Tag Archives: larry clark



I’m looking forward to seeing CNN and Mass Appeal’s Fresh Dressed when it hits Vimeo at the end of the month (and I go through the inevitable exasperating process of finding a proxy that isn’t part of some baby-eating botnet in order to rent it). The clip below has some good Dapper Dan and Shirt Kings talk with Phade and Nas, and I’ll admit to being oblivious that there really is a man called Willie Esco (who the gentleman behind the Coogi reboot) — I thought that the was named after some Nas alter-ego from when he put out two albums in one year and I wasn’t paying attention properly. Is Sir Benni Miles a real guy too? I would merrily Kickstarter the hell out of a 30 For 30 series of two-hour explorations of late 1990s rap gear. The Damani Dada episode could feature Latrell Sprewell and Chris Webber (in fact, Webber talking his way through how he managed to go from Nike Air CWs to chromed-out Dada shoes in seven years would be a fascinating standalone). Phade seems to have a documentary called Never Phaded coming soon too that was put together after the recent Supreme and Stüssy collaborations.

With it being the 20th anniversary of Kids, Larry Clark’s classic butterscotch-smelling, heavy-flowing morality tale, the internet has been heavy with the trivia we already knew. I hadn’t spotted this brief Javier Nunez interview that was filmed in Tokyo and upped a year or so ago, or — if you can deal with the hosts cackling like they did Whip-Its, this Cutting Room Movie Podcast chat with Leo Fitzpatrick. Nunez being genuinely out for the count for Kids’ ending, and the story of how Fitzpatrick nearly lost a limb are just a couple of the jewels that emerge from these conversations.



Kickstarter culture, an anniversary celebration of no significant number for pretty much everything important, hunger for content and anyone coming of age during the 1990s getting their expendable income together means that things I’ve discussed here before are the subject of movies, documentaries, big books and exhibitions. It’s a great thing too. The current Larry Clark print sale at Simon Lee Gallery meant that I could grab a piece of the shoots that informed how I dressed back in the day but it was also an excuse to buy some smut too (which Instagram’s all-seeing eye snatched from my feed). Apparently there’s still a few good shots up for grabs in that wooden crate. I read about The Kids Film a few weeks back – Hamilton Harris‘s documentary on the making of the film and its aftermath (encouraged by the popularity of Caroline Rothstein’s Legends Never Die), with Clark helping as a producer and The Screen Feed ran an interview with Harris about the project last week that’s worth reading.


Soon, orgies of unofficial branding on tees will be fully played, but Boiler Room and Young Turks went in with this collection of logos akin to the late 1999 labels feature from The Face. That grid depicts plenty of Sports Direct favourites — once exotic and prized, but now licensed out for twenty two quid a pop. There’s a couple of ones that kept the flame burning in there too. If you caught the Budgie episode of Boiler Room’s Collections broadcasts then you’ll know that this 45 King episode is going to be heavy too.


Edson is the connoisseur’s connoisseur when it comes to music and clothes and he’s out to cause a baby boom with Luffie Duffie 3 — the last two instalments went in with the slow jams and this one is MOP inverted — smooth never rugged. That Parra cover art is serious too. This goes out on the 5th and you know the Patta squad will christen it the right way.



For the most part, graffiti magazines aren’t very good at all. It’s all well and good documenting the temporary, but the internet does a damned good job of logging ups in realtime. Plus I’m embittered at the £10 a time I spent in Tower Records on luridly logo’d foreign language, sporadically published ‘zines that were just scanned photos. You can do a lot more with a magazine than much of what’s out there and it can be done without dry snitching or lapsing into street art tedium. I’m more interested as to what goes on in the minds of the weirdos addicted to damage and On the Go (which is also the name of “Toronto’s #1 Commuter Magazine”), 12oz Prophet and Life Sucks Die all delivered their own unique interpretation of the hard-core nature of the scene. Now the UK’s own Hurt You Bad has stepped into the arena, their “Graffiti magazine without graffiti in it” mission statement is bound to make traditionalists slate HYB with their own “art fag” slur, but it’s actually a great read. No drips, no posed entries through holes in fences…none of that. But there is plastic surgery on a pig’s head, a really good SMART Crew interview, a chat with a writer who’s inside for cocaine trafficking, lots of good photography, Horfe’s work, me talking about the Beastmaster poster and a really big explosion at the very end. There’s extremities and obsessions at the core and you should pick it up. The digital world is spilling onto paper in one big inky gaping yawn in an effort to prove that it’s “for real” but more often than not, a Richey Edwards style self-harm episode would be more engaging. HYB however, has an agenda, chapters with fancy titles (fancy titles require fancy coffee) and all sorts of grown up stuff that proves they’re about more than just blog slander. It’s worth supporting.

While you’re supporting Hurt You Bad and anything else that benefits from everyone’s favorite miserable subculture, spare a thought for those inside for it — OKER’S 24 month sentence means his family won’t have him around for Christmas. Pure Evil Gallery is selling these prints and pieces to fund his nearest and dearest over the coming months. Murmur don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time all you like but bear in mind that burglars get equivalent or lesser sentences and a man (already on a suspended jail term) who punched and paralysed a man in an unprovoked assault got 34 months. Punishment’s part of graffiti you need to accept — especially if you’re a grown up, but there’s better uses of cells than filling them with people with a pathological predilection for writing on stuff. Fairey deserves more substantial sentence for that piece of shit opposite Nike’s 1948 store in east London and whoever was involved in that godawful Microsoft mural that recently went up — from the PR company to the painters — should be punished to the fullest extent of the law. A crackdown on street art and on-the-spot fines for tourists standing in the middle of the road with iPhones held aloft taking snaps of street art should be implemented, with doors kicked in and devices confiscated for containing street art tour apps.

Thanks to my buddies at First We Feast (best new website of the year) put me onto the 2013 opening of a Shake Shack in Covent Garden. There’s room in my heart for that place’s concretes, burgers and dog biscuits in a London setting. Seeing as the NYC branches are hardly cheap, I’m assuming that the dollar to pound conversion won’t be as startling as say, Chipotle, when it arrived on these shores. Crinkle cut fries stay winning too. This and Balthazar (when brands are paying for breakfast) will make this tourist trap area worth the effort spent swearing at the living, grinning, faux chirpy living tunnel of flesh that is the gauntlet run of charity predators on exiting the train station.

There’s a new Larry Clark film out and you can watch it right now, because Larry and the studio system don’t get on (lest we forget, Clark ended up choking a man who was meant to bring Ken Park — never released in the UK — over here). Having read some reviews from the Rome screening a couple of weekends ago, I expected the usual distributor limbo, but we have access to it immediately. Marfa Girl has skateboarding, woozy amateur performances, topless teenagers, an awesome babbling bird, some sex scenes, an interesting soundtrack, a gratuitous female toilet sequence (Clark’s own kind of streaming), some restrained melodrama, guns, a cast of unknowns and some beautiful cinematography (from David Newbert). It’s curious that, given free rein to do as he pleases without industry interference, everyone’s favourite documenter of casual deviancy, doesn’t make something particularly explicit (well, by his own jazzy precedents) and instead focuses on spirituality and very small-town eccentricities. You can watch it for $5.99 (which lets you have access to it for 24 hours) right here as a stream. If you like Larry’s work (does anyone else think James Woods’ performance in Another Day in Paradise is a career high?), you need to watch it. If you don’t, it’s not going to convince you. I liked it. This NOWNESS interview with the Larry Clark is well worth watching too.


Copywriting season is upon me, so no 1000 word wanderings from me today. Apologies if you were looking to get lost in a rant. I’m guilty of hypocrisy when it comes to HBO’s ‘How To Make It In America’ because I keep watching it. I watch it on Megavideo, so I assume I don’t add to the viewing figures, but I’m talking about it here, so even the piracy equals promotion. Louis Guzman, Larry Clark alumni James Ransone, Eli Gessner on consultancy and Joey Pants as a guest star, plus that Earsnot cameo are all winners. Gina Gershon is still beautiful plus there’s plenty of casual nudity, but it’s all so douchey. There’s only a very thin line between print tees in limited numbers, hand-wringing blog hustles and the fixation with the material things, and Ed Hardy tees, flip-flop clad hi-fiving, bootcut denim bro-isms. The industry’s douchey. It just thinks it isn’t because it owns some Medicom toys. The show is a Sex in the City that uses Google reader and wears Dunks. Viral videos! Pop up stores! It tries to use credible reference points creating a jarring clash between realism and cartoonish lead character plots — like Bob Hoskins and Roger Rabbit or Pete and his Dragon.

It’s fluff, but why spend all that HBO loot but base it around two chancers peddling designs that look like TapouT? Sixteen years ago, you’d get giddy at a split-second Supreme or Zoo York shirt sighting in Larry Clark’s ‘Kids’ (itself a heavy-handed parable, but an endlessly quotable slab of big city grimness that could be a skatier Jack Chick tract) or the stray box sticker on the ultra-dated ‘Hackers’ released the same year. Now the brands and locations are all over your cable channel and monitor. Shouts to the consultants — shame about the show. Like ‘Entourage’ it’s just dopey life lessons clad in a hipster uniform — ‘Highway To Heaven’ in loomed selvedge denim. On the ‘Kids’ topic, to pad out this anemic blog entry, here’s the Lynn Hirschberg (Courtney Love’s favourite journalist) ‘New York’ magazine feature, ‘The Kids Aren’t Alright’ from June 1995 that profiles Larry Clark, Harmony Korine and their relationship with Miramax at the time of the film’s release. I wish I’d kept the Daily Mail cover story call to ban the film.

There’s a whole essay to be written on Steven Seagal’s jackets, but during his zen eco-warrior phase his outerwear reached its apex. This Buckskin jacket from a cinematic game of slaps that just trumps Goldblum’s humiliation in ‘Deep Cover’ — the beating of a rowdy bigot in ‘On Deadly Ground’ for his bullying of an area native — sold last year for just $1,216 dollars. it was was pointed out to me by my buddy Dave, that’s it’s at least third cheaper than an RRL version would be. There’s tassels and embroidery aplenty. According to the auction, it was a gift from Seagal that might not have been the one used during that bar room altercation, but fuck it. For that money, the scope for waddling around, squinting, quoting the “What does it take to change the essence of a man?” line and abusing friends and family into spiritual change was worth the risk. This is heritage looks and the boom for native American prints on a hundred, thousand zillion.


What’s the point of getting up in the morning? You could get thrown over the dashboard of a speeding car on the way to grab provisions, go into a coma for the rest of the year and not miss a damned thing. That’s pretty frightening. It’s also a grand overstatement —there’s lots to look forward over the next year. Put down those pills and close that tab that’s open on alt.sucide.methods. Get involved with these things…


Iron Mike’s autobiography might be MIA at the moment, but Tyson’s sounding mighty healthy on both Twitter and in the real world. He’s looking a little leaner and he’s got an Animal Planet show; ‘Taking On Tyson’ which seems to be a pigeon racing reality show, with Tyson traveling the world (including Scotland) to discuss his feathered friends. If that doesn’t appeal to you, we’re not on the same wavelength. Kudos to whoever pitched it in to the network too…it probably wasn’t an easy sell. This show debuts on TV Stateside in March.


While the Dave Carney ‘Boob’ book is still inexplicably hard-to-obtain, there’s a whole documentary on Big Brother magazine in the making. ‘The Big Brother Memoir: A Stupid Skateboard Magazine’ may well be an extension of the footage posted on the Jackass site a few years back and it’ll probably disappear into the 24 month limbo that skate-related documentaries have a habit of slipping into but it’ll be worth the wait. There’s a lot of magazines dropping these days, but which ones have any personality? Big Brother in its heyday was absolutely untouchable and an arguable influence on the next wave of pretty much everything for those who experienced it. You already knew about these PDFs, didn’t you?


The current wave of rap-related viral videos seems to be built on addressing rumours and interview arguments. Boring. araabMUZIK videos are hypnotic. The MVP of the MPC is the most interesting to watch at work, and while he isn’t the first to make similar sounds (he sounds like the hyperactive child of Mannie, Justin and prime Heatmakerz), Lex Luger seemed to be…ummm…”inspired” by his work when he gave Jay and ‘Ye a track over which they inexplicably opted to rap like they’d had a Lemsip overdose instead of the requisite H.A.M. levels (at least it caused Busta to drop his annoying date rape flow for 2-minutes). araabMUZIK’s thrash metal team up was the least excruciating hip-hop and metal union since Faith No More & Boo-Yaa back in 1993, another recent video sees him tearing through live beat making with a nifty black-on-black Dipset piece around his neck—at 08:37 he unleashes the kind of drama music that’ll make you want to strike a stranger. What exactly is in that cup?


Stacy Gueraseva’s book on Def Jam five years ago was a must-buy, and on a glossier and officially licensed level, the Rizzoli ’25 Years of Def Jam’ effort should be great too. Reuniting Dan Charnas (writer of the essential ‘The Big Payback’ ) with old mentor Bill Adler, there’s no cover or in-depth information as of yet regarding cover art or content other than its hardback status and September release date. Will it have a whole chapter on Jayo Felony? Highly doubtful.


Larry Clark’s ‘What do you do for fun?’ exhibition opens at the Simon Lee Gallery on February 10th. It should make up for missing the ‘Kiss the Past Hello’ show in Paris last year, and from a preview on the Simon Lee site, it’s significantly more wide-ranging than the ‘Los Angeles 2003-2006’ offerings at the same space in early 2008. It’s unknown as to whether the newly unearthed silent ‘Tulsa’ 16mm film will accompany it (supposedly, the movie was recently limited to a run of 5 DVD copies).


Vasque never really went anywhere, but for the fans, there’s two versions of this boot—the current old man hikers and weird trainer hybrids and the ones you used to eye up in the Source. The preoccupation with hiking gear is unlikely to go anytime soon so we might as well have the best and I suspect my homie Mr. Ronnie Fieg—a Vasque boot superfan and the David Z frontman for special projects—will do something with the Sundowner or Super Hiker, even if they’re not Italian made any more like they were in the early ’90s. The brand’s attempt to break the UK market a few years back via some brash lad-mag ads remains an odd move.


Big name magazine launches can be sheer wankery, but ‘PORT’ looks promising. Editor Dan Crowe’s Zembla literary magazine was a superb effort, and while Port’s emphasis seems to be style, there’s plenty of substance promised for its March launch. My days of reading magazines cover-to-cover seem to be numbered, but hopefully this one might restore my papery OCD. I just want to pick up something authoritative. It has a poetry editor and Daniel Day-Lewis writing an essay on Gaza. That’s enough to confer investigation, and it launches at a point when iPad compatibility is more than a rushed afterthought too.


This picture from the new Palace line is straight swaggerjacked from the Hideout’s site. I remember happy days of local skate shops stocking a rail bought seemingly at random from New Deal or Shiner, and simply buying the most eyecatching tee, complete with a barely concealed Hanes (or far, far worse in the thickness stakes). This New York Giants style effort is some no-nonsense branding that harks back to happy days of Holmes and many that went before.


Yes, that really was the name of the chimp taught a form of sign language decades ago, who apparently unleashed the 16-word sentence through these gestures, “Give orange me give eat orange me eat orange give me eat orange give me you.” Mired in debate, it served to reinforce our relationship with our simian neighbours. ‘Project Nim,’ directed by James Marsh (the man behind ‘Man on Wire’ —a documentary that left me cold), tells the story of the monkey raised as a human, and the byproduct of the experiment. As a chimp superfan, I can’t wait to see it. After showing at Sundance days ago, HBO swiftly picked it up.


Just when outdoorsy screwfaces prove they’re here to stay temporarily, former Number (N)ine kingpin Takahiro Miyashita’s The Soloist project keeps on innovating in a weird way and the S/S 2011 collection is somewhere between woodland hipster buffoon, Victorian tinker, Hoth reconnaissance, the twins from ‘Rad’ and something far more innovative. Accompanying gear with New Balances, teaming with Oliver Peoples and using some very luxurious fabrics is a winner—as is Takahiro’s leisurely pace. While everyone else has let the cat out the bag for the whole year. Who knows what he’s got planned for the colder months?


Avant-garde film director, writer, musician and artist Jonas Mekas is 87 years old and he’s still got more ideas and vanguard spirit than you. Don’t feel bad. He’s a genius. ‘Walden’ is a sprawling, brilliant headache of a film and he’s back after six years with an 8MM film experiment and ‘Sleepless Nights Stories’ which seems to have Björk and Harmony Korine involved too. That’s as much as we know.


Adam Kimmel’s been peddling terrifyingly expensive workwear that’s actually very wearable, plus something significantly sharper for a while now, so his alliance with Carhartt sounded pretty natural. A.P.C. and SOPHNET have done big things with the brand (though in the case of the latest SOPH, I’m not looking to dress like a train driver from the 1920s), but from shots on the Hideout’s blog, it looks significantly more cohesive and wearable as a total look. There’s pocket tees, three cashmere versions of the watch cap, but the jacket in the picture here is the one for me. It’ll terrorise your credit card when it drops, but if you slept on the Junya jacket early last year this might cheer you up. Initial reports indicate that the line is non-smedium.


Boiler Room is awesome on a number of levels. As I drop out the loop, FACT magazine and Boiler Room’s transmissions are something of a lifeline. USTREAM is often misused. For every transmitted sexual act, live suicide or other watchably grand gesture, there’s a drivel tsunami on the broadcast front. Team Boiler Room keep the strong lineups coming every Tuesday at 8…you too can experience Dalston as you imagine it to be, without having to deal with the everyday reality and twattery of the area. The SWAMP 81 label gets a showcase on Tuesday and I’ve been told there’s some serious guests booked for the rest of the year too.



I watched Joel Schumacher’s adaptation of Nick McDonell’s ‘Twelve’ recently and loathed it. If there’s a teen drama with a hint of grit, I’m fully down, but this was nonsense that hovered between fantasy and realism, before slipping over and choking on its own vomit. It was an unsuccessful experiment, and one that made me appreciate Roger Avary’s ‘The Rules of Attraction’ a great deal more. You’d think dead-eyed rich kids getting up to no good would be a no-brainer, but it frequently misfires on the basis that the entire cast are invariably totally unlikeable. I can’t tolerate the wobbling camera any more either.

I want beauty on my screen, even if it’s in the ugliest setting—I enjoyed seeing Coppola unleash the visual pyrotechnics again on the melodramatic ‘Tetro’, even if critics claiming it’s his best since 1979 omit the mighty ‘Rumble Fish’ (on which ‘Tetro’ bears many similarities) and ‘The Outsiders’. ‘Animal Kingdom’ made Melbourne’s underworld look pretty without compromising on the intensity. Accessible equipment doesn’t need to eliminate the art of cinematography. Twin a lo-fi look—albeit one with a digital sheen—with Larry Clark-lite sex and narcotics, and you’re in trouble. Larry Clark’s knack for composure means he can create a memorable shot in the gnarliest of circumstances too, and true-to-form, he’s stirring up a controversy in Paris right now as under-18s are getting denied entrance to his new exhibition, if they’re actually older than some of the exhibited subjects. I’m keen to see how Larry’s interpretation of Neil Jordan’s ‘Mona Lisa’ turns out.

That, plus Verbal and Yoon’s Runaways cover version (I recommend ‘The Runaways’ to anyone who’s interested in that era—it surpasses ‘What We Do Is Secret’ in the band biopic stakes) got me thinking about the golden age of teen flicks (I claim that 1979-1981 was a pretty good vintage) once again. I’ve discussed it here before, extolling the virtues of ‘Over the Edge’, ‘Times Square’, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. the Fabulous Stains’, ‘Pixote’ and ‘Christiane F.’ but my lack of a scanner stopped me from upping what I think is the finest love letter to a cult movie ever written—Sarah Jacobson’s ‘1997 Grand Royal article on ‘…the Fabulous Stains’, entitled ‘Why They Didn’t Put Out’.

Sarah championed Riot Grrrrl on movies as both a journalist and filmmaker. Sadly, she passed away in 2004, but her dedication to an barely released 1981 movie that attempted to capture the new wave of feminist rock with a touch of Runaways and Go-Go’s in the plot, plus heavy testosterone in the form of a curious supergroup made of Pistols and Clash members with Ray Winstone as the vocalist. Sarah directed a nice little documentary about the movie too, effectively enlightening a snowballing cult audience who may well have been disappointed by the actual execution of the film. It’s a noble effort, well performed (witness Winstone thump Fee Waybill of the Tubes in the face for real), but for all the ladies and excess makeup, it’s heavy-handed in the extreme.

After years of hunts for copies of a friend’s VHS copy of a friend’s copy of a copy from a convention of a brother’s friend’s copy from New Wave Theater back in the ’80s, Rhino putting it out on DVD a few years back felt curiously anticlimactic. The lack of this documentary as an extra due to rights issues was sad, and the Grand Royal piece should have been included too in a Criterion style. Worse still, Sarah Jacobson’s absence to appreciate the fruits of her cheerleading made this long-overdue package’s arrival bittersweet. The story behind the film is a lot better than the film itself, and the article’s soundbite-heavy approach makes it a necessary read if you’ve got a passing interest in the film or any of the subcultures it sucks up in its attempts to channel a rebel zeitgeist.

Because I don’t eff with Tumblr, because they’re mostly excuses for posers to demonstrate how much of a pseudo-intellectual idiot they are and how quick their right-click forefinger is on Google Images is, like chucking extra images down here. Two of my favourite Nike-related images this time. This Friedman Bad Brains shot (used on the ‘Omega Sessions’ release) taken in 1980 is legendary for more than Darryl Jenifer’s Dr. Know’s (Thanks for the correction Nick) footwear. For years I thought they were Blazers, but is that malnourished swoosh not that of the legendary Franchise? And loosely tied into this talk of Riot Grrrl, the homie Sharmadean’s opening of Bleach a hair salon inside the WAH! space used Courtney and Lil’ Kim on the one-year anniversary and launch flyer, Kimberley looked cool on the cover of ‘Hardcore’, but her Air Max 95s look in the 1995 press shot for Junior M.A.F.I.A. is crazy underrated.

In the scanned piece above, boy genius Ben Fogelnest (of Squirt TV fame) shouts out ‘Thurston Moore’s Rap Damage’ that short film gets triple props beyond the Sonic Youth affiliations for having the legendary Maurice Menares guest star. Those who’ve met him can testify that he’s a very funny man. He was equally amusing in 1991.


Extra-curricular copy-writing has prevented this entry from being anything approaching conceptual. It’s just a mindspray of things currently exciting me at this very moment in time. Things that hype me, even though this isn’t a hype blog, unless you’re very, very odd. Like me. Does that make it a neo-hype site? Fuck knows. This began life as a rant about the launch of the Pretty Green store on Carnaby Street, which is fitting, since the gear is as credible as a rasta wig/hate combination from the tat stores a few doors down. If wearing a fisherman’s hat like Lennon and a twatty little scarf is your idea of style, you’re beyond help. Same goes for Kasabian fans. Knobheads from Leicester play at abstraction and fail, because they’re abysmal. Bet they get a guest line with Pretty Green next year.

And breathe.

What’s good out there that can restore the disturbance in the force (incidentally — everyone collaborating with Lucasfilm is 13 years too late — the airlock closed just after they botched the Return of the Jedi conclusion)? Plenty of things. The impending Guillermo del Toro remake of ’70s TV-movie ‘Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark’ is amassing interest after initial redux eye-rolling. It’s not a Platinum Dunes creation, and del Toro knows how to give you chills {‘The Devil’s Backbone’ remains underrated, despite the plaudits – one of the best ghost stories ever filmed). If you’ve never seen the original, it’s a curiously mean-spirited tale of a woman tormented by walnut-headed monkey demons, Cheap, grim and very, very disturbing. The teaser footage of the remake reportedly made a roomful of nerds shit themselves, and seeing as comic book artist Troy Nixey is at the helm, the poster’s cool too. An “R’ rating just for being frightening? This could match the phenomenal ‘Drag Me To Hell’ next year. Speaking of nightmarish TV -movies, ‘Bobby’ from 1977’s ‘Dead of Night’ was all shades of wrong too.

Preoccupied with the crazier end of the skate spectrum this weekend, it was a good time to dredge up some Sean Sheffey footage to re-watch. In the process I found out that not only did crazy Mark “Gator” Rogowski (eff that Anthony shit) go buckwild that fateful day in 1991, a teenager called Gator Collet, who changed his name by deed poll from Jeremy in tribute to Mark, was put away for murder in 1993 too. Now that’s taking idol emulation to the next level. The mad skater obsession is timely, as the Antwuan Dixon Epicly Later’d goes live on VBS next week. In honour of Antwuan, and Rogowski’s ill-fated conversion, the best of both worlds was manifested in the legendary Lennie Kirk, whose 1991 Alien Workshop ‘Time Code’ section is classic and reputedly the reason for his sudden switch to christianity. According to legend, Lennie awoke from the dumpster head crack at 0:35 born again like Mark Gottlieb in ‘Neighbours’ when he went god bothering after a blow to the noggin. Lennie got over it and reportedly robbed a taxi driver with a sawn-off. He’s in prison but stays a hero in my eyes, and this gospel-soundtracked clip remains timeless. Stay up, Lennie.

The ’30 for 30′ ESPN rollout hit new heights with Jeff Tremaine’s ‘The Birth of Big Air’ documentary, produced by Spike Jonze about another berserker — Mat Hoffman. That should be online on this YouTube channel very soon for the non-US fanboys and girls.

Over the last week I’ve realised there’s some fundamental omissions to recent entries here with regards to Larry Clark, burgers and UK -brands and their t-shirts. So consider the following a postscript of sorts.

Forget the speculation. The Meatwagon does offer the best burger in the UK by a serious distance. On some recon regarding an upcoming BBQ event, work and burger love collided. The ‘Hippy’ burger that was on sale in their tucked-away Peckham industrial estate location on friday was a fine reproduction of an Animal-Style Double-Double at In-N-Out, fried with mustard and the basic cheeseburger was a work of art too. It might even be one of the best burgers I’ve ever eaten. As ‘Free Bird’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd began to play on the van’s stereo as I swallowed the last mouthful, for a few brief seconds, all was right with the world. This burger you cannot change. Check the interview with Yianni, the man behind the van here. He really is very serious about beef and buns.

In talking about Brits and t-shirts, the always-ace Original Store just dropped their ‘Black Cowboy’ tee with the mighty Faithfanzine. Nice design, and the prospect of a free mix CD’s a winner too. A great expansion from Farley and company after their Firmament Boy’s Own shirts came and went in Berlin last year. Faithfanzine was always a great read, as was the Boy’s Own anthology. Gentleman and scholar Mr Jason Jules’s piece on Cuts in Soho was a good inclusion too. For some reason Farley and company weather the retrospective storm by staying open-minded, whereas the Factory-bores up north managed the impossible, and made Joy Division seem dull just by NEVER SHUTTING THE FUCK UP ABOUT THE HACIENDA. Thus projects like this neatly sidestep the shittiness of backward-thinking Pretty Green projects and stay gold. I miss the FUC51 blog already, but their final entry last month was a good ‘un —

We’re off. It’s been real, thanks for the memories. Remember back in January? The posts were stronger and cost £15 to read, and hardly any fucker used to come here. Needless to say, those that did have all got book deals now.

DJ Muro’s King Inc. Digger Mart remains one of the most accurate electronic reproductions of random Tokyo rap-related shopping experiences. I’ve revisited since my last blog entry on it to coincide with the news that DJ Muro mixes might be a whole lot easier to find on these shores in coming months. A couple of good buddies seem to be involved in the European release of some upcoming goodness. Muro and Savage might be the minds behind my favourite collaborations, but Digger Mart always has something to make me double take. Beyond the TLC longbox and Dolemite VHS collection, personal picks this time were the Troop LL Cool J releases, a security t-shirt for an Earth, Wind & Fire show, a Budweiser plaid shirt, a paisley Hilfiger number and a Tommy Boy cap with a suede peak. I love Digger Mart.

After the ‘Kids’ post I realised I’d forgotten to mention the talking heads footage that’s been on YouTube for a couple of years regarding the film’s production. I’m guessing it was taken from the 2003 ‘Larry Clark, Great American Rebel’ documentary. On a ‘Kids’ tip, I ignored Mac Miller too long for his backpacks, talk of reissued shoes and box logo stickers all up in the videos. Part of a generation seemingly steeped in the early ’90s, I can’t sleep any more. The current output got the “Oh shit! It’s not even wack” Dame Dash reaction from me. His music dwarfs the crossover sounds currently blowing up in the UK. In one mixtape cut this kid ethers anything by the inexplicably popular, but always unlistenable Professor Green (was that F64 a fluke or what?) or Example. And the clown Evening Standard journalist who compared Plan fucking B to Smokey Robinson needs a chin-check. Mac’s ‘K.I.D.S’ mixtape, due out in mid-August looks to be laden with imagery and samples from the 1995 film. Yelawolf and Mac have soundtracked some warm weather this year. Is it whiteboy day?


Though it’s a sledgehammer moral tale, ‘Kids’ was the one to grab a pirate copy of before its eventual official UK DVD and VHS release in 1999. Remember the swiftly made up distributor (Shining Excalibur Films) made to make some scrilla for Miramax despite mounting controversy, including some extensive Daily Mail coverage? Freeze framing some Supreme and Zoo York (note the same same blink-an-you’ll-miss-the-box-logo frames in the ‘Supreme: Downtown New York Skate Culture’ book)? Folk Implosion’s minor hit with a track that wasn’t in the actual film? The lack of Fat Beats endorsed classics on the soundtrack – and who was Lo-Down, contributing the mysterious ‘Mad Fright Night’? Wanting a Shorty’s tee as much as any of the aforementioned skate brands? Classic movie. Seeing Rosario for the first time? It needs a double disc reissue with commentary.

There’s evidently a lot of stories behind that film. It’s notable just how linear that narrative was. Harmony must’ve made some compromises. ‘Gummo’ took it further, but just as Larry Clark’s brilliantly grim adaptation of Eddie Little’s ‘Another Day in Paradise'(good to see Vincent Kartheiser getting his long deserved dues in ‘Mad Men’ – Natasha Gregson Wagner deserves hers) warrants reappraisal, folk still sleep on the delirious masterpiece that is ‘Julien Donkey-Boy’. It’s still odd that ‘Ken Park’ still remains unreleased in the UK after 8 years following Clark’s punch up with the distributor.

‘Mister Lonely’ was hard work, but nothing was as hard-to-enjoy as Clark’s crappy ‘Teenage Caveman’ remake – though you need to see his short film ‘Impaled’ from the ‘Destricted’ anthology, the anti-porn porno, and an expose of the clinical nature of today’s digitally filmed cheap thrills. Larry’s still flirting with the mainstream – he’s attached to a ‘Mona Lisa’ remake for 2011 at the moment, though that’s subject to change. And Harmony? He just seems to get odder.

Ti West’s ‘House Of The Devil’ was a noble attempt to emulate the video chills a generation grew up with, but Harmony Korine’s ‘Trash Humpers’ is the stuff of nightmares. A shrieking, murderous, distorted act of transgressive art, it gets the look of a discarded VHS depicting freeform oddities just right. That Korine dabbled with the idea of leaving it on a roadside is a testament to his welcome indulgence at a time when we’re assailed with calculated viral campaigns to bring the independent approach to the big screen. The notion of a “found film” is a strong one, but you can’t blame the director for sending it to the festivals. The trailer is appropriately disturbing, and those lo-fi, home edit fonts are always a winner.

It’s interesting that the following part of Korine’s ‘Kids’ script was never filmed – it’s a curious flashback scene that would throw the feel of the film in a major way. Maybe that’s what the writer wanted. It’s best that it was never included, and occurs just after the amassed teens hurl abuse at the gay couple in Washington Square Park. It’s not dissimilar to the carnage that opens Romano Scavolini’s deranged ‘Nightmare In a Damaged Brain.’ From heavy-handed social realism to pseudo-slasher – that’s quite a leap. R.I.P. Harold Hunter and Justin Pierce.

Telly is sitting away on the cement benches under the tree. He is talking to Misha.

How can you hang out with Casper? He’s such a jerk.

You think so?

Yeah. I’ve always hated that kid. He used to eat glue in like seventh grade.

He still does.

I hate ’em.

It’s not his fault. He had a hard life.


You’ve heard the stories right?



Back in time. Casper is a little boy, age 11. He is walking down the sidewalk with a lunch box and a “Casper the Friendly Ghost” T-shirt. He is wearing his hat on backwards.

Music accompanies this entire episode.

Well, one day Casper had a stomachache and he got permission from his teacher to leave school early and go home.

Casper walks up to a nice middle-class home, it could be in Queens or Brooklyn, it doesn’t matter. He pulls out a key and opens the door. He enters his home.


The house is dark. Plastic on all the furniture. A velvet picture of Christ is hanging on the wall in the hallway. Very simple and plain, a generic adobe.

Casper enters his house and flips on a lightswitch.

So he walks into his house and hears some strange noises.

The sounds of his mother screaming from upstairs.

(screaming from upstairs)
Get away! Get away! Help! You monster! Please help!

Casper puts his lunch box down and walks to the first stair to listen to his mother’s screams.

The noises were coming from upstairs. In his parents room.

Casper’s mom continues to scream from upstairs.

So, this freaked the hell out of Casper. He was just a little kid and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Casper moves off the step and runs into the kitchen.

So he ran and got a big knife. The same knife his pops used to cut the turkey on Thanksgiving with.

He opens a drawer full of silverware and pulls out a humongous glistening knife. He picks it up, and it shines on his face.

As his mother screams he looks up at the ceiling with the knife in his hand.

(screaming from upstairs)
Stop! Please stop! Oooh help!

Casper runs up the stairs, he is holding the knife straight out.

So he heard his mom’s screams, and knew that she was in trouble. It sounded like she was getting ready to be killed. Like someone was kicking her in the head.

Casper runs down the hall and opens the door to his parents room.

What he sees is very shocking. His face becomes extremely animated.

Casper’s mom is on the bed. She is completely naked except for a pair of bright red high heel shoes. In between her legs is a man wearing all black, including a black ski mask and motorcycle boots. He is having sex with Casper’s mom. He has her arms pinned down on the bed. He is grunting like a pig.

Casper watches for a moment in awe.

Bitch. You fuckin bitch. Fuckin bitch. Slutty whore.

The man in black slaps Casper’s mom hard on her naked ass.

No! Stop! Get off me!

She is struggling to get loose.

So Casper opened the door and he saw some big guy with a ski mask fucking his mother. What a sight for an 11 year old kid.

Casper runs up to the bed. He climbs on top of the bed with the big knife in the air, all the while the man in black is having sex with his mother. And they don’t even notice Casper at first.

And he goes and jumps on his parent’s bed. And for a second he just looks and watches.

Casper takes his knife and starts stabbing the guy in black, over and over. His mother is kicking and trying to stop him. All the while, she is screaming outrageously and blood is pouring out.

And you know. Casper loved his mom, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. So he started stabbing this guy, over and over. But it was a mistake.

Casper’s mom is kicking Casper as he stabs the man.

Casper is biting his tongue as he stabs the man.

The man falls off the bed and onto the floor.

Casper’s mom is going totally nuts. She is completely naked, with blood all over her body. There is blood all over the sheets. His mom is clawing her face in complete hysterics.

You fuck!!! It’s your father!!! We were playing a game you fuck!!! That’s your father!!! We were just playing!!!

Casper looks very confused as he looks at his naked mother. He has the knife in his hand, and a little blood on his T-shirt and cheek.

Casper’s mom continues to yell at him.

Casper, you fucker!!! Oh, my god!!! Help me God!!!

Casper looks at his mother, then he looks at the dead guy on the floor. He bends down and takes off the mask. It’s his father.

That’s my dad.

You fuck. You killed your father!

So Casper killed his father. He came home with a stomachache and ended up murdering his pops. It was a very embarrassing thing.


Telly is in the same spot talking to Misha.

So that’s why Casper is how he is.

Oh god. That’s horrible.

A quick shot of Casper smoking a blunt and laughing with his friends.


Holy shit. That’s all true?

No. I was just kidding.


I lied. His dad is still alive. He works for the post office.