Shorten your words, shorten your meanings, make it snap, make it count. Genius is doing something brilliant with simple things.
Here’s to Daniel Johnston’s magnificent Devil Town lyrics (and the pretty awesome Bright Eyes interpration).
I was living in a Devil Town
Didn’t know it was a Devil Town
Oh Lord it really brings me down
About the Devil Town
And all my friend were vampires
Didn’t know they were vampires
Turns out I was a vampire myself
In the Devil Town
I was living in a Devil Town
Didn’t know it was a Devil Town
Oh Lord it really brings me down
About the Devil Town.
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Jason Schwartzman is a little genius in the making.
Not only is the 26-year old a fabulous actor, he also co-wrote the upcoming Wes Anderson pic The Darjeeling Limited with Wes himself and Schwartzman’s cousin Roman Coppola (yeah, son & brother of). These pics were taken in India where they have just wrapped up filming the movie. Hopefully it will hit the theatres before the year is over.
But to make things even worse, I also discovered Jason’s myspace page which features probably one of most fun & poppy songs of the year so far: West Coast.
So the boy can sing as well? Damn you Jason, damn you!
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Deep down, no one really believes they have a right to live. But this death sentence generally stays tucked away, hidden beneath the difficulty of living. If that difficulty is removed from time to time, death is suddenly there, unintelligibly.
Thus perhaps at stake has always been the murderous capacity of images: murderers of the real; murderers of their own model as the Byzantine icons could murder the divine identity. To this murderous capacity is opposed the dialectical capacit of represenations as a visible and intelligible mediation of the real. All of Western faith and good faith was engaged in this wager on represenation: that a sign could refer to the depth of meaning, that a sign could exchange for meaning and that something could guarantee this excahnge–God, of course. But what if God himself can be simulated, that is to say, reduced to the signs which atttest his existence? Then the whole system becomes weighteless; it is no longer anything but a gigantic simulacrum: not unreal, but a simulacrum, never again exchanging for what is real, but exchanging in itself, in an uninterrupted circuit without reference or circumference.
At male strip shows, it is still the women that we watch, the audience of women and their eager faces. They are more obscene than if they were dancing naked themselves.
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The first essential, the life and soul of Tragedy, is the plot; and then the characters come second. Compare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful colours laid on without order (unity) will not give one the same pleasure as a simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait.
– Aristotle
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And she has been holding on for too long.
And where will she go?
But don’t worry cuz I am leaving
And don’t worry
And your thoughts aren’t clear
And I’m thinking about you
And your brother won’t be found
And you’ve stopped
And you’ve stopped
And you’ve stopped killing
The Glasgow-based band The Twilight Sad are great guys to hang with and their self-titled EP is slowly becoming one of my most played records of the year sofar.
In a few weeks time (march 19th) Fat Cat will release their debut album called “That Summer, At Home I Had Become The Invisible Boy”.
I’m not sure if the album has the same songs as the EP, but hopefully this amazing song Three Seconds of Dead Air is on it.
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