Overheard

"It's funny, I call all dogs puppies"

That's not funny. It's just incorrect.

Pigalle Spring/Summer 2012

I always wanted a hunting hat like the one Holden Caufield wears in Catcher and the Rye. Fortunately for me, while in Paris, Sam and I stumbled upon Pigalle, a Parisian brand that, on top of an impressive Cut & Sew line, has an outstanding hat collection. Needless to say, I now have a hunting hat.

Today we can give you a look at Pigalle's upcoming (upcoming being a year from now) Spring/Summer '12 line. With the apparel part of the line scaled back to just pants, vests, and blazers, all in matching colors, their headwear production has really taken off. This upcoming season features wool, leather, and straw hats, some with – now, get this – corduroy lining! Real cool.

Check out some additional photos after the jump, and if you happen to be in Paris, make sure you check out Pigalle.

Jam of the Weekend

Without any warning or promotion, Blu dropped a new LP entitled J E S U S. With production from Blu himself, as well as Madlib, 9th Wonder, and Alchemist, the album is a real gem, and sounds like a mixtape in the best way possible. This project perhaps is intended to keep fans satisfied until his Warner debut, No York, drops. Regardless, take a listen to track seven, entitled, "4u", and go pick up the whole album today. Enjoy.

Jam of the Week

Here's another track from Kendrick Lamar's new release, Section 80. Seriously, get this album. Lookout for a full album review next week. Enjoy.

Confirmed "Watch The Throne" Cover

According to the always credible folks over at MediatTakeOut, this is rumored to be the cover art for Kanye West and Jay-Z's Watch The Throne, whenever it is in fact released. The mandala-style graphic is reminiscent of the "H.A.M." cover, giving this rumor a bit of legitimacy, but then again it's from MediaTakeOut so any potential for legitimacy is null. Also according to MediaTakeOut, the cover will be, "Made out of metal..." We'll see about that.

Still no word on an actual release date. We'll keep you posted.


UPDATE: Ryan Seacrest is also “reporting” that we will be getting a new single mid July with the album looking at an August release (with a tour to follow).


UPDATE #2: For once MediaTakeOut gets it right as we can now confirm via tweet from Kanye himself that this is indeed going to be the album cover. It is also now confirmed that Watch the Throne will contain ten tracks, with the deluxe edition supporting an extra four. Pre-order the album here.

Jam of the Week

This week's jam, "HiiiPoWeR", is the first single from Kendrick Lamar's new album, Section 80, which drops tomorrow. The song's great, the album is sure to be great, make sure you check it out. Enjoy.

Special Edition Report: "Fore!" by Larry David

Now, don't get too excited, Larry David did not actually contribute a guest post to Old School Movie. I know, I know, imagine if he did! Seriously, imagine that. "Fore!" is a piece that David recently published in the Shouts & Murmurs section of The New Yorker. It's just, you know, Larry David is such a magnificent figure in the world of Old School Movie, and in the world of Max Schieble, such a prominent idol, that I wanted, if just for a moment, to pretend that he was a fan of the blog and felt the need to contribute a piece of his own. Is that such a crime? Is that so abhorrent, so detestable, so—never mind. Enjoy the incredible word of Mr. David below.

"Fore!"

On the par-3, 175-yard fourteenth hole at Riviera, I hit my tee shot a mere ninety yards and a physics-defying thirty degrees to the right—almost sideways. It’s a miracle I got my right leg out of the way, or I could have shattered it with the club. As I walked to the ball, I remarked to my friend that after seventeen years of playing this course I’d never seen someone hit a ball anywhere near where mine ended up. He had never seen it, either. “What’s more,” I said, “I couldn’t care less.” My friend was taken aback. But I meant it. I didn’t care, and I didn’t particularly care about the next shot, either. I felt liberated, not unlike the way I felt when my wife left me, except this time I didn’t take up skipping.

Finally, after years of pain and struggle, I had accepted the fact that I would neverbe a good golfer. No matter how many hours I practiced, no matter how many instructors I saw, how many books and magazines I read, or how many teaching aids I tried. Then it hit me. According to Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s book “On Death and Dying,” Acceptance was the final stage of grief that terminal patients experience before dying, the others being Anger, Denial, Bargaining, and Depression. I was in the final stage! When I started thinking about it, I realized that I’d gone through every one of those stages, but not as a terminal patient . . . as a golfer.

My first stage: Anger. There was a time when I was always angry on the course. Driving fast in the cart. Throwing clubs. Constantly berating myself. “You stink, four-eyes! You stink at everything. You can’t even open a bottle of wine! You can’t swipe a credit card at the drugstore! You can’t swipe. And you’ve never even been to the Guggenheim. The Guggenheim! And call your parents, you selfish bastard!” Then I’d walk off the course and vow never to play again, only to return the following week for more of the same. I hardly ever finished a round. Once, I bought a brand-new set of clubs, and then, after a particularly terrible day, I gave them to the caddy at the sixteenth hole and left.

The Anger phase lasted for years, and then I entered the next phase, Denial. “All I need are some lessons,” I told myself. “Why should everyone else be able to do it and not me? Why are they good? I’m coördinated. I have a jump shot! I can go to my left. Obviously I have it in me. I have it in me! Next year, I’ll go to Orlando and spend a week taking lessons with Leadbetter. I don’t care what it costs. How can you spend a week with Leadbetter and not get better? It’s impossible.” But I did, and I didn’t.

The third stage was Bargaining, and I did my share of that. “Please, God. All I want to do is hit the ball. What is it You want? Good deeds? Give me a swing and I’ll give You good deeds up the wazoo. I’ll help sick kids, the homeless . . . well, sick kids. I’ll stop all the mocking. I’ll give up cookies, coffee, coffee cake, cashmere. I’ll go to temple. Is that what You want? Temple? Done! Can I bring my BlackBerry? O.K., no BlackBerry, I promise! Just let me hit the ball! What do You care?” He didn’t. What kind of God won’t let me hit the ball? What did I ever do to Him? He took my hair, I didn’t complain. I joked about it! I was a model bald man. Was it the TV show? Did He not like the show? Too mean? I’ll make it nicer! I can be nice. “Tell You what—I’ll visit my parents in Florida three times next year. That’s right, You heard me. Three times! . . . Did I say three? Three’s crazy. No one can survive three trips down there. It’s suicide. Let’s make it two. What do You say? Two trips to Florida! I’m only human!” And, by the way, I wasn’t even asking to hit every shot. Or even every other shot. Or even everythird shot. I said, “God, let me hit the ball every fourth shot and I’ll be happy.” Every fourth shot! But He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He won’t.

Then I drifted into the next stage, Depression. I was never going to be good. Never. Think what I could’ve done with all that time. Learned French. Piano. I’d be playing Chopin now if it weren’t for golf. Playing Chopin for Julie Delpy. But instead I wasted my life on this game. It looked so easy. The ball just sits there. Any idiot could do it. But every instinct I had was wrong. You’re supposed to hit the ball down to make it go up. That’s absurd. I want to hit it up to make it go up. When I try to hit down, it’s like I’m splitting a log with an axe. All I do is chop up the course. And then there’s this one: the easier you swing, the farther the ball goes. How can that be? So you hit down to make it go up and swing easy to make it go far?

And now I find myself in the final stage, Acceptance. I will never be good. There, I said it. I like saying it. I’ll say it again: I’ll never be good. It’s just not something I’m suited for. That’s O.K. I’m good at other things. What those are I have no idea. But I’m sure there are some. Flossing and dishwashing come to mind. Getting people I can’t stand to like me is another. But golf ? No. I will never stand over the ball without considering the disaster about to befall me. I’ll never line up a putt and think I’ll make it. Never face a chip without fearing the decel. And yet I’ll continue to play, because I do hit some good shots, especially when I’m on the driving range. I actually hit some great range shots. What the hell is that? I’ve had swing compliments on the range. “I love your tempo,” a woman once said to me. That’s right—I have good tempo. I’ve had many other range compliments that I won’t bore you with, but, believe me, I’m an eight or a nine on the range. So it’s clearly psychological. I wonder . . . what if I blindfolded myself ? Is it possible?! Have I stumbled upon the Secret? It makes sense. The reason I can’t hit the ball is that I can see it! Tomorrow I’m going to play blindfolded, and if that doesn’t work then I’ll definitely and unequivocally accept Acceptance. I just want to try this blindfold idea. I have a very good feeling about it. Very good.

Overheard

"Let's play catch the Teddy Bear!"

I'm gonna be honest with you, that sounds like a horrible game.

Do Not Rest in Peace, Ronald McDonald

It has come to my attention that Ronald McDonald has died. No, not literally died. It is not a literal death of which I speak, but rather, a societal one. As McDonalds attempts to separate itself from its origins as a fast-food restaurant, and adopt a more healthy, upscale image, little room is left for Ronald the Cholesterol Clown.

Good riddance.

I've never particularly been a fan of Ronald. In fact, you could say I hated him. As much as one could hate a fictional restaurant clown, that is. My loathing stemmed not from an aversion for McDonalds as a company (for which I have nothing but respect), but rather from the constant repetition of the clown's commercials during every single commercial break, further delaying my cartoons from returning. Sometimes they were even played twice in one break! It made watching Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon increasingly more difficult, to the point where now, as a twenty year-old boy it has become almost unenjoyable. Almost.

The commercials were weird too. They always featured Ronald with some strange, unheard of piece of technology, like a giant pogo-stick resembling the McDonalds logo, for instance, hanging out with a bunch of kids. He was always with a bunch of kids. This was a bit unsettling. And I know, he's a clown, and clowns are supposed to be around kids. But we're talking about a clown who, for the past forty or so years, hasn't aged. And it's been the same guy the whole time, I'm sure of it. Someone really should get in touch with the parents of those children.

He also wasn't very funny. And by not very funny I mean that instead of making me smile, or laugh, as was his intention, he made me frown, and sometimes cry because I fucking hated him.

Whoa. Sorry. I'm getting too worked up over here.

It's not that I don't like clowns either. Though we've had a tumultuous history, for the moment, my relationship with the clown community is solid. And in terms of the other McDonalds characters - The Hamburglar, Grimace, Birdie, Mayor McCheese - things have never been better. The Hamburglar, especially, has long been there for me as my friend, and as my confidant.

So now, watching Ronald's once-bright star fade, as he is replaced with younger singers and dancers who people may actually find attractive, I can do nothing but smile. It seems for once, Ronald has done his job.

A big thanks to my friend Julian, who you might remember was featured in a past Jam of the Week, for turning me on to this article, in turn sparking this whole rant and giving me something to post today.

Photo of the Day: June 27th

This, um, this just isn't going to help anybody. Ever.

Senseless Integration

There's a big difference between Green Mint Chip ice cream and White Mint Chip ice cream. Have you noticed this? White Mint Chip is much more of the day time Mint Chip. It's a little more relaxed, more soothing; it's a much calmer Mint Chip, perfect for eating in a garden, or a hammock, perhaps. Green Mint Chip, on the other hand, is the flavor of the night. It's intense, and badass, meant to be consumed while wearing a leather jacket and suitable for cone only (cups are much too mellow for the flavor that is Green).

White Mint Chip is the type to be served at a barbeque, whereas Green is ideal for a birthday party. Similarly, Green is to be ordered at an ice cream parlor, while White is meant for at-home enjoyment. A peculiar phenomenon occurs though when it comes to the ice cream cake. Have you ever had ice cream cake? If so, then you'll agree that in terms of the ice cream filling either Green Mint Chip or White Mint Chip is suitable. More than suitable, really. Mint Chip ice cream, regardless of color, is the ideal filling for an ice cream cake.

Ice cream cake. Man, what an innovation.

Some people would say that the only difference between the two Mint Chips is that Green is more artificially flavored. False. While it may (may) use a bit of artificial coloring, Green Mint Chip possesses a natural flavor worlds apart from that of its White counterpart. One bite of Green and instantly you are transported to a dark, dimly lit street corner (à la Sinatra's In The Wee Small Hours) where you are preparing for a knife fight. A bite of White, conversely, sends you out to the pasture where you are frolicking and horsing around with your uncle (this, of course, before his terrible accident in Maine).

Don't expect me to pick a favorite during the course of this post. That would be impossible. As I explained, the two varieties aspire to much different occasions. In the morning when I am lounging in my garden wearing all linen and listening to Elsanor (my harp player) play the harp would you really expect me to eat Green Mint Chip? Reader, please, have some compassion! Or at night when I arrive at the bar on my chopper, dressed in leather pants and a denim jacket, with a denim shirt and leather boots I should order, what, White Mint Chip? In a cup? Ha! No, a favorite is surely impossible to pick. It really is a travesty that they are both housed under the moniker of Mint Chip. Were they to be commonly recognized as different flavors, say, Mint Chip and Mint Chocolate Chip, what have you, there would be no need for this senseless favoritism. Alas, as long as this unjust flavor integration exists, I suspect Mint Chip fans will forever remain divided.

Let us, for a moment, return to the subject of ice cream cake. Seriously, is there a better type of cake? Well, yes; yes I suppose there is, but ice cream cake is pretty great. I am always thrilled to find a birthday party. Additionally, I am always thrilled to find a birthday party playing host to an ice cream cake. It really is the perfect touch.

So, in review: Mint Chip, whether Green or White: Great. Ice cream cake: Also great.

Jam of the Week

Another great track for summer. Bump this.

Trailer: The Pursuit of (Cool)

From R+I Creative, the folks who brought you last year's "Influencers", comes a new documentary, "The Pursuit of (Cool)". Dig on the trailer; it's pretty cool. We'll keep you posted regarding the release of the full project (or, maybe we won't - you'll have to wait and see!).

Jam of the Week

Look, I know that the last Jam of the Week was also a Dr. Dog song, but you've got to understand that they are the greatest band of all time. This is the opening track from their 2008 album, Fate. It's both a great song for summer (ideally an early summer morning) and one of my favorite songs of ALL TIME. Seriously. Enjoy.

Old School Movie Cribs: Florence Edition

Better late than never! Check out where Max and I lived for four months.

Photo of the Day: June 15th

Take a look at the sign in this picture. "Strawberry Cove Park". Are you kidding me? This is the worst park ever. Look at it, it's got weeds, gravel, and poles. Upon first glance you may notice the monkey bars on the left side of the image and think, "Oh, monkey bars. This is a normal, fun park." Following this thought, however, you will notice that the remainder of the park's structures are no more than standard exercise facilities (see: chrome pull-up bars and balance beams scattered throughout). There are no slides, no bridges, no spinny-things. No fun.

And before you start with that whole, "Man, Max is so critical. I bet this is a great park! I bet people love this park and play there all the time!" let me just point out that this photo was taken on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and if you'll notice, missing from the company of the gravel and the chrome are what, reader? That's right: people. No people to be found here. I don't think, in my twenty years of driving by this park, that I have once seen a person in attendance. I have never even seen any sort of life at this park; not a stray dog or coyote finds this park enticing. It's a shame, really.

Overheard

In response to Watch The Throne, the upcoming collaborative album between Kanye West and Jay-Z:

"TWO WASHED UP DUDES RAPPING. THEY SHOULD CALL IT WATCH THE PACEMAKER."

YEAH THEY SHOULD! Good one man.

Overheard

"And in actuality, it was all a total farce."

For once this Overheard is not being posted because of how inconceivably stupid it is. I heard someone say the above statement yesterday and I thought to myself, "Man, 'farce?' When was the last time I heard that used?" Farce is an incredible piece of vocabulary that, really, seems like it would be a part of my standard rotation, though somehow it has slipped under the radar. I won't go into the whole history of the term farce, about how it originated in 15th century France to describe impromptu bits of clowning inserted into religious plays by actors. No, I'm not going to do that (though let it be made clear by that brief bit of history that I, too, can use Google). Let me simply advise you to look for farce in several upcoming OSM posts, as it is a great word that deserves a high level of notoriety.

Photo of the Day: May 22nd

Get a load of this picture. It's not a particularly nice image by any means, but please, read the name of this street: 13 Peter Behr Drive. Right off the bat I see some potential issues with this. Imagine you're ordering a pizza:

"Yes, I'd like a large pepperoni pizza delivered to 12 13 Peter Behr Drive."

Now, as the pizza guy, I am very confused by your order. Not right away of course, because that is a very standard order, but once I'm out trying to deliver said pizza, I am surely baffled. Just think, based on how addresses traditionally work, I am certainly out searching for 1213 Peter Bear Drive, not 12 13 Peter Behr Drive. By the time I figured out the error in my hearing, or, rather, the error in your street naming, depending on how I choose to look at it, your pizza is ice cold, and now you regret ever moving to 12 13 Peter Behr Drive. I imagine no one considered the delivery-pizza fan when naming this street. A fatal error, I assure you.

Also, if you're going to stick with the whole "Peter Behr" thing, don't you think Way is much more appropriate? I think Peter Behr is much more of a Way than a Drive. 13 Peter Behr Way. That actually isn't so bad. It's got a rural, sort of country feel to it.

Yeah, that's it.

Semester Wrap-Up: Best of Jam of the Week

Our time left in Florence is quickly diminishing, and while Old School Movie will indeed continue stateside, we figured a moment should be taken to reflect on some of the songs that best defined this semester (seeing as music is pretty much all that we talk about on this blog). As it turns out, very few of these were actual Jams of the Week, but there should certainly be some familiar names among the bunch. We went ahead and compiled these into a .zip file for your listening pleasure, and for that same pleasure, they are arranged in chronological order according to our listening. This way, you can sit down, turn this playlist on, and imagine all of the various awesome adventures we've been on. Or, if you were so inclined, you could sit down, turn this playlist on, and simultaneously look at all of our Facebook pictures and it would almost be like you were there. There's a pretty good amount of pictures, and while you could probably blow through them relatively quickly, to really sit, observe, and comprehend them all would take, well, it would probably take just about the length of this playlist.

Anyway, enjoy.

Download all the tracks right here, or stream them individually below the jump.