Electro-hip Canadians at the forefront of back-to-basics dance, these two call themselves the Crystal Castles. The duo has been blazing trails, from their very successful promotional tour to their debut EP Crystal Castles, a lo-fi triumph. The Castles also have been commissioned for several remixes, like the Klaxon’s “Atlantis to Interzone” and Bloc Party’s “Hunting for Witches”, that are bound to hit your next dance party.

Pint-sized yelps and coos from the lead singer, Alice Glass compliment the work of Ethan Kath, a very talented multi-instrumentalist and the brains behind the beats. Rich, classic synth sounds create elegant and gothic grooves. Tracks like “Crimewave” tastefully rearrange vocals into hypnotic melodies as crunchy drums pound away with brute force. Glass’s penchant for yelling into a distorted microphone reinforces the album’s aggressive nature and yet keys delicately “plink” away and dissolve like fine shards dropping onto marble floors. Even more interesting, I found, is that Kath uses a modified keyboard with an oscillator from an Atari 5200 to achieve his now signature retro-video game ambiance. When I saw these two live I was nothing less than blown away. Think pretty, dancey and raw. Think Castlevania for Super Nintendo. ——Willam

Best Tracks: “Atlantis to Interzone”, “Courtship Dating” “Crimewave”, “Knights”

http://www.myspace.com/crystalcastles

Carla Bruni-Sarkozy makes Angelina Jolie look like a choir girl. With lovers that span the gamut—rock stars, actors, philosophers, socialists, married men, her lover’s son (Mon Dieu!), and now, world leaders—nothing is off limits for this minx. Nonplussed and unapologetic about her trysts, she has been quoted as saying, “I’m monogamous occasionally, but I prefer polygamy and polyandry. Love lasts a long time, but burning desire, two to three weeks.” Those are big words from someone who’s married to the president of France.

The one thing that has remained constant in Carla’s life is her music. In a world of albums from Paris Hilton and Heidi Montag, it normally would be hard to take Carla Bruni’s music seriously. However, unlike the former, homegirl’s got skills. And for someone who’s so uninhibited, her music is suprisingly folky and raw. She has described her songs as “lullabies which envelop you like a caress,” and I can’t argue with her.

Carla’s third album, Comme si de rien n’était (As If Nothing Had Happened) hits the shelves on Tues, July 15, and you can catch it online for free right now. I’ll be listening to it just to get a load of the much-hyped ode to her husband, Nicolas Sarkosy, Ma Came (translation, ahem, “my junk”). If this album is anything like her last, I might have my own Ma Came.

For the past oh, 20 years or so, I’ve employed a tried-and-true cocktail mixology method called “Just Add Vodka.” But lately, I’ve been thinking I need to step up my game a little bit. I’m hoping this book, Hip Sips will help. Author Lucy Brennan shares the recipes of the renowned cocktails served at her Portland-based bar, 820. Each drink is chock full of interesting and creative combinations of herbs, flavorings and fruit infusions (hmmm, sound like anything else we know?). Seriously, with concoctions such as avocado

daiquiris and guava cosmos, my booze never had it so good.

Since we’re talking about books, here’s my favorite right now…

Narcisa: Our Lady of Ashes is Jonathan Shaw’s first leap into the world of shock literature. Based on a true story and set in the hot urban sprawl of Rio de Janeiro, Shaw’s tale follows the twisted love affair between a middle-aged gypsy and the beautifully manipulative and insane young prostitute, Narcisa, with hilarious, poignant and often tragic detail. Recounted in three years of diary entries, Shaw’s character navigates the teeming slums and lice-infested flop houses of Rio and stumbles along a secret passage to enlightenment at the hands of a gyrating Buddhist Dakini. Through this dark, hilarious litany of doomed love, drug addiction, compulsive sex and mutual enslavement, Shaw proves that it is possible to follow your heart and never once be degraded by self pity.

Great summer book for laying on the beach, your bed or someone else’s. Check out Shaw’s website: http://www.scabvendor.com/

—noir_profund

The world is a-buzz about the Amazon Kindle. But I’m not biting. It’s not because I’m a techonophobe. No, I’ll never get a Kindle because I love real books too much. I love the crack of a hardback when I open it for the first time. I love the scratch of my pen against the inside cover as I write my name. I love the smell of fresh paper and ink. I even love the paper stock of the pages – a heavy, grainy texture that’s soft to the touch.

A Kindle also would rob me of one of my favorite pastimes—a trip to the bookstore. In my opinion, there is no bad bookstore. Though I’m partial to the musty, dusty atmosphere of an old used bookstore, I also welcome the incense and patchouli-scented environs of the maverick independent shop. I don’t even mind the slick sensory overload of the megastores.

For the most part, technology is my friend. I’m more likely to download a song than buy a CD. I’m more likely to get my news from an online feed than a newspaper. And Facebook chat works just as well—if not better—than an actual phone call. If there’s something new in music, fashion, or social networking, bring it. Just don’t be messin’ with my books, bitches.

I’m into the show “Swingtown” like a set of keys in a Tupperware bowl. It’s irreverent. It’s naughty. It’s my summertime guilty pleasure. But wait, wasn’t Sex and the City, The Movie supposed to be my big guilty pleasure this summer? How did a show that’s basically about our parents or (Lord have mercy) our grandparents that takes place 32 years ago in the boring old ‘burbs end up being fresher and edgier than the big movie that takes place in the city and even has “sex” in the title? I have four good reasons.

1. Swingtown is intentionally cheesy. SATC is just cheesy. With Grant Show’s big moustache and lines like, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’,” one cringes, but in a good way. He’s supposed to be a douche. Plus, it was the ‘70s, and it was cool to say shit like that. When Carrie Bradshaw does her impromptu closet fashion show and talks about “love” with her starry-eyed assistant, I don’t feel a sentimental sense of friendship; I feel my lactose intolerance kicking in.

2. They dress for success. Trina Decker’s cleavage-bearing halter dresses, even in ’76, bring sexy back. A white dress with a flower the size of a Smart Car… um, not exactly Spanish fly.

3. They make lovin’ fun. Whether it’s through the help of a Quaalude, a movie camera, or a good old fashioned four-way, Swingtown knows how to mix it up. SATC gave us Miranda’s big red beaver. You decide.

4. Actions speak louder than words. The ladies on SATC talk a lot about sex. The swappers on Swingtown don’t talk about sex … because they’re having it.

__Melissa B