Monthly Archives: June 2007

Threeways.

Photo by beautifully unsound from Boston Street Art on Flickr.

The Saturday night conundrum: Frank Smith, Beach House, or Feist and Grizzly Bear?  Possible to do a three-way?

More on the Beach Housers.

More on the Grizzlies.

More about Feist.

Ok, and more about Bostonians-turned-Texans Frank Smith.

I’m going to be focusing my blogging energy on this for a bit – read it, if you so please.

Fake peace?

Rue Ste-Catherine photo by Christian et Cie from the Graffiti Archaeology pool.

Afterthoughts from this piece:

Questioning whether or not Lavender Diamond is an act – theatrically, not just musically – may be pointless. After all, every musician is putting on an act on some level, right? The optimist in me wants to believe that Becky Stark is the only person, aside from beauty contestants and kindergarteners, who actually believes that world peace is an attainable goal. Maybe she’s talking daily random acts of kindness – put money in meters that aren’t yours, stop for pedestrians at the crosswalk, hold open the door, buy a stranger coffee, good karma-type shit? Or maybe she doesn’t read the newspaper’s (any newspaper) dire headlines each morning?

It’s a nice thought, but two things make me question it. One, Stark is apparently buds with Miranda July (funny chic, creative force behind Me and You and Everyone We Know, writes for the New Yorker), whose career is, for all practical purposes, based on making us guess whether or not she’s kidding – even less overtly than someone like Sarah Silverman. But that’s the point – she’s like a comical Rubik’s Cube. And two, the opener for the MFA show was a dude named Dr. Doo, who drummed to pre-recorded mixes beside a screen filled with trippy screen saver-esque graphics. In between songs, a cartoon wizard preached to us about the critical importance of Stone Temple Pilots, and confused Slint and the Smashing Pumpkins. Textbook performance art, and when Lavender Diamond took the stage immediately after, in that context, their show felt performance art-y too.

Or maybe I’m reading into it too much, and I should just watch my neighbors watch porn.