil hates st. patrick's day:

+ this is the only day of the year where i can actually do an irish car bomb and be excited about it.   (yes. i know that i wrote that twice.)

+ i will punt a small child/puppy/something else wholesome and good if i have to listen to the dropkick murphys' "shipping up to boston" or "the state of massachusetts" ONE. MORE. TIME.  i will beat a stranger into submission with my bare hands if i have to listen to them trying to wail either song on the T/on the bus/in the general vicinity of my apartment.

+ overhearing the following in line at the coffee shop, on the t, at the grocery store, and most assuredly at the bar later: "OH MY GAHD DOOD I'M SO IRISH.  I'M 110% IRISH.  110%. LIKE SO WICKED IRISH. LIKE I KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO DANNY BOY AND I DRINK GUINNESSS LIKE WATER AND "BOONDOCK SAINTS" IS MY FAVORITE MOVIE DOOD AND I HAVE A SHAMROCK TATTOO FOR MY HERITAGE BECAUSE I'M SOOOO IRISH. MY LAST NAME IS Mc-/O'- SEE I'M MORE IRISH THAN YOU ARE."  you are not from ireland.  your parents were not from ireland.  i highly doubt your great great grandparents were irish, you tool.  i bet you're about as irish as i am at best, and even though i have so many freckles that it looks like someone threw mud at me through a screen door, i'm not gonna parade my "heritage" around suffolk county to impress randos and try to get laid for love of the republic.  jump off the MGH bridge, brah.  or go back to the suburbs.  i don't care.  stop existing.  you give my city a bad name.

+ nothing good can come from this holiday except for an upset stomach from corned beef and cabbage and a blistering hangover.  three years ago (when i was still in college and therefore didn't know better, c'mon), i woke up the morning after st. paddy's on a balcony in astoria with a shamrock painted on my face.  no one needs that. ever.

so, for those of you looking to avoid what's sure to be an incredibly unpleasant scenario, avoid the following bars/neighborhoods tonight:

1) faneuil hall/causeway street/the north end.  any bar (the purple shamrock, the bell and hand, kitty o'shea's, emmett's, hurricane o'reilly's) that's anywhere near faneuil hall.  this goes without saying.  any self-respecting bostonian avoids faneuil/government center like the plague anyway when it comes to nightlife and st. paddy's day is hardly the day to make this mistake.  lines, college kids and cover charges? hellllllll no.

2) landsdowne street.  do you want to get puked on by some sorority girl from one of the colleges of the fenway who can't match her brah of a boyfriend baileys shot for baileys shot? do you want to get shoved around by drunken buffoons in scally caps only to get punched in the teeth by one of them in front of the cask and flagon?  i didn't think so.

3) the intersection of brighton ave/harvard ave in allston.  i don't mind the bars in allston on the week nights when it's a bit more chill and especially during the summertime.  with that said, two that i refuse to ever go to are the kells and the joshua tree. (j-tree isn't on brighton ave, it's actually on comm, but it's close enough.)  expect to see/hear a lot of drunk girls crying on the sidewalk because the bouncers took their fake ids. 

4) southie.  don't be stupid.

whoooa.  that's a lot of saint paddy's day hate.  sorry for the negativity, guys, but i had to get it out.  should you chose to frequent one of the previously mentioned establishments this evening, get housed before you go.  it's the only way you'll enjoy it/make it out alive.

erin go bragh,

hil.

i love this song.

the happy things list is still totally in effect, but for some reason this song can't get out of my head today.  i've been listening to the avett brothers for a couple of years now and their 2007 release, emotionalism, is one of my favorite albums of all time.  the following performance by seth avett is of one of only songs ever that actually move me to tears.  (you won't know the other ones unless you know me really well, and even then there's some guesswork involved.) "the ballad of love and hate" probably tops the list of the most beautifully tragic and gently heartbreaking ballads i've heard, ever, and the lyrics to me are pure poetry.

so, without further ado, here's the words to the avett brothers' ballad of love and hate.

Love writes a letter and sends it to Hate:

“My vacation’s ending, I’m coming home late.

The weather was fine and the ocean was great,

And I can’t wait to see you again.”

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.

“No one here cares if you go or you stay.

I barely even noticed that you were away.

I’ll see you, or I won’t.  Whatever.”

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.

The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes

And everyone knows it whenever she flies

And also, when she comes down…

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.

Every stranger and drifter he greets,

And shakes hands with every loner he meets

With a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.

Carrying with her the good things we know:

A reason to live, and a reason to grow,

To trust, to hold, to care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car,

Without much regard to the moon or the stars

Lazily killing the last of a jar

Of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi; a young man drives.

As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.

But tears follow after at the end of the ride

‘Cause he might never see her again...

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.

He screams o’er the sidewalk and into the drive.

The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,

And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.

Just wanting a phone call, or some kind of sign.

That the one that she cares for, who was out of his mind,

Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door:

Weary head hung down, eyes to the floor.

He says, “Love, I’m sorry.”And she says, “What for?

I’m yours, and that’s it, whatever.”

“I should not have been gone for so long.

I’m yours, and that’s it, forever.

You’re mine, and that’s it, forever.”

Kendall Square: You confuse me.

last night, after a lovely couple of hours spent drinking limca (indian keylime soda, look into it as it's DELICIOUS and i'm going back to shalimar to get some more in a few) and smoking some rose and mango shisha with mike and matt, we opted to head over to kendall square to shoot some pool.  on the way there, i realized that my friends and i, uh, NEVER go out in kendall. ever.  know why?  because kendall is a royal pain in the ass and one of the most awkward areas in cambridge or boston to navigate, on foot or otherwise.

here's my beef with you, kendall: you're humongous.  and nothing of interest, with the exception of buildings important to MIT and all that, is situated anywhere near your T stop.  when i say "everything of interest", i mean everything that's not legal sea foods or the harvard coop satellite store, both of which are located on main street.  i mean the kendall landmark theatre, which is one of the best cinemas around for international and feature releases; i mean flat top johnny's, where we were last night; and i mean the garment district, which is the reigning champ when it comes to procuring vintage clothing and costumes in the greater boston area.  the fact that you gotta GoogleMap your kendall-bound destination before you even leave your house is enough reason to refrain from heading anywhere near that part of cambridge for the night.

with that said: i wish your layout was a little more sympathetic with the needs of boston/cambridge nightlife, kendall, because your location is ideal.  you're right over the bridge, for chrissakes! you've got movies, booze, pool and decent shopping! why can't you just be a little more accommodating when it comes to organizing a bar crawl or shopping on a rainy day?  

we wound up ditching flat top johnny's for the independent in union square, which is way closer to our respective homes and open until 2am on fridays and saturdays.  the food is awesome and the drinks are fantastic, and it's one of the few bars around that serves legitimate cocktails: i'll bet you $20 that a faneuil/causeway/comm ave bartender has no idea what an aviation cocktail is, let alone how to make one, and they shake up a mouthwatering aviation over at the independent.  union square, i fall a little more in love with you every day...

so, yeah. sorry, kendall.  you're kind of awkward, which is too bad because you've got some real potential. and now, i'm off to central (which beats kendall in every single solitary sense for food, nightlife, entertainment, shopping etc. anyway) to pick up some canvases, limca and some more paint.  i think i'm gonna walk there, too, seeing as it is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS OUTSIDE.  seriously.  get off your computer and take yourself for a walk, just be sure to leave the jacket at home and bring your shades.

to quote kj: "whoever decided on the soundtrack to 'WATCHMEN' needs to be drawn and quartered."

one of the best things about this movie: 

jeffrey dean morgan as the comedian. (image courtesy of http://meatbun.us/)

so! last night, i piled into the balcony at the somerville theatre in davis square with 15 of my favorite people to take in the 11:45pm showing of "WATCHMEN".  we got to the theatre at 11 to be safe, seeing as we had a slew of seats to hold onto, but it was no use, really: the lobby was packed with excited movie goers, comic book gurus (i don't want to say geeks, that's mean) and even a reeeeally devoted fan who went all out and donned a Rorschach getup complete with eerie inkblot mask, fedora and trench coat:

photo snapped by the lovely and talented miss g.

needless to say, we were stoked.  here's me, stoked:

once again, photo courtesy of the lovely g.

we booked it upstairs, grabbed our seats, and the whole theatre roared when the previews ended and the massive screen in the 800+ seat theatre went yellow.  

i didn't have any expectations of the movie going into it, so i can't say that i was disappointed in this incredibly hyped-up release that's been gossiped about by avid readers of moore's comic book series and hollywood insiders alike... but a large percentage of the folks i attended the showing with were definitely of the opinion that "watchmen" is mediocre at best. 

without giving up any spoilers, a few things i loved and loathed about "watchmen":

LOVED:

+jeffrey dean morgan as the comedian: i LOVE jeffrey dean morgan in general and find him to be a refreshing, confident presence in whatever television show/movie he's involved with, and "watchmen" was no exception.  his character was probably one of the least likable in the film, but his depiction of the comedian was PERFECTION in my book. (granted, i know next to nothing about "watchmen" as a series and haven't picked up one of the comics, but i can't see anyone else doing this part justice the way morgan did.)  his smirk, swagger, saunter and cigar were all perfect and i wanted so much more of him throughout the movie.  "watchmen" is worth the price of admission for his performance alone.

+the opening title montage/sequence: "watchmen" is based on a twelve part series of graphic novels by alan moore, so the fact that they were able to edit, cut, rearrange and smush alllll of that material into a feature film is impressive.  the opening sequence, set to bob dylan's "the times they are a-changin'", is a beautifully shot, vintage-feeling montage of powerful clips that piece together the background information we need in order to appreciate and understand the plot and overarching themes of the movie.  the first five minutes still stand out to me as the most enjoyable part of the movie... i don't know why i was so into it, but it got me excited about the three-hour action epic i'd signed up for, and i'm sure i'm not the only one.

LOATHED:

+the soundtrack: ok fancy mr. director man, i understand that you want to play up the fact that the movie takes place in 1985 and you draw on nixon and vietnam and a few other historical events that you signify with musical choices relevant to that time period, but C'MON.  the random hendrix/ccr/bad eighties pop tracks interspaced throughout the most pivotal ploty points were SOOO DISTRACTING and it completely snapped me out of the story.  boo on your part, person in charge of music choices.  boo.

+the length: going back to the fact that this was a 12-part series, i get that it has to be a long flick for artistic integrity, but this was just too long. TOO LONG.  it was good and fine and everything, but 163 minutes and previews? too long.

+the ending: felt INCREDIBLY rushed.  that's all you get.  no spoilers, because i'm still trying to figure out what the hell happened, really, myself, but yeah.  wasn't crazy about it.

THE VERDICT ON "WATCHMEN":  it was ok. i would consider seeing it again, if anything for jeffrey dean morgan, but only at the somerville theatre (or MAYBE imax) because it is grrreat.