CRog

There was Iceland, there was Morocco, there was Guatemala and there was up state New York.

There was talk of a tour, or of chartering a yacht and going to a select number of spots on the coast of Brazil, North America and Europe and then, finally then… there was Marfa.

Donald Judd, Desert, Mysterious Lights, fear of Alien Abductions, Cute Hotels, Swimming Pools and not so far away stars.

Alex’s family and mine, our friends far and not so near… coming together, taking over the town and celebrating the power of knot tying.

We think, this is where we will be married:

Disco wizard, originally uploaded by rurik.

One thing I always was a bit curious, and never quite understood, is the extensive use of the word “disco” in the entourage of my beloved Christine Renée.

“I’m going to take a disco nap” – “That was a disco moment” – “A disco hotel” – or just “DISCO!!!”.

I was musically educated in Europe and Brazil. We had extraordinary party moments in all sorts of musical styles, that involved all sorts of clothes, substances, locations, temperatures, and dj’s. And we never ever considered the word “disco” to be the most fitting to describe our experiences.

Then I met Christine in New York, and today, probably 20 years after Disco started being used as a cheezy term referring to music that jocks would want to listen to at their friend’s weddding parties, all of a sudden the newest New York Dj’s are using it more that the word “turntable”.

I first wondered if this was because of the resurgence of bands like Lindstrom that clearly had a disco revival thing going on. Or maybe because the music world (like all the other worlds) is always looking for something new and when it can’t find it will “revive” something.

But then I noticed that there was something common in the music of a certain type of dj’s, and a certain lifestyle that seemed to match. I’m thinking, off the top of my head, of Lindstrom, Hugh Herrera, Tony Watson, Brennan Green, Todd Terje, Lexx, Paul T., Rub’nTug, and, of course, Dj Harvey.

Dj Harvey, pictured above, possesses an influential power over the said “scene” of people who like to use the word Disco more than once a day. He seems to have this aura, like people one speaks of a lot in their absence, and then when you meet them you understand why.

So I had to ask him the other day, when he came to dinner at our house, “Harvey, what is this thing, Disco?”.

His answer was “Well, young Alex, let me put it like this. First off, Disco comes from the french word “Discothèque”, and refers to the time when people would start going to clubs and dj’s would play records, instead of live bands”. Wow, that is exactly what my father used to do in the sixties, at a club called the “Dollar” in Brussels.

That was the historical answer. But that was not the answer. Here is the rest : “Disco is….not for children. You understand disco when you have..ahem…lived through a certain amount of things, had group sex, taken drugs, stayed up all night and experienced dancing in the sunrise etc..”

Now that was the beginning of an answer. Not a clear one (but would you expect one from a prohet-like character such as Harvey?), but something I could start thinking of. And of course, as Plato said thousands of years ago, when you ask a question it is that you already have the answer. So I did have the elements of an answer, I just needed to nudge them out.

Disco is not about a “movement” of people. There is no clothing style, no real graphical style (as there was in the actual disco “era”), no common lingo, etc… What there is however is a unity of thought. All these people who carry the banner of the flickering mirror ball do so because they share a taste for music that is deep, sensual, complex yet very straightforward, unique and hard to find (non commercial) and entrancing. It is not mono-style (as in techno or electronic music, or as in “old classics”, or in “cheesy 80’s tracks”). They don’t have a common dress code, but they appreciate the act of dressing up to go out (as oppposed the the regular club scene where the same thing means everybody looking the same), and thus get along well with a more gay community. They believe in the experience of the night as being something very deep, enlightening almost, that needs to develop a lot in the late (or early) hours, like a plant that could only grow between 4 am and 10 am. It needs to be nourished with dancing and good tracks – and then something happens.

And I think that “that” something is what Christine wants to protect and nurture in her hotel project.

These are my first answers to my self-asked question. I’d love to see what others have to say about this.

Disc-O-iple Alex

Confession: It’s true. I admit it.

So now, let me catch you up.

The thursday after Doug L. and Chris Milo came for FOOD PARTy III, I met Chris at a bar or club called the Social. From what I understand, it was founded by four of Hollwood’s finest, Charlie Chaplin, Cecil B. DeMille, Lon Chaney and Rudolph Valentino. If you grew up in LA, it was also the cool hang-out, YMCA style for a couple of years.

So, I met Chris there, was given the VIP tour and asked to see the possibilities of me and them. I was enthralled with a woman there, who couldn’t play pool but swore she knew
how to ride a bike. She was beautiful but beyond beauty.

was it a MacKaye’s or McKai’s? porn release party? I’m confussed. photo of Ian by pat.

Our entourage of Chris, Kathryn, the beauty and her man Sean Patrick, ended up at the Beauty Bar. It was Ian MacKaye’s or Eon McKai’s? porn release party, I was told this by an overconfident male who couldn’t believe that I didn’t care.

The OCM told me his name was Double King Dick Dong, so I asked him for his card, “Really? That’s what they call you? Do you have a card?” You know, trying to be LA here, and how funny would ‘Double King Dick Dong’ be on a card?

Long story short, I entertained him longer than normal, to be polite, and finally, leaned in and said, “Look man, its really time for you to leave. It’s not funny now.” And he did.

I drove home, this amazing wind storm was blowing through LA. I was in downtown, it was 2am and I was listening to Olivia Newton John, and I felt it.

So, the next morning, Friday. I drive Alex to a place in da Valley. For the next three days, while Orlan is out of town, he’s going to edit an HD feature. The circle is closing in. The rumors are true, this kind of work is quick and easy money no matter how you look at it.

Afterwards I drive from the 405 t0 Wilshire. From the ocean through Beverly Hills shoppers to the arts district. It was such a crazy trip. Los Angeles, the end of western civilization, it shows its colors in its longevity.

Christine Renee and Doug Chrismas. The future?

I’m driving this way with a purpose. I’m dropping off a resume at Ace Gallery to become their new PR/ Event Coordinator. I’ve worked hard at this piece of paper. It summarizes all I’ve “done” in New York the last five years. It meant a lot to put that on one sheet.

You know, the whole time in New York, it is one event, one drama, one thing after the other. So to try to summarize it, and corporatize it on one sheet of paper, was quite a challenge.

Meanwhile, Alex’s visa is running out. And I’m a girl of tradition. I don’t want to leave him, but I’m not quite there to be a bride, aren’t I supposed to be in opalescent chiffon and in a castle with 13 fairies floating around?

But that morning, before dropping him in the valley, we went to Pasadena and met with a lawyer. She had nothing good to say but there was a turtle in her office.

That day Thomas (Rub and Tug) gets in touch, actually he got in touch the night before.

We’re both felling the heaviness of a city behind a green door and vow to change everything on Saturday.

I descend into the valley, and pick Alex up.

Friday? I jogged at the high-school track near by.

Saturday, I descend, Alex is still working on that Gilles Rosier film I leave him and join Doug Lee and Thomas out at a Russian bar on Santa Monica. I walk in, is crowded. I’m uncomfortable. Doug has helped me, painstakingly to get there. Now I’m there or here and now what?

The DJ is playing shit 80s blurred with White Stripes and I’m open minded, its shit. But… there are some interesting looking men, and I’m not looking but they make doing nothing more fun. Thomas tries to hook me up with someone who is the brother of a famous skate border. I remind him I am engaged. He desn’t seem to notice.

The bar closes at two, and we all wonder where to go, so there’s a house party. In the parking lot waiting for valet I point out a girls shoes, they’re good, and that’s rare here. Thomas says she’s so New York ten years ago, the A.R.E. Weapons days, and apologies for his honesty. But I agree, and see no reason to be sorry.

We go to someone’s house, up the hill. Kid Millionare and an entourage walk by as T and Doug and I are disscusing death. I preted not to recognize Kid, but we know each other, and I question my actions.

alife, new york

The party sucks, and the guy keeps his sneakers in his freezer, no shit. So we leave, for the house of Kevin’s. Thomas and I make shadow people on a fake wall that pretended to be a rock formation. It was really concrete and chicken wire.

On to the house, Mahalo, we must de-shoe our selves.

Mexico, Korea, Brit-dom, Jews, Christians, music and the future. Doug made sure I got home safe, Thank You, Doug.

Sunday, the next morning, Alex off to Valley world. I text Thomas… “Breakfast?” yes he says and he comes and picks me up. He’s never been in a gang neighborhood before, I clean to show growth. He plays Satie on our piano. We embark then on a quest, for food. And we find the Valley of Pinatas.

From there is the past coming in waves. we relive it, and its good. over corn and Moby Dick.

Monday, Compton or the courthouse at LAX? LAX i say, of course, All my time with him has been about departure and arrival, planes and transference.

So we go, pretending it doesn’t mean anything, and that’s the reality. He tries to get sentimental, and I tell him to stop it, and then I can’t help it. Fuck!!

So we get a liscences, and go to the Proud Bird to wait for the paper work and drink a bottle of champange in the midsts of a graveyard and the presences of a current.

We go back to the courthouse and are scanned again, no drugs, no weapons. The woman on the sixth floor admires my ring, I admire hers, a turtle.

We go further, a place in the neighborhood with fish and mariachis and pass out watching that Mel Gibson film about Christ.

We are robbbed the next morning, Tuesday. My CDs, the make-up i got with Edda and the gold budha my mom sent, not the radio.

I do what I can. I do what I can to piece it together. I have a gig, a “try-out” at the Standard hotel the next day. My CDs are the most current, emotionally current, music I have with me and someone sold them for crack. That’s what i get for leaving the doors open in South Central.

So I feel a tiny bit down, I wonder how am I going to tell my parents I’m getting about it all because we have to, while they are in St. Lucia renewing their wedding vows.

The next day, Wednesday at 5:50am my time, I call my folks who are supposed to be in the Puerto Rican airport in San Juan. I know it well. I have to tell them.

I drop Alex off at Orlan’s. I pull out of her driveway in a particular “New York” style. A cop pulls me over. I’d just gotten off the phone with another lawyer, and with a new price of how much “marriage” costs. I’m fucking over it, really.

He goes through the whole thing, criticizes my Texas drivers’ license, and since we we’re just robbed, I has no insurance papers on me which in California this would amount to a 2000 fine… I just spilled it… it was all true, that this moving violation would severely screw me up right now and here’s why, and he let me go.

One thing I know, don’t fuck with police in New Jersey and California and this time I was lucky.

I got home, my parents called me from PR. I told them the news. It went better than expected. Way better.

Right after. Aloe a friend of my landlord’s shows up and begins clearing the middle room for Vivianan and her boyfriend.

They’re italian, and in the true italian style, they show up, unpack for 30 mins, and then open a bottle of wine and smoke a cigarette.

I’ve got to go, to this audition at the Standard, so we do one toast and I’m on my way.

Traffic sucks and I arrive 15 mins late. A no-no in LA. But it works out. They love the set and I’m in on the gig…

the rest? Alex and I came home and danced to Viviana’s boyfriend’s music. He doesn’t speak english, just Italian, but you know… turns out he has great taste and we danced.

New Year Oot Locker, originally uploaded by ChristineRenee.net.

more pics

My (Your?) top three resolutions for 007:

1. Don’t eat meat unless you’re type “O” blood type, even then only when you’re REALLY blood thirsty.

2. Sit still with your eyes closed and your back straight for at least 10 minutes a day.

and most importantly, remember:

3. Not being high is almost as ridiculous as being high! – H.Basset

HAppy MUtha Fuckin’ NEW YEAR!!!!!!!

LVWheels, originally uploaded by ChristineRenee.net.

Still sorting through old stuff, and I found a mix from October 2005.

Its got a funky needle in there that kept skipping but otherwise its a lot of fun.

This photo is from that time. Alex, Agathe and I were in the middle of planning for the film/24 hrs dance party Stamina, and I jetted for two days and went upstate with some good people to a recording studio in a HUGE warehouse like barn to celebrate the day of the devil, Halloween 2005.

Waterfalls and me and the boys rocking out the worst spoken word drone noise ever. I remember Mizz Melanie sitting directly in front of us with the biggest smile on her face. She liked watching me on guitar. Meanwhile, Hunter was upstairs pacing back and forth screaming at us with his hands over his ears, cause truth be told, we sucked and anyone who wasn’t playing wanted to sleep.

P.S. This car, is for real.

in Santa Monica over looking the ocean, he got down on his knees and popped!, originally uploaded by Christine Renee.net.

It was Alex’s birthday (and my parents’ 30th wedding anniversary), and he said he wanted nothing more to be in a place that overlooked LA at sunset with a bottle of champagne and me.

At his friend Mel’s suggestion, we drove Mulholland drive with a bottle of wine stopping at all the scenic overlooks. Then we went to the sea, right next to the statue of Santa Monica, and he got on his knees and presented the ring.

Crazy. We cried, popped the champagne, watched the sun dip into the sea and smashed our glasses against a memorial to John P. Jones (NOT John Paul Jones, but lets pretend).

So its really, really official. For the first time, I’m saying things like, “In 30 years…”

Mizz Mellie Mel (Sexy DJ Lady), originally uploaded by Christine Renee.net.

thanks to everyone who wrote back about the latest CRix. Because you asked, here’s some of the influences for songs in the selection. Spread the LOVE!!!

todd terje

lexx

studio

lookie here get it in gear never fear

Monday: arrived to 60 Thompson around 10:30 pm. Got a six pack and watched basketball on the flat screen.

Tuesday Dec 5th: I can’t eat, flooded by crazy nervous energy, get my nails done with Kate, work out and go to Mangiami’s where Mellie and Alex have arranged a lovely dinner and disco to celebrate my 30th AND he announces our engagement. And Eugene the Poogene showed up as a Mariachi. Pooge, you did it again!

Wednesday: I can’t remember Wednesday. Oh wait, I remember! I can’t blog it though.

Thursday Dec 7th: I wake up its my real birthday and suddenly I’m blue about it. Bing Ji Ling sends a song he wrote in my honor. This cheered me up a lot. Then, I visit a good friend Bridget, who hooked meup with some Rogan gear. Girl time cheers me up. 6pm djing for the Merrill Lynch Christmas party 3rd year in a row. It was insane. After I go to APT to visit Jason aka DJ Spun. We visit Eric Rapin at Lit (don’t go there), Jason showers me with vinyl which I leave at his house. Damn! Home by 7am.

Friday: Noon, check out time. Move to the Tribeca Grand. Mellie meets me there and we roll around on the bed talking, drinking wine and catching up. Kate joins us after her 12th audition for Tarzan the musical. 30 ft in the air doing back flips and grunting like a monkey. She’s awesometown, mostly.

Saturday Dec 9th: Have lentil soup from my fav place on Houston and Rivington, Bereket. Hook up with Mika at her store bringing soup. Back to the Grand to DJ. It goes really well. A friend from the Loft parties shows up. I’ve only ever danced with him there and he doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Japanese so it was a great surprise to see him!

Chris brings Grey Kitty to the hotel. He’s been her dad for 5 months now. She is totally freaked out and covered in dread locks. We go to Mangiami’s where Alex from Tokyo is playing with Phil from No Ordinary Monkey. I see Doug Lee for a second. Then to 205 club where Eric D is spinning. Home by 4:10am.

Sunday: I catch the plane up by 7am… then something crazy happened, but that’s another CRog.

pics from the trip here

We went to a gig Mr. DJ Harvey was doing with Jean Louis the owner of the restaurant Bloom on Pico.

I danced a lot and mostly with this guy who imports and installs tile. He politely asked me, “So you’re from NY. What do you to ‘balance’ your drinking?” I’m finding that once its in you, you can never leave New York.

Afterward we went to Jean Louis with his supper sexy girlfriend who was wearing a “Puss-N-Boots” outfit. She was fiddling with something in her closet and Harvey, Alex and I were sitting on the couch looking at her. Harvey said, “Puss-n-Boots.” and then I said, “Where’s the Puss.” Everyone was WAY more shocked than I thought they’d be. Sawrey!

We gave Harvey a ride home and had a nice moment listening to the Righteous Brothers‘ You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling on the radio while the sun came up. He made us his tea in the english style and then we made for Pasadena.