The Good News: A Place to Bury Strangers didn’t blow my ear drums. Even better news, they kicked so much ass. My experiences with APTBS has taken place at either their home turf of Death By Audio or a venue slightly larger. This was the first time I had seen them at a venue of this size. Usually when you go to APTBS show at Death By Audio, the lights are bright, flickering, and — dare I say it — even at times colorful. During some moments of their performance, the band was swathed in a coat of darkness lit only by a film collage projected over them, bringing down the tone of the atmosphere just enough to invite their audience into their ritual. I’m not trying to be cute by using the word “ritual.” I’ve written about the phenomena of their performance many times, stating that what they do is ritualistic like some violent Druid ceremony to heap worship and offerings to their gods. The thrashing of guitars, the wild-eyed look and the intensity of their sound is always refreshing to experience. It separates our world of social networks and computers and the one that is more attuned with the powers of sonic energy. It is a beautiful thing to witness and the band really proved themselves to be capable of headlining any show rather than opening one up.

The Bad News: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart and The Kills just seemed kinda mismatched for this gig. Especially when the first band (APTBS) opens up with such ferocity. How does one follow an act like that? Maybe I didn’t drink enough or was too occupied with dodging photographers while entrenched in the pit. I don’t know. Either way, I was glad to see APTBS again.

FOR PICTURES OF THE PAINS OF BEING PURE AT HEART AND THE KILLS, PLEASE CLICK HERE.

Some of our reviews will include voices from two of our writers who were there — just in case you disagree or agree more with one or the other.

Pictures of bands are below.

THURSDAY JUNE 24, 2010

Mike and I met Kiani Angus-Torres in Northside Fest’s HQ, down on Bedford Ave. I was calling every writer I knew to see who would be available to cover for Mike Saturday and Sunday. No one was available. Upon hearing my distress, Kiani stepped in, offering to fill in. Here’s who she saw, heard, met.

Jive Grave @ Bruar Falls
Although their band was missing a drummer and bass for this last minute show, Jive Grave was full of gall and pride, performing music that can be described as the bastard child of Americana and Jazz, complete with twangy guitar solos over smooth keys. Jive Grave provides us with an unmade bed of purposeful chaos, featuring a brass section of a trumpet and bass sax, with Geo Wyeth on keys and guitar. Their fast songs are easy to bop and dance to, but you may very well find yourself stopping to just listen to the raw quality of the lyrics, as sung by a soulful Mr. Wyeth in a bitter blend of broken melody.

Jive Grave is a storytelling collective, whose satisfying performances leave us feeling a little happy, but also a little dirty. One of their tightest tunes, “So Funny; Maybe Death” offers a panoramic view of Wyeth’s own Bed-Stuy neighborhood which makes us nostalgic for the romance of a proper community in which everyone, including the musician living upstairs and the girls playing double-dutch, participates in a collective culture. Songs like this, and bands like Jive Grave, offer a certain depth of perspective and tilt of the lens, through which we see Brooklyn, thus making them an ideal addition0. — Kiani Angus-Torres

Chris Mills @ The Cameo Gallery

Seated under thousands of light-catching hanging strings, singer-songwriter Chris Mills brought some unassuming, mid-western down-home fun to Brooklyn’s Cameo Gallery. Mills’ band was a perfect balance of percussion, as played by Konrad Meissner, violin, by Jean Cook, and keys, by Max Crawford. Each element complimented the other, with high energy, and a sense of refreshing deep-felt sincerity.

It’s music you can take home to mom and dad, with enough edge that you’ll still feel hip listening to it on your own. Each song spells out the kind of sentimental moment and that we’ve all had a hum about in our own heads: absurd crushes, turning your frown upside down, or making light of heavy lessons. His between-song chatter, about seeing ‘Toy Story 3’, and his father’s brain surgery, was consistent with his style – matter-of-fact, and personable.

The setting was a bit unfitting – the string sculpture so imposing that it prevented the band from moving with the audience. A venue with a lower stage would have been more suitable for this entertaining ensemble that makes you want to rock out with your sweetheart, or perhaps find a sweetheart to rock out with. — Kiani Angus-Torres

DINOSAUR FEATHERS @ Public Assembly

Local natives from Brooklyn, Dinosaur Feathers performed at the Brooklyn Assembly at this years North Side Festival. The group fuses elements of afro-centrisim, reggae, calypso and soul, which is comparable to Columbia prep-sters Vampire Weekend and the harmonious, but classic Beach Boys. Even though they are only a 3-piece band, their 4th member the drum machine, which was stationed in a suitcase, added a more stylish and ample presence on stage. They provided catchy hooks and harmonies in unison, which almost felt like you were watching the show Jersey Boys. The only thing that gave it away was the member’s only jacket and the Williamsburg style of shorts (cut off jeans or jorts). During their set, they experienced some technical difficulties when their bass player broke a string. But luckily, these guys had a great sense of humor and referenced jokes about providing advice to their audience and jokes about G-d. Hopefully, next show everything will run smoother for them. Otherwise, they better have a list of more material to help warm up the crowd. — Mike Scher

Thao & Mirah with The Most of It All @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

One part folk and one part soul, these ingredients helped solidify the perfect recipe of indie rock songwriting through two renowned artists such as Thao Nguyen and Mirah. This side project or collaborative perspective of playing each other’s songs on stage with the help of backing band “Most of All” was a unique and fresh perspective to performance art that fused new styles of harmonies and a variety of instruments ranging from acoustic & electric guitar, the steel guitar, bongo’s, banjo, violin to the clarinet.

Mirah’s soft whisper, but warm sounded voice mesmerized the audience through her dark chord progressions and lounge sounding (jazz café) instrumentation. Her stand out track was the song “Gone Are the Days.” However, Thao’s high energy and funkier style of music was the perfect added element to her counterpart, especially with her sporadic yells to the crowd and playful storytelling. Her music reminded me a lot of Rilo Kiley, which is not surprising that she opened up for her back in 2008. Her stand out track was “When We Swam.”

Overall, the band was extremely tight and set the bar extremely high for forthcoming side projects. It helped provide a fresh and more exciting outlook to the live show. — Mike Scher

Friday June 25, 2010

MEN @ The Knitting Factory

Kiani’s take on the whole thing:

When in doubt, dance yourself Queer, and look out James Murphy, because MEN just showed you up in your own hood. After enduring several shows with only a handful of head-boppers and torso-twitchers, MEN brought it all on, and then took it all off.

We came upon the Knitting Factory on our way from Union Pool to Trash Bar, and were drawn in by a small crowd of hugging, laughing, smoking, faux-hawk-mullet-headed girls dressed like boys, boys dressed like girls dressed like boys, and the first SOLD OUT sign we’ve seen since the festival started.

The theme for this event, as indicated by the massive black-on-white DIY sign above the stage, was ‘Who Am I To Feel So Free?’, although it should go without questioning that this event was all but completely liberating. JD Samson, backed by nearly nude Michael O’Neil on bass and Ginger Brooks Takahashi on guitar, led the audience in a series of fist-pumping chants reminiscent of early gay-lib marchers, while dropping electro-pop inspired beats, and spitting simple, literal lyrics that almost made you want to think, if you weren’t too busy dancing and checking out the best looking crowd I’ve seen since…the last queer dance party I went to.

The theme was tied together by a performance piece in which the crumpled rainbow flag below the sign came to life, and presented a politically driven spoken-word piece. From the flag emerged a nude woman with short hair and white plastic glasses who kneeled in the middle of the stage as the band joined in, and the audience went wild. — – Kiani Angus-Torres

MEN @ The Knitting Factory

Sometimes walking into a music venue during a festival with the feeling of unfamiliarity of a line-up can help bring a renewed sense of life to the stage. This is because you’re delivered an open playbill of new bands and genres that could potentially be added to your rotation or playlist. For instance, the band “MEN” were one of the acts at this year’s Northside Festival that won me over as well as the packed crowd in Brooklyn’s Knitting Factory. Almost every person in the venue were singing along to the catchy hooks of synthesized indie pop, which reminded me of some preeminent bands such as The Gossip, The Sound and even Devo. This awesome threesome consisted 1/3 male of JD Samson of Le Tigre (female- lead singer /laptop/synthesizer), guitarists Michael O’Neill (male) and Ginger Brooks Takahashi (female). The backing rhythm played up their self-effacing style with a unique wardrobe of being topless, while in their underwear dancing around in ballet shoes and high heels, while the singer wore an army one suit. Most importantly, “MEN” not only played the soundtrack to the party, but also instilled important messages of individuality, the idea of being comfortable with one’s own sexuality and women’s rights. Towards the end of the set, an audio file of spoken word was being played as a blanket was removed off the stage and a woman popped up in minimal clothing chanting along hymns about women’s liberation with the singer. The overall tone was extremely supportive. No matter what your sexual preference was or where you came from, there was a strong sense of togetherness amidst the perspiring show-goers.

Despite their serious tone, the band also played quirky upbeat songs that contained unusual lyrics, especially for the song “Credit Card Babies”- – “I’m going to fuck my friends and make a little tiny baby” and another song poking fun at the band 30H3 for biting their style.

Stand Out Tracks:

“Off Our Backs”
“Credit Card Babies”

Overall, “MEN” were one of my favorite bands at this year’s festival. It just comes to show you to stop being responsible by planning an itinerary. Just have fun! — Mike Scher

The Brought Low @ The Trash Bar

After a gay old time at Knitting Factory, we finally made our way over to Trash Bar for a crowd of a different color, or at least a different gender identity. As The Brought Low tuned up and spat a little chatter about rock bands, a member of the audience ceremoniously shouted, “ROCK AND ROOOLLL!!!” and so begun a proper Rock and Roll show. In fine order, the lead singer/guitarist and bassist donned the appropriate attire – worn- out black logo tees, relaxed fitted jeans, and black Vans and Chuck Taylors, respectively. Head-banging? Yes. Fist-pumping? Absolutely. And a sassy PBR & whisky soaked audience to boot. Sample dialogue:

Lead Singer: This song is called ‘Everybody Loves a Whore’

Drunk guy: Fuck you! I hate whores!

The sound was a throwback to post-hair, pre-grunge rock, ala Guns & Roses, with the ever looming influence of Led Zeppelin. The Brought Low is your brother’s band who used to make too much noise in the basement, and who you thought sucked until one of your girlfriends decided they had a crush on the bassist and you actually went to see them, and they actually rocked.  — Kiani Angus-Torres

Saturday June 27, 2010

Mike was in North Carolina for a wedding. Kiani hung out at the Knitting Factory while Carlos roamed endlessly, looking for that great big show.

ZAZA @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

Oh! Capital letters! With the country swept up by Tao Lin-style lower case writing, ZAZA ups the irony ante with a set steeped in the dark art of breathy vocals, mopey ambient music and a band name that defiantly sits up straight. Jennifer Fraser’s bass rumbled throughout the music hall and the percussion worked tribal rhythms as she and guitarist, Danny Taylor exchanged vocal duties. It didn’t take long to recognize the Radiohead influence and an audience who appeared to be enjoying themselves. — Carlos Detres

Savoir Adore @ Brooklyn Bowl

Americana/Indie band, Savoir Adore was one of the most anticipated bands of the festival but they could also be mistaken as a charicature of themselves due to Brooklyn’s tendency toward troubadourism rather than balls-out Rock and Roll. One could easily succumb to numb ears after hearing many similar-sounding bands but it would be a mistake. If the critic’s ears are powered off for a few songs, accute emotional moments may occur. Both singers harmonized together under the sparkling dashes of light from the giant disco ball of Brooklyn Bowl and the track of spotlights turned green and blue like halos. The mood matched the music they played; stringed, pained, and often defiant stuff. — Carlos Detres

Reading Rainbow @ The Knitting Factory

How about this? How about we just bang a drum, play some electric guitar, and sing loud and well harmonized? And we call it something simple, cute, and fun, because that’s who we are…. READING RAINBOW! The impact-ful candor of this band was truly refreshing, and their soulful rhythms (finally!) got the crowd dancing, and a couple were even inspired to have a push-up contest! The Philly-based pair, Robbie Gee on guitar and Sarah Eee on drums, were attentive and purposeful in their performance, reminding us that less is more, and may even be more fun. — Kiani Angus-Torres

The Beets @ The Knitting Factory

This carefree, adorable pop-punk/post-punk inspired trio hails from Jackson Heights, Queens. In keeping with Reading Rainbow, who had played just before them, The Beets’ songs were made up of simple melodies and a standing drummer who stuck to banging out the basics — tom, floor tom, and snare. They also seemed to have the freakiest prop of the festival – a lady-manikin head with a black mohawk, and enormous translucent blue eyes.  — Kiani Angus-Torres

xx xy Dance Party @ Public Assembly, Featuring DJ sets by VHS or Beta, Trash Yourself, Kids at the Bar, and more

This free, late night show became the alamo, should anything go wrong, like lackluster bands, closed venues, bar wretches strangling eachother on the street. So the lights went out in the back of Public Assembly and rising with the darkness was the crescendo of dirty, electro goodness, spun by some folks you didn’t know DJ’d — or if you did, you didn’t know they were this good.

The music sounded like a Lords of Acid orgy without all of the silly lyrics and pills. The music was hard, electric, nasty, meaty, and relentless. I admit bad reporting, being ignorant to the names of all of the DJs but you can pick any name and it wouldn’t matter since their styles were so similar, only increasing in gut-wrenching velocity.

I do know this.

There was a girl. She had black hair and a pretty face and she manipulated the music more distinctly skillful than the rest of her crew.  Wherever you are, pretty lady, thank you for rocking out this Saturday night. We needed it. — Carlos Detres

Sunday June 27, 2010

Boy oh boy was it hot on this day but what a way to end a 4 day party.

Les Savy Fav @ Newtown Barge Park – The Metro PCS Stage

This was Rock and Roll. This was a real Rock and Roll band, complete with the savage lead singer and a band that could pick up on its singer’s antics and enhance his presence. I’ve been a fan of Les Savy Fav for a few years and have heard things, things that made the hairs of my skin perk up. Yes, Tim Harrington, lead singer for Les Savy Fav is the barbarian everyone said he was but he was pure beauty; the composed signature of Rock and Roll, bearded and wrought with a passionate zeal to share his love of music and the live show with an audience who had come to see his band play.

Harrington ripped a can of jubilation and pandemonium, inviting audience members to sing the words he was probably too breathless to sing. He would jump off the stage, run through the park, while the stage’s tech crew chased after him, feeding his mic the cable, while it whipped through the crowd. At one point, he stood on a stack of speakers and shot a snot rocket, narrowly missing my face but then he made up for it by grabbing someone’s water bottle and shoving it into my mouth, followed by someone else’s can of beer.

For me, for us, Les Savy Fav closed out the festival properly, leaving its audience something to look forward to next year, and something to look back on for years to come. — Carlos Detres

I debated whether to include any of the bands that preceded Les Savy Fav but after their blitzkrieg performance, I needed to dedicate a post solely to them. Enjoy the pictures of a performance from a band who really care about Rock and Roll. All pictures are from June 27, 2010 @ Metro PCS Park.

All pictures were taken at L Magazine’s Northside Festival in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

Pictures of ZAZA @ Music Hall of Williamsburg, and The Tony Castles, and Savoir Adore @ Brooklyn Bowl, including a pic from underground in The Trash Bar.

All pictures were taken at L Magazine’s Northside Festival in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

MEN featuring JD Samson of Le Tigre @ Knitting Factory, The Brought Low @ The Trash Bar, bathroom of Death by Audio, and other miscellanea.

All pictures were taken at L Magazine’s Northside Festival in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

By Carlos Detres

I read an article over a year ago in Time Out New York by Christian Lorentzen called, “Why the Hipster Must Die” .

It’s a passionate and contemptuous piece written by a talented writer who misunderstands, as most people do, the character of subculture. What he’s most upset it about is that cool now belongs to a less deserving group of people.

Describing the hipster, Lorentzen writes:

“Yes, the assassins of cool still walk our streets: Any night of the week finds the East Village, the Lower East Side and Williamsburg teeming with youth—a pageant of the bohemian undead. These hipster zombies—now more likely to be brokers or lawyers than art-school dropouts—are the idols of the style pages, the darlings of viral marketers and the marks of predatory real-estate agents. And they must be buried for cool to be reborn.”

For a writer to survey, analyze, and demonize an entire population and announce a takeback of “cool” is pretty stunning. Writers aren’t purveyors of cool. I’m not and neither is he but for every generation there is always a smartass or two who, during the height of a cultural epoch, turns the pistol of his pen to a scapegoat and pulls the trigger. The problem is not with them.

In the 1960s an entire generation revolted against its elders values, including segregation, the Vietnam War, and women’s and gay rights. In the 1970s there was an infamous incident in which a disc jockey in Chicago openly destroyed disco records in Comiskey Park, setting off a riot of rock fans in fear of the demise of their favorite music. In the 1980s, it was the war on drugs — the excuse made to criminalize lifestyle under the guise of cocaine and civility. The 1990s surge of raves and burgeoning dance club scene resulted in the deafening decision by Rudolph Giuliani to enforce the antiquated Cabaret Law that was once reserved for illegal cabarets. Today it’s the multi-media sources of the blogosphere, YouTube, print, and television against itself. Just do a search for “hipster” and you’ll see sites dedicated to the expression of hatred toward the hipster.

I’m sure he meant well when he declared a “civil war” on hipsters but it only further promulgates the subject he so loathes. The title of the article doesn’t lack the irony that Lorentzen abhors. His piece was included in an issue devoted to all things hipster in an effort by TONY to voice both sides of this supposed subcultural movement but what needs to be said is that there is no such thing as a hipster. It’s a myth.

I agree that there are identifiable people who are the “darlings of viral marketers”, reinforced by retailers such as American Apparel and Urban Outfitters. I agree that every girl wants to look like the sartorially gifted Karen O. but there is no pedantic chivalry like the Beats exhibited. There is no philosophical unity like what was shared between the Transcendentalist. There is no movement for complete and utter social change like the ’60s generation committed themselves to (amongst other things). Our modern time is all image and marketing and the media bathes in the conflagration.

What should be noted, what escapes so many is that there is still relevance even if it appears to have no meaning. People identify problems in society in the one that wears it the best. It has all been image and has been since the days of (god I hate this word) grunge. The simple title of “cool” belongs to those who wear, breathe, and identify their position individually, which can be anyone. If there was any modern cultural heroism it died with Dash Snow.

Our current station that many disdain is really something we have all contributed to. Our desire for debauchery, attire, money, fancy haircuts, and nice apartments have poured into the same pool. We just wear different clothes. If a subculture becomes more apparent it’s because it has something to say even if it’s some kind of convoluted nihilism or anti-corporate/closet-corporate movement. Unfortunately, this kind of rhetoric isn’t limited to hipsters. It continues to goths, hippies, hardcore kids, punks, and my own guilty scapegoat — suits. To quote an aphorism: “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”

It’s in retrospect that we look back at the old days with a different sort of eye, an older eye, a wiser eye — and most gut-wrenching — the eye of a nostalgic heart because it’s the ones we despise that will cause us to remember the best and worst parts of us. When we look in the mirror we’ll find that the scapegoat was ourselves.

La Strada @ Dam, Stuhltrager Gallery, Summber Backyard Series

Bookending the Northside Festival

The dark wooden floor of Public Assembly in Williamsburg, Brooklyn creaked as a patron quietly requested another drink from the bartender, whose gaze had been fixed upon the stage filled with six musicians. The bartender turned, quickly procured a can of an unknown beer, placed it on top of the bar then folded his arms as the patron returned to the mass of onlookers watching the curly haired singer of La Strada croon into the mic, pushing and pulling apart the pleated bellows of an accordion.

The backing string section converted the cavernous room into a Midwestern prairie, adorning it with an imagined verdant veneer of an old American era when people gathered to listen to stories of heartbreak and loss. Then, when it was over, the smiling audience quietly shuffled away and the band returned the instruments to their silent casings.

This quintet (and sometimes septet) of pan-American musicians was the fitting bookend for the Northside Festival – a celebration of music and art held at manifold venues throughout Greenpoint and Williamsburg back in June to showcase the culturally diverse influences seen and heard in these neighborhoods.

La Strada, which means “the road” in Italian, is an appropriate name for a band whose members had come together from different regions of America to this plot of land on the north end of Brooklyn. By way of friends and Craigslist, the band joined piecemeal throughout the two years of its existence from California, Vermont, Kentucky, and New York to make an infused amalgamation of music influenced by Americana folk and European ‘60s pop.

Lead singer and the man behind the accordion, James Craft explained the evolution of La Strada’s sound, saying, “I spent a lot of time in Europe so I had that coming at me. It was an amazing and satisfying direction to take for me.” Being in close proximity to some of Europe’s more traditional music influenced Craft to learn and play his instrument. Joined by bassist, Devon Press, guitarist, Ted Lattis, violinist, Daniel Baer, and drummer, Brady Miller, the band has issued a catalogue of music that is both clear and profound.

When asked how the band had adopted its name, Craft says, “We spent a lot of good time working on the name. We watched a lot of Fellini’s films together and it seemed that the names had these nice open-ended sounds. Then we watched La Strada. It was a really good movie so why not go for this? For me, the name was so symbolic but it was so clear and simple.”

La Strada has been on the move throughout the States and receiving approbation from audiences that tend to be fickle about bands they’ve never heard of. But music that flows with honesty, passion, and technical skill can fortify the unseen aura of a group of musicians as well versed in their own language as these guys are.

This past Februrary, the band released its debut E.P. – a collection of six songs meticulously crafted by all members of the band and what it delivered was a supple beginning of the road less traveled by most people – the exhibition of one’s own declaration of willful expression.

La Strada’s self titled debut E.P.

The band’s style is en vogue at the moment, with bands like Gogol Bordello, Devotchka, and Beirut; however La Strada’s distinct sound is represented by their self-titled E.P. - a blend of cinematic imagery, folk melody, and crisp songwriting that is meant to include the listener on the band’s emotional history.

Songs like, “Flying”, “Starling”, and “Mama” indicate a unit of musicians that regard story telling and composition as equal components for rich songwriting. “Orphan”, for example, exhibits sensitivity to both American and European influences. Miller’s thunderous drums are strong and prevalent and Craft sings reassuring words to enhance the bold theme that the song portrays.

One of the albums best moments is illustrated in “Mama” – a heart rending song that begins with one long note on the accordion, which is soon accompanied by Lattis’ mournful guitar, and backing vocals. A nostalgic melody is played on a toy piano to let the listener in on a message sung by Craft to his mother who passed away when he was a young boy. The song ends with a lasting note on the accordion to bring it back to the beginning, like a closed book, and is met with the opening notes of “Starling” – perhaps the strongest song on the E.P.

“Starling”, in contrast to “Mama” is a greeting to a newly realized experience – the cinematic closure of this compilation of music. It is both elegant and complex in its composition but does not saunter off into intangible territory. Although the lyrics on La Strada’s E.P. aren’t fancy in a contrived kind of way, they are poignant and deliver a response to the strife and hope of the human condition.

From the Northside Festival to some of the band’s favorite clubs in Chicago, La Strada performs for its audiences a new kind of folk music that is both existential as it is engaging. The group currently has plans to release its first full length album in the next five to six months.

La Strada’s Performance Dates

07/10 New York, NY @ Webster Hall w/the Subjects

07/16 Charlottesville, VA @ Tea Bazaar

07/17 Norfolk, VA @ The Boot

07/18 Washington, D.C. @ IOTA

You could succeed in a debate that Jabbo Smith kept Louis Armstrong on his toes while the two competed for the best trumpeter of the Crescent City. But these musicians’ lives diverted after the late ’20s, with one derelegating himself to alcohol and decadence (one of our favorite past times) and the other was memorialized with an old slave hangout spot that was converted into a grandiose park, his name in large letters greeting tourists and residents to the verdant pasture.

Jabbo Smith eventually faded into obscurity in the ’30s and then worked his way to Milwaukee with occasional sojourns to New York City and settling down at an automobile company, becoming a working stiff. In the ’60s, Smith’s popularity recovered as old recordings were brought out of the archives. He continued playing through the ’70s and ’80s until he passed away on January 16, 1991 at the age of 82 but not before learning of his acceptance to the Coastal Jazz Hall of Fame.

Although the prime of his career was short, Smith managed an important catalogue of music that has influenced everyone from Dizzy Gillespie to Don Cherry. Provided for you is a sample of his work. Enjoy and laissez les bon temps roulez. (by the way, this is our 100th posting!)

Last night, I edged away from entertaining people with pretty words about pretty things at some open mic

night that was caught between a hot sunny day and the torrential evening pour of rain. I had an old copy of a Whiskey Dregs collection of writing and in between the pages was a little freak story, called “The Fly” that ended with a fly’s face appearing on the endowed ass of a woman while fornicating (I’m being polite, see?).

There’s more to the story than that but I was reading for people whose opinion I could have cared less about and what prevailed was exactly what I intended to spin – a horrific balance of pornography and violence.

As someone who is heavily influenced by photgrapher, Joel Peter Witkin, I don’t always profess beauty in the superficial sense – at least not philosophically. Beauty is complex and art should sometimes represent the savagery of our innate nature (as it already does). Ugliness is essential to recognize beauty, even to embellish it (paradox, anyone?). Ugliness is what makes beauty sophisticated because the knowledge and expression of these undesired characteristics of humanity is what distinguishes us from every other species.

The story I read, in spite of its repulsive content, portrayed the act of consumption, comparing human sexuality with the voracious hunger of maggots and how, after a while, this act eventually ends with death or, as the closing moments of an orgasm is called in French, le petite mort. Accepting life or giving life is to accept death or give death and our insatiable desire for sex is the silent voice of our genes echoing our past, present, and then passing our history on to subsequent generations.

What I wanted to do with this story was strip down the characters to what they really were – savage animals, with one goal, just like the maggots – to survive. It just so happens that the act of sex feels pretty good too. It’s supposed to.

Tears of Eros

If you’re interested in reading more on this topic, check out Tears of Eros by the French author and outlaw philosopher, George Bataille. He had a good deal to say about these things. Although the book includes a lot of nonsense, it is also rich with ideas that will cause uncomfortable questions about who and what we really are as a species, .