Jimmy Page is a Golden God

But seriously. He is. And I just thought everyone should know that.

Every time I watch this clip from It Might Get Loud, I get chills.



What a genius! Sigh.

In other music news, I finally buckled down and bought the new Miniature Tigers album, Fortress. I've loved Mini Tigers since I first saw them opening for (and completely upstaging) Bishop Allen. I found Charlie Brand and his teddy bear sweater incredibly endearing, and their album Tell it to the Volcano quickly became one of my all time favorites. ALL. TIME.



Strange music video, but I can't help but love it. And what a song! Infectious beats! Sick guitar! They are so simple but soooo good.

So far the new album is pretty ok. It's definitely different, and I'll see how I feel about that. Tell it to the Volcano had a strong central theme of getting over unrequited love, and a super Pinkerton feel that I dug. It sounds like Fortress steps away from the total stripped down Weezer-ish chords and goes for a more trippy, Sgt. Pepper feel with heavier synths and effects (not surprising, seeing how Brand cites Weezer and the Beatles as two of his influences).

Sorry for that last paragraph. It was boring, but necessary. For the .5 of you who might be interested.

The addictive sound is still there though. And as long as Brand keeps writing (and loving Lost... I already miss that show so much), I'll keep coming back.

In related Miniature Tigers news, the movie Easy A uses their song "The Wolf" in one scene. I may or may not have had a minor freak out, done a victory dance, and desperately whispered to my movie-going companions how cool it was that a band I loved had a song in the show. They did not care. In unrelated news, Easy A was a great movie. Same with The Social Network... hoo boy, was that a good flick. Well, now I'm completely off topic. If I even had one to begin with. And...

fin

The List

A few months ago, I wrote a lovely and enlightening post about my girl crushes. Well now, prompted by a viewing of Penelope and an undying belief that there should be balance in all things, I've decided to do a rundown of my favorite guys. You know, a la "The List" from Friends. Here's my list of men that make me swoon. While there are many I admire and love at various times for various reasons, these are the ones that reign supreme. Yes, I'll love them, always and forever.

-Andrew Bird

Oh boy. This man is a genius. He's an incredible musician, playing several instruments at a time, looping riffs and melodies to create a comforting blanket of sound I just want to curl up in. The fact that he's so appealing tall, nerdy, and pull off vests and scarfs with aplomb? Now that's just a bonus.

But it's hard to discuss Andrew's appeal without showing him live, as music is truly his element and where he shines.



Sigh. Also, for more proof of his talents, check out the blog he did for the New York Times. Is there anything Andrew Bird can't do? I think not.

-James McAvoy

Another man who is supremely talented in his field. What can I say, girls only like guys that have good skills. And while I thought he was cute as Mr. Tumnus (I'm not too proud to admit it), it took one viewing of his Macbeth for me to be completely, utterly, over-the-moon in love with him. Seriously, I have never seen Shakespeare done better. Yeah that's right, EAT IT BRANAGH.

But I digress. Great actor, Scottish, can perform pretty much any kind of role possible (Shakespeare, action, fantasy, romantic comedy, intense war drama). How can I resist?


And just because I think I'm legally obliged to mention this whenever I talk about James McAvoy, remember that time I saw him in three days of rain? And I met him after? And had a conversation? That might have been the single greatest moment of my life.

-Lee Pace

Two words: Pie Maker.


That role alone, plus seeing him in The Fall and his original Bryan Fuller show Wonderfalls, have made me a mega-fan. Beware of watching Pushing Daises with me, because there is a high probability of fangirl-ishness going on. He's just adorable. A tall, Converse wearing, delightfully bashful fellow who makes me pie? Looks and cooks? Let's just say, I love food, I love Lee, and that's all you need to know.

ZAPTACULAR!

Oh my ... oh MY ... there are no words.

"Drink of the Miracle Sauce. Rehealthify yourself."

You'll thank me later, I guarantee it.

MILKQUARIOUS from +JOE HURSLEY+ on Vimeo.

Why, merciful heavens, WHY?

So tonight, I saw The Last Airbender.

There are no words to describe the pain and devastation the entire movie experience caused. I was reduced to a facepalming seatwarmer, waiting for death to come with it's sweet, sweet deliverance.

It was BY FAR the worst movie I've ever seen. Wolverine? Better. Avatar? Better. Benchwarmers? Far better. Yes, I just said that a Rob Schneider movie was superior to this drivel. That's how serious I am.

Why is M. Night allowed to write/produce/direct movies? I propose that this is the breaking point. From this moment on, let us unite together in a sacred pact: don't support, don't encourage, and for heavens sake DON'T BELIEVE in Shyamalan. He is dead to me now. Always and forever.

Oh, I see you are gangster...

I'm pretty gangster myself.

Or at least that's how I felt after jammin' to Big Boi in "Crunk Lake City," as he so affectionately called it.

Oh Big Boi. You are such a card.


Who knew I was so thuggish? That I could get so down with my bad self? You know, just me and thousands of other white folks chilling with the homies.

And at least I fit in with my wifebeater. It would have looked so much more legit with Luke's Rocawear hat, but apparently he didn't want it to get dirty and/or destroyed. Both of which are the inevitable results of the Pioneer Park concert experience. Ah well, at least I could shake what my mama gave me. Even if I did envy those with ghetto booties.

Is this post racist enough? Probably not. It's just the perfect amount. Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed the world of rap. Smooth rhymes and illin' beats. Is the phrase "ill" still in use? Or is that so Beastie Boys? I don't even know.

So, if you somehow missed it, I am very, very white.

A Planet of Regret

Subtitled- Musings on Culture and Generation After a Viewing of Reality Bites.

Who knew Winona Ryder could be so inspirational? After all these years of being mildly annoyed at her early Tim Burton muse status, her need to constantly keep up her brunette locks (natural blonde does her no favors), and her no-good-dirty-shoplifting, I have found solace and philosophy in the most unlikely of sources. Namely, a relationship between two initially hateful actors- Ryder and a greasy Ethan Hawke- that I can not only identify with, but that poses the universal question: who am I, where do I fit, and what are my values?


A few months ago I read Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, a must read for any and all pop culture junkies who fancy themselves part of the untapped intelligentsia. In the chapter "Sulking with Lisa Loeb on the Ice Planet Hoth," Klosterman uses The Empire Strikes Back and Reality Bites to define Generation X. And if that alone doesn't make you immediately want to read this book, I don't know what will.

Klosterman describes Gen-Xer's as a people who reject society because they recognize it's flaws, but are ultimately too lazy to change their world. They are the genius with wasted potential, but are imbued with a sort of enviable pride. Using that definition, Winona Ryder's tumultuous relationship with Ethan Hawke stops being the ideal of friends morphing into perfect lovers. It becomes a desperate declaration of her refusal to compromise.

For young twennysomthin's, that's what the 90's were all about. It wasn't just "stickin' it to the man," but it was firmly saying that the man should not, and does not exist. They lived their lives secure in their knowledge and smug sense of superiority. And I can't help but admire that, that utter assurance of self.

And what do we, the waifs of the 21st century, what do we contribute to the scale? Do we have moral codes? I wonder if, when faced with a choice, the average contemporary would exhibit a stubborn refusal to sell out, or would take comfort in safety and success regardless of the cost. Are we schmoozers with a dollar sign on the bottom line, or are we the brilliant bums on basement couches? Perhaps it's an impossible question, as there are no absolutes but mere situations. But history books prove that this is untrue, and how will they portray the present?

Like the most intriguing questions, I suppose this will take time and patience to discover. My two least favorite attributes. Ah well. That's it for now, folks. I'm Audi 5000.

DTR

Oh Ben. It's time to talk. You know, about our relationship.

Yeah, the one we don't really have yet, but that I just know is coming along quite nicely. I mean, look at the progress we've made! Finally, after two and a half years of regret, I managed to see you live. Live in concert. As in, playing the piano and singing in my immediate vicinity. And oh man was it joyous.

True, it wasn't quite your usual scene. I couldn't help but laugh as I saw you struggling to rein in your ribald persona, trying to keep it somewhat clean due to the presence of the Utah Symphony behind you. But even they couldn't completely contain you, and I had to chuckle/swoon as you rock star mugged at the camera during "Not the Same", shoving your face near the screen, hands outstretched and lights swirling behind you.

As for me, I just stretched out and enjoyed, nibbling on chocolate cake and letting your deliciously whiny white-boy voice surround me as dark light from condos and trees kept good company.


Basically, our love is strong, dear Benjamin. And hey, if you ever find yourself in the market for a fifth wife, I'll be here.