Spring is finally here, an unquestionable sign that summer is just around the corner, a fact has a few implications for me: lots of swimming, lots of traveling, lots of All American Hamburger, lots of Ralph’s Italian Ices and tons of soul music of all varieties.
From my collection of Northern Soul, Soul and R&B 45s I’ve compiled a mix of what I feel are some essential sunny weather tunes that apply in many warm weather situations: dance parties, beach ragers, BBQs, and road trips just to name a few. There is a criterion for a feel-good summer soul song that I used to find the best examples for said mix. Blaring horns almost always a must, desperate, almost screamed, soulful vocals with instantly memorizable melodies, ripping upbeat drums, syrupy sweet guitar hooks (see Steve Cropper for a lesson), a little bit of whistling in some instances, organs in most, and finally, a good sturdy and bouncy bass line. There are a few exceptions to the formula here, which I’ve added for tension and to create some valleys and peaks.
These songs are intended get your foot moving, your head shaking, and to compliment the crazy feeling of a hot summer in the streets of America. Winter is dead, let’s celebrate.
Israel is many things, but most of all a strange place. Rabbis driving tractors, Arab and German foods comingling, men-only gyms. Plenty of Anglo-Saxons (Americans, Canadians, etc. are called that) sticking out like sore thumbs. There’s nothing softer than an Anglo-Saxon college grad, and nothing harder than the Gaza Strip, but the two meet often. And there are weirder things out there than the interns: Hoards of street cats, mile-long tilted highways, dripping soapy water everywhere. It’s hard to describe what it’s like to live there, but these photos do a great job. Elizabeth is an excellent photographer, but (or maybe and) Israel really looks like this. Plenty of beaches and friendly people, but just as many drizzly weekdays and everything else. Like any homestead, sometimes it’s just a place to be.
One night awhile back, we were leaving the movies and saw a crowd at Union Square watching something. We followed, it was a fight. Lots of people fighting. The one fight we saw from the start was between a couple of young kids, no older than 16. A lean one who knew what he was doing, the other a chubby Puerto Rican kid. He held his own for more than a few minutes, but tried to relay a spin move into a punch, and didn’t look good doing it. Most people just kept cheering, although I caught a bigger dreadlocked guy in skinny black jeans laughing. The crowd was big, mostly young, but with a few security guards and women, for measure. It was like your regular bus stop crowd1 but bigger.
Who is this? I don't have any idea. I'm assuming it's some sort of referee, though the one time we were there there was no real referee. It could have been the guy I laughed with, but according to their MySpace, last accessed July 23, 2009 — that was a man named Legend.
I wouldn't say this is an art form, or that it's even that cool, but what do I know? A man named Dito Montiel sang for Major Conflict, one of the all-time greats, and as a graduated mind made a successful film about fighting. We might indeed be out of the loop. Either that, or it's one of those weird NYC things (bowler hats, skateboarding, Patti Smith, and what have you) that I just don't have my finger on.
There’s nothing better than the beach, and, unrelated or otherwise, there are very few in Canada. I went to my first beach when I was 21 and knew I was an American. Lauren was the Glen E. Friedman of 2002-2005, documenting an era that, for many of us, was the best it got. She’s not too different from Glen these days either, in that she lives by the water (I’m guessing he does too).
Ben Rayner lives in London with his wife and cat. He likes to play his guitar loud and fast, and he loves his stout. Ben’s latest exhibit is happening in Tokyo. Trumbull Island will be cashing in our frequent flyer miles to send one lucky reader along to work the door. That lucky reader? Yep, Josh Feola.
The body has many functions and interpretations. Various communities have been formed whose members are stimulated and committed to displaying their bodies. Upon entrance into these tightly knit circles, there are competitions that determine the perfect members. Line up, walk, display, judge.
The world of bodybuilding consists of individuals from diverse backgrounds, all interested in meeting the demands of an idolized physique. Using weightlifting, diet, tanning and oils, the bodies within this industry may seem extraordinary and exaggerated to the outside world.
Through photography, I am interested in capturing the tradition of bodybuilding and the competitive, robust nature of the shows. Through artistic speculation of this extreme practice, I hope to bring question to all the radical and conservative practices we partake in to reach an ideal.
We were flabbergasted to learn the whereabouts of a Trumbull heirloom when photos from Gilbert Arenas’s gun collection hit the Web this week. You see, young Gilbert and his teammate Javaris Crittenton drew on each other in the locker room over a gambling debt/as a prank on Christmas Eve, 2009. Now Gilbert’s self-proclaimed better than 500-piece collection is a matter of public record.
One of our wayward nephews lost this magnificent Golden Eagle in a game of Low Chicago in an ass-scratch hamlet of Missouri back in the late ’80s. If memory serves, he also lost a white Z28 and his grandfather’s Templar sword in the same game. He used to keep the sword in his trunk and claimed to have used it twice, once on a “crazy horse” and the other time he wouldn’t tell us about. It’s been years since we crossed paths with Skip, but it gives us some comfort to know that at the very least, his former possessions are still circulating among high(ish) society.
Welcome back to part two of our interview with friends Alex and Nick of Cold World. Visit our store to order a limited CW T-shirt!
Can you talk about the demos you recorded a few years ago a little bit? Where does that tie into Pegasus?
Nick: I’m assuming you’re referring to the Cold World demos with me singing. That has nothing to do with Pegasus besides me realizing I can hold it down on vocals. I saw some people posting CW demos a while ago, so I downloaded them just to see what they have, and most of the tracks were just rough mixes with Dan’s vocals. We have whole separate sessions where the songs sound a little different and I sing the whole thing. People don’t really have them, as far as I know. I’d like to do something with them at some point, but who knows.
What are the five best CW shirt designs?
Nick: I really like the ones we recently did. The Showbiz & AG rip, and the Diamond D rip are very ill. We just did a hoodie with the Infamous logo on the front and it says Young Veteranz on the back. The Beatnuts shirt was cool. I just like all the 90′s rap ones!
Alex: Georgetown Hoyas longsleeve with Erik B. and Rakim on the back. Black Ice Grillz tee. Tapes shirt. Russian tattoo flash shirt. Soundgarden ripoff Scace designed.
The band has done some fancy things in the studio as far as hardcore acts go. Can you tell us what you’ve taken away from your studio time?
Alex: When the engineer or producer tell you something, challenge it. They don’t like to do stuff because a lot of them are very stuck in their ways. But if you want to get the sound that YOU want, not the sound that they want, you need to put your interest before their comfort. There really is no limit as to what can happen in the studio. Be patient. It takes time. Don’t do too much or you’ll end up sounding corny instead of cool.
Cold World are one of the coolest bands out there, but the band is the tip of the iceberg to their coolness. A lot of it comes across on records and shirts, but there’s more. It’s not so much that they’re a work in progress, but they’re always progressing. I’m not sure the kids are truly aware of the extent of their coolness. AlBite has a big name in Wilkes-Barre and is like the mayor over there. Nick has been into bad shit since he was 11. Anyways, we hope this gets at some of it. Enjoy.
What’s new with you Alex? how’s Gypsy going?
There’s a lot of new stuff in my life, but, its mostly just guns, perks, and attachments in Call of Duty. Gypsy’s doing pretty well. We finished writing the LP. Well, I have to write lyrics still, but other than that it’s finished. We’re gonna go into the studio in May/June and record it. We already have an EP written for after it, songs that just don’t quite fit the LP. The LP is straight up Jawbreaker / Dinosaur Jr. / Quicksand and the EP has more of a Jawbox/ Superchunk / Fugazi type vibe to it. We also added a third guitarist. Cause why not?
Who’s the third guitarist in Gypsy? Does he use any cool pedals?
Alex: Colin Gorman. He’s young, just turned 20 today on March 11 and knows how to play more SRV songs than anyone I know. His pedal game is not so strong. He uses a small clone and an overdrive right now, that’s it. But he did just buy a Purple 1971 Marshall Super Bass JMP that with his G&L Legacy sounds perfect. Colin spends about three hours a day watching youtube videos of Stevie Ray Vaughn, John Frusciante, Jimi Hendrix, and Stone Gossard.
Nick, what’s new with you? How’s Pegasus going?
Honestly I’ve just been working and coolin out. I haven’t really had the inspiration to fuck with music lately. It’ll come back to me though. Pegasus is weird cause it wasn’t supposed to be how it came out. They had the songs recorded for a minute and Georgie was supposed to do the vocals but something weird happened every time he tried to do it. He was busy with Blacklisted and I really wanted to do something, ’cause Cold World wasn’t very active, so I asked George and Haroun if I could just sing on it and they were down. Sausage put the record out and we’ve never even played, which is funny. I’d like to play a couple gigs and do another record but the other guys are busy with their shit. I really want to be prolific and put out a crazy amount of records in different bands, I just can’t find anybody to do bands with.
Prodigal and incredibly fragile son comes home to retire
Thursday, March 11, 2010
My friend Esoteric was curious about Boston’s love for Nomar Garciaparra, a player who flamed out, left acrimoniously and was overshadowed by his shortstop contemporaries and the franchise who would eventually win it all without him. Nomar, though, was — and still is —loved by Red Sox fans for his glory days, and for what he represented. Esotericasked why. I think, as a Red Sox fan, I can give a bit of an answer.
Of course, Nomar was a great Red Sox, the best homegrown player on a great team. Sure, the club had Manny and Pedro, but look at Nomar’s resume before 2000: Unanimous Rookie of the Year, then MVP runner-up, then two batting titles, all at shortstop. He slugged higher than A-Rod through his first four years (though being older and hitting at Fenway didn’t hurt), and was on a Hall of Fame path until his wrist injury. Looking back, that peak is easy to gloss over — he was bad longer than he was good — but for a time, Nomar Garciaparra was a very special baseball player.
The movie adaptation of “Moneyball,” Michael Lewis’ must-read book about the Oakland A’s changes to player evaluation in baseball, is back on course, with shooting set to resume this summer. Brad Pitt will play Oakland general manager Billy Beane, though there is one major casting change. The role of Paul DePodesta, the Harvard-educated statistician pictured above, will be played not by Demetri Martin, but by Jonah Hill.
Brooklyn girl can't resist the purge for weird guest
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
While glitz and glamour epitomizes NYC, the seedy cultural underbelly that created this great city has endured a slow suppression. Yes, the streets are clean and flocks of prostitutes have been stuffed indoors, but it’s not really about the hoes and crack. There’s a darkness that’s gone missing. My hope was to find any vestige of a live cultural underground or even just crazy ape shit1 that goes on behind closed doors, to remind myself that this city has not completely broken from its past.
What’s a Trumbull Man? I’m not entirely sure. But I know one (pause) when I see one. And Dwight “Doc” Gooden is that.
Doc broke into the bigs in 1984 and proceeded to pitch three years of the best baseball anyone ever saw. A Nike mural featuring the Mets ace remained on the side of the Holland Hotel on w. 42nd St. for 10 years. (Speaking of numbers, Doc’s appetite was revered around the clubhouse — one teammate claimed Gooden ate 30 chicken wings in one sitting.) The boy was young and skinny, tall like a string bean and straight out of high school in Tampa, Fla., (with a pit stop in Class A Lynchburg, where he went 19-4) with a 98 mph heater and an infectious fun-loving attitude that New York City adored. They nicknamed his curveball “Lord Charles” and dubbed him Doctor K, eventually shortened to Doc. He was The Man in New York during Wall Street’s heyday, though No. 16 would eventually amble down a dark path, struggling with cocaine addiction for the remainder of his career, which ended in 2001 with the Yankees at spring training.
A troubled a man as ever a Trumbull Man was, Dwight Gooden, we salute thee.
The baseball-rock nexus is a weird one. Lots of serious guys with goatees and bad white shoes, lots of guitars, lots of Americana. Some weird indie rock bands have baseball-themed albums. But this photo might be weirder. And weirder in the good Psycho Sin way, not the bad intense goatee way.
Are they really sending him away this time? Poor chap. He simply refused to go anywhere without … excessive firepower — I suppose it was only a matter of time before John Law caught up with our friend. Look, I’m strapped — that’s a given. You see this? This is a Remington. <discharges three shots into the ceiling> What does Dwayne need with scatter-shot and automatics? Oh, look, some of the ceiling’s landed on your hat.
I’ll sorely miss our South Beach shopping sprees and his jokes. There was the day I introduced him to crêpes at A La Folie. He loved them! He must have ordered five different kinds. Slim once told me — this was last year — oh, forget it.
The boys say they’ve been pestering you with a list of “Lil Wayne’s” best mixtape tracks on their Twitter account, and asked me to say a few words to introduce their fancy little playlist. So, without any further ado, Trumbull’s Top 10 Weezy mixtape jams:
We’ve written about IEDs before, and we’ve been inside the hurt locker. But the delicacy with which the cast members of MTV’s “Jersey Shore” handle the world’s scariest bomb in this clip makes us want to throw down our wireless keyboards and wave our white flag. It is well-known that Pauly D has the tendency to shy away from grenades, but Ronnie goes in:
Link futures are wallowing in recessionary social media sharing protocols
Friday, February 26, 2010
Hey everyone. This thing on? So, we were all over the place this week. Washington. Haiti. Beijing. Gov. Paterson‘s mansion. We took photos in the utility closet, which we called the “Hurt Locker.” Trust us, it’s funny. Not the closet itself, that place is the opposite of funny. It’s dark. Real dark.…
We dropped by Mike’s Apartment. He’s not in porno anymore, but he throws a hell of a party. Grillo’s Pickles made a cameo. Neysa Malone, the NYC street-famous singer called us with some news: “I got this new song ‘Walking Zombies.’ It’s about us against the zombies meaning everybody who is brainwashed by the media. In the video, we, the street fighters, take over. It should be out very soon!” Neysa’s been on her grind lately, and we’ll sure be keeping our eye on her this year.
“What happened to that dude, what fucking happened?”
The words rang out from my friend Zac Greer’s shiny, bic’d up head. Al Pacino was on television, one of many stars urging Americans to donate to One.com. The actor looked creaky and old, haggard. Zac was not exactly paying attention, but became saddened. What happened to Pacino, the strapping young colt of “The Panic in Needle Park”? What happened to Serpico, to Bobby Deerfield, to Glen Ross? Zac wondered aloud. We laughed, but five years since the ad’s air date, we’re still none of us sure.
I felt the same way Sunday night watching Canadian Olympic hockey team suffer an ignoble 5-3 home loss at American hands. What happened to the Canadian team, made up of All-Stars and Hall of Famers both? Where did our legs go? Why wasn’t there any fire from the point? Where was the development factory of years past, short and tall Quebecers, broad hosers and technically-citizens from British Columbia? What happened?
After Watching Beavis and Butthead watch Suicidal Tendencies Today
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sometimes it takes fewer words to say what needs to be said. I could spend an hour carping on the brilliance of one of my favorite shows, “Beavis and Butthead.” Some swear by “The Simpsons,” others, “Seinfeld.” Just as with music, I gravitate to Mike Judge’s product over others.
The titular characters are the crown jewel of the show — indeed, of any show on television. It is hard to believe that employees wrote their dialog for nothing more than money, that the two teens did not arrive fully formed. Same goes for Suicidal Tendencies. When the world was created, so too were they, only they bloomed later, around the ’80s. The best band from California, the second-best two-era band (after the Cro-Mags), the baddest dudes to wear Vans. It’s not whether this video is the best of all worlds or isn’t. It’s the truth, and “it speaks for itself.”
Taking the Bull by the throat at 1901 West Madison Street
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Benny, have a seat. No you may not. Keep it on. Benny, why did you disturb those men today? Which men? You know who we’re talking about, Benny.1 That’s right, Messrs. Carter and Combs, very good.
Now, Benny, we’ve talked about this — about the character. But certain men deserve respect, even from a character, don’t you think? Benny! You put that mask back on! I don’t wanna see your face right now, I am not in the mood!
Benny used to be played by Barry Anderson. With such similar names, mascot and maskee lost any individual distinction in the Bulls organization even before the events of July 2, 2006.
Have you been into the John Varvatos store lately, at 315 Bowery?
Did you feel a presence, someone or something, looming nearby? For those familiar with the history of the address, it is a troubling ordeal even to pass by on the sidewalk to see what’s become of one of New York City’s most fabled blocks, never mind the specters who haunt its vicinity. I refer, of course, to the skinheads of New York past. Ghosts nowadays, they used to stomp through this city like wild mastodons, rendering entire neighborhoods safe, or unsafe, depending on who you were.
Nate Turbow is a cartoonist and a DJ living in New York City. Follow him on twitter for updates on the party of life, or if you ever need a little extra motivation to do something awful.
Valuing the Face on the coin and bill, (Grover) Cleveland Style
Monday, February 15, 2010
As in American presidents. Israeli presidents don’t do much. Well, most don’t do much. Canadians have governor generals, who do even less. That said, I will be celebrating in proxy by watching Adrienne Clarkson Presents.
Assessing what's icy, what isn't online for Week 6, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Pitchers and catchers report in less than a week, which means that soon enough, we’ll be in the throes of the wonderful slow ticking that is a baseball season. I can’t wait. No discredit to my Canadian roots, but PFPs far outweigh skeleton and bobsled. Winter’s over for me. That said, the best hockey of the decade — non-Ottawa Senators division — begins in earnest on Tuesday. The olympic game is faster paced, with no TV timeouts, and flows better, or at least more, than its NHL counterpart. It’s like the Phoenix Suns of ice hockey, and is enough to sway some from the Don Cherry view of post-up, old-time hockey.
There’s plenty of room for the grand old game, and I’m a bit disappointed that a real hockey powerhouse, one with legit star power, was left off the docket.
He didn’t get the “American Gangster” soundtrack, but wrote a record anyway. On Sunday, Jay-Z likely missed out on halftime to The Who, but sang a joint anyways. Why not? I would have been more into a classics set from UNLV, but it might be a better idea to save that kind of forward-thinking for a Patriots-Buccaneers Superbowl.
Josh Feola's long look at the best of the rest of the Internet for week 5, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Our good friend Josh Feola, from Seravia, helps out with some heavy lifting as we try and get ourselves incorporated.
Science marches on to increasingly meta and postmodern frontiers. This week a few lazy chemists created self-stirring liquids. Meanwhile, a Japanese physicist with a higher ambition to laziness set the ball rolling on the one thing besides flying cars that we all thought would have arrived by this millennium: teleportation. Actually, his achievement (which if I understand correctly is basically just an idea I’ve also heard explained by the wisdom cube) is more philosophy than physics. Basically, you have these theoretical particles floating around the universe, that you measure somehow, and then “the measurement on the first particle injects quantum energy into the system …. [and] by carefully choosing the measurement to do on the second particle, it is possible to extract the original energy.” Dude. If we continue at this rate we may soon surpass plants in quantum efficiency.
Back for more, are you? Wielding our camera like a rusty machete, we crudely bushwhack further into L.L. Bean’s hunting section to bring you photographic evidence of some very special products. Dog boots, magnum honkers, and a cornucopia of wild animal scents. I bet this girl’s mom is on Bean’s mailing list … where else is she going to find shit to stuff Wolfie’s stocking with for Christmas? We’ve also captured some historical images from the company’s 1912 Cafe. But you don’t have to go back in time to find a good pair of boots — Bean’s Freeport store is open 24/7, no kidding, and they still make ‘em like they used to.1
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Footnotes
For the most part. Some products are no longer made in the USA. But that's quibbling...
L.L. Bean caught creeping when home for the holidays
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
click for slideshow
You know how it is when you’re home, for the holidays, and you just need to get the fuck out of the house?
Welcome to Freeport, Maine, famous for its outlet shopping and being home to the great American outdoor wear and boot manufacturer, L.L. Bean. Freeport is a coastal town in Southern Maine, though its retail center, bisected by Route 1, is not oriented on the waterfront. It is home to the world’s tallest Native American (pictured above) and Joan Benoit Samuelson, the Olympic marathon champion. There is an area of land protected by the Audubon Society called the Mast Landing Bird Sanctuary located just one mile east of downtown Freeport. The preserve is oddly juxtaposed with L.L. Bean, who sells everything you or your dog would ever need to trap, confuse, or assassinate any type of foul that might even consider sticking their beak in Mast Landing. I don’t know why you’d want to do that, though, so just take it easy, man.
