Part of me hates the fact that I grew out of liking They Might Be Giants past middle school, but I think it was necessary, at least for me. This is one of a very small handful of song of theirs that I still like (enough to have DJ-ed it a few times). I will say, however, that I will never, ever get tired of guys who look/dress just like this. Late 80’s/early 90’s college radio guys who look like they’d hang out in a Kids In The Hall skit will always have my heart.
Never concurred with anything so hard. I married one of these guys. He can get away a lot—fashion-wise, things that would be straight-up wrong on other people—because of it. When we first started dating, someone told me I shouldn’t date him because he wore pleated pants.
He used to have a car with a They Might Be Giants bumper sticker and I think that sticker caused us to have a lot of highway stalkers. Someone once followed us from Atlanta to Birmingham because of it. Or they were trying to kill us, who knows.
He recently told me he was thinking of growing his hair out, from basically 1/4 inch. My first reaction was horror but then I thought of John Linnell’s floppy hair and figured he should go for it.
I’ll always love Linnell’s lyrics. Syd Straw compared him to Emily Dickinson, an apt analogy.
My cousin and dear friend passed away this week and I’m heartbroken. He left behind some thrilling art and music, released under various names/guises. Here is a great writeup of his work and above is one of his more fun pieces.
If you like witch house/grave wave/new industrial/what the hell ever you want to call it, you will love his shit. In fact if you like those things you already know who he was: P0/\/YB0Y, ĳĒŞǙŞ ҚĦŖİŞŢ, F46907, Blair Shynola.
The folks at Witchbook are paying tribute to him now in their recent posts.
I feel like sharing all this here because even though he was public with his art he never really tried to gain attention, or fame or money; in fact I feel like it never occurred to him to do so and maybe he had no idea how many people loved him and his work from however afar. But it’s great stuff.
Personally I find little to nothing redeeming about these films. I tried to come up with five to round out the list (maybe I’ll think of more later ed. I remembered! Arthur, ugh.), but honestly most movies that are well-loved are well-loved with good reason. These, though…
Is it me? With the exception of Butch Cassidy, I watched all these films with my husband and he had the same reaction. But then he and I are a lot alike.
Hate is a strong word. For instance, as a lover of westerns (and harborer of a Clint Eastwood crush) who had never seen Unforgiven, when I finally watched it I was underwhelmed and bored and didn’t see what all the fuss was about. It was okay. I didn’t hate it.
These are not all recent viewings—probably saw Butch Cassidy first in 2005, Klute in 07, Chinatown maybe 09 and The Wild Bunch this past weekend—so I can’t attribute it to a mood or a period in my life. I just hate these movies. And I will discuss what I hate about them in detail in some later posts. (I’m sure you’re excited! Eh… yeah.)
I realize it is less valuable—and much less edifying—to wallow in what you hate than it is to revel in what you love. Therefore for every hate post I make, I’ll make another for a movie I love. (Can’t wait for me to talk about how much I love Re-Animator? Yeah, I thought you could.)