INSIDE EUROTRASH / BARCELONETA’S HOMELESS PIRATES / dBTOWN
LA CUINA GUARRA
‘TENDER RABBIT A LAS DOS PIEDRAS’ PA G E 8
B A R C E L O N A ’ S A L T E R N A T I V E N E W S W E E K LY | W W W . B C N W E E K . C O M | J U N E 1 4 – 2 7 , 2 0 0 7
RED EYES WIDE OPEN? ANOTHER GUIRI BITES THE DUST.
. COL LOCAT!
VOL 1, NO 47
B R I L L A E N T U D I A M A N T E LO C O
ON THE EDGE OF REASON, DRUG-FUCKED IN BARCELONA
PA G E 4
VOL 1, NO 47
J U N E 1 4 - 2 7, 2 0 0 7 W W W. B C N W E E K . C O M
EDITOR’S LETTER Last weekend I was standing out in front of the Barceloneta metro stop handing out papers. You couldn’t have missed me. I was wearing orange shorts and an orange BCN WEEK t-shirt. I was out there for at least three hours. The brilliant study of human behavior that comes with people-watching was amazing (note to the N. Americans: I wasn’t trying to bite you or sell you anything, it’s a free paper in English. Take it, damn it!), and I talked to a lot of people about BCN WEEK and heard some really flattering things. We are a small, very accessible group representing on paper our vision of the life we share here in BCN, and feedback from readers is golden. But it’s not just the flattery we seek. Please send us your thoughts, opinions and, sobre tot, your criticisms. Write to me directly or the editorial team at firstname.lastname@example.org. And, as always, if you’d like to join us we want to hear from you. This week we’re dabbling in a little delicious debauchery. What is it about BCN that gives a lot of us a renewed sense of youth and its sometimes consequential excesses? There’s something in the air here that makes it okay to leave rigid responsibility and expectation at home; we now live in a culture where having three too many glasses of wine, or whatever, on a work night is fine. In BCN, zest for life is part of the Mediterranean passion, and no one’s going to make you stop. Not wanting to celebrate, moralize or simply bore, we’ve gone to the streets to talk to you about where you’ve drawn a new line. Enjoy your WEEK, and please send us your thoughts.
David Tressel DAV I D @ B C N W E E K . C O M
STAFF Marcus Villaça FOUNDER / CREATIVE DIRECTOR Jennifer Cross CO-FOUNDER Núria Ferrer PUBLISHER email@example.com David Tressel EDITOR firstname.lastname@example.org Lena Wiget ARTS + CULTURE EDITOR email@example.com Claire Gunter SALES DIRECTOR firstname.lastname@example.org Joe Littenberg EVENTS MANAGER email@example.com Sara Custer COPY EDITOR firstname.lastname@example.org Megan Ellis PROOFREADER email@example.com Alfredo Lahoz PHOTO EDITOR firstname.lastname@example.org Alida Zapata SALES EXECUTIVE email@example.com Harmony Barry SALES EXECUTIVE firstname.lastname@example.org Noelle Julian SALES EXECUTIVE email@example.com
EDITORIAL CONTRIBUTORS Tiffany Carter, Celia Clark, Calvina Dragonetti Megan Ellis, Prada Garcia, Raquel Gariani Dominki Gelada, Michael Jones, Jordae Lee Lancaster, Lady Ondina Osborne, Stephan Ortiz Joanna Pellorano, Regina WB, Lena Wiget
Pelayo 52, 1-2, 08001 Barcelona, Spain tel. +34 933 01 13 63 firstname.lastname@example.org | www.bcnweek.com A WAM Publication | D.L. L-741-06 © 2007 all rights reserved
S AY F O R M AT G E !
BICING YOUR CULING AROUND
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DITCH THE D-LOCK AND GRAB YOURSELF A ‘KINDER EGG’ BIKE... Megan Ellis Alfredo Lahoz BY
In a city where it’s advisable to spend more dinero on your locks than on the bici itself, can a communal bike system work? With their spangly red frames appearing all over BCN, (either in the nifty stations or — slightly worryingly — wielded by a shaky Barcelonian whose last two-wheeler was a pennyfarthing), they appear to be super popular. As a relatively new guiri to BCN, who is yet to buy a bike/inherit one from a mate who’s off to teach English somewhere better paid but with worse weather, I always have a smug chuckle when it takes my friends ten minutes to untangle three different shaped locks, only to find the rest of us have decided to move on to a different bar after all. This is the beauty of the Bicing system… just skid up to the station and slot in those handlebars for a speedy getaway that would make Bond proud. It’s also highly amusing to watch the puzzled tourists; “It’s just for locals” I heard one Catalan proudly announce to some over-eager Germans. As for the bicycles themselves, they’re growing on me. At first seeming a little bit more Kinder Egg toy than Med chic, I admit it must be quite a reto to design something that is chulo to the adolescente as
P H O T O S BY
well as practical for their abuelita. Not a bad job, all considered. While it has the vague pinta of a Chopper with its tall handlebars (and what could be more retro cool than that?), it’s got enough laid-back city-bike form to prevent your Zara multi-layered gypsy falda from flapping up around your chin. Apart from its pseudo-English branding, which doesn’t make it any bigger or cleverer, and the slightly dodgy styling of the huge white "graffiti-me!" mudguard, its quirky shape is recognisably amable (Beetle-like according to one friend), and different enough that any wouldbe ladron would be tonto to ride it off into the distance — simultaneously exceeding his two hour borrowing limit anyway… Not just for its green bonus points, I’m very contenta to see the Bicing become a BCN icon that you can find running over your toe in any given corner of the city centre. Provided that releasing seasoned metro users out on the calles without helmets and unsure of the geography above-ground between Barceloneta and Fontana is not too much of an issue, that is. Just make sure you read the PDF crash-course about Bicing road safety on the official website (www.bicing.com) before speeding off down Passeig de Gracia.
Guiri Trivia! A STUDY RELEASED IN DECEMBER 2006 SHOWS THAT 94% OF ALL SPANISH EURO NOTES CARRY TRACES OF COCAINE.
P H O T O S BY
Alfredo Lahoz B R I L L A E N T U D I A M A N T E LO C O
TRAINSPOTTIN’ BARNA STYLE OUR INFATUATION WITH A CHEMICAL FIXATION
Sometimes I think I might like to start a platform for Prohibition in Barcelona. These times coincide with accidentally wandering into a crowd of sweaty porkers using their friend’s impending marriage as an excuse to galumph down the Ramblas flailing their sausage arms and ogling women with their giant communal lecher’s eye. But when I read articles about rampant drug use and abuse in this city, they never mention these social parasites. Instead, they seem to follow the same tired lines: 1) Barcelona’s a paradise, and you can get anything you want on the streets. 2) For a while you’ll be living it up, immune to bad luck and bad trips. 3) One day it’ll all come crashing down, you’ll be pathetic in rehab, and you’ll finally learn for yourself that drugs are bad. Bad. The problem with these cautionary tales is that they’re not universally applicable, and especially not in this city. I know plenty of people who spend their entire weekend in a pill-induced frenzy, then get up and do their work competently on Monday. They have friends. They have hobbies. They have plans for their future. Using drugs doesn’t necessarily land you in rehab, pot doesn’t have to be a gateway to doom, and I’ve personally enjoyed plenty of innocent chemically-induced hilarity. On the other hand, I’ve also woken up with hangovers that made death seem attractive, and found myself putting unidentified, originsunknown things up my nose after two hours of wandering the streets and eating shawarma from the SPAR 24. Drug use in adolescence is usually a rebellion against established norms, but we’ve long since grown out of our short pants. No-one’s standing over us, watching us brush our teeth anymore. No one can really protect us anymore, especially not from ourselves. As international experiments in prohibition have taught us, if you like your liquor, and you can’t buy it, you’ll make it in your bathtub. As European
authorities have begun to legally reflect, drug use is an intrinsic part of our social fiber, impossible to separate from the rest of the weave. Can the granny in Amsterdam who grows weed to make a little extra on the side really be deemed a social degenerate? America’s War on Drugs has been an abject failure, showing that when your wings are clipped, you make artificial ones in your basement laboratory and get on with it. More importantly, the War on Drugs perpetuates teenage rebellion and stunts maturity, because under its parenting you never have to move past the feeling that you’re using drugs as a big fuck you to the authorities. On the other hand, when freedom is handed to you on a platter, you’re suddenly drawing the line for yourself. Isn’t it better to find out what we really want and need through experimentation, even if that experiment puts us off tequila forever? Our empirical navigation of life has mercifully landed us in a city that, at least in this respect, allows us to enjoy our freedom, and we love BCN for that. We may live in paradise, but when we decide to stay, we find that internally, maybe we do have boundaries. You really find out what you’re made of when the shackles come off. So where do we, as individuals, set our limits? Do you draw the line at buying from unknowns on the street because last weekend you ended up snorting salt? Did you limit yourself to two Xibecas per night after falling asleep pants-less on the beach and being woken up by a disapproving BCNeta employee? Are there no limits on the weekends before 4 pm Sunday when recovery begins? Are there never any limits? These are some of your stories, and they reflect the diversity of our experiences better than a blanket statement ever could. As Hunter S. Thompson said, “I wouldn’t recommend sex, drugs, or insanity for everyone, —— Celia Clark but they’ve always worked for me.”
VOX P O P U L I
WHERE DOYOU DRAW THE LINE? TALES OF FEAR AND LOATHING IN BARCELONA AMERICAN, SALES DIRECTOR I don't set limits on anything until I have tried it. I let the experience guide me, and ultimately, it is through experience that I say "yay" or "nay" to a drug. I used to yay the yo and had a great time doing it. The first time I did it I got three grams from a trusted source and enjoyed a week-long party with friends. Then I got a little more from that same source and had another fabulous weekend. Then one weekend I was at a bar downtown with a few friends. Everyone was coked up beyond belief except for me, so when I got the offer to head to the bathroom, I was on it, source unchecked. The Coke was mediocre at best, but the hangover the following day was the worst I have ever had. I vomited, had a horrible headache, could not go to work, heard buzzing in my ears, could not relax my jaw, and was in a general state of horror and panic wondering if it would ever stop. I have never snorted cocaine since then, and only will again if it comes from that one special source. He has been out of town for a while, though.
GERMAN, PROFESSION UNKNOWN Yes, I drink alcohol.
Yes, I smoke pot. Yes, I leave my house at night. No, I have never taken hard drugs. I saw friends grinding their teeth, I heard my exboyfriend having the best laugh of his life, and well, yes, I smelt the chemical fragrance on toilets in clubs. It was around that time that my older sister gave me a very well-intentioned piece of advice: let the dealer try it first, and I realized that I am a drug virgin (not to be confused with baby prostitute!). This lasting virginity would have been a big nightmare to my 15 year-old self, reading Hermann Hesse and listening to Nirvana. But now, 11 years later, it is like pets and Nutella: if you know that you can buy it whenever and wherever you want, it looses its magic- even though it's cool to know where to buy it. And in case I do ever get touched for the very first time, feeling all shiny and new, I will always follow the advice of my big sister.
other words: Fiesta! In the bars, terraces, the beaches and parks, dinner parties and barbeques, random pisos, centro civicos, rooftops, more parties, or simply just on the street consuming copious amounts of alcohol, hash, and/or marijuana. Nothing too strange here though. Not even heavy drugs (yet, anyway). For most, it’s just another borrowed day, year, or decade in sunny BCN, with tourists, guiris and Catalans alike awash in a sea of debauchery with no shortage of live humor. But how much is too much, where’s the balance, when does the escapist and/or obsessive turn from a genius to a jerk? Well, after seven years playing live around NYC in rock bands and over six years in the arts here, all I can say is listen to your own mind and body. William Blake said “the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom”. Maybe. But I also think one should be a bit weary of bumper sticker sized mantras or as Milan Kundera advises “metaphors are dangerous.” Salud!
“What are we going to do tonight?” my roommate asks. “Why, the same thing we do every night, Pinky” I sardonically reply, “Try to take over the world!” In
Asking me where I draw the line has an oxymoronic tinge because if I’m taking drugs I’ve decided to forget about the line. My devil is coke and I love to hate it.
Guiri Trivia! IN 2004, THE AVERAGE RETAIL PRICE OF COCAINE VARIED WIDELY IN THE EU, FROM 41¤ PER GRAM IN BELGIUM TO OVER 100¤ PER GRAM IN CYPRUS. IT’S A DRUG USED PREDOMINANTLY BY MALES IN THEIR 20s. U N I T E D N AT I O N O F F I C E O N D R U G S A N D C R I M E
ENGLISH, MATHS TEACHER
WTF? ck What The Fu
The green sticker says “Mossos in battle”; the orange says “For police dignity, we’re saying enough!” Over 4,000 Mossos and their supporters took to the streets demanding the resignation of Joan Saura, the head of the Department of the Interior, which governs the Catalan police body.
TO PROTECT AND TO SERVE... NOT! The Mossos are saying that their dignity has been eroded due to Saura releasing video footage of beatings in interrogation rooms, while demanding that cameras also be installed in the rooms. I guess their treatment of citizens has nothing to do with the issue at all. As cops, their manifesto should be along the lines of protecting and serving, so why should they really care if there are cameras watching their moves? There are, after all,
Unless it’s pills that I’m loving to hate. My lines are drawn by physical exhaustion or money; when I run out so does the consumption. Shame about those conveniently placed cash points and all the money I have. Seriously.
IRISH, BARTENDER Few weeks back, these Scots come in a few days in a row. Got to know them alright. Every now ‘n then they’d head off to the toilet, have a little bit ‘a Charlie, no worry much ‘bout that. The last day they come in, must’ve been a celebration or a good’n; they took a fair share of the booze, right. All four a them comes outta the toilet, pants down, full sail, pricks in hand! I ain’t no saint, but gots to draw the line right there. For fuck’s sake! If they can’t handle their drugs, don’t feed the fuckin’ animals cocaine!
ENGLISH, PROFESSION UNKNOWN I have two sets of limits: what my mind wants to do with my body and what my body will do with my mind. This generally hasn’t been a problem in my life. I haven’t got the belly for 10 pints of Best, nor do I associate with people who come home to John Belushi-sized mountains of posh after the after party. My down has been, and will continue to be, MDMA. Having eased ecstasy due to the ungodly hangovers that follow a night out on the Gary Abletts, I discovered the “purer,” powder version, that in controlled doses gives me, and many others I expect, a contently bouncy roll, tantamount to that first ride on Space Mountain, or wherever. Controlled amounts, I would hasten to reiterate. The last time I didn’t give this wacky substance its due respect was at a very recent beach party at a chiringuito at Nova Mar Bella. Feeling dandy after a wee bomb, I recall being told that I looked funny by a friend. I felt okay, but don’t really recall the continued dabs into that little wrap as the night progressed. A compendium of accounts taken from eyewitnesses put my drug-taking out of the “controlled” range. I spent
cameras in the streets watching ours. Maybe it’s the fact that they are being judged by the same standards of behavior as the normal citizen that has them so indignant. Respect and dignity are traits earned, not entitled privileges. It’s a very scary — if not dangerous — reality when thousands of law enforcement officials take to the street protesting against a policy that ultimately protects the citizen.
the majority of the night slipping in and out of consciousness, but somehow found my way to the club where some friends were. One kind soul took pity on me and guided me home, however, not before I collided with some street furniture and did myself a right mischief. I vomited outside the front door and when I finally got home, pissed myself on the sofa. I should probably take it easier next time.
FRENCH, ENGINEER Intimacy, that’s where. I love to get off my nut, and I love to get my nut off when I’m senseless, but without affection. I don’t even like to be affectionate with my friends. When I was younger and would get whacked on ecstasy I was the typical hugger, kisser etc., but now I don’t even like to say lovey things. I guess I think it’s all a joke now and I certainly don’t believe in the euphoric feeling. I know it’s fake and will only last for a couple of hours. These days, now that I’m well past the age of knowing better, I don’t give anything away. I get high because I want to laugh, not because I want to love.
ITALIAN, CUSTOMER SERVICE REP My limit for pills is 7 in one night, any more than that and I get a little crazy. Coke- I have no idea where the limit is because I’m always doing others’ lines and sharing my own; I guess it would be a whole fuck of a lot, or until my nose clogs. I wish I could put it in my ear. My drinking limit is set at nausea. (Of course all limits are breakable).
CANADIAN, TRAVELLER My problem is that I’ve never had any limits, no rules of thumb, no barriers that ever held me. I’ll do whatever from whomever. And the higher I get the dirtier I like it: lines in toilets with strangers that lead to making out or more, joints joined with blurry eyed winking, whatever. During the day my limits probably appear to be prudish, but the truth is I’m quite a drug-slut.
I’ve drawn the line with illegal drugs so many times I’ve hit bottom; I don’t do any. In fact I have to concentrate really hard not to be anti-drugs. In theory, if my friends want to take them, that’s fine. But in reality I can’t stand to be in their company while their fringe is plastered to their forehead with sweat and they are talking bollocks. It depends on the drugs, but in general they make people so boring. The guy playing guitar with us on the beach last weekend was really great, before his focus shifted towards getting absolutely fucked. I woke up one day and realised that the fun just doesn’t need to go on for seven hours. You can dance your arse off for an hour, and still have the memory of a great time; you might even get up in time to have a lunch the next day as well. Most of my friends in BCN don’t take drugs, and I always (naively?) get the impression that the whole leaving the house at midnight thing cancels out the need for powder to keep you awake and going. I’m still pretty sure that you need very special substances to listen to minimal techno for more than five minutes, but in that case I just go somewhere else. I should probably admit by now that I drink, (but never with the sole intention of getting shitfaced), and I recently woke up after a birthday, sick as a dog, thinking how is it possible I’ve got to this age without learning not to mix cava, gin, beer, tequila and port.
MEXICAN, ARTIST When I first came here I re-established the limits I had when I was a teenager: discos, afters, drug dealers, parties, etc. I had lost them. But I found them again. I still like to get lost in space, but only on rare occasions. It’s more fun like that.
SOUTH AFRICAN, AU PAIR I’ve never been a “hard” drug user. The extent of my dabbling has never gone beyond marijuana. I tend to abuse alcohol more than anything, and in that case the line is only drawn when my body can physically consume no more, i.e. I am asleep and can’t swallow, or am busy throwing up because of the alcohol I have already drunk. In the past, I always drew the line at hard drugs more out of lack of interest and slight fear than anything else. But, in the pale moonlight of a Sunday before a bank holiday, the beat of a chiringuito caressing my ears, and a half bottle of wine and whiskey pulsing through my veins I found myself saying “Yes, please!” to MDMA. The words came out like a surprising burp. But no perdon was necessary. Before I had time to think I had already swallowed the home made rolling paper capsule and was on my way to an evening of dancing until 6 to music I don’t even like and feeling like I had just finished the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had and smoked the first cigarette of the best day of my life. Getting shitty on alcohol makes your moral judgments as fuzzy as your vision. So where do I draw the line when it comes to drugs? The more the alcohol, the further the horizon.
GREEK, SECURITY GUARD I don’t do drugs or drink, so my limit is set at zero. I’ve worked in clubs as a doorman/security guard in places like Cat Walk, La Terrrazza and Salvation, so I’ve seen so many fucked up faces that it has no appeal for me. After a night’s work I often wonder why we have been become so bored and aimless that getting totally smashed is an acceptable and normal way to spend a weekend. Doing so many drugs so often isn’t making anyone smarter, so are they choosing to simply be dumber?
CATALAN/AMERICAN, MUSIC PROMOTER Maybe it’s the Catalan half of me, but I cringe at the idea of paying for uppers or coke if all I want to do is stay awake longer. Why not just get a good night’s sleep the day before? Aside from economics, I won’t do coke anyway (too easy), heroin (too scary) or acid (I’m too fucked in the head with my own problems to hallucinate off a lab product.) Everything else is worth a run, but when people stop going out and start staying home fucked up and drawing bad pictures on a Friday night, you’re missing the point. Drugs are supposed to introduce new ways of seeing the world, not ways to run away from it.
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bcnunhinged OV E R H E A R D AT P R I M AV E R A S O U N D BY B C N W E E K STA F F
I THINK I’M GOING TO VOMIT... VERY THIRSTY AT PRIMAVERA: Oh look, free water!! FRIEND: Don’t drink that, it’s apple flavored. VTP: But it’s water, right? I don’t care. And I love trying new things. FRIEND: I’m your friend. I love you. Don’t do it. It tastes like green plastic. VTP: After taking 4 pills you tell me not to drink plastic water? VTP DRINKS THE MANZANA FLAVORED WATER FROM THE HELPLESSLY SMILING FONT VELLA AZAFATA: Argh!! Argh!! This is
------------------------E-TAKER: You know that song about lions and tigers and bears? OTHER E-TAKER: Where? E-TAKER: Right here! OTHER E-TAKER: Holy shit! E-TAKER: No way!
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------------------------EXPERT 1: I’m getting that funny eye twitching thing. I love it. EXPERT 2: I think I’m going to vomit. NOVICE: Oh my God, are you
ARGH!! ARGH!! THIS IS FUCKING DISGUSTING. ARGH!! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL! fucking disgusting. Argh!! This should be illegal! ------------------------DUDE ROLLING A JOINT: Do you want a drag? FRIEND WITH A WHISKEY COKE IN HAND: No thanks. I just had a line and some MDMA. Don't like to mix drugs. Makes me dizzy. ------------------------GUY: Did you know that Sara has been doing the robot for four hours? GIRL: Well, that’s “E” for ya. ------------------------SPANISH: What’re your worst customers? NEW YORKER: Frat boys on coke. ------------------------BRITISH GIRL ON BENCH (HEAD LOLLING): I am sooooo pissed. BRITISH BOYFRIEND: Right then. Let’s go fuck.
okay? EXPERT 2: Yeah, it’s fine, just gotta get past this part. EXPERT 1: Wow, I can barely make you out. NOVICE: I don’t get you guys at all. You want to feel like this? ------------------------JUST BEER PLEASE: Is she okay? A BIT WHISKIER: Are you joking, she never felt better. JUST BEER PLEASE: She looks like she’s going to collapse. ------------------------30 SOMETHING: You know, pills just make you stupid. FOREVER YOUNG: I’ve done five already. 30 SOMETHING: Well you should be completely retarded then. ------------------------SOBER: Coming to these festivals is like playing with thousands of big clumsy dogs.
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TENDER RABBIT A LAS DOS PEDRAS INGREDIENTS
WE’VE MOVED TO: RAMBLA DEL RAVAL 2-4 Tel: 933 293 303 / www.laveronica.es
— — — — — — —
1 Large Rabbit (1.5 – 2 kg) 125 g Bacon Pieces 125 g Ground Pork 125 g Botifarra Salt Pepper 2 Chopped up Onions
6 Chopped up Cloves Garlic A Bay Leaf 1/3 Teaspoon Thyme Olive Oil 600 ml Boxed Red Wine Allioli
P R E PA R AT I O N Parental advisory: sheer grossness 1 Your rabbit may be purchased from one of the remaining animal stands on the Rambla dels Estudis. Salt can also be obtained on the Rambles or in the Plaça Reial, especially late at night—ask around. 30¤ for a half gram.
— — — — — —
2 The Phoenicians mistook the rabbits they saw in Spain for hyraxes, deciding to call Spain I-Shapan-im or land of the hyraxes. This became the Latin Hispania. 3 I, too, have mistaken many things for many other things.
13 Bathe your rabbit thoroughly and pat it dry. 14 Remove the liver and the kidneys and the heart. The heart is for your cat to play with. 15 Detach what’s left of the front and hind legs, bone them, cube the meat. 16 And put the bacon, ground pork, botifarra, liver and kidneys into a food processor or chop them all up together. 17 Then put in the leg meat cubes and mix them in, more or less.
4 But we find solace where we can. 5 Holding the bunny firmly by hind legs and head, pull its head back with a hard, sharp jerk.
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OFF-NITES! WHY STAY HOME AND LISTEN TO WHAT’S ON YOUR IPOD WHEN YOU CAN MAKE OTHER PEOPLE LISTEN TO WHAT’S ON YOUR IPOD? NOBODY LIKES MONDAYS, BUT THEY’RE GETTING A LITTLE BIT SWEETER. BCN WEEKAND CONEXION ARE HOSTING ‘OFF NITES’ AT BENIDORM, ONE OF THE COOLEST BARS IN RAVAL. THE ATMOSPHERE IS CASUAL, AND THE MUSIC IS UP TO YOU. BRING YOUR IPOD OR LAPTOP, AND YOU CAN TAKE REVENGE ON YOUR BOSS BY DOING WHAT YOULIKE FOR A CHANGE. SIGN UP FOR A DJ SLOT ONLINE AHEAD OF TIME OR TAKE A CHANCE AND SHOW UP ON MONDAY NIGHTS FROM 22:00 TO 1:00AM. IF THERE’S SPACE OPEN ON THE BILL, IT’S YOURS. MONDAYS: THEY’RE THE NEW SUNDAYS.
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6 And cut off the head. 7 Hang the remains upside down by one haunch over your sink from an Ikea hook to let the blood drain out. 8 Remove the forefeet. 9 Cut the skin around the rabbit’s hind ankles and then make a cut between these points across the lower part of the body. Remove the tail and peel the skin down and forward over the body. You are both dressing and undressing the rabbit and isn’t that neat. 10 Insert the knife blade by the throat and unzip the rabbit to its anus. 11 Reach into the body cavity, grasp at the windpipe and lungs, and pull out and down. 12 Holding the viscera, shake your tiny fists at the sky.
18 Salt and pepper. Taste a little bit of the mess to see where you stand. 19 Preheat the oven to 8. 20 Mix the onion, garlic, bay leaf and thyme in about 4 tablespoons of olive oil. 21 Rub the rabbit down with oil, inside and out, and stuff it with meat goo. You take things out, you put them back in again. 22 Put this in a large pan in the position that would have been face up with the onion mixture and pour Don Simon on it. 23 Roast it for 20 minutes, then turn it over and keep roasting for 45-55 minutes until clear juices seep out. 24 Put the rabbit on a platter and pour what’s in the pan through a sieve into a frying pan and heat it on medium low until it’s halved. Pour it on the rabbit. 25 Put on some lipstick. 26 Eat alone. Serves you.
El Mariposa BY
T H E N E W S BY
THE THUMB ON THE THE SPOT DE ENCUENTRO PULSO DE LA CALLE
A VIEW OF THE STREETS VIA TIENDA
A Q&A WITH STREET ARTIST ‘WK INTERACT’
IS THAT YOUR PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE TOO? ARE YOU MOVING? ARE YOU ON THE MOVE?
artist wk interact has been making a name for himself as an urban artist for m
people used to say the barcelona style was up-and-coming, the artists came here to participate, to see what was new here. now it’s all gone. there are still people painting. lots of graftourists. local artists are still up in the city, but behind the scenes. in construction areas, empty buildings, and there is lots of vandalism and tagging going on. if you want to paint a city you gotta go out of the center or to madrid or out of spain somewhere. the art is suffering. the people can’t paint all the time, like they want. gotta make plans, find a wall, or go to one of the 2 “semi-legal” walls. and mostly, the street is going to the store. all the artists are getting into organized festivals, making expositions. that’s good too but we’re all trying to help it come back to the streets again. trying to change it back to focusing on the art, not money or fame or just tags.
WHY DID YOU BUY THE ROCK EIGHT STORE? i was working here for 3 years before i bought the store. i started meeting the people, the locals. i wanted to start a collective for street artists. i’m from paris, so the collective started with artists from here and from paris. now the group is much bigger. people from all over, but lots of locals have made this store a meeting point. i help them expose their work; if they have good clothing designs we try to work it all out, keep it going.
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SEE CHANGE IN THIS ARTISTIC DECLINE?
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF GRAF? i’m not painting so long. 6 years. i like to bomb, it’s part of the whole thing, but i am more focused now on the shop and website which take a lot of my time. i’m doing more organizing, helping the artists meet each other, emailing, getting the people together. i like the big murals, making more abstract backgrounds and good compositions, focusing on the artistic side of graf, rather than just the vandalism. graffiti is a huge world.
now it’s going down. it seems finished.
mostly to make a difference with the tags and throw-ups mentality. it all used to have more spirit. more art. but this zero-tolerance approach is reverting the graffiti to pure vandalism. it’d be nice to see more legal walls or hall-of-fames available, more local spots for the people to paint and show the art. but the city is suffering. i really don’t understand it.
----------------------ROCK EIGHT placa vicenc martorell 2 933 177 614
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there are a bunch of stores here in bcn “specializing” in graf. you can stop in, grab some paint, a marker, maybe see some art, some t-shirt designs, etc. but how many of these tiendas are owned and run by street artists? how many shops are dishing out the local talent? and what’s the motive behind the scenes? i stopped in at rock eight for a rap…
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT STREET ART IN BCN NOW COMPARED TO WHEN YOU MOVED HERE?
JUNE 14TH / FIGHT CLUB (DAVID FINCHER, 1999) @ XAVIER BENGUEREL LIBRARY JUNE 21ST / OLDBOY (PARK CHAN-WOOK, 2003) @ CASA ÀSIA
EXTRA! EXTRA! RAPIST SEEKS HELP. PIRATES KICKED OUT OF BARCELONETA. RACISTS SWEEP SPAIN. JELLYFISH PLAGUE. THAI MASSEUSES DRIVE BEACH-GOERS CRAZY. That’s not a BCNeta! employee gone mad hosing you down, that’s the Guàrdia Urbana. Changes in uniform specs have them wearing that horrible florescent yellow reminiscent of the couture worn by the street cleaners.
will lose their flats when mandatory elevators are installed. Elevators no one wants.
Metro security guards are complaining that there has been a marked increase in aggressive behavior. They are concerned because there is no… security.
Remind me why Spaniards are hell bent on owning a flat? The housing market is out of control, we all know that, so why are people still buying? A recent study shows that, on average, 70% of a household’s wage goes to pay the mortgage. One interview was with a couple who had signed a 50 year mortgage! Idiots.
As buildings continue to develop cracks in El Prat due to construction of the AVE tunnel, plans have been approved to bring the high speed baby 75 centimeters from the Sagrada Família. Temple bosses are taking the issue to court.
The “Second Eixample Rapist” was freed in May after serving 16 years of a 65 year sentence. He has asked for psychological treatment. The Mossos are watching him, truncheons ready. What about the original Eixample Rapist? Where is he?
After the municipal elections, over 50 representatives from racist political parties won seats in over twenty city halls across the country because it’s obviously okay to be racist in Spain. Most notable is the Catalan city Vic with a population of 40,000 where 22% of the people are immigrants.
The beaches, as you may already know, are crawling with opportunities: massage, beer, water fría, tattoos, pareos, coconut, miscellaneous jewelry, tarot, and our favorite, hash. Recent scientific polling rates those perseverant Thai solicitors as the most irritating because they just don’t take no for an answer. City Hall reminds us that there is a 500¤ fine for both vendors and clients. I remind you that a hand full of sand in the eyes works much better.
Eight out of ten who solicit help from the Catholic Church’s Cáritas social program are immigrants, the vast majority of whom live in precarious situations: inadequate housing and irregular legal status. The director Jordi Roglà is demanding that political leaders pay attention. He also notes that 65% of elderly citizens survive on less than 556¤ a month — a pension that only allows existence in a mini piso… like in Barceloneta. Have you seen the big blue building on Passeig de Joan de Borbó? That’s the street that takes you to the beach along the port in Barceloneta, and the big blue building has been a squat. This, however, is a squat that the neighbors love. Among many social activities is their “Pirate University” that fights the elitist nature of higher education. Developers want to destroy the building to provide homes for the 1,000 families — namely 20% of the neighborhood’s population — who
In other beach plague news, jellyfish will be your nightmare when looking to escape the ever insistent masajistas. Many different theories explain why the Mediterranean will be a gelatinous glob of stinging tentacles. Global warming and over fishing top the list. You’re 25, you’re handsome, you’re Italian, and you’re struggling to survive in the city on over 5K a month. You’re Luca Calaio and you’re in jail. Calaio, or “El Niño” as he is affectionately called by coppers, is accused of heading one of the largest drug smuggling rings in Italy. He has been hiding in BCN for the past three years while reorganizing his bustedup operation that brought top quality Colombian cocaine into Milan making stops in BCN as well. I bet he was having a lot of fun.
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LISTINGS MAY 31 14-27 - JUNE 13 JUNE
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HANGOVER INTO THE NEXT ROUND — FROM BONDE DO ROLE TO BLIXA BARGELD. I SPENT ALL SUNDAY TRYING TO QUIT, SAYING TO MYSELF THAT I BETTER STAY AT HOME. AND I DID IT! BUT THE WITHDRAWALS WERE AWFUL, MY GOD.
Music Off Art Sonar Let’s face OPENS it, BCN has so many to offer ROJO® NEW ARTthings VENUE that can get really –lost inhip, all the The someone Spanish revista ROJO® rollo artsy events. But — during Sonar the is that and glossy that features upproblem and coming you know where toinaugurates go but it’s a too expensive!! artists/illustrators 175m2 Yeah, money is a on problem, and you don’tThe want exhibition space calle Girona tonight. to h watch TV. So join the Off Sonar. For about 12¤ to 15¤, famous venues, and places around the ciudad condal will have special guests — mainly DJs — rockin’ the house for the angry ones. Good value for your money (if you can still stand the Forum) is the Raum Playa Festival where you get house, electro and techno music from 21:00h to 5:00h on three different stages (don’t miss Funk d’Void at 21:00h on the open air stage). Time: 21:00h to 5:00h Admission: 15¤ More info/contact: For a detailed Off Sonar rundown check www.clubbingspain.com (Spanish) and www.residentadvisor.net (English). by Dominik Gelada
Come on, addiction! Going to concerts is the best antidepressant and nervous system stimulant. Like any normal drug, you also get physically and emotionally involved at shows. But, there are some side effects, for sure. Think about Primavera Sound. Today I’m sick from running from concert to concert, for beer after beer, non stop. Side effects included listening to the Dirty Three concert from the queue while buying tickets for the bar, buying Estrellas for the price of a nice Belgian beer (3 euros), and, of course, the Berlin Wall that divided friends: the ones that paid for the after midnight electronic stages and the guys with the strap. But, a sure sign of addiction is denial, so let’s forget about the bad parts. It was worth it! It was amazing! My favorite concerts? Blonde Redhead, Chromeo, Portastatic, Patti Smith (and I’m not that hippie!) Funniest moments? Bonde do Role. These Brazilians went crazy! Best dancing moment? When DJ Yoda played the Mario Bros song (he also played George Michael, Bon Jovi and Guns n’ Roses). We missed his video projections with 80’s movies. Your body starts to complain from all of that. And then I spent all Sunday trying to quit, saying to myself that I better stay at home and not go to the closing party with Southern Arts Society. And I did it! But the withdrawals were awful, my God. But I know that my next hit is coming soon. Sonar is coming up and I’m saving energy. One weekend to go. It’s the perfect analgesic. The Beastie Boys, Devo, postrocking with Mogwai, Cornelius... Don’t forget about all the hallucinogens from Buddha Machine, Blixa Bargeld, the cool Helsinki bands, taking the sun baths in Sonar by day, while the neighborhood is full of posters telling Sonar to move, oh. Some antihistamines will be needed too as I’m allergic to the public transportation to go to Sonar by night. Olympic Games, trying to hide from the trance-okupas followed by lots of dogs, selling hot, unknown brand beer and shit drugs. Of course they know by your accent that you are a guiri and this makes the price go up. I’ll go for tobacco and caffeine in the veins (and beer, beer, beer). At least so many cool concerts are good mood stabilizers, just in case some wasted guy throws up on your Adidas (or Converse’s). Look to Evan Dando. At the last Lemonheads concert in Apolo, he was beautiful as always, but his pedals had all the effect names written on a big piece of tape to help him remember. He was talented and great, but a little wasted. Want to try something healthier? Avoid overdosing. Let’s try to wake up before 14.00 h and go to the beach. Or just get out of Barcelona on a weekend, and we can sleep on the beach. A good choice is going to Faraday Festival in Vilanova i la Gertru. It’s such a small and good pop music festival with Jens Lekman (Sweden), Ladybug Transistor (NY), Luke Haines (UK), I got you in tape (Denmark), The Teenagers (UK) and more groups, including lots of cool Spanish ones and buttmoving DJ’s to dance to all night long. You might sleep on the beach, but at least you are there; it’s better than going to the Museo del Ferrocarril. Vilanova will be full of students as the universities are still in session during Faraday dates. I’m sorry that the Pepeworld Festival won’t happen in BCN. I was crazy to see Kasabian. I think it’s all The Killers’ fault. I think they have some bad karma here, as the first time they were supposed to come, they cancelled the concert because the singer had something wrong with his throat. I think he is having drug problems, that’s possible. But, we can’t judge anybody, because with these loads of concerts, we’re becoming addicts ourselves.
Theater Evolucionario The company FranzFresciaCircus, made up of Austrian, Martin Reicht, and Chilean, Claudia Fuentes, (who started working together at the well-known Centre Social Ocupado La Makabra), perform their new play Evolucionario. It’s a fairytale journey sense temps ni espai, in which a clown and a cabaret artist gone astray find their way in a show of humor and illusion. Time: 21:00h (20:00h on Sunday) // 14.-17. June Place: L’Antic Teatre @ Verdaguer i Callis, 12 (La Rivera) Admission: 6¤ More info/contact: www.lanticteatre.com -------------------------------------------------------
FRIDAY 15 / SONAR Art Multiviso For only three days Miscelänea shows work from the alumni of the Facultad de Bellas Artes de la Universidad de Barcelona. Under the motto “digital culture meets graphic art” the next generation shows what new technology can do to graphic design. Time: 20:00h (inaugration) // Until 17. June // 16:30h to 24:30h Place: Miscelänea @ Guardia, 10 (Raval) Admission: Free More info/contact: www.miscelanea.info Music SANJOSEX Besides their hilarious name, this band from Empordà (Costa Brava) also happens to have a cool new sound. Every member of the group is Catalan, as are the lyrics of their songs. Some of Sanjosex’s music has traditional Catalan roots, but blended with blues, flamenco and folk, which results in a unique species of fusion. At the Auditori, Sanjosex will be presenting their newest album: Temps i Rellotge. The group’s makeup has changed recently, and with a new bassist and drummer now in the mix, Sanjosex’s sound is sure to be something completely different from ¡Viva!, their first album. For those interested in seeing a talented, young, Catalan band, apunatate for Sanjosex. Time: 22:00h Place: Auditori @ Lepanto, 150 Admission: 12¤ More info/contact: www.auditori.org // www.sanjosex.com by Regina WB
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Music Aladdin Spider Teatre Grec in Barcelona, or for free in Sta. Hmmmm, mental imagery is sorta Coloma dethe Gramanet just outside of Barcelona frightening. Aladdin, on the 31st of August.the charismatic, carpet mounting diamante in the rough covered in Time: 21:30h tarantulas? Ahh, no. Aladdin Sound Spiders@ Parc Del Place: CD Drome, Primavera appropriately snag their creepy name from Forum, s/n the creep-master himself, David Bowie. These Admission: 65¤ for the entire night guys a “tribute” www.primaverasound.com or cover band to the Moreare info/contact: legendary Englishman and his rockin’ hits ( from the late 70s and 80s. The Bikini show is your chance to cover yourself in stardust while enjoying the Barcelonese interpretation of “Hunky Dory,” “Space Oddity,” “Ziggy Stardust” and many, many others. The word is that these guys are like Bowie clones… Now, this I gotta see. Time: 21:00h Place: Bikini @ Deu i Mata, 105 Admission: 18¤ at the door // 12¤ at www.bikinibcn.com More info/contact: www.bikinibcn.com by Regina WB
SATURDAY 16 / SONAR Fashion Changing Room: Fashion Comentrigo, Beachcouture, and Losiento, three emerging fashion designers from BCN, show their ’07 collection at the Hotel Chic&Basic on Princesa. La moda isn’t cheap, but offers a refreshing change of scene from the Bershka and Zara lines. Time: 11:00h to 21:00h Place: Hotel Chic&Basic @ Princesa, 50 (Borne) Admission: Free More info/contact: www.changingroom.org Music Somorrostro An African author with exito in Spain was quoted in El Pais the other day as saying that “We are integrated, but that doesn’t mean that we eat chorizo every day.” I loved that statement because my own personal chorizo is Flamenco. After five minutes this music makes me feel dizzy and whiny. Ergo, I will keep away from the Barceloneta beach this Saturday because they’ve got a big Flamenco-Rumba fiesta going on all day, i.e. bands, cantautores, and DJs till 3am in the morning. Time: 15:00h – 3:00h Place: Plaça del Mar // Playa Barceloneta Admission: Free More info/contact: 620 56 48 48 by Maika Frey
Music Off Sonar Smiles Back: BPitch Ctrl at Nitsa Nitsa’s Off Sonar program brings the excellent Berlin based electro label from Ellen Allien — BPitch Control — to Apolo tonight. Apart from Ellen Allien, Jake Fairley, Sascha Fünke and the Zander VT DJ Team will be spinning breaks of minimal, acid, techno and pop. Smile! Time: 22:00h Place: Sala Apolo @ Nou de la Rambla, 112 Admission: 15¤ More info/contact: www.sala-apolo.com -------------------------------------------------------
SUNDAY 17 Music Headphone Festival While super-torero José Thomás is celebrating his comeback at Monumental right now by killing one or more poor bulls, a small troop of Sonar survivors and electronic music-makers assemble at Niu in Poblenou to celebrate the Headphone Festival. The festival takes place in different cities around the
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LINEA 6,25 ENRIC GRANADOS 52
Sometimes, you just need to dance. Unfortunately, sometimes that is simultaneous to you needing money, and those pesky Barcelona discos tend to cobrar mucha pasta just to get in. Not la Línea, though. Its red lights and modest labyrinth chill-out sofa-filled rooms do not prepare you for the pista de baile. Not only is it huge, but full of people shaking their asses to everything from Spanish hits, to Reggaetón to Beyoncé/Shakira-style tunes. The waitresses will serve you moderately priced liquor with a smile on their faces, and after a few copas, it won’t seem at all weird that there is a shirtless chubby guy grinding up on a pole right next to you. Oxygen is in short supply and when lightheadedness sets in, the pijo attitude goes right with it. So, even though it’s the Eixample, you can party like a Ravalian.
ALASKA SANT ANTONI MARIA CLARET 20-22
WINE AMB SARDINES
LA PLATA MERCÈ 28 TEL. 933 15 10 09
Going every week to La Plata from now until the end of June is a great (and cheap) way to observe the evolution of sardine season. The fish are getting bigger and more delicious by the minute, and this bar is an institution in the matter of frying them to perfection. They're crispy and you can eat the whole thing: spine, head, and tail. La Plata is so good at this because there are
no other platos to distract the cook: the bar has no menu and serves only pa amb tomàquet, pà amb butifarra, esqueixada and the famous sardinas. They're so good that customers wrote them poems and decorate them; these works of art adorn the walls. And for those who believe Catalans are genetically modified to never provide good service, I say get there by happy hour and clients will testify that de toda la vida, they have had a plate of fish and a glass of wine waiting for them even before they cross the street.
BE BOP A LULA
LO N D R E S 2 24 - 2 2 6
This bar is so cool it isn’t even open on weekends. Not even for the VIPs. But, if you make it on a Thursday night, you could be privy to one of Barcelona’s most eccentric bars, as well as the finest make-out room in the Mediterranean. The ground floor is taken up by a huge bar, a small TV and a giant plastic poster of some women standing at a window, rumps in relief. Sometimes there are stools, sometimes not. However, if sitting is your thing, head upstairs to the
aforementioned make-out room. The entire upper floor is made of a zig-zag of black couches, each corner offering a slightly private space for you and your honey to get down and dirty. Of course, sometimes groups, a.k.a. “cockblockers” show up, thus cortándote el rollo, but then again, who doesn’t dig a little exhibitionism every now and then? After a few ron con colas, frisky is par for the course, and the dirty old man regulars love it. So, give ‘em a thrill.
TEL 932 07 25 45
Alaska as in “Anchorage?” “Pegamoides?” No bitch! Alaska as in Gràcia, on Sunday, dishing out some of the finest cassolana food this city has to offer. Don’t be scared by the random crowd: tables of heavily tattooed Latin Kings are distributed throughout the dining room full of Catalán families and friends, and the terrace is largely dominated by cigar-smoking avis and the random group of hungry, lost guiris shooting them dirty looks. Hunger brings them together and snippy waiters keep the peace. The secret is in the food. What takes the edge off better than a little fried fish and romesco? Maybe a beer? Better a Moritz. So, pull up a chair. Yes, you, bi-otch, and thug out to some samfaina cassolana while the avia next to you gums her fish and asks for “més vermut, sisplau!”
CAPITOL II VILLARROEL 199
TEL. 934 19 22 83
Writing this is a little difficult thanks to a food coma resulting from the Capitol II’s Vietnamese menu del día. I am also quite dehydrated, compliments of the chef, a.k.a. “salty dog”. Capitol II is the identical sister restaurant of Capitol, which is just around the corner and does not make the short list for one special reason: only the characters hit up the sequel. Located across the street from Hospital Clínic, Capital II sees all kinds of craziness: mourners, worriers, sickies and healthies… all coming together over arroz frito. They walk in and forget their worries; their minds become occupied with the mechanics of chopsticks as opposed to bedpans, and they know that they will be rewarded, for after your meal you not only get a free chupito, but on your way out, no matter your age, you are extended a choice of sweet red lollipops. The mourners head back to the hospital with a spring in their step, and the worriers seem to take things a little easier, happily clicking their dentures in and out of place while chuping the chup.
at Primavera Sound. As the label claims, “It’s never too late to hear good indie rock music.” I totally agree. Time: 00:00h Place: Apolo 2 @ Nou de la Rambla, 111 Admission: 13¤ (free for Primavera Sound abono owners & Plastic Club members) More info/contact: www.sala-apolo.com by Dominik Gelada
world at different times and invites virtuosos of electronic music to sign up and stream their music for half an hour to a worldwide audience while listeners on-site are provided with headphones to plunge into the experimental electronic sound worlds. Time: 8:00h to 18:00h Place: Niu @ Almogàvers, 208 Admission: Free More info/contact: www.niubcn.com // www.leplacard.org Film Xcèntric: Jem Cohen The CCCB, again clean and quiet after two Sonar Days, keeps with the music theme and shows two documentaries by Jem Cohen. Cohen, New York based film and video maker, is known for shooting in hundreds of locations with little or no additional crew, collecting street footage, portraits, and sounds. The first documentary shown at the CCCB called Lucky Three is a short portrait of Elliott Smith in Portland, Oregon in 1996. The second entitled Building A Broken Mousetrap centers around a performance of Holland based musicians, the Ex, in New York and the city itself, construction sites, street life, and protests against the Iraq war and the Bush administration. Time: 18:00h Place: CCCB @ Montalegre, 5 (Raval) Admission: 3.60¤ More info/contact: www.cccb.org ---------------------------------------------------------------
MONDAY 18 Music Off Nights Monday nights are usually sad and boring even in a city as lovely and lively as Barcelona. As an attack against the Monday blues, BCN WEEK and Conexion organise weekly Off Nights at one of our favorite bars in Raval: Benidorm. It’s really low-key, nada fancy - just a chat with friends over a beer and a chance to meet new people. As a little extra, those who have ganas to DJ can bring their laptop or iPod and play their songs if they’ve signed up at www.bcnweek.com/offnite_sub.html. Time: 22:00h Place: Benidorm @ Joaquin Costa, 39 Admission: Free More info/contact: www.bcnweek.com
Music Fiesta de la música — Focus Plaça Reial As you all know, we support gustosamente all the emerging local talents, and on this very special day, the Fiesta de la música, the city will be packed with bands making some noise. But, from our headquarters, we want to give special attention to the Emergents + aprop proposal, which gives the best emerging local bands the opportunity to perform in such an emblematic place as Plaça Reial. From rumba to indie rock to electro, very different bands with high standards will be performing from 16:00h until 22:00h, live and for free on a huge stage built for the occasion. Some hints? If you’re the indie type guy, give Paul Is Dead a chance, but if you prefer electro music N’sista should do it. Time: 16:00h to 22:00h Place: Plaça Reial, s/n Admission: Free More info/contact: www.myspace.com/emergentsaprop
Art FotoTotal: FotoPress’07 & Friedlander Nothing contra la playa, but contemplating good obras de arte in an air conditioned edifício has its own charm. There are two good reasons to bathe in the cold air of the Caixa Forum instead of jumping into el mar: 1) It’s the last day of the Lee Friedlander exhibition, a large retrospective commissioned by the MOMA that shows 477 works of this great contemporary documentary photographer 2) The recently-opened FotoPress expo that features the best shots of España’s photojournalists. Time: 10:00h to 20:00h Place: Caixa Forum @ Av. Marquès de Comillas, 6-8 Admission: Free More info/contact: www.fundacio.lacaixa.es
by Dominik Gelada
Art Art on Foam You can tell that the Urban Funk festival is coming up when sportswear brands sponsor artists designing surfboards. If you dare to walk into the opening with a Billabong branded wetsuit, we will feature your performance in our next issue. Send us an email so we can get our cameras ready: email@example.com. Time: 20:30h // inauguration // runs until June 30th Place: Iguapop @ Comerç, 21 Admission: Free More info/contact: www.iguapop.net Music Cabaret Hoffman: PAD PAD stands for Projecte Achmed Digital, a trio who got togeher three years ago to put their experimental music in the service of any artistic discipline be it poetry or film. They have played live with Lluis Garcia’s Nigromat and composed the musical background for some of Norman McLaren’s films. Time: 21:00h Place: Electric Bar @ Travessera de Gràcia, 233 Admission: 3¤
Music The Sunday Joint The weekly Sunday Joint stands for raw and funky music from the last 50 years - from original rhythm n' blues to southern soul to jazz breaks, from New Orleans and down home funk to afrobeat and Fania Latin boogaloo. There’s some vintage reggae and rocksteady, psychedelic soul and also lots of oldskool hip-hop. Not all sounds are retro though; the two resident DJs Roger C and Lloyd Thomas are joined by local and international guest DJs spinning lots of nu-funk, dub and new releases. Time: 20:00h to 1:00h Place: Las Guindas @ San Pau, 126 (Raval) Admission: Free More info/contact: http://www.myspace.com/sundayjoint ---------------------------------------------------------------
MONDAY 25 Music Cantautor Jam The Nits de l’Art host weekly open jams at Sala Monsterio where everyone with ganas can claim the stage to play and sing. Time: 22:00h Place: Sala Monasterio @ Passeig Isabel II, 4 Admission: 3¤ More info/contact: www.lesnitsdelart.net ---------------------------------------------------------------
Art SNAR ADN shows works from the Amsterdam based artist SNAR known for a vigorous, colorful style reminiscent of street art. Time: 20:30h (inauguration) // Until 28. July // Tuesday to Saturday 10:00h to 14:00h and 16:30h to 20:00h Place: ADN Galeria @ Enric Granados, 49 Admission: Free More info/contact: www.adngaleria.com
Theater S U B by La Fura dels Baus La Fura dels Baus, known for their multimedia approach to theater, moves the show to the Naumon for today and tomorrow. Two meters under the sea, they present a performance that plays with the contradictory strengths of man: his power to build and then to destroy. Peace? Time: 21:00h // 22-23 June Place: Naumon @ Port Vell s/n (in front of the IMAX cinema) Admission: 15¤ at the door // 12¤ at www.naumon.com/entrades More info/contact: www.naumon.com
Art Imma Vallmitjana Does Pretty, Dirty Pop Ads from the 50’s and 60’s make an easy target, plastered with glossy, happy consumers. The Catalan artist Imma Vallmitjana gives these ads a new appearance and context. What was shiny becomes sucio. Decay, destruction and injustices are the message. The artistic result, however, is still rather pretty. Time: Tuesday to Saturday from 17:00h to 21:00h // June 8-28. Place: DistritoQuinto Admission: Free More info/contact: www.distritoquinto.org ---------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------Music Gabriel Millán Improvises The Venezuelan Gabriel Millán offers a little bit of everything – recorded electronic sounds más live, analogue play with wooden instruments más visuals. Time: 21:00h Place: Miscelänea @ Guardia, 10 (Raval) Admission: 5¤ (4¤ for members) More info/contact: www.miscelanea.info
SATURDAY 23 / SAN JOAN Music ALOUD presents: Peluze + Ghouls’n’Ghosts One of the best independent labels from Barcelona is presenting two of their signed bands at the Apolo 2 venue. Ghouls’n’Ghosts are a mixture of members from Madee, No more Lies, Crossword and Ciervo, putting together all their different influences to make one style, based on easygoing alternative rock songs. Similar, but slightly more aggressive, are Peluze, the second band to present their new album: If Nouns Didn’t Work, right after being a surprise hit
WEDNESDAY 27 Film Fritz the Cat by Ralph Bakshi (V.O.) Based on the famous Robert Crumb comic, the cult film Fritz the Cat by Ralph Bakshi is a controversial, but light-hearted statement about the protest movements of the 60’s. The sex-obsessed feline protagonist, Fritz, quits university and sets out to find himself. Time: 21:00h Place: Almazen @ Guifré, 9 (Raval) Admission: 3¤ More info/contact: www.almazen.net
UNDER THE VOLCANO BY
M A L C O L M LOW RY
This is a diabolic novel of immense proportions and importance, all taking place in the course of a single day, (Dia de los Muertos), in Mexico 1939. Malcolm Lowry was born in Cheshire in 1909, educated at Cambridge and spent some 18 months at sea working as a deck hand and trimmer. He lived in France, then traveled extensively in America and Mexico. He spent half his writing life in log cabins and beach huts he built himself near Vancouver. He returned to Europe in 1954 and in 1957, in the small village of Ripe in Sussex, Lowry took his own life. Under the Volcano was originally written as a short story in 1936 under the same title, with our protagonist witnessing an unaided dying man on the road being despoiled by a drunk. The picture he paints is just like today- we see the poor robbing the poorer, the despoilers and the immoral hailed as the righteous. Lowry expands on this same theme in his masterpiece
that was published in 1947. We follow the painful passage of a fallen man: the consul, or Geoffrey Firmin, a now ex-diplomat with literary inclinations, wearily groping through his own shattered life and loves. It’s all aided by another bottle of anis, whisky, tequila or the dreaded mescal. He’s not looking for redemption, or answers. Rather, he’s unflinching and staring into the abyss. With each simple truth he finds, all he wants is another drink, and another. The close of the Spanish Civil war and the heaviness of World War II are at one moment looming in every corner and the next, are worlds away. Symbols and metaphors leap from every page and the characters have a depth and dimension that only real insight could produce. The result is a true modern day Faust and an unnerving portrait of the general decline of morality in modern western civilization.
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NEW MOON BY
When Elliott Smith died in 2003 of an apparently selfinflicted stab wound, it was the final desperate act in a life already scarred by depression and chemical dependency. In fact, this violent end was doubly tragic since it contrasted so sharply with the fragile, beautiful body of work that the 34 year-old left behind. For anyone unfamiliar with Smith’s music, imagine the folksy melancholy of Nick Drake filtered through postNirvana alt-rock and you won’t be too far off. His unashamed fondness for the Beatles is also frequently evident; especially their White Album/Abbey Road period. Of course, it’s his voice which is the focus of most attention and when you hear it, you’ll know why. Less showy than Jeff Buckley’s but just as emotive, it has a ghostly, almost feminine quality – its sweetness and purity helping to brighten the singer’s often bleak lyrical worldview. This second posthumous record is taken from songs
Smith recorded in the mid-nineties and which, for reasons unknown, he decided to shelve. Since his sonic palette at that time consisted mainly of just guitar and voice, the equally low-fi New Moon seems more like a lost, contemporaneous recording than the more typical rag-bag of unfinished demos and inconclusive doodlings that normally make up this type of release – sky-scraping as opposed to barrel-scraping. Though it’s Smith’s trademark acoustic ballads that make up the bulk of the 24 tracks here (“Going Nowhere” and “Half Right” being particular highlights), we also get a couple of loud, up-tempo blasts (“New Monkey” and “High Times”), as well as a sublime Big Star cover (“Thirteen”) and an early version of the song that almost won him an Oscar (“Miss Misery” from Good Will Hunting). In short: a treasure.
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DING DING! BY
EXPOSICIÓN LA LUCHA / G A L L E RY M I S C E L A N E A @ G UA R D I A , 1 0
Down a narrow little alley street off Nou de la Rambla there exists a small hole in the wall gallery/design store/cafe. I was surprised to find this cozy exponita tucked away amongst so much mess, however, they say it’s what’s inside that matters. So, I took a look. Nice clean white walls make way for this very small, yet tidy exhibition. Apparently there should have been more art to show, but due to last-minute cancellations, I was left wondering “where’s the rest?” It’s not such a bad break though, considering how small the place really is. But, as it is, the two artists on display here have successfully shown the lucha they wanted: the constant fight for young artists to break through and prove themselves in the arts world.
In one corner we have Hase, a stencil-like, slightly rough-edged illustrator, weighing in with lots of color and outlines. If you like comics, maybe ‘Big Daddy’ Roth meets Faile, then it’s worth the quick skip down la Rambla. And in the other corner we have Pian, using her female feather-weight simplicity of two parts gold and black, but all girl. Perhaps not much more than a mere prize-pony style but it’s all glove, baby! This artist keeps it to a minimum, showing off her attention for detail with finely-drawn female forms a la balletistas. It’s the dancers versus the boxers… That said, Leeeeeet’s get rrrready to rrrrrrrrrrrumble! Ding ding!
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ST E V E N D . L E V I T T & ST E P H E N J . D U B N E R
It might be eye-catching and memorable but I think the authors are maybe under-selling themselves a little with that title. Far from being simply a weird take on a notoriously dry subject, this is actually more like a thought-provoking, if slightly offbeat, look at the real(ish) world. Their method is to pose an intriguing question, analyse the data and see where it leads them. For instance, they ask us to consider why so many crack dealers live with their parents when they’ve presumably got all that untaxed revenue coming in. Well, it turns out that since they’re at the bottom of a very steep-sided pyramid, they can’t afford to leave. According to the figures, the average “foot soldier” rarely even makes minimum wage. In fact, statistically they’d be better off working a McJob and safer sitting on death row. I know a lot of us mileuristas complain about how
hard life is but, speaking personally, I can sometimes go for months without getting arrested or shot at. Not many members of the Black Disciples gang could say the same. Levitt and Dubner have been accused of bias (and worse) by liberals and conservatives alike but the overall tone is apolitical and any type of moral stance is studiously avoided. As they say at the outset: morality is all about how people should act, economics is concerned with how they really do act. Throughout the book the main target for their scorn is that colossus that rules our daily lives: conventional wisdom. Basically, everything you’ve ever been told is wrong. Well, apart from what your mom used to say about crime not paying – that bit’s true. Just ask your friendly neighbourhood crack dealer (if he hasn’t been grounded for not tidying his room).
CALVINA’S COUTURE-QUERIA BY
YOU’RE FANTASTIC, BABY ...ESTE AVIÓN ATERRIZARÁ EN 10 MINUTOS APROXIMADAMENTE. LA TEMPERATURA EN BCN ES DE 25 GRADOS Y EL SOL BRILLA ALTO EN EL CIELO. QUE DESFRUTEN SU PERMANENCIA... Holaaa! So there you are dear reader! Did you come here only for the sun? Are you from a cold city? Brrrr there and ahhhhhhhh here, verdad? Or did you only come to see la Sagrada Familia, Park Güell and the sweet white gorilla Copito de Nieve? Well darling, you came too late to see Copito alive (like me) but keep your eyes wide open because you will have the chance to see tons and tons of another very fine specimen of BCN’s fauna: the Eurotrash crowd. It’s no surprise that all major cities around the world get very busy during the summer. BCN is no exception, and thanks to the ridiculously low price of flight tickets, the above mentioned specimen is free to reach BCN streets in large flocks. The Eurotrasher is easily recognizable and has predictable habits. It usually wanders around Las Ramblas at any time of the day, possibly with a can of Estrella Damm in its Eurotrashy hands. Most of the time it can be seen circulating in either small (23) or larger (8-10) groups - rarely alone - and sometimes, when beer intake has reached optimum levels, you can hear it scream. How to integrate into the Eurotrash crowd: If you are male you only need to buy a shirt of el Barça (it has to be Ronaldino or Eto’o), and if you are female just purchase one of those black tote bags with “Barcelona” written all over. The rest of the outfit is irrelevant because you’re already in full Eurotrash and general twat mode.
In addition to the normal summer Eurotrash type, these days a new specimen has been attracted to BCN. This type is officially here for some music festival. The truth is that it’s here to party until its body falls apart. Distinguishing features: big sunglasses and oversized headphones. The glasses are a classic protection from intrusive glances (I can see you and you can’t see my swollen eyes and my huge pupils). And the headphones might be the fruit of a genuine passion for music, or another way to isolate itself from the outer world (I don’t want to talk about what happened last night). So, did you recognize yourself in these descriptions? No? Who do you think you are for God’s sake?!?!?! A fashion freak?! Well, lucky you then, because at the end of the month BCN will host a very peculiar fashion festival that’s more about BCN than Bread & Butter. It will have nothing to do with Paserela Gaudi or Cibeles, and forget about blonde skinny models because here all you will get is an injection of pure imagination, dance, and a kind of style that springs from the hearts of independent young designers: not old bags with a fake tan (any reference to Italian designers with these features is purely coincidental). Be on the lookout for the Fashion Freak fair that takes place from 25th to 30th June. There you will either be able to whet your trashy style to an offensively razor sharp edge, or abandon it completely.
Lady Ondina Osborne
ARIES This past weekend, my child sign, I partied like it was 1999. I laughed in the face of what felt like a never-ending night. I crawled into bed when the sun was just a suggestion in the sky and laid there with my pounding heart. I thought of you in my non-sleep, and how you always do what you want but rarely like what you get. Try and figure out how to keep that childlike selfishness that defines you, but get rid of the lost sadness that exhausts you. TAURUS I love watching your sexy, tattooed arms. You’ve been working out, haven’t you? The way you handle those knives and chains makes my lily quiver. And I think you’re smart, too. Are those dissertation papers you were fighting with the other day? Perhaps the final wording of a doctorial thesis? Yes, definitely one of the two, because the way your head has been working overtime recently you must be one smart nut. Ask me to grind an electronic groove because I’m ready to explore the line you draw between grit and glory. GEMINI I’m going to sing you a song on my neighbor’s karaoke machine for your birthday. Your birthday song is Nuria Feliu’s version of the Entertainer. Yes, yes, I know that the Entertainer doesn’t have any lyrics, but Nuria liked the tune so much she made up her own words that more or less celebrate con men. I chose this song because you too are making up your own words to others’ efforts, and I doubt this is the standard you want to set. I know you think you’re being complimentary, but the result is corny. CANCER What a great time to be you! You’re in a flippedout fantasy place of accomplishment and strength. You’re hotter than you’ve been in a long time and you have a force pushing you that takes away your breath in a way that feels like an orgasm. Lucky ducky. LEO Do you remember that time you got drunk and fell over some steps at that disco a few months back? Do you remember the shame you felt? Probably not, on both counts, because when you get drunk you get plastered and can’t remember where you were, much less what you did. If you haven’t reformed your ways, now’s the time to pack away a vice. Your stars are lining up in a way that is providing you with some massive willpower. VIRGO I’ve been dreaming this week about people I no longer speak to, be it for a falling-out or simply because a natural distance has fallen between our lives. I’ve been saying my piece, and catching up on kids. I’ve been studying the bible and having sex in a trailer. I’ve been driving a Mercedes and waiting tables. These best-of dreams have raked me over with a beautiful melancholy of how things were and have pumped me with an invigorating optimism of what’s to come. I’m passing you some of my excited optimism because this summer is going to be better than you could ever dream. LIBRA A man walked up to me once in a disco and told me I was very special and that great things would happen to me. Then he disappeared. I still like to think that he was sent by the cosmos to remind me that I was much more than the disco muck I was wallowing in that night; that sticky quicksand party land that can easily drag you to the point of never coming back. I want to give you the same message. Take advantage of this place you’re in now to be better than you’ve ever been before. SCORPIO Earlier this week I found myself in the middle of one of the most idiotic arguments ever; its catalyst was a piece of fried potato. The real issue was obviously much more complex, but I still found myself in the heart of BCN with people bustling up and down, left and right, all the while the words ‘puta patata’ were being tossed back and forth como una patata caliente. Ayyy the comedy. Your stars have you ripe for misunderstanding as well. Choose your words carefully this week. SAGITTARIUS An arrogant, pesky and oh-so-divine actress I know was once put to physical labor, loading and unloading crates in a theatrical production. The director was so sick of her attitude and incessant and inappropriate suggestions that he invented a task for her to complete over and over again. There is a similar Sisyphus-like punishment threatening you. Try to figure out how to avoid it. CAPRICORN Author Dashiell Hammett said in the Maltese Falcon that a brush with death is like somebody taking the top off of life so that you can see the inner workings. It’s terrifying. It’s disgusting. It’s mortality. In Hammett’s novel, the character who almost dies is so shook up that he completely changes everything about his life. I see that you are dealing with something you don’t like. What’s it gonna take for you to realize that doing what you don’t want to do is soul-destroying? AQUARIUS And the last book you read? Was it a child’s tale of cannibalistic witches, or maybe it was a book directing religious faith where people are burned to death by a loving god? Neither genre will be best for you this week because you’re in a phase of consciousness that is based in extreme reality. Forget fantasies: you need fact. Did you get that? Stop accepting fantasy. PISCES I had a lovely conversation with a telesales operator yesterday. He called to sell me a gas installation, but we ended up talking about his fear of reptiles and his fascination with gritty sand. I want you to tell a secret to a stranger this week. It doesn’t have to be a scandalous one, just a personal tidbit, one that paints an odd detail of your personality. After that you need to reveal something a little more important to someone you should trust more.
Personals I SAW YOUS + CONFESSIONS
I SAW YOU You were on stage playing bass. I was wearing a red hat. 80’s sunglasses have never looked so good on anyone. Even without smiling you looked like you were enjoying yourself. You rock, Jamie from The Rakes… I think you should email me. firstname.lastname@example.org
I saw you walking down la Rambla. Crystal blue eyes. A wasp’s nest of light brown hair. White nightgown, nearly transparent. No bra. Some things are worth staring at. You're not from around here. I am. email@example.com
I saw you in my kitchen and I cannot figure out which of my housemates you slept with because neither came to claim you before I headed to work. Anyways, thanks for the coffee and nice conversation and if you end up at my place again (Balmes, 9), I'll make the coffee. Oh, and your English is exceptionally good.
Friday, June 1 at about 3pm. I was on my Brompton speeding out of the World Trade Center and you said "Hey!" I looked back once at you, then continued. Then I looked back again and realized that you were looking at me. I was in a hurry, though, and did not turn around. Who are you?
I was coming out of the metro Liceu and my bag got caught on the escalator and one of my brushes fell out. I turned around to pick it up but you already had it in your hand. You handed it to me and smiled and I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in Spain. I should have asked you if I could paint you. You would have laughed at the comment and my poor Spanish but it would have worked. I still think about you.
Last Saturday night, at the Por Colombia concert, on the outside of La Farinera del Clot. You: long blond curly hair, with a small braid hidden in there, brown sweater and jeans, looking for your friend. You gave me your drink to hold while you looked. Well, I drank it, but you didn't come back. I owe you one.
I saw you while I was biking on Gran Via at around 2pm. You wore a wine colored dress, shoulder tattoo and a silver bullet smile...you hit me right on target. If you read this, I’m biking the same way at the same time. Keep an eye out for me looking for you.
I'm a friend of Merixell and lost her info. If you are her, or know her, give me her e-mail please!! www.myspace.com/n0madik
I saw you! Again! Redline. Horta Direction. You got on at Plaza Espanya at around 22:15. I’ve seen you three times before, but this time you weren’t with that girl. You: still tall, still have long brown hair and still have big, sexy glasses. Me: still short curly blonde hair, still blue eyes, still staring. Keep leaving the girl at home. I like you solo.
Last Wednesday night at Sugar you were working and nearly gave me a seizure with all of your flash, but what really sent me into convulsions was your beat and groove. I’ll take the strobe gummy ring and the next dance please.
CONFESSIONS LIKE THE DIRTY PAPI ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CATHOLIC STAINED SCREEN PLAYING WITH HIS OSTIA, WE WANT TO HEAR YOUR SINS. SUBMIT YOUR BCN RELATED CONFESSION ONLINE AT BCNWEEK.COM AND FREE YOUR SPIRIT OF THAT CUMBERSOME AND UNNECESSARY GUILT. DON’T ASK FOR OR EXPECT FORGIVENESS, HOWEVER, WE’RE JUST TRYING TO NOT FEEL SO GUILTY OURSELVES.
My worst class of the week is full of spoilt teenagers, and I have recently discovered that as well as being rubbish at English, they never listen. When I tell them off I sometimes add insults to the end of the sentence safe in the knowledge that they will never notice. It doesn’t achieve anything except making me feel better.
I had the best dream last night. I shagged Nadal twice, once before and once after he won the French Open. I got to touch his arms which are, lets face it, one of the best things on the planet, and he asked for my phone number. Amazing. Hmmmmmm.
I’m an Espanyol fan.
I often fall asleep on the sofa after work and when my housemate comes in I pretend I was awake and have to go from sleeping to Spanish conversation in the space of a second. I think sometimes my eyes go in different directions, which gives me away.
I danced like a twat at Primavera Sound. In fact the only person I have seen with a similar style was a six year old boy with the buskers at Port Vell yesterday.
When I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent (like now) I always start thinking of illegal means of gain.
Since New Year I can count the amount of days I have woken up in the a.m. on one hand; most days I get up around 2 p.m. I don’t tell many people but I’m also secretly pleased.
After getting ripped off on a five euro pill at la Paloma last summer, I avenged myself by grabbing an almost full bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and stuffing it down my pants. Then told my friends we should go, which we did.
As a woman, it really pisses me off that those hookers on the Ramblas don't proposition me. Ever.
I befriend old people here in hopes that they have no family so that I can inherit their downtown apartments.
Last summer I went to the beach with my drug dealer to smoke some hash and ended up having a threesome with him and a random French girl. Now when I buy drugs, I am angry if he does not apply some kind of discount and that makes me feel like a whore.
I pass out fliers for a piece of shit guiri bar. When one of these people asks me where they can score drugs I send them to my dealer who is waiting down the steert. Not only do I steal toilet paper from the bar, but I also make two commisions off the clientele, one from the bar and one from my dealer.
When I’m bored or want attention I call rape and suicide hot lines. The best calls are when I cry.
I watch the cooking channel.
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