Lady Gaga at Nokia, LA
The Haus of Gaga is clearly adept at evoking all sorts of feminine iconography and cultural references, that are unmistakable but don’t feel derivative. The show last night was remarkable for so many reasons: there is a reciprocity to the relationship between the Lady and the audience that acknowledges that each is nothing without the other. She likens herself to Tinkerbell, saying she’ll perish if we don’t applaud, and then rewards us for doing so with a tour de force. She remains just out of reach, but breaks the bubble to connect with an audience member via phone and schedule a rendezvous for a drink after the show. She calls the audience “little monsters” even though most of us are old enough to be her father. And speaking of her father, there is a film at the end of the show that features a black latex-clad tattoo artist giving her the new tattoo on her shoulder, that reads, “dad” as an aria plays. It’s really moving. It was an incredible night of spectacle that I’ll never forget.
Popularity: 47% [?]
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Nobody buses in L.A.
Here’s a shot from my bus ride this morning. In L.A., cars are an expensive way to guarantee our personal space, and nothing says “I’ve made it” like lots of chrome and a big lease payment. Angelenos are funny like that: we’ll pay hundreds to put some random shit up our noses, but we won’t take a bus for a buck and a quarter.
Popularity: 11% [?]
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