I've got a little informal poll this morning for you guys who zip through here daily:
How many of you who drop by have turntables? How many of you collect vinyl? How many of you visit the blog for the free Mp3's? Or is it the contests?
I'm curious because, as the City Paper Arts Blog commented yesterday, "The Vinyl District is giving a way a shit-ton of vinyl as part of “TVD’s Fall Vinyl Giveaways Week.” Here’s the best part: to win, you simply need to make your case for winning in the comments section of whatever album you’re jonesing for (as of now, you can choose from the debut LP from Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, Damon and Naomi’s 1001 Nights, AND AND Gossip’s Music for Men. So far, ONLY ONE PERSON HAS COMMENTED! DO NOT LET THIS PERSON WIN ALL THAT VINYL! SUPPORT DISTRICT VINYL BY FIGHTING AMONG(ST) YOURSELVES!
So, yea...where's the fight? I mean, if you DON'T have a turntable, enter anyway and let us send you one of the LPs in the mail. Display it. Show it to your pals. The thing IS art, after all.
Speaking of art, our new friends at FACTORY 25 have given us another gem to offer today, the movie 'Frownland' on DVD and its accompanying soundtrack on good ol' vinyl.
First-time director Ronald Bronstein describes his extraordinary film as “a rotten egg lobbed with spazmo aim at the spotless surface of the silver screen.” Be forewarned: audience response has been intensely divided. Frownland has garnered both passionate raves and scathing denunciation, while festival screenings have ended in screaming matches between patrons. It is strong stuff, yes, but none of its notorious reputation does justice to its savage dark humor, emotional heft and stylistic audacity. Above all else, Frownland is a pitch-black character study of Keith Sontag (Dore Mann), a neurotic, manipulative, stridently unlovable New Yorker whose pitiless roommate aptly describes him, to his face, as “a burbling troll in his underwear.” With the most basic elements of human communication a struggle, Keith lurches his way through an uncaring city, attempting to aid a suicidal friend, evict his unctuous roommate, and simply attain some measure of self-respect. An apoplectic seizure of blind rage, sorrow and bleating humor...Frownland.
"This is personal cinema at its most uncompromising and fierce."
—Manohla Dargis, The New York Times
“When US independent film has become so drab, marching on Sundance to better reach Hollywood, it is high time it regained the essence it lost twenty years ago...This is the reason why Frownland is so important”
—Cahiers Du Cinema
"One of the most unusual and audacious American independent films ever made."
—Richard Brody, The New Yorker
“There is some kind of demented brilliance at work here”
—Scott Foundas, The Village Voice
"A horror film nearly as creepy as Eraserhead and more unsparing."
—Amy Taubin, Film Comment
"Frownland is like a shriek for help. It centers on an extraordinary performance that plays like an unceasing panic attack. To call it uncompromising is to wish for a better word."
—Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times
So, to get back to that City Paper piece, SUPPORT DISTRICT VINYL BY FIGHTING AMONG(ST) YOURSELVES! In the comments, please.
