White Magicians
Term has started, and all in all I'm looking forward to the second half of my New York education. I will primarily be reporting from the Bronx, a borough that got its name from a Swedish seaman - Jonas Bronck - who bought a large piece of land there in 1639. My knowledge of 17th-century Swedish hobbies is limited, so I'll just resort to (stereo)type and imagine he entertained a large collection of Scandinavian hotties during his time there. Specifically a smorgasbord of them.
My stories will be published in a bi-weekly school publication, The Bronx Beat, which has a circulation of at least '6,000'. Considering that the population of the Bronx numbers over 1.3 million, it is heartening to know that about 1/2000th of the neighbourhood I am covering will get to read the paper (or use it as a bedsheet). My mother heard from her rich American friends that the Bronx is dangerous, and now warns me every time to go there in large groups. At least if I get decapitated, 1/2000th of the Bronx will shed a tear for me.
Our first staff meeting was held in a community centre in the Bronx, where, true to American style, a 'panel' of working journalists gathered to tell us about the community they knew so well. Except again, true to American style, the only topics covered were the biographies of each panelist and where the best place was to get a cheesecake. New Yorkers love nothing more than to recommend restaurants. The entire panel lit up when our professor asked them for restaurant tips, and the first one to answer regaled us with his tale of a restaurant "with no sign". He told us that the restaurant's owner, Iqbal, makes great Pakistani food "in the back". Hmmm. It could just be...the house of a hospitable immigrant? Anyway, the point of the anecdote was not to recommend the food, it was to recommend a 'restaurant' that nobody knew about because it doesn't even have a sign. The rest of the panel sighed in frustration, as they knew they had been out-Zagated.
One other thing I did recently was go downtown to catch Doug Shaw's band, White Magic, at the Mercury Lounge. Well I say Doug Shaw's band, in fact it's his girlfriend's, Mira Billotte, who sings and plays piano while Doug alternately rattles out guitar chords and bangs on the drums. They have a new album out, Dat Rosa Mel Apibus, which of course I got for free because I'm Doug's childhood friend. Their sound is basically psychedelic indie-folk, with extended jamming and occasional cymbal-crashing. They have some good tunes, but if they just chopped two minutes off each song and wrote some proper lyrics they'd have a hit on their hands (but what do I know?) When I told Doug about the upcoming success of Mika Penniman, he looked crestfallen. He needn't worry, because the New York Times wrote a big fat review of his band's gig! It was a bit snooty, but still, a write-up in the New York Times! Here is the final summation from windbag critic Ben Ratliff: "This was deeply deceptive music, driving toward something not altogether satisfying but still fascinating: a deadpan warmth, a halfhearted bliss." Honestly, you could end every gig review ever with that sentence. Even one about Rotting Christ.
My stories will be published in a bi-weekly school publication, The Bronx Beat, which has a circulation of at least '6,000'. Considering that the population of the Bronx numbers over 1.3 million, it is heartening to know that about 1/2000th of the neighbourhood I am covering will get to read the paper (or use it as a bedsheet). My mother heard from her rich American friends that the Bronx is dangerous, and now warns me every time to go there in large groups. At least if I get decapitated, 1/2000th of the Bronx will shed a tear for me.
Our first staff meeting was held in a community centre in the Bronx, where, true to American style, a 'panel' of working journalists gathered to tell us about the community they knew so well. Except again, true to American style, the only topics covered were the biographies of each panelist and where the best place was to get a cheesecake. New Yorkers love nothing more than to recommend restaurants. The entire panel lit up when our professor asked them for restaurant tips, and the first one to answer regaled us with his tale of a restaurant "with no sign". He told us that the restaurant's owner, Iqbal, makes great Pakistani food "in the back". Hmmm. It could just be...the house of a hospitable immigrant? Anyway, the point of the anecdote was not to recommend the food, it was to recommend a 'restaurant' that nobody knew about because it doesn't even have a sign. The rest of the panel sighed in frustration, as they knew they had been out-Zagated.
One other thing I did recently was go downtown to catch Doug Shaw's band, White Magic, at the Mercury Lounge. Well I say Doug Shaw's band, in fact it's his girlfriend's, Mira Billotte, who sings and plays piano while Doug alternately rattles out guitar chords and bangs on the drums. They have a new album out, Dat Rosa Mel Apibus, which of course I got for free because I'm Doug's childhood friend. Their sound is basically psychedelic indie-folk, with extended jamming and occasional cymbal-crashing. They have some good tunes, but if they just chopped two minutes off each song and wrote some proper lyrics they'd have a hit on their hands (but what do I know?) When I told Doug about the upcoming success of Mika Penniman, he looked crestfallen. He needn't worry, because the New York Times wrote a big fat review of his band's gig! It was a bit snooty, but still, a write-up in the New York Times! Here is the final summation from windbag critic Ben Ratliff: "This was deeply deceptive music, driving toward something not altogether satisfying but still fascinating: a deadpan warmth, a halfhearted bliss." Honestly, you could end every gig review ever with that sentence. Even one about Rotting Christ.
posted by L.R.A. Laurent at 1:11 AM
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