There’s a certain sense of home that I had as a kid, one that faded as I got older, ’til I eventually lost it completely around the age of 17. But before the age of 10, it was strong, and I lived for it. It was a feeling of family and home-cooked meals at my grandma’s house and warmth. It wasn’t about the actual house I lived in, but the love within it and the feeling of togetherness among my parents and I. Sure, there were rough times, but I knew that no matter what, I’d always have a place to come back to–my refuge. I considered my room a personal sanctuary. Back then, I had no perception of price or what it took to own something, but it felt like my home belonged to me much more than anything I actually possess today. There was a deeply rooted and organic sense of “mine” then, one that had nothing to do with money or titles or deeds, but how much love you had for something.
Even when I wasn’t home, the feeling stuck with me. I carried it with me to school and back. The one piece of home I waited for every day was the sound of my mom’s keys. No one else’s keys made the exact sound hers did, and I could tell she was around just by hearing them. As soon as I heard that familiar chime, I’d become ecstatic and run around looking for her.
As I got into my teen years, that feeling of home no longer came with me when I was away from my family. It felt as though the idea of it was slowly falling apart. When I was home, my parents were out. When my parents were at home, I was out. That’s when I started to realize I had my own world, my own planet, if you will. Life started feeling more like I was a visitor in a strange place, far away from my home. Every now and again, I’d run into people or things that seemed to have come from the same planet as I did, but that was rare. Most of the time, I just felt like a tourist, and that comforting sense of “mine” was swept away in a foreign wind.
There eventually came a point where I could no longer find any sense of home. My parents became different people. The rest of my family either passed away or moved to other states. I moved into places that were far from the concept of home I’d grown up with, even during the times I lived with my father. And the people I surrounded myself with, including lovers, were definitely not from my home-planet. Not even from the same galaxy.
I detached from everything. Nothing was mine. I floated in space for a while. And while I always had a roof over my head, I was homeless at heart. I assumed I’d never get it back.
Then I found him. And from the very first conversation, I knew he was from my world. It was like we’d grown up together, like he had always been there. And in time, the feeling I thought I’d never feel again… returned.
We belong to each other, for the worth of love alone. And it hit me today: He is my home. That warmth, that love, that feeling of safe refuge; he invokes that in me. He is my sanctuary. He embodies the taste of the peanut butter cream o’ wheat that my grandpa used to make me, the spinning rainbow colors of the heart mobile that used to hang above my crib, and the sound of my mother’s keys; everything I’ve ever cherished.
He is strange, uncharted new land that requires exploring, and at the same time, somehow completely familiar. With each moment spent together, it seems we expand our planet. We may have lost the rest of our civilization, but we have somehow found each other, and it’s up to us to protect our world and help it grow–to build upon what we remember of home. After all we’ve endured, I believe we owe it to ourselves to create our own Promised Land, and there is no one I’d rather have by my side through every second of it.
In the spirit of the recently passed Valentine’s Day, beyond the “true meaning” of the holiday and all its commercialism, beyond all the hype and the hate, I wish you all one thing: That you find whatever, wherever, or whomever makes you feel like home.
Artists Anonymous is a monthly zine dedicated to spreading the word about local artists. You can get your copy at various local Los Angeles art shows/events, and learn where we will be next on Facebook.
Also, follow AA on Twitter: @AAddicted2Art
If you’re an artist who’d like to be featured in future issues, shoot us an email: ArtistsAnonymous4u@gmail.com
It’s a new year, folks, and also a new start for Artists Anonymous.
This zine has taken on a life of its own, and gained more readers than we ever expected. We’ve featured over 50 artists of all kinds since we started 10 months ago. We’ve worked with wonderful organizations like Food Not Bombs, and have been present to hand out our (always free) issues at a number of events, galleries, and artwalks all over the Los Angeles area. Artists Anonymous even had its own gallery night at Bootleg Collective in Downtown LA. Along the way, we’ve met loads of great people and interesting characters from all walks of life. Overall, our own creation took us on quite a journey, both locally and mentally, to places we would not have experienced otherwise.
For the past year, we’ve also received the common question: Why is the zine called Artists Anonymous? It’s often pointed out that, though most of the artists don pseudonyms, many of them aren’t anonymous at all. While the creators (Bxbby Zxmbie and Perches) likely have their own opinion of what the name stands for, Artists Anonymous means a few things to me. Firstly, it relates to art as an identity. For most artists, their creations are the most honest representation of themselves. You can get an understanding of someone by knowing them, but it isn’t until they create something that you are truly able to witness the inside of their head. Art is faceless, and it’s the only thing that conveys and invokes genuine emotion without direct contact with the creator. Secondly, and most importantly, to me it represents an addiction. For true artists, it’s more than just something they want to do–it’s something they HAVE to do. It’s less of a choice and more of a lifestyle. For some of us, this is therapy; a way to make tangible what’s overflowing from our minds; a mental consolidation of sorts; a process of order amongst the chaos within. It’s how we cope, how we survive. In the simplest of words: it is our fix.
Looking back, it’s easy to see that 2011 was quite a tumultuous year. We witnessed the full embrace and acceptance of street art as a valid art form, and relived its history through the “Art In The Streets” exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art. We were permitted a glimpse of the original artwork that inspired some of the biggest influences in pop culture, presented in exhibits like Tim Burton’s at the Museum of Modern Art. We experienced a political uprising that utilized artistic means to spread its message, and saw the next evolution of literary and comic art take life, both on the big screen and the small screen.
Our hope for the new year is that it further fuels the fire of innovation, and welcomes new faces and names to the world of art. We look forward to the next evolution of imagination and however it may be presented. As for A.A., you can be sure we will continue to share new art and hopefully grow to expand our reach. We dream of being able to team up with artists worldwide and share them with you. Special thanks to all who contributed and supported us during our first year, and much love to everyone involved in the future of Artists Anonymous. We love you all.
Artists Anonymous is a monthly zine dedicated to spreading the word about local artists. You can get your copy at various local Los Angeles art shows/events, and learn where we will be next on Facebook.
Also, follow AA on Twitter: @AAddicted2Art
If you’re an artist who’d like to be featured in future issues, shoot us an email: ArtistsAnonymous4u@gmail.com
I’m not usually one to concern myself with mainstream controversy, especially when it comes to today’s pop artists. Not since grade school have I been a fan of pop. In fact, as time goes on, I find I enjoy less and less of anything on the “top 40s”, which may be partially attributed to the fact that I’m simply getting older and thus further away from the music I was raised on. For example, I find Kesha’s voice to be horrid, and Lady Gaga to be one big gimmick based on image to completely distract from her uninteresting vocals and over-processed music. Every now and then, something “popular” breaks through the bullsh*t and seems honest, raw, and actually talented, like The Black Keys, but most other bands and artists today drip with a certain insincerity that I just can’t respect, no matter how hard I try.
2 nights ago, while lounging on the couch, typing away on my laptop, my better half was channel surfing when we came across the beginning of a music video that caught our eye for a moment. A man and a woman embraced in front of an American flag background, under a sepia hue to imply a vintage tone. Then the image of the woman sitting on a throne of sorts in a cathedral between 2 tigers, cut between clips of her making out with the tattooed lead guy in a car. While the visuals were beautiful, the video alone wouldn’t have been enough to keep me intrigued, but there was something different about this girl and her voice. The music was alluring and her sultry vocals were a mix of something retro, and something very very new. It was very different from the soulful throwback sounds of Adele or Amy Winehouse. Her voice would range from deep and dark to a higher pitched, more innocent sound that took me on an emotional journey through the song.
At first, I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. While her voice seemed so deep at some points, it was off pitch from the music, there was something very honest about it. My better half sensed it too, and immediately YouTube’d “Lana Del Rey”, which led him to a video called “Video Games”. The video was interesting: clips of old 1960s home movies mixed with shots of Lana singing to what looked to be a cheap laptop camera that one might use to upload videos to the internet. While it made me understand immediately what this girl was about, there was still something different and strange about it, just like the previous video I’d seen, but on a much lower budget. The song was even stranger. Again, I didn’t know what to think of it at first. The lyrics were oddly written and I couldn’t tell what the song was about, but by the middle of it, I was sure I liked it. I don’t know who writes the music for her tracks, but there was something infinitely haunting about the song, with subtle twists where she inquisitively serenades, “I hear you like the bad girls, honey. Is that true?” which for some reason became one of my favorite parts.
My boyfriend remained more skeptical than I about what exactly was being marketed to him through this artist, and if it was sincere or simply another way to package a vintage sound strictly for financial gain. Later that night, he spotted an article about Lana Del Rey and the controversy over her performing on Saturday Night Live the next night. Apparently, a lot of people were upset by this because she hadn’t even put an album out yet. Looking into a bit further, I learned that Lana Del Rey was actually Elizabeth Grant, 25 year old daughter of millionaire Rob Grant, who paid for his daughter’s marketing. It started to make sense why people were upset and likely questioning if daddy paid for her to be on the show, despite not earning a spot.
I wasn’t about to write her off for simply being wealthy. I was intrigued, and waiting patiently for her SNL performance, which occurred last night. Though she looked gorgeous, like the majority of people who also witnessed it, I was sorely disappointed by her live version of “Video Games”. It just… wasn’t good. She seemed very nervous while singing, which was probably due to the pressure that escalated from the previous days’ gossip. There was an overwhelming expectation for her to blow everyone away to show that she had earned the right to perform on SNL, and while it didn’t go very well, I felt kind of bad for her. Watching her get through the first few verses, she had this look on her face that told you she knew it was bad, but she pushed through it like a champ, and I found that kind of endearing because it was still so much more sincere than a lot of SNL performances I’ve seen.
Despite it all, this morning, as soon as I woke up, I found the song floating around my skull like a ghostly echo, “It’s you. It’s you. It’s all for you…”, and it’s been haunting me ever since. Coincidentally, I came to find that Juliette Lewis shared similar mixed sentiments about Lana Del Rey and her performance.
Last night, Twitter blew up with all kinds of creative insults about Lana Del Rey. But, while I acknowledge that the performance was baaaaad, I have a deep deep admiration for anyone who writes their own songs, especially when it comes to females. I feel that she is still very inexperienced on stage, but that makes her somewhat fresh and untouched by the usual mainstream bullcrap, and I like that. The girl’s got a hell of a voice and true potential. She just needs a little time and practice to refine her craft before doing bigger gigs. I don’t doubt that, if she can survive the current backlash, she’ll bounce back with a vengeance. While there are songs I don’t care much for, such as “Smarty” and “Brite Lites” because they sound like every other pop jingle, songs like “Born To Die”, “Video Games”, and “Yayo” are strong and really show her true talents. I have faith in this girl, and I hope she gets past the hype, the criticism, and the bullcrap in general and really finds herself and her calling as a singer/songwriter, despite what daddy or the mainstream scene wants.
You’re at a fairly small comedy venue, enjoying the show. The place is alive with laughter, and everyone around you seems to be having a great time. Everyone… except the person in front of you. A woman, to be exact, sitting with her husband, leaning back in her chair, arms folded with a “you don’t impress me” look on her face. There is almost nothing more annoying.
If you’ve been to a number of comedy shows as I have, chances are, you’ve witnessed this type of person. There’s at least one at every show. I can’t count how many times I’ve witnessed females, even sitting right in front of the stage, texting, talking on the phone, loudly chatting it up with their table with no regard for the crowd or the comedian, sometimes even heckling. Guys do it too. In fact, at the last show I attended, one guy in the front row decided to fall asleep, despite the roaring laughter around him. But girls are definitely the more consistent offenders.
People are inconsiderate. That’s to be expected. What I find most offensive is when someone goes to a comedy show to sit there and stare blankly at the talent, as if they’re participating in some kind of challenge and winning by not even cracking a smile. Those who do this kind of thing aren’t achieving anything. It doesn’t make them cooler or better or more special than anyone else because they’re going against the flow. It just makes them douchebags.
Sure, there are times when a comedian completely bombs, or you simply don’t find their material funny. It happens. That’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the type of people who pay to get in and sit there throughout the whole show with an “I bet you can’t amuse me” attitude. Sometimes people only do this after a comedian tells a joke that personally offends them. But here’s the thing about comedy: Just as there’s at least one person who will find each joke funny, there’s at least one person who will find each joke offensive. Jerry Sadowitz said it best, “Being offended is a tax you pay to laugh at jokes which offend other people”. If you aren’t fan of baseball, don’t go to a game. If you’re easily offended or don’t like to laugh, don’t go to a comedy club.
Whatever the case, when you attend a stand up event, you pay money to get in. If you don’t like the jokes, that’s not the comedian’s problem. He’s already got your money. It’s your own problem for being stupid enough to pay for something you refuse to be entertained by. And heckling only means you like to draw attention to yourself, despite the fact that no one paid to hear YOU talk. In a match of wit and insults, comedians are trained professionals, and you’ve brought a knife to a gun fight. Prepare to be publicly humiliated and likely kicked out by security. Yay, you!
What I’m saying is, if you’re going to attend a comedy show, try being open-minded and receptive. If you don’t care for the material, don’t ruin it for everyone else by being a douche. And if you don’t want to be there, or if you have better things to do than simply sit, listen, and laugh; do everyone else the favor and leave. Some of us are trying to have a good time, you know, the very reason one goes to a comedy show.
For those of you who aren’t enemies of fun, thank you for being you. I look forward to laughing with you.
Saturday the 15th was the Spike Scream Awards. Any free time Joker and I had during the week leading up to it was spent applying the gartered leg prosthetic wounds we’d bought from the lovely Meaghan of Open Wound FX. Joker applied and made them up 3 times that week, in preparation for the event, and they held up perfectly through quite a lot of use.
If you didn’t already guess that these are graphic, well, now you know…
(The necklace was made by my other artsy friend Ezabell. Her site is here: www.lebeautyexorcist.com. There are more pictures of her products coming soon!!)
When I made my account on 1iota.com to get tickets for the Scream Awards, I posted a bunch of pictures of myself in various costumes in an attempt to show how festive I can be to entice them to give me good tickets. Well, it worked, and I secured 2 PRIORITY pit tickets. When we arrived at the Universal set, they placed us and the rest of the pit fans in a stand that overlooked the red carpet area, where the press was waiting and welcoming all the celebs into the event. The theatrical group, Lucent Dossier, had their own little corner of the red carpet area, and were improving as best they knew how. There was a lot of spanking and whipping going on between girls. It was interesting to say the least. LOL.
They made us stand at the red carpet area for 3-4 hours, and then led us down to the set, which looked AMAZING. It was evil-carnival themed, complete with a big clown face, a giant claw machine, a large screen, a keyhole walkway from which the celebs emerged, and doll house backgrounds where fans and performers sat in big windows looking over a walkway sitting on water. It was really well-done; the best set they’ve had so far, in my opinion.
We had literally the best “seat” in the house, though it was more of a standing area, as pit fans were not meant to sit. From where I was, nearly every celeb had to pass by me to make their way to the center of the stage. I was about 4 feet from many of them, which was really awesome, especially when people like Robert Downey Jr. and Gary Oldman walked by. Pee-Wee Herman ended up riding a bike (set on a raft) above the water right in front of me. You can even spot Joker and I a few times during the show.
Here’s a pic of most of the set. The red arrow is where I was standing, just behind the railing. The stairs to the right are where celebs emerged from a giant keyhole to walk down to the center platform, above the water.
Shamelessly stolen from BxBBy ZxMBiE's Facebook page.
The costumes alone this year were phenomenal. People really outdid themselves! Almost every costume was self-made, and it seemed people actually put quite a bit of effort into them. I was very happy to see such a festive crowd. =)
After standing for a total of about 8 hours (in wedge boots, no less!) my feet were DONE. I limped my way to the bus that took us back to the parking lot, only to travel up and down 6 floors of cars to find my own. I’ve never lost my car before, but luckily, I found it, and we made our way back to our neighborhood for some late night fast food and some much-needed sleep.
Here’s a screen-cap I stole from when we first arrived. This was from the red carpet pre-show they aired online.
Chances are, if you know me, you probably haven’t heard me speak much about politics. In fact, I tend to avoid focusing on political issues altogether, as they generally piss me off and leave me feeling jaded and helpless, and I don’t care to feel like that all the time. I’m an optimist by nature, and I prefer to make the most of the beauty and positivity that this short life has to offer.
But there comes a time when things get to a breaking point. I feel the struggle everyday and it’s getting worse. I witness it in others’ lives. I see it affect my friends and family. It’s getting to a ridiculous point that I can no longer ignore, and everything is finally coming to a head.
Some of you have heard of the Occupy Together movement. Many of you have not. The reason for this being that the media has, up until recently, refused to cover it. For those of you who aren’t aware of the movement, allow me to explain.
Occupy Wall Street in New York City was the first of the protests, and it is still going on to date. It started as a group of individuals from all walks of life peacefully camping out, day and night, in front of Wall Street to speak out against the greed and power that large corporations have upon politics and our everyday lives. Over 1/3 of this nation’s wealth belongs to 1% of America, while the other 99% of us continue to pay dearly through high costs for gas and energy, and as victims of the injustices that have caused our economy to fail. Today is the 17th day of the protest. The “occupiers” have grown to at least a few thousand people and have welcomed many workers’ unions into the mix. And as of now there are 77 cities around the country organizing Occupy protests, as well as a few major cities, internationally. The movement is massive and growing every day.
This is a beautifully done video from day 5.
Of course, this uprising doesn’t come without resistance.
On day 8 of Occupy Wall Street, without provocation, the NYPD rushed the massive crowd, attempting to herd them like cattle with giant orange mesh ribbons. Much of the struggle was aired on Youtube, including footage of police cornering a few peaceful girls onto a sidewalk and then pepper spraying them, and shoving one photographer into a car for taking pictures of the occurring brutality.
This was the first media airing of Occupy Wall Street that I witnessed.
There have also been some issues with sites attempting to suppress word of the protests. It was speculated that Twitter (which JPMorgan Chase & Co. has a $400 million stake in) blocked the “#OccupyWallStreet” hashtag from being on its Top Trends list, even though it was more popular than anything that was actually featured on the list. YouTube halted the option to comment on a few of the Occupy videos, and I personally noticed a problem with Facebook when attempting to post about anything about the protests, as did a few of my friends. Posting would either result in an error message or it would post to my page, but not my feed so that others could view it.
Yesterday was the first day of Occupy Los Angeles, which was held in front of City Hall in Downtown Los Angeles in the same peaceful solidarity as New York’s protest. I was in attendance, as was Evil Carny Boyfriend and all of my roommates. We packed our signs and hopped on the Metro. Though we missed the march from Pershing Square to City Hall, we arrived just in time for the official occupation. The turnout was amazing; a highly diverse crowd that only grew as the day went on.
Surprisingly, everyone there was ridiculously nice and generous (and I say surprisingly because Los Angeles is notorious for its high douche-bag population). Free waters were handed out, even with the option to add powdered electrolytes to keep everyone hydrated. Free sunblock was supplied as needed. At some point, a truck pulled up to the side of City Hall and the driver jumped out and opened the back to reveal cases upon cases of soda as well as a big stack of pizza boxes. We were handed a case as well as a whole pizza to take what we needed and pass them down. A food truck called The Wein even handed out free hotdogs, with whatever toppings we pleased. I don’t think I’ve ever been part of such a polite and considerate crowd. Songs were sung, chants were chanted, inspirational speakers and poets rocked the mics and megaphones throughout the day. Many of us devoted much of our time to the edges of the block with our signs to motivate people in traffic and received a TON of support in return. Overall, everyone seemed very united and driven.
Also quite surprising were the actions of LAPD. A police picnic had been scheduled on the opposite side of City Hall at the same time Occupy LA was supposed to happen. The organizers of the protest corresponded with police before the event, and the cops actually welcomed us to share the lawn with them until the picnic ended, in which we could then occupy the whole lawn ourselves. Even during the morning march from Pershing Square, the LAPD blocked off traffic so protestors could march to City Hall safely. The entire day, I only saw about 6 officers (at most) at one time supervising the occupation. At another point, there were only 2, and there were times when I didn’t see any. Being that we were across the street from the LAPD building, they likely ended up just monitoring us from there, but they were actually very polite, and seemed to be quite accommodating. They came back at the end of the night to make sure the occupiers cleared onto the sidewalk after 10:30pm, as the sprinklers came on in the evening. The occupiers had to move back to the lawn by 6am–a small price to pay to keep the peace.
Unfortunately, at the same time Occupy LA was happening, Occupy Wall Street wasn’t going as smoothly. As protestors in New York marched around the city, police who were heading the crowd seemingly led them down the Brooklyn Bridge only to block off both ends and arrest over 700 people for disrupting traffic.
Here’s a video showing the occurrence.
Even the New York Times decided to twist the truth 20 minutes after their initial story on the incident.
By the time I got home yesterday, I logged online to find this, and was NOT pleased.
So JPMorgan randomly decides to give the NYPD $4.6 million, and the NYPD randomly decide to entrap 700 protesters (who are speaking against banks just like Chase) and this is all just supposed to be coincidence? THIS is exactly what the Occupy movement is fighting against, and now everything seems all too clear. The banks own everything, including the police in many cases, and the silence of notable figures who are usually up in arms about this sort of thing is terribly odd. I feel that this whole thing is really starting to expose everyone’s true colors. It’s only a matter of time before everything becomes transparent.
In all of this madness, one thing made me very very happy. And it was this:
(Quoted from various sites).
October 1, 2011 – TAMPA, FL – The Occupy Wall Street movement may have just received an unexpected surprise – United States Army and Marine troops are reportedly on their way to various protest locations to support the movement and to protect the protesters.
Army serviceman Ward Reilly posted the following on Facebook:
“I’m heading up there tonight in my dress blues. So far, 15 of my fellow marine buddies are meeting me there, also in Uniform.
I want to send the following message to Wall St and Congress:
I didn’t fight for Wall St. I fought for America. Now it’s Congress’ turn.
My true hope, though, is that we Veterans can act as first line of defense between the police and the protester. If they want to get to some protesters so they can mace them, they will have to get through the Fucking Marine Corps first. Let’s see a cop mace a bunch of decorated war vets.
I apologize now for typos and errors. Typing this on iPhone whilst heading to NYC. We can organize once we’re there. That’s what we do best.If you see someone in uniform, gather together.
A formation will be held tonight at 10PM.
We all took an oath to uphold, protect and defend the constitution of this country. That’s what we will be doing.
Hope to see you there!!”
When I read this, a celebration erupted in my brain. It’s all really happening now. This is the revolution.
So what is my advice to you? You are a part of the 99%. If you aren’t happy with the way things are going, join the Occupy movement. If any of what you know now has angered you, a large voice now exists for you to speak your mind. Utilize it. There is likely an Occupy movement being organized very near to where you live. Attend the protests. Camp out if you can. If you can’t physically stand with the rest of us (as many of us still cannot afford not to work), support us by delivering food and/or water to your local occupiers. Or at least, share this truth with others. Spread the word. Link to any of the Occupy sites or my blog or whatever it takes. This movement isn’t based on a specific political stance or group of people. As I said before, the supporters are massively diverse. From anarchists and socialists to Democrats, older people, veterans, families, students, homeowners, Tea Party patriots and everything in between, we are all being screwed by the corrupt workings within both the left and right parties. This is our time to stand up and change things for the better.
Don’t trust the media. They are skewing things.
If you attend the movement in person, don’t trust anyone who is encouraging illegal actions at these protests. There are undercover cops and trouble-makers in general who are attempting to sabotage the peaceful solidarity in which these protests are founded on to throw us off course and make us vulnerable to arrest.
Oh man. I’d been anticipating this event for the past few months, and let me tell you: It did not disappoint.
The day started out like any other Saturday. Running errands. Snagging food. Lounging on the couch. Watching TV. Despite the vast lineup, I was mainly interested in seeing She Wants Revenge, Bush, and Motley Crue. Because I’ve seen She Wants Revenge over 10 times, I decided to head out later, rather than have to brave the heat and the crowds for too long. Though my lovely Manthing and 2 of our roommates tagged along, quite a few friends ended up flaking on me, so I had 5 extra tickets by the time I arrived at the event. I decided to make some random people very happy. I gave the extra tickets to a nice looking couple, one guy who was alone, and another who had brought a friend. After receiving a few hugs, we got through the gate at the west end, and made our way into the massive crowd that had collected just prior to Bush’s arrival.
Bush’s performance was phenomenal. They went on just as the sun began to set, making it a bit difficult to view their set for the first few songs, but that was quickly remedied once it grew a bit darker. It was my first time seeing them live, and they played all their singles, including Chemicals Between Us, which I love for it’s sultry mood alone. Between songs, some dude a few feet behind us would yell, “LETTING THE CABLES SLEEP!!!”, and I would yell back in agreement, being that it’s one of my favorite Bush songs. They didn’t end up playing it, but I understood why. Gavin’s plan seemed to be to keep the crowd as energetic as possible. Every few songs he would just walk out into the audience, stand on railings, and either solo on his guitar or sing his heart out. Winning the crowd over is to Gavin what painting is to Leonardo Di Vinci, and playing to the ladies is his Mona Lisa . He even waited ’til later in the set to let his hair down, which, being a hot-blooded woman myself, I appreciated thoroughly. Without sounding like a complete fangirl, there’s no denying the man is beautiful. And that voice is just the icing on the cake. I was even more delighted to know that he sounds just as good live as he does on the Bush tracks I’ve grown up with. The only thing hotter would’ve been for him to show off that coin trick he did all throughout Constantine.
Borrowed from http://saintpancake.deviantart.com/art/Balthazar-coin-156123055
Mmmm… yes. Flip that coin, Gavin. Flip it good. Wait… why does this turn me on?
After Bush’s set, I knew the hardcore Crue fans would immediately make their way to the front of the stage while everyone else filed out to grab a beer or watch Public Enemy at the other end of the festival. Joker and I walked away from the stage to grab some free sodas and a few bags of chips (that one vendor was handing out), and immediately proceeded back to the west stage. Our roommates wandered off for some drinks, but while waiting for Motley Crue’s performance, we were chatted up by a very lively and talkative British fellow, who claimed to be from South Africa. He made some subtly flirtatious remarks my way, in the form of flattery, and it was instantly apparent that his goal for the night was to take home some ladies. While he was charming (I’m a sucker for certain accents), his combination of denim jacket and bare chest made him look like a cartoon, and it was hard to take him seriously. Joker seemed humored by the whole matter, which I found appropriate. Nonetheless, he was a nice and rather harmless fellow, who made it a point to chat up and furtively place a hand on almost every girl around us for the rest of the night.
A few minutes later, 2 attractive goth girls and 2 taller gentlemen (that looked like they were straight out of a late 80s hair band) pushed past us and made their way directly to our right to settle in a spot by the railing that separated the gathering crowd in 2. They were there only moments before the yelling started. A shorter man standing with his fiance was having words with the skinnier of the 2 gentlemen in front of him, who appeared to have ripped off Axl Rose’s signature look. While the shorter man shouted, “Well, you walked up and decided to stand right in front of my fiance, motherf*cker!” the taller guy (let’s just call him Axl), who was apparently very intoxicated, began to lunge at him. His friends proceeded to stop him and talk some sense into him, but he wasn’t hearing any of it. “I WILL BREAK YOU”, the shorter man yelled, and blows were nearly exchanged until Axl’s extra gothy girlfriend, who was between the 2 shouting men, grabbed her boyfriend and put her hand over his mouth to silence him, while repeating, “You need to shut the f*ck up. NOW. Right now. Shut up. Shut your mouth.” She was surprisingly strong enough to subdue Axl, which made it all the more amusing to watch. This went on for about 10 minutes, until everyone calmed down and chilled out.
After what seemed to be the longest wait ever, Motley Crue’s first song started with a loud BANG! as pyrotechnics went off and caught everyone off guard. They ran out onto the stage almost immediately, causing the large crowd to grow even larger and go bananas. As they opened with Wild Side, the energy level shifted dramatically, and the mood became electric throughout the whole venue. I was pleased to see the use of go-go dancer girls working the stage as well (which I’m also partial to when it comes to Rob Zombie’s shows, both for the aesthetic and because I like to go-go, myself). The entire set was fantastic, and it seemed the electricity never dwindled, but only became even more potent with songs like Shout At The Devil (which had everyone pumping their fists) and Dr. Feelgood (with some killer visuals on the screen). Home Sweet Home was preceded with some words from Tommy Lee on how appropriate the venue was, since the Sunset Strip was where it all started for Motley Crue. I felt it pretty much wrapped up what everyone was feeling, and why this particular performance was so special. When he sat down at the piano and those first few notes were played, I got chills. I grew up with bands like Motley Crue. I remember rocking out to Home Sweet Home and Girls Girls Girls when I was 4 years old. (Thanks mom and dad!) The whole experience made me feel very nostalgic, but hearing Home Sweet Home live really brought it home for me.
I’d heard about Tommy Lee’s 360 roller coaster drum solo performance. I even YouTube’d it before the concert. But nothing compared to seeing it in person. It was FREAKIN’ AMAZING. If you are unaware of what I’m talking about, allow me to explain: Tommy Lee gets strapped into a chair to which his entire drum set is attached to, which is all on a track. But not just any track. A large circular track. A giant O, if you will. And while he’s playing, he and his drum set swing back and forth along this track, turning him sideways at some points, and then, inevitably, he is rotated to the top of the track until he and his drum set are completely upside down. This all takes place while he plays Red Hot Chili Pepper’s version of Roller Coaster Of Love FLAWLESSLY while footage of a giant hand appears to turn him about. Mr. Lee then begins to rotate around and around the track as he plays every beat in an epically awesome electronica track (that I enjoyed terribly). And to top it all off, he later invited deadmau5 to join him on his giant circular track of awesomeness, and still managed to play without missing a beat.
The Big O of DOOOOOM
The show wrapped up with songs like Girls Girls Girls, Smokin’ In The Boys Room, and finally Kickstart My Heart, complete with an elaborate and epic grand finale of pyrotechnics, smoke, flashing lights, and lots of jamming out. The Crue’s performance came to a close with a feat that would make the gods of metal proud–on the last note, an explosion of perhaps hundreds of gallons of fake blood descended onto the crowd to drench us all in red glory.
Bloodbath anyone?
The show could not have ended in a better way. And though we all walked away wet and sticky with… whatever the blood was made of (corn syrup?) to carefully board our vehicles in such a way to avoid menstrual-stained interior, it was all SO worth it. The entire experience was seriously memorable, and likely something I won’t ever be able to forget. I feel privileged to be able to commit this event to the list of amazing things I’ve experienced. HELL. YES.
From the hazed cove behind my eyes,
Idle and futile,
Emerging false hope silhouettes with come-hither intentions
Flirt with my subconscious,
Teasing as they dance along the verge of cognizance
But never close enough for an epiphany release.
One memory takes pity.
Faint, but present.
Vague, but kind.
My hand outstretched with cautious tone
Like propositioning a butterfly.
With aesthetic serenity,
A movement forward to admit me inside.
A flutter of wings,
A flicker, a flash—a Bioscop projection.
A pattern of synchronized images,
Just fast enough for my mind to compute.
Immobile enrapture.
A silent film I cannot stop.
Kissed by sepia lips, against all will.
A grainy texture to my tongue,
The organic taste of vintage,
Filling senses inside that shouldn’t be connected to my mouth.
Strange and unfamiliar,
But somehow sewn into the fabric of my descent,
The way a leaf would feel upon meeting a root;
So far, yet so connected.
The retreat of lips widens perspective
To reveal my setting—a modern city boulevard,
Busy and vehement and so suddenly loud,
Rendering me dazed and disoriented.
Stumbled steps, and clutching ears to drown out
Cars and dogs, sirens, alarms, horns—
Pulsing, throbbing, deafening generic tunes,
Repetitive and inconsequential—
Empty laughter, dripping with insincerity,
Pretentious and unkind—
The unrelenting frequency of screams,
Excited or angry, but ever-booming in my head—
And the voices, the endless voices,
Whispers growing louder,
Attacking ears like blood-sucking parasites
‘Til my mind is submerged and sinking,
And I’m drowning in a sea of malevolent disarray.
Then…
Eyes meet my own,
So familiar and chivalrous,
Selectively benevolent,
And somehow fixed on me.
The gaze locks and focus pulls me upward,
Unfolding me from fetal hunch to stand tall.
Slow recognition of the face before me
Evokes an approaching calm from the chaos,
A gradual hush, until pure and merciful…
Silence.
I stare intently in muted wonder
At his flowing sepia aura
Against a backdrop of harsh, over-contrasted color
And realize he stands before me a projected silent film,
Yet somehow tangible,
Appareled in 19th century tailcoat, vest, and pocket watch.
Antique hands outstretch to take my own.
The initial touch,
The ticking static of fingertips against skin
Creeps down my hand and up my arm,
Encompassing every inch of me in warm celluloid tones,
‘Til the hint of something aural grows within,
Replacing silence with the serenade of a theatre organ,
As he smiles with knowing eyes,
And envelopes me with sheltering arms.
We are of our own world,
As we flicker, hand in hand, and walk on…
Artists Anonymous is a monthly zine dedicated to spreading the word about local artists. You can get your copy at various local Los Angeles art shows/events, and learn where we will be next on Facebook.
Also, follow AA on Twitter: @AAddicted2Art
If you’re an artist who’d like to be featured in future issues, shoot us an email: ArtistsAnonymous4u@gmail.com
This was fun. I’m borrowing it from the blogging world and sharing it with you guys…
Album Cover Design Challenge
1. Go to WIKIPEDIA.ORG and hit “random article”. The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2. Go to QUOTATIONSPAGE.COM and hit “random quotations”. The last 2 to 5 words of the very last quote on the page is the title of your album.
3. Go to WWW.FLICKR.COM/EXPLORE/ and click on “interesting photos from the last 7 days”. The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use Photoshop, Picasa, or a similar editor to put it all together. Be creative!
5. Post your creation wherever you like, and share the fun.
This was my final result. The image was so intensely hipster, I had to do it justice. ;p
A formation will be held tonight at 10PM.
