by Edith Pollet
So were you all wearing your ghost, witch and other scary costumes last night? For some musicians, Halloween is just like any other day. Let's take a look at some of our favorite stars who like being disguised on stage....
1. David Bowie in his younger years:
2. The members of Kiss, with their ever-present make-up:
3. Marilyn Manson, who always scares the parents:
4. The Horrors may not be in disguises, but they certainly have a particular sense of style:
5. As do the Class of 1984, with their hairdos:
6. The Vinny Club as Bono in his early days:
7. Daft Punk wears their mysterious helmets:
8. From France, the popular band Marcel et son Orchestre joins in the fun with extravagant outfits:
9. The Hoosiers dress up whether it's Halloween or festival season:
10. Muse drummer, Dominic Howard, loves his Spiderman outfit too:
11. In a video, Kurt Cobain dons a dress and Dave Grohl wears a bra on stage.
12. And finally, Metronomy mixes it up with green paint in another video.
Check these bands live to absorb their music and witness firsthand their creativity and originality. And here's hoping that we will see Barack Obama with a presidential costume in a few days.
You can reach Edith here or you can read about her adventures in Dublin here.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Halloween for musicians
Something Like Death
by Emma Bartholomew
I have a new metaphor for death she said over breakfast
that morning – do you want to hear it?
Sure, I said.
Well death, she said, reminds me of a vacuum, when
you suck up bugs. They get caught –
she scraped her spoon around the bowl –
and it’s terrifying, swirling, horribly loud.
And that’s death? I ask.
And then – she continues – then they are in heaven
inside the vacuum because they are surrounded by food.
That’s kind of like flushing goldfish, I said, when
they’re sucked down the swirling bowl
but end up in the ocean.
Yeah but the fish are already dead, she said.
Isn’t that the point? I ask – aren’t we talking about death>
She sipped her milk and smiled:
that’s only half of it.
Contact Emma here.
The Roadie
by Brittany Ober
Callia and I drove 4 ½ hours to Albany
to see our favorite band for the 6th time
that year, and we cheered for drum tech
Matt Romano and Richard, the tour manager,
because after so many shows, it’s easy
to memorize a few more names. But I never knew
what to call the lead roadie. He always appeared
on stage 30 minutes before the set began
and looked like he could be 27
or 53—strong-skinny arms, clean-shaven
face, long eyelashes, and capable hands.
I stood in the front row and pretended I didn’t notice
the switches he checked with his foot or the pedals
he duct-taped into precise position. I pretended
I did not love seeing his face as much
as the lead singer’s: the roadie means business,
he means a job well done, he means a life
free on the record-label-determined road,
he means the girlfriend crying back at home,
he means the band will be here soon.
I acted like I did not fantasize
about his hands and feet
quietly moving over me in his bunk
on the tour van. It wasn’t hard.
We never made eye contact.
You can reach Brittany here.
Election '08: Supporting Barack Obama
by Jen Epting
Elections are intense events, particularly recent elections in America. Very few people are mildly bothered by the outcome; for many of us, our hopes and dreams and hearts are tied to the results. When I think about the possibility of John McCain winning the election on Tuesday night, my chest gets tight and I start to feel desperate in the way one does when she chooses to hope for something new and gets handed a slice of the SAME OLD instead.
That’s what happened four years ago.
After swearing up and down to my foreign and domestic friends that we couldn’t possibly re-elect the idiot that had been running the country, there he was, stealing the election yet again. I fell asleep late that night with the TV still on in my sister’s room and woke up around 4am to see the tickers running across the bottom of the screen, declaring victory in the wrong direction. I remember wanted to sleep for four years. I remember that we all wore black to work for the next week. I remember that I moved abroad and spoke the word “American” more quietly and tried my best to be open-minded and non-threatening. I was one girl trying to keep her finger in the leaky dyke of American foreign policy.
Here is what I love about America: quick smiles and the penchant to dream, an appreciation for good work, and a capacity to do great things.
Here is what I don’t: favoring defensiveness over diplomacy, mismanaging strength, smugness.
When I imagine Barack Obama winning the election on Tuesday night, it feels like the equivalent of a public declaration of love, a red carpet rolled out towards the future, and so much pride that I can’t contain it. I am hesitant to even allow myself the image because we’ve been burned so badly before, and yet I am optimistic because I have never before seen Americans as active and motivated as we have over the past few months.
It is inspiring to me to see this individual rally so many people behind him, to speak so eloquently about our future and the possibilities that lie ahead. I know we are witnessing history, I know this is a time I will always remember and speak to my children and grandchildren about. Potential for greatness is so close, I can taste it.
But it’s never over until it’s over. And so for that, here’s a wish for Tuesday: may the best man win.
Jen will be eagerly awaiting the election results in Brooklyn, where she lives. She writes on a somewhat regular basis here. Email her here.
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