Surreal Radio Comedy

If you know Chris Morris, you probably know him from the precursor to The Daily Show, The Day Today or from his more extreme and controversial Brass Eye. While the epically strange radio show Blue Jam has bits of that off the wall take on real life humour (a woman describing organized baby fights for example) this is a far, far more somber and surreal trip than faux documentary tends to offer up.

I received this well sought after (well, among a small subsection of American Chris Morris fans) in a very serendipitous way. I had stumbled across its existence while researching Snuff Box and no more than a few weeks later, our dear friend Matthew (who often has cult and rare pop culture goodies to share) had it ready for my hot little hand without me ever mentioning it once.

The sometimes hypnotic, constantly inappropriate, and poetically absurd show, of which there are hours and hours of, is nearly indescribable, which I realize is extremely lazy to say, especially when you are trying to describe it to others but there you are. It also, particularly if you are already on the darker side of moody, puts you in one hell of a head space. It is hilarious in its own way but I’d be extremely weary of who you might recommend it to. While it grows on me more and more, I think this could be one of the most brilliant finds I’ve had in a while, it is beyond being an acquired taste.

35 E 1st Street

My very first facial was serene and relaxing at Sakura Salon (home of the awesome manicures I’ve raved about). They have a small, secluded spa room where the sounds of ocean waves and birds chirping really take you away. The woman was gentle and the products were nicely scented… it was thoroughly peaceful. I had a gift certificate for a mini facial (thanks again Astrid!!) but opted to extend my treatment to a full hour, which includes a neck and shoulder massage and extractions.

I had been warned that extraction could be painful from friends, but it really wasn’t bad at all. If you need to be pampered, this is certainly a very excellent way to go about it.

Wintertime Funtime

Friends Astrid and Marcus are hostess and host extraordinaire. Just take a look at the photo-montage that adorned the invite of this month’s party, which, in acknowledgment of the frigid temperatures, was ugly sweater themed – you’d be amazed just how easy they are to find.

Several guests discovered an abundance of suitably unstylish garments at an Upper West Side Salvation Army, while Jim skipped the “vintage” route and pulled about half a dozen options right off the rack at one of the many discount shops on Manhattan Avenue right around the corner here in Greenpoint (you know those shops with the outdoor racks of faux Calvin Klein). Note the unusual length and half mock neck that passes for fashion in today’s world of Cosby sweaters.

I got my bejeweled masterpiece years back while in Austin, just knowing that some day it would come in handy…

Click here to see the rest of Ugly Sweater Party

At The Roundabout Theater

“It’s not like some funny Shakespeare play!” said a ninety year old, wholly perplexed and angry man in the row ahead of upon the conclusion of Carrie Fisher’s delightfully foul mouthed Wishful Drinking. Got to love the matinee crowds, right? But he’s right, it’s not like some funny Shakespeare play! It’s a sometimes sad, sometimes heartbreaking but more often completely hilarious examination of a crazy life by a crazy lady.

Fisher is my kind of person, a sarcastic strong-willed kook who takes what life gives her and rather than lemonade, mixes a stiff drink. The details of her life: mental illness, broken families, alcoholism, addiction, death and loss are not the stuff of usual comedy fodder, but in the raspy voice of the former space princess, you’ll find yourself laughing.

We saw one of the last performances (it ends today) so Fisher had perfected the timing and the pacing. Hopefully, with its success, it will be available on DVD at some point for anyone that missed it live.

Click here to see the rest of Wishful Drinking

in Theaters Nationwide

Demonic toys come to life, pork-themed three-part harmonies are mocked by Weird Al Yankovich, a Santa of David Lynch-caliber creepiness orders around pants-less elf boys, a toy dog named Gaylord rolls over, a nude doll haunts a little girl’s dreams, the Ding-a-ling toy universe with its King Ding shocks some poor kid – this is not your typical holiday viewing, but the selections from the ever charming Mike Nelson and crew of previous MST3K and current Rifftrax fame for their RiffTrax Live Christmas Shorts-stravaganza!

Performing live in Minnesota but projected in many theaters across the country (we watched from the Chelsea location), they riffed on several Christmas shorts. If you’re familiar with any of their shows and projects, you can imagine the hilarity.

Make sure you try out their Rifftrax on many beloved films, such as Cocktail, Glitter, and The Happening on their site.

Fall/ Winter 2009 Tour

There’s a real difference between armchair analysis and actually being a part of the crowd, and when Dan and I saw Phish at MSG the other night, the experience differed, as you can probably imagine, rather tremendously from listening to a bunch of MP3s on Nugs.net.

I hadn’t seen a Phish show since Astrid and I went our during our last year of school – practically another life: this was back before the Providence Civic Center was re-christened Dunkin’ Donuts Center – so I was a bit out of step and a couple things struck me right away.

First of all, the music is front and center – for hours. Without a cluttered desktop full of stuff to do, Outlook’s auto-receive scheduled for every 3 minutes and, of course, coworkers, there are relatively few distractions (though there are definitely a few distractions) and the takeaway isn’t in the details (obviously you can’t scrub back to that amazing moment at 12:39), but the entirety of the experience.

Ebb and flow, tension and release, lighting effects and glow-in-the dark-bracelet-throw-cues; the whole thing kind of melds together, laying bare the structure nearly every song adheres to and the band’s truly unique sound-vision. Absolutely no other rock act so successfully fuses what is essentially contemporary jazz, good old fashioned crooning, traditional rock blues, tone-based alien landscapes, overly ambitious college-level compositions and unadulterated white, duct-taped-brimmed embroidered collegiate cap funk. After a couple of hours the distinct aural experience becomes more than familiar.

‘Precocious’ may seem like an unusual descriptor for someone who’s a well established virtuoso, but the personality of the playing, which I can best sum up as kind of a nerdily frustrated musical theory major (they’re just not teaching what I want to learn, dude) who happens to be super into showing off (which I guess probably isn’t all that unique a character combo), makes for alternately sublime and confounding music.

The continual escalation, the nearly infinite ratcheting up of every song, results in one ‘Can you believe I’m even playing this?!’ moment after another. This can go one of two ways: it can blister and ultimately kind of numb, like the incredibly intense David Bowie that closed the second set, or it can truly wow, like the breathtakingly necessarily over-complicated Fluff’s Travels, which was just absolutely stunning to behold as the band navigated its way through what felt like dozens of sound-scapes drawn in cartoony broad-strokes, literally turning on a dime several times a minute.

Click here to see the rest of See Phish

at The New Museum through Feb. 7th, 2010

The Urs Fischer exhibit currently taking over three floors of the New Museum is wonderfully unusual; every time the elevator doors opened, I was taken aback. The first floor is cluttered, to a collage-like effect, with large, mirrored boxes screen printed with non-scaled objects like cupcakes, meat, VHS tapes, CD cleaners, telephone booths, running shoes, high heels, photography books and (most oddly) an Ashanti cardboard cut out. I wrote down some of the books titles (Schweizer Sagen, Marius Pictor fotografo) to get an idea of why he picked these particular objects to display together, but I think that maybe the objects themselves are irrelevant and he’s more in awe that all these objects coexist in our world… but you’d have to ask him.

The second floor whisks you to an entirely different environment and mood. The walls, seemingly sterile and gray are actually wallpapered with photographs of the room itself. Whether through lighting or the tints in the photos, the walls offer amazing shades of color the longer you look at them – the perfect backdrop for a candy purple melting grand piano – and as you peruse the room, a few moments of unexpected humor. It’s rare to see so many gallery goers actually laughing out loud in an exhibit.

The third floor again, takes you to another world, this one full of gigantic metal sculptures made from tiny pieces of clay he pinched together then sent away to be replicated many, many times larger. Within these twirling, hulking, silvery shapes is a bright pink melting lamp post, a skeleton covered in dirt, muck, and lint, and the one piece I just did not “get” at all: a cake and travel bag floating above a subway seat with ceramic slugs.

In fact, what any of it all means escapes me entirely – but I felt transformed, like I was walking into an environment like none I had ever experienced before, and I found the whole thing fantastic.

Click here to see the rest of Urs Fischer: Marguerite de Ponty

It's really unlike me (and admittedly unfair) to condemn a place that I have not been to myself, but the aura surrounding Brooklyn Bowl leaves me uneasy. Actual threatening and muscle-bound door men, velvet ropes, a line of parked Escalades with yellow license plates crowding Wyeth, overpriced bowling and shoe rental and all the hype surrounding its long awaited opening deliver a singular message to us locals: this place is not for you, it's for assholes that read about it on Urban Daddy.

Even a sure to be excellent menu from the people of Blue Ribbon has yet to get me past the idea of a velvet rope… but a friend of ours did attend a recent DJ Spooky iPhone App Launch Party; let me repeat that: a DJ Spooky iPhone App Launch Party.

Some day I might bring myself to try the place out, all prejudices aside during their happy hour, and if, at that time, I find out that I'm wrong and the place is a secret shining destination of non-obnoxious good times, I promise to write a glowing review and apologize.

I may be getting old, because Jim and I used to host parties every other month or so, but now we're down to just two a year. Fortunately, they are fantastic ones – and our Halloween Bash is the best. I'm always impressed with our friends' costumes, and here are just a few photos from last year that include my sister as Andrew Dice Clay, myself as Purple Rain era Prince, my friend Laura sporting stigmata and Jim as the Love Guru…

'd like to think that I'll have the skill and patience for some Martha Stewart-caliber decorating and recipes, but my friends may have to settle for what my local dollar stores have to offer and some mad scientist shots.. which is pretty much what they've come to expect without complaint.