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Every once in a while a surprise IM appears on your computer screen in the zipped form of a debut EP and your day, your playlist and the office air tunes are never quite the same.
Meet Lykke Li, Brooklyn transplant via Stockholm, via Portugal where she grew up jamming to Madonna on tape cassette. Produced by fellow Swede, Bjorn Yttling, expect to hear nods to Feist, Regina Spektor and appropriately, Peter Bjorn and John.
In a couple of recent interviews she admits to being terrified of fame. And after listening to Youth Novels, set to release in the U.S on August 19th, she should be scared shitless.
www.myspace.com/lykkeli
It's the sound of your jaw hitting the floor.
My friend's friend's friend got head by security at a NYC gay club last Saturday. Not false. Show me a heterosexual who has gotten head by security. Show me female security to make the aforementioned statement plausible.
Straights are funny in that we like to have fun, just behind the same closeted doors the gays have been liberating themselves from. After brunch with some liberated gays this Saturday I have come to the conclusion that the only ones really enjoying themselves in this city are the sexually rebellious. Or security at the gay club, Splash. You know who you are! Shameful!
Good. God. I loved this movie. My roommate and I were joking around this weekend about how tired the “Two thumbs up” or “Way up” ratings have become. How I wanted to create a new one that was: “If I had a third thumb I'd put that one up, too.” Now I get to use it. Ok, ok. I know I’m not a credible movie critic. But I am a pop culturally saturated, urban dwelling, twenty-something, Batman alum who fancies herself filmhip enough to objectively comment. And I can appreciate styling inspired by Pete Doherty, yummy Christian Bale, and subtle graffiti wordplays changing laughter to slaughter in the middle of a bazooka filled chase scene. It was like the movie kept trumping itself. After it trumped all other Batman movies' comparably pithy performances (the trailer alone did that), it trumped audience expectations, then critics, then God’s, until it was just trumping itself. Seriously. Like, scene-trumping. It out-did itself. One explosion better than the next, one menacing cackle better than the last, semi-flipping, mind blowing, jaw dropping, eyes wide open (except for that part where the dude gets his face slammed into a pencil), two thumbs up. Way up. If I had a third one I’d put that up, too.
Please, God. Don't let this catch.
Then again, I said the same thing about skinny jeans which basically turned into owning socks for me.
Nail Polish Names Inaccurate Description of Color
Should a color named Hard To Get really be Nails Digging In Your Back Red? And when I think of a medieval strap-on I don’t picture soft florals and baby girl pastels to get the name Pink Chastity. With colors that outnumber toes more than bunions and blisters, it’s important practice the same rule you would for finding a good bedmate: Spread it before you settle on it.
Hansen On Tour
Seriously? How many different versions of Mmmbop can you do? God damnit! Now it’s in my head.
New York City Hotter than Africa
And more like a jungle. It’s like the crazy increases exponentially with temperature. Is it really that bad in your apartments or rooms at the mental hospital that you have to make the heat real hell for the rest of us by coming outside? Do we have to share a subway platform with these people? Suddenly discrimination’s not looking so bad.
Every once in a while a surprise IM appears on your computer screen in the zipped form of a debut EP and your day, your playlist and the office air tunes are never quite the same.
