> Fall Out Boy's Pete Wentz wants you to be the first to know he's one-half of a hot new couple. (Hint: his new boyfriend isn't usually seen sporting a beard.)
> Ellen Page's publicist, Kelly Bush, called Michael Musto
to argue that Ellen's not a loser just because she didn't win an Oscar.
She also sets the record straight on at least one thing: She was not
attending the awards show as Ellen's date. Thanks for clearing that
part up.
> Kathy Griffin drops her top to streak down the aisle on the world's first drag queen-staffed flight to Sydney.
> Though at first she did demur, Janet Jackson drops diplomacy and ups the arms race between her fans and Madonna's.
The psychedelic folk of Seventh Tree, Goldfrapp's fourth release, is a clear departure from 2005’s acclaimed glittery romp Supernature, a neo-disco album accentuated by the electropop duo's tricked-out concerts boasting furs, lingerie, nipple tassels, and spooky animal heads. "With Supernature every space was taken up by synths, guns firing simultaneously," Alison Goldfrapp says, explaining how this time she and Will Gregory opted for a melancholic yet optimistic sound, a lush marriage of delicate finger-picking, rosy "Californian sunshine" bounce, and swelling strings that evoke "naive English horror films."
The result finds Goldfrapp slipping out of her dirty dancing shoes for an idyllic Sunday comedown, but Seventh Tree still delivers the high cinematic drama Goldfrapp’s gay followers have grown to love, as the songstress coolly navigates through the dippy buoyancy of "Happiness," the sepulchral gloom of the self-destructive "Eat Yourself," and the galloping fervor of its gorgeous first single, "A&E":
Bottom line: more "nature" than Supernature, Goldfrapp's new album is still super gay.
I got lost on my way back from the archive room, but these quotes from Oscar winner Javier Bardem said to Out -- back in February 2001, when he was promoting the biopic Before Night Falls, about gay Cuban writer Reinaldo Arenas -- were too good not to share.
> ON THE REVELATORY FILMING EXPERIENCE: "I can now grasp how a man could look at another man and immediately want to lift his legs to Jesus."
> ON JOHNNY DEPP AS TRANSVESTITE PRISON GUARD BON BON: "When I first saw Bon Bon on the set, I didn't realize it was Johnny. I just looked at this girl with the heavy makeup and the big behind and thought, man, I could get into that. I still felt such a way after I realized it was Johnny. He's such a beautiful guy -- who wouldn't want to make love with him? And I know a lot of real girls who would kill to have Bon Bon's ass."
> ON FAKING IT: "I'm not a homosexual, but if I have to kiss a
man, I have to feel the desire. Otherwise I will be lying, in a way
that is perhaps worse than the lying that gay actors convey when,
offscreen, they say they are straight. It's worse because I am being
fake to an audience. I had to find in myself the man who would like to
make love with another man."
> I can't top Queerty's take on the New York Post story that says Perez and even less reputable blogger (yes, it's possible!) Jonathan Jaxson may have swapped sex tapes. Jaxson still didn't score a direct hit in Hilton's blog.
> Out's longtime closet monitor Michael Musto asks the predictable question about Juno cutie Ellen Page.
(The answer to Defamer's question about who was seated with Ellen at
the Oscars, by the way, was her lesbian power publicist Kelly Bush. The
rest of her hot clients -- among them Casey Affleck, Josh Brolin and Diane Lane -- were all within arm's reach, too.)
Anyone who knows me knows (a) I'm such a girl; (b) I'm an occasional lesbian; and (c) I think I'm Carrie Bradshaw. And no, not like those hyperactive, annoying girls who claim they're Carrie all the time. Frankly, if I had Patricia Field as my stylist, I'd put those girls to shame. (Confession: I took the quiz, and it turns out I'm a Carrie-Miranda blend. Whatever, the magazine world makes me a little neurotic and tense.)
I do still believe the show left us while it was still hot, but almost nothing busting out this summer has me as excited -- and nervous -- as the forthcoming Sex and the City film, in theaters May 30. Will it capture the excellence of the show, or should we have simply waved goodbye in 2004, announcing the series finale as the end of an era?
While the previous trailer for the flick didn't tell us much at all about what's in store for our fab four, this clip that just surfaced on YouTube is awesomely dishy. Carrie, getting married? Is it or isn't it a dream? Carrie, a brunette? Fantastic! Steve, a cheater? Charlotte, preggers? Miranda, with a full bush? WTF, SATC!
After disappearing for 10 years, Portishead is back. Yes. For real. We're not kidding.
Fourteen years ago the Bristol trip-hop trio released Dummy, one of the most seminal albums to come out of the '90s -- OK, to come out ever. Awash in cobweb-covered hip-hop beats, crackling vinyl, and, of course, sphinx-like diva Beth Gibbon's tormented vocals, Dummy was unlike anything audiophiles were gushing over those days, an intoxicating noir affair that conjured '50s detective pulp and prefigured a new wave of ambient, soundtrack-ready music that, unfortunately, was driven into the ground by the end of the decade. (Even Portishead say TV producers turned their tunes into a "fondue set.") Dirty and dark, Dummy was the sound of foreplay, foul play, deep heartache, and pure torture. It was a classic as soon as it hit shelves.
The sad news: The new album is titled Third (get it, their third LP? see similarly literal album art, above). Then again, their second album was titled Portishead. But so what? These mysterious kids can afford a little minimalism.
The good news: Third is pretty amazing. It's even headier than you'd expect, a fusion of psychedelic goth and their signature snare rolls and trippy beats. You won't be able to listen to it until April 29, but here, for your reading (sorry!) pleasure, is a description of some of the best tracks I was lucky enough to hear this week:
> "The Rip": After two spins, it's my favorite track on the record. It starts out fairly bare-bones and folky, but soon builds up to a charming electro-gallop. Gibbons is crooning woefully about horses taking her away in what is Third's most melodic piece. The right producer could remix the shit out of the song and make it a divine summer anthem.
> "We Carry One": A dark experiment in psych-industrial-punk. Think Joy Division and NIN.
> "Deep Water": The endearing, left-field gem tucked away in the middle of the madness. It's a super-short, ukulele (yes!) ballad that evokes a barbershop session by the river.
> "Machine Gun": The most aptly titled track, it's a discordant, reverberating sci-fi nightmare drenched in seismic, pulsating beats. Is a post-apocalyptic war going on here? I swear I heard menacing marches and forcefields going up.
> "Threads": On the final track Gibbons officially descends into the gothic underground -- maybe even into the fires of hell; she literally closes the album wailing like a banshee. After her pained vocals fade, you're left with what sounds like an ominous bass line for at least another minute of the song. Then the unsettling silence kicks in, and you feel like you're surfacing from some mind-bending freakshow.
I didn't think Gibbons and Co. could express more dread, detachment, and disenchantment than they already had, but they've done it on Third. Their iciness and misery seems to have thawed and morphed into something of scorching intensity, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
My very first crush was on Dolly Parton. (My second crush was David Bowie in Labyrinth, to be fair.) I was 7 and obsessed with her short-lived variety show. I kept a pin my parents bought me at her concert on my bedside table like a religious icon. It was a square photo of Dolly at her cheesiest, in a topaz rhinestone blouse bursting at the chest, with oversized shoulder pads that supported miles of platinum blonde curls. Of course I became a Dolly fan just at the time that the country music industry abandoned her, as label execs decided to jettison older artists to appeal to a younger demographic.
In the years since then, Dolly has had a second critically acclaimed career writing traditional mountain music, joining artists like Gillian Welch in spurring on the bluegrass revival movement. Backwoods Barbie, out yesterday, is her first mainstream country album in nearly two decades (and the first on her own label). It's a delightful synthesis of both Dollys: the showgal in rhinestones and the mountain girl singer-storyteller she's always been.
Part of the fun of the latest album is that it continues to show Parton's growth as a songwriter. At 62, her longevity is due to her ability to wrap personal stories of tragedy in a commercial gloss. The title song is basically a drag queen's anthem (of drag queens who dress up as Dolly, she's said they "look more like me than I ever could") as she croons "but don't be fooled by thinking that the goods are not all there, I'm just a Backwoods Barbie in a push-up bra and heels. I might look artificial, but where it counts, I'm real."
But the best part of the album comes in two straight-up country rock anthems. The first, "Jesus & Gravity," is Dolly at her best, confessing that she's "as bad as anyone" but attributing "something lifting me up, something holding me down" to her success, backed by driving guitars and a gospel choir, of course. It's a sly commentary on the necessity of both religion and science.
The second anthem, "Better Get To Livin'" has already received significant airplay and the video for the song features Amys Poehler and Sedaris in cameos. It's an unsubtle, feel-good-feminist reminder that the Dixie Chicks and Shania Twain would never have happened without Dolly. The song espouses Parton's philosophy of life: When "your life's a wreck, your house is a mess and your wardrobe way outdated," you pick yourself up and keep on going. And even though we're both much older, my schoolboy crush still knows how to tug at my heart.
Not that my love for Christian isn't pure and true, but before Jack went home early on this season of Project Runway he was far and away my favorite!
Out's Jason Lamphier caught up with him at our Gossip Girl party and did his best to extract a few more insidery details on what to expect from tonight's not-quite-finale.
>
Out.com: What's the worst rumor you ever spread about someone? Jack Mackenroth: [Silence]
I'm hoping it was when you were like 12 years old. Oh. Okay.
Or maybe it was recently? I don't know -- we all have our moments. I don't really play that game. I just tell the truth. So it wouldn't have been a rumor. People got pissed off at me for saying there were "many sides to Chris March," not just what you see on TV. All his fans attacked me, so I learned not to say that kind of thing.
Who do you think is the least like what they appear to be on the show? I can't comment on that.
Is it Chris March? If you say you've already said it -- No. Actually I think it's Victoria, because she is delightful and so sweet and nice. She had a few moments -- she's very serious -- and [the producers] like conflict. Without conflict the show wouldn't be. Our cast got along really well, and that was sort of problematic cause there wasn’t all that much drama. We’re all professional adults, so we all really liked each other, for the most part. It's a reality show -- they have to do their thing.
How was the reunion show?
Amazing.
Was it super awkward? Like season one awkward?
No. No. It was fun.
It seemed like there was a lot of camaraderie on the show. Yeah. Half the cast I love and still keep in touch with.
I think everyone cried when you left. There were a few people that pretended. There were a couple of people at the end who were like, "Can I have a hug?" And I was like, "You haven't talked to me for three days."
So what's the scoop on Dale from Top Chef? Are you guys still seeing each other? Yeah. He just was here [in New York].
Rumor has it you guys finally hit it off at the Out 100 party. We were talking and that's basically when we first met. We met on MySpace -- he lives in Chicago.
You know that Facebook is totally the new MySpace. You know what? I've invested so much fucking energy in MySpace that I can't be bothered with Facebook!
Will you be my MySpace friend? I have like one -- that guy Tom. Yeah. If you get lost in it, don't feel bad because I have like 6,000 friends. I get probably 100 a day. But friend me and I'll totally friend you!
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