Music lovers can now be immortalised when they die by having their ashes baked into vinyl records to leave behind for loved ones.
A UK company called And Vinyly is offering people the chance to press their ashes in a vinyl recording of their own voice, their favourite tunes or their last will and testament. Minimalist audiophiles might want to go for the simple option of having no tunes or voiceover, and simply pressing the ashes into the vinyl to result in pops and crackles.
For readers lucky enough to live in Los Angeles, this weekend there promises to be a pretty fabulous terrible event in the form of the Everything Is Festival! sponsored by the very wonderful people at the Cinefamily organization and the Everything is Terrible! video terrorists. Dangerous Minds will be attending so please say “Hi” and offer us free drugs:
Imagine a weekend where all your fantasies come true. A weekend where you can just be…free. Laugh until your sides literally split open, and feel as cool as a skateboarding, shade-tippin’ dog. We’re talking about the festival to end all film festivals—Everything Is Festival! (aka the 10th Annual Gathering Of The Terribles)! For reasons beyond our control (God’s plan), we at Cinefamily are giving the found footage freaks at Everything Is Terrible! free range of the weekend, and letting them do whatever the hell they want (note: we did have to say “no” to the all-night helicopter foam party). This makes it the official L.A. premiere of their latest mash-up feature-length film, 2Everything 2Terrible 2: Tokyo Drift, not to mention some of EIT!’s favorite movies in their uncut glory, plus dance parties, BBQs, a return of the Cinefamily Found Footage Battle Royal, and top-secret über-rare prints from the vaults of Cinefamily and Austin, TX’s famous Alamo Drafthouse! For more info on becoming a contestant in the Found Footage Battle Royale, click here!
There’s so much to love about this. Although the guitarist seems keen to play it straight, the rhythm section is too gloriously inept to do anything other than turn it into a no wave/skronk classic. Better than the original.
Mondo Balordo (Crazy World) is one of the better of the many sleazoid mondo flix that burst onto the scene in the sixties like a particularly virulent strain of cinematic clap. It’s narrated by Boris Karloff and features footage that was considered pretty wild when it was released in 1964.
Boris Karloff unlocks man’s oldest secrets and exposes the hidden intimate shocking scenes of love… around Our Crazy World!
In this clip, 27 inch tall Franz Drago channels Louis Prima as he and his band perform ‘I Ain’t Got Nobody.’
I’ve done my best to dig up more info on Franz, but I’m coming up snake eyes. If anybody out there has the inside skinny on this cat, please enlighten me.
I’ve written here before about how I used to go fanatically out of my way to collect memorabilia related to the movie Candy, in particular items emblazoned with photos of the film’s titular heroine, who was played by the comely Ewa Aulin, a one-time Miss Teen Sweden. Candy, which I didn’t actually see until much later was a “holy grail” movie for me, but when I saw it, my opinion was not favorable. (Nothing could have lived up to my high expectations to begin with, but Candy really sucked. But this isn’t about Candy, you can read what I wrote about that film here).
Another 60s goddess who I have a ridiculous amount of photos, movie posters, picture sleeve records, sheet music and even fine art photographic prints of, is Marianne Faithfull. Of all of my pantheon of 60s goddesses (Ursula Andress, Paula Prentiss, Francoise Hardy, Racquel Welch, Jane Birkin, Sandie Shaw, Joni Mitchell, P.P. Arnold, Claudine Longet) I’d have to say that Faithfull is, by quite a wide margin, my #1 favorite. Quite simply, there was no female anywhere on the planet as cool and as sexy as she was during the 60s. She was born with one of the most classically beautiful faces of all time and she just had that look which embodied the era as no other woman’s look or style could. A goddess, she was and still is.
A film titled Girl on a Motorcycle, alternatively known as Naked Under Leather, was made in 1968 to capitalize on Faithfull’s libertine reputation, acquired as the result of her having only a fur rug wrapped around her otherwise naked body during a drug bust at Keith Richard’s home the year before. In the film, Faithfull famously wears a black-leather catsuit with fur lining. Meow.
There’s not a whole lot of dialogue and even less plot in Girl on a Motorcycle. In a nutshell, Faithfull plays a young woman bored in her marriage who decides to escape, riding through the European on a motorcycle to meet her lover (Alain Delon). The audience hears her thoughts and existential musings. There are some spicy sex scenes with Delon that earned the tame-by-today’s-standards film, an X rating. It’s a little hard to follow and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but who cares? That’s not why you’re watching it anyway.
What we basically have in Girl on a Motorcycle is one of the quintessential Swinging 60s time capsule relics of psychedelic sexploitation. Is it a “good movie”? No. Is it a feast for the eyes. YES, indeed it is, and not just because of the gorgeous Ms. Faithfull, either. The European scenery is also brilliantly captured by director Jack Cardiff, a well-respected cinematographer who also shot classic films like The African Queen, The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus (Not to mention Rambo: First Blood II). There’s also the psychedelic jazz score from Les Reed to recommend the film.
In summation: Girl on a Motorcycle, it’s 90 minutes of great shot after shot of one of the hottest women ever born riding a motorcycle in a leather catsuit or else having that same catsuit removed by a Frenchman’s teeth. With great music and some solarized psychedelic stuff thrown in for good measure (and to foil censors). The end.
This is the trailer for Girl on a Motorcycle. Picture this going on for about 90 minutes and… you’ll get the idea:
Here’s a page with lots of photos and scans of the many, many different movie posters that were made for this film. I have owned many of these myself. Note, in particular, the Czech and Japanese ones mid-way down the page. This is the kind of thing that I set up Ebay alerts for. (Cinebeats)
I just randomly stumbled upon and decided to share this late 60’s Japanese chocolate commercial featuring The Walker Brothers. So funny to see Scott Walker, eternally brooding quasi-operatic divo, happily hawking the chocolate here.
This of course made me want to hear The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore because it’s such a hauntingly beautiful song.
Hear/see that and more Walker Brothers after the jump…
This TV commercial for the Verizon Droid X has an unsettling similarity to the infamous torture photo that came out of Abu Ghraib. Is this an unfortunate coincidence or is Verizon actually making some kind of sick joke? Whatever the case, I’m shocked that anyone would sign off on this ad. Was the ad agency who created it blind, clueless or deliberately mocking a dark moment in this country’s history? What do you think?
Nxtiak made a video of the commercial recording it directly from a television screen.
Two viral videos today in the Summer of Hate caused made me to think some more about the IQ stratification in this country. In truth, the only thing they have in common is that I watched one right after the other.
First we have the grotesque, transparently manipulative commercial for Glenn Beckstock this weekend in D.C. I won’t even go into the reasons why watching this made me throw up a little in my mouth because the reasons are just so glaringly obvious to anyone with a decent education or even a rudimentary grasp of American history. Dare to press play and watch this for as long as you can stand it. This commercial, as dumb and as boring as it seems, functions as nothing short of a sophisticated mindrape of our most stupid and easily manipulated citizenry. I’m not overstating the case here. I’ll bet there are people who fucking cried when they watched this cynical, brain-damaged glorification of crazypants, megalomaniacal Beck (and not for the same reason I wanted to cry, either).
And then there is the bottom clip, of LA-based performer Prince Poppycock’s flamboyant appearance on America’s Got Talent. Poppycock’s beautifully costumed and choreographed run at Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” where he, as Piers Morgan puts it “outcamps Freddie Mercury” is a delight and a lot of fun to watch, but what’s fascinating here is to think about the overlap in the audiences of the Glenn Beck show and of America’s Got Talent.
WHAT did the teabagger types, who obviously make up at least some portion of that show’s audience, make of Poppycock moving into the semi-finals? Imagine all the homophobic lemon faces that were pulled in “Good Christian Homes” all across Amerikkka on Monday night!
It’s amazing to me that the people who are able to appreciate and embrace an unusual performer like Prince Poppycock in a national talent show, can coexist with the type of “patriotic” idiots we’re going to see showing up for the Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin rally this weekend.
As you watch the news this weekend, ask yourself for how much longer will this be the case?
From Shan Nicholson, director of Downtown Calling, comes this new documentary on New York City gangs called Rubble Kings.
From 1968 to 1975, gangs ruled New York City. Beyond the idealistic hopes of the civil rightsnmovement lay a unfocused rage. Neither law enforcement nor social agency could end the escalating bloodshed. Peace came only through the most unlikely and courageous of events that would change the world for generations to come by giving birth to hip-hop culture.