Ewwwwwwww
 
I’ve been trying to find some sign that this might be a joke, but I think we have to face this together.

Alphanail is a brand of nail polish just for men, and is billed as “The pick-up artists’ secret weapon.”  I’m not quite sure what makes it any different than regular nail polish, except that we are regularly assured that is, in fact, super-butch.

Its a no brainer. We’ve got better colors. We’ve got both Matte and Metallic finishes, as masculine as it gets. We’ve got a better application system. We have a brand supported by fighters and celebrities. We have a formula that strengthens your nails. We have a better removal system. You need any other reason to choose Alphanail over some dainty little glass pot you find in the makeup section of your grocery store? Come on now, lets be serious. Alphanail IS the choice for men.

Because nothing screams “secure in your masculinity” like desperately asserting it over and over again!

I literally cannot write anything snarky about this, because it is so laughable it completely eliminates the need for satire. For example, their concept of evolution’s role in sex is… somewhat suspect.

There is a reason that male peacocks have such stunningly vivid and colorful feathers. It is because over thousands of years of sexual selection, the peacock that had slightly handsomer feathers than the rest, humped a lot more peahens, resulting in more chicks. This genetic advantage toward bright feathers when multiplied over hundreds of generations has created one of nature’s most impressive examples of beauty.

What’s that you say, bro? Tell me more about the humping science!

Peacocking then, is the term derived by pick up artists (PUA’s), that pays homage to the natural law exploited by the peacock. The more noticeable the male within a positive context, the more he humps. In humans, this phenomenon is supported by one major psychological factor. There is immense social pressure to fit in and be one of the herd which causes people to dress alike within their social circle, act alike, even drink alike. Only the Alpha males, those with the confidence to make their own rules generally have the courage to stand out. It is the Alpha males that have the bright feathers in our world, it is the Alpha males that are the masters of Peacocking.

I would be interested in seeing their sales figures. While this is a fairly egregious example, I’ve heard tell that nothing sells quite as well as “individuality.”  Combine that with the masculine anxiety market and I’ll bet this could be one of those inexplicably successful products. Even if it has no “real” demand, the novelty of it is undeniable. Look how many people got drunk and bought Snuggies?

And while the Snuggie is a sadness purchase, the down we use to nest in our winter depression, so to speak, Alphanail is the drunken purchase of a maverick.

It is about having the confidence that says ‘I am my own man, and will decide the rules for how I live my life according to how I see fit.

Yes, that is exactly what people will think when they learn you have purchased this product.

“Yes I’ll have a pint of Guinness and a dinner portion of the cute little rooster man over there with the shag haircut.”
 
The Rolling Stones, the longest running oldies show on the planet, performed last night in London and, according to reports, it was a moderately hard-rocking 2 1/2 hour set. The concert celebrated the band’s 50th anniversary of making music together and not dying.

From the videos I’ve seen, the show seemed rather lackluster and tired. A visibly bored Bill Wyman, re-united with his old band for “Honky Tonky Women,” plucked his bass guitar with all the fervor of a man trying to dislodge dried snot from the front of his pants. While Wyman was never what you’d call a great showman he really gives new meaning to the term “going thru the motions.” In contrast, Mick Taylor joined the group for “Midnight Rambler” and the word is he tore the joint up with a blazing guitar solo that was met with delirium from the delighted middle-aged and older audience. The once beautiful Taylor has blown-up to Falstaffian proportions - which may explain why Jagger kept at a considerable distance from his former bandmate: a fear perhaps of being crushed to death or, god forbid, eaten. But that sense of distance and disengagement seems to define the band these days. The whole group seem to be acting the role of being The Rolling Stones, reminding us all that sometimes you really can’t go home again.

The Stones are playing to audiences trying to relive the epiphanies of their youth, looking backward while dancing to music that once enthralled us with its threatening newness. What was once dangerous is now a collective memory swoon for a generation of adults who cling to their adolescence like Priests clutching rosary beads or a drunk holding tight to a photo of a lost lover. There is an element of religiosity in this adoration of The Stones and all of the touchstones their music represents. But instead of being the sexy dark mass of the past, it’s become a church picnic. Our totems and costumes have changed from dope, longhair, beads and leather-fringed jackets to a pair of bermuda shorts, flip-flops, Ray-Bans and over-priced stadium beer. We’re not fucking in the mud anymore. We’re head-bobbing on astro-turf.

The most ferocious and feral rock band in the world has turned kind of silly, sad, and irrelevant, yet they continue to tour and we continue to argue about them and many of us pay to see them. Maybe it’s The Stones longevity, not their music, that keeps us interested. We all want to live forever and so far that’s exactly what the Rolling Stones are doing. For many of us, they represent the thing we thought we’d never see: old age. Theirs and our own.
 

 
Rita Moreno will admit to some similarities with that great, comic character Googie Gomez, who she played in the film version of Terrence McNally‘s play The Ritz. They are both survivors, they are not losers, and they will both always come out on top.

Moreno certainly came out on top - she won a Tony Award, for her original stage performance as Googie, in 1975, and was the star turn of Richard Lester’s film version of McNally’s play, the following year.

The Ritz tells the story of Gaetano Proclo (Jack Weston), hiding out from the Mafia at a gay bath house. The film crackled with McNally’s superb dialog, and the brilliant performances from Moreno and Weston, with the support of Treat Williams, F. Murray Abraham and Jerry Stiller.

In this interview, from December 1976, Miss Moreno and director, Mr. Lester discuss their roles in the making of this cult film, which certainly deserves to be rediscovered a great comedy classic.
 

 
With thanks to NellyM!
 

 
Famed cult actor extraordinaire Udo Kier is a demigod for those of us with a palate for both art house and exploitation. The man has been bringing his own brand of presence and charisma to the silver screen, of which the likes haven’t been seen since Conrad Veidt. Kier’s filmography alone is a paean to the weird and wonderful world of fringe film making, ranging from Dario Argento’s horror masterwork, Suspiria to Paul Morrissey’s double threat of Blood for Dracula and Flesh for Frankenstein to Lars Von Trier’s The Idiots and Melancholia. Kier was even in The German Chainsaw Massacre, which by title and cast alone is something I desperately need to see. He’s also flirted with the mainstream, appearing in everything from Ace Ventura: Pet Detective to Blade and more recently, an episode of the TV show, Chuck.

But I am not here to regale you with tales of Kier’s idiosyncraticly impressive acting resume. Not at all, because in addition to being a phenomenal actor, Kier also made a music video where he turns into a bird of prey! In 1985, Kier wrote and recorded a song entitled, “Der Adler” and made one incredible video for it. It truly has to be seen to be believed, featuring Kier as a haunted businessman with a loving family that he seems detached from. He becomes obsessed with power until he ultimately transforms into a hawk. There’s lot of great horror-type imagery, including one shot of Kier writhing on the bathroom floor in elegant attire, no doubt an homage to his turn in Blood for Dracula.

Unfortunately, “Der Adler” is the only song that Kier has recorded to date. It would be interesting to see what he would do nowadays music-wise, especially since he’s still very much active creatively. The whole stark-Euro synth feel of the song works perfectly with the lyrics, as well as the visuals. Kier did some promotional work for the single in Europe, in particular appearing on German television. To my knowledge, the only notable appearance of the song in the US was Kier performing a section of it during the infamous lamp dance in Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho.

So if you have lots of love in your stir-crazy heart for Udo Kier like I do, plus have a weakness for sinister Euro-synthpop, then you must check out “Der Adler”. Enjoy!

 
Sunday seems like a good day to post a shimmering slice of psychedelia. So, here’s Tame Impala’s Beatleesque “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” from one of the best albums of 2012, and a favorite of mine, Lonerisms.

This is a tough song to pull off live. On record, it is dreamy, ethereal, delicate and in my experience that is hard to replicate on stage. But Tame Impala manage to do a very effective version on the Jools Holland Show this past Friday night.

This song is infused with John Lennon’s vibe. Same is true for the second, “Elephant,” (with a smattering of ELO and Slade thrown in).
 

Larry Hagman in “Stardust.”
 
In this excerpt from British TV show The Real…, Larry Hagman spares no details in describing the time he drove Keith Moon to rehab after the drummer over-indulged in Black Beauties (amphetamine). Moon and Hagman were friends, having originally met on the set of Stardust, a 1973 movie about the Brit rock business starring David Essex.
 

 
Thanks to Charles Lieurance.

 
21 years ago today, Klaus Kinski died of a heart attack at the age of 65.

In one of his rare appearances on German TV, Klaus Kinski dances with Austrian singer and dancer Margot Werner. Kinski manhandles Werner with the intensity of a tiger about to eat his prey. He’s practically licking his paws.

This gives me an idea for a demented version of Dancing With The Stars involving serial killers and assorted psychotics.

The song is “Zuhälter-Ballade” from the Threepenny Opera.
 

 
Robert Mitchum started out making Westerns at $100 a week, and all the horse manure he could take home. It was, he says, like “playing Cowboys and Indians out in the fresh air,” and was better than working. The way Mitchum tells it, he got hired to play himself, and only worked when his family got bored of him hanging around the house. 

Mitchum may have been self-effacing, but he was always very sure of himself. He was grounded, centered, and that’s what made hims attractive - you knew you could rely on him. In this interview for French TV, Mitchum suggests acting is 10% talent and 90% craft; talks his experience of working on Ryan’s Daughter; and explains why his favorite actor was Charles Laughton.

Footnote: The above picture is from one of Mitchum’s best films, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, based on the brilliant novel by George V. Higgins. If you haven’t seen it (or read it), do yourself a favor, get it now.
 

 
This is not a “best of” for 2012. It’s just a compilation of songs released this year that inspired me to hit the “repeat” button on my car stereo more than a few times. There are tunes here that are from albums that I loved and a few from albums I never heard. In putting this playlist together, I resisted the rock snob in me and went for what gave me simple pleasure as I cruised the streets of Austin in my jet-black Fiat with the volume knob turned up to 11. There are songs in this mix that will probably lose me the respect of some of my musician friends and critics. Ask me if I care.

She Brings The Sunlight- an awe-inspiring slab of psychedelia from Richard Hawley’s latest and best album, the unexpectedly lysergic Standing At The Sky’s Edge.
Be Above It - trippiness from Australia’s Tame Impala, a band I thought had aspirations they couldn’t meet. I was wrong. Their sophomore album, Lonerism, is undeniably brilliant - a headphone record best listened to with eyes closed and mind wide open.
Stay Away From Downtown - from out of the past, Redd Kross emerge from the L.A. ‘burbs with one of the best pop anthems of this or any year. Layer upon layer of sonic goodness. Hey guys, please don’t wait another 15 years to release an album. Rock ‘n’ roll needs your energy.
Go Right Ahead - punchy garage rocker from The Hives sounds like a classic to me…or at least a very good ELO track.
Hold On - Alabama Shakes deliver something so close to the r&b bone that when I first heard it I thought it was a decades-old soul rarity.
I’m Shakin - hard to believe that Little Willie John’s much-covered classic could be given new life, but Jack White gives “Shakin” some fresh sizzle (with a squeal that would do Ned Beatty proud).
Down To The Bottom - Baby Woodrose makes music that sounds like a darker version of Love’s “Forever Changes” or “Surrealistic Pillow” as performed by demonic Hobbits.
Stay Useless - Cloud Nothings prove that there is life after punk: more punk!
Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings - Father John Misty’s crusty hippisms are shroomtastic and spookily hooky.
Just Me - Diamond Rings aka Boy Division.
Call Me Maybe - or crazy. I don’t care. Bubble-gum has always been high on my list of guilty pleasures and Carly Rae Jepsen delivers a really good sugar rush.
How To Be A Heartbreaker - Marina And The Diamonds. See Carly Rae Jepsen.
Survival - Bloated, bombastic and pretentious arena rock that shamelessly revels in its excesses. Muse, I don’t give a shit what anybody says, I think you’re cool.
Ode To Sad Disco - Mark Lanegan writes songs that make me weep with envy. His new record Blues Funeral is my favorite of 2012 and one of the most emotionally resonant albums I’ve heard in ages, heartfelt and gloriously gloomy.
Fitzpleasure - At first, I thought getting into Alt-J would be harder than shoving my 185 lb. body into a pair of Ben Sherman jeans. Turns out these British basement-dwellers create hugely like-able pop tunes that sound like some strange indigenous music from another planet. This is world music. The question is: which world?
Mature Themes - If Frank Zappa and Capt. Beefheart popped onto the scene today, critics would dismiss them as hipster bullshit - kind of like they’re doing with Ariel Pink. Fuck em all and let The Godz sort em out!
Cellophane - Like it’s title, Ladyhawke’s Beatleesque confection is all sparkly and shiny. Plastic fantastic, lover.
The Healing Day - Bill Fay can miraculously play his piano and lay his hands on you at the same time. The doctor is in the house.
Twisted Road - Neil Young’s acid flashbacks are more interesting than most peoples’ entire fucking lives. The history of rock ‘n’ roll in one battered suitcase.
Desert Raven - Jonathan Wilson plays the kind of Southern California hippie music I used to hate. What happened? Is the acid finally kicking in?
This Year - The revolution will not be televised, but nobody told Boots Riley of The Coup. Oakland’s radical funksters re-define the meaning of “political party.”

The video contains a bunch of clips from experimental films, both new and old, as well as some soft-core stag loops and found video footage. I hope you dig it. Not suitable for work.
 

 
Milestones is both an intimate and epic exploration of what happened to the young radicals who were involved in the anti-war and civil rights movements of the Sixties. Directed by master film maker Robert Kramer and John Douglas, this three hour-plus film interviews over 50 members of the “Movement” as they struggle to keep their ideals alive in settings that range from communes to urban lofts and decaying tenements. It is a powerful, absorbing and often sad testimony to the complexities and frustrations of being an idealist and activist in a world grown increasingly cynical. Dreams die hard and when they hit the dust we are all given a taste of the bitterness of their dying.