If there was ever a contender for most unique album title, Ira Lawrence’s MAPAGKAWANGGAWA could be it.
From the opener Mikaela Davis, to Sara’s shiny jacket, Watkins show on October 5th shone in the most unexpected of ways
At first glance, a small affair at an exclusive Manhattan location with a tall talented blonde in platform boots could have been mistaken for a Fashion Week event.
Sarah Jarosz serenades, inspires and impresses with tunes off her new record at The Bowery Ballroom.
There’s a reason you’ve probably heard of Andra Day.
In a city where wearing a DSLR around your neck is almost as common as an iPhone, it’s refreshing to be reminded of photography’s simple rules: Click and shoot. Be in the right place at the right time. Get to know your subjects’ and their message. See through the lens to the person of front of it, and don’t just capture their face; Capture their essence.
Mick Rock doesn’t just achieve this. He lives and breathes it. And now, you can too, thanks to a recently released documentary about this legend.
Shot! The Psycho Spiritual Mantra of Rock held its World Premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival on Friday April 22nd. The documentary captures Mick Rock and all of his essence, from his beginnings in Cambridge, to his travels with David Bowie, to his work on album covers. Director Barnaby Clay calls Mick’s work the “blueprint of music photography” and Mick is truly just as famous as the icons he snapped, definitely just as rugged, and equally as cool.
Combining interviews taken on a constructed set, black and white film (which beautifully mimicked the feel of Mick’s photos), and reenactments of Mick’s darkest times, Barnaby’s film takes a journey through the wild side, and the creative side, of Mick. There’s no shortage of psychedelic elements and virtual acid trips in the film, nor crunch of the guitar that rips through the soundtrack. It was a soundtrack that would continue long into the evening courtesy of a film after party at the Dream Downtown.
Long into the night, patrons were treated to a catered rock show of covers that reflected the life and talent of Mic Rock. It was a Rock n’ roll-a-dex, if you will, of Mick’s most famous photographs including The Ramones, David Bowie, and Lou Reed. The “house band” in this case, included a Yeah Yeah Yeahs reunion, as they and other special guests like immersed themselves in hits such as “Rebel, Rebel” and “Walk on the Wild Side.” The audience squealed with delight as Marky Ramone himself joined the drums for “I Wanna Be Sedated” and provided a drum solo before Karen O and crew launched into “Sheena is a Punk.”
Tunde Adebimpe (TV on the Radio), Sky Ferreira, Debbie Harry, Eugene Hutz, Money Mark, Rose McGowan, Waris Alhuwalia, Nick Zinner, Bob Gruen, Nur Khan, David Katz, Scott Lipps, Barney Clay, Todd Dicurcio, Megan Dicurcio and more were spotted partying at the Gallery in the Dream Downtown. The evening was presented by Nur Khan and Gibson Guitars. The bands continued the party down at Electric Room.
Could it get any cooler?
It may be every musician’s dream to play this music.
Nay.
It is every musician’s dream to see themselves as Mick sees them. As soon as you step in front of his lens, he thinks you’re the most interesting person in the world. And through this documentary, everyone gets one step closer to being there.
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Photo Credit: David X Prutting/BFA.com
Winter’s War does exactly as expected, no more, no less: predictable storylines, dazzling effects, epic score, characters provided for (light) comic relief, stoic (and perhaps flat) heroine, and overdramatic villains all delivered alongside a catered and catchy pop song.
Chris Daughtry, Chino & Nacho, and Justine Skye celebrate and perform at the BMI NYC Offices
Take all my defenses in two words
And throw them away
Tell me, what kind of monster
Have I been today?
Openly crying in New York is a rite of passage, somewhere in between dropping your laundry and having something bike messengered to your office. It’s so distinctly NYC; something that every woman here can relate to. It’s more New York than pretzels, taxis, and accents.
In some way, when you’re in New York there is no such thing as privacy anymore. We give up our right, and our rent, to live in constant communication. We see people whether we want to or not. Because of that we’re constantly showing our emotional state to strangers. Including on the train, with our tears and fears, whether we want to or not.
But you smile and call me “tough guy”
To the opposite effect
It’s a flower in the gun
And your tough guy’s a wreck
The day that Chairlift played their Sunday evening show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, a show that sold out in less than a day, I was a bit of mess. I was feeling behind in life and stressed in my relationships. Suffice it to say that I was like a game of Jenga: choose the wrong piece at the wrong time, and I might fall over. I thought “Crying in Public” might do it; might set me up for the tumble.
It was as quiet as New York on Sunday can get. There was no one on the Williamsburg streets; the train eerily empty; most people sauntering solo instead of in pairs; the air trapped somewhere between winter and spring, not quite ready to fall either way and make the choice.
And I’m blaming all beauty upon you
From the birds at my feet
To the breakdancing boys
And their boomboxes’ beat, beat, beat
Olga Bell set us up, a one woman soundscape artist with sounds so intricate that I was surprised to only see one person on stage. It was laughably fun, and her music will most certainly make the club rounds.
Chairlift creates a vibrant, new, and distinct environment when performing. It is a dynamic experience. I thought I was fan before I entered the Music Hall, and I left an even bigger one. Charilift’s songs have new life in person, just like a moth, morphing into something else again.
Caroline Polachek, already haunting and mesmerizing in recorded form, is stunning and arresting in person. And while her outfit certainly helped to make her unforgettable (tonight she donned red pants with a flowing white top), it’s her vocals, the clear intentionality of each selected sound, that elevates the experience. Every moment, every breath and every syllable has a reason for being there.
“Crying In Public” was no exception. I thought I might be ready. I was prompted after all and I knew it was coming: “This is a song about New York.” When Caroline said, “can we get a sway going?”, I accidentally heard “can I get a cry going?”
So, maybe.
Sorry I’m crying in public this way
I’m falling for you, I’m falling for you
I’m sorry I’m causing a scene on the train
I’m falling for you, I’m falling for you
The beauty of seeing Chairlift in person is that you will leave stronger and different than you came in. You will harbor the energy and the positivity thrown off that stage synced with the strobe light. You will internalize it, and you will leave better than you came in.
Together, we swayed and sang to “Crying in Public.” We watched as the duo, Caroline and Adam, touched hands during the song, somehow simultaneously heightening the emotion and creating an anchor in case we had floated away. And suddenly, without warning or meditation, my list came: I had survived New York. I have survived crying on the train. I have survived exhaustion and turmoil.
And I left Williamsburg stronger.
At the end of the show, I went onward into the quiet night, with newfound energy and grace. And I knew others had it to. Lifted. Rejuvenated. Balanced. Breathing.
Thanks, Chairlift.
Love will be the bridge
Over the sand
Love will be the key
From hand to hand
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros take over St. Anne’s Trinity in Brooklyn, With Uncertainty Abound