Curvy Aussie cutie Angela White got her start modeling for big boob site Score but I first noticed her on Abby Winters. Although we haven’t mentioned it much around here, UR readers are familiar with the Australian amateur site, right? It’s like SuicideGirls without the tattoos and piercings or FTV Girls but more natural. White — with her generous proportions, freckles, dimpled chin, crooked smile, and enthusiastic bisexual romps — was one of Winters’ breakout stars who quickly climbed the porn ladder. She now works exclusively for her own official site which on the one hand features plenty of hardcore, but on the other has eschewed her girl-next-door appeal for glammed-up slickness. Ladies, easy with the airbrushing! Some of us like skin with texture.
The pictures below the jump are NSFW so don’t proceed while you’re on the clock unless you want your monitor to melt. Happy Friday.
“You have suffered a great deal, sir?” said Franz inquiringly.
Sinbad started and looked fixedly at him, as he replied, “What makes you suppose so?”
“Everything,” answered Franz, — “your voice, your look, your pallid complexion, and even the life you lead.”
“I? — I live the happiest life possible, the real life of a pasha. I am king of all creation. I am pleased with one place, and stay there; I get tired of it, and leave it; I am free as a bird and have wings like one; my attendants obey my slightest wish. Sometimes I amuse myself by delivering some bandit or criminal from the bonds of the law. Then I have my mode of dispensing justice, silent and sure, without respite or appeal, which condemns or pardons, and which no one sees. Ah, if you had tasted my life, you would not desire any other, and would never return to the world unless you had some great project to accomplish there.”
“Revenge, for instance!” observed Franz.
The unknown fixed on the young man one of those looks which penetrate into the depth of the heart and thoughts. “And why revenge?” he asked.
I recently returned from a 10-day vacation to New York City. Here are some pics and observations from my trip. WARNING: I’ve lived in (suburban) Los Angeles my entire life and spent all of 18-20 days total in NYC on various vacations, so take my ramblings under advisement.
The chateaubriand for two at Keens Steakhouse in New York City. Worth every cent of its princely price tag of $108. The three sauce boats in the background contain béarnaise, mushroom, and red wine sauces, all delicious and superfluous. The buttery-tender meat needed nothing but a few flakes of sea salt to be sublime. (That, and a bite of those silky, unctuous mashed potatoes.)
Keens is also a mecca if you’re a fan of old New York history (as I am) and theater history (ditto). It opened in the late 19th century as a post-performance hangout for actors, playwrights, and other stage folk. (They were also sued for sex discrimination by Lillie Langtry, who was barred from entering the premises. She won.) The clientele soon expanded to include celebrities of the time, who were permitted to store their Dutch clay churchwarden pipes on the premises. Today, Keens claims to have the largest collection of churchwardens in the world, including those belonging to Babe Ruth, Teddy Roosevelt, and Albert Einstein.
And just because, here’s another epic Keens steak: their prime rib (affectionately nicknamed “The Roof Tile”). Yes, it is as enormous and delicious as it looks.
Here at WUR (KUR for those of you on the west coast), we don’t play the hits. Whether we play the songs you like to hear depends on whether you like the songs we like to hear. De gustibus, baby.
So far we have a Sunday jazz thing from Fenster and Sir Barken has commenced with a Prog Rock Monday and a Friday Music Wildcard. That leaves four days open yet, and what the heck Fenster will colonize another.
It’s Wednesday, so it is time for women, singing.
Why Wednesday: alliteration. Why women? Because women are on the whole appreciated in these here parts, in whole or in part. So consider these Wednesday proceedings a musical version of our “sister” Tumblr site. There, certain facets of women’s special qualities are appreciated. Here another: voice.
I really enjoy the incredible variety of women’s vocals—variety in tone, articulation and, especially, expressiveness. Isn’t it the case that women are permitted to show a higher degree of emotional expressiveness than men? It’s seems to be part of the cultural bargain with our biology.
Is it just happenstance that in our current era, still knee-deep in hip-hop, guys tend towards monochromatic tough guy talk? And that when emotion and melody are married to hip hop it is through the importation of women, who are permitted to sing while the guys trash talk.
Not that guys can’t sing, of course, or that they don’t express emotion. But women do impart their own special magic and that will be celebrated here.
For my first spin, I have selected the Mexican-American singer, Lila Downs. She is a good choice given the theme here of what women can do with their voices in the name of emotional expressiveness. In fact, Downs can be a little over the top in that regard, able and more than willing to turn on a mere centavo from an urgent whisper to a determined, vibrato-free dramatic statement, and then quickly on to a sassy taunt.
Notice the constant reshadings of her vocals in La Martiniana.
And her mercurial shifting of both tone and language in Perhaps Perhaps Perhaps.
And her resolve in La Llorona.
Fenster’s colonization of Wednesday is non-exclusive. Other DJs are welcome to set up their own music on Wednesday, or to add to the cache of women vocal performances.
Peut-être jamais, peut-être demain. Mais pas aujourd’hui, c’est certain! (Maybe never, maybe tomorrow, But for sure, not today.)
John Singer Sargent, “La Carmencita” (1890)*
Who knew a descending chromatic scale could be so sexy? Carmen’s entrance aria “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle”, better known as the Habanera, from her eponymous Georges Bizet opera is nearly instantly recognizable, and probably counts as one of Opera’s Greatest Hit tunes. In fact, the tune wasn’t Bizet’s alone: it’s adapted (plagiaraized?) from Sebastián Yradier’s song “El Arreglito”. The common nickname “Habanera” comes from a popular style of nineteenth-century song, and means “in the style of Habana (Cuba)”.**
A Carmen can be made or broken by a mezzo’s performance of this aria. The key is a certain sultry confidence that cannot veer into cartoonish vampiness. Carmen’s allure is in her elusiveness: she’s unpredictable and passionate, and she utterly controls her own destiny. (Also, she hangs out with smugglers and works in a cigarette factory. Doesn’t get any cooler.) The aria sets out her life philosophy pretty clearly.
L’amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser,
Et c’est bien en vain qu’on l’appelle,
S’il lui convient de refuser.
Rien n’y fait, menace ou prière;
L’un parle bien, l’autre se tait,
Et c’est l’autre que je préfère;
Il n’a rien dit mais il me plaît.
L’amour est l’enfant de Bohême,
Il n’a jamais connu de loi;
Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime;
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!
(Love is a rebellious bird
That nobody can tame,
And it’s useless for someone to call it
If it suits him to refuse
Nothing to be done, no threat or prayer.
The one talks well, the other is silent;
And it’s the other that I prefer
He says nothing but it works for me.
Love is a child of gypsies,
It has never known law;
If you do not love me, I love you;
If I love you, watch out!)
Here’s one of the great recent Carmens: the sultry Latvian mezzo Elīna Garanča. Her Carmen (from the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 Richard Eyre production) is earthy, direct and funny: not the least bit coy. She’s also really gorgeous.
Last time we had Genesis, and now again from Belgian TV, it’s Famous Charisma label mates Van Der Graff Generator, led by frontman Peter Hamill. One of the few from the era to stick to it’s guns, Hamill and Co have racked up a long discography of uncompromising music. This video features all the hallmark features of this august outfit. Let’s listen: