EA Sports threw a bash for their new game Need for Speed - Hot Pursuit, at Grand Central Station last night. Although the party was apparently pretty poppin' until about 11 p.m., by the time we arrived at midnight, it had (for the most part) fizzled out. Then around 1:30 a.m., Spankrock took the stage. Joined by him were his DJ and what he called his "50 friends," i.e. everyone in the joint, dancing around on stage and alongside him. After opening with Backyard Betty he performed a couple of other tracks of his own. But, eventually the performance just turned into the DJ mixing other people's music, albeit mixing it well, while Spankrock occasionally spit rhymes alongside him. Once that had fizzled out too, the party moved down the street to Bar, where the duo followed and provided more jams for our listening pleasure.
10.29.2010
10.23.2010
Let's get limey.
Would you like a clue? Well, I can't think of anything so I'll just go ahead and tell you. Drop the Lime dropped some beats at Vagabond last night, and these are the photos. See, its hard to come up with a clue for that. Anyway, it was a bumpin' good time. Of course, the man Luca Venezia got everyone riled up with Sex Sax, and Hot As Hell was a personal favorite of the night, as he picked up the mic and belted out the lyrics himself. As always, there was dancing, there was drinking, there was (probably) love-making. Okay, enough chit-chat. You know the routine:
10.21.2010
Love and Magic in your ears.
No photos this time. Kind of glad, actually. You can't fully experience moments like these if you're busy with your finger on the shutter button. You just have to close your eyes and let the music infiltrate your bones. But don't forget to open them sometimes, because there's a damn good show going on in front of you.
Last night Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes played a private show at a lounge in Midtown. Supposedly, this place has a "no photography" policy, but once the show started, sneaky little hands started whipping out their cameras all around the stage. At first, pangs of jealousy shot through my body as I realized my camera could be capturing this. But those pangs subsided quickly as it became apparent that this was one of those moments that can not be contained within the frame of a camera.
Right from the beginning, Alex Ebert would travel the length of the intimate stage (it is not raised on any sot of platform), which sometimes might cause him to become obscured from your view. Not that there was nothing to see when he wasn't in front of you. Your eyes could drift over to the pianist (whose piano Ebert spent the course of a couple songs singing from atop of), they could take in the sight of the tambourine man, or the drummer who wasn't afraid to use his hands, either of the guitarists, or the trumpeter, the blonde (and sorry to say it, not very happy looking) accordionist, or another person playing another instrument that I probably just couldn't see.
Then there was Jane. There is no other way to describe her but the face and hair of Audrey Tautou in Amélie, and the voice of a choir of angels. Yes, not just one, a whole choir. She could captivate anyone with those pipes and when she and Ebert sang to one another, the love that pervaded the room was palpable.
As the show went on, one could honestly be brought close to tears. Okay, I was brought close to tears. Whatever, it was beautiful. When the band played "Home" people really started to lose it. Ebert and his band play with their hearts and souls, and every vessel in their being. They don't want their magic to be lost, they want to spread it around and gather everyone in to feel their passion. Ebert grabbed our corner of the stage and started clapping his hands at a quick and tight pace, and as everyone he beckoned to felt compelled to join in, the speed of the clapping escalated but no one missed a beat. At the end it was like exaltation, my friend and I looked at one another and all I could say was,
"Did you feel that?"
I suppose it helps that he looks like Jesus.
Included are a couple of songs by the band in case you are not familiar. Honestly, this music is best suited for being heard live, outside in the open, with your feet bare and the dirt of the earth beneath them. But if you have the chance to see them live anywhere, take it.
Last night Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes played a private show at a lounge in Midtown. Supposedly, this place has a "no photography" policy, but once the show started, sneaky little hands started whipping out their cameras all around the stage. At first, pangs of jealousy shot through my body as I realized my camera could be capturing this. But those pangs subsided quickly as it became apparent that this was one of those moments that can not be contained within the frame of a camera.
Right from the beginning, Alex Ebert would travel the length of the intimate stage (it is not raised on any sot of platform), which sometimes might cause him to become obscured from your view. Not that there was nothing to see when he wasn't in front of you. Your eyes could drift over to the pianist (whose piano Ebert spent the course of a couple songs singing from atop of), they could take in the sight of the tambourine man, or the drummer who wasn't afraid to use his hands, either of the guitarists, or the trumpeter, the blonde (and sorry to say it, not very happy looking) accordionist, or another person playing another instrument that I probably just couldn't see.
Then there was Jane. There is no other way to describe her but the face and hair of Audrey Tautou in Amélie, and the voice of a choir of angels. Yes, not just one, a whole choir. She could captivate anyone with those pipes and when she and Ebert sang to one another, the love that pervaded the room was palpable.
As the show went on, one could honestly be brought close to tears. Okay, I was brought close to tears. Whatever, it was beautiful. When the band played "Home" people really started to lose it. Ebert and his band play with their hearts and souls, and every vessel in their being. They don't want their magic to be lost, they want to spread it around and gather everyone in to feel their passion. Ebert grabbed our corner of the stage and started clapping his hands at a quick and tight pace, and as everyone he beckoned to felt compelled to join in, the speed of the clapping escalated but no one missed a beat. At the end it was like exaltation, my friend and I looked at one another and all I could say was,
"Did you feel that?"
I suppose it helps that he looks like Jesus.
Included are a couple of songs by the band in case you are not familiar. Honestly, this music is best suited for being heard live, outside in the open, with your feet bare and the dirt of the earth beneath them. But if you have the chance to see them live anywhere, take it.
Labels:
Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeroes,
exaltation,
folk music,
love,
magic,
shows
10.18.2010
When you burn out make sure to leave a mark.
Adventures in the quaint little world of St. Augustine bring all sorts of delights. So, one afternoon with no real plan in mind, the lovely Christina and I took to the streets after lunch with some good friends (and some Canadians who soon became friends) in search of all things beautiful. Motorcycles lined the streets for the yearly Biketoberfest and the sun shined brightly against buildings so old, each layer of cracked paint exposed another unexpected color beneath it, hinting at a history of secrets no one but the streets will ever know. We stumbled upon vintage treasures in a shop owned by a woman who could actually remember the times each item was from, and cool enough to have worn it all. At the end of our little fairy tale, we sipped coffee and indulged in creme pastries and croissants at a French cafe tucked away so well, we might not have noticed it, had we not been looking.
10.17.2010
Good morning you beautiful creature, the world is waiting for you.
Friday morning I awoke in a world of castles and cobblestone streets. This is not Spain, but its little American child: St. Augustine, my home away from home, away from home. Open windows and a cool 70 degree breeze tickling my face lured me out into the world bright and early. It was one of those mornings so glorious, your only desire and purpose on this earth is to live each moment you encounter to its most enjoyable potential.
On days like this, breakfast becomes something you no longer have, but something you do. Your feast in the light of the morning sun might consist of pumpkin pancakes, steels cuts oats drizzled with agave and mixed with pecans, strawberries and goji berries, and coffee you purchased at the cafe around the corner.
Nothing else could possibly put a bigger smile on your face, except for the thought of the day to follow.
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