Hipster parade

There's an array of hipster blogs out there. Here's a new acquaintance:

Unhappy Hipsters

And two favourites:

Look At This Fucking Hipster
and
Hipster Puppies

This years pair of M.I.A:s

Spring (where ever it is today) means sun and sun means an urge to cover yourself from it in every way you can, paradoxically enough.

These are the nicest juiciest sun glasses I've seen so far this spring.

The pic is from Elle.se, and the glasses are from Rodebjer, they're yours for 2 499 SEK. That's about £220 and quite enough for one never to dare wear them out. 

When it comes to umbrellas and sun glasses, I just can't spend more than a few quid, cause I'm gonna loose them, sit on them, scratch them, they're gonna get stolen, broken and generally not last very long. So no. I'll go to H&M and get the same model for a a fiver. At the end of the summer, you can probably find them at the bottom of a Swedish lake or something equally random. 

JJ at SXSW

jj at SXSW

From PSL.

So, now when the mystery is yesterdays news, when are they gonna come to a venue near me and you?

Gorillaz in da house

Thank God for boyfriends more music obsessed than I.

Otherwise I would have missed Gorillaz playing the trinity Centre tonight in Bristol. I have no idea what to expect, holograms, an actual Damon in the flesh hopefully, maybe some guest artists....I have no idea and I LIKE it!

Seal bomb

This is probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I cannot look at it without giggling, every time. 

Look. 

Giggle.

Work.

Just  a quick glance. 

Gigglegiggle.

You see?

Photo from http://cuteoverload.com/

And today is one of those days

Some days, you can't do much else but look at the rain, listen to "These Days" by Nico and think about that moment in The Royal Tenenbaums when Richie meets Margot when she gets of the bus.

The year of the Fembots

Robyn is back!

Me, a busy bee

Oh my, the first sign of busy times and I neglect the blog. Probably cause I've been wanting to get back into seriously busy- mode for a long time, and when the chance is finally given, I dive in feet first. The fact that spring seems to be on its way helps.

 I write for this magazine. It's basically a big glossy advert for everything slightly Nordic. Like ME! : )

Later this spring we're going to Stockholm, me and C. I'm gonna induldge in some Weekday and Monki shopping, visit my old front room Debaser and Berlin, and have a lush meal at Tranan. Last time I was there, Robyn casually walked in for a quick dinner. My motto is, "if it's good enough for Robyn, what the hell am I doing there". HAHAHAHA GO I;m funny. No, but seriously, they're so known for their meatballs and mash that they had to remove it from the menu, nobody was eatling anything else. You can still get them though, although as a pescetarian I'll opt for the strommingsflundror (I'm not even gonna try to translate that, it's basically filetts of herring put together two and two, fried in an ocean of butter.)

It looks something like this.

Funny guys

Who knew that Julian Casablancas had a sense of humour?

The weekend, in bulletpoints.

Yes, exaclty that. I'm too busy and efficient to write like a normal perosn.

So, the weekend in bullet points:

- One drive to Wales, through landscapes that would have made Peter Jackson forget all about going to New Zealand to film Lord of the Rings. Since I'm from a terribly flat piece of land, my tummy goes "IIIII!" when being confronted with the sheep dotted hills of Wales. MOUNTAINS they are, as far as I am concerned!

- One welsh wedding. With obligatory dancing to ABBA and other tunes that only ever get played at weddings in grand but slightly forgotten mansions and country houses, and a cover band that dared to attempt Lady Gaga and the Killers.

- One night spent in a Travellodge by the motorway.

- One breakfast at Little Chef. Yes, my very first Little Chef experience! Am I fully english now?

- One afternoon of reading the Sunday Times. Twice.

Swindie friday

Today, a classic Gotherburg sound from the Noughties: The Tough Alliance - Holiday. This is how Swedish indie kids were dancing two years ago. In fact, they might still do. Not so many of them in this football hooligan fashion though.

So good it Hurts

Why Hurts is the best thing that's going to happen 2010, in no particular order.

The Brideshead Revisited look of the singer, the crisp white shirts, the dancing, the baseline, the grainy quality of the video, the nazi short hair cuts, the saxophone, the melody, the heavy eye make up, the whiff of 80s, the air of sadness and unattainability. It's absolutely perfect.



They've only done a couple of gigs, but in April they're headlining the NME Radar tour and I'm gonna see them at Thekla here in Bristol. What if they suck live? I'm going to be so disappointed. But I'm sure that won't happen. If you can make that song, that video, you're not going to show up and not know what you're doing are you?

A little perspective

I moan and complain a lot about the "winter" here, about the cold and all that - I'm not built for humid cold and damp weather.

This is what I'm built for:

Have you seen anything as beautiful and inviting (imagine doing snow angels in THAT!)
It's my house, or well, my parents house, at home in Finland.

Black Rebel Raveonette Club

The two coolest (not to mention best) bands I know are Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and The Raveonettes. I had a mental picture of Sharin Foo in my head when I bleached my hair Arctic white, and BRMC.... well, I just don't know who embodies rock more than them. On of the best live gigs must be their gig at Nalen in Stockholm, after releasing epic album Howl.

We're gonna see BRMC in London in April, me and C. It was his Christmas present to me, one of the best ones I've ever gotten. And I couldn't help but noticing that they are coming back to Nalen in Stockholm the very weekend we're gonna be in Stockholm.... The thing is that Nalen is a old ballroom dancing salon, with heavy read velvet curtains ad chandeliers, but combining it with the patina and shabbiness that a hundred years worth of shuffling, dancing, stomping feet on the stripped floor boards gives. As far as concert venue goes, they don't get better that that.

BRMC released their sixth studio album this week, and I've been listening to it all day long. They have a new drummer, Leah Shapiro, who earlier has been The Raveonettes drummer. My (retorical) question is: How cool is she? I mean, even the name is pure rock. I want to be her new best friend.

Another Swedish love story

Salem Al Fakir is one of those annoyingly talented people who can play anything.

I know that it happens, but I'm still quite embarrassed to admit that I had a bit of a crush on him (that hair! those eyes!) back in Sweden around the time when his debut album was released. We got introduced backstage at the Hultsfred festival, and I probably came across as a extremely shy and possibly mute 14 year old. Thank fuck for age and experience, I say. I don't miss my younger less secure, less sophisticated, -less everything really- self at all. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that Salem is in the Swedish finals for the Eurovision Song Contest (they make it last for like 4 months in Sweden, occupying prime time television and the release schedules for MONTHS, it's insanity dressed in camp, bright colours, background singers and modulations all the way up to the actual finals).

Salem has just released his third album, called "Ignore This" too. Here's the Eurovision song:

Enough is enough

Ok, sun, you win.

I take it back, all the summer days I've sat under an umbrella, sparing my milky white skin from your rays. If you come back now, I promise I will dance around in the sun shine all summer long. Just come back.

I've been freezing since October and it's not remotely funny any more. The disturbing thing about it is that it's getting worse by the day, and it's bloody mid-March.

The difference between PR and marketing

Can't make it any clearer than this (from Ads Of The World).

Kent - A love story

They're the only band I've ever considered tattooing on me. And it breaks my heart that I can't see them on their current tour.

Cut-o-phobia

Over the years, I've developed a bit of a phobia against hairdressers. I've never burst into tears after hours of agony, only to see my poor locks fall to the floor, leaving me looking like a Barbie doll that's been given the obligatory shaven head - treatment. (I have had a shaved head once, but that I did myself).

No, it's not that bad. It's just a returning feeling, every time I look in the mirror after another attempt to face my fears, a feeling of "well I've could've done that myself", a feeling that they are not really living up to my expectations, a feeling that they just don't UNDERSTAND me nor my poor locks, once thick like horse hair, now ever thinning and of that hated "Nordic" fine quality. If I am to part with money, I want miracles. This may come from my teenage years, when I was a bit of a DIY queen when it came to doing my own hair. Black and red hair? No problem. Dreadlocks? (What can I say, I was young and listened way too much to Rage against The Machine) Done.That, as well as the aforementioned shaved head.

The thing is though, my wishes and desires when it comes to my hair have changed a bit since. Now, I would be happy with shiny hair. Undamaged hair. And I'm sure that all hairdressers are out to stress my hair to the point of breaking it or have it simply fall of.

You see, I found a brilliant salon in London. One of the best salons in the world, probably. Real Hair. Apparently, my hairdresser was trusted with the hair of Vidal Sassoons wife. That reassured me. I felt safe in a hairdressers hands for the first time since I was 13 (when we had the incredible luck of having the headmaster of the hairdressers school as our personal family hairdresser. I swear, I've never had as good hair as the school photo when I was 12.) and they didn't let me down. They managed to turn my hair that wanted almost-white colour and together we came up with a do that made even the hairdresser himself stunned by his own brilliance (well, together with my own : )). Birds sang and all was happy ever after.

Til I had to get my roots done. This safety and bird singing I got in the London salon came with a quite hefty price tag. So I decided to go for the budget option, let a local salon have a try. I mean, it's only the roots, right?

Wrong.
Three breath holding hours later I came out with part white, part yellow hair, and when I got home, I couldn't help but notice that quite a big bit of the top hair had simply BROKEN so that only a few centimeters was left, creating a Dennis the Menace-like little lock on the top of my head. Needless to say, I'm not going back to Central Studio.

The problem remains: What AM I going to do next time I have to get my roots done? Go back to London, tail between legs and beg for forgiveness for my infidelity? I see no other option, if I want to keep the rest of my hair. That, or go back to the shaved head.

Shake your ergonomically correct chair

Now, I'm not the biggest hipeti hopper in town, but sometimes I make exceptions. 

St. Johns Dance is something of a super trio when it comes to Swedish hip hop, it consists of Adam Tensta, Eboi & dida and if you can sit still to THIS, you might want to go visit your doctor cause you might be paralysed.

This is The Plot.

Alice in Wonderland, 1903

I can't wait for Alice In Wonderland. While we wait, here's a truly magical rendition of Alice from 1903 with Cecil Hepworth and Percy Stow. The film was originally 12 minutes, but only 8 of could has been saved by BFI National Archive. When it was first released, it was the longest film ever to have been made in England.

Manchester revisited.

Better late than never. Here's some pics from Manchester, nostly from fabulous Afflecks palace. Cupcakes! Old furniture! Bling Kittys! Vintage jewellery in £1 boxes!

Reading material for the train journey. Can you be more middle class?

Cupcake heaven.

Gangsta rap bling Kittys.

Random cute things from Studio Ghibli films. I don't know what they do but I WANT THEM ALL!

Woollen sock surprise

When I was a child, I always got a pair of knitted woollen socks for Christmas. Several pairs, in fact. From both grandmothers. One of them, Mummi, always hid a chocolate bar in each sock, like this:

It's Patkis, Fazers littlest and sweetest and mintiest chocolate bar, the one originally made of the left overs from the other chocolate making machines:


And I have one at home.

Husky Rescue

When it comes to credible, cool but still mainstream music, Finland is kinda behind the rest of Scandinavia with the likes of Robyn, Royksopp, Lykke Li and The Concretes getting all the spotlight. For a reason, of course. Finland's got Boomfunk MC's. Errhm.  

Don't get me wrong, when it comes to really filthy techno and dance music, I don't know anybody who does it better than the Finnish/Berlin based New Judas label, with Downtown, Les Gilliettes, Huoratron and my favourites Pets on Prozac, to name a few. 

But it's the commercially available indie I miss from Finland. There's a few sparkling lights in the bottomless arctic darkness though. Ones of them is Husky Rescue, now touring UK. On Wednesday, we're gonna go see them in Bath. (They're not coming to Bristol, for some inexplicable reason - this is a phenomenon I've seen before; bands coming to Bath, but not Bristol. I recent that.)  

It's a bit folksy, a bit whispering (like their biggest hit "My Home Ghost" from the album "Ghost Is Not Real".
Now you can download their new single " We shall burn bright" for free on their site>

http://www.huskyrescue.co.uk/

Watcha waiting for? Get enlightened, get some finndie in your ears!