I am a crooked (wo)man and I’ve walked a crooked mile…what’s that? Oh, I’m just practicing for my inevitable prison crooning after getting pinched for petty larceny aka having some sticky fingers, the same ones that tattooed E.V.I.L. on his brother’s fist (that filthy five! They did nothing to challenge or resist). I mean, that … Continue reading
Last week, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds released their devastatingly beautiful album Ghosteen, inspiring wracking sobs and the discovery of emotions we didn’t even know we still had. Since both your faithful co-founder Emily Colucci and contributor Adam Lehrer are longtime Nick Cave stans, we dried our tears and decided to talk it through … Continue reading
“As I walk these narrow streets where a million passin’ feet have trod before me, with my guitar in my hand, suddenly I realize nobody knows me,” dryly sings Nick Cave in the beginning of “The Singer,” his take on Johnny Cash’s “The Folk Singer” on Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ 1986 cover album … Continue reading
Well hello there, ghosties and ghoulies! Are you feeling creepy crawly? Me too! All I need is a big cup of our World Famous Pumpkin Punch and I’ll be ready to lunge into an audience of hand-waving disciples and kick them in their eager faces with my pointy-toed patent leather shoes, shrieking about reading diaries … Continue reading
“You have to wake up!” Wha wha…what? OH hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams readers and fellow Twin Peaks fanatics! Are you feeling like some hair of the dog and torch songs in the Bang Bang Bar? Me too. Well, let’s check in with The Return Part 6. What the hell is going on? I’m not … Continue reading
Well, I know I promised days ago, faithful Filthy Dreams readers, that I wasn’t going to do a tired old best of list, but Filthy Dreams is nothing if not inconsistent and unpredictable. While I was going to write another “making up for lost time” review of Jordan Wolfson’s show at David Zwirner, I decided … Continue reading
Stumbling, bleary-eyed, back into the outside world, the morning after clubbing isn’t exactly the magic hour. Or at least, not typically. But, Richard Renaldi’s photographic series Manhattan Sunday not only merely captures the still-awake but not-yet-hungover post-clubbing period of 5, 6 or even 9AM, but it also glamorizes it. Continue reading
