Category Archives: Music

Dance like nobody’s watching

It won’t come as a surprise to learn that I’m not comfortable dancing. That’s exactly why last year, for my wife’s birthday, I signed us up for dance classes. The gift was not me learning to dance, it was my willingness to put up with the humiliation of taking dance classes.

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The sweet sounds of Pilates

After a recent vacation in Yucatan in which we encountered an alarming number of Hemingway lookalikes loitering shirtless on the beach, I returned to New York resolved that my resemblance to literary figures would end at my Sartrean eyes. I signed up at the local YMCA to join their Pilates classes posthaste.

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Music, fashion, and fascism

I went shopping for jeans during my lunch hour yesterday. I hadn’t visited H&M in years, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that, judging from the low prices and the quality of the fabric, their clothes are now designed to be immediately disposable. While I wasn’t particularly taken by how I looked in their $19.95 jeans, I stuck around a bit longer to listen to the music they were playing. It sounded like light 80s funk, but I suppose it’s a new genre that I’m too uncool to know about.

I shuffled off to Banana Republic, despite knowing that the last pair of jeans I bought there made me look like I was wearing adult diapers (I wasn’t!). The music at the store was a little more exciting, and it occurred to me that by going shopping more often I could catch up on borderline-cool new music without the mortification of being rejected by bouncers. The blue jeans at Banana Republic (is anyone else offended by the name of this store, by the way?) were “pre-stressed,” which I find terribly annoying – Baudrillard has been dead for five years and I had hoped we could all move on. Thankfully, as seems to be the norm, there was a Gap next door.

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A brush with fame

I recently found a classmate on Facebook from the time I went to art school in London back in the early 90s. She was bringing me up to date on some of the people I met there, and she said “and of course Alison Goldfrapp became famous.” My friend was surprised that I hadn’t realized we had gone to school with the lead singer of Goldfrapp. She said she had a story about me and Goldfrapp that she would tell me when she had more time.

I was of course excited, imagining all sorts of fantastic scenarios in which I impressed a young pop star-to-be. A month went by without a word from my friend. Seeing that the band was coming to New York, I emailed her begging to hear the story. I now wish I hadn’t.

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