I have a full report on my favorite finds of the festival but the only interview I granted during the whole week is a band I’ve been talking about for a year now…yes the ONLY interview I agreed to do. Band Of Skulls.

These guys knocked me off my stiletto boots in the cramped sweaty back room of Three Of Clubs last summer. And I’ve made sure not to miss their LA performances ever since whether it be at Jimmy Kimmel or the Hammer museum. Their LP release Baby Darling Dollface Honey, doesn’t have a bad song on it and is chock full of dirty sexy soulful riffs -  the way the guitar was intended to be played .

Now boasting a spot on the Twilight: New Moon soundtrack, a Lollapalooza performance, an upcoming Coachella slot and a currently touring with BRMC, it seems that Band Of Skulls is catching on across the nation. Normally that would annoy an uber fan. I’d complain that I saw them first and their popularity means that they no longer hold that special something. But it isn’t so. I’m super excited for the world to discover this bluesy ballsy band.

It’s time to stop giving our attention to the pussy auto tuned acts and start turning our attention to the deserved few who are letting it bleed. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you BAND OF SKULLS:

If it’s true that ‘Anyone Can Play Guitar’ then it’s even more true that anyone can DJ, especially when you can download Serato for free…but forget beat matching. That rarely even enters into the equation anymore. In today’s club scene a dilettante can get paid four or five thousand dollars and show up with their i pod just because they fucked someone famous and the promoter thinks thats cool and bitchin and shit.

OK, the novelty of seeing the cast of Gossip Girl fumble around with a mixer might be an initial draw but then what? I’ll tell you what. If it’s a nightclub with a dance floor, the real DJ has to come in and save their ass and make sure there’s actual music playing.

Now, not all venues have to have banging house tunes. Many bars and clubs these days want a lo fi, bring-your-own-stuff-to-spin atmosphere, and that’s cool. But the difference is: no one is being paid obnoxious amounts of money for something they downloaded off itunes a few hours before.

I’ve been hired to spin at certain clubs around Los Angeles, mainly because I know music. I’ve been asked to spin records (yes, I use vinyl) in between bands performing at venues…and even though I have been on air at a few different radio stations, I don’t really consider myself a working DJ. On air personality? Yes. A DJ? Not really.

Do I love to search for records? Sure. I like to go to Counterpoint and flea markets. I’ll drag boyfriends and family members to vintage shops and dusty record bins while on vacation until they beg me to stop. However, I don’t make special crate digging trips to Japan or Israel or Brazil like Pete Rock or Cut Chemist do, for the SOLE PURPOSE of collecting rare records. That is LOVE of the craft. That is why those guys should be hired to do the job.

Pete Rock crate digging for vinyl gold

And then some dick promoter is going to pay Peaches Geldof a shit ton of money to “DJ” their party?

When I see the amount of hard work someone like DJ Z Trip or Rhettmatic has put into their careers, only to see some trust fund kid with a chip on his shoulder and a personal paparazzo by his side, breeze by and get flown all over the world for 5 and 6 figure gigs…when I’ve seen that same trust fund fucker literally plug his i pod in at a venue and then walk away from the DJ booth to pose for pictures and pound drinks…it infuriates me for the hard working DJs out there.

Z Trip's first love

I’m not saying that not every celebrity sucks at DJing. Carlos D from Interpol has been DJing for years and only uses vinyl. It seems to me he has a real love for it and puts a lot of time and energy into it. Therein lies the difference. Are you in it because you love it? Or are you doing it for the photo op? Cause most of us can tell, you know.

Club owners: Stop paying good money for shitty product. You want the cast of Twilight to DJ your party? Fine. Don’t pay them. They’re not DJs. Give them a bottle of Grey Goose and set them up in a booth in the corner. You can take a photo of them standing near the DJ booth for the starfucker page on your website and leave the DJing to someone with chops.

Festival bookers: Really? Six figures for a DJ who’s crap?  We’re not that high. Stop it.

Last fall, after another night where Z Trip had to follow another “DJ” train wreck, he took to twitter and ranted which I have to admit, I egged on and on. Our tweets ultimately gave me the idea for this film…this is part one of an ongoing series of DJ INTERVENTION.

If you like it, pass it on to all of your friends who may need some help. We know you’re out there and we want you to get the help you deserve…

Or you can vote for it here on Funny Or Die:

Part Two to come soon!!

It has reshaped the way we think of television – they even had to create a new Emmy category for it, because you know we can’t over look the real contribution a show like Amazing Race has made to our society.

There is some reality TV that is redeemable…but other than a few shows here or there…The Dog Whisperer, the Loud’s on An American Family…I find most of reality television repulsive.

Aside from the more obvious reasons, one is that I work in television, and I’ve seen a lot of my friends, very talented writers and actors, lose work because their shows have been replaced by mindless crap.

Now, not all TV shows that were on the air prior to the reality boom were prize winners. I’ll admit there was some real trash and real boring banal crap. But it seems that the networks today are in a race to create the worst show ever. It’s the ‘Springtime for Hitler’ contest come to life.

VH1 is a prime example. Once upon a time, VH1 was a network that I worked for. They aired music programming, an occasional comedy variety show or game show, and the hit documentary series Behind the Music. Now VH1 is in a contest with itself to give America a cold sore.

If I have to read about another rock bus show laden with desperate skunk haired Jerry Springer rejects, vying for five seconds of herpes fame… It’s vomity and dangerous. Let’s not forget how VH1‘ s vetting process, or lack thereof, turned deadly last year when a Megan Wants A Millionaire dating contestant murdered a woman (who turned out to be his previous wife) and threw her in a dumpster. Oops.

Yeah, I’m a bit of a snob. I came up through the ranks with some amazingly talented improv actors and comedians who would challenge me daily to be a better writer, performer, filmmaker…a better person. Even if our material was sometimes raunchy, our work ethic skewed more Wes Anderson than WWF.

So each time I see a girl from the Hills on the red carpet, I feel bad for an actress I know who is still struggling. Every time I see a commercial for Wife Swap, I think of my award winning writer friend who still temps.  When I see Snooki doing panel on a talk show, it’s like a paper cut to SAG, WGA and oh, every other creative union I can think of.

So, every time someone says to me,

“Don’t you just love Jersey Shore?”

I say:

“Fuck you, no I don’t. ”

And I immediately get an argument…like I stepped all over Schindlers List or some great work of art.

Come On People.

What has become of you? Have you been eating Craisins so long that you can’t differentiate between a TV show and a turd?

Here are the 5 most given arguments:

“But, it’s fun!”

No, it’s not. I wouldn’t ever go to the Jersey Shore. Not even to be ironic. And you probably wouldn’t either. And don’t front like this is some wonderful Nat Geo glimpse into a world you knew nothing about. You never WANTED to know about this world. On purpose. It’s Jersey.

“But they’re sooooo dumb/lame/ridiculous!”

Yeah. A lot of people I come across are dumb. I try to move away from those people as quickly as possible, not spend a half hour of my time with them. I want to spend time around people who are inspiring – who are smarter than me…not people who make me question procreation.

They’re not even an entertaining stupid, like Laurel and Hardy or Three Stooges stupid. To me it’s just your average run of the mill, plebeian, local yokel stupid. Why do I want to give that my attention? Why do we, as a society, want to reward that? I don’t go to monster truck rallies. Why do I want to J Wow?

“Well, Ali, it’s popular anyways, you might as well give into it.”

Um, yeah. Like swine flu? That’s a really great idea for enjoying something. Everyone else has hopped on the stupid train, so I should too. That will make me run even farther away from it. To me that argument has just made Jersey Shore the teabagging of television.

“You need to lighten up.”

Totally true. In fact it’s my New Year’s resolution. But I’m sure as fuck not going to do it watching a bunch of sorry assed wasted people that have nothing to add to my life.

They don’t make me laugh. They don’t make me think. They don’t really do anything except…what? Advertise Ed Hardy, laziness, and date rape? If I want to lighten up, I will choose something like Craig Ferguson whom I’ve discovered recently, I really like. Or 30 Rock, which makes me laugh consistently…or The Green Room, a new show on Showtime, which I think is going to turn the talk show genre on it’s ear.

“There’s nothing else on television.”

This, sadly, might be true. I’m not even sure what Jersey Shore goes up against in it’s given time slot. But I am aware that there are upwards of 700 digital channels and there is a strong possibility that there is nothing of note on. I can give some other suggestions aside the ones above: older episodes of Extras and The Tudors are great. House is a good show. The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are both some of the best television being made right now. 24 is like a new action movie every week, if you like that type of thing…not your cup of tea? Try this…turn off the TV. Go see some live music. Go to your local theater and see a stand up or some improv or a play. Can’t afford it? Talk to your family. Don’t have a family? Try reading a book.

You see if you keep watching crap, they will keep making it. And writing Us Weekly articles about it. And feeding you super size portions of it. And then Perez Hilton gets richer and music gets worse and The Rock makes a sequel to The Tooth Fairy and our legit theaters close and then they stop teaching art in schools because, really, what’s the point?

So, no, I don’t give a crap about the Jersey Shore. And neither should you.

I got email after email from publications asking me for my ‘best of the year’ picks and ‘best of the decade’ choices. And then there was an onslaught online, on TV, on the radio, and in print…what’s left of print, that is.

‘Best of the…’ ‘Top Ten’, ‘Top Twenty’, ‘Top Fifty’… the ‘Top of the year’, the ‘Top of the Decade’…ad nauseum.

The year wasn’t even over and we were already rating the songs and films that have been created, comparing apples to oranges. Then it got weirder. Best tweets. Best viral videos. Best broken marriages. Best reality show melt downs. Best political failures. Best new babies born. Best real housewives you’ve never heard of.

If it happened on a grand scale, we can slap a number on it like a pig at the county fair and smugly call ourselves an expert…because that’s what a lot of us journalists, comedians, writers and bloggers are paid to do, right?

But then, suddenly, there were best of lists written by EVERYONE.  I’m glad to know that people all over are enjoying Miike Snow or Radiohead, but when butchers and bakers and candle stick makers are publishing their Best of 2009 lists, it kind of dilutes the magical lists of whatever the fuck Pitchfork or Spin puts out there. If Paste Magazine posts their fifth favorite movie is Amelie and then 20,000 other people tweet the same thing within five minutes, then does precious Paste even make a dent? No wonder magazines are dying.

And then there’s the question that I’ve been aching to ask. Who cares? Your close friends might. If you are a top critic, a few fellow editors might. If you mention something obscure you might earn some “oh yeah, I totally forgot that one!’ points.  If you can write something interesting about your favorites, then you are a gifted writer or comedian and your talents really should be used elsewhere…like on television. Seriously, TV really needs some better writers.

So what’s with all the list making? Must we constantly analyze our past pop culture? Can’t we just box it up and send it into space for other species or our descendants to discover? Can’t we move forward and create the new? The next?

Everyone is entitled to blog, tweet and have an opinion and social media has given everyone a voice. That is the wave of the future. So perhaps it means the death rattle of the ever present Best or Top lists. I mean, hasn’t VH1 beat the living  ‘I Love The’ hell out of it? I was actually assigned a best of list…and then eventually declined to do it. I removed myself from the rabble and decided to once again, look towards the future.

Strangely enough, a few days later, I was contacted out of the blue by Barb Powell, psychic to the stars. Barb doesn’t know me at all, but found my blog and asked if perhaps there wasn’t something we could work on together…like she he had read my mind or something.

Barb Powell is a psychic from Western Canada, who started with a small local client base but is now popular in Los Angeles, and has worked with the cast of shows such as The Ghost Whisperer, Haunting in Connecticut, Brothers and Sisters and The Mentalist…can she predict that Simon Baker and I are meant for each other?

Barb works in a very specific way – she doesn’t need a client to ask a lot of questions, because she gives answers to questions you haven’t even asked. Barb offered to do a mini reading on me and without knowing a thing about me personally, nailed a specific health issue I had been dealing with. Color me impressed.

Before I could ask her questions about the future of music, movies and media,  she already knew what I was looking for. And then some.

Here’s a little bit of what you can expect for 2010:

Good news for people who like their music free…The big labels will continue to get it wrong and eventually cause a big crash!

I think they will get it wrong by pouring money into stopping piracy and legal matters instead of focusing where they should perhaps use subscription type of music channels, etc in order to download.  I think in the next year to two years we will see a crash and they will then HAVE to re-organize.  However I believe that someone will come in and build up independent artists who are good of course but where there is a new way of doing things by subscribing to a site and downloading whatever, whenever they want.  This would be outside the actual music industry or RIAA and how they do things.  In another word..music will be free.

Who will this Indie Robin Hood be? That is unclear. But so far the job is available, so Silverlakers and Williamsburgers apply within!

As far as the Indie film world, Barb sees strides for filmmakers who’s pockets aren’t lined with Avatar type dollars.

We will see an increase with independent films, for sure, what with some of the most popular and cheaper films that have become a success.

Good news for the new legion of Wes Anderson types out there who want to launch their own Bottle Rocket. But they will still have to battle Big Hollywood. However with 2010 studio offerings like Hot Tub Time Machine, it might not be hard for up and comers to win at the box office and beat the majors.

Sigh. Hot Tub Time Machine. Really John Cusack? Next time you’re thinking of doing a movie like this, let me know. I’ll come stand outside your window with a boom box playing a list of reasons of why you will soon be Rob Schneider if you don’t stop this nonsense.

On the topic of music mediocrity, Barb reports:

We will see some upset for the Nickelback lead singer…the band does well but we will see a fall out later part of 2010 due to addictions….but will bounce back in 2011 for an awesome comeback record.

I will wait with baited breath for more from them…people are ready to listen to more pop songs sung by the weird art school girl, whose gender was the biggest mystery of 2009. And her hate spewing internet Svengali will get a reality show – perhaps his crowning glory?

Lots of great things for Lady Gaga career in 2010 including a TV special. Perez Hilton (famed blogger) will have his own reality show although health will become an issue.

Poor Perez. I’m sure many will come to his bedside to wish him well. After GLAAD came down hard on Perez (himself gay) in ’09 for his anti-gay slurs and his trash talk, perhaps he’ll change his ways?

I’m not holding my breath. I wonder what Perez will draw on Miley’s face when it’s reported she is with child?

More news for the Miley Cyrus fans and watchers.  There will be pregnancy rumors once again and they will turn out to be true in 2010.

Another blight on the small screen will be more Sarah Palin. Not sure this is a prediction as much as most of America unable to stop her PR steamroller, but nonetheless it’s apparently about to happen, times eleventy. Just a warning in case you want to cancel your cable subscription in advance.

We will see more of Sarah Palin on TV in late 2010 early 2011…talk show.

Sarah Palin talk show. I just threw up in my mouth. What will her show’s ‘book club’ feature, aside from her own book? Pop ups?

Barb has predicted a lot of celebrity deaths, both expected and scarily unexpected. I’ve chosen not to list them all, but one, I thought I could safely mention without any tears being shed…

This isn’t a Hollywood prediction but interesting just the same…Charles Manson will die.

Maybe this will clear the way for Roman Polanski to return to the US? And perhaps maybe many of the grizzly man indie guitarists of LA will stop emulating his long bearded look and his quest for a harem? It didn’t work out well for Charlie, guys…

Two major highlights Barb has predicted for 2010 in the media, one uplifting, one disconcerting.

Major media involving China/Japan but more so China in regards to war.

War with China is scary…and 24 hour news coverage by cable news outlets is outright terrifying. Hopefully both diplomacy and real journalism will prevail.

Singers/Actors unite for the environment to promote saving the ocean and rain forest.

If we ever needed a new Geldof (Bob, not Peaches.) to step up and create a new World Aid, the time is now.

French/American company The Hours recently started the Tck Tck Tck campagin to save the environment and there are many others.

Now is the time to unite in this cause. I, for one, would be proud to be a part of this.

Barb has made many other predictions about celebrity career triumphs and failures and marriages and divorces. Seems like it’s going to be a chock filled year. She’s even said I’m going to go against type and get cast in a serious acting role:

There will be an ongoing role in a series that reminds me of CSI or Law & Order type of show where it seems you play a detective or bad ass type of woman who gets the bad bad people.

I’m so looking forward to kicking some bad, bad ass!

So what’s your biggest prediction for 2010?

Follow both Barb and me on Twitter at @aliontheair and @mediumBarbP  and tweet us your top 2010 prediction with the hashtags #aliontheair #barbpowell.

My favorite answer will win a free reading with Barb!

Until then, have a great and list free New Year!

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

photo credit: Al Seib

There are four men in particular who are probably at this moment, dabbing their eyes with black lacy g-strings. These are the stalwart citizens who immortalized the establishment in their song, Girls, Girls, Girls. In a way, Motley Crue are both artists and patrons of the arts. For their tribute to dancing girls undoubtedly raised the profile of the oft scorned art of totally nude strip dancing.

The Body Shop has graced the Sunset Strip since the 40s where it once was a burlesque club. Luckily, it was transformed into an all nude dancing theater just in time for the hair metal stampede down the Sunset Strip. It even paid the rent of many budding, hungry ‘actresses’, Courtney Love being one. I never had the pleasure of frequenting this particular establishment. When I was researching the art of stripping for a play I had written, my cast mates and I kept to Crazy Girls and Cheetahs, which was titilating enough to mess with our heads in a method acting sorta way. So, I can’t properly relate to the loss of this mecca of culture, but I realize the pain is deep.

Theater of the absurd

There is no exact word on how the fire started, though my money is on someone ‘smokin in the boys room’ (sorry, had to). There are plans to rebuild the Shop, but it will remain shuttered until those renovations are done. Where, o where, will these generous men go to appreciate bodies in motion? Where will they find long legs, burgundy lips, red lips and fingertips? How will they keep fledgling models ‘over-employed’? Where can these doctors go to feel good?

model/actress/nameless

These patrons need to look no further than the dulcet tones of Vince Neil’s humble suggestions. How about a trip to sunny Florida? The Dollhouse in Fort Lauderdale could cure your blues. If humidity isn’t your bag, Hotlanta has Tattletails AND a Waffle House. Two treats in one! If you’re up for a ski lift, Vancouver’s Marble Arc will fill your need for tats and ass. Gay Paree seems like nothing of the sort, if you take in the double ‘D’s at the Crazy Horse. Or in French, Le Cheval Fou.

benjamins and booty

Of course Los Angeles is a veritable cornucopia of sin dens. There’s Jumbo’s Clown Room. That is the premiere place to watch greasy hipsters watch a broken anorexic sadly strip to Radiohead’s Karma Police. Cheetahs is more of the rockabilly girls scarred with cigarette burns, vibe. And the Crazy Girls are all about the benjamins waiting to lap dance a benefactor. I’m sure if Vince and Tommy are in town you can still find them raising ‘hail’ (hell) at the Seventh Vail.

Too fast for love

I know, I know…they’re just not the same as the infamous Body Shop. Again, my heart leaps out of my 34 C chest for all of these philandering philanthropists. These are tough times. They are times of change. They are times of joining hands and helping your fellow man.

I suggest that all ladies out there be kind to their fellow man. In fact, you can help your favorite fellow man, just by doing a strip tease in the comfort of your own home. Think of it as a form of physical therapy to get him through the night…and the many nights to come, without the Body Shop.

get out of my bad dreams, get into my car

What I didn’t expect was for his new book, True Norwegian Black Metal, and his Vice VBS TV documentary for of the same name, would be a window on one of the strangest stories in music.

My friend T.C. and I met Jennifer (of L7 fame) and her boyfriend Chris, at the hoity toity restaurant Jar, for drinks beforehand. Sitting at the posh bar amongst a friendly Aussie and a very charming James McAvoy, lulled me into a false sense of Hollywoodland, and made me ill prepared for the metal fairy tale that was about to unfold…

Peter’s Los Angeles exhibit opening was down the block at Zune. Upon entering, it was clear that the walls of photos brought a crowd of black wearing men and women who only come out at night. To rock.

Joan of Ass

Jennifer, T.C. and Chris at the exhibit

The photographs were strange and beautiful, and at times funny or disturbing. The colors and composition made even the most outlandishly dressed gallery attendees fade into the background like wall flowers. Peter was a clear eyed, affable guy, whom you would never think had held the key to the Metal castle, but he did. And he followed the story of Gorgoroth…

photographer Peter Beste

Once upon a time, there was a phenomenon called Gorgoroth. No, not the dead plateau of evil and Darkness in the land of Mordor from Lord of The Rings…the Norwegian black metal band Gorgoroth. They are much more scary than the Tolkien version of Gorgoroth. Sorta.

Gorgoroth was known for it’s members, King ov Hell, Infernus, Tormentor and Gaahl, amongst a revolving cast of shredders. Gorgoroth’s members weren’t strangers to controversy. They had played a show in Krakow, Poland, once the scene of the horrific Holocaust, and displayed sheep heads on stakes, a bloodbath of 80 liters of sheep’s blood, satanic symbols, and four naked crucified models on stage. Awww, cute!

from Peter Beste's exhibit

Other noteworthy incidents included Infernus’s incarceration for assault and rape, and Gaahl’s jail time for torturing a man, apparently focusing his brutality on the man’s testicles. This pretty much ruled out their being booked for parties and Bar Mitzvahs.

from Peter Best's exhibit

Amidst these ‘Behind The Music’ type skids, the band kept up the good fight. For there was a war going on…a war between the Norwegian Black Metal scene and the Swedish Death Metal scene. The Norwegian scene was known for certain members who committed murder, burned down medieval wooden churches, and desecrated graveyards. Despite the Swedish Death metal scene’s attempts to thwart their actions or overshadow it with their raucous, deadly caucophany, the Norwegians held their ground.

Unfortunately, Gorgoroth’s involvement in this Hatfield vs McCoy type battle was cut short when the band split in 2007. This brought another war on, between band mates for use of the name and the trademark. The litigation war still wages on today.

Peter managed to infiltrate this secretive sect of musicians and they eventually allowed him to photograph them and document them for a five part series. Seeing these Norse gods of metal traipse through lush Narnian fields and woods was brilliant – black leather and spikes weighing them down as they climbed steep embankments.

from Peter Beste's exhibit

While the field trips were a bit comical, Peter’s interview with Gaahl became downright eerie in the end. When Gaahl was unhappy with Peter’s line of questioning, he went into a icy rigid state, sitting dead still and staring straight ahead without blinking. While watching this video at the gallery, I thought the video tape had frozen…but the flickering candle in the background proved that this was one freaky dude – he’d make Charlie Manson sleep with a night light on.

Gaahl

As an interviewer myself, I was captivated by this scene. I’ve had my fair share of rock star enfant terribles and one or two who have stepped over the line, into my lap and tried to lick me (or other dog like behavior). However, this was way beyond an inappropriate sexual advance. How did Beste stay seated during this? How did he not run screaming from the room? Any moment the walls could have started bleeding and the windows blown in in some Shining/Amityville styled nightmare. It made me almost swoon in appreciation for Beste’s courage. This video was truly chilling in an Ed Gein, Dahmer sense, which party made me want to know exactly what he did to that man he tortured back in 2002…but then again I’m a twisted soul who keeps a copy of The Stranger Beside Me on my bedside table.

However, the myth of Gaahl unravels a bit here. Though he may be an unstable, psychopath satanist with a cult following, Gaahl’s recent revelations of his personal life betray his monster mask. It was noted in an interview, that Gaahl has been involved with Norwegian modeling agent Dan De Vero since he was eighteen. But not only did Gaahl use his death scythe to hack his way out of the closet, but then revealed that he and De Vero were designing a women’s clothing line called “Wynjo”. Yes, pretty dresses for summer

Oh, and the magazine where Gaahl affirmed his homosexuality? The November 2008 issue of…Rock Hard.

Yeah, Rock Hard. I am not making this shit up. It kinda turns the Tolkienesque bloody tale into a Spinal Crap farce.

True, the music that Beste’s subject matters play would make Marilyn Manson look like Bozo the Clown, but it comforts me somewhat to know that even the most violent men in Norway are still concerned about whether or not hemlines are going up and the difference between a pump and a stiletto.

Ali and TC - metal babe fashionistas

However unintentionally hilarious in parts, the long, strange trip of this heavy metal clan is a fascinating subject. Beste, bless his heart, has captured it stunningly.

Peter Beste’s True Norwegian Black Metal exhibit runs Nov. 21 – December 18 2008 at Zune LA, 8275 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles, or visit http://www.peterbeste.com.