The billionth revival of my blog, and yes, it's another Mad Men post. I just want to say: the finale tonight was ah. may. zeeng. Smart, beautifully paced, and didn't leave me destructively sad. But best of all, it ended on easily one of the most endearing and wonderful songs ever written:
What I said to my step father, with whom I was watching this with, is this: I always love being surprised by Mad Men's soundtrack. This season, when both "Satisfaction" and "Do You Want to Know a Secret" played, I thought they were anomalies. You know, because I was alive and culturally aware in the 60's and I know these things. But when I begin to hear songs like that - modern songs that my parents grew up with - it turns this masterpiece of a show into the organic story that it is. It isn't stuck in one year, with one problem. It grows and evolves, and it acknowledges that there's a world outside itself that is changing with it. I thoroughly enjoy those delightful reminders. Because you think you know Don and the world of Sterling Cooper - this buttoned-up, slicked-hair utopia, filled with 1950s optimism - but then you see (nay, hear), what they're surrounded by. Young girls screaming at boybands. Stupid kids watching Bandstand. A hippie culture that's really just a pill all too easily swallowed.
I must admit that I'm starting to have a love/hate relationship with Lady GaGa, as should be expected, I suppose, when you see a great artist who cockteases you with two years of obscurity before he or she blows up in a very boisterous and uncomfortable way.
Something about her Madonna-esque British twang is revolting to me, and I'm repeatedly annoyed by the no-pants thing (trust me, when you get heat about leg exposure from BABYLEGS, you know som'n has gone horribly awry in your wardrobe conscience). The way she hides behind retro glasses, a blonde wig, and random members of the glitterati makes me feel betrayed by the cute, bubbly brunette girl I met back on the LES in the summer of 2007. However, I must give her points for consistency, delivery, and style.
Watching this video that I found on FourFour was the total straw on my camel's back, but even in the face of all this show boating, I still can't deny that the girl's got chops. Her songs are catchy, she's indelibly unique, and this lady can sing. I'm a little afraid that she'll go similarly AWOL at the show I'm planning to attend on the 2nd (weekend of my birthday, yall!), but if it's anything like this, I guess it can't be SO bad.
You know, I will always contend that I have good taste. That includes my picks in television (Real Housewives), movies (Judd Apatow crap), books (I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell), aperitifs (Yellow Tail), cuisine (Lunchables at the office), and music. Aside from the rad jams that I score from Steph, I listen to catchy tunes like this ditty. You can take the girl outta middle school...!
I remember when I was 12 years old, I wrote three letters to Leonardo DiCaprio. I didn't send any of them because I thought all of them were too pedestrian. I wanted to pen him a note that fully convinced him of the prodigious truth that We. Were. Soul mates. "How do you Sleep" reminds me of that feeling, and also of drinking Coronas on a patio in NYC in a hot sundress and Nicole Richie sunglasses.
Tonight I resigned myself to Vh1 to watch some wholesome family programming. By that I mean trashy episodes of Rock of Love Bus, Real Chance of Love, and Tool Academy. First item on tonight's post is the fact that I'm actually in effing LOVE with the song from Real Chance of Love, "Does She Love Me," performed by America's most eligible bachelors, the Stallionaires. For cereal you all, this song is catchy!
Next item. Tool Academy. It's sort of like Charm School, except it doesn't feature the alumni of previously crappy reality shows to labor. Basically, nine "tools" are forced to go through a relationship boot camp per the wiles of their doormat girlfriends. Obviously this is much to the chagrin of the nine gentlemen, who enjoy engaging in things like screaming why they're awesome, wearing aviators while they spray Pam on their delts, and giving themselves idiotic American Gladiator pseudonyms. They also have trouble living with the fact that being confined to a grooming academy for 30 days grossly interferes with their agenda of banging twins every night and drinking Natty Lites. This show's pretty easy to follow, mostly because every other word is "babe," "bro," or "douche." I say: beer me a whole season of this shit, dude.
(At first I was going to call this Katelyn's Kickass Kristmas Mix but then I realized how, ya know, supremacist that looked.)
So because the economy is in the crapper I'm creating a songlist this season instead of a wishlist. For, instead of receiving material goods from kith and kin, I'd rather bestow the joy of song to those whom I love. Obviously that's laughably untrue but regardless I've listed the yuletide tunes you should seriously consider buying on iTunes (ordownloadingofflimewire). A lot of them are covers, which means yes, I think my generation is better than yours, Gramps. Suck it. Merry Chrismukkah!
"So this is Christmas" by Acceptance
If John Lennon punted a baby from the top of a car I still wouldn't have anything bad to say about him, but this treatment of his idealistic holiday message simply sounds like what Lennon wanted it to be. Acoustic, simple, and honest.
"Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses
It saddens me that as I get older my life starts to resemble the story in this song more and more.
Also, the Spice Girls did a cover of this song. I loves me some zigaziga but zigazigBARF.
"The Little Drummer Boy" by Lou Rawls
Whenever I see Lou Rawls' name I sort of imagine that he's a lolcat, like his name is "LAWLZ." Anyway, he has a tasty crooney voice that makes me want to drink bourbon.
When I think of real Christmas, like back in the years when I wasn't burdened fiscally, and erego drinking my face off, this song was the epitome of Christmas at the Lahr house. Vince Guaraldi truly was an amazing composer, and so emblematic of that early 60s jazzy thought tank. Ann Reilly was never happy unless she had the entire house decorated, her dogs reluctantly dressed as reindeer, and this song playing in the background.
Those of you close enough to know some of my more intimate escapades know that there's a special spot in my heart for George Michael. There always will be because there are memories I just can't seem to burn (much as I try). But even setting the Father Figure aside, it's just a catchy song - Jimmy Eat World has a great version, too.
Although A Colbert Christmas wasn't scathingly hilarious, I did appreciate this sultry number from John Legend. It kinda was the story of my Thanksgiving this year, when I realized I suck at every domestic task except getting people drunk. I made these killer eggnogs, and as Legend declares, while some spiced rum (I say brandy) is vital, it's the seasoning that gets you screaming during drunk Scattergories.
If someone ever wishes you a "happy holiday," you should punch them right in their fucking non-American face.
"Feed the World" by Far with Chino Moreno
Everyone loves a chorus of 80s recording artists here and there singin out to stop AIDS or whatever, but, yeah, I'd like my PSAs withOUT Dionne Warwick, thankyouverymuch.
There are few things that inspire my ire more than TSO (this awful video is one of them), but I can't help but like a little choir of English kids singing about Haysoos.
Love Actually is one of the top 5 greatest holiday movies ever created. For seriously. I probably wouldn't say that if I didn't have a set of ovaries, but it's hard for me to watch it and NOT want to immediately board a plane to London and shack up with a gorgeous British man. "Christmas is all Around" is the perfect anthem for such shameless intercontinental propaganda.
A few years back, Horatio Sanz performed one of the most adorable little tunes I have ever heard on SNL and rarely performed it afterward, citing Lorne Michael's distaste for the song as the reason he hardly got to do it live. Unfortunately, the clip is fucking near IMPOSSIBLE to find online, but the hyperlink above leads to the best recreation I came across. First, picture all those dudes in Christmas sweaters, on the SNL stage, with fake snow falling. The guy with the guitar is really Horatio, in black horn-rimmed glasses, and the guitar is really a ukulele. The guy playing the keyboard is Jimmy Fallon, making dinosaur sound effects. The guy holding the keyboard is Chris Kattan (dancing just so). The guy on the far right in the bonnet is Tracy Morgan, dancing like that but just more Tracy Morgany, and with lipgloss. Ugh. SOMEONE PLEASE FIND THE REAL CLIP. I will give you my first born child.
Bar none my favorite Christmas song of all time. It's Irish, it's drunken, it's New Yorky, and even though its singers are ugly as sin the song itself is beautiful. Not enough people know this song.
Remember a few whiles back when I posted that video for the Virgins' single "Rich Girls"? It got me thinking. It's such a quintessentially "New York" video. It's in a dingy underground bar. Practically everything from the walls to the table tops to people's skin to the camera lens is coated in this film of sweat, condensation, and booze. The only light comes from overhead UVs and red bulbs. Everyone's wearing black. Everyone is completely, lethargically housed. No one really gives a shit because, like, you have to be sober to give a shit. Basically every person is going to die in 4 years even though no one's over the age of 26. It's basically supposed to take place from 2-5am. Save people falling over each other in a drunken stupor, no one's dancing (they jes' sittin around!).
Now. Compare with what I call the quintessentially "SoCal" video, from Rooney's "When did your Heart go Missing?" It's on a sunny, happy beach and down the Malibu strip. Everything looks like it tastes like a cool, fresh margarita or something. It's so fucking bright out them kids are wearing shades till 7pm. Everyone is wearing some form of pastel or white or gold (either in their hair or in their Hollister costume). Everyone is so naturally pepped that they can still toss a beach ball around while sipping 80,000 red plastic cups and not get pulled over for DUI in their vintage convertible. Everyone's so healthy you wonder if its their vocal cords they're singing from or their numerous, big healthy red blood cells and happy little liver. It's basically supposed to take place between 2pm-12am. Everyone dances and claps in unison.
We both may have voted Obama, but my what distances stand between New York and California...
(PS: My fave part of that Rooney video is "Why don't you wake him up and get a job?" Ha, spoken like a true McCain.)
... when you "discovered" some magical, wonderful, insatiable artist like, eight years ago, and then suddenly they're famous. No, seriously, Lady GaGa, I'm happy for you. But A) release your fucking soon to be fawesome album already, and B) play the shit you played at the club and stop letting the record bitches over process it. You know what, I'm not even like a "music aficionado" or anything --- I HEARD YOUR SONG ON MYSPACE --- but I'm mad that the economy chooses to favor you in a well-deserved limelight that's two minutes too late. And when I can barely afford to buy shit from the breakfast cart on 47th and Lex in the morning.
You know what, whatever. Here's the source of my wrath: the recent, toned-down-yet-still-pleasant sounds of the Virgins, and their "latest"....
PS: I still love you, Virgins...
PPS: Love the Robyn Bird shout-out for the "Private Affair" video. (Yes, I know who Robin Byrd is. Don't pretend like you don't.)
Last night, as I was drunkenly responding to one of those soul-searching surveys people propagate across the ethers of the interwebz, I was caught up in a storm of cheesy 80s music videos while I cruised YouTube. I must say that the most arresting and captivating piece of work was the video for Duran Duran's "Rio":
Yes, this video is truly bizarre, and full of that essential, let's-pour-some-mysterious-fluid-on-a-hot-chick, unashamed sexual innuendo. But at the end of the day, you really have to appreciate this 1982 number as a grandfather to the neon bubble pop avant-gardeness of the 80's. Plus, doesn't it just make you want to slam back Miami Vices while you get a killer tan in Belize?
So. I'm writing two posts in one night. On a Friday night, no less, on a blog I hardly ever touch. Get over it, sucka. Sometimes a girl just needs some time with her shitty Little Warsaw A.P.T. Uhkay?
Anyway, I really can't hold my affection for this little trollop in any longer. About a year ago, I went on (I guess what you call) an accidental date with this dude who brought me to some hole-in-the-wall music joint in the LES. It was on Orchard or Ludlow Street... or some other one of those ambiguous little graffiti meccas, home to hipsters and a new Whole Foods. The venue was what I like(d) to call a total L Party*, where not more than 20 or so (and that's being generous) came to watch this little chick, probably only a few months older than I, named Lady GaGa, perform. For the record, I tried to remembs the name of the place but I couldn't, and even CitySearch couldn't throw me a bone! But there were peeps (include fathers with toddlers on their shoulders) watching her flashy bikini-clad self from the STREET PEERING THROUGH THE WINDOW that night. She was only accompanied with background music, a disco ball, and her friend - aptly named Lady Starlight - but shit, did she rock my world somethin FIERCE.
At the time she was fresh off signing with Interscope Records (I think), and now I am thrilled to say that she is on the brink of releasing her freshman album, "The Fame." Not only do I want to embody her physical petite cuteness, but something about her "retrosexual" sensuality is contagious and just makes me want to consume sequins, lightening bolts, and shoulder pads. I highly recommend that yall watch her new video for "Just Dance," on which she has collaborated with Colby O'Donis (who fortunately is tight with Akon and thereby ensures a quick rise to mass hysteria for GaGa) - but yall can find that ANYWHERE (yeah srsly YouTube). Since I saw her in person she has exchanged her dark brunette locks for a more marketable platinum coif, I guess since it's less New-Yorky and more translatable to the masses, but she has still retained the same bubble pop energy with that fresh, young independent edginess she exuded. Unfortunately I can't find my favorite song of hers ("Boys Boys Boys") anywhere, so hopefully it's on her album, which HOPEFULLY is comin out soon! Anyway, I'd post the norm (her video for "Just Dance") but I thought instead I'd post a video I found of her that instead expresses her candid fun-ness. Here she is in the stude with Noize, bein cute and dancing to what I guess is called "Retrophysical." Isn't she delish?
*L Party: A function in which American-Apparel-donning Christian Siriano lookalikes come to revel and drink PBR and rock out to a band that's only cool if you've never heard of them. Popular at venues such as the Knitting Factory and Arlene's Basement, these twenty-first century neo avant garde folk are most habitually comfortable nesting themselves in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York. Once mocked by one Katelyn Reilly Lahr, they are named for their primary mode of communication into the conventional world of Manhattan: NYC MTA's L train. They have forthwith been pardoned from their intolerable douchey-ness as Katelyn herself has signed a lease in Greenpoint and currently rides the L train to access the life she once loved.
