Kids celebrated its anniversary at BAM last month, but it was actually 20 years ago today that it hit the big screen at Angelika Film Center. So it makes sense that on July 16, director Larry Clark and his star Leo Fitzpatrick reconvened at Angelika for another anniversary screening of Clark’s personal 35-mm print. This time, they were accompanied not by Chloe and Rosario, but by Hamilton Harris (you’ll remember him as the guy who taught everyone in Washington Square Park how to roll a blunt), who premiered a sizzle reel for his in-the-works documentary about the kids of Kids.
B + B Q + A
Who likes a Potty Mouth? That’s not just a line your mom says before grabbing the soap: it’s the name of one of the much buzzed about bands performing at Gigawatts Festival this Saturday. We rang up Abby Weems and Ally Einbinder to learn more about the punk-pop trio’s upcoming show and to find out if they’re ready to spring the follow-up to their well received last album, Hell Bent, released in 2013 by North Brooklyn’s own Old Flame Records. They were tight-lipped (rather than potty-mouthed) about that, but we did talk about their band crushes, translating life into lyrics, and mansplaining. Yes, they know how much that pedal costs and, yes, they know how to use it.
Multidisciplinary artist Rachel Mason’s album turned surreal rock-opera film The Lives of Hamilton Fish owes its life to coincidence. In January 1936, two men from upstate New York named Hamilton Fish — one a sadistic serial killer, the other a minor statesman — died a day apart. Decades later, while volunteering as an art teacher at Sing Sing Correctional Facility (where killer Fish was executed), Mason discovered their side-by-side obituaries in a newspaper clipping that would spark her self-admitted “obsession” with the Fish men.
Walk down Morgan Avenue, past Owen Dippie’s recent mural of Renaissance artists sporting Mutant Ninja Turtle masks, and you’ll get to ASVP’s latest, “Triple Crown.” The black-and-white painting on the side of Sugarlift gallery shows three horses, all clean lines and free-flowing manes. “It’s derived from a larger theme that we’ve incorporated into some of our recent work,” a member of the anonymous duo told us. “The concept of finding wildness.”
You’ve probably seen Damien Lemon on MTV 2’s Guy Code, or as the cabbie in one of those Spiderman movies or on Comedy Central’s The Half Hour. This month you can find him doing stand-up at The Stand. Lemon first walked onto the stage in 2005, when he performed at Sal’s Comedy Hole, and since then he’s been dishing out laid-back advice and commentary on race, sex and, yes, Uber drivers. Lemon, who also co-hosts a podcast called #InTheConversation and co-anchors MTV 2’s Not Exactly News gave us insight into the comedians he most looks up to, the “two different Brooklyns,” and how he transforms “fucked up” shit into jokes that hit.
Over the millennia much attention has been paid to the concept of love (a second hand emotion? a stink?), while hate tends to sit, brooding in the corner. Apparently, the line between the two is thin. A wise master once noted, “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Beyond this advice for mastering your emotions (and the force), is a call for empathy. Of course, how can one forget the more fatalist flipside: “haters gonna hate.”
Once upon a time there were things called subcultures, that managed to thrive despite promotion through “social channels” or sponsorships from energy drinks. Since 1980, 156 Rivington Street has been a subculture enclave for activists, artists, counter culturists, and assorted noisemakers, providing a non-profit space to exchange ideas and physically interact. It’s not secret that the hardcore punk scene was once a magnet for such individuals, so when the storied matinee shows at CBGB became too violent in the late-’80s, punk turned off the Bowery to Rivington Street to ABC No Rio.
In a matter of a few years, Jon Fine, formerly of the band Bitch Magnet, went from an indie rock lifer cavorting from Williamsburg warehouse party to coke-soaked dive bar and barely making enough to make rock bottom rent on his train-side apartment to contributing on air to CNBC and writing columns for BusinessWeek. Clearly, those were different days– that same Williamsburg apartment would cost a small fortune to rent now and Fine suffers from permanent hearing loss, though he’s happily married and is the author of a new book Your Band Sucks. Fine’s memoir traces his rise to indie fame as the guitar player for Bitch Magnet to ultimately, what he calls, “the failed revolution.”
You probably remember Awkwafina best from “NYC Bitche$” in which the pint-sized Queens-native (no, she’s not from Flushing) raps, “Bitches be in Bushwick, they all live in Bushwick, they all love Bushwick, but I say fuck that shit,” and wreaks havoc on iPad-wielding bros by the Bedford stop. Her video wasn’t exactly a reaction to Catey Shaw’s notoriously tone-deaf North Brooklyn bubble video, “Brooklyn Girls” (“NYC Bitche$” was actually released before Shaw’s much-maligned video bombed) but it certainly stands as the opposition. But Awkwafina is seeking to further solidify her New York City street cred with a new project.