Merry Xmas: Kinky Loveliness Redux (Part 5—Gil Wet and Dripping Radiance)

Death of a Beautiful Man Redux (R.I.P. Rocky—We Love You)

I walked into MJ's last night for Rimjob (mightily sad that I'd missed godly Adam Killian the week before) and was glad and astonished to see Mario Cruz (who I spent several years in love with) on one of the go-go pedestals. That happiness quickly dissipated when he told me that Rocky had died last week. I first met Rocky cruising outside a certain scaggy-ass Silverlake Latin fag dive (that I used to frequent) 2 or 3 years ago, but I had been in love with him for years before that via his porn work. He never got his due, but as far as I'm concerned he was always a godly, sublime, awe-inspiringly beautiful man (and his boundlessly beautiful dildo sessions in the archive on Live and Raw will always bear that out). One of the only good things I can see about my time as Ed.-in-Chief at Cybersocket was that I had a magnificently lustrous time speaking to and hanging out with him for the better part of 2 hours one day when he came in on a Rentboy matter. When I told him that I loved seeing him get pummeled by Rod Barry in Getting It Straight, he told me that that hadn't been a good shoot because Rod fucked him as if "he were fucking a pussy," but that Jeff Palmer had given him the most beautiful fuck of his life. I knew that he was a tweaker, but I didn't know that he was positive. Either way, I had always hoped that I might someday get to lick that sublime hole of his. That might sound trite considering, but the fact is that he was a sweet, beautiful, incredible man that I'm so glad I had the pleasure of knowing, and to say that I'll miss him is an understatement of horrific proportions. Rest in peace lovely. We do and will always love you here. xxooxx, B.

Soul Sounds Supreme + The Best Album of 06—The Brilliant Miss Winehouse

I had long been pining for a new Amy Winehouse album, but I could NEVER have anticipated the sublime kaleidoscopic soul killer that is Back to Black. Yes, Frank was lovely (as was Seiji's mighty rethink of "Take the Box"), but it is nothing next to its successor. From the miraculously lustrous and epically pure Tamla/Motown bliss of "Tears Dry on Their Own" (my pick for song of the year, alongside DJ Mitsu the Beats and Ivana Santilli's "Living Love Song" from the other album of the year, Inspiration Exclusives, and quite possibly (don't hate me for saying this—if Gilles has made peace with loving an occasional track of hers, I can too) Mariah + Kanye's "Stay the Night.") to the pensive Shangri-La's melancholy of "Back to Black" to the gently effulgent Scepter snap of "Love is a Losing Game" to the gruff locomotive blues-drenched Stax flavor of "Some Unholy War" to the rapturous cascading Brunswick shimmy of "He Can Only Hold Her," BTB is absolutely, indefatigably fucking ESSENTIAL, plus she admits to having a lifelong dream of becoming a butcher. (And what is it about her makeup these days that keeps reminding me of Adult Net-era Brix Smith?)

Perennial Loves (Part 1): Milo Ventimiglia

While keeping in faggy pop culture mode and reviewing miraculously brilliant quips, I found this list of quotes from the better days of Gilmore Girls. Yes, last season and the current season have been dull and inane, but if you're not willing to admit from these past lines that it was once pure genius, you're a bit of an idiot. It also gives me an excuse to post several old photographs of the perennially beautiful and godly Milo Ventimiglia from back in the day. As for his Heroes, there is something ineffably remarkable about it in a lovely Mai the Psychic Girl sort of way, and I am most certainly addicted to that at the moment as well (even aside from the loveliness of Milo, Santiago Cabrera, + (to a lesser extent) Sendhil Ramamurthry (I do still love my South Asian boys)). It might be true that only I could segue that to a list of verbal bitch-slaps from Gilmore Girls, but dig:

"You're special."
"Like 'stop eating the paste' special?"

"Drink me. I make life more fun. Everybody from a high school kid to a bum on the street knows that."

"I even put a little wine in the pan to keep it from drying out."
"Well who died and made you Sara Moulton?"

"I don't watch that much television. I don't find forensic work as fascinating as the rest of the world."

"I just hit F4 and the num. lock key and the one with the little Apple on it, and it's freakin' out, like it's on acid or something."

"It's times like these that you realize what is truly important in your life. I'm so glad I had all that sex."

"Well who died and made you Hayley Mills?"

"She's so excited."
"She's brainwashed. She's Patty Heart and my mother's the SLA."

"I was Ricardo Montalban's receptionist for six months and he never complained."
"Who?"
"Don't make me hit you."

New Loves (Part 2): "It's Like Betty Crocker + Charles Manson Had a Lovechild, And He's Cooking For Me."

My other new reluctant penchant of late has been a gnawing/begrudging addiction to Bravo's Top Chef—and the lovely-in-an-obvious-white-boy-way Sam Talbot (don't worry I'll get back to my foremost true love for all Latin boys briefly). I'll hold off on my food-culture as aesthetic wallpaper/ideal for living till an imminent other post, but will say that TC is still a sub-par take on Food Network's Next Food Network Star—whose godly Andrew Schumacher was robbed last season, but at least had his spot taken by the occasionally entertaining Guy Fieri. That said, I will briefly divert from my ramblings on Seijun Suzuki, Jazztronik, Roni Size, and such, to be an obvious fag for a moment and say that Sam is rather fucking hot, the competition has gotten hilarious and on rare occasions culinarily vibrant (though not fucking half as much as it should be), Padma Lakshmi always seemed like a bitch back in her days of hosting FN's Melting Pot, and still does, and tonight's taking out of Marisa + Josie was a nice blow (no, I don't get like this over that Bravo sibling moronic fashion reality fagfest). To have that chased by a preview with my sage source for vitriolic, perverse, and fuck-all brilliant wit, Tony Bourdain, spouting the psychotropically ingenious line that gives this post its subtitle left me anxious for next Wednesday (which I'll have to tape because I'll be going back and forth from Andy Caldwell (more to come on him) and Brasileiro sonic god DJ Marky, but that's another story elsewhere along my obtusely disconnected synapses...). In the meantime, I posted this screen-grab of Sam rather than the actual clip because it's just more aesthetically sound. Feel free to visit YouTube for it.

New Loves (Part 1): Dave Annable

I have no snobbery about subscribing to random elements of (backward US) pop culture if I find some aspect of it decent (a rare occasion)—and there are beautiful men involved. Of late, I've developed a rather grand crush on Dave Annable, who plays recovering junkie/alcoholic/youngest sibling on ABC's Brothers + Sisters. Whether calming a young girl while he shoots her up with insulin (nothing nefarious in that scene actually, just chivalrous and lovely), or spelling words on his girlfriend's back—with his tongue—this boy is sexy as fuck, even enough to make me watch a show that casts Calista Flockhart as a right-wing pundit and Rachel Griffiths as anything other than an endearing psychotic. As expected, I watch just because I'm in love with Dave, and wanted to post a rather gorgeous photograph of him.

Sex God of the World + The Most Achingly Sublime Boy Alive: Cory Koons

Who fortunately spent several years getting gang-fucked in some of the loveliest fag porn ever filmed, for the mighty Raging Stallion. This beautifully oversatured new photograph came to my epically grateful eyes via his MySpace page.

A Gorgeous Interlude Via Bombay

Lovely Roni Size + Dynamite + The Goddess Jocelyn

I had intended to not post for a while to keep that miraculously sublime photo of Gil atop the blog, but hell, this is Roni Size WITH Jocelyn Brown. Yes, the Kenny Dope mix is much better than the original, but again, this is video of Roni with Jocelyn. That said, Roni is still looking beautiful, and it takes me back to seeing the first Reprazent tour @ Metro in Chicago, one of a handful of truly religious experiences I've had in my life, back when I was in love with Die (who's back in L.A. next week), Dynamite, Roni, and, most of all, Suv (who turned out to be the true sonic genius in the lot). As for the mighty and inimitable Jocelyn, I just got her new Unreleased set yesterday (which is nice), and the new Incog (which is immaculately burnished and absolutely beautiful).

Kinky Loveliness Redux (Part 4—Recent Gigs, Reina, and Gil's Most Crushingly Beautiful Photo Yet)

When speaking of the world's most exquisite boys, I clearly always come back to Gil, Cesar, Uli, Carlos, and Omar, and much has been happening with the beautiful ones lately. First off, they've done two magnificent sessions for KCRW in the past two months, one with video for Morning Becomes Eclectic, and another even more sonically lustrous (audio only) set for Sounds Eclectic, just last weekend. I do have to blaspheme and say that I don't love all of Reina, and think that the Rarities disc is a better explication of why they're the best band in the world, but every last song continues to absolutely fucking blaze in the live set—which continues to grow into more of an awe-inspiring sonic onslaught with every gig. I've seen them three times in recent months, first at Avalon on the day of the Reina release, then out in Culver City at the LATV studios for a taping of LATV En Concierto, and then again two weeks ago in a free daytime gig at downtown's Grand Avenue Festival. The Avalon gig was mighty, but the LATV set was lovelier for another reason, namely that during a question and answer segment I was standing 6" behind Cesar. He shook my hand with a big grin, and jokingly swatted my side when I got flack for asking a question in English. Yes, I did also get to ask a question (I just asked what other Mexican, Venezuelan, Colombian, Brazilian and Argentinean electronic groups/producers they wanted to work with... which rather nicely got Uli to mention Fussible and Terrestre in addition to Bostich and Cerati). It was a beautiful, beautiful thing, and I actually don't look bad on the tape from the broadcast. They did six songs that night, but musically the Grand Ave. set was most incendiary and fucking magnificent, especially in the sunlight in the center of downtown. Some dumb-ass kids started a mosh pit that distracted me and led me to give up my spot right under Gil and move to the side (I'm too old to deal with that kind of idiocy), but the set was musically flawless, and nice and long... and I got many glimpses of Cesar's ass-crack (nothing more beautiful in the world), and even one of Gil's (except possibly that). The above photo is the cover of the last (debut) issue of the new mag Tú Ciudad, and aside from the most achingly sublime photo ever taken of Gil (can he get any more staggeringly godly?), the issue also had a brief piece on the Rebirth's Loslito, and the mightily entertaining in its own right Kinky article—in which Gil tells of being in love with Ely Guerra (I didn't even know they were together. Of course, I wish he were a fag for obvious reasons, but if he's got to be with any woman, he might as well be with the most brilliant woman in roc or electronica. And I just found out this morning that Ely's playing here next week!!!! At Spaceland on October 29. Getting my ticket later today.), and Cesar recounts a tale of a threesome with two groupies. Most definitely gorgeous and HOT AS FUCK, once again... Find the issue if you can, and listen to the two new sessions for a taste of the most colossally enveloping and resplendently lustrous live sound on the planet.

Sex God of the World: Eric Balfour

I had meaning to post on a miraculous find I made a little while back. I've been in love with Eric Balfour ever since his Six Feet Under days, and had always heard that he'd grown up with naturalist parents, and had no problem with nudity, but unfortunately hadn't seen any yet. Then I stumbled upon a page on the great OMG blog with several photos of beautiful Eric in all his sublimity from a film called Lie With Me. The film's undoubtedly horrendous, but not only do you see his cock repeatedly, in one scene he's actually hard. Yes, he does have a lovely cock, and even more magnificent ass. The clip on the OMG page seems to not work often, but that and one or two others can usually be found online elsewhere. Eric actually lives in Silverlake, and I have seem him in the hood a few times, but sadly not in all his ineffably beautiful glory, as here. One last thing about Eric, his band, Fredalba, is actually not bad, and their clips are occasionally shown on LATV. He is most definitely a sex god of the world. Enjoy.

Venezuelan Zingason

A rare timely post:
I caught an absolutely gorgeous DJ set by Los Amigos' DJ Afro at Little Temple last night. Sadly, it's yet another reflection on the hellacious idiocy of nearly everyone in Los Angeles that there were less than ten people in the club, but in defense of the idiotic masses, the gig had no promotion, not even on Fusicology. If I hadn't checked the LT website I wouldn't have even known about it. Nevertheless, the set was brilliant, and I hadn't realized how much I'd missed DJ Spinna's remix of Carleen Anderson and Agent K's "Rideaway Getaway." Other points of loveliness in the set included Nortec's "Dandy del Sur," and the original mix of Simon Grey's "Galactica Suite." (I'd only heard the Domu mix on the godly Inspiration Exclusives, which is much better than the original, but hearing it in an L.A. club in any form is miraculous.) And I suddenly realized that I've become a pussy about being the only person on a dancefloor, which I never had been before. As anyone will tell you, I am a bomb-ass dancer, so I don't embarrass myself, but still something's holding me back from dancing solo lately. Still, it's a hell of a lot better than being on a dancefloor that's too packed, and full of ugly bitches who rudely have no problem getting in my way because their gender entitles them (It DOESN'T!!!!!!), but I digress...
Though the set was lovely I got tired of the sleepy atmosphere (after giving in and dancing for about 20 minutes), and ran over to my second home, Silverlake Lounge, to catch The Shore in the third week of their month-long residency, which I'm loving. Don't hold the fact that they used to be on Maverick against them—their sound is gorgeous in a Britpop vein, and they always give a little wall of noise at the end of every set. I also owe them for turning me on to a lustrous '60s album I didn't even know existed by Scott Walker's fellow Walker Brother, John. I have to save up for the pricey German import reissue, but it's something to look forward to.
Friday I'll be checking the other monthlong residency at SL Lounge, by The Bird and The Bee, whose Saint Etienne and Broadcast-biting I'm a bit skeptical of, but that I'll admit could be promising.
And yes, I know the above photos are of Los Amigos' Julio (on the right), and not Afro, but let's be honest, Afro is brilliant but not much to look at, and Julio can be sexy as fuck (as in these beach pics).

Kinky Loveliness Redux (Part 3—Brief Essential Video Interlude...and the Unmitigated Sublimity That is Gilberto)

Paso del Nortec: This is Tijuana

I had to chase that with some Nortec, and fortunately found this even lovelier footage, part of the disc that comes with the Paso del Nortec book, which I must own soon, and which proves once again that the graphic and film branches of the Nortec juggernaut are unstoppably magnificent.

More Aesthetic Dopeness from the Fine Gents at Nacional

I absolutely love this video, clearly because it's just got a brilliant aesthetic. Bitman + Roban are labelmates of the mighty Nortec boys, and part of the reason why Nacional is now alongside the perennially godly Sonic360 (home to my dream husbands, Kinky, who I have more to post on shortly) in my 10 favorite labels worldwide. (Atop that list are S360, Especial, Tokuma, and Far Out.) The Bitman boys were among the first to send me a friend request on MySpace, and sent me a note on my birthday earlier this year, which was of course boundlessly endearing/unbelievably sweet, but what I didn't know at the time was that one of them is Christian Powditch, who was responsible for a psychotropically beautiful remix of Cerati's "Camuflaje" that anchored Gustavo's Reversiones: Siempre Es Hoy project. And again, how lovely is this clip? I first saw it on SíTV's The Drop last week, giving me one more reason (not that I needed it) to love SíTV.

Legend of the Sun Virgin

This is a rather astonishing and most certainly dope excerpt of a French documentary on Yma Sumac. I've loved Yma since I was a pup, and did actually get to see her at the Strand in Redondo Beach in the late '80s or early '90s. She had her son in the band, and much of it wasn't the greatest despite the fact that her voice was still in lovely shape. It was mostly just badly arranged, but she did do "Jungla" for the first time in over 20 years, and that of course was fucking brilliant. This footage shows why she continues to inspire hordes of drag queens, or at least used to when drag queens had better sense. I'll never forget seeing both Perfidia and Lady Bunny (separately) doing "Malambo No. 1." The best drag queen in L.A. at the moment is my girl Paloma, an older Mexican queen who's sweet as hell and holds it down every Sunday at my 2nd home, the Silverlake Lounge (as part of the show that my crush's trannie girlfriend is in). Her version of "Cuccurruccu Paloma" is absolutely brilliant, and always reminds me of Caetano's godly version in Pedro A.'s Talk to Her.

The Mighty Ms. Elza

I tend to shy away from You Tube's bizarre little slide shows, but I've never seen half of these gorgeous covers, and anyone who's ever met me knows that Elza was, is, and always will be my queen of Brazil (along with the other Soares, Claudette, whose "Kosmus" is still the most beautiful song ever recorded). I've pretty much given up on the goddess ever coming to the U.S., but hope to get to see her in London (ideally at the JC) at some point. This song—"Teleco Teco No. 2" from the glorious album with Wilson Das Neves that starts this montage—is one of my perennial favorite jazz-dance killers. I haven't heard any of Elza's new work since the Instituto remix of her "Maldingueira" track with BiD that Gilles included on his first Gilles in Brazil set, but that was sure as hell mightily fucking lovely.

Oh My Fucking God—Jazztronik Video!!!!!!!!!

If only Nozaki were my husband... I'll have to settle for knowing that he is the mightiest and most ineffably miraculous producer/jazz god of our time, and crafter of the most lustrous house anthems the world will ever know. How Technicolor-magnificent are those fucking strings???!!!!???

The Brilliant Cerati

I caught sight of the Latin Grammy nominations yesterday, and was mightily warmed to see not only the deity that is Eddie Palmieri and the great Ed Motta getting any kind of recognition in this backward nation—along with the epically brilliant Gustavo Cerati. I've had something of a religious conversion toward the genius of Cerati in the last few months. I did get to see him last August on the Ahí Vamos tour, and did love his Spiritualized/MBV-derived onslaught (despite his looking like Lou Reed at the moment, a fact that makes it hard to forget that he can actually be rather attractive, as evidenced in the Sinfonico clip here). But it's the rapturously unfolding langour of 1999's Bocanada that's made me realize that Cerati deserves to be in the pantheon of Scott Walker, Jacques Brel, et. al., and that Bocanada is not only the greatest roc en Español disc ever (like a male counterpart to Ely Guerra's Lotofire, only even much more beautiful than that definition), but one of the greatest discs ever, period. Lustrous, orchestral, and and simply awe-inspiring.

Who Knew Mario Lopez's Ass Was So Lovely

First off, a qualifier: I've been trying to post several clips of sonic god Gustavo Cerati by way of effusing over my recent discovery of his miraculous 1999 disc Bocanada and commenting on the Latin Grammy nominations (Cerati, Ed Motta, Eddie Palmieri nominated—a gorgeous thing), but Youtube seems to be having tech difficulties, so I thought I'd press on. I gave in to the charms of Nip/Tuck last season just in time to see beautiful Bruno Campos getting faux-f*cked by Bryce Johnson. While I still say that it's not nearly as twisted as it thinks, in Season 4 it seems to be getting there, and apart from its other mightily amusing aspects thus far—i.e. the music director's continued love of the mighty Gotan Project, along with Nouvelle Vague, Bitter:Sweet, and more sonic loveliness, and a horde of entertaining guest spots in the first few episodes alone—the most beautiful thus far has unexpectedly been Mario Lopez's absolutely sublime ass in a brilliant shower scene with Julian McMahon (also showing his ass much this year, and it is kinda hot). I can't help remembering Lopez's fag turn as Greg Louganis (especially the rape scene), but also think the timing's sort of hilarious and brilliant given his new gig as host of SiTV's new dating game show the The Dating Factory (proof that SiTV can most definitely be misguided and inept, but I still love them for their booking stellar music (soul goddess Destani Wolf (who I'll be writing more on), my boys Volumen Cero, Bitter:Sweet, Glory, and Crown City Rockers, to name a few) and Latin honeys (Jose Solano breakdancing, Heroes' Santiago Cabrera, and the perennially godly Nicholas Gonzalez and Adam Rodriguez have been welcome and f*cking magnificent sights as always) for The Drop, amid reruns of Resurrection Blvd. and New York Undercover, both of which I also always dug). I'll post more on what makes SiTV essential another time, in the meantime, check this beautiful ass... (Click on image for larger view.)