All stories about "Joshua Stein"

The other day in London I left a bar in Hackney at 11:30 p.m. and didn't make it home to Fulham in the East until 2:30 a.m. It was a cold night and graceless. It was also a three-hour journey to cover a mere distance of a few miles. It takes a fraction of that time to get to Paris, so the next time I wanted a baguette and some cheese, I jumped on a Eurostar from St. Pancras heading to Gare Du Nord. It takes about two hours or so and costs £29 round trip. That is also, for the record, much less than a taxi would have cost from East to West London. Since trains leave 17 times a day, it is almost embarrassingly easy to abandon the UK on a lark. Which I did last weekend. And when I got to Paris, I didn't stop eating until my stomach exploded in a baguette-et-fromage grenade-like conflagration that, from afar, looked like fireworks.

Look, it's the Guardian's "Top 10 New York hotels," penned by none other than former Gridskipper editrollop Joshua Stein. Note the Bowery Hotel's audience-appropriate classification as best suited to "hipster Edwardian fops." [Guardian]

As rudimentary as sandwiches seem on the hierarchy of culinary creations, the format is deceptively complex. If the sandwich were a movie, it would an ensemble film, more like Usual Suspects than a classically star-driven drama. Whereas a steak is a steak is a steak, a steak sandwich becomes more about the team interaction between bread, fixin's and meat. By our reckoning, New York produces more than a million sandwiches a day. Here are some of the best.

After today, you won't have this mug to kick around anymore (not here, at least). Exactly one year ago today, I took over as Gridskipper site editor -- it's hard to believe it hasn't been much, much longer than that. I enjoyed most every minute on this perch, as it gave me the enviable chance to write about most anything I wanted with no particular allegiance to subject, tone, length, or accuracy. In the past year, Gridskipper has dramatically increased its reach and scope, posting tons of excellent material from all over the world (not to mention more than tripling traffic). With the assistance of many talented personnel, I hope to continue that tradition in my new post as managing editor of Gawker, effective mostly immediately. This week will be one of transition around here, with a few contributor posts and guest editors filling in what the holiday weekend didn't eat off the calendar. One of those "guests" will be your new Gridskipper editor, who happens to be regular Gridskipper contributor Joshua Stein. He'll be lurking this week, then taking the reins for real on Monday, July 10. Wish him well, and treat him gently. And thanks much for your kind attentions during one of my favorite years.

[Chris Mohney]

Despite the malfeasance of ConEd, Bondi Road Fish & Chips opened its doors for a preview of its elevated fish-n-chips fare. The restaurant's opening hovers like Tantalus' bunch of grapes, coyly retreating into the future; the manager says they're aiming for Monday. The menu consists of a range of fish -- flown in twice a week -- fried, grilled, battered, sauteed, or prepared any other way the customer likes. But fish isn't the only option. The manager, a former cruise-ship photographer, says, "I always heard that you can judge a fish joint by its meat." Those searching for a kangaroo burger won't be disappointed, nor will the acolyte of steak Diane, as both can be found on the menu. Flickr photos here or gallerized after the jump.

From my new fifth floor walk up in Manhattan's Lower East Side, I look out onto sweaty contorted oft-falling over yogis at Bikhram yoga, the poplars lining Allen Street and a constantly-fighting couple across the street. But the most suprising view isn't of dozens of downward facing dogs but of an entire Parisian corner right outside my window. There it is, the bright red Tabac sign, the adjoining epicerie, time-worn walls with Defense D'Afficher stenciled imposingly halfway up the wall, red-and-white chequered tableclothes, bottles of red and white wine and baguettes. La France est arrivee in the L.E.S. and it is called Cafe Charbon. Upon further exploration, I find that if one walks two minutes in any direction, one is bound to come across a little culinary embassy of France.

After the jump, a report from Paris's new, trans-oceanic 21st Arrondisment.

Last Tuesday (June 6), the New Yorker Book Party took place at Housing Works Used Book Store and Cafe. Mexican hors d'ouvres (beef fajitas ad nauseaum) were accompanied by mojitos. Publicists, fact-checkers, and copyeditors gathered in one corner, their lithe bodies barely contained by Marc Jacobs chamises. Dyspeptic writers stood, mouths agape, staring at the young women, thick pleated khaki pants failing to conceal their arousal, a sprig of cilantro lodged between their yellowed teeth. I saw the best minds of my generation, and they're dirty old men. Small gallery below, or here on Flickr.

Used Book Store and Cafe [Housing Works]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Team Party Crash: Scion Installation 3, Team Party Crash: Getting High at Rock Center, Team Party Crash: Blue Owl Lounge, Team Party Crash: GoTrump.com Launch at Marquee, Team Party Crash: ProyectArte

According to the National Directory of Magazines, there were 18,267 magazine titles published in the US in 2005, including 29 for blind people, 20 about "feed, grain, and milling," and 626 travel magazines. This all begs the question: Why in the name of Graydon H. Carter, would anyone launch another not-quite-a-book not-quite-a-pamphlet? Well, according to Joanna Goddard, editor of the just-launched magazine Bene about Italian life and style, the reason is simple. "Though there is a glut of magazines, we really are doing something different," Ms. Goddard says. "Almost all publications on Italy focus on travel -- what churches to see, what villas to visit. Bene's goal is to cover Italy in a new fun and interesting way. We're not such an earnest traditional magazine. Bene is about how to enjoy the Italian lifestyle, even if you're stuck in the States." The first issue of Bene features interviews with various Italian-Americans and native Italians, but sadly no Native Americans. Mario Batali, the formidable chef behind Del Posto, Babbo, and Lupa, compares cooking tips with Salvatore Tassa, whose Michelin-starred restaurant Le Colline Ciociare is a 50-mile drive from Rome. Batali reminisces about feeding his children duck balls, while Tassa explains how tomato and basil can constitute fusion cuisine (when the basil is from Liguria and the tomatoes from Campania). MoMa curator Paola Antonelli lists her top five favorite Italian designs (ravioli is one of them), and writer Lisa Abend explains why it's not morally reprehensible to spend $2,000 on a handbag. For broke Italophiles, Bene is for you. The mag is distributed gratis at 150 Italian restaurants nationwide, and subscriptions are $19.95. Pick up a copy, pocket the money you would have spent on some shite Condé Nast pub, and save up for a ticket to Rome.

Bene Magazine [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Ara Pacis Museum Controversy, Europe for Tightwads, Athens & Rome Guardian Podcasts, Ristorante al Cardello, Eternal City Eats

What exaclty Toyota and hip hop have in common remains shrouded in mystery for me. While Mercedes earns 100 mentions in hip hop songs (thus ranking as the most mentioned brand), and even the George Forman grill ranks 55 (tied with Fruit Loops and Now-N-Laters with 4 mentions), Toyota was among 2005 hip hop's unmentionables. But don't tell that to the ad execs over at Scion, Toyota's automobile bid at the young urban demographic and their suburban pretenders. Last Thursday, above what used to be the East Village's Kiev Restaurant, small circles of young urbanites gathered to drink Heinekin and bask in the street realness of Scion. Thoughtfully, Scion had provided three-foot polyurethane models of the Scion tC to various "hip" artists and had asked them to decorate them. The finished products were then affixed to the wall.

We all remember the prototypical bike messenger David "Puck" Rainey. And perhaps were shocked by his screwball antics. But bikers usually have an unhinged air about them. Perhaps not the ones you see circling Prospect Park, khaki pantslegs held in place by reflective bands, listening to their iPod in its WNYC donor sleeve. But, then again, they're not bikers -- they're bicyclists. Bikers are those tattooed, often filthy street urchins who roam in packs and have huge quads and an unmistakable badboy joie de vivre. They also now have their own film festival. The Bicycle Film Festival started on Wednesday and runs through Sunday, May 14. The festival is comprised mostly of short films (grouped together into 15 programs) and tons of parties.

The PEN World Voices Festival is the thinking man's Lollapalooza. On stages throughout New York, superstars of the written word will engage in heady and often heated debates and discussions concerning this year's theme, Faith and Reason. Goo balls and moshpits are optional, and thankfully, ticket prices are well within reason. The festival takes place April 25-29 (see schedule). Here are some events not to miss:

Tuesday, April 29
Orhan Pamuk, acclaimed Turkish writer of Snow and other novels, delivers the Arthur Miller Freedom to Write Lecture. Pamuk is uniquely suited for the task, having been persecuted in his home country for mentioning the Armenian genocide. After the lecture, Pamuk kibitzes with also acclaimed novelist Margaret Atwood. Word on the street is that fellow writer and persecutee Salman Rushdie will also be on hand.
Time: 7 p.m.
Location: Cooper Union's Great Hall: 7 East 7th Street
Tickets: $10 - Smarttix, (212) 868-4444

Though usually leery of well-coiffed publicists flinging business cards like ninjas and hemorrhaging exclamation points, the horde of them the other night at Brasserie Ruhlman was oddly appealing. Alexia MacIntosh, Carolyn J. Nurnberg, Michaela Klink, Julia Berry; names crackling with possibility and promise. And promise they did. As the assembled journalists gulped cocktails and sipped teacups full of gazpacho, MacIntosh -- of Top of the Rock -- promised the "most amazing view in New York." Michaela Klink, of Lonely Planet, promised a "wonderful evening." To celebrate the release of Lonely Planet's Cities Book, we were being treated to drinks at Brasserie Ruhlman, a trip up the Rockefeller Center, drinks at Hotel Gansevoort, and finally more drinks at Elmo, a restaurant in Chelsea. Laid back, nursing a gin-and-juice, I took in the eager spiels and popped a crostini laden with beef tartar into my ready-to-be-spoonfed mouth.

Brooklyn is almost five times the size of Manhattan and, technically, is a little bit cooler. Where else but on the L train could one see, as I saw, a Hasidic man chanting his prayers plaintively as is his Sephardic wont when a similarly black-clad hipster sits behind him and similarly starts moaning, from a whisper to slow crescendo, Steam's 1969 hit, "Na na na, hey hey goodbye"? Where else would a neighborhood cafe be filled with more titty then Scores? (Who cares if they're all breastfeeding? C'mon, it's Park Slope!) And where else, until April 11, can you get a three-course meal for $20.06? Nowhere! It's restaurant week here in the County of Kings, dubbed ambiguously Dine In Brooklyn (is this an imperative to the general populace or an apostrophe to Brooklynites?). At any rate, the borough is expansive, the choices encyclopedic and a quick guide useful.

Umbria is the Central Park of Italy: a green oasis in the middle of high-rises (skyscrapers and Apennines, respectively). Umbria might not be as well known as Tuscany, its western neighbor, but not for lack of soul. The region is the home not only to St. Francis (of Assisi) but to one of the world's most renowned jazz festivals. This year the festival takes place in Perugia July 7-16, with legends such as a certain E. Clapton and H. Hancock headlining. But Perugia and July are both far away. Much closer to home (if you live in New York) is Umbria in New York, which runs through April 2. The festival features performances by Italy's top jazz musicians, including the pianist Eduardo "Dado" Moroni, double-bassist Giovanni Tommaso, and trumpeter Enrico Rava. Though these names may not have the same instant recognition as say, the Hawk or Trane, they are superstars in the European jazz scene, a scene that -- for the most part -- displays more acute appreciation than its old New World counterpart. While many American jazz musicians sought refuge and fame in Europe, when jazz came to Italy during WWI courtesy of gli americani, it was welcomed with open arms, enduring in popularity even during the generally not-so-hot-on-America fascist regime. This week's concerts take place at the legendary nest of all things jazz, Birdland, at 8 and 11 p.m. And while the cuisine of jazz clubs in general is rarely as enjoyable as the music, Umbria jazz is bringing its own food. Chef Claudio Brugalossi, straight outta Perugia, will take over the Birdland kitchen to turn out classic Umbrian dishes such as prosciutto umbro (a traditional cured pork) and the famed Castelucco lentils. But the Umbrian fun doesn't stop there. Stop by the Helen Mills Theater, which spends the week transformed into the Casa d'Umbria for wine tastings and food samplings.

Umbria in New York [Official site]
Birdland [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

[Photo: silverman]

Previously: Pete's Candy Store, AOL City's Best, Employees Only, Double Down East, Mummy Chic

Americans, still recovering from a double whammy of unexpected winners (Crash for Best Picture, Chloe Dao for best designer on Project Runway), should attend this week's Rendez-Vous with French Cinema festival at Lincoln Center with an agile mind and open arms. The 15 French films making up the festival's roster range from meditations on facial hair as a semiological signifier for intimacy in interpersonal relationships (Emmanuel Carrère's La Moustache) to the Shavian murder mystery Les Ames Grises. Most of the films have been culled from Cannes, and quite a few have been nominated for a César, Oscar's Gallic twin. The 10-day festival kicks off tonight (March 10) with a gala celebration and screening of the French hit Palais Royal!, a Cinderella comedy featuring Catherine Deneuve as a haughty queen and Valérie Lemercier as a commoner who would be princess. Other films not to miss include the sequel to L'Auberge Espagnole, Les Poupées Russes, starring Romain Duris; the steamy teenage cumming of age tale Douches Froides (above), and Xavier Beauvois' Million Dollar Baby-esque cop drama, Le Petit Lieutenant (nominated for five Césars and earning Nathalie Baye best actress for her role as a tender, flawed, and driven detective). Taken as a whole, the films veer from the sort of score-ridden morality plays pandemic in Hollywood. They show rather than tell, favor ambiguity, and savor the silence between words and actions. The result, though focusing largely on inner panoramas, is no less powerful than Brokeback et al. This year, the films are being screened not only at Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall and Walter Reade Theater, but also at the Westville's Independent Film Center. So grab a baguette, hide it under your manteau, and head to the theater -- you won't be disappointed.

Rendez-Vous with French Cinema [Film Society of Lincoln Center]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Cheap Shots (and Beer), Russian Supper Clubbing, Turlington Does Manhattan, Team Party Crash: Blue Owl Lounge, Wildlife at Galapagos Art Space

At the intersection of Jackson Avenue at 23rd Street in Queens, there are two distinct types of international delights. They both emanate from the large industrial buildings endemic to the neighborhood. One wafts from the industrial pastry makers with the apt name International Delights (are donuts international?), but across the street, cached behind the walls of MoMA's P.S. 1, lurks the other. P.S. 1 recently opened its spring exhibitions with an impressive farrago of international artists. The anchor for the collection was Clearly Renowned Artist Photographer Wolfgang Tillman, whose brightly colored large-scale abstract photographs beg the question: Is a lot of nothing something or just more nothing? Far more engaging are Australian sculptor Ricky Swallow's exquisite wood carvings of, among other things, a skeleton, a bike helmet with snakes intertwined, and a three-dimensional Dutch still life; Clemens von Wedemeyer's restaging of an old Laurel and Hardy reel with German prisoners; and Jessica Rankin's clever embroideries weaving together astrology and cultural comment. On the ground floor, 13 lucky Chinese video artists are featured in what is, for many, their first New York show. Though never overtly political, the work slyly critiques China's burgeoning economy and tightly packed populace. Perhaps in an effort to simulate China's compulsive crowding, the show feels cramped -- but this is largely a testimony to the expansiveness of the work. Videos range from the playful whimsy of Hu Jeming's From Architectural Immanence to the sinister abuse of Cui Xiuwen's rattling triptych Toot.

P.S. 1 [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Ghost Bikes: Death Kitsch, The WarriSlugs, Everybody Loves Clinton, Levitts at Soho Grand, Killer Wabbits

When I walked in to the recently re-cheffed Xing last night, Michael Musto was slurping a Miyagi oyster from its shell. Caviar and juice dribbled down his chin. He didn't seem to mind. And later, when the delicate bright red roe arrived at my table, I didn't mind either.
Xing, the Chinese-cum-Pan-Asian restaurant celebrating a new
renovation and the arrival of chef Lulzim Rexhepi, is perhaps most
adept at sating its patrons, lulling them with flavorful dishes until
finally, after one last Beijing Dream (rum, mango and pineapple
juice), they curl up on the banquette with a hot towel underhead.
If geopolitics followed the menu at Xing, Southeast Asia would be a
much more harmonious place. Here, Chinese spare ribs abut sliced
hamachi; masamman curry lamb and wok fried foie gras graze from the same idealized pan-Asian pasture. The chef is Albanian; the manager Filipino, the waitstaff a melange of Southeast Asians. There was
even a coy towel girl clad in a kimono who refused to speak english
either out of intransigence or inability. Chef Rexhepi's cuisine is
nothing if not athletically flavorful and tirelessly inventive. The
wok-fried foie gras, already a rather strong flavor, came dabbled
with sweet blueberry and lemongrass compote. The cilantro crusted
rack of lamb came atop a delicious crispy roti doused in massaman
curry. The dessert, 5 spice donuts with strawberry dipping sauce,
came in a chinese food take-out container which even when emptied of its sweet cargo, held a pile of excess sugar.
Xing's aesthetic is one of international sleekness and
sophistication. Lush cushions, ambient lighting, attractive servers
(ours came with dreadlocks and bracelets jangling) contribute to a
feeling of hip well-being. With lounge music piped in, Xing may or
may not be trying to hard but if nothing else, its earnestness is
endearing. The prices, something neither I nor Michael Musto were
bothered with, are a bit high. Entrees range from $15 to 20;
appetizers from $8 to $12. But the cocktails are great, the cuisine
creative and all things considered, worth it.

Xing [Citysearch]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Aerial Tramways and Gondolas of the World, Who Cut the Cheese?, Serendipity's $1000 Ice Cream Sundae

After Time Out Paris's paper version folded, anglophones were forced to rely on rather lame publications for listings, present company of course excluded. Happily, a bunch of ex-Time Out writers have risen phoenix-like from the ashes of TOP. Art! Food! Shopping! Clubs! Fashion! Music! Dance! Theater! By your powers combined, I am GoGo Paris. On Wednesday, February 1, join team GoGo as they fete the release of the release of their February issue. The party features DJs, free booze, and hipsters; the issue features William Forsythe at the Palais Garnier, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah playing at Trabendo on February 14, and artist Rirkrit Tirivanija, whose installations are on display at the Galerie Chantal Crousel through February 28.

GoGo Paris [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: GoGo, All the Way to Paris, Art Closing and Opening, Road Movies, Invader Goes 3-D, The Walking Dead

Living in Paris, it's easy to become obsessed with the quotidian. Life here, after all, isn't that bad. Bakeries, fromageries, mopeds, cute girls, even the litter has a poetic quality about it. An empty carton of Gitanes gently rustling in the trottoir. Two group shows -- one coming, one going -- explore how daily details can be transubstantiated into something a bit more divine. The first show at the Martine Aboucaya Gallerie, closing this Saturday, focuses on the Oulipo movement. Oulipoians, among them writer Georges Perec, Raymond Queneau, and Jacques Roubaud, were a Parisian bunch of mathematicians and writers who, in the 1960s, experimented with new formal impositions. Among their more inspired innovations is the N+7 method, in which every noun in a text is replaced by the word that falls seven places ahead of it in the dictionary. You hear that, Benjamin Kunkel? You're 45 years too late and 6 numbers short!!! Anyway, the show assembles most of the remaining original members for their slightly absurdist endeavors. Highlights include Paul Braffort's conceptual Dewey Decimal System alternative in which books are grouped along familial units (all books containing sisters in one section etc.); Jacque Jouet's series of street sign poetry a la Burma-Shave; and Herve Le Telier's found object haikus.

As for the show that just opened January 19, Dussledorfian collective hobbypopMUSEUM, a crackpot group of itinerant artists, propose an in-situ exploration of Parisian life at the Public gallery. The site-specific work, according to the communique de presse, explores the concept of Olympia, from Manet's infamous naked white girl to Leni Reifenstahl's infamous Fascist film of same name. The inspiration, though, is mostly a result of the artists' soaking up Parisian vibes. The collective's last stateside appearance, at New York's Deitch gallery, was lauded with rave reviews -- so those seeking disappointment here will themselves be disappointed. Paradox!

Oulipo at Martine Aboucaya Gallerie [Paris Art]
Public [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Road Movies, Invader Goes 3-D, Le Petit Palais Reopens, Picasso’s Passion for Drawing, Le Semaine avant Noel

Nomads, drifters, grifters, grafters, gagsters, gangsters and gigolos; men with fedoras and sneers, women with fishnets and little else on. These are the bread and butter of the silver screen. And though we Americans usually are all too happy to take credit for our bad boys, the Road Movie Cycle at Paris' Le Forum Des Images happily includes some French guerrieres de la rue in films perhaps unknown to American audiences. There are several American classics, such as Thelma and Louise (January 21), The Wild Ones (January 19), Bob Dylan: Don't Look Back (January 20), and Midnight Cowboy (January 17). But the series also includes 1999's Le vent de la nuit, featuring Catherine Deneuve as an aging housewife, plus an original score by John Cale; Romain Gouptil's Maman, the story of a Parisian bank robbery with French star Anemone as Lulu, a desperate mother; and Marguerite Duras and Gerard Depardieu's thinky film Le Camion, which weaves together the actual odyssey of a woman hitchhiker and the failed odyssey of a Communist revolution. The films all play in the trendy Action-Christine movie theater in the 6th arrondissement, so afterwards, you need not take a road trip to find a good bar or resto for postfilmic discussion. Try the earthy cuisine of Le Cremerie (9, rue des Quatre-Ventsor; tel. 01 43 54 99 30), or grab une verre at tucked-away Crocodile (6, rue Royer-Collard; tel. 01 43 54 99 30), perhaps one of the best bars in Paris -- and it's open 10 p.m. till dawn.

Road-Movie [Forum des Images]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Invader Goes 3-D, The Walking Dead, Le Petit Palais Reopens, NYE Paris: The Morning After, Bars in Paris? Open Christmas Eve? Oui.

Ten years ago on January 8, after a last meal of endangered songbird, Francois Mitterand ventured off to the real Champs Elysees. When he died, he left behind a murky Vichy past, numerous mistresses, and a France much engaged with the European community. On this, the 10th anniversary of his death, City Hall invites you to take a stroll down memory lane, perhaps with a picture of the great French leader in your hands, past Frankie's favorite places and greatest accomplishments. Starting off at the National Assembly (where Mitterand abolished the death penalty in 1981), moving on to the Opera Bastille (a pet construction project of Mitterands'), to the eponymous Quai Francois Mitterand, and finishing up at the L'Institut du Monde Arabe, the route is a must-do for Mitterandophiles. Absent this somewhat strange obsession, the pilgrimage seems a bit dull. Thankfully, the monuments -- unlike the monufied -- are living. L'Institut du Monde Arabe is hosting a wonderful exhibit on the golden age of Arab science (the 13th to 15th centuries), focusing on, among other things, algebra and zero. From January 6 to January 9, the Opera National de Paris is presenting the Trisha Brown Dance Company at its Palais Garnier location, and the Quai Francois Mitterand is lined with floating bars begging to help you get your drink on.

The Mythical Ortolan [eGullet]
Hommage à François Mitterrand, le promeneur de Paris [City of Paris]
L'Institut du Monde Arabe [Official site]
Opera National de Paris [Official site, in French]
Trisha Brown Dance Company [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Le Petit Palais Reopens, In Paris Now, NYE Paris: The Morning After, Bars in Paris? Open Christmas Eve? Oui., Picasso’s Passion for Drawing

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through Paris holiday lights were strung from buildings to terrace. Besides all the shopping, there were things to be done
from going to the ballet to watching Kundun. That's right,
Martin Scorcese at Centre Pompidou, every night a new film, and some nights there are two. From the Color of Money to Wadleigh's Woodstock the films are cheap: only 3.50 to 5.50 euros a pop. William Klein, that great man of the lens, is close by enjoying his own retrospective, one feteing his superior eye. But if this is all too plebian for your tastes, and you prefer the more recherché, head over for a lunch with chamber music at the Opera Garnier. There's a bar; there'll be food; and the cost is of course free this being the season of good cheer and charity. So December 22nd from one to two, two violinists will bow and then bow. But there are plenty of things to do between then and now. Until the 21nd at the Theatre de la Ville, butoh dance company Sankai Juku dance how they feel. The choreographer, Ushio Amagatsu, is a bit a butoh god known from Tokyo to Paris, New York to Riyaad. The show has been the toast of the city; the biggest thing from Japan since the birth of Hello Kitty. So there you have it, Gridskipperions, that does it for me but before I go, "Joyeaux Fetes et a tous bonne nuit!"

Martin Scorcese Presents [Centre Pompidou]
William Klein Retrospective [Centre Pompidou]
Chamber Music at Opera Garnier [Official Site]
Sankai Juku [Theatre de la Ville]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Trio of Paris Picks, Hauling Ass Through Paris, Paris Illumine Paris

The advent clock is ticking; the times they are a-changing. Three events have aligned themselves in a rare astrological communique. The signs are on the wall: Sorry Mr. Foer, everything is broken.

Film and Music: Philip Glass's Qatsi trilogy screens this weekend with live music at the . The trilogy -- Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and Naqoyqatsi -- portrays a society dancing to an unnatural rhythm. The films, like us, are cut, sped up, spliced and shoved back together. Glass's hypnotic music is combined with Godfrey Reggio's hypnotic images. Koyaanisqatsi, subtitled "Life out of Balance," is first up on Friday the 16th, followed by the equally portentous Powaqqatsi, "Life in Transformation," and, on Sunday, Naqoyqatsi, "Life as War." There's also live music by the Philip Glass ensemble. The films are terrifying and beautiful as humans race like ants, ants work like humans, rats race, cities sprout, and sprouts wilt away.

More Parisian picks after the jump.

Paris is a city of obvious beauty. Obviously Paris is a city of beauty. Paris is an obvious city of beauty. The last one sounds about right. This Christmas season, the City of Lights is bedecking its rues in yup lights. Now whereas your New York might be content with some chintzy nonconceptual Rockerfeller tree, Paris' city hall has commissioned 12 site-specific light installations, ranging from the a luminous canopy flowing down Avenue de St. Ouen in the 17th arrondissement, to incandescent foliage dripping from the trees lining Boulevard St. Germain. Having thoroughly slept through Ms. Rooks's 7th grade English the class the day we read The Merchant of Venice, I'm still convinced all that glitters is in fact gold. With the Eiffel Tower still orgasming every hour in belated millennial exuberance and these smartly lit parcours splattering stars onto the cobblestones, Paris is a treasury of holiday spirit. Thankfully, each of the 12 installations comes with a PDF map, brightly colored and easy to understand -- just click on the link "Consulter la brochure du parcours" links.

Paris Illumine Paris [Official site, in French]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Ron Mueck at Fondation Cartier, Le Fooding Awards Announced, William Klein at Centre Pompidou, Secretly Stroking Paris, International Xmas

It was 11 p.m. on a Monday night. The ballroom at the elegant Hotel Lutetia could be heard well down Boulevard Raspail. The commingling of voices shouting, laughing, and singing -- doing, in short, all the voice can do, with crystal glasses clinking, and hundreds of cigarettes being drawn upon simultaneously, raised a din of Roman/Weimar decadence. This was Le Fooding's final night, a fittingly orgiastic petit mort of the week-long foodie festival. The temporary restaurant had shuttered its doors, the jury had made its selection. Tonight, foodsters, the foodgoisie, and fluidies (vintners, sommeliers, and the like) gathered to learn who had one the prestigious (well, highly-respected at any rate) Palmaré award. The awards, which look like black paper bags with a small blue Crueset pot on top, seem almost an afterthought, plunked down on the table surrounded by wine bottles and empty glasses. Competition is trumped by camaraderie, and one can barely make out the name of the winners being announced over the music -- a charming mix of hip hop and Mozart -- blasting over the P.A. system. At one point, a Catherine Zeta-Jones look-alike, fueled no doubt by her rapturous love of cuisine and the permissive atmosphere, leaped up on her banquet table and danced wildly, limbs flying about like a beautiful hurdy-gurdy octopus. At a certain point, she began smashing wine glasses and pouring Cahors onto fellow revelers. Half the diners looked aghast, half clapped wildly. Then the DJ spun Daft Punk and the whole room was lifted out of their seats -- young and old alike -- and united in their hip gyrations, joie de vivre, and gleeful Gallic drunkenness.

Winners and mini-reviews after the jump.

If you're in Paris and jonesing for some Jewish reggae (and why wouldn't you be?) this Jewdi -- the 29th of Cheshvan 5766 or, as you may better know it December 1st -- is your day. Matisyahu, who already has a considerable fan base in the States, brings his Hasidic reggae to the 19th arrondissement's Trabendo club. The six-foot tall, bearded, black-hatted, tallit-wearing Matisyahu, once the Phish-loving White Plains hippie Matthew Miller, belongs to that genre of Jewish music dedicated to "Proving Jews Got Soul." His compatriots in the scene include Steven Bernstein of the Millennial Territory Orchestra and Hoboken's own Yo La Tengo. Matisyahu's 2004 debut album Shake off The Dust ... Arise made it clear that he is neither an ironic novelty nor a one-trick sensation. He is simply the new mensch on the block.

Matisyahu [Official site]
Le Trabendo [Official site, in French]
Steven Bernstein: Evaluating The Diaspora Series [All About Jazz]
Yo La Tengo [Official site]

[Photo: JDub Records]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Digital Living Festival, Music Mash, BlackXS Rock Fest, Paris Rawk, Nuit Blanche Inspires Soul, Breaks Face

That Thanksgiving doesn't exist in Paris means the following: No ugly preschool art projects involving inflated rubber surgical gloves made to look like a turkey, no black construction paper pilgrim hats with tinfoil buckles, and no tryptophan comas, cranberry sauce hemorrhages, or stuffing of stuffing. But be not bereft, American in Paris. Though T-Day will pass you by with nary a toast nor even a nod to the great white American myth, there is plenty to be thankful for. Starting Monday (11/28) and lasting till Monday next (12/5), Le Fooding will be hosting its sixth annual Fooding week in Paris. What is behind this achingly familiar present participle? Le Fooding is a foodie movement much like Italy's Slow Food that seeks to reinvigorate the dining experience. The Fooding politburo chiefs, however, are no stodgy traditionalists. The emphasis is on good, cheap, yummy food and -- sweetly -- drinks. With a serious knack for party planning, the week's organizers have created a temporary restaurant in Village St. Paul dubbed "Le Vianderie," in which meat shall be prepared and served by a different chef each night and sucked down by those willing to pay €5 a pop for a meal. €5? C'mon now, that is almost obscenely awesome! Other highlights -- and they're all highlights -- are the Speakeasies, held every night though one must somehow obtain a password; try checking the website obsessively. I've done it at least 10 times within the last 8 minutes, though of course I also go to the New York Times site about 30 times a day, so ... There's also a nightly event called "La cuisine au beurre par les filles," or "the cooking of butter by girls." Not surprisingly, each night a different girl will cook butter in a recipe of her choosing at Paris's mecca of gourmet shopping, Le Grande Epicerie Paris. For all these things, O Lord, we thank thee. For Paris, for Girls, for Butter, for Meat, for Food, and for Fooding.

However, if you still absolutely need to get some Thanksgiving fixins, try the Marais's Thanksgiving restaurant. Though booked up for the actual day, the weekend following is not so full. The prix fixe includes standbys such as smothered greens, buttery smashed potatoes, and of course turkey, as well as effed-up dishes such as mini crawfish pie, lavender-scented cornbread and Cointreau cranberry sauce. The Cajun restaurant gets mixed reviews, but beggars can't be choosers, right? I have a reservation for Saturday at 8:30 p.m. for two people which I am not going to use. First person to ask for it via an email to tips@gridskipper.com gets the rez.

Le Fooding [Official site, in French]
Le Grande Epicerie Paris [Official site, in French]
Thanksgiving [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Beaujolais Nouveau Wino Weekend Begins, Best Lebanese Dining in Paris: El Fares, Best Lebanese Dining in Paris: La Taverne du Nil, Roundup Roundup #4, Roundup Roundup #3

The evening of November 16 is an exciting night for fans of non-narrative music made by artists whose names are ambiguously pronounced. At the Elysée Montmartre, you've got Sigur Rós's [Sigur Ross? Sigur Rose? Sigur Row?] atmospheric epic soundscapes. And for those a bit more recherché in their musical tastes, the meditative music of Steve Reich ("reich" as in the German government, or the first syllable of the last name of former Times food critic-cum-Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl?) is paired with the slightly more sexually exuberant oeuvre of Frank Zappa (i.e. "G-Spot Tornado") at Théâtre du Châtelet as part of Paris's Festival D'Automne. Zappa's stochiastic The Yellow Shark is a 19-section suite whose parts can, and will, be chosen at random and performed by a wind quintet and string quartet, also known as a wind and string nontet. Reich's You Are (Variations) will have its French premiere.

Elysée Montmartre [Official site]
Sigur Rós [Official site, in Icelandic]
Steve Reich [Official site]
Frank Zappa [Official site]
Festival D'Automne a Paris [Official site]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Roundup Roundup #5, BlackXS Rock Fest, Festival Rock en Seine, Mapping the City, Paris Rawk

Where's Gille Pontecorvo when you need him? With the typical French elan for symbolism, the French government reinstated a 1955 law originally used to quell revolt in Algeria. The law allows the Cabinet to declare a state of emergency (which it immediately did), allows regional leaders to apply curfew and restrict movements (which they have, making it illegal for unaccompanied 16-year-olds to make their traditional midnight-with-a-Molotov cocktail stroll), directs the closing of public meeting places, and fascinatingly fascistly, empowers the authorities to censor the press, broadcast media, film, and theatre performances. C'mon, we all know Chats is a Chiracian propaganda machine!!

But if this news has got you down, chin up! Forbes is offering the chance to send yourself an email 20 years in the future. So if the world hasn't already gone to hell in handbasket, you can at least give Future You a shout-out from the You of Today. Beware trying to email your ex-girlfriends ("Remember that guy, Joshua Stein? Man, he was so sweet. Don't you miss him sometimes? And, don't you sometimes -- if you're honest with yourself -- think he might have really been the one ... you know, the ONE?"), because they send an email confirmation in the present and that makes for really awkward fumbling explanations. If only I had had a 10-year-old Josh email that warning to me now, I would be and/or would have been a whole lot better off.

Battle of Algiers [French Culture]
The E-Mail Time Capsule [Forbes]
Violence wanes as France invokes emergency powers [Yahoo!]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Paris Burning?, Paris Riots Continue

Though it sounds like an oxymoron -- at least that's what I heard -- BlackXS is neither extra-small nor black. Discuss. Seriously folks, BlackXS is in truth maybe the best music festival to hit these here parts since August's Rock en Seine. This six-day festival from November 3 to 9 is sponsored by the music mag Les Inrockuptibles and travels from Paris to Lille to Nantes and finally Bordeaux, carrying with it a retinue of highly respected acts. This year's festival draws heavily from New York's seemingly inexhaustible talent pool. The lineup is surprisingly indie, with a few big names and many smaller acts. Cat "I always wanted to be in a Truffaut film" Power and T. Rex-wannabe Devendra Banhart are the best of the biggest. Gay icon/musical genius Antony and the Johnsons, and least-appreciated most-talented Martha Wainright demonstrate "a full mastery of the American idiom" according to BlackXS organizers. To buy tickets, visit FNAC or Virgin or online. Tickets start at around €20 per day.

BlackXS [Official site]
Les Inrockuptibles [Official site, in French]

[Joshua Stein]

Previously: Festival Rock en Seine, Mapping the City, Paris Rawk, Nuit Blanche Inspires Soul, Breaks Face, Café Charbon