The Godfather of Disco is a new documentary about Mel Cheren, his contribution to the New York disco scene in the 70s and 80s, his role in the fight against Aids, the Paradise Garage, West End Records, Larry Levan, and, and and.
Watch the trailer.
I’m so late on Beth Ditto and The Gossip, even they have written about her. I guess the indie rock label scared me off. Finally, I’ve got to listen to Gossip’s cover version of Aaliyah’s Are You That Somebody. So good.
Thanks kevin h.
I am so happy to be back in T.O.
I had the most useless stopover in Montreal and even missed my connecting flight. Anyhow, this gave me more time to study the Guardian:
“This has given rise to much speculation about the role that her husband, Bill, would play in a Hillary administration. He would be not only the first male consort of a president of the United States but also the first one to have been president himself – and as such would enjoy the same right as his wife to be greeted by a band playing “Hail to the Chief!” as he enters a room.
He would also be entitled, as are all ex-presidents, to be addressed as “Mr President”, so the waiter bringing in the Clintons’ morning coffee would presumably say “Good morning, Mr President” as well as “Good morning, Madam President” as he puts down the tray. We could be in for an orgy of sycophancy.”
J’adore the video for the current men’s summer collection of Maison Martin Margiela. I’m feeling the subtle rent boy / Stricher vibe. I know it is a bit of a stretch – at certain points the imagery reminds me of Faustrecht der Freiheit. Maybe it’s the crotch shots.
Here is a direct link to the flash movie, though you should probably make the window size smaller.
I’ll threaten to post more pictures if you don’t watch it.
I went record shopping in Soho and bought yellow vinyl housed in a sealed sleeve with random die-cut lettering.
On my walk to the wreka stows I discovered my new favourite sweets: Cream Puffs by Beard Papa. I walked into the small shop on the corner of Oxford & Berwick St. and the two self printed sheets of paper above the counter did me in:
“Over 300 stores worldwide – First and only in Europe”
“World’s best cream puffs! – Choice of original vanilla OR flavour of the day”
So, I ordered a vanilla puff and it was pure heaven, the crispiness of the dough and the tasty cream filling, perfect. Mmmmh. Then, I thought, well, they only have one other flavour today, you should better try this one, too. “One green tea puff, please.” I guess I was drolling already. I took a bite, it was vanilla again. I adored the sales person: That nifty devil just wanted me at the counter one more time. And back I was for another puff.
Verdict: Beard Papa keeps me happy & obese.
I took the bendy bus to my apartment and went to the Beard Papa site right away. Make sure to watch the Beard Papa story, revealing everything about the owner, Beard Papa (you guessed it), hailing from Osaka.
Beard Papa, fill me up. Please.