Illustration by Peter Karpick

God bless term limits…. After suffering through eight long years of incomprehensibly disastrous leadership by George W. and his bloodthirsty hoard of flying monkeys, it’s hard to believe that we’ve finally made it to a point where we can see a glimmer of political light at the end of the deep, dark tunnel that the regime has bored through our frontal lobes. Of course, we still don’t know for certain whether that glimmering light is the glow of a new day dawning or the diesel-fired headlamps of an oncoming republican campaign bus, but we do know that even a head-on collision with the Straight Talk Express is likely to be far less disastrous than the global carnage we’ve seen as the result of eight years of “Compassionate Conservatism”. At the very least, soon we won’t have to care about anything George W. Bush says or does ever again and that gives us all something remarkable to celebrate. Then we, as a culture, can do what we do best… we can relegate him to the historical obscurity that he so richly deserves and ignore him until he dies and is resurrected as a Republican Saint. Perchance then to be lifted out of our willful forgetfulness just long enough to honor our solemn vow to one day urinate upon his grave.

Kill Rock Stars

With their latest LP venerable experimentalists Deerhoof reheat the brilliant recipe from last year’s breakthrough Friend Opportunity: classic meets indie rock, east vs. west, soft-loud dynamics, and complicated rhythmic work. The lyrics, however, span a topical and bilingual range surpassing their previous efforts, including the all Japanese-language opener and a two-part narrative (“Don’t Get Born” and “Fresh Born”) wherein a baby worries about its lack of planning. Satomi Matzusaki’s off-kilter vocals sound sturdier than ever throughout, and the gently destroyed closer “Jagged Fruit” stuns, with drummer Greg Saunier’s nuanced cymbal shivers creating electrical currents between guitar and bass before exploding.

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Photography Courtesy of Nervous System Jewelry

Reading about how MIT grads-turned-jewelry designers Jessica Rosenkrantz and Jesse Louis-Rosenberg create their unusual Nervous System jewelry line is likely to give any tech-averse reader a headache. “Our trajectory focuses on generative design methods using both algorithmic and physical tools to create innovative products and environments,” writes the pair. In plain English, what they do is use software algorithms modeled after patterns occurring in nature (specifically, branching dendrites and the movement of particles) to laser-cut shapes in silicon rubber or stainless steel. The resulting coral and lace-like patterns are then fashioned into cuffs, earrings and necklaces that are delicate, strange and beautiful. As faithful supporters of open-source technology, the pair has made their code freely available via their website, where other designers are welcome to use the code to experiment and create their own designs with it. While Rosenkrantz — who later studied architecture — is obsessed with ideas of form and process, and Rosenberg — a technology consultant — likes to geek out on open-source creativity, we like that their black rubber cuff makes us feel like a hot, fashionable superhero.

bossanova.com

Hidden deep in San Francisco’s industrial SoMa district, Bossa Nova redefines favela chic. Inspired by the vibrant ghetto culture synonymous with Rio de Janeiro’s hillside communities, this soulful Brazilian lounge feels like a classic, tropical dancehall, where beautiful people come to celebrate life with sumptuous food, strong drinks, good company, and amazing rhythms. The creative, small plates arouse the senses with bold flavors and rich textures, such as Brazil nut-crusted queijo (goat cheese) with sweet cipollini onion jam, hamachi tiradito with rocoto chili and yuzu dressing, and steamed mussels with spicy tomato and cilantro in a coconut milk broth. Bossa’s signature Leblon caipirinha comes in classic (fiery cachaça, agave nectar, and crushed lime wedges), as well as luscious mango, raspberry, and passion fruit renditions. This hip and cozy space is lined with geometric cinderblocks on one end, and breezy windows with rough-hewn, wooden shutters on the other. True to its Brasileiro roots, the pulsating samba beats keep hips shaking until late, making Bossa Nova the most vibrant and sensual experience around.

139 8th Street   415 558 8008

Photography by Derek Peck

Coke. Semen. Viscera. Shit. These are the greatest hits of subject matter (and materials) among New York’s so-called “downtown” scene of artists. Like a diamond-dusted bauble, Terence Koh has floated to the top of this sea of curious creatures. The artist has literally sold gold-plated nuggets of his own poop for hundreds of thousands of dollars. And this was in the early days of his young career, with collectors at Art Basel fighting like agro moms over
     Cabbage Patch Dolls, circa 1984, to wrap their fingers around his scat. Now they’ll pay upwards of half a million for anything the artist has dipped in chocolate.
     Among the downtown kids, the radius of Koh’s circle is a bit wider than most. It includes child stars, art stars, their financiers, and those who write about them, and on given occasions in this milieu, the whole machine turns into a giant ferris wheel, where everyone’s on top eventually and there’s no more slowing down than there is speeding up, just a state of being akin to floating, a vantage best characterized as “high”.

dulcinea.org

You go to Istanbul, maybe it’s your first time, maybe it’s your tenth, and your peeps tell you to head to a mega-club like Reina and rain cash down on the shores of the Bosporus. But maybe that isn’t your style, maybe you want something else. Good: grab a cab, head to Dulcinea, and get comfortable. The joint has a café and a bar — and small art gallery in the basement — and is the perfect way to soak in slick, diverse Istanbul. Dulcinea, named after Don Quixote’s imaginary lover, never runs short on style and atmosphere and easily slides from a relaxed coffee house vibe to a packed bar to a down-tempo after-party to a tasty lunch spot. The minimalist décor is classic: wood tables and chairs dot the spacious interior, contemporary art hangs on the large walls, and simple hanging lights throw just enough wattage around, leaving plenty of room for the young, hip crowd to get wild. Be yourself, or be someone completely new; no one will care, unless you aren’t having fun.

20 Me_elik Sokak   +90 212 249 8753

Smalltown Supersound

Despite being just three tracks, each over ten minutes long (the first of which is almost thirty minutes!), Lindstrøm’s first true album isn’t the attention sapper you’d fear it might be. Instead, it utilizes the long format as a means of slowly building each song (and the whole album) into a very coherent, disco space odyssey. The album starts out droning, preparing for a psychedelic experience, but quickly morphs into the slick, melodic beats that Lindstrøm is renowned for. The songs are repetitious in parts, but there are enough clever layers and twists to make this an opus to space out to — repeatedly.

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Photography Courtesy of MOMA New York

It just wouldn’t be modern art if it didn’t offer some pointed social commentary. The Museum of Modern Art in New York City gives new meaning to the phrase “home delivery” as it welcomes a new exhibit exploring the history of pre-fabricated housing. Home Delivery: Fabricating the Modern Dwelling, of course, includes a look toward the future with a five-story structure dubbed the Cellophane House. It consists of fifteen easy-to-assemble chunks and runs on solar power. Sorry, it’s not available for purchase just yet. But someday such options might provide welcome alternatives.

moma.org