Two encounters with pop culture I’d had and forgotten about that Bans wrote about and made me happy to have encountered if only to appreciate her take more fully (I have a cold):
I watched three-quarters of 200 Summers I mean 500 Days of Summer (approx. 375 Days of Summer, I guess) on a plane recently. We landed before it finished. Bans’s quick take (“emosogyny“) on the movie is awesome (but I wish she’d mentioned the Garden State/Shins scene, maybe it’s not as relevant as I want it to be)
I was sitting in Atlas cafe the other morning with Gerhard Richter’s Daughters, Atlas has a weird selection of old magazines, and we were idly checking out GQ‘s profile of January Jones and I made a half-coherent unfunny observation that Bans makes doublecoherently and funnierly here, I am grateful, I have a cold
In my deepening commitment to sound completely stoned at all times even though I am not stoned:
Seeing Animal Collective (as Avey Tare & Panda Bear) in a waterlogged basement in Oberlin, Ohio, in 2000 or 2001, one of the best shows I’ve ever seen, and then watching them get bigger over the years, playing stadiums… it naturally frames the decade for me. And aesthetically, they do feel representative of the “aughts”: the bending of form with the simultaneous deep commitment to pop; the use of electronics, samples, etc., with the simultaneous deep commitment to rock… the fetishization of fauna…
I just learned about this band “Pens” and am highly dismayed to see they coincidentally JUST PLAYED SF (they are from LONDON) and I missed them. They’re playing in Sacramento tomorrow and Santa Cruz on Wed. I don’t have time to go to those places for this band. They have a video of Amanda on their page!! I’d be just the creepiest of old men if I drove all clammily for 2 hours just to hear their pretty squall live. Why is it so important for me to try to get a nightblind glimpse of these young avant-popstresses (GOOD GOD, Andrew, really??? are you really typing this??) in the flesh (really????)???
What will they wear to their show? Will they smile? (It seems likely that they’ll smile.)
GOD. SORRY. Office anomie converts easily into icky internet hipster putrefaction. “I hate myself.” [link]
[POSTSCRIPT: Maybe Pens will sleep with Daniel Johnston, making all of my dreams come true (“see below”). Hearing the drums on these songs makes me not want to play in a band, which I already didn’t want to do, even though I had plans to do it. I feel like the drummer for this band will always beat me. Even if I become awesome, she has already Tantrically acheived the heavens, and destroyed my path in her wake. I give up.
PPS: What???? I need to get off the internet. I am going to the nut-house. I love England. I need to take Flinstone vitamins but instead of Flinstones they are shaped like little Nick Caves, Tom Waitses, Dean Warehamz, Morrisseys, the founder of Siltbreeze recordsszs, the keyboard player from Times New Vikings, mes, mes as a 17-yr-old, Martin Newellsz, the keyboard player from Scritti Polittis, I hate myselves, etc]
OCEAN: The black flag wavers for a fucking second, not safe for work, a grand glugging gets going and the waters of the world drain away.
BUSTY CACTUS: They drain? Don’t you think they’d evaporate first?
OCEAN: Naw. No. They drain. Through mine anus. Through mine geo-bio-tunnel. Which, I should add, can be quite sensitive. There is a monolithic crustacean scurrying back and forth there right now, and it’s driving me fairly batty with Enchrodinicius [flutters his eyelids]
B.C.: Wanna tangle
B.C.: Cooking school vacation?
BC: Comic book store
O: Naw. When I feel like this, all I can listen to is stuff from Apraxia records.