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01/22/10
O2 Shepherds Bush Empire London
Discography
01/24/10 Tivoli Utrecht 01/25/10 Luxor Koln 01/26/10 Knust Hamburg 01/28/10 Nalen Stockholm 01/29/10 Parkteatret Oslo 02/01/10 Lido Berlin 02/02/10 Atomic Cafe Munich 02/03/10 Tunnel Milan 02/05/10 Divan Du Monde Paris 02/06/10 Trix Antwerp 02/08/10 Academy 3 Manchester 02/09/10 King Tuts Glasgow
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brettanderson.co.uk ♥ myspace.com
Those who follows our W♥M Podcast, you'll know that between Sally, Kristen, and I, that we really, really love our Britpop music. When Suede burst on the scene, with all their hype*, I was a bit, what's the word? Resistant.
I eventually got over it when I heard Metal Mickey, a nice rock n roll glammy track with aggressive Butler guitars and Anderson's unique voice. The songwriting duo of Anderson/Butler did not last for long, and Butler's replacement, Richard Oakes, seems only a pale copy of the original. I think everyone knew that, and eventually, Bernard Butler and Brett Anderson got over their differences and re-united - but not as Suede... they were then The Tears. I think everyone was confused on how to interpret it at first (personally I think it's like tears/crying, not ripped/tear).
The Tears didn't live for very long, and by 2007, Brett Anderson releases his inevitable solo self-titled album. I never bought his solo stuff, because I don't think his music post-Suede's Head Music** were ever re-release or re-marketed to the US audience, so the few promo downloads that he's made available for free, I wasn't so impressed with. I remember thinking his debut solo album was trying to be orchestral (based on what I've heard).
Imagine my surprise when I got a chance to listen to a few tracks from his latest album, Slow Attack, officially via We7.com. It was all very operatic, almost minimalistic in its approach of piano and percussions. I did like that it brings out Anderson's voice loud and clear, but it generally made all of his music to be on the sadder end of the scale.
While I think one or two slow songs would be OK for a full length, all of the tracks I sampled were in that very similar tone. Kind of ballady and depressing. I kind of miss the old Suede stuff. The only redeeming value is that at least, his voice isn't altered/over-produced as with Suede's Head Music and Coming Up.
I suppose, Anderson's much older now, wow you can see his cheek bones sticking out of his face... such a difference of imagery, from a time when mean-spirited fans were calling him "fatty" (we all kind of knew it was the getting off the drugs that was causing the weight thing... allegedly).
Anyway, if you were looking for the glory rock days, don't bother looking into Slow Attack. If you're a hardcore fan, chances are you probably own the limited edition anyway. The album will probably not be released in the US, as were all his previous releases. Import costs are generally cheaper these days, but expect to pay about $20 for an import album (Amazon is listing $19).
Brett Anderson is touring in 2010, so if you live in the UK, you can relive your youth days. If he were touring the US, I might leave my hibernation to see him. As you know, I've met the band before at a special "after-party", I'm sure he'll have no idea who I am.
* "Best Band in Britain" before releasing their album? Really, Melody Maker, really??)
** Suede's last album, A New Morning was never released in the US.
TRUE NATURE
truenatureband.com ♥ myspace.com
As you know, I also run a website on artist George Perez, and it's rare when my music and comic website mix. How does True Nature and George Perez cross paths, you ask? The cover artwork for True Nature's EP, Feels Like Centuries, stars actress/model Tonya Kay (with some artwork and directions from Glen Wexler).
Perez, through his associations with Fetish Con, have actually drawn Tonya Kay as a print, for Fetish Con's "Who's the Best Bondage Super Heroine?" contest. The original artwork was auctioned off for charity.
CREATURE (Tonya Kay) (2008), art by George PérezSo, there's the connection. As for True Nature's EP, Feels Like Centuries, based on the cover artwork, it looks like they're also marketing themselves as somewhat of a spiritual rock band. I reckon if you like classic American progressive-type rock, you might enjoy this EP. Despite having only five tracks, the EP is "centuries" long (so long that it felt like a chore to get through). It's not that I dislike singer/songwriter, Lou Barlow's vocals, it's just really not the type of music I enjoy.
Their best track is the opening song, "Truth I Have To Steel (Simple Heart)", which started off strong and remain steadily so throughout the song. You can sample the entire track on their official website.
You can pick up Feels Like Centuries at CD Baby or Amazon. Although, not really my thing, I'm glad that there was at least a common connection for me.
12/26/2009 19:48:38 ♥ vu (
) ♥weheartmusic.com♥twitter.com/weheartmusic♥news.weheartmusic.com
At this time of year, the popular press delight in presenting their top tens, reviews of the year and other such countdowns that serve to illustrate just how right they were all along in predicting cultural trends and populist movements across the arts. This year will have the added bonus of being the end of a decade, so we can expect even more of this self-congratulatory editorial and the shelves will be groaning with reviews and journalistic analysis.
You may detect a hint of cynicism here, and you'd be right. Before we plunge into the land of someone else's opinion, we must remember that we are no longer shackled by the whims of the cultural elite. With the advent of online newspapers, when invited to "comment" the average guardian reader delights in disagreeing so vehemently that what was once a definitive list is subsumed into petty squabble by comment number 25.
However, because I still maintain pretensions with regards to doing this professionally one day, I thought I'd selfishly have a go at compiling my own list of personal big hitters from the last ten years. Well, you know what they say, "if you can't beat them, join them".
For this list, I've decided to dip my toes into the worlds of music, film, art, design, technology and literature.
In the noughties, devoid of any radical cultural shifts, for the first time more was written about how we consume music than the music itself. The media turned its attention to the death of the traditional music industry and the rise of the digital consumer. Central to this was the technology that has made it all possible; the internet, and the reach of portable devices that literally allow you to have a record collection in your pocket. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce, the Ipod.
You'll all be familiar with this unassuming little creature. Smooth lines, pocket-sized, touch screen or dial operated. This is an iconic piece, and a triumph of design, where functionality is not compromised despite the minimalist aesthetic. It fits neatly into your pocket in a smooth way that a walkman never did, and newer models come resplendent with wireless internet and space for literally thousands of tracks, video clips and other bits of content. The Ipod is simply something which, once upon a time, existed in science fiction. Now, it seems so logical and essential that it's hard to imagine a world without one; similarly the mobile phone, which ten years previous, revolutionised the 90's, and has proved to be equally indispensable.
But it's the design aesthetic that I want to highlight here. It really is very pretty. It harks back to classic modernism but looks forward to a technological utopian future made of glass and run by intelligent machines. The little box reflects current architectural trends with lots of gherkin curves and wipe-clean glass, and even has its own noughties "retro" feature - the Apple logo - allowing it to put one foot in the future and one foot in the past. Recent devices are able to sense if you are holding them in portrait or landscape, and adjust accordingly. When on shuffle, my Ipod has a tendency to pick songs that seem to go together, perhaps registering a commonality in the title or the artist, or perhaps the tempo. "Let's say a prayer to the shuffle gods", we say. Well, let me tell you this, I'm convinced the shuffle gods are real...!
Well, perhaps that's taking my devotion a little too far, but it's not difficult to overemphasis how much I enjoy all this music at the touch of a button, even if we are still some way from "AI-pods".
It's hard to believe that the Ipod was invented in 2001 and already has become part and parcel of daily life. A little piece of design that feels classic, yet remains resolutely contemporary and will undoubtably become iconic.
Next up, from the world of film, it's "Pan's Labyrinth" dir. by Guillermo Del Torro. Well, it was a toss up between this and "A Serious Man" from the Coen Brothers, but I only saw that the other week, so I probably need to give it time to settle. It is very good though. And I did think about "The Lord of the Rings" movies, which I loved, but as this is an original story, I think it has the edge.
"Pan's Labyrinth" is a film about the Spanish Civil War re-imagined as a child's supernatural dream. The film expertly blurs the distinction between the violent, adult world of the uncompromising fascist, and the imaginary world of Pan, a character born of escapist imagination. Pan appears as a vision from the underworld in a dilapidated, labyrinthine garden and informs our protagonist, Ofelia, a young girl, that she is in fact a lost princess and must undertake a series of tasks to prove her real identity.
This film is one of many superb fantasy pictures that have graced our cinemas in the last ten years. Advances in technology have enabled photorealism in computer graphics, and this has inspired directors to create ever more elaborate and immersive fantasy worlds. "Pan's Labyrinth" is particularly effective because it doesn't overplay its hand in the depiction of its fantastical elements. Sequences including the retrieval of a key from the stomach of a giant frog and the escape from the dining room of a child eating demon, the "Pale Man", are interspersed episodically throughout the film. For the most part, the narrative takes place in the real world, a world of fascism, rebellion and war. Indeed, there is nothing fantastical about the naked displays of casual violence, torture and other war time atrocities on display here. The commander is unsympathetic, brutal and unforgiving to his staff, and at times sadistic, murderous and bloody. At the outset, graphic violence is illustrated at length, but as the film continues, incidents of extreme violence become more causal, almost routine, the victims dehumanised and forgotten.
Of course, in cinema, we are often led to believe in the power of imagination, and the "dream made real" motif is a classic narrative device beloved of Disney and many others. Faced with the reality of the Spanish Civil War, it is no wonder that our protagonist wants to escape into a fantasy world apparently of her own devising. But this film is deliciously dark and full of metaphor; the "dream world" consciously parallels the real, and is equally as dangerous. There is no escape from monsters, human or otherwise, for our protagonist, in either reality.
There are architectural juxtapositions. Notice how the structural lines in the underworld are curved, grandiose and impossible. In contrast, the real world is full of straight lines, square brick and rural charm. The "real" dining room is rationed and empty while the Pale Man's dining room is full of food, providing an irresistible temptation for Ofelia. The colour palette of the movie codes the real world with gunpowder black and grey, earthy greens and blue, while the underworld is full of outrageous gold, red and yellow, opulent, warm and inviting. As the real world trudges on, Pan grows younger, as though he is moving in reverse, his relationship with time constantly in flux. The effect leads the viewer to question which is the true reality, or perhaps which is the most desirable reality. Despite the flesh eating frogs and demons, surely the fantasy world, with its promise of royalty, adventure and opulence, can be her only choice.
If there is a sense that the magical can somehow interfere with the everyday, then the resolution takes this idea to a logical extreme, cleverly linking both the real and imaginary worlds. The barriers between life and death itself are blurred. It is an emotional and disturbing end to a fabulous film. I urge you to watch it at once.
Let me get this book review in quickly before we all trudge down to the cinema to see the film adaptation of this classic novel later next month. I'm sure it will be good, and the trailers look great, but let's not chance it. I'm not normally picky about such things, but in this instance, read the book first. The book in question is "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. (The picture is the author in question.)
This novel should be read on a cool, crisp day overlooking the hills, with winter nipping at your toes. I read it on holiday in Italy in 2008, with blue skies, warm sun and with my feet dangling into an over-chlorinated swimming pool. I guess I wasn't expecting to be swept away so dramatically into McCarthy's vision of the apocalypse, for this novel is bleak, uncompromising and horrific both in incident and implication.
What struck me the most from this slim volume is the conservation of language; for the most part composed of short, sharp paragraphs, with brief conversational exchanges. Descriptions are eloquent and evocative, but there is no time to linger. Perhaps our protagonist is too world weary to offer a more lengthy prose. After all, he is a broken man. An unspecified disaster has reduced the world to a frozen cinder. The sun never comes up because it is obscured by clouds of ash and debris. A permanent winter chill has settled over the land. The remains of civilisation, bodies frozen in hardened tar, and the survivors, cannibals, the insane, nod to "Lord of the Flies ", as they form packs of marauding gunslingers. His worsening health is suggestive of cancer, his dreams are full of nightmare images and flashes from a past that has long since disappeared.
This apocalyptic drama pressed all the right buttons. Moments of horror litter the narrative, from barbecued babies to a locked larder of half eaten people. There are dramatic narrow escapes, and moments of joy with the discovery of a warm bed for the night, or some unspoilt food source. Never have unopened tins of pears been made to sound so appetising.
The father, for he remains unnamed, is accompanied by his young son. He is desperate to protect him. They are journeying down the road in search of a warmer climate without which they will surely die. On a very simple level, the youngster represents the future of the human race. Of course he must be protected, or that's it, the end of the species. But in the face of such horror, the need to instil a moral code becomes paramount. How can a child be taught what is right and good in the world, when the world has been turned upside down, and death stalks the freeway? This is central question.
This novel is also about love, both in the paternal relationship between the two characters, but also a love owed to the human race, to the protection of the future, to survival, to the human spirit. This is why such a novel is not depressing, rather uplifting. The greatest of mankind survives in the hope and the love of one man, who, against all the odds, remains "the good guy". It's easy to forget, in these dangerous times, that mankind is capable of such generosity and depth of feeling, even in the worst of circumstances.
"The Road" is the finest book of the decade. We should pause for breath here.
Those of you who know me personally will know that I'm allowed to pick Maximo Park as a noughties musical favourite for purely personal reasons, but I wont dwell on that here, I'll instead mention the three very fine albums that this band have produced over the decade, and suggest that the second, "Our Earthly Pleasures", is one of my favourite records of the decade.
Ok, maybe it wasn't received as well as the first album, "A Certain Trigger", which, lest we forget, was nominated for the Mercury, but I would argue that the follow up is a stronger, more complete record, with excellent production throughout and some original and very satisfying tunes. The trio of tracks that open the album - "Girls Who Play Guitars", "Our Velocity" and "Books From Boxes" - are as good an opening to a rock album as you can get, full of energy, vigour and verve. Live, the band make the most of these classics, and having attended several shows over the past few years, audiences have responded with gusto to each. In a decade which invented the term "landfill indie" to describing flash-in-the-pan, middle-class white boys with guitars (such as The Pigeon Detectives and The Maccabees), it is good to know that the genre can still accommodate the maverick whims of real artists willing to stick a boot in to create a riot.
The band has often been noted for its lyrical prowess, and singer Paul Smith certainly commands a large vocabulary. This approach has, for the most part, worked well. It is his gift for describing the broken hearted in terms that appeal to the cod-intellectualism of recently graduated art students that have created popularity. Similarly, the marriage of high energy, up tempo drama coupled with genuine melody made this a winning formula; the pounding drums that kick off "The Unshockable", for example, and even to the last track, where "Parisian Skies" teases with balladry with its low key introduction before bolting off once again for a final flourish.
Like most indie rock bands, Maximo are destined to live large and die young. Their third album, Quicken the Heart, was a fine record in my eyes, but too many was something of a disappointment. We must remember that a younger audience is fickle. It will not stand by and celebrate a single artist for long before moving onto the next. Very few bands of this ilk command longevity. I expect, should a fourth album be conceived, that a change of direction may be on the cards. Nevertheless, over the last few years, this has been something of a treat, a global success, and an example of British rock at its best, and if anybody can pull this off, they can. Long may it continue.
You will know that a major highlight of my year is the annual pilgrimage down to Pilton for the Glastonbury Festival. The noughties were a decade in which festival going slipped completely into the mainstream. There were multitudes of differing events, catering for all tastes and all comers. The granddaddy of them all, of course, was Glastonbury.
It is almost inconceivable to imagine that just a few short years ago, there was a question mark over the both the relevance and the future of this British institution. For a few years, bad weather plagued the festival site, turning green fields into muddy swamps, and some elitist yet blinkered musicians began to publicly question the programming. "What right has hip-hop to gatecrash the headline slot?" they argued, referring to the fact that an American rapper, Jay-Z, had been announced as the festival headliner in 2008, "It's not what the public want. Bring back Oasis". The mood was reflected in slower than usual ticket sales and for the first time organiser Michael Eavis admitted concern that the festival may not be able to deliver on its regular charitable donations.
The way the festival has answered its critics and continued to deliver content, artistry and atmosphere in spades, for a fan like me, is wonderful. The aforementioned rapper delivered a triumphant set that showed up Noel Gallagher and friends, and perhaps caused them to regret their words. Festival attendees delighted in being able to choose from a huge variety of different acts and artists spread across many different stages. There was truly something for everyone, as well as the opportunity to stumble across something new that blows you away.
Perhaps Glastonbury is best enjoyed as several different festivals rolled into one. There is the televised, trumpeted and hyped performers than populate the Pyramid stage, and the indie wannabes that tend to play on the Other Stage. You've got the "Dance Village" for dance and electronic music fans. You've got the circus and comedy big tops. You've got paganism and alternative spiritual fields, which includes the stone circle, which you must visit. You've got the green futures and Greenpeace areas. Finally, you've got the truly alternative and mysterious world of Shangri-La, which used to be called Lost Vagueness, which come to life at night, and inevitably involves being hopelessly lost and cider-drunk until the early hours and exhaustion overcomes you.
That certain kinds of contemporary art are by now indivisible from entertainment may seem a truth too obvious to mention. Some of the most spectacular art events of the last decade were equally bent on drawing us together - not just for the fun of it, but to reveal our common humanity. I think it's also fair to say that, in the noughties, big was most certainly better. Above all Miroslav Balka's How It Is in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern, an immense steel container which drew us into its seething black depths, felt the most vital and influential of the venue's installations.
The lure was curiosity, once inside, completely black and empty, aside from other visitors, who bumped and wobbled their way around, trying to avoid shunting a total stranger. Turning to leave, you met your successors hesitating on the threshold like fearful shadows and suddenly the meaning of the work emerged - spiritual, tragic, and universal - here, common human experience revolving around the discovery of what lies in the dark. Oh the irony of stripping away our sense of sight, leaving an artwork that revolves around what we can't see and exists only in our minds.
I've loved the large installations that have inhabited the Turbine Hall in the Tate Modern. The gallery has long been one of my haunts on various trips to London, a sanctuary against the weather, against boredom, or crowds. Almost every trip I've enjoyed to the capital has resulted in a visit. The excitement stems from just how big, and just how dramatic these installations can be when done well.
I guess that covers everything I wanted to talk about. I hope you found that as interesting to read as I did to write. Honorary mentions should go to Russell T Davis' reimagined Doctor Who, which I have loved, David Mitchell for various novels including Cloud Atlas, and great albums from Bjork, Animal Collective, Wild Beasts, Friendly Fires, Elbow and many others. Short of turning this whole thing into a disseration of PhD proportions, I think I'll leave it at that for now.
As usual, I welcome your comments and suggestions for your own cultural highlights from the last ten years.
best wishes,
Ben
This Morning Call
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- 09:09 Downloading: Take Me As I Am (Max Cooper Remix) | XLR8R www.xlr8r.com/mp3/2009/12/take-me-i-am-max-cooper-remix #
- 09:13 Downloading: Accusations (Gavin Russom Remix) | XLR8R www.xlr8r.com/mp3/2009/12/accusations-gavin-russom-remix #
- 09:25 Watching: YouTube - TWO DOOR CINEMA CLUB - I Can Talk www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJDCM th8poM #
- 09:35 Watching: YouTube - The Sounds "Beatbox" Official Video www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRuhPtniF-A #
- 10:00 Downloading: Neon Gold Beat Company: GOLD 012: MILLE neongoldrecords.blogspot.com/2009/12/gold-012-mille.html #
- 10:53 TOO SOON!!! Emergency Recall on Brittany Murphy Posters | TMZ.com bit.ly/8s0vbt #
- 11:11 Watching: music video Oh No Ono "Swim" on Vimeo. NO that is NOT a young James McAvoy, but he might as well be. vimeo.com/4664323 #
- 11:21 Watching: All Leather on BIGSTEREO this.bigstereo.net/fra - this starts off loud and only gets LOUDER #
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elizabethandthecatapult.com ♥ myspace.com
The last time we mentioned Elizabeth and the Catapult, the song "Race You", went straight to the top ten on The Hype Machine. And it's easy to see why, the song is such a fun and cute pop song.
This Christmas song, "Christmas with the Jews", is also fun and cute (and not to mention quite short). But what you're thinking when you're listening to this song, is "er, aren't you forgetting Hanukkah?"
Maybe you can ask them if you see them live:
- 01/28/10 The Barn Clinton, New York
02/05/10 World Cafe Live Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
02/06/10 8x10 Baltimore, Maryland
myspace.com ♥ twitter.com
Maybe there was a problem with my download, but the MP3 track is 4:56, where the last 30 seconds of the song is complete and utterly garbage... it sounds like it was encoded in error and not part of the song. I've edited out the crap part for you.
The tour information they sent me is as follows:
- January 2010.
Fri 8 USA New York Terminal 5 w/Passion Pit.
Sat 9 USA New York Terminal 5 w/Passion Pit.
Mon 11 USA New York Union Hall.
Tue 12 USA New York Pianos.
February 2010.
Sun 21 Norway Oslo John Dee w/The Temper Trap.
Mon 22 Denmark Copenhagen Vega w/The Temper Trap.
Tue 23 Denmark Copenhagen Vega w/The Temper Trap.
Wed 24 Sweden Stockholm Debaser Slussen w/The Temper Trap.
Fri 26 Germany Hamburg Molotow w/The Temper Trap.
Sat 27 Germany Berlin Postbahnhof w/The Temper Trap.
Sun 28 Germany Cologne Gloria w/The Temper Trap.
March 2010.
Tue 2 Germany Munich Atomic Café w/The Temper Trap.
Wed 3 Germany Frankfurt Nachtelben w/ The Temper Trap.
themanchesterorchestra.com ♥ myspace.com
My favorite track is "One Hundred Dollar", you can simply hear the anger as singer Andy Hull asks to borrow $100. While the song is short and doesn't offer much explanation, you, as the audience makes up your own background to the song. Anyway, the song is from their latest album, Mean Everything to Nothing, they'll probably be playing loads of their new songs on tour:
- 01/29/10
Salt Palace Convention Center^ Salt Lake City, Utah
01/30/10 The Fillmore^ Denver, Colorado
01/31/10 The Black Sheep* Colorado Springs, Colorado
02/02/10 The Marquee* Tulsa, Oklahoma
02/03/10 Juanita’s Cantina Ballroom* Little Rock, Arkansas
02/04/10 New Daisy Theatre* Memphis, Tennessee
^ with Brand New
* with Harrison Hudson
siamusic.net ♥ myspace.com
Finally, we have Sia. This actually has nothing to do with Christmas, unless you count getting a new music video as a holiday gift. But just talking about the video for "You've Changed" isn't enough to warrant its own article, so I thought I might as well stuck her here.
Sia has always seem to me to be this child trapped in a grown-up's body. The latest video is wonderful, it features this weird stop-motion, "dress up" video-gamey feel to it. I don't know who's idea it was, I'll bet it's a combination of Sia's child-mind and director Dennis Liu of @radical.media, but it came together pretty great.
Be sure to watch the high-resolution video of it (you'll need it to read the song lyrics scrolling at the bottom).
12/23/2009 04:58:16 ♥ vu () ♥weheartmusic.com♥twitter.com/weheartmusic♥news.weheartmusic.com
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- 01:32 Looking at: The Runaways www.runawaysmovie.com/ #
- 09:40 New Family Guy Blu-Ray with t-shirt & lunch box at Best Buy for $30 #
- 11:30 Juicy Fruit. The Taste Is Gonna Move You! #
- 11:33 James Woods as an Imperial Officer! #
- 11:48 I'm gonna call you from the knee pad. #
- 11:49 @ADAMTALLE Y Luke gets his hand cut off! #
- 11:50 Rocky 3 montage!!! #
- 11:51 Rocky 4. sorry too excited! #
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01/23/10 Ampere München
Discography
01/24/10 Studio 672 Köln 01/26/10 Magnet Berlin 01/28/10 Rocking Chair Vevey 01/29/10 Ziegel Oh Lac Zurich 02/01/10 Prinzenbar Hamburg 02/09/10 Thekla Bristol 02/10/10 Hare & Hounds Birmingham 02/11/10 Brudenell Centre Leeds 02/12/10 ULU London 02/13/10 Audio Brighton
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Straitjacket Escape ♥ photo by Dave
The straitjacket incident was obviously the most epic moment of the night, but the theatrics didn’t end there. There was interpretive dancing, rogue boomerangs, and a pretty intimidating box accordion. Throw in a picturesque stage setting and a watering can attached to the drum kit, and it wasn’t an average Webster Hall show. The band managed to take a spacious, relatively normal venue and shift the atmosphere to match that of the album: warm, enthusiastic, and frenzied.
Fanfarlo ♥ photo by DaveWith only one album, they had a limited supply of songs to play. My personal favorite, “I’m a Pilot,” drew from the band’s most appealing quality: their infectious camaraderie. This was most apparent during the encore, when they had run out of songs to sing, so they resorted to the obligatory cover, Low’s “Just Like Christmas,” featuring opening band, Freelance Whales. Anything holiday-related is instantly a cheese-fest, but throw in a cavalcade of instruments and a dozen earnest musicians and it becomes easy to suspend any cynicism.
(I really wanted to end this review by writing, “...and by the end of the night, you could say that the entire audience had shed an emotional straitjacket – and put on a fringed vest of love.” But I won’t. Swearsies.)
Photos by Dave:
Fanfarlo ♥ photo by Dave 
Fanfarlo
Fanfarlo
Fanfarlo & Freelance Whales
12/22/2009 00:12:42 ♥ kateg (
)
♥ fanfarlo.com
♥ myspace.com/fanfarlo
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- 11:31 Reading: inFAMOUS Wins IGN's Best of 2009 "Best Story" Award bit.ly/80kYq3 #
- 22:37 At the new Alamo Park North to see Avatar in 3D. twitpic.com/ughbh #
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