Demented And Sad, But Social – John Hughes/Breakfast Club Tribute By Flux In LA

Demented And Sad But Social – John Hughes Breakast Club Tribute By Flux in LA

By Ali MacLean

By all outward accounts, I lived a charmed high school existence. An A student with long honey colored hair, I played soccer and was captain of the cheerleading squad. We even competed at a national level, which got our picture on the front page of the Boston Globe sports section and on national television. So, I had it pretty sweet. Right? Yeah, right.

Anyone who has seen a John Hughes movie knows the halls of a high school are shark- infested waters that are difficult to navigate. The same was true for me. I lay awake at night worried about everything from what to where, what was going to be on the test, which bitch would be bothering me in the corridors, who to eat lunch with and other terrors of the high school caste system. At most times I felt like a cast member of Heathers, rather than John’s sweeter films, but having his movies gave me strength.

Sure, other teen film auteurs pointed out that the geeks have a hard time of it in school. But John was one of the first to point out that maybe the Claires of this world had just as miserable an experience as all the other kids. Thank Fucking God someone was reading my diary! You mean I’m not the only one who is moody?  It’s ok to be depressed even if you’re sort of smart or pretty or athletic? There are other kids out there feeling ennui of French existentialist proportions? It’s OK to want to blow up your high school with your mind?

Being a cheerleader didn’t really mean anything to me, inwardly. It never occurred to me that I was a popular kid, just like it never occurred to me that other kids were going through the same thing I was. That is, until I saw John’s scripts so eloquently spell it out. Hughes had a knack for getting inside a teen’s head and letting them speak and emote without it sounding like some WB drivel with Paula Cole in the background. Hughes characters, as archetypal as they were drawn to be, were funny, quirky and all too real. It was entirely possible and understandable that I could relate to both Claire AND Alison in the Breakfast Club. OK, I related to Bender, too a little bit. But my rebellion would come a bit later.

Part of Hughes’ talent is that each of his films created characters that everyone could relate to. I felt such a kinship to Samantha in Sixteen Candles, the perennial sophomore whose family doesn’t seem to recognize her misery and pining for Jake Ryan. Or, what seemed like an even bigger crime, they forget to recognize her own birthday, a horror that I’ve over compensated for in such an extreme, that I demand that my birthday be relegated to national holiday status by all friends and family. No, really. October 14th. Mark it down.

Another Molly I related to was crafty Andie. Growing up in posh Newton, it was pretty easy to feel if you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Basically if you didn’t get a new beemer for your sweet sixteen, you were poor. All the Esprit in the world couldn’t save me from my fate. So I started thrifting at an early age. My friend Rima and I would hang out in Harvard Square and pick up strange bohemian trinkets and later fashion them into jewelry. Soon enough I was sporting torn jeans and army fatigues and wearing combat boots with my cheerleading skirt. That didn’t go down well with the Heathers. But what they thought didn’t matter. I would think of Andie with her shears cutting away at pink tulle, dreaming of a boy named after an appliance and trying to gently let down the best friend. It is a triangle scenario that would reappear many times for me in the future: the seemingly unattainable guy who actually might like me vs. the platonic friend who makes me laugh, who might not be so platonic. Decisions are tough but what’s important is that it’s handled with grace…

Possibly my first Hughes obsession during my childhood was Ferris Bueller. I must have seen that movie ten times in the theater and countless times on cable. Partially the mystique was Broderick’s winsome ability to get away with murder and a bit of it was probably the movie’s ability to annoy my parents who were school administrators and professors. Of course, years later, my father admits Jeffrey Jones was probably the best teen comedy foil ever put on film. I have to agree. While I rooted fro Ferris every bounce, wink and mile clocked on the alpha, I do admit I connected deeply to the oft irritated sister Jeannie. Who hasn’t felt a sibling rivalry ratcheted up to a frenzied pitch? OK perhaps the zany parade hijacking and jailhouse scenes may have been omitted from your own family tales but I felt for Jeannie, the least liked Bueller family member. Ferris was just so fun, so popular, so friendly. And Jeannie…wasn’t. Playing by the rules got her nowhere and whining about it got her nowhere fast. Even her cat and mouse game of getting even didn’t pan out. I feel for you Jeannie. Even when I wasn’t the one in the wrong, I was the one sent to my room.

However, the film that everyone comes back to…the one that was recently aped by a documentary film’s ad campaign (American Teen) is The Breakfast Club. The idea of detention is a bummer. But detention on a Saturday? With a bunch of kids not in your clique? I mean, omigawd! Part of what makes the pathos so strong is that though the characters are stereotypes, they are fully drawn out. How else could I be each of these people? I certainly was seen by some to be the bitchy popular girl, Claire. But I identified with the Zeppelin flannel wearing burn-outs like Bender. They probably were the first to listen to grunge! Who hasn’t felt isolated and alone like Allison at some point in their life? I’m most definitely competitive and as a cheerleader competing at a national level, I could relate to Andy’s pressure to win. I even felt the enormous pressure the geek, Brian felt. Not to make a science project or lamp work. But taking Latin classes before school to boost my SAT scores didn’t really do anything for my street cred.

Tomorrow night in Hollywood, the FLUX film series at the Montalban will allow us all to once again become the Jock, the Princess, the Brain, the Criminal and the Basket Case.

In a tribute to John Hughes, guests are being asked to email in photos of themselves from high school and are encouraged to dress in their most fabulous 80s outfit for the screening. Some of use will pull our cloths out of mothballs and others will go over to Urban Outfitters and buy new versions of 80′s disasters that never should have been re-created. Or created in the first place.

A slide show of the emailed high school pictures will be projected through out the night.

This special evening is part of Cinema Tuesdays, a monthly series curated by Flux celebrating innovative film at The Montalbán, Nike Sportswears unique retail and special events theatre in Hollywood.

Tuesday August 25th, 2009

7PM Reunion
8PM Screening + After-party with Lady Sinclair and cocktails by Belvedere Macerated.

Nike Sportswear at The Montalbán
1615 Vine Street
Hollywood, CA

The Voice Project debuts in Hollywood – Pass It On!

Tuesday night was the first official The Voice Project fundraiser event.

The Voice Project Foundation is a not-for-profit public benefit corporation. The foundation’s mission is to raise awareness and financial support for those using art to enact meaningful social change by using art for said change.

Hunter Heaney and I conceived this organization back in January, and it’s been the little group that could, thanks to a group of amazingly talented, well connected, hard working and passionate people who have joined the cause.

The event took place at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel’s Tropicana pool bar during David and David’s Nightswim event.

Also celebrating that night was Alex Ebert (Ima Robot) and his new band Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. A listening party of their new album took place earlier in the evening.

DJs Chris Holmes, Ana Calderon and special guest DJ Devendra Banhart treated the guests to tunes and hospitality.

Liz Miller, Alycia Astudillo and I manned the Voice Project suite inside.

People came in to watch our VP video, read leaflets and purchase Voice Project t-shirts, designed by the talented Ramsey.

Some special guests showed up to help further the cause, including 30 Rock’s Jack McBrayer, Lonely Island’s Akiva (I’m On A Boat) Schaffer,

Tom Green

DJ Poet from the Black Eyed Peas

and even Lindsay Lohan, who jumped onto the decks and played some Nancy Sinatra.

It was a fantastic night where a lot of money and awareness was raised and good times were had.

Proceeds will go to our inaugural project, which is to support the women of Northern Uganda in their efforts using music to lead the Peace and Reconciliation efforts in the region of Northern Uganda, Eastern DR Congo and Southern Sudan.

Women of Northern Uganda; widows, rape survivors and former abductees have been banding together in groups to support each other and those oprhaned byt the war and the diseases so prevalent in the IDP camps. They are singing songs. The lyrics let the former ‘soldiers’, i.e. children abducted by the LRA and forced to fight agaisnt their own families, know that they are forgiven and they should come home. The songs are passed by word of mouth out into the bush. It is working. For the first time in 22 years, the region has a reach chance at peace.

The Voice Project is an attempt to support these incredible women.The strength, the message and the art of these women can benefit the world and in return, we can help carry their message, provide basic necessities and the tools to further develop their own communities and businesses.

Music and voices that carry, they can end wars. These incredible women have shown us that. Pass it on.

If you’d like to get involved with The Voice Project please visit www.voiceproject.org

Space Oddities – Looking For Rock In All The Weird Places

Space Oddities – Looking For Rock In All The Weird Places

by Ali MacLean

In this town, it’s easy to get jaded. Every club or party these days seems to need to top some pinnacle of bacchanale… a regular night with drinks and music just wont do. A warehouse rave is just ordinary. It has to be louder, harder, faster: rollerskating parties, dodgeball parties, plastic surgery parties, parties where you’re in a video game, parties where you come as your spirit animal, parties in a subway car, parties in the basement of the Ramada, Edward Scissorshands parties, staring contest parties…the weirder the better.

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And now rock shows are going by way of parties. It’s not enough to just stage something in any old raw space or polo field. First Fridays sets up songs next to stuffed Woolly Mammoths and dinosaur bones. Tom Morello raged against deus ex machinas in a Venice Church. DJ Squeak E Clean has dropped it like it’s hot at a Hollywood car wash while fashionista DJs The Misshapes have spun for the well heeled in an airplane hangar, complete with planes standing by.

It’s time to step it up to the realm of absolutely bizarre. Rock show in a cemetery? Check.

Glasvegas are known in Hollywood more for their cataclysmic buzz and for disappointing a sweaty Coachella crowd by their last minute cancellation. Tough it’d be odd to see these Scots in a searingly hot desert rather than in pissing rain. Perhaps that’s why their playing at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery just fit. But a show at a cemetery? It has to be some sort of sacrilege or at the very least a nuisance to those who haven’t quite crossed over. And seeing how out of control Angelinos can get when their basketball team wins. Do we really want to start a riot on a hell mouth just so some indie kids can rock out in a new, exciting way?

Traipsing over graves to get to the gig, I was already feeling guilty for looking for fun in a place of death. Maybe I’m not so goth or emo after all. I’ve been interested in seeing Glasvegas since NME editor Conor McNicholas recommended them to me last year, but with all the huge hype surrounding them, I was expecting to be disappointed.

The staid, upwardly mobile hipster crowd, waited patiently as the Glasvegas wake was delayed by nearly an hour. Finally, fresh off a stunt/gig at another strange venue (Las Vegas wedding chapel), James and Rab Allen took the stage in the Masonic Lodge, by walking down the crowded Hall and waiting for a crew dude to pull back a curtain hung on a wire. This crude set up revealed a gothic, yet etheral stage complete with an old wurli, a grand piano, white roses and a giant angel ice sculpture with a red broken heart. A perfect marriage for the Glasgow boys’ moody and soaring songs. Though some people in the crowd wondered aloud whether or not the rest of the band would join them, James and Rab kept it acoustic-ish and intimate, only pausing to bring up pianist Paul Cantelon for a rendition of “Stabbed”.

Glasvegas In the Masonic Lodge

James, channeling both Strummer and Costello in dark Ray Ban sunglasses, repeatedly asked for the lights onstage to be brightened as he tried to make out the keys of his Wurlitzer in only the glow of a film strip showing old movie stars and a rain of glitter. I suppose the shades didn’t help this, but when faced with entertaining food for worms, I guess I might do the same. Tunes like “Geraldine” and “Daddy’s Gone” sounded better than the rocking originals – the whole show had a Leonard Cohen vibe to it. A man across the aisle from me complained that it wasn’t a full band, I wanted to yell at him “It’s called NUANCE! Adjust, motherfucker!”. Where I was expecting to be disappointed, I was actually swayed and haunted. It was fitting to hear these Scottish dirges on a gray, misty graveyard evening. Though the moisture did give one pause – my friend next to me remarked that she was nervous that the giant ice sculpture was melting onto the instruments and amps and might cause the Allans to be electrocuted. They could be killed. “Well, they’re in the right place, if it does happen.” I replied. Sometimes location can be the x factor of the evening.

ice sculpture of death

When I was invited to see a special acoustic performance with Bat For Lashes, I jumped at the chance. The Glasvegans had whet my appetite for some UK atmosphere and I couldn’t wait to see Miss Natasha in a dark and smoky club or out of doors under an old street lamp where the mist and fog could swirl around her layered synth songs.

Wait, she’s playing where? At a jeans store. On the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade. In the middle of the day. For a Neighborhood Social. Really?

Lucky Brand Neighborhood Social

As the kick off for the first Lucky Brand Neighborhood Social, Lucky lined up live silk screening by Giant Artists, denim painting by William Lemon III and provided fair food snacks for the people who stopped in. The inner sanctum of the store was reserved for a wrist banded crowd, to be treated to DJ sets by KCRW’s Jason Bentley, plus a Bat For Lashes set before their big show at the El Rey.

KCRW's Jason Bentley

Natasha Khan and her supremely talented keyboardist, Ben Christophers, took the makeshift stage which was wedged in the back of the store. People lined up and sat on jeans bins waiting for the elfin Khan to utter a sound. Khan, dressed in a gauzey pink blouse and sequined headband was instantly copied as girls in the crowd slid strings and scarves across their bangs. Ben, looking very Gold Rush/The Sting era in a long john shirt, vest and braces seemed perfect to play turn of the century xylophones, harpsichords and zithers that he whirled around like a mad scientist in a music shop. (note: see interview below for more on Natasha’s gear!)

Ben Christophers

You could hear a pin drop in between Natasha’s lilting songs, which the singer commented on, nervously. “You can talk in between songs. Be rude. It’s ok.” But the small crowd was silent and with rapt attention as if beholding the glory of a living unicorn.

Natasha Khan - Bat For Lashes

And that she is, or more closely resembling Kira from the Dark Crystal playing the keys. Her voice lilted daintily and then crecendoed into a powerful yelp, taking after her predecessor, Bjork. Natasha ended the quick half hour set with a lo-fi version of Daniel and then floated away backstage, er I mean, into the stock room.

Natasha Khan and Ali MacLean

A stock room seems hardly the place to hide away such a talent. But then again spaces and places are the name of the game today. Perhaps the thrill of the nu show is to find an oddity to jack up interest in the artist. frankly neither of these acts needed that extra push. They could’ve played in a brick walled condo in Barstow and still held as much interest.Oh dammit. I’ve just given promoters a new bad idea. Please, guys. No Barstow condo shows…

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Detroit Rocks This City – Von Bondies Shake Up The Strip

I’ve been hustling my little bunny tail all over Southern California recently. Lately, I’m in high demand to cover shows. But once you enter the realm of music journalism, the shows become work and it’s hard to detach from being the observer, rather than the music fan.

Sometimes you just want to have a blast, and the Von Bondies are always a good time. They’ve sat on my interview couch beaucoup temps and are hilarious onstage and off. (note to self: I need to pitch a show with my funny musician friends. Signing up the Bondies and Murs first!)

Jason Stollsteimer

Christy Hunt

Local lads from Bloodcat Love opened the night at The Viper Room, with their sassy Jagger swagger and set the tone for a bit of rock city, a Detroit/LA blend. Of course lead singer and founder, Jason Stollsteimer had to make the fans nervous, mentioning something about this being their last show in LA ever.

Leann Banks and Jason Stollsteimer

Was this the big Von Bye Bye? Or was Jason just aping Trent Reznor? Sure, it’s tough without the major label throwing money at you, but Stollsteimer has managed to sign with Shout Factory and with the new line up, including hot rock chicks Christy Hunt and Leann Banks, and drummer extraordinaire Don Blum, it’s like the Bondies never skipped a beat since the days of C’mon, C’mon.

Don Blum

The show was tight, choreographed and sharp, but never artificial. The Bondies always put out a perfect blend of staged showmanship and ragged rock – rough and tumble the way it’s meant to be heard. And sweaty loud. All what I was looking for in my Von Mondie.

Ali On The Air and Jason Stollsteimer

Carina Round – Backseat (Official Video)

Carina Round is my favorite female performer today. Her live show was phenomenal tonight – and every night I’ve seen it. She is about to leave my other faves like her (PJ Harvey, Auf Der Maur, etc) in the dust. Here’s one of her softer songs. Check her out!!

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Ali on the Air & Antiquiet Backstage: Nico Vega at the Roxy

Nico Vega, LA based and openers for The Von Bondies, hung out in the dressing room and answered some of my questions.

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Ali On The Air and Antiquiet Backstage: The Von Bondies At The Roxy

Backstage of the Roxy with my Bondies. The conversation went from fascinating to silly to downright awkward. But we all had make up sex afterwards. Enjoy the lunacy of me and the Von Bondies!

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ALI ON THE AIR on Antiquiet – Roxy Owner Nic Adler On Ticketmaster / Live Nation

My Antiquiet interview (in the bathroom) with Nic Adler of the Roxy. We chat about Ticketmaster, twittering and social media in the rock club world.Part Two!

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URB Magazine Exclusive – Ali On The Air and Chromeo, Yo!

On a rainy Friday, I visited with Dave of Chromeo at his hotel for a little chat. Poor P Thugg was deathly ill so we sent him to his room with hot liquids and sat down to talk about Dave’s Fancy Foot work, and of, course working with Daryl Hall of Hall and Oates.

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Slippery When Wet

Imagine a world where nothing was prohibited. We have so many rules, so many people telling us what we can and can’t do. Doesn’t it just magnetize us towards the very thing we are being kept from?

There was a time when drinking was illegal all together. It didn’t really prevent it – it just led to bathtub moonshine, speakeasies, and a lot of crime. Thanks god we are now permitted to poison ourselves if we so choose.

And in celebration of that right, that’s exactly what I did.

Downtown Los Angeles became a prohibition busting pub crawl on December 5th. Celebrating the 75th year since our country repealed the prohibition laws, bars such as The Edison, plus Cedd Moses’s 7 Grand, The Golden Gopher, The Broadway Bar and the new Coles offered 75 cent drinks. Those who didn’t feel like standing in the bread line could fill up on grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup at depression era prices.

7 Grand, a dark bar that resembles a library owned by a wealthy man with a taxidermy fetish, was home to the Dewars Repeal Party. When we arrived, several 1930′s styled gangsters marched outside with picket signs bearing slogans such as Repeal Prohibition! Tonight, their protests garnered instant results.

Upon entering, patrons were handed feather boas or fedoras to help transport them back to 1933. Pins were handed out emblazoned with the slogan ‘Stay Wet!’ As if we needed prompting. At the bar, mixologists were slinging ‘old fashioneds’ and ‘sidecars’.

model molls

Rony Alwin had his photo booth set up for patrons to knock back a whole bottle of Dewars or perhaps just primp and flirt in their flapper attire.

Rony and his photobooth

Bryan Chenault booked an evening of various entertainers, including comedian Blaine Capatch as the party’s host. Blaine, an old Mr. Show compatriot of mine, steered the evening, starting with a stand up performance by Morgan Murphy.

Morgan Murphy and Blaine Capatch

Bryan has a delicious snack

The night was also peppered with several rounds of burlesque dancers, including a rather titilating performance by Lily Von Schtupp who poured shots of whiskey from the nipples of her bustier. Talk about mother’s milk.

Mother's milk

In between acts, DJs Chris Holmes and Daisy O’Dell kept it old school on the decks with some 30′s era chart toppers. The musical act of the evening was indie band Foreign Born, whose tepid folksy rock prompted some on the patio to dub them Snorin Born. Luckily the revelrers didn’t allow that to slow them down.

Chris Holmes and Daisy O'Dell

But the true high light of the night was the whiskey that flowed freely.

DJ Dirty Dave & Ali On The Air in Rony's photobooth

The more Dewars that was poured, the more the people poured into the bar, jamming it with hipsters dressed like the swing crew from the musical Chicago. As the night wore on, the patrons began to do the drunken weave, trying to stand upright without falling over. 7 Grand was certainly slippery when wet.

TC Conroy and I held court at a table in the back room with a bunch of jaunty gentlemen, when we noticed trays of delicious mac and cheese were being brought out. Hallelujah! Kudos to Dewars and 7 Grand for dreaming up the perfect hang over special and bringing it out just in time to sober up before the ride home.

Ali On The Air & TC Conroy holding court

TC surreptitiously grabbed a plate for our table and began to spoon out some cinco de maco, when suddenly the staff opened the double doors revealing hundreds of hungry, hungry hipsters. TC’s eyes widened as a stampede of drunks ran towards her like bloodthirsty zombies. In seconds the room was packed in a cheesy orgy. I give props to T for risking her life for us and even more so for returning to our table unscathed…and with a full plate of cheesy goodness.

As the night drew to a close, I teetered towards the exit, cursing my food and drink intake for the day: two cups of coffee, a salad, about eleventy Dewars drinks and a plate of macaroni and cheese. I didn’t have to celebrate the Repeal of prohibition so hard. After all, it’s been seventy five years since it happened and I’ve been legally drinking for twenty some odd years. But what’s a girl in a feather headrdess and faux fur stole to do? I am only one woman and cannot fight the tide of change…or an open bar. My only option? To stay wet.