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Arcade Fire

Pop Culture

Hipstercrite Round-Up: Crazy Psycho Killer Clown Edition

  • (music) David Lynch has an album. It’s called “Crazy Clown Time”. Neither one of those statements are surprising.  This album came out about a month ago so this is not new news. I’m just hoping you’re as behind the times as I am. P.S. Can someone here please make a David Lynch “Crazy Clown Time”/Crispin Glover “Clowny Clown Clown” mash-up? The album is $12.50 on Amazon. (NPR Music)
  • (film) Somebody is remaking American Psycho. And by somebody I mean nobody. They’re letting a dude with one second unit director cred to his name remake a  movie that should not be remade. Sigh. When will Hollywood ever learn? Story is BEE is all for it. (Indiewire)
  • (art) David Byrne has another art installation piece, folks. He’s out of control. (Flavorwire)
  • (music) Doesn’t it make you sick how cool Arcade Fire is?  Don’t you want to jump off a cliff for feeling so creatively inferior to them? Feel a little more shitty about yourself by watching the new music video for “Sprawl II (Mountains (more…)
20-Something, Music

Looking to Songs for Answers

Tonight I saw Arcade Fire, a band I affixed great emotional significance to a long time ago. I recall lonely nights of drinking to, jerking off to, or crying to their first album Funeral. Of thinking that the swell in each song would carry me away to the place I was meant to be at. At 21 years of age and meandering into adulthood, their gospel held truths that I was meant to study and adhere to. When Neon Bible came out, it was the same thing. An organ meant proclamation. Of what? I’m not sure. Either way they were the gateway to the beginning of it all. Or so I thought.

So tonight, in a large field in the middle of Austin, I closed my eyes and tried to stir the nostalgia for a time I looked to songs for answers, but it just wasn’t coming. I closed my eyes more tightly and concentrated as hard as I could. I kicked the dirt over the memories of lying on my bedroom floor hitting repeat on “Rebellion (Lie)” thinking that eventually the song might make me burst into a million tiny pieces. (more…)

Music

This Post IS About ACL, but NOT About ACL Afterparties. Sorry.

Well, it appears that I am going to ACL! A photographer friend was nice enough to hook me up with a

writing gig. I will be writing a recap of the festival forConsequence of Sound– a New York and Chicago-based music blog. I’m pretty stoked, but running late, so I have to go!

Check out this post I wrote over at CultureMap. It is a dialogue between my mother and I on the line-up for this year’s ACL fest. Who does she think sucks ass? Who does she thinks rocks? That woman is full of surprises.

Gosh, I love her…

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My mother and I have dramatically different music tastes. When I was a young girl, I’d listen to her record collection from the 60s and 70s while she bought the latest Top 40 CDs. As she bounced around the house singing songs from Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy With It” or Right Said Fred’s “I Have No Idea What the Album is Called Nor Do I Care—two albums she still proudly listens to—I was mimicking David Byrne’s dance moves in front (more…)

Hipstercrite Life, Music

I Died While Listening to an Arcade Fire Song.


I died while listening to an Arcade Fire song.
It seems apropos, really.
I always secretly wished I’d go out to an epic swell in A minor.
The life soundtrack equivalent to the ending of a Six Feet Under episode.

I wasn’t thinking about anything truly important that moment. The thought that Funeral still remains far superior to any subsequent album released by the band crossed my mind.
Visualizing the dress I was going to be wearing to the dinner on Friday was fighting for the preliminary spot in my brain. I wanted something long and sleek, black…or maybe teal! I was into teal the months leading up to my death.

What I was thinking about foremost was getting home. Home being a relative term, I’m discovering now. What I wanted then was warmth from the cold air. To take off my skirt, put on some sweatpants, and watch that Ryan Reynolds movie sitting in the DVD player. But my actual home will forever exist in the memories of my childhood. The place I grew up. The house my parents (more…)