Brian Eno and Lou Reed, two timeless masters of the sonic universe—both icons of the musical world for their incredibly influential contribution to their respective genres, both poets of sound and texture. And in a world of ridiculous mashups and nonsensical pairings of music found scattered about the internet, someone managed to take the time to meld Eno’s seminal Music for Airports with Reed’s noise-heaving Metal Machine Music to create a bizarrely hypnotic creation—Metal Machine Music for Airports. And thanks to Dangerous Minds unearthing this cohesion of over-modulated feedback and ethereal ambient tones, you can now listen to almost an hour’s worth of otherworldly goodness below.
And if that’s doesn’t fully satisfy your musical appetite, you can wander through the wonder of Brian Eno HERE.
There will be no napkins safe this weekend as the serviette-tossing Rocco Ancarola returns to Lavo, July 29, for Riviera Sundays starting at 9:30pm. It is a joyous occasion. The event, called a "Celebration of Life," is a reference to Rocco’s long recovery from a heart attack that almost ended his life. In a Facebook post, he offered, "Thank you to all my friends for all your Love. You all helped me to recover very well and I THANK YOU ALL !!!!” Rocco is one of the great gentlemen in this business and we can’t wait to see him.
While at BINGO at Hotel Chantelle Monday, tablemate Michael Cavadias informed us that he was going to miss a week, something we never do, because he was heading to London. "For the Olympics," someone exclaimed, and I imagined him in a leotard, pole vaulting or weight lifting. Actually, he and our dear friend and inspiration Kembra Pfahler (Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black) are performing at Antony’s (of Antony and the Johnsons) Meltdown Festival. Other performers include Lou Reed, Hercules and Love Affair, Joey Arias, Marc Almond, Laurie Anderson, and Diamonda Galas. The festival runs from August 1st to the12th, basically at the same time Olympians (sans the banned Greek racist track star) are running for the gold.
So I was so-so when Mayor Bloomberg led the charge in banning cigarette smoking in places where I eat and drink and dance and play and walk in. The downside at the time was the encroachment by government into our rights…or freedom of choice. The arguments about second-hand smoke hurting those around those evil smokers won the day and, in retrospect, the trade-off was OK.
Now comes a proposed ban on large containers of sodas that contain dreaded sugar at any place regulated by the Board of Health. It’s easy to spot those: they have a letter grade in their front window. I am a strictly-diet-soda guy, but this ban reeks of Big Brother. If they can ban sugar in soda, then they can ban butter on popcorn or lollipops or cracker jacks or hot dogs or liverwurst. The foods we eat are often only acceptable in moderation. I didn’t trust the cigarette ban because it seemed like a step 1. Now that step 2 is on the brink of enactment, I fear for step 3. Is step 100 a requirement for sensible shoes? A ban on ankle-breaking Louboutins? If a person wants to buy fattening soda, educate them, don’t regulate them.
Will drink maximums be considered by our Mayor? This won’t end until Bloomberg is put out to his billionaire pasture. He is so out of touch with the life of the regular guy that he thinks this might actually stop someone from consuming massive amounts of whatever. If they can’t buy a 32-ounce bottle, they’ll buy two 16-ouncers. Will New Yorkers eventually be fined for not wearing sunglasses on a sunny day?
We have to mention the passing of Sylvia Woods at 86, the legendary proprietor of Sylvia’s, Harlem’s soul food mecca. She was buried this morning. Reverend Al Sharpton performed the eulogy. I never met Sylvia, but was touched by her. When I was designing the Cherry Lounge for Timbaland and DJ Clue in Harlem, me and mine would stroll over to Sylvia’s for lunch and comfort. The walk over and the meal and the company at her restaurant washed away a myriad of stupid misconceptions we had about Harlem. She was a true ambassador for the neighborhood. It was wonderful. She will be missed.
Sunday night is always quiet at the Lewis household. It’s dinner with parents then Boardwalk Empire and Eastbound and Down. Then it’s an early bed. During the week sleep is scarce. I grab what I can. This past Sunday was an exception. The Patricia Field Halloween Party was overshadowed by the sudden death of Field’s disciple, the legendary Codie “Ravioli” Leone. The party held at Rick’s Cabaret (50 West 33rd Street) was amazing. The Patricia Field crew took a deep breath, dried their tears, and knew that Codie would have demanded a blast. Now no quips from the peanut gallery are called for. People who live in and around the downtown scene live hard. When they leave us at unreasonably early ages it is sometimes unreasonable to be shocked. Lou Reed’s passing shocked so many but the reality was he was 71, and can we expect rockers like that to be around at 80? I guess loved ones do. Paul Sevigny called me to discuss. I told him when my time came to throw me a party. He told me it would be a blast, and that at one point he’d stop the music and observe a minute of silence. I told him 15 seconds would do. I had 15 minutes of fame two and a half times, and I was almost relevant a minute ago. I understand that I belong to another era. It has never been like 1981 for me again. Sure ’96 was amazing and 2005 a blast and last night was a WOW, but my time early ’80s was the best. When I was nine I dreamed of a time like I had when I was 25. Yeah, I caught the bug the first time I saw Casablanca. I always wanted to be Rick and operate a Café Americain. Now that I’m old(er) and getting grey, I still enjoy the evening to the max, but my max ain’t what it used to be.
I didn’t know Lou Reed although I know people who did. I opened for him with a fashion show at the Ritz once. I met him a bunch of times, saw him and kept my distance many others. He was always kind of unpleasant when I saw him. I figured he had a lot on his mind and had no time for small talk and gawkers. Well, after all is said and done, he spoke to you and me in volumes with his work. He leaves a legacy that helped define the era and the attitude that owns my soul. I looked at the downtown royalty of this era gathered at Rick’s, and I remembered The Factory and Andy Warhol, and Ronnie Cutrone, and Lou Reed, and all the others that defined the life we live, that pioneered it, that took the risks and partied hard. It was almost like what Isaac Newton supposedly said, “IfI have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” We all took a walk on the wild side and live the lives we want because of the genius of so many. Paul said, “Dust in the Wind,” and I vowed to enjoy my moments a little bit more. I may not belong in this time but refuse to dwell in the sugar coated past. I’m going out tonight and tomorrow and the next night… and well, etcetera. Oh and everyone should observe a minute of silence or at least 15 seconds in remembrance of the many people who died, were injured or lost so much one year ago today when Hurricane Sandy hit us.
So there I was at Rick’s, which is part of a publicly traded company. That company owns a bunch of Rick’s all over the nation and also other joints under umbrellas like Club Onyx, Jaguars, Temptations and, well, you get the idea. These people are pros. I never go to strip clubs. They abhor me. I don’t have anything against the gals, figuratively and literally but all the young dudes and the older ones as well skeeve me. Yet Rick’s was very different. It’s a thing called vibe and they have it. The layout, the décor, and the way the door, coat check, and staff treated me and mine relaxed me. I didn’t understand the location when the always-dapper Patrick Duffy told me where Pat’s party was, but Rick’s was real. Patricia Field is an icon. She is a legend, an entrepreneur, the mother to the House of Field, a boutique owner, a renowned stylist and an old friend. She got 5 Emmy award nominations for her costuming of Sex and the City, and six Costume Designer Guild nominations with four wins. She was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Costume Design for The Devil Wears Prada. Patricia Field has credibility both in the real world and in the streets we live in. Her newly expanded boutique will costume half of NYC this Halloween. She chose Rick’s and underlined her genius. When Patricia Field throws a party, well you better come done. Me and mine chatted up Samantha, a sexy employee in an ill-fitting dress. It never seemed to have enough fabric to cover her entirely. I meant to ask Pat to help her with her outfit but alas was distracted by other creatures that go bump and grind in the night. The beautiful people swayed and chatted. All were sad about the loss of dearest Codie, but grasped that the party must go on. There’s an amazing track by a band called Tuxedo Moon that all of New York’s scene turned out to see a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. The song is “No Tears For The Creatures of the Night” and you must YouTube it now. The life must be continued. Codie would have demanded it. So many commented that they felt she was there. I asked Patricia Field to tell me all about it.
The death of Codie shocked us to our core, so the Patricia Field Halloween party became something else. Tell us about that.
Anyone that really knows Codie, and may I say, I knew Codie since the early 80’s… Codie is in the tradition of House of Field, a super party girl. The most fitting way to celebrate Codie is in the way that she lived and celebrated her lifestyle. I couldn’t imagine Codie not being at that party. Her sudden passing made it all the more imperative for me not to leave her out of this party and our celebration style of our happy lives. For this reason, I edited the Strippers vs. Vamp’s to The Codie Ravioli Party. She was there with us that night, as it should be, and I certainly hope for many nights to come. We will all be out having a drink and be talking about the time that Codie did this, or that, and we will all have a good happy laugh together. Codie will be there with us.
Upon the recommendation by Patrick Duffy, of having our party at a stripper club, and then upon the suggestion of Rick’s by Ingrid. I visited Rick’s and found the most gorgeous club that I have been to in a very long time. It was the kind of place that you want to hang out in… beautiful decorated, beautifully lit, great architecture, the music I love to hear. As I stood at the bar and I said to myself that I liked this place and I want to hang out here, let’s have the party here, it’s like no other that I have seen before. The management has bent over backwards in support and was very happy to have us. I felt welcome from the very beginning. This is why we chose Rick’s, and now that the party has happened and we had a great time, I feel that our choice was a good one. I certainly intend to go back to Rick’s again. My favorite spot is the first floor bar.
Is Halloween more or less special for people who really dress up most nights to go out?
For people who normally dress in a festive and creative style I believe that Halloween could be a bit more special, as it is specifically thematic. However, my experience in my shop has told me that all the other people come to us for Halloween costumes. I learned that they think of us as a costume shop and I find that sweetly amusing, as to me this is how we dress all the time.
What are you up to these days?
Lately, I am up to several different projects. One of them of course is my shop, which was recently enlarged. Another work in progress is the possibility of my own feature film (still in the early stages of gestation). A third project is a Sex and The City world tour of iconic costumes, etc., etc., etc. The main thing is that all of my future projects are independent, and not heavily hooked into the dictates of the big time entertainment industry. Keep it simple, keep it cute, keep it mine.
Last night at CBGB the John Varvatos store in NYC, Lou Reed and Mick Rock spoke about their friendship and work relationship spanning from the very beginning of both of their careers in music and photography to now. The gathering was to celebrate the launch of their photo-filled book Transformer, showcasing many previously unseen images of Lou by Rock, and a few of Rock by Lou.
After guests milled about the store with cocktails, perusing the fruits of the artists’ labor, Rock and Lou took their places on a stage, not to perform, but to talk about their history. Lou Reed’s adoration of Mick Rock came from a few things: his ability to capture him in a way that felt alive, and real (as opposed to what he described as movie theater cardboard cutouts,) and for their shared affinity for staying up all night.
A few jabs at Pop music masquerading as Rock later, Lou was on about Malcolm McLaren and the Sex Pistols, and how he did it first. Whatever you say, Lou. I just wish the S&M store Lou used to dress from on MacDougal were still around…
A seriously cool book signing will roll all the rock and rollers to the seriously cool rock and roll clothing store John Varvatos (315 Bowery) this Thursday at 7pm. The store, formerly the seminal club CBGB’s, has an otherworldly vibe as if the ghosts of all the acts that ever played there linger in its mist. The book will bring Lou Reed and Mick Rock together to sign their book, Transformer, from Genesis Publications. The event is completely RSVP’d out so I’m going to hang outside like a groupie.
While we are on this rock tip I will spend my early Sunday night from nine till midnight DJ’ing at Sapphire (333 East 60th), a gentlemans club. After my set I guess I’ll sneak in to the main room where the "talent" is, and once again become a sort of groupie. I’m working with the ever dapper Todd Smolar in the rock/electro room where everybody is fully-clothed, while DJs Manero and Kevin Lim work the sexy room. The sexy room is somewhat troublesome for DJs, as the songs have to be three minutes long for the lap dancers. I may just go topless in my room to ensure the other is packed. The party is called SINS—short for Service Industry Night Sundays—and Gino Rubinsky and Ruben Araneta are the players to be named.
After that if I’m not all groupied out I will shoot downtown to LIT, my favorite haunt in this naked city. There, I will seek out my friend Joy Rider, who along with Ms Cal, Disco Mike and the Dirty Pearls drummer Marty E, present Yuck Foo—a rock and roll weekly. Ms Cal and Marty will DJ. This party is getting better each week; soon there will be bands and guest DJs. Joy, a bonafide Steve Lewis groupie, is threatening to bring me in for a set. Other Steve Lewis groupies gather Thursdays at Hotel Chantelle for the weekly rock night. Sam Valentine, Bree and Sean Louis bring the masses.
On a weird segue note, Dual Groupe which I will from now on call Dual Groupie, will bring their fervent flock to the Highline Ballroom (431 West 16th Street), where their mammoth Saturday Brunch (2pm-7pm) will shelter for the winter. RSVP to RSVP@DAYANDNIGHTLIFE.COM.
Daniel and Derek Koch have a good thing going, with a large following of the fabulous who spend Saturdays eating fine fare and sipping champagne. This event marks the opening of their sixth season, with DJ sets by guys who have far more groupies than I, DJ Paolo and Matt Winter. Tonight I will attend the grand opening of Suite 36 (18 West 36th Street) and decide whether it is truly grand. They have real talent spinning, DJs Jeffrey Tonnesen, DJ Ruckus and DJ Reach have lots of fans…er groupies. I like the spaces in this defunct manufacturing district—high ceilings, solid walls, and few neighbors should spell success. Although District 36, being redone as we speak by players to be named later, never gathered enough groupies to be viable.
Lou Reed is known for being ornery, and grumpy, and plenty of other adjectives that end in -y. But he’s foremost and forever a sensitive artist, the type who does when he wants when he wants to. In the current issue of Poetry magazine, Reed contributed a poem called "O Delmore how I miss you," apparently written about a teacher who hurt Reed’s feelings by giving him a B on a short story but nevertheless taught him a lot about life and such. It’s tender, affecting, and a whole lot more palatable than Lulu. After the click, you read the poem reproduced in full.
O Delmore how I miss you. You inspired me to write. You were the greatest man I ever met. You could capture the deepest emotions in the simplest language. Your titles were more than enough to raise the muse of fire on my neck. You were a genius. Doomed.
The mad stories. O Delmore I was so young. I believed so much. We gathered around you as you read Finnegans Wake. So hilarious but impenetrable without you. You said there were few things better in life than to devote oneself to Joyce. You’d annotated every word in the novels you kept from the library. Every word.
And you said you were writing “The Pig’s Valise.” O Delmore no such thing. They looked, after your final delusion led you to a heart attack in the Hotel Dixie. Unclaimed for three days. You—one of the greatest writers of our era. No valise.
You wore the letter from T.S. Eliot next to your heart. His praise of In Dreams. Would that you could have stopped that wedding. No good will come of this!!! You were right. You begged us—Please don’t let them bury me next to my mother. Have a party to celebrate moving from this world hopefully to a better one. And you Lou—I swear—and you know if anyone could I could—you Lou must never write for money or I will haunt you.
I’d given him a short story. He gave me a B. I was so hurt and ashamed. Why haunt talentless me? I was the walker for “The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me.” To literary cocktails. He hated them. And I was put in charge. Some drinks later—his shirt undone—one tail front right hanging—tie skewed, fly unzipped. O Delmore. You were so beautiful. Named for a silent movie star dancer Frank Delmore. O Delmore—the scar from dueling with Nietzsche.
Reading Yeats and the bell had rung but the poem was not over you hadn’t finished reading—liquid rivulets sprang from your nose but still you would not stop reading. I was transfixed. I cried—the love of the word—the heavy bear.
You told us to break into ______’s estate where your wife was being held prisoner. Your wrists broken by those who were your enemies. The pills jumbling your fine mind.
I met you in the bar where you had just ordered five drinks. You said they were so slow that by the time you had the fifth you should have ordered again. Our scotch classes. Vermouth. The jukebox you hated—the lyrics so pathetic.
You called the White House one night to protest their actions against you. A scholarship to your wife to get her away from you and into the arms of whomever in Europe.
I heard the newsboy crying Europe Europe.
Give me enough hope and I’ll hang myself.
Hamlet came from an old upper class family.
Some thought him drunk but—really—he was a manic-depressive—which is like having brown hair.
You have to take your own shower—an existential act. You could slip in the shower and die alone.
Hamlet starting saying strange things. A woman is like a cantaloupe Horatio—once she’s open she goes rotten.
O Delmore where was the Vaudeville for a Princess. A gift to the princess from the stage star in the dressing room.
The duchess stuck her finger up the duke’s ass and the kingdom vanished.
No good will come of this. Stop this courtship!
Sir you must be quiet or I must eject you.
Delmore understood it all and could write it down impeccably.
Shenandoah Fish. You were too good to survive. The insights got you. The fame expectations. So you taught.
And I saw you in the last round.
I loved your wit and massive knowledge.
You were and have always been the one.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.
I wanted to write. One line as good as yours. My mountain. My inspiration.
Musicians and visual artists often have a symbiotic relationship, inspiring one another and collaborating on work. Recently, all-grown-up boy genius photographer Ryan McGinley opened a show at New York’s Team Gallery with a party featuring the musical stylings of Atlas Sound, a project from Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox. In addition to having the band play the opening, McGinley filmed the ordeal and today you can watch the video, thanks to Pitchfork.
Despite his inventive nature (and beloved tactic of taking photos of nude young folks cavorting), McGinley wasn’t the first person to marry music and art. Remember The Velvet Underground? Practically Andy Warhol’s house band, the Lou Reed-fronted group, which wrote plenty of songs about Warhol and his posse, let the Pop Art mastermind produce their records and even design the famous banana album cover.
No less than the Radiant Child himself, Jean-Michel Basquiat didn’t just enjoy music—logging countless hours at the famous Mudd Club while bands like DNA and James White and the Blacks provided the soundtrack—he made it as well. Basquiat played in the avant-garde noise group Gray (originally called Test Pattern), that might not be as recognizable as his visual work but is worth soaking up nonetheless.
California-based artist Raymond Pettibon shot to collectible fame as the guy who helped define the look of SoCal punk, most notably designing the logo, album covers and flyers for Black Flag, the band his own brother, Greg Ginn, played guitar for.
Multimedia artist Wynne Greenwood might be known for her work in the Whitney Biennial and her general art star persona, but before any of that was going on, Greenwood played in a variety of Pacific Northwest punk bands including Mimi America and Tracy & The Plastics, the electro-video project that eventually catapulted her into the art world.
It is possible that you are one of the people who enjoyed Lou Reed and Metallica’s art-metal album, Lulu, much in the way that it’s possible that you could incur bird flu one day, or perhaps play Ultimate Frisbee while sober. If you’re one of the few, you’ll be excited to know that Lou Reed is embarking on a tour this summer called "From VU to Lulu," which will presumably touch on those songs and the ones in between from his long, long career. It’s European only, for now, but if you start an online petition I’m sure Reed will announce U.S. dates soon enough.
He’ll be without Metallica, unfortunately, but that could be for the best. Instead, you will maybe get to hear "Sister Ray" go right into "The View." And then your head will explode. Here are those dates, via Pitchfork, as well as a video that superimposes Grandpa Simpson’s voice over the Lulu instrumentals for what really should have been.
06-06 Luxembourg, Luxembourg – Rockhal
06-08 Nyon, Switzerland – Caribana Festival
06-09 Paris, France – Montereau Festival
06-11 Paris, France – Olympia
06-12 Lille, France – L’Aeronef
06-14 Amsterdam, Netherlands – Heineken Music Hall
06-15 Brussels, Belgium – Ancienne Belgique
06-18 Copenhagen, Denmark – Falconer Salen
06-20 Berlin, Germany – Citadel Music Festival
06-23 Mainz, Germany – Zollhafen/Nordmole
06-25 Clermont Ferrand, France – Cooperative de Mai
06-26 Bordeaux, France – Fete le Vin
06-29 Bonn, Germany – Kunst!Rasen
06-30 Dresden, Germany – Filmnächte am Elbufer
07-01 Munich, Germany – Tollwood Festival, Olympic Park
Lou Reed and Metallic are like pizza and ice cream, amazing in their own right but terrible when mixed together. Their collaborative album LuLu was panned by pretty much everyone with eardrums, but that doesn’t mean you’ve heard the last of them. "Loutallica" has released their first video, done by Black Swan, The Wrestler, and creepy PSA director Darren Aronofsky, for the song "The View." Put your speakers on mute and click through to take a look.
"The first time I heard ‘The View’ I was stunned," Aronofsky said. "I had never heard anything like it. Half was all Lou. The other half all Metallica. It was a marriage that on the surface made no sense, but the fusion changed the way I thought about both artists and morphed into something completely fresh and new. I couldn’t stop listening to it. Lou’s crushing lyrics, and the band’s incredible licks."
Shot in black and white noir-style with distorted frames and blurs, it looks rock-star cool in all elements, but you have to wonder if they used Aronofsky’s talents enough. Where is the sex, the violence, the drug use? Shock value seems requisite from the man who made Requiem for a Dream, but maybe the music is already shocking enough. Thoughts?