Alec’s Gig Commentaries

Aside from the music I attend gigs for, part of the fun of attending gigs is dragging Alec to them and either enjoying his whiny comments or marvelling at the ability he has developed to fall asleep, often standing up, in decidedly harsh sonic environments. I should have kept a record of these over the years, in hindsight, but tonight’s Blonde Redhead gig is as good a place as any to start, and I do remember some bits from the past. It helps if you’re familiar with the bands in question.

Alec Gig Commentary #1, shortly after the start of the Blonde Redhead gig. It is possible that Alec is not enjoying Kazu’s rather unique style of singing.

Alec, plaintively: Will anyone else sing apart from her?
Me: Yeah, the guy sings too, didn’t you hear him sing a bit in the first song?
Alec: You call that singing???

Alec Gig Commentary #2, during Beach House’s set at the Laneway Festival: After several years of shit like this, punk was born.

Alec Gig Commentary #3, after standing in mud and torrential rain for several hours at the Laneway Festival: Why didn’t I just marry a girl who was into spa weekends?

Alec Gig Commentary #4, standing on the Home Club dancefloor surrounded by people going wild for Tokimonsta’s set: Zzzzzz…

Alec Gig Commentary #5, standing in the front row during Einsturzende Neubauten’s set at All Tomorrow’s Parties 2007: I’m awake, I’m awake…zzzzzzz…

Alec Gig Commentary #6, after Battles: Best nap ever.

Rama Llama Bang Bang

I was very happy with the kind comments I received on the Tiong Bahru Uncle photos as I thought they affirmed the refinement of my aesthetic and my maturation as a photographer and artist. My recent Tokyo holiday helped hone my eye even further, with the avant-garde sensibilities of the city inspiring me to envision the spaces of everyday life in new ways, and opening my mind to the nuanced dimensionalities of existence.

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So, here’s my favourite thing I bought in Tokyo.

New Bathmat

Wallpaper* magazine, don’t call me, I’ll call you.

Tiong Bahru Uncle-Chic

Tan Shzr Ee recently wrote a column for the Straits Times about Tiong Bahru being “uncle-chic”. The article itself is rather mediocre, but it gives me as good enough an excuse as any to share two Tiong Bahru uncles I photographed when we did an anniversary staycation at the Wangz Hotel last November.

Provision shop, Tiong Bahru

Egg Uncle, Tiong Bahru Market

2010 Song List

As has been my practice before, this only lists songs which aren’t already mentioned in my forthcoming (yes, really!) 2010 album list. They’re not necessarily songs that were released as singles either, they really are just songs from 2010 that I especially enjoyed.

First, some Honourable Mentions (where I like the song, but am sharing it more for fun value than because I see myself listening to it years from now):

  • Deadly Medley (Black Milk featuring Royce Da 5’9” and Elzhi): The beats are blah, but the line “My shit is Martin Luther / Your shit is Martin Lawrence” literally made me laugh out loud in a crowded bus.

  • Map Of Tasmania (Amanda Palmer & the Young Punx) (Video possibly NSFW, but unforgettable): Probably the best song about pubic hair in the world.

  • If Love Whispers Your Name (Richard Thompson): Richard Thompson’s voice is a bit of an acquired taste, but I listen to him for his guitar work, and it’s killer here.

And now the song list proper:

  • Catholic Pagans (Surfer Blood): Most reviewers of Surfer Blood’s well-received debut album saw Swim as the standout track, but I prefer the uncomplicated naiveté of Catholic Pagans, which closes the album. I have this thing where I’m quite mean about indie pop, like being mean about it is part of my identity or something, and then this little gem comes and disarms me. It’s okay to change for love, it explains: “When I met you / I broke the mould / I fell apart and combed my hair”. Two minutes fifteen seconds in, it breaks out into cascading layers of joy. I fall apart. I comb my hair.

  • Tune In (The Bug featuring Roots Manuva): If you are in a jurisdiction that has legalized cannabis, roll the biggest spliff you’ve ever smoked before you listen to this track. If you are reading this in Singapore, consider the price you are prepared to pay for the UlTiMaTe BAEHSSSS XpErIeNcE. Ten years’ prison and/or S$20,000 fine? Could still be worthwhile.

  • Time Xone / We Want War (These New Puritans): I’m cheating a bit here – these are two songs, tracks 1 and 2 of These New Puritans’ Hidden album. They’re very different from each other, with Time Xone’s refined brasses and woodwinds giving you little warning of the onslaught of battle trumpets, doom drums and creepy choirs that are forthcoming in We Want War. But somehow, taken together, they catapult the listener very effectively into the album’s rather distinctive aesthetic, and I like when that happens. I didn’t ultimately feel the album sustained its initial promise, but for these two songs I was utterly riveted.

  • Rude Boy (Rihanna): I’ve had a few of Rihanna’s hairstyles but haven’t liked much of her music since Pon De Replay. To be honest, I can’t explain what makes this particular autotunefest catchier to me than all her others, except to say that in the course of exploring my occasional penchant for dance class videos of fabulous boys rocking choreography, Rude Boy has given me great pleasure.

  • Carry Out (Timbaland featuring Justin Timberlake): Lines like “I’ll have you open all night like the IHOP” suggest that this song is to lyrical subtlety as Sarah Palin is to geopolitical knowledge, and in case you didn’t get the message from the song alone that Timbaland and Justin love ladies as much as I love a McSpicy meal, the video features a lot of ladybooty-pumping taking place in front of a neon “Hot Cakes” sign. (True story: when watching the video in the course of writing this post, my computer overheated.) So yes, I’m totally a bad person for loving this song, but I blame those insidious bells in the beat.

  • Katy’s On A Mission (Katy B, produced by Benga): Yeah, so some people will call this the sellout that assraped dubstep. Who cares? You and I both know that the UK “urban” artist far more likely to make it big in the mainstream than Katy B or Benga is Taio Cruz, and would you rather have this song overplayed or Dynamite? (People who give the wrong answer will be assraped. With dynamite.)

  • Dancing On My Own (Robyn): Combines such lyrical heartbreak with such soaring, indomitable music that I almost wish I had experienced a breakup in my own life so that I could dance to this in a club near the end of the night and have one of those transcendental clubbing moments that sound really lame and clichéd until you’ve experienced them yourself.

  • Hold My Hand (Michael Jackson and Akon): It is rather bittersweet to listen to a posthumous release that begins with the line "This life don’t last forever" and (given the circumstances of his life and death) later contains the lines "The nights are getting darker / And there’s no peace in sight", but it’s hard to describe how much enjoyment I can get from just his "yeah" that follows the "Akon and MJ" introduction, or the little crescendo in "alone" in "Being miserable alone" at the end of the first verse, or the way he emphasizes the s in "just" at the end of "Nothing can come between us if you just". The song has grown on me too – it’s pretty catchy, their voices sound good together, the bridge works well, and the video is, dare I say, heartwarming. It may not go down in history as one of his great songs, but for someone like me clinging to every opportunity to hear "new" things sung in that voice I love, even as I am dubious about the moral provenance of milking every cent out of songs Michael certainly did not see as finished or satisfactory works, this song (more or less finished, according to Akon) is probably one of the best compromises I’ll ever get between those competing impulses.

Hit You With No Delayin’

Mindboggle of the day, via The High Definite: Busta Rhymes’ Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See was nominated for Best Rap Solo Performance at the 40th Grammies in ’98, but lost to Will Smith. For Men In Black.

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I will spare you my no-shit-Sherlock rant about tenuous connections between Grammies and actual artistic achievement, and just go straight into slapdash tangential raving about this song. That juddering, hypnotic sample! Busta rhyming “silly” with “nine milly” within the line, Busta rhyming “in God we trust” with “we murderous” across lines, Busta just inventing rhymes whenever and wherever he damn well wants![1. “You don’t wanna violate nigga really and truly-o / My main thug nigga named Julio he moodio / Type of nigga that’ll slap you with the toolio”] And of course, that incredible “I’ll-have-whatever-hallucinogen-he’s-having” Coming To America / Remember The Time mashup of a video!

Unsatisfied with being awesome all on its own, this song has also gone on to beget more awesome, like one of the best So You Think You Can Dance group routines of all time[2. Google “Busta Mod” and “Wade Robson” if that link stops working.], one of the most impressive hip-hop karaoke performances I’ve ever seen, and my stumbling onto the rather excellent Hip Hop Isn’t Dead blog simply because I googled Busta Rhymes in the course of writing this post. Don’t say I never give y’all my goodies. Peace out.

Weekend Snapshots 26-29 November

Koflow, my scratch sensei, at his album launch gig:

Koflow at his album launch gig

Just to mix things up, here’s a video:

After we got back from Koflow’s gig, the Zuiko 50mm f/1.8 lens I’d ordered off ebay was in the mailbox. I had never used a manual focus lens in my life, but was emboldened by what people had said on various photography forums about how easy it was to use old manual focus lenses on the Nex cameras. Here are some of my fledgling efforts with the lens – I’m quite happy with them, but given that these were literally among the first 20 pictures I had ever taken with manual focus, I’m guessing I could get better with practice.

My friend Yi-Sheng at his 30th birthday party (yes, he’s doing the Mentos and Coke thing):

Yish at 30

After dropping friends off in Balestier around 2 a.m., we went to the bakery. That’s how Alec rolls.

Bakery, 2 a.m. Bakery, 2 a.m.

The last photo is only visible to Facebook friends or Flickr friends, but it’s my favourite one of the weekend. One week before, my mother had gallbladder surgery. It’s keyhole surgery which a sensible person wouldn’t have worried unduly about, but when it’s your beloved mother, even the most miniscule possibility of things not going well can be terrifying. So here is my mother (on Facebook / on Flickr) one week after her surgery – healthy, pain-free, and the best reminder I could ever get that one of the most wonderful things about photography is capturing the beauty of someone you love.