LeCool Ldn - Light Speed Champion Interview

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More Hands Make Light Speed.. Champion

We caught up with Dev Hynes aka LightSpeed Champion (remember short-lived dance punk band Test Icicles? Effing love 'Circle Square, Triangle') before the unveiling of his new project Blood Orange. It's a new (side)venture which sees Dev dive solo into a rhythmic mess of funk and soul.

A short conversation while sharing a booth at Shoreditch eatery The Diner:

 
// So why did Test Icicles stop making music? I know a lot of people were devastated.

Really? Did anyone even listen to it? I just didn’t want to do it anymore. Both me and Sam agreed to end it. I caught up with him recently; he lives in LA.

// I'm really into your new project, ‘Blood Orange’.

Thanks, yea my album is coming out soon. There are 12 songs on the album but I made 30.

// I know you are originally from the UK why did you uproot to the USA? Was it for your career?

No not really. I just didn’t feel settled here. I wasn’t feeling the vibe, whereas in NY I just feel comfortable.

// Have you been going out much since you’ve been in London?

No.. I don’t really go out at night. In the US it’s good cause you don’t have to go clubbing if you want to go out at night. You can go to a bar or a coffee shop and all the restaurants are open really late. Plus the trains go all night and you don’t have to take buses! (Playing on laptop) Do you know how to burn DVDS?

// Ah yea I think you need to download a program that takes the security off the DVD. What DVD do you want to burn?

The Wire season six. I’ve been watching it for the past two weeks; I’m hooked.

Look out for our piece in next weeks London LeCool!

Dazed Digital Article : Face Hunter / Yvan Rodic

Click here for Behind the Face Hunter on Dazed Digital

Spike Watches as Kanye Drowns in a Pool of his Own Egotism

The recent collaboration between ubiquitous director Spike Jonze and rap-star extraordinaire Kanye West has recently found its way to the suffocating glory that is the World Wide Web. This is the second time Jonze and Spike have joined arms, the first being for Kanye’s video clip ‘Flashing Lights’. The eleven minute-short titled 'We Were Once a Fairytale' shows a tuxedo-clad Kanye on a night out after a couple too many. His eyes are glazed over and his attempt at singing along to his own song ‘See You in My Nightmares’ is a dismal failure. Unimpressed club patrons humour the star as he struggles to hold himself up, while simultaneously fondling any pretty girl that enters his blurred vision. Although his determination prevails, or so he thinks, as he ends up making love to a beautiful woman donning a tight leopard-skin mini. However, moments later he awakes; strewn face-down, across a leopard skin couch with his pants around his ankles. It seems Mr West became a little more than acquainted with the wildly-spotted pillows. Dazed he re-enters the party scene and heads straight to the bathroom, only to violently vomit up what seems to be rose-coloured petals. After spotting a dagger on the ground he proceeds to cut open his insides, cue more rose petals, until finally we hear the sound of a blade to an umbilical cord. What’s on the other end? Clasped within West’s grasp is a tiny troll-like creature, who looks despondently at his incubator as he is handed a mini dagger. With a knowing yet sympathetic demeanour West looks on as the creature offs himself. It’s all about killing the demons within? Ya dig?

This mini-film comes riding on the back-tail of the VMA Taylor Swift storm, yet was made in January; almost a year before the loud-mouth antagonist unexpectedly joined the precocious country curl on stage. In West’s defence this episode only propelled Swift into a sphere of mass publicity which only Kanye holds the key to.

Director Spike Jonze does an amazing job at portraying the singer as a lost and confused soul. The victim of his own doing, he is drowning in a pool of egotism; the very core of his existence. Ever since his inception as Kanye West ‘the entertainer’ he has never been one to shy away from self-deprecation. In 'We Were Once a Fairytale' West’s believable portrayal of himself, a conceded materialistic ponce, ironically makes him endearing to the viewer. Jonze enables the viewer to feel sorry for the ostentatious star who is so self-aware yet so obliviously unaware of reality, that self-effacement seems to be his only salvation.

**Disclaimer: After the Taylor Swift Affair Kanye suffered an identity crisis and in turn cancelled his tour with Lady Gaga and access to the West/Jonze video.

Face Hunter

Almost gagged on the opportunity to meet up with Yvan Rodic aka the notorious Face Hunter, luckily I managed to hold down any form of sustenance consumed earlier that morning. Initially the meeting was set up for Lacoste's new project Evolução Francesa; we were meant to take some 'street' shots with me decked out in Lacoste. Unfortunately being one of the later appointments meant I wasn't left with much to choose from. In fact the table of goodies included: 7 pairs of shoes, about twice the size of my own tootsies, a black sleveless polo top and a pair of maroon tennis shorts. 

No prizes for guessing which I opted for. 

After much umming & ahhing we hit the streets, Yvan with his Canon G10 and me with my bounty of questions, fortunately for me Yvan was rather amicable and quite forthcoming. Hooray, it seemed I was right to leave my probing tool at home!

So the 15 minute foray turned into an hour-long impromptu interview; we talked more than we shot and this I had no qualms about. Our formidable session took us through the internet blogging world, under the stagnate air of supposed fashion capitals Paris and Milan and into the impact of climate on style.

However, these are just the crumbs. Stay tuned for the biscuit.

Hipster Porn

In need of some fleshy gratification? Flip through the pages of your local glossie and you're sure to get a 'saucy fix', with fashion editorials and advertising campaigns that would make even Larry Flynt blush. Soft porn has become the new power tool and the big guns are not afraid to embrace it. In the advertising world it’s all about making a lasting impression – regardless of its relevance to the product – and sex sells. This truism is no revelation, yet slackening restrictions are allowing for overtly sexual and controversial print advertising, which is ambiguously wavering between ‘art’ and ‘porn’. Soft-porn, it seems, is the new trend and consumers find it pretty convincing. Infamous photographers Terry Richardson and Steven Meisel are currently at the forefront; creating sleazy, salacious images for the likes of fashion designers Calvin Klein and Sisley. While American Apparel CEO Dov Charney, has successfully tried his hand at the simple point-and-shoot for his controversial clothing campaign. But is the public ready?

Since his 1980 advertisement that showed a sultry 15-year-old Brook Shields in a pair of her ‘favourite’ Calvins, American designer Calvin Klein has been fully aware of the power of the ‘pulse’. An image that shocks and seduces you, piques your interest and locks your gaze - sending shivers down your spine. In 1992, Calvin Klein enlisted the help of buff rapper Marky Mark, better known these days as actor Mark Wahlberg, and a barely legal Kate Moss. The scene: the duo is intimately positioned, while sporting nothing more than their Calvin Klein jeans and underwear; a simple idea, yet an effective message which stays relatively innocent. Fast-forward to 2009, however, and Steven Meisel has helped Klein push the boundaries. In his image, three semi-dressed youths; two males and one female, lay embracing one another on a couch. A fourth topless male reclines on the floor. This is supposed to be selling you Calvin Klein; its jeans, its underwear, and the many other products, to which Mr Klein ‘fastidiously’ lends his name. Instead it sells a message. A message that says: if you wear these jeans something like this could happen to you. Do we believe it? I sincerely hope not. But we believe in something and it is definitely not the quality. If all it took was a sturdy pair of jeans, the last thing Mr CK would need to show you, is sexually-charged youths on the brink of a ménage-a-trois status.



In a rather ironic twist, many clothing companies are favouring the less is more approach, and sometimes, dressing their models in nothing more than a pair of tube socks. American Apparel founder Dov Charney has pioneered a marketing campaign that lends itself to a sort-of amateur porn aesthetic, in which normal-looking girls; we’re told they’re AA sales assistants, wear little more than a coy smile. The end result resembles something your boyfriend could have taken in the back-room, and in Charney’s opinion it has garnered both praise and prejudice. Despite this, the 41-year-old entrepreneur remains adamant that his images are sexy yet harmless, and an individual’s reaction is ultimately ruled by personal taste. Such images are riddled with soft-core porn body postures and motifs; prepubescent girls with spread legs and facial expressions that suggest sexual pleasure are done in a vernacular, un-posed type style. The company says it’s catering for the global youth culture; presenting them with young, fresh and sexy everyday individuals who embrace sex and sexual liberation. However, when he’s not taking the photos or fighting off sexual harassment cases, Charney and his handle-bar moustache take time to jump on the other side of the camera, producing photos which would give low-budget porn movies circa-1973, a run for their money. A brand that sells plain over-sized t-shirts, hoodies, slacks and tube socks has managed to market itself in such a way, as to put the X back into X-large. Their provocative nature gets people talking and leaves a lingering after-taste, and depending on your predilection, you’ll either enjoy it or wish you’d never opened your mouth.


Charney hard at work.

Post-modern snapshot photographer Terry Richardson is synonymous with this adult-friendly-style, in which a standard point-and-shoot camera creates a cheap photographic quality. His iconic soft-core photo narratives, which exploit sexual innuendo, have inevitably led to labels such as 'misogynistic' and 'perverse'; but the son of famed fashion photographer Bob Richardson, couldn’t give a rats. His ability to artfully meld art and porn into an off-putting, yet oddly attractable scent has propelled him from hipster stardom; Vice and Purple magazine, to the likes of Rollingstone, GQ and Sports Illustrated. His graphic sexual depictions and taboo allusions have even won over the high-end fashion magazines, including Vogue and Harpeer’s Bazaar. Everyone wants him to demoralize them; Kate Moss, Lindsay Lohan, Pam Anderson and even U.S president Barak Obama, have been touched by Mr Richardson.



For the Sisley Fall Winter 2001 ad campaign "Farming", the photographer shot supermodel Josie Maran as she frolicked around a farm, in various states of dress and undress. He channels school-girl porn as Maran lies on her side in an unbuttoned shirt and plays on the up-the-skirt angle. In the most torrid yet well publicized image of the Sisley-Richardson collaboration, Maran squirts milk from a cow’s udder as she insouciantly stares at you through the camera lens; milk dripping from her mouth. In this campaign all sort of innuendos are at play and although it was widely criticized for its vulgarity, for Terry Richardson it was just another pay check from yet another wealthy fashion house, who can no longer deny the ‘talent’ of the man who took 1970`s porn aesthetic and made it fashion chic.



The introduction of soft-porn into the advertising industry threatens to break down all kinds of barriers and taboos. Pioneers Terry Richardson and Dov Charney are busy repackaging pornography for the mainstream audience; persuading us to see it as risqué instead of vulgar, and racy instead of dirty. Are we offended? Damn straight, but not enough to look away; instead we criticize it for being offensive or commend it for its apathy. These pseudo-porn images seduce and fascinate us; they gain publicity regardless of the nature and unwittingly stick to the roof of our mouth.

Yet, while some see the American Apparel vision as a degeneration of our society, CEO Dov Charney maintains that he is only catering for a need that was already there, but had not yet been satisfied. Along with many others, Charney and Richardson have subjected society to the demand for porn, which is challenging our limits and shaping our perceptions accordingly. ‘X-rated images are hawking everything from beer to video games’ said Charney, so why not fashion? It seems the public have apprehensively accepted the saturation of porn in advertising; whether it was through personal opinion or public pressure is of little concern to these precursors. The truth of it is, the soft-core brigade is out in full-force and will continue to push the envelope, because after sex comes sales.



Here's some moving visuals courtesy of American Apparel.

Oprah's Head Shot

Hadn't heard much from mulit-award winning talk-show host Oprah Winfrey and was beginning to get a little worried. So I did what any concerned fan would do and gave her a l'il google. So apparently Beyonce's been teaching her how to be bootylicious, while the not-so single lady's better half Jay-Z has been all up in O's grill; teachin' her the reverberating skills any self-respecting rap-star should have.

But back to all that a bit later.

A find that I did deem rather intriguing was a 1989 'shot' of Ms Winfrey, the richest African-American of the 20th century, on the cover of the US 'TV Guide'. Her svelte figure is adorned in a daring purple embellished chiffon number. Yet after much research, it was revealed that the only real part of Winnie that featured on the August cover was her head!

During a time when Photoshop was a secret weapon unbeknown the best of 'em, the photo editor had taken a 1979 photo of Swedish born actress/singer Ann-Margret Olssen (see Grumpy Old Men) and merely added O's cranium - thanks to the sly handiwork of artist Chris Notarile.

After being caught out by Ann-Margret's fashion designer, who noticed the dress before she noticed Olssen's body, TV Guide profusely apologised. The magazine had failed to gain permission from either of the starry-eyed ladies and was eventually caught with its pants down.

Check out O from head to toe:

Mano-a-Mano

In 1980 Jake and Elwood Blues were on a mission from god. With their new found freedom the Blues Brothers jumped into their 1968 Black Cadillac Fleetwood and took us on a bumpy ride. Through the streets of Chicago, Illinois ‘bromance’ was born. Over the years this portmanteau has been fervently embraced by the film industry; pairing up the boys and sending them each on a journey. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman found (Shawshank) redemption, Lethal Weapon’s Mel Gibson and Danny Glover upheld the law, Beavis and Butthead did America, Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn crashed your wedding, and Superbad sent Jonah Hill and Michael Sera in search of their manhood. These ‘buddy films’ whispered that a close bond between two men did not automatically suggest homosexual connotations. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. These days these ‘isosocial relationships’ are as vigorous as the metro-sexual beauty regime, and both are being readily accepted by the world at large. Ever wish you were vigilante Batman or how about Superman?

However, what hasn’t had wide coverage is the ‘man crush’ – when a man is completely smitten by another man; a neologism which usually concerns celebrities, musicians or athletes. It is a desire driven by admiration for or jealousy of an individual, who is believed to be more fortunate, talented or good-looking. Similar to ‘bromance’ this phenomenon concerns non-sexual relationships but unlike ‘bromance’ it derives from idolization or infatuation. Take for example David Beckham, men all over the world have admitted to having a ‘man crush’ on the English-born football-star, who not only plays good football, earns good money and looks good, he is also married to former Spice Girl, Victoria ‘Posh’ Beckham. As soon as the player enters a room, conversations fall to a hush and eager gentleman, push past the love-struck women, and coyly make a beeline toward him; holding out their hands in preparation for his sturdy grasp, ready to shower him with praise and admiration.

In 1994, season five of TV show, 'Seinfeld' hit the screens and embraced the ‘man crush’: “You know, I think George has a non-sexual crush on him… I mean, every time I see him, it's Tony this, Tony that. George is like a school girl around him”. In the 76th episode, George develops a ‘man crush’ on Tony (actor Dan Cortese), a vapid, ‘mimbo’ (male bimbo) rock climber; imitating Tony’s backward cap-style, insouciant mannerisms and lexicon, George admits that ‘it's a different world when you're with a cool guy’. Recently, a good male friend of mine experienced a similar situation, in which he was the recipient of some man love; a highly-strung enthusiasm and unrequited adoration that seemed rather unjustified. My male friend is no rock-star, albeit he plays some mighty fine Guitar Hero, and yet this particular male admirer was smitten. My friend’s girlfriend, on the other hand, was often sidelined and ignored, any attention that she did receive was of an undesirable nature, and this included many ice-cold death-stares from her boyfriend’s frisson fan.



Such behaviour is often witnessed at music concerts, in which fanatical female fans are forced to compete with over-zealous male fans. We girls anticipate the vexation of our sisters and their underhanded methods; the elbow in the back or the heel on the foot, but what we don’t expect are the guys. The guys who are just as keen to catch the musician’s gaze or experience the tactile sensation of his touch, as the barely dressed girl standing beside them. They reach over us, leaning their weight, while attention-seekingly waving their hands in their air. They hug one another, slur ‘flattering’ comments, spill their drinks and have no regard for their surroundings. At a recent Mike Snow gig the lead singer was more than willing to shake the hand of those male fanatics, enough to make their knees buckle. This is man love at its best - backed by a beat.

In early 2000, the world watched as former Prime Minister John Howard fell for George W. Bush’s cowboy swagger; enough to persuade Howard, amongst other things, to send SAS troops to Afghanistan and Iraq. He also signed a Free Trade Agreement with the US and from this alliance or ‘man crush’, a highly-publicized ‘bromance’ soon flourished. Mr Howard announced Australia was the best friend the United States ever had and the two men ‘fought’ the war against terrorism, mano-a-mano.

In the Anglo-Saxon world, men can now feel comfortable expressing their platonic love for a male buddy - sans the identity crisis. Have you ever heard a guy say “I’m not gay but if I was ‘insert name here’ would be the one”? I have. Man crushes are no longer kept in the dark, instead they stand up with confidence; at the football stadium, in the movies, see Clooney, Pitt and Affleck and their ultimate series of ‘bromantic’ comedies, Ocean's 11, 12 and 13, and at concerts – even in the front row. Don’t believe us? Check out mancrush.com, a voting-based site founded in 2005 by Eric Vecchione, which caters for the growing number of gents who appreciate their hombros. Currently Jesus is number one, lucky number two is jail-house rock legend Elvis Presley, who is closely followed by Hollywood’s twisted bad-ass Edward Norton. But don’t be confused, this is pure unadulterated isosexual love. In the words of Scrub's besties JD and Turk “it’s man love, that’s all it is”.

The Celebrities Can't Keep Up

A very honest analysis of the relationship between celebrities and the weekly glossies.

"You build the story around an emotion," says a celebrity weekly editor, who spoke on condition of anonymity. "What's happening with poor Jen this week? Well, John Mayer's seeing someone else, and for a woman of her age, that must be awful ... So you construct a narrative of what a woman her age may be feeling." Stories may start with nothing more than a set of photographs: Aniston looking happy, or sad - or happy one moment and sad the next, since if you take multiple shots of anyone, with a fast shutter speed, you can capture a range of expressions. "The question is: how can we construct a story around a set of emotions that our readers are going to relate to? It can come from a genuine tip, or a photo. Or it can come out of our ass."

Read rest of the Guardian article here.

Jump My Suit

Wow.

I want that unitard & those boobies.

Is it true that a massive personality distracts attention away from a small-chest? 

Apparently boys like that. Personality, I mean.

I've definitely got a 'massive' personality and people always tell me I'm distracting.

Wow those melons are more complication than they're worth.

Perhaps I'll just stick with my wall & dress it in the tropical 'tard.

It Rained So Hard it Felt Like Snow

Was lucky enough to catch Swedish trio, Miike Snow, for a free gig at London's Cargo Bar. And after listening to what they had to 'say', I would have happily re-wound the clock and dug out my penny purse. They appeared on stage wearing white masks, which once taken off, further confirmed that these talented musos were indeed from the land of the genetically blessed...The lead singer and his moustache were looking mighty fine.

Their self-titled album is out now. Go catch them before everyone else does.

http://www.myspace.com/miikesnow

American Apparel CEO - A Young Dov Charney

Pure Gold.

A nefarious male version of Curly Sue. Once a hustler..

Stars in Our Eyes

Celebrities, we follow them around like love-sick puppies; emulating their fashion, hair and mannerisms. We thrive off their frivolity; as we flip through the pages of our tabloid magazines we’re faced with photos of the rich and their famous friends, at their fancy parties, on their shiny yachts and in their many conspicuous mansions. Their lives allow us to escape our own 9-5 route for something a little more scenic. We escape reality by jumping ship, to join P. Diddy and co. as they eat their caviar and sip back flutes of Cristal champagne. Their ridiculous wealth makes their on-screen fictitious stories seem as banal as our own lives.

A Dying Breed - The Day He Lost His Boogie

Celebrities, pop-stars (pop-tarts), superstars, they have always seemed like such an invincible breed. Capable of anything while freed from the associated ramifications. The ramifications of life, of jumping off a cliff, of having way to much collagen pumped, of a non-existent food-intake.. and the list goes on. Of course our warped perception and voyeuristic attitude toward these super-humans have as much to do with the movies they produce as it does with the 'news' the glossies (print, TV and broadcast) decide to feed us.

We mere mortals can not help but become slaves to the news-feeds that evade our aural space; infiltrating our thoughts and ideas. These so-called 'celebrities' wave to us through the television, laugh and blow us raspberries from the red carpet and are 'ever' so grateful for our love and support.

Oh no wait, how does it go? 'I'd like to thank god and all of my fans, because without you, none of this would be possible'. Oh yea, so there is god too, but mostly it's us.

We (secretly) look up to them: We adore the way they dress and in-turn create copy-cat versions (see the 1001 fashion copy adoration sites - oh Kate you're such an inspiration; unwashed hair, mini-shorts and gumboots, now why didn't I think of that!)

We print off their photos or rip them out of magazines, only to whip them out at the hairdresser. Make me look like Jennifer Aniston! We frequently save them to our computer desktop, oh Giselle why can't my girlfriend be as sexy as you?

[Buy her some tan-in-a-can and pay for a 'small' breast augmentation and you're half way there!]

And then.. as we wait, with baited breathe, for their next unpredictable move; new hair-cut, new beau, new career (see Joaquin Phoenix), they go and die on us...

They die and with their withering bodies, their incredibly built-up persona comes crashing down. What about the new haircut? I thought after that it was a shoe-in! She seemed so happy with her fourth husband; things were definitely looking up for her! At least that's what E! News told me. Was it all a lie? Oh Ryan Seacrest are you capable of such follies?

Recently,it seems they're dropping like flies. These inspirational muses who we try to replicate, personify, perhaps even clone(?) Calling Top Shop. On Thursday morning, Charlie's Angel Farrah Fawcett passed away and so too did Michael Jackson. After suffering from a a drug over-dose the 'king of pop'- had no more left to give, leaving behind three children, a musical legacy and a few thousand ticket holders.

The gates that did their best to hide the life of a tierd superstar.

M.J had 50 summer concerts planned in London through August at the O2 Arena, a hugely anticipated series that was expected to resurrect the star’s career and earn him an estimated 50 million U.S dollars. The shows were to begin July 13 2009 but the majority of them were pushed back to March 2010. The Jackson camp cited 'the challenges presented by such a large and technically complex concert' as the reason and insisted that the star was in good health. Fans were skeptical and if there were ever a time to say 'I told you so,' now would be it. Instead Facebook and Twitter walls are crowded with messages of praise and admiration.

All the ridicule that once clouded the news articles, has now been replaced with those presenting Jackson as a juggernaut amongst his contemporaries and congratulating 'the king of pop' on his successful career. Ironically death seems to bring out the best in people.. and although I do not want to humanise the media, I will say that there are times, such as this when even the media respond in a respectful manner. Nevertheless, this too shall pass and in a day or so articles will surface questioning the fate of the children M.J left behind and that lingering debt.. The debt that could have quite possibly been erased with the 450 million U.S dollars the singer was to make from his 'This is it' global tour.

Unfortunately for the little brother of the Jackson 5, this really was it.

R.I.P

Ashton Kutcher- An Over-Used Car Salesman

He brought us Punk'd, Beauty and the Geek and showed us that it was ok to marry someone twice your age. And now he brings us Coolpix Nikon.



Ashton, didn't anyone every tell you that over-saturation drowns the masses?

M.I.A's still got it.

"Everyone's a winner, we're making our fame. Bonafide hustler making my name." M.I.A

Don't Vote

This video features a whole lot of celebrities trying to 'reverse-psychology' the pants off you...

It was released in late 2008, and I guess Leo D thought that a mass of celebutants telling you not to vote would be pretty damn convincing.

But I just find it all quite narcissistic. Who do they think they are?


Can some one please tell:

Sarah Silver that poop jokes are only funny if you're young enough to do it in your pants and expect nothing less than a pat on the back.

Halle Berry that her 'down-to-earth' tone is just plain patronising.

Jennifer Aniston to STOP touching her hair.

Jonah Hill that glasses, no matter how thick they are, will never make you less of a stoner. You have Seth Rogen to thank for that one.

Ashton to SHUT UP! No one cares, especially when you insist on wearing those damn trucker hats.

Giovanni Ribisi to give me call. Damn boy.

Gallons Of Soup But No Spoon In Sight

"[Liam is] rude, arrogant, intimidating and lazy. He's the angriest man you'll ever meet. He's like a man with a fork in a world of soup."

Noel Gallagher getting all uppity about his brother Liam. A man with a 'fork in a world of soup'?
That simile makes no sense at all & yet it appears profound and almost on the verge of existentialism.

Is Ashton Giving Pharrell A Run For His Money?

BLAH GIRLS- An episode from Husband & wife team, Ashton and Demi, et al.

First it was the 5 reality tv shows then there was the recent Twitter fiasco, in which the 'small man' (pfft Ashton) sticks it to the 'big media company' (CNN) .. and now the Twitterer with 1 million followers, & counting, proudly calls BLAH GIRLS his own.

Let's hope Pharrell has got something cooling in the oven.