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Huh? So it sux to take a G because Republicans are doing it? Who cares man? Saying it you will take the G is like saying "that restaurant stucks.. Let's go eat there."

I say that restaurant sucks but i’ll go there anyway all the time. I would rather get universal healthcare than the G. I would rather not take the G unless I knew what they were cutting to give it to me? Defense spending, doubt it, corporate tax abatements, doubt it, if they are going to gut programs that matter and keep buying aircraft carriers, then yea I don’t want to take a G from Republicans or anyone.

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Best film ever made.

Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)

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Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)

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Suburban Decay: Best of 2019

Jenny Holzer, Street Posters 1978-1983

From our humble home of D.C., we celebrate a beautiful, ample year of culture, though not without significant losses. Beloved venues and community gathering spaces closed, as rising rents pushed the truly unique to the margins, a drain increased by the regular churn of departures. And yet, destructive consolidation did not stop a wealth of great work. May 2020 be equally blessed. In no particular order:

Blacks’ Myths II

Albums/EPs

Geo Rip - TTT Mixtape

Christopher Tignor - A Light Below

Young Thug - So Much Fun

Blacks’ Myths - II

Sleepy G - Yes Mix

Bill Converse - Hallways

Jefre Cantu-Ledesma - Tracing Back the Radiance

Joy O - Slipping

Kankyo Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980-1990

Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - Watchmen

Future Times - FIGS

Hotel Neon - Vanishing Forms

K. Leimer - Irrational Overcast

Gunna in “Hot”

Tracks

Young Thug - Hot (ft. Gunna)

Off the Meds - Belter (Joy O Belly Remix)

Geo Rip - Tryin’

Baronhawk Poitier - Phickle Pickle

AceMoMA - Lucky Number 12

Black Taffy - Lantern Flies in Mist

Megan Thee Stallion - Big Ole Freak

Davis Galvin - Bass Biology Interface

AceMo - Myrtle Ave Party Track

Blacks’ Myths - Mammy’s Revenge

Martyn x Dolo Percussion - Misfit City Rolling

Ali Berger - Blow Remix

D.F. - Going Into Trance

Christopher Tignor - What You Must Make of Me

Future - Jumpin on a Jet

Max D - Shout Out Seefeel

Doubler - Urban Heat Island

On the Run - May 7, 10:35 P.M.

Anne Müller - Drifting Circles

Iron Age @ St Vitus, Brooklyn

Shows

Sebastian Mullaert @ Normandie

Iron Age @ St Vitus

Dreamcast, Model Home, Babby @ Rock n Roll Hotel

5ive, Powder, Sleepy G @ Aftermarket

This Will Destroy You, Christopher Tignor @ The Miracle Theater

Ghostly XX: Gold Panda, Shigeto, Mary Lattimore @ Regent Theater

Mdou Moctar, Horse Lords @ Union Stage

Geo Rip, Chaperone, Sofia Lakis @ Studio Ga Ga

Ladytron, Lou Rebecca @ Brooklyn Steel

Sleepy G b2b DJ Freez @ Mood Ring

Blacks Myths, Sunwatchers, Anteloper @ Comet Ping Pong

Watchmen, “This Extraordinary Being”

Film and Television

The Lighthouse

Mister America

Midsommar

Barry Season 2

Country Music

The Boys

Watchmen

I Think You Should Leave

Legion Season 3

Hot Streets

On Cinema at the Cinema Season 11

Us

The Irishman

The Righteous Gemstones

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A Farewell to Leather: the Death of Deadspin

Deadspin, the much beloved/maligned/emulated “sports” weblog, died last week after cascading resignations from editors and contributors. Barry Petchesky christened the mass exodus, fired for rebuking a quickly-leaked memo from Paul Maidment, editorial director of G/O Media, Deadspin’s parent company. Therein, Maidment ordered his employees to “stick to sports,” that is, Deadspin must soley publish articles about sports “and that which is relevant to sports in some way.” Not coincidentally, “stick to sports” stood as a Deadspin topic of choice since it came into full bloom in the 2012 election. Petchesky’s exit followed former Editor in Chief Megan Greenwell, who quit after G/O refused to guarantee the site’s editorial independence, violations of the employees’ bargained-for labor agreement. Today, we mourn the loss of one of the true original outlets, and celebrate all those who question the answers.

The editorial board of Suburban Decay learned about Deadspin in 2005, setting us on our current path. At the time, we were young and gainfully employed, but not too gainfully. Only following sports for a few years prior, our media intake skewed to the middle: ESPN’s Page 2, Sports Illustrated, and the other minimal bits of editorial content available online. Deadspin loathed the middle and hit like lightning. Their motto, “Without Access, Favor, or Discretion” says it all. Cued by their parent site and spiritual leader Gawker, founding voice Will Leitch loved sports, but also loved the lurid details bigger outlets omitted. The writers refused to disappear into the text, making explicit their teams of choice, biases, and opinions. Because, of course, that ends up influencing the editorial product anyway, and you might as well spell it out. The staff and contributors made themselves freely available, and Leitch both sent supportive replies to Suburban Decay, and linked to our first forays into sportsblogging. The early days of Deadspin approached sports as a fan. A tipsy, skeptical fan, who loved to argue and mock people in power.

What did Suburban Decay learn from Deadspin? First, that ESPN has serious conflicts of interest which irreparably warped the network’s ability to cogently cover sports. In every situation, the staff enjoyed the opportunity to make a nuisance. Leitch felt no hesitation posting gossip submitted by tipsters detailing various misbehavior by athletes, frequently under the influence. Their greatest early submission provides the title of this post, where ESPN alpha Chris Berman wooed a woman wearing a stylish jacket into his company by stating, simply, “You’re with me, leather.” Berman reacted very poorly. The site did actual journalism, but the ethos that drove them to publish that apocryphal story also motivated the more significant work: question the answers. Authority figures don’t deserve your unthinking fealty. Mindlessly regurgitating what money and power would like you to believe only benefits them. We can’t expect a company to willingly offer up facts that might interfere with their ability to sell a product. ESPN gained access and favor in exchange for their discretion, meaning they could not be trusted to make their journalism independent of their very expensive live broadcasts of sports.

This generalized skepticism pushed to new levels of aggression with the exit of Leitch and elevation of AJ Daulerio. As Editor in Chief, his most infamous scoop came from then-New York Jets employee Jenn Sterger, who alleged a pattern of sexual harassment by Hall of Fame quarterback Brett Favre. Daulerio decided to publish before Sterger consented, and included a purported photo of Favre’s withered and unsolicited penis. The quarterback was later fined by the NFL for “failure to cooperate.” The stunning story demonstrated the complex, messy results of the full execution of Deadspin’s ethos. It touched many of the uglier features of sports: toxic masculinity, stupidity, corruption, and the incentive to sweep ugly realities under the rug. ESPN would never take the lead on this narrative, only carry completed work. Daulerio identified a newsworthy situation that gave a fuller picture of an athlete looking for enablers. Unfortunately, he released the report without Sterger’s okay. The ability of sources to control what’s on the record is sacrosanct, and Jenn’s life since, hearing awful questions from drunk strangers, exemplifies what she wanted to avoid, not Daulerio’s choice to make. AJ rose to EIC of Gawker, only to zealously pursue a gonzo story about a Hulk Hogan sex tape, wherein vampiric billionaire Peter Thiel enacted revenge against Gawker founder Nick Denton by burying his flagship with a successful lawsuit in Florida. Negotiated down from $160 to $31 million, the resulting settlement permanently submarined Gawker, and made its sister publications vulnerable for acquisition.

Deadspin stood caught in this mire, first acquired and sold by a flailing Univision, then sold to Great Hill Partners, venture capital ghouls who eagerly initiated the power struggle that led to last week’s sad collapse. Losing it only emphasizes how many great people and stories lived on this site. Drew Magary, a founding-generation commenter became the signature Deadspin columnist, famous for his explosive rants but equally capable of introspection and self deprecation. Hamilton Nolan wrote movingly about labor, detailing all the ways capital is used against us, and urging workers everywhere to organize. Diana Moskovitz explored domestic violence, how institutions protect abusers and re-victimize the abused. Dave McKenna drove widely-hated NFL team owner Dan Snyder insane. And those are just a few of the many significant, newsworthy Deadspin threads. They also had a lot of fun with non-newsworthy ones. The site never forgot the simple pleasures of bears, using open records requests to look at a baseball player’s water bill, or watching adult men fuck cars. Deadspin appreciated both significance and insignificance. And by all accounts, it remained profitable and popular until the end. Everyone loses for its death, including Great Hill Partners, as Deadspin will struggle to sell ads with no creative team and a permanently alienated readership.

In this new world, Suburban Decay reflected on the status quo, where many of the obsessions of Deadspin and Gawker dominate life on earth. A cruel billionaire class sees us as gristle for the mill, and the law sides with them. ESPN’s muddy ethics only get muddier, as CEO Jimmy Pitaro commanded his employees to stick to sports, lest reporting sour a sale or annoy someone powerful. The NBA twisted itself into a pretzel trying to be the woke league that partners with a totalitarian regime. Our awful clown President might get booed at the wrong stadium, but owners of professional teams either directly support him, or his massive tax breaks. We need Deadspin. But for everyone who wrote for the site, and all those lucky enough to read it: question the answers. Don’t accept what they feed you. All writing is political, pretending otherwise is a luxury reserved for people in power. Deadspin started as a site, but it became a philosophy. In his farewell post, Drew Magary said it best:

Today, it lives on with you. Once you get a taste for sports news without access, favor, or (nor?) discretion, it doesn’t go away. That is how this will work. That is how you and I will keep the joy afloat. You are told every day that the internet is a shitty place, and you are given, in a steady stream, ample and mounting evidence that proves it. But there’s a reason people stay online. I came here to eke a career out of yelling about things sucking, but I also came here to make a friend or two. And I did. 

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A mix of freaky jams, weird drums, and spaced out vibes to keep you warm.

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Andrew Nosnitsky Speaks, We Listen

Suburban Decay found inspiration in Andrew Nosnitsky of Tumblin Erb and Cocaine Blunts. Published everywhere, deeply knowledgable, and always a little cranky, he’s dedicated his life to music, writing prolifically and now running the wonderful Park Blvd Records and Tapes in Oakland, California. Andrew gives an expansive one hour interview with Couch Media, covering his childhood, how he started writing, and his concerns about the state of music. This conversation contains a lot of hard truths about corporate consolidation and streaming: good for a very few, bad for most, deadly for marginal art looking for an audience. But, what, do you come here looking for entertainment? I hope not.

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None More Metal than Mandy

Heavy metal, the idea, genre, and magazine, occupies a strange corner of culture. Like horror and science fiction, two areas with shared aesthetics, it inspires polar reactions, clearing a room or sending people towards the source. Elements travel elsewhere, but it has become thoroughly niche, and the only stadium-scale acts are bands with a long legacy. Even loyalists freely acknowledge its idiocy and excess. Dethklok Metalocalypse had endless fun lovingly mocking its rock-brained fans, rigid rules, and stifling nihilism. But at the right moment and with the right execution, metal can provide gorgeous, overwhelming intensity - art that mines death and the unknown to pummeling effect. No movie better encompasses this possibility than Mandy.

Mandy is simultaneously simple and complicated. It’s a straightforward story of madness and revenge, but includes ample details teasing at a broader mythology and philosophy. Circa 1983, Mandy Bloom and logger Red Miller live deep in the Shadow Mountains, where she makes gorgeous fantasy art while minding a store. Their intimacy is rooted in their damage: his alcoholism, and her abusive childhood. Mandy feels something evil approaching, and her dreams throb with bad omens. The bad news arrives when Jeremiah Sand and his followers, the Children of the New Dawn, see Mandy strolling through the forest. Jeremiah, patterned after Charles Manson, assembled a cadre of brainwashed followers after his music career fell flat, blaming the rejection on unseen forces and perpetually seeking revenge. Using nightmarish acid-casualty bikers the Black Skulls as his shock troops, Sand subdues Red and drugs Mandy, intending to make her his holy consort. But through her LSD haze, she rejects him, so Jeremiah burns her to death in front of Red, leaving him alive as they escape. This sets Red on a quest for revenge, where he embraces the madness of his tormentors, nearly erasing his humanity, holding on to memories of his lost love.

Director Panos Cosmatos is the child of George P. Cosmatos, director of Rambo, Cobra, and Tombstone, and Swedish sculptor Brigitta Ljungberg-Costmatos. The apple fell very close to the tree. His father’s films provide rock-solid entertainment, structured like pop songs. His mother’s work skews much more esoteric, ghoulish rows of death masks, and surrealist corpses carved into wood. Mandy embraces both approaches, using simple characters, telling an archetypal story, while including surrealist aesthetics with shocking immediacy. The Black Skulls are an excellent example of this strategy. They exist to separate Red from Mandy, and their backstory is brief. But Cosmatos washes every second of their screen time in pure terror. The Black Skulls go beyond violent, they crave human flesh. Their look far exceeds intimidating, landing near Cenobites on wheels, capable of taking inhuman punishment. These choices allow a simple quest for revenge to become a deeply artistic exercise. Johann Johannsson, the late and great composer, created a gorgeous and mournful doom metal score, as intense and evil as this film, yet fully aware of the tender intimacy that inspires such a violent response. As crazy as things become, the plot stays rooted in the love between Red and Mandy. It’s a pop song played through the most metal of stereos.

No reflection on Mandy would be complete without discussing its star, Nicolas Cage. Cage’s career has careened between big-budget bubblegum like National Treasure, and counterculture classics like Wild at Heart. Like many actors, Cage is equally famous for his idiosyncrasies and bizarre behavior. But the actor will always have devotees because of his willingness to commit fully to the moment. With the camera rolling, he can provide absolute sincerity no matter how ridiculous the setup: Kiss of the Vampire, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, and The Rock, all drastically different films, showcase a performer completely willing to take any situation as reality. This Nicolas Cage performs in Mandy. Before the tragic event, he plays Red as a tamed bear, haunted by a dark past, but comforted by his tender isolation with Mandy. Once he’s lost everything, Red becomes revenge: every second Cage spends on screen seethes with his need for retribution. This drastic change feels believable because his loss happens in such a visceral and upsetting way. And while his performance dominates the film, his co-stars create great depth. Andrea Riseborough gives poor doomed Mandy a haunted look, happy in her isolation with Red, yet acutely feeling the bad times coming around the corner. Linus Roache plays Jeremiah Sand perfectly, projecting a thin veneer of confidence, easily shattered when not in total control. And Olwen Fourlele plays Mother Marlene surprising depth, Jeremiah’s out-of-vogue concubine, transparently thrilled by Mandy’s murder because it removes a challenger. The entire ensemble embraces the opportunity to get weird, and Mandy thrives.

Mandy isn’t for everyone. It’s violent, bizarre, and traumatic. Some people, reasonably, don’t want to watch this type of intense exercise in dark aesthetics. But horror films, like metal, create a theatrical opportunity to deal with real human emotions. Everyone fears losing loved ones, and wonders how far grief and rage might take them. If you have the stomach, Mandy will take you on an LSD-fueled ride through hell, well worth the trip.

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Me too!

I wish the world got to hear #MetroThuggin 😢 (at Cam Kirk Studios) https://www.instagram.com/thecamkirk/p/BpFlJrsnIr0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1nl5nzgs2tzcs

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dog riding dog (riding motorcycle)

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Akira (1988) / Key Master Setup (Cels x 9, Original Background + Genga x 2) / 250mm x 350mm

Tetsuo uses his powers to shield Kaneda and himself from SOL’s cannon.

Note: This is my favourite shot in the entire film. It’s also one of the most complex, comprising of nine separate layers of animation.

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Forty page Adventure Time zine, free for me and you.

Adam Muto announces, “The first (and very possibly last) Adventure Time crew zine BLE, now available as a digital edition.”

Get yours here.