dehisce
Friday night, GAMH:
After having seen Xiu Xiu at the Noise Pop festival earlier this year, there was no doubt in my mind that this show was going to rule. And indeed it did. The intensity of their music translates surprisingly well when they play it live, especially with the addition of a drummer this time round. Last time Dave and I observed something of a mass exodus for their part of the show, and this time the crowd was still a little sparse but heavily devoted. Caralee had a few stuffed animals perched next to her on stage that she never commented on...Clearly they were just there to observe. One of my favorite moments in the evening was when she took the time to carefully adjust them in a break between tunes, and then launched straight into the ruckus that is Boy Soprano. Love.
Normally the words "flash mob" touch off a feeling of hatred deep within my heart, but for a Mob of Waldos I was willing to make my way to the Ferry Building. Truth be told I was just looking for an excuse to get a Saigon pork sandwich from Out The Door, and hazelnut praline macaroons from Miette...But I digress. I myself wore no stripey sweater or pompom hat, but instead sat on the steps in the square in front of the building munching my sandwich and doing my best non-participatory observation while the Waldos and Wendas appeared from all corners. What did they do exactly? Well, mostly they stood around, in stripey sweaters and pompom hats. But the tourists sure loved it.
At the Shooting Gallery - Lee Harvey Roswell: Slapstick. Roswell's new batch of paintings refract sepia-toned old Hollywood through his expert surrealist eye. Some are highly amusing, some are a bit disturbing. The artist was on hand at the opening Saturday evening made up in clownish white-face, a costuming element also chosen by the band of minstrels performing old-timey tunes for the listening pleasure of those in the gallery.
Saturday night, Hemlock Tavern:
Local band the Lovely Public perform entirely appealing indie punk circus music. Heidi says check them out. Black Fiction were headlining the show, but I had just taken my first dose of anti-malaria medication earlier in the evening and was supergrogtastic and could not make it any further into the night. As I walked up Hemlock alley back to my car I encountered a cute Australian DJ crouched on the sidewalk yelling excitedly into her cellphone, and a group of ladies and gentlemen strolling along in formal gowns and tails. I love the city.
You see, you've got to take them both out:
As Congress begins its lame-duck session today and looks forward to a new House majority leader next year, a reminder from BumperActive.com that regime change begins at home.
Such were the joys: Children watching television, father reading newspaper, USA, c.1950s
Comments
I hear ya. Back before the term "flash mob" existed, part of the fun of orchestrated anarchy was the challenge of pulling it off. There was perhaps an obscure mailing list or two and, get this, physical word of mouth. Now with a snappy url, google, and ten gazillion online communities, getting a bunch of hipsters together to be ironic is not so impressive. At what point does the next instance of an inevitable sequence of ironic events cease to be ironic?
[/grumpy old man mode]
i remember the first time i heard about santarchy, how freaking brilliant i thought it was. by contrast: showing up to flood a convenience store with giggling hipsters who are all snapping pictures of each other to post to flickr later...not so brilliant. the waldos were pretty cool though :)