The Josephone Institute of Ethics claims that the youth today are decrepit, lying scum. I'm really bored with people like "The Josephone Institute" and Joel Stein preaching about how *the youth* are narcissistic, useless, potato sacks so I wrote an essay on it a few months back. Here it is.

Passion (2012) by Para One

Para One, the moniker of French artist Jean-Baptiste de Laubier, released its first album Passion in 2012. Baptiste has heavy roots within the underground hip hop/ electronic scene, and is most known for his role as a producer of alternative hip hop band TTC. Passion is a blend of both catchy, pining love songs, and icy electronic beats. The album as a whole has an ambient, ethereal feel to it and muses over themes such as love, loss and religion. Laubier’s experience in film, as he directed Sixpack France’s short film It Was On Earth That I Knew Joy, shines through in Passion especially in tracks such as “The Talking Drums” and “Sigmund”. Standout tracks include “Wake Me Up”, “Every Little Thing”, “Love Ave” and “When the Night”.

1. “Ice Cold” is a frosty opener and the song is true to its name. It’s dark, ethereal, ancient and ominous. I can see this being the audio to panoramic B-roll of an abandoned Grecian mansion in a Christopher Nolan film. It’s the kind of song that would play during slow, creaking shots of crumbled pillars and murky, pearl lakes that have mint colored leaves floating precariously on top. The gravel is not out of place, the gate opens by itself, and the wrath of Zeus is right around the corner.

2. “Wake Me Up” has a strong metallic, “witch house” vibe to it. The song is a conversation that gets very chopped and screwed, especially towards the end. It is heavily influenced by Laubier’s electronic/trap background. The song is cold, and is a complete 180 from the next track “Every Little Thing”. “Wake Me Up” has a more controlling vibe to it; the relationship in the song is not one that the listener should be able to identify with.

3. “Every Little Thing” is very cute and is thoroughly dream pop. Passion is, at many times, a pop album, and “Every Little Thing” characterizes this. Catchy progressions and vocals make this track a memorable love song. Unlike the other songs, where the vocals are scratched out or mumble-rapped, the vocals on “Every Little Thing” are clear and precise. While “Wake Me Up” has a powerful, robotic relationship within it, “Every Little Thing” croons the common narrative of unrequited love and obsessive pining in a more approachable way. If a 20-something who was really into Purity Ring decided to create an updated John Hughes soundtrack, this would be in it.

4. “Vibrations followed by Poisoned Apple” is, in terms of atmosphere, is a mix of “Every Little Thing” and “Wake Me Up”. It’s not as cold and unforgiving as the opening singles, but it is not as warm as “Every Little Thing”. It reminds me of the cinematic scenes featured in early 2000’s video games. It could be the soundtrack to Rainbow Road in Mario Kart. The beat becomes pretty heavily dynamic soon into the song, switching between the icy coolness that is apparent throughout the entire album and an 8-bit dreamlike, transcendence. It is truly a transitionary song that stays true to Passion’s emphasis on alternative hip hop.

5. “When the Night” features soulful vocals and marks the turn of the album. It is the storm, pouring over with a heavy R&B influence. I get strong 1980’s movie montage vibes from this song. I would definitely listen to it while riding out of a Cadillac sun roof, my arms stretched towards the heavens, with my buddies snorting coke off the sides of my discarded, holographic platforms, as we race down the wrong side of the tracks.

6. “Sigmund” begins with a quote from Lost Highway, a 1997 psychological thriller directed by David Lynch, who I’m positive would at least like this album. “Sigmund” has a sense of urgency we haven’t seen in the album since “Wake Me Up”, but also includes heavy notes of confusion. Unlike the other tracks which are more audience friendly, “Sigmund” takes no prisoners. It’s a song that doesn’t seem to care if you are able to stick around on its myriad of metallic beats and heavy electronic chopping. Very robotic, very Donna Haraway.

7. “Love Ave” is softer than the other love songs. The beat of this is very subtle, and is like a cyborg whispering in your ear and tracing your curves as you lie in your all white—but comfortable—apartment. “Love Ave” has strong hip hop and house beats to it. The vocals are not very present, but when they do appear they match the ambient, crush-on-you, atmosphere of the song.

8. “You” is a heavy electronic/trap song, that is chopped and screwed somewhat in the way “Sigmund” is. It’s house music, complete with turns, twists, and muffled robot vocals. It’s a song that reminds me of strobe lights, the way the beat quits for only a second at a time. It is the kind of song that would play as you lean against the bar of some trendy club in some trendy city. You’d be dressed in all black and your drink would be as ambiguous as you are that night. Your hair, thick with the grime of the city and your sin, falls on your face as you look up and see someone across the club. It’s like you’re looking at a reflection, you can see yourself in them. It’s like they’re you, and their hollow eyes have just enough room for you to welcome yourself in. And goddamn this song just fits the moment, y’know? That’s what you tell your friends as you leave later that night and “You” crashes in the chambers of your crashing skull.

9. “Albatros” is an echoing electronic song, with muted vocals. I originally read the title as “Alcatraz” and I suppose it fits; I could see this song playing while a few good-guys-turned-bad criminals planned a prison break. It has weird, blurry beats and vocals that suddenly drop; it’s almost like a study of sound.

10. “Lean on Me” is the next love song, or rather, a song about loss. It begs for the return of a past lover, lamenting the state of mind of knowing you did something terribly egregious, but you’re still positive that it can be remedied.  It has heavy trap leanings, but is still very ambient. This song reminds me of “Sigmund” in that it seems to have taken on a character, and it is the soundtrack to a particular story. 

11. “The Talking Drums” sounds a lot like “You” in that it has heavy, echoing, percussion. It literally is a track of drums talking. When you add the foggy, sermon vocals into the mix, it gives the song an impressive, occult vibe.

12. “Empire” is a relaxing track with slow R&B beats that offer the listener a way out. In the way “Ice Cold” was a chilling, unforgiving opener, “Empire” is a similar closing act. Imagine the daunting butler of an ancient mansion.  He has high cheekbones, dark, caved in eyes, gloss white hair, and he coldly opens the marble door and says “it would be in your best interest to leave”. If that guy was a song, he would be “Empire”.

A Field Guide to Thirst

Preface
A few weeks ago I had a really good conversation with some (female) friends about (boys). The amazing thing about teenage girls is that they have such a overwhelming, incomprehensible wealth of never ending lust. Teen girl thirst, curiously, is never accurately portrayed in media. For a force that is so strong, so powerful, that a mustard seed's worth of pure, unadulterated thirst could move mountains, few people seem to get it right. In movies, thirsty teen girls seem to be pining for soft kisses, and dramatic reenactments of Nicholas Spark novels. In my experience, however, romantically inclined adolescents seem to reflect the more risque musings a la "Touch My Body" by Mariah Carey. Their ideal reenactments are not ones of PG rated films, but perhaps movies of a more mature nature.

     "I want him to fuck me in the ass until I believe in god" 
                                                        -Anonymous, 19

     So it seems like movies aren't doing a such a good job of presenting teen girl sexuality in terms of actual teen girl sexuality. This isn't surprising, as mass media often fails to present anything about teenage girls with any resemblance to actual human teenage girls.

     "my bagina is gona explod"  
                            -Anonymous, 17


     Life isn't a John Hughes movie. I understand. I don't want Ferris to pretend to be my father and make out with me in front of my sketchy ass principal (yes I do). But I know that this thirsty life grants few reliefs. Those who follow The Call of The Thirst, often follow a lonely, desolate path. They sing the song of the confused, the hungry, and the hormonal. "Me So Horny" soon bears emotional attachment, the equivalent of "Asleep" by The Smiths in terms of how bitter, yet familiar, that pain is. The pain of thirst is not unlike the hot, lustful burn of molten pizza cheese to the roof of your mouth. A pain that, theoretically, could have been prevented, but here you are suffering. You could have focused on school or gave back to the world or helped some old person who was having heart problems while crossing the street or some other useless shit. But instead you spent 2 hours going through a well curated "zayn-malik" tag on tumblr. You could have waited for that shitty slice of satanic pizza to cool, but you shoved it in your mouth like the uneducated, insolent, baboon woman you are.

 ""IK OMFG [the thirst] ITS WAY TOO REAL. I THINK IT WILL EVENTUALLY KILL ME"
                                                                                                                - Anonymous, 17

  

  And so, I present a Field Guide to Thirst.

color study: brown

I really like the range of muted, warm colors. I find them really comforting. Pastels, which is the #1 color choice of teenage girls circa 2012, are too UNREALISTIC and ANXIETY RIDDEN.

What is this

                                                     

Pastel pink makes me think of Spalding from American Horror Story:Coven. When I see pastel colors I think a balding racist is going to kill me and dress my rotting corpse in taffeta. But browns, and warm neutrals are so comforting. It's like the sun invited all it's friends over for a party. Sun Party. Nothing is #false about warm neutrals. They carry with them a sense of nostalgia and safety, but also realism.

more pictures of the godlessness of warm neutrals, after the jump

Look at this street. The color scheme makes me feel like I could lie down on that sidewalk and never get urinated on.

seth meyers left snl; i am a husk of a girl

Around three years ago my obsession with Saturday Night Live really blossomed. I love jokes n comedians, you can tell by how often I can be found laughing alone, without any stimulation. I was about15 when I started forcing myself to stay up on weekdays to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report with my brother, and Saturday nights to watch SNL (this, in turn, resulted in me being really tired after school and not waking up in time to go to church). And even though Seth Meyers has been on SNL for more than a decade, and I've only been regularly watching SNL for a few years, I feel just as entitled as everyone else to talk about how sad I am about him leaving. 

 I won't mention his expansive skills as a comedian, since there are 2,000 articles plus a TIME cover about how good of a straightman Seth Meyers is. I just wanted to mention how attached I find myself to the cast of SNL. Weirdly, emotionally attached. When Weekend Update ended last night, you could have found me on the floor, whispering into my phone as my friend talked me through Seth's departure. I couldn't unleash my banshee screams, because my parents were sleeping and I didn't want to wake them up. So I just quietly groaned, not unlike a ghost in a 1990's Scooby Doo episode. Because there isn't anyone I know that makes me laugh as much as Seth Meyers and that weird, elite inner circle of comedians who all seem to be friends. It's like the Illuminati of funny white people. Even though they inspire me, there is a feeling of helplessness as everyone who's jobs I want continue to create such great work. I AM EMPTY. I don't even have good sentence structure. I AM A SHELL, A HUSK OF A GIRL. Which brings us to my first Selfie Sunday.

This is who I am now

sham in shambles

I have just become a second semester senior as of yesterday. It's a relief, because I've been stressed about schoolwork for 12 years and now I don't have to be...stressed...as much. Relatively. I know this is not like, Atlas levels of stress, but still. With all the shit that is about to rain down on me like the raincloud a la The Truman Show, it's a release knowing that there is nothing I can do anymore. Its like that dumb kid in freshman year gym class, the one who was dared to do a belly flop from the 20 ft diving board. He's just laughing as he climbs the first rungs, but with every step, with every one of his soggy toes wrapping around a new rung, a feeling of foreboding washes over him. By the time he is at the top he is still trying to retain the playful attitude he had once known. He is trying to remember that feeling of joy, of what it meant to be alive, to be human. But he has left us. He has broken through the atmosphere, and is orbiting our planet, a separate entity. It comes to a beautifully twisted, elegantly macabre crescendo when he takes those few, those brave, those proud, majestic leaps towards impending doom. As his corpulent body twists in the air in ways that defies the most basic laws of physics, a peculiar expression washes over his face like the veil of a blushing, virgin, 1850's Slavic bride. This is an expression known throughout the ages. An expression that reflects a feeling known by few men and women throughout history. Since the Early  Ages, when flint knives met the jaw of warriors, and the crunch of marrow ricocheted throughout the valleys, to the times when swordsmen pushed glints of silver through the viscous flesh of man. It is an expression that reflects a feeling of nothingness. Of bliss. Of ecstasy. Of emptiness. If Diving Board boy had left the human race moments behind on the journey, he has just rejoined it as he arcs through the air--and all at once. As his helpless body, which closely resembles a torpedo at this point, falls towards impending doom, and intolerable pain, he feels the passion, the love, the hate, the joy of all mankind. And because no man can handle such intense emotions, without combusting like the fiery balls of gas that decorate our mere universe, he relaxes into his fragility. He accepts that his efficacy has run out. He allows himself to be woven into the unforgiving, self assured fibers of the Fates. It is a look of contentment, tainted with the knowledge of sin. This is who I am now. No longer am I the half naked chubby kid climbing the rungs of public education, no. Now I am the half naked chubby kid plummeting towards my doom. But I do so with acceptance. And just like the chubby boy who will emerge from the water, stomach cherry red and sensitive, marred with the scars of the journey, I will rise from the ashes of my life. All in due time, dear poppets.