OH MY GOD BASEDDOG I MEAN BASEDGOD YOU THOUGHT THE SAVINGS WERE OVER BUT THEY WEREN’T THEY WERE JUST GETTING STARTED AHHH!!!! We know a lot of you couldn’t make it to either of our stores this weekend to take advantage of the Holiday Black Friday Sale, but did you really believe that we would leave you out to dry?
Aww hell naw! Today, for one day only, the entirety of the brand new Holiday collection is 20% off in the online store. This is a totally amazing opportunity to load up on all the great new stuff that is absolutely perfect for winter. Plus, our Fall collection is still experiencing savings of up to 50% off! So, what’re you waiting for?! Go save some money!
You can always count on Comet Gain. Seriously, if there were a Most Dependable Band On Earth prize, they’d totally win it; even after nearly 20 years, the Brit-pop powerhouse is still churning out album after album of jangly, catchy, characteristically verbose tracks. And they never really falter. You may love City Fallen Leaves better than Howl of the Lonely Crowd (and Broken Record Prayers better than that), but it’s only by a margin.
And like ‘em or not, that’s no easy feat. It may be tough to sustain such smooth and steady songwriting over two decades, but it’s even tougher to sound so stoked about the process. Even if you treasure it with every bone in your body, every synapse in your brain, most artists (especially after enduring a whole bevy of line-up changes) are bound to come off a little weary. But Howl of the Lonely Crowd feels nearly as fresh-faced as the band’s earliest records, just as exuberant as Magnetic Poetry, as wide-eyed and wondrous as Realistes. You can credit some of that to Edwyn Collins’ presence behind the board — I mean, my god, who wouldn’t be stoked to work with him? Orange Juice! Orange Juice! — but the excitement’s also ingrained in the fiber of Comet Gain’s being. They love this shit, man, and it’s contagious.
But be prepared: Howl of the Lonely Crowd is best in its first half. Tracks like “Clang of the Concrete Swans” and the power-pop “The Weekend Dreams” and “An Arcade from the Warm Rain That Falls” run circles around much of the album, with only closers “In a Lonely Place” and “Ballad for Frankie Machine” daring touch them. Still, don’t discredit mid-album creepers like “After Midnight, It’s Gone All Wrong;” these slow jams may feel skippable at first listen, but they’ll get better with each subsequent spin. Because, remember, Comet Gain are nothing if not consistent; even the slower-to-love tracks get at you eventually.
As our brand becomes a little older, we find ourselves looking back with fond nostalgia at some of our favorite graphics and pieces from seasons past. So, instead of sitting around on our tuchus, we decided to do something about it. We’re happy to announce, starting with Holiday 2011, each new collection will contain re-releases of some old designs under the banner of the “Мишка Archives Collection.” Woo-hoo!
For the first installment, we’re bringing back two faves in tee AND sweatshirt form. First we have the mysterious space sirens, yes folks I’m talking about Der Kosmos, back in threetee colorways and twocrewnecks! Der Kosmos was illustrated by Robin Nishio, our longtime friend from Toronto who’s done work for Nike, DC Shoes, Vice Magazine, and more. In addition we’re also giving you another chance to pick up Rock Is Still King, the work of illustrator Jon Vermilyea. Who doesn’t want Simon holding a guitar and a severed demon head? Plus it’s inspired by the classic “Rock Is King” deck graphic. That too will be in threeteecolorways and a black zip-up. Get’em both this time, ’cause who knows when and if they’ll be coming back again.
Мишка
350 Broadway
Brooklyn, NY
718-388-1725
— Мишка LA
1547 Echo Park Ave
Los Angeles, CA
213-536-4234
Bestial Mouths are a real tribute to their name: Feral, intense. Luscious. They sound like blood dripping off lips or flesh torn from bone. Despite any bit of maudlin imagery, that deep and watery haze of a visual vibe, there’s nothing detached about this Los Angeles band; each song sounds like it’d claw out your heart if it could.
Now multiply that bloodlust by a trillion and you’ve got debut Hissing Veil. This thing’ll send you recoiling: Carnal beats, synths piercing all jagged and rusty through your veins, Lynette Cerezo’s howl like a sacrifice waiting to happen.
Bestial Mouths channel the long-defunct Jaks in a darker, even more confrontational way; rather than come at you with pure noise and bravado, they attack with legitimate desperation. An animalistic reaction to the constant thrum of fear. Their Tumblr says it best: Even in my dreams, the screaming never stops.
Grab the (very) limited-edition Hissing Veil LP from Dais Records and lurk around LA for one of the band’s shows. Rumor has it they’re vicious.
Hey, how was your holiday? Whatever. This week’s debrief comes to you straight from my parents’ sofa in San Francisco where I’m watching Elf for the third time and having my mother make me all kinds of snacks. We’re all about to get “tanked up” though, as my dad says, so let’s run through this debrief quickly.
Black Friday
With Thanksgiving over, the Christmas season is now officially underway, and with that comes the traditional pepper spraying, shooting, and stabbing of holiday shoppers. What, that’s not tradition where you’re from? Oh it’s not traditional here either? Well, it unfortunately might be now. This year, shoppers intending to capitalize on Black Friday deals had more to deal with than just long lines, as people across the country were injured in attempts to get survival necessities like Xboxes and waffle makers.
Nationwide, the biggest story to come out of the near-Black Friday Massacre, was that of a woman who pepper sprayed over twenty people in a Los Angeles-area Walmart in order to get to a crate of Xboxes. Though really, can you blame her? Those things go fast. And apparently, a security guard in North Carolina also pepper sprayed customers looking for various electronics. Two Xboxes says he’s from Davis.
Crowds in New York reportedly looted a Soho clothing store, a crime that could be committed at any point during the year, thereby defeating the purpose of Black Friday. And in San Leandro a woman was robbed and shot in the foot while loading her Black Friday purchases into her car. In retaliation, her husband took out and fired a sawed-off shotgun from the glove compartment, because that just happened to be in there. With Americans outdoing even a fictionalized enraged version of themselves, we can only hope for a string of viruses and internet bullying on Cyber Monday.
Here’s a thought: Dr. Pepper should be the name of a superhero who wields pepper spray.
Just a thought.
Black Star Friday
For those uninterested in scoring deals, as well as a burning sensation in their eyes, Black Friday also turned out to be Black Star Friday. Just when you thought the year of colossal hip hop duos was over, Mos Def (recently switching to the name Yasiin Bey, though here he will just be known as Mos Def because the name change is unnecessary) and Talib Kweli (recently switching to the name Mos Def, now that it’s available) (not really) return as Black Star and drop two new songs. The first, “Fix Up” is available on iTunesand will be on their upcoming album, and the other, “You Already Knew” is available for free on their website, and is from their upcoming mixtape Aretha.
The two tracks, produced by Madlib and Oh No, respectively, are great. With nice soul samples and quality rhymes, they’re exactly what you would expect from two emcees of this caliber. Production-wise, however, something is off. The beats are wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but the songs both sound unmixed. “You Already Knew” isn’t as bad, but “Fix Up” sounds straight up like it was recorded with a built-in laptop microphone, which is funny because at the beginning Mos can be heard saying, “Nice. Nice levels.” Nice levels, they are not. Go download these songs, I’m out of jokes.
Santa Claus Is Dead
With Elf wrapping up for the third time, a perplexing thought has occurred to me. What’s the connection between Santa Claus and Jesus Christ? While Christmas is technically the celebration of Jesus’ birthday, it is very much also about Santa. It’s like Santa Day; the one day each year he gets to exhibit all of the hard work that he’s done for Hasbro and Mattel and Lego and Nintendo. At some point St. Nick must have taken over as the authority on Christ’s birthday, but, I mean, when did that happen? How did they even get that arrangement going?
“Listen, Nick, I want you to co-sponsor my birthday. Every year, on the night of December 24, go around the world and give people gifts.”
And then what did Nick say?
“Yeah JC, I’m in.”
Is there someway I can get a Saint to co-sponsor my birthday?
Then Christ likely threw in the whole disclaimer about how Nick would have to move to the North Pole, change his name to Santa, and spend all year hand-making toys with the help of a bunch of magical beings. What’s puzzling though is why this switch was even made. Was Jesus unable to handle his own birthday duties? He is a pretty important guy; I could understand if he’s got other things going on. But at this point, Christmas, at least in my barely-Jewish household, is solely about Santa (if that. What’s up, consumerism?).
In actuality (as actual as this discussion could ever get), that could never have been the condition under which Nick took the reins of Christmas. Let’s not forget that a person must die before becoming a saint, an unfortunate policy that still, to this day, bums the hell out of me (I think I’m a perfect candidate for sainthood. My mother agrees). What this means is that JC never even spoke to Nick about him being his birthday mascot, as both of them were dead when the decision was made. Further, ol’ St. Nick didn’t even have a choice when it came to working all year making toys for people in exchange for, if he’s lucky, some Pepperidge Farm cookies. At some point a priest, or the pope, or maybe God himself, must have decided that someone needed to be the new face of Christmas.
“You know, we need to spice up Jesus’ birthday. I think we need a mascot.”
“You do?” asked another person in the conversation.
“Yeah. Definitely. Let’s just give it to Nick, he’s a saint now, right?”
And what a way for a saint to be rewarded. You spend your whole life being saintly, and then you’re rewarded with an afterlife full of physical labor. And let’s face it, Mrs. Claus is no trophy wife. At least for St. Valentine, he’s got Cupid working on his day. So what are we to believe, Santa is a ghost forever inhabiting the North Pole? That sure would make the whole chimney thing more feasible. Or, rather, is he the renegade saint who hi-jacked Christ’s b-day? Oh, none of this matters because Santa doesn’t exist? Well, true, maybe, but culturally he exists, and culturally he is the representative of someone else’s birthday, which is weird. If someone had told Nick while he was alive that one day he would be known for piloting a reindeer-assisted sled and work all year long with a bunch of elves, all in the name of Jesus, he probably would’ve been excited. Really excited. It’s Christmas time. Get excited.
Over the past couple of months, there’s been a lot of shit talking about Netflix. From raising membership fees (boo hoo it’s still dirt cheap) to their oafish blunder with Qwikster – kicking sand in Netflix’s face has been all the rage lately. But while others have been trying to burn the greatest invention of the 21st century at the stake, I’ve been balls deep in Watch Instantly on the daily.
Recently, the suits at my “real job” have moved me to a remote office all by myself, so Watch Instantly has been my bitch for 40 hours a week. While cruising for a flick the other day, I got the inspired urge to search “Elliot Gould.” Mr. Gould is one of the most mesmerizing, natural actors ever – his turn in Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye has me drooling no matter how many times I see it and your mother probably liked him in MASH. I was tickled and baffled to discover that Netflix is currently streaming one of Gould’s rarest gems: 1974′s Busting. This one isn’t even on DVD yet (although according to Amazon, it’s getting a release in Jan. 2012). There’s not even a trailer for it! It’s one of the “unreleased” blessings on Netflix; films not available on DVD but streaming nonetheless.
Written and directed by Peter Hyams (a Мишка Rewind alumni with his badass sci-fi drug flick Outland), Busting is a gritty, cynical cop flick in the tradition of The French Connection. Elliot Gould and Robert “Baretta” Blake star as undercover vice cops sick and fucking tired of seeing their prey walk away on legal technicalities. After the higher-ups assign them the humiliating task of busting perverts in a public bathroom, the duo decide to discreetly go vigilante and take on LA’s drug and prostitution kingpin: Rizzo (played by ’70s and ’80s character staple Allen Garfield).
Over 90 minutes, Gould and Blake take on a dirty dentist, a seductive hooker, an entire gay bar, a smut peddler, and, in one of the the most thrilling and well-choreographed foot chases put to film, a trio of drug dealers. No lie, the chase goes from a dark, claustrophobic apartment to a crowded market and every second of it is insane! Constantly the camera moves in ways that would have most contemporary action directors shitting their CGI pants. And through it all Elliot Gould has some bullet-proof swag. From his knitted pom hat and varsity jacket to his handlebar ‘stache and slim-fit three piece – Gould is like a well dressed deity of The Cool.
In conclusion: if you aren’t entertained by Busting, you’re a stuck-up retard and I never want to talk to you again. There. I said it.
*Elliot Gould Side Note: A couple years ago, I went to a screening of The Long Goodbye at Boston’s historic Brattle Theater. Gould was in attendance and was one of the most humble, intelligent, and hilarious Hollywood stars I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t have guessed this was a living legend who was once married to Barbara Streisand. He was like any other schmuck who was just their to dig on a great movie. More proof that Gould is the shit: he called the Oscars a “masturbatory fantasy.” Truth!
Now that splattercuts have been, to a degree, monetized (in the sense that there are actual movie studios devotes solely to making them) it’s always nice to be reminded of their humble and heartwarming (and heartbursting) origin as something a couple young people put together with a dinky camera and buckets of corn syrup and food dye. Portugal based creative group Clones is one whose films I’ve enjoyed over the past year or so.
The trailer for their soon-to-be-released short Banana Motherfucker is up top and it looks to be a wholly worthy successor to their earlier works BLARGHAAARHGARG and the hilarious Papá Wrestling!As they’ve had considerable success on the festival circuit, the films get better and better with confidence (not to mention budget). And besides, who doesn’t like the oddly repeated horror trope of killer fruits/veggies.
We’ve already given you a taste of this season’s snapbacks, but don’t think we’re not looking out for everyone who knows what it’s like to explain why you gotta keep the sticker on the brim. It’s time to get fitted. We’ve ordered up a fresh delivery of New Era’s in for Holiday and we know you’re gonna love’em. Sometimes you just wanna keep it simple, so we stuck to our roots and showcased our three classic characters.
Perhaps our most recognizable product, the Keep Watch New Era will never not be a good choice, and this season I’m particularly smitten with the black and blue colorway. Makes that bloody eyeball really pop, y’know? Then there’s the Oversized Mop style, which is available for the first time in color-on-color, with both a royal blue and grayscale version. Finally, there’s my personal favorite Mishka mascot, the Death Adder New Era, back in all his serpentine glory to freak people out with neon glowing eyes. Enjoy.
Мишка
350 Broadway
Brooklyn, NY
718-388-1725
— Мишка LA
1547 Echo Park Ave
Los Angeles, CA
213-536-4234
Though it’s only been a few months since its release, I’m seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’ve slept on playing Atlus‘ superb game Catherine until now. Whilst I was in GameStop last week picking up my copy of The Legend Of Zelda: Skyward Sword (a review of which is forthcoming) I saw that Catherine was used and on sale for like $20 so, because I’m an idiot who can’t say no despite the fact that I still have days of Skyrim left to play, I bought it.
Good choice me! I’ve been talking all year about how, despite the fact that it’s been an undeniably fantastic year for gaming, I’ve really been on the hunt for that game experience that isn’t like everything else. Not an RPG, certainly not an FPS, no sports, not action/adventure. A difficult and usually impossible thing to hope for really. But then we have Catherine, exactly what I was searching for. An experience that is at once completely over the top and goofy (not to mention incredibly Japanese) and also one of the most mature games I’ve ever encountered.
There is no saving the world to be done in this game. No, this is a game who’s central theme and explorations are into relationships, namely fidelity. You play as Vincent, an early thirties guy working a menial job who likes to hang out with his friends at a bar, The Stray Sheep. He’s also got a girlfriend, the perfectly nice, if not nicely perfect, Katherine. Half of the game takes place here, talking to people, ordering drinks, sending texts, playing with the jukebox or arcade machines, and generally living Vincent’s very believable and very well written life.
Especially after the introduction of a mysterious blonde ingenue, coincidentally named Catherine, Vincent’s life becomes ever more complicated as he (or should I say you) navigates the pitfalls of his relationship and what it means to him while coming to terms with maturity, going after your dreams, pragmatism, alcoholism, fear of commitment, and all kinds of other heady and tastefully handled subjects. All presented in a wonderful art style indebted to, of course, anime.
Now that more Sim like aspect of the game is completely fantastic, but there is another half of the game, the hardcore and rewarding puzzler that takes place every night in Vincent’s dreams. A series of increasingly (incredibly so) difficult block-based puzzles, the nightmares find Vincent running away from evil monsters (who may or may not be manifestations of Katherine. Or Catherine) clad only in pink-heart boxers, clutching his pillow, and sporting a pair of rams horns.
I realize that what I am describing sounds incredibly bizarre, and that’s because it is, but it is in a very calculated, smart, and affecting way. I really enjoyed this game, and cared about my avatar Vincent more than I ever have about, say, Nathan Drake. It reminded me that games don’t always have to be about killing things. That sounds glib, but think about it. I’m not saying I wish every game was like this, but go out and see if you can’t dig up a cheap used copy too. I guarantee you won’t regret it.
Sup ninjas! Over the past few months I’ve been enjoying Saturday Night Live writer Mike O’Brien’s webseries 7 Minutes In Heaven. They’re basically odd little interviews carried out in a closet (Mike’s closet perhaps?) with some of Hollywood’s funniest peeps, and original music by Magnolia Memoir. Imagine my delight this week when I saw that the guests Mike has russled up were none other than the Insane Clown Posse themselves, Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope.
If you’ve ever seen an ICP show (I caught my first about a month ago), you’ll know that these two gents are extremely charismatic, and are down to poke some serious fun at themselves with Mr. O’Brien. Heck, Violent J even gets his smooch on with Mike at the end. At least one comes out every week, you should check some other ones out. Whoop whoop!
