Part two of the Mixtapes For Hookers Awards For Awesomeness:
The Kills
I’ve already talked about my love for the Kills’ Midnight Boom album ad nauseum: here and here, for instance, and before that I mentioned them here. And shortly before the album came out I was raving about them here. So I’ll avoid being overly repetitive and boil it down to a few words: album of the year, song of the year, video of the year.
Dennis Kucinich
So, he didn’t win the election. I guess nobody expected him to, really. But rather than wallowing in despair that Americans have no sense in their damn heads, or that you don’t win elections in this country–hell, you might not even get invited to debates–unless you’ve got kajillions of dollars pouring our of your ears–let’s focus on some of Mr. Kucinich’s achievements this past year. He brought thirty-five articles of impeachment against the worst president in history. And, as if that weren’t enough (and that is enough, for what it’s worth), he warned against starting wars in Iran and Pakistan, thought that Wall Street should be responsible for bailing out Wall Street, and on December 29th called for the UN to look into Israeli attacks on Gaza. In addition to being suave and debonair (and Catholic, and willing to do interviews with Eddie Izzard), he’s politically fearless.
Zachary Lazar
According to my convenient GoodReads, I read twenty-five books last year, which is one less than half of my goal. But one of the more intriguing reads was Sway, a book that weaves together the stories of real-life stars Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charles Manson and Kenneth Anger. I have no idea about the historical accuracy of the book, or how much of it’s fictionalized, and honestly I don’t really care. I just like how the whole story is condensed into something so very readable, even for someone like me with only a very vague interest in the Rolling Stones. (Of course, after I read the book I immediately went out and rented a bunch of Kenneth Anger movies, accidentally forgetting to return 1969′s Invocation of My Demon Brother out for forty-six days. Which is remarkable, since the whole damn movie’s only twelve minutes long.)
(PS–Dude. Put a decent-sized picture of yourself on the Internet. Seriously.)
Billy Miller
I met Billy Miller at the debut party for his magazine No Milk Today in New York back in May. He was smaller than I imagined, and better-looking (although I can’t find a picture on the whole damn internet to demonstrate that.) Or, you know, maybe I just swayed because it was my first-ever New York gallery opening/party thing. Whatever. No Milk Today’s another example of the arty/weird/trashy/super-gay aesthetic he’s been pushing for a while now with publications like Straight To Hell, the Manhattan Review of Unnatural Acts (which he took over awhile back) and When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, which is where I first heard his name. No Milk Today features lots of people I’ve never heard of, as well as a few that I have (like Slava Mogutin and Cynthia Plaster Caster, to give you an idea of what he goes for.) I’ve actually been meaning to send a story to Straight To Hell for about a year now, although what with my letter to Susannah Breslin and writing assignment for Wayne Koestenbaum (plus, you know, other things I write) who knows when I’ll get to it.
Solange
If only I’d gone to Circuit City a few weeks earlier, and seen the second album by Beyonce’s sister for $7.99, it would have probably made my top five albums of the year. It’s so good. It runs the whole gamut of what good R&B should sound like, from bouncy soul numbers like Sandcastle Disco and I Decided to the wonderfully melodramatic T.O.N.Y. to the epic six-minute closer This Bird, a wonderfully-delivered autobiographical empowerment song laid over a Boards of Canada track. There’s not a dull track in the bunch, and the whole thing’s wonderfully cohesive, considering how many people were involved (Cee-Lo! Thievery Corporation! Mark Ronson!)
I’d also like to take a minute to single out some other people that made this year awesome: Tina Fey, for taking the edge off the grueling election season; Barack Obama, for not losing; FakeSarahPalin, for taking a surreal situation to its surreal extreme; whoever directed the video for the Utah Saints’ Something Good ’08; Christopher Schulz, for PINUPS magazine; CNN, for getting the phrase “weiner poopie” on the news; TI, for being wicked hot; Paddy Johnson from Art Fag City, for making me occasionally feel knowledgeable about art; Tilda Swinton and George Clooney, for being as memorable in Burn After Reading as they were in Michael Clayton; Portishead, for being back; the Comics Curmudgeon (and the writers of the fab Apartment 3-G, which I would have never known about were it not for that blog); Diesel Washington, for inventing a new position (albeit one I will never, ever be physically capable of performing); Ludivine Sagnier, for Love Songs in particular and for existing in general; and probably many people I’m forgetting. I’d also like to say that my year would have been less cool if I hadn’t been able to see Burt Jansch, Calvin Johnson, John Cameron Mitchell, the Martinez Brothers, and Angela Y Davis.
And I’d also like to take a moment to mourn the passing of Eartha Kitt and Dave Clark Five founding member Mike Davis. And sulk some more about the Long Blondes breaking up.
And, not to end on a sour note, but I’d like to say that with the end of 2008 I’d like to also pray for some things to go away: Katy Perry, for one; Sarah Palin, for another (because I have a morbid fear that she’ll be getting a reality show any day now); also the teenage mothers of Gloucester, Massachusetts; and anyone requesting (and getting) billions of dollars from the government.
Thank you! You’ve been a great audience! Good night! Get home safe! And remember to have your pet spayed or neutered! Thank you! See you next year! (etc.)
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