Although there was plenty of speculation at the time of her death back in April, the official coroner’s report today has indeed confirmed that Peaches Geldof died of a heroin overdose.
Coroner Roger Hatch said 25-year-old Geldof took a fatal dose of high-purity heroin shortly before she was found dead at her home south of London on April 7.
An inquest heard that Geldof — daughter of Live Aid organizer Bob Geldof — was a heroin addict and had been taking the drug substitute methadone for more than two years in a bid to stay free of the opiate.
Her husband, Thomas Cohen, told the hearing that Geldof had started using heroin again in February. He said he had seen her flushing drugs she had hidden in the loft of their home down the toilet.
As usual, let this be a good reminder: Don’t do fucking heroin.
This morning the Associated Press sent out an ominous tweet that I, like hundreds of other people, saw, instantly freaked out over, and RTd. Here it is below. Are you kidding me? The plane carrying the bodies crashed now too!?
Actually, turns out we’ve got a grammar disaster here, not an IRL one.
BREAKING: Dutch military plane carrying bodies from Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 crash lands in Eindhoven.
— The Associated Press (@AP) July 23, 2014
Whether this was an honest mistake or a calculated one remains to be seen. I can’t help but wonder if “Breaking Dutch military plane now filled with corpses plummets toward earth, hits ground in Eindhoven” was too on the nose?
CLARIFIES: Dutch military plane carrying Malaysia Airlines bodies lands in Eindhoven.
— The Associated Press (@AP) July 23, 2014
Jack White took in a baseball game last night in Chicago, where he’s playing this week, and from the looks of these pictures, he had the time of his life. In White’s defense, it’s probably not often that he slithers out of his guitar pedal cave and breathes the fresh air, or is exposed to the natural elements, so that might explain the look on his face. Or maybe he knew, he just knew dammit, that people were taking his picture, and he was going to end up a goofy meme on the internet.
Is that Jack White pic.twitter.com/m94sBgqmxT
— Torque Penderloin (@AndrewCieslak) July 23, 2014
not a fan of cracker jacks pic.twitter.com/mCiKovdTYD
— nick pants (@nick_pants) July 23, 2014
Earlier this week White threw down a cover of Lorde’s “Royals” at a show in Milwaukee, although, sadly, the video seems to have been taken down.
One sure fire way to tell when a piece of popular entertainment is going to be high quality is by the number of incongruous guest stars shoe-horned into it. Like putting hip hop artists who’ve never acted before in their lives into major studio releases, for example. Always a winner. Looks like we’re in for another completely organic and in no way calculated grab at cross-demographic blanket coverage with the next album from Avicii. The Swedish hit-maker, aka Tim Bergling, last seen causing mass casualties at a show in Boston, has got a clown car of an album in the works, according to a recent interview with Rolling Stone.
Avicii has collaborations on deck with Chris Martin of Coldplay, Jon Bon Jovi, Serj Tankian of System of a Down, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day (called “No Pleasing a Woman” — which, am I right fellas?), “a reggae duet between Wyclef Jean and Matisyahu”, and, presumably, a track with a hip-talking, street smart, skateboarding cartoon dog.
“I love it,” Bergling says of the song, “but I don’t know what to do with it yet.”
How about this:
The latest exhibit in our efforts toward compiling evidence for why all teens should be arrested comes from a young woman who calls herself Princess Breanna, who has quickly reached internet infamy for tweeting out a selfie she took at Auschwitz earlier this summer. No, Auschwitz is not the name of an EDM festival or wherever else teens go now, it’s the one you’re thinking of.
Internet: NOT GREAT.
We’ve seen a pretty steadily increasing trend toward taking selfies in inappropriate scenarios over the years, from selfies at funerals, to selfies with homeles people, to selfies at suicides, to selfies at powerful art installations, so perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that in order to stand out these days, an enterprising teen has to go big in order to get attention.
She has since been RTing dozens and dozens of positive support from people pushing back against the backlash, and even seems to be excited about all of the attention.
I’m famous yall. pic.twitter.com/okB3ueKnGG
— Princess Breanna (@PrincessBMM) July 20, 2014
What’s the big deal, right? It’s a place that was important to her and her recently deceased father, she has explained. So why is everyone giving her a hard time? It could be a lot worse.
Ernest Hemingway was born today in 1899. Unlike most of his later works, some of his earliest stories, like “Up In Michigan”, written in 1921, have fallen into the public domain, so we’ve shared it below. The story, set in a remote town in northern Michigan, is one of rigid gender roles, unsurprisingly, and is told in Hemingway’s characteristically terse style. But, atypically, it’s told from the point of view of a female character, as we watch a young woman by the name of Liz Coates, who falls for a blacksmith, have her notions of love crushed by the brute indifference of masculinity.
Up In Michigan
Jim Gilmore came to Hortons Bay from Canada. He bought the blacksmith shop from old man Horton. Jim was short and dark with big mustaches and big hands. He was a good horseshoer and did not look much like a blacksmith even with his leather apron on. He lived upstairs above the blacksmith shop and took his meals at A. J. Smith’s.
Liz Coates worked for Smith’s. Mrs. Smith, who was a very large clean woman, said Liz Coates was the neatest girl she’d ever seen. Liz had good legs and always wore clean gingham aprons and Jim noticed that her hair was always neat behind. He liked her face because it was so jolly but he never thought about her.
Liz liked Jim very much. She liked the way he walked over from the shop and often went to the kitchen door to watch for him to start down the road. She liked it about his mustache. She liked it about how white his teeth were when he smiled. She liked it very much that he didn’t look like a blacksmith. She liked it how much A. J. Smith and Mrs. Smith liked Jim. One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside the house. Liking that made her feel funny.
Hortons Bay, the town, was only five houses on the main road between Boyne City and Charlevoix. There was the general store and post office with a high false front and maybe a wagon hitched out in front, Smith’s house, Stroud’s house, Fox’s house, Horton’s house and Van Hoosen’s house. The houses were in a big grove of elm trees and the road was very sandy. There was farming country and timber each way up the road. Up the road a ways was the Methodist church and down the road the other direction was the township school. The blacksmith shop was painted red and faced the school.
A steep sandy road ran down the hill to the bay through the timber. From Smith’s back door you could look out across the woods that ran down to the lake and across the bay. It was very beautiful in the spring and summer, the sky blue and bright and usually whitecaps on the lake beyond the point from the breeze blowing in from Charlevoix and Lake Michigan. From Smith’s back door Liz could see ore barges way out in the lake going toward Boyne City. When she looked at them they didn’t seem to be moving at all but if she went in and dried some more dishes and then came out again they would be out of sight beyond the point.
All the time now Liz was thinking about Jim Gilmore. He didn’t seem to notice her very much. He talked about the shop to A.J. Smith and about the Republican Party and about James G. Blaine. In the evenings he read The Toledo Blade and the Grand Rapids paper by the lamp in the front room or went out spearing fish in the bay with a jacklight with A.J. Smith. In the fall he and Smith and Charley Wyman took a wagon and tent, grubs, axes, their rifles and two dogs and went on a trip to the pine plains beyond Vanderbilt deer hunting. Liz and Mrs. Smith were cooking for four days for them before they started. Liz wanted to make something special for Jim to take but she didn’t finally because she was afraid to ask Mrs. Smith for the eggs and flour and afraid if she bought them Mrs. Smith would catch her cooking. It would have been all right with Mrs. Smith but Liz was afraid.
All the time Jim was gone on the deer hunting trip Liz thought about him. It was awful while he was gone. She couldn’t sleep well from thinking about him but she discovered it was fun to think about him too. If she let herself go it was better. The night before they were to come back she didn’t sleep at all because it was all mixed up in a dream about not sleeping and really not sleeping. When she saw the wagon coming down the she felt weak and sick sort of inside. She couldn’t wait till she saw Jim and it seemed as though everything would be all right when he came. The wagon stopped outside under the big elm and Mrs. Smith and Liz went out. All the men had beards and there were three deer in the back of the wagon, their thin legs sticking stiff over the edge of the wagon box. Mrs. Smith kissed Alonzo and he hugged her. Jim said “Hello, Liz,” and grinned. Liz hadn’t known just what would happen when Jim got back but she was sure it would be something. Nothing had happened. The men were just home, that was all. Jim pulled the burlap sacks off the deer and Liz looked at them. One was a big buck. It was stiff and hard to lift out of the wagon.
“Did you shoot it, Jim?” Liz asked.
“Yeah. Ain’t it a beauty?” Jim got it onto his back to carry it to the smokehouse.
That night Charley Wyman stayed to supper at Smith’s. It was too late to get back to Charlevoix. The men washed up and waited in the front room for supper.
“Ain’t there something left in that crock, Jimmy?” A.J. Smith asked, and Jim went out to the wagon in the barn and fetched in the jug of whiskey the men had taken hunting with them. It was a four gallon jug and there was quite a little slopped back and forth in the bottom. Jim took a long pull on his way back to the house. It was hard to lift such a big jug up to drink out of it. Some of the whiskey ran down on his shirt front. The two men smiled when Jim came in with the jug. A.J. Smith sent for glasses and Liz brought them. A.J. poured out three big shots.
“Well, here’s looking at you, A.J.,” said Charley Wyman.
“That damn big buck, Jimmy,” said A.J.
“Here’s all the ones we missed, A.J.,” said Jim, and downed his liquor.
“Tastes good to a man.”
“Nothing like it this time of year for what ails you.”
“How about another, boys?”
“Here’s how, A.J.”
“Down the creek, boys.”
“Here’s to next year.”
Jim began to feel great. He loved the taste and the feel of whiskey. He was glad to be back to a comfortable bed and warm food and the shop. He had another drink. The men came in to supper feeling hilarious but acting very respectable. Liz sat at the table after she put on the food and ate with the family. It was a good dinner. The men ate seriously. After supper they went into the front room again and Liz cleaned up with Mrs. Smith. Then Mrs. Smith went upstairs and pretty soon Smith came out and went upstairs too. Jim and Charley were still in the front room. Liz was sitting in the kitchen next to the stove pretending to read a book and thinking about Jim. She didn’t want to go to bed yet because she knew Jim would be coming out and she wanted to see him as he went out so she could take the way he looked up to bed with her.
She was thinking about him hard and then Jim came out. His eyes were shining and his hair was a little rumpled. Liz looked down at her book. Jim came over back of her chair and stood there and she could feel him breathing and then he put his arms around her. Her breasts felt plump and firm and the nipples were erect under his hands. Liz was terribly frightened, no one had ever touched her, but she thought, “He’s come to me finally. He’s really come.”
She held herself stiff because she was so frightened and did not know anything else to do and then Jim held her tight against the chair and kissed her. It was such a sharp, aching, hurting feeling that she thought she couldn’t stand it. She felt Jim right through the back of the chair and she couldn’t stand it and then something clicked inside of her and the feeling was warmer and softer. Jim held her tight hard against the chair and she wanted it now and Jim whispered, “Come on for a walk.”
Liz took her coat off the peg on the kitchen wall and they went out the door. Jim had his arm around her and every little way they stopped and pressed against each other and Jim kissed her. There was no moon and they walked ankle-deep in the sandy road through the trees down to the dock and the warehouse on the bay. The water was lapping in the piles and the point was dark across the bay. It was cold but Liz was hot all over from being with Jim. They sat down in the shelter of the warehouse and Jim pulled Liz close to him. She was frightened. One of Jim’s hands went inside her dress and stroked over her breast and the other hand was in her lap. She was very frightened and didn’t know how he was going to go about things but she snuggled close to him. Then the hand that felt so big in her lap went away and was on her leg and started to move up it.
“Don’t, Jim,” Liz said. Jim slid the hand further up.
“You musn’t, Jim. You musn’t.” Neither Jim nor Jim’s big hand paid any attention to her.
The boards were hard. Jim had her dress up and was trying to do something to her. She was frightened but she wanted it. She had to have it but it frightened her.
“You musn’t do it, Jim. You musn’t.”
“I got to. I’m going to. You know we got to.”
“No we haven’t, Jim. We ain’t got to. Oh, it isn’t right. Oh, it’s so big and it hurts so. You can’t. Oh, Jim. Jim. Oh.”
The hemlock planks of the dock were hard and splintery and cold and Jim was heavy on her and he had hurt her. Liz pushed him, she was so uncomfortable and cramped. Jim was asleep. He wouldn’t move. She worked out from under him and sat up and straightened her skirt and coat and tried to do something with her hair. Jim was sleeping with his mouth a little open. Liz leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He was still asleep. She lifted his head a little and shook it. He rolled his head over and swallowed. Liz started to cry. She walked over to the edge of the dock and looked down to the water. There was a mist coming up from the bay. She was cold and miserable and everything felt gone. She walked back to where Jim was lying and shook him once more to make sure. She was crying.
“Jim,” she said. “Jim. Please, Jim.”
Jim stirred and curled a little tighter. Liz took off her coat and leaned over and covered him with it. She tucked it around him neatly and carefully. Then she walked across the dock and up the steep sandy road to go to bed. A cold mist was coming up through the woods from the bay.
When you think about dance music from Scandinavia, the cramped city streets of Mexico might not be the first thing that comes to mind, but that’s part of why the narrative at the heart of Robyn and Röyksopp’s new video for “Do It Again” is as compelling to look at as the song is to listen to. The video, from the super-trio’s latest EP of the same name, follows an insurrection (featuring cameos from the Norwegian producers), a woman taking her first steps out of a hospital bed, two lovers hungrily devouring one another, and Robyn, proving that, even tied down by ropes, she’s an unstoppable dancing force.
This video, which emerged on the internet yesterday, combines everything that we love to like and share and talk about and make content about and receive content about here on the online: Kanye West and #teens. It’s a rare video that let’s us see those two things combined into one!
The video was shot at the opening of the 6th Ave. location of Fat Beats in New York, Complex says.
DJ Eclipse, who was one the manager of the store, sent it along to them with some reminiscing on the occasion:
Yesterday I started converting old Hi8 video tapes to DVD and came across some interesting footage from that day. Now we had a lot of the usual suspects in the place that day such as ILL BILL, Arsonists, Lord Finesse, Adagio, Breeze Brewin, A.L. Skills, Percee P, J-Live, Mr. Live, Chino XL, Al Tariq, Black Attack, Xzibit, Shabaam Sahdeeq, Rawcotiks, Ak Skills, Rob Swift, Roc Raida, DJ Spinna and many, many more. But what took me by surprise was the appearance of this 19-year-old kid who at that time nobody knew. At least in NYC.”
The annual Pitchfork Music Festival is set to kick off today in Chicago, and, as usual, the taste-making website has curated a lineup of talent on the cutting edge of the music scene. With some 50 bands spread out over the course of the weekend, it can be hard to narrow down which ones to pay the most attention to, which is why you should leave it to the professional music critics like me to do the listening for you. Here’s a list of the bands from the lineup that you absolutely must know about if you want to be able to consider yourself a true music fan.
Beck Hansen, sometimes stylized as simply Beck, is a song-writer, musician, and trend-setter whose experimental genre-crossing, but still mainstream-appealing concoctions have had critics buzzing. The California-based artist is capable of jumping from a delirious funked-up, retro-style dance number, to more maudlin, acoustic compositions. Keep your eye on this guy, because he’s going to be talked about on websites for a long time to come.
Neutral Milk Hotel
Imagine music that’s “sort of like Wilco, but dreamier” with a singer that looks “like someone out of Duck Dynasty” and you’re part way toward encapsulating this Georgia-based collective. Led by the aforementioned beard-haver Jeff Mangum, little else is known about this band, whose releases have been shrouded in mystery, as they tend to avoid the spotlight. Still, their outre-folk and indie warbling have rocketed them to the top of most music critics best of the year lists, so you’d do well to catch them now before it’s too late.
A lot of people in the indie rock community are down on EDM, or Electronic Dance Music, of late, but there’s always room for artists who can really get the crowd jumping, like this Italian DJ who’s made a name for himself by collaborating with the likes of Daft Punk and others.
The shoegaze revival is alive and well. The style of music, popularized in the late eighties and early nineties, utilizes cascades of feedback manipulated into ethereal, noisome, but melodic sketches. If you don’t know about this band by the end of the weekend you’re a fucking idiot.