Dazzling to the eye with a dark, fecund mystery that's laced with myth and history, 'vamp' is omnipresent in contemporary culture. As an aesthetic edifice it bleeds into fashion and film. There are the iconic sartorial designs that have influenced our understanding of the vamp look, and there are the femme fatales onscreen, who embody the concept with image and action. "A sensibility (as distinct from an idea) is one of the hardest things to talk about," writes Susan Sontag in "Notes on 'Camp.'" Vamp, like camp, with its shrouded origins and multivocal meanings, is no different.
The term seems to have entered the popular milieu with silent screen star Theda Bara's 1915 film,
A Fool There Was. It's a tale of the seduction and corruption of a Wall Street lawyer by a woman credited ominously as "The Vampire." Not an undead beauty, Bara plays a psychic vampire, feeding on weakness and destroying with her sex. With dark painted eyes and a sly smirk she crushes rose petals in her hands, and with her wiles, leads her lover to the gutter. She earned the nickname "the vamp" in the American public from that point on, cementing the slang for predatory females.
From the outset, vamp is a gendered term. (Paraphrasing Sontag: to (v)amp is a mode of seduction.) In one connotation, vamping is a stylized sexualized performance that invokes a looming sense of foreboding. It is in many ways an aestheticized interpretation of how straight men have approached the fairer sex for millennia - desire mingled with fear, agony accompanied by ecstasy. Another reading might reveal the destructive misogyny that turns the virtue of a sexually empowered woman into a vice. (She is only riding the pleasure principle into its inevitable outcome, feminists could argue.) Either way, we fear what we cannot control, regardless of the vamp’s true intentions.
As a teenager, my brother would comment on my short nails painted dark red, calling them "vamp." He had dabbled in NYC's hedonistic club scene of the mid-80s and so I romanticized this use of the term, hoping there was a whole cult of vamp I could enter upon moving to the city. While no such thing happened, I have been drawn to the idea of vamp ever since. There must have been something to what he said though, because Chanel came out with a dark red and black nail polish line in 1994 with that very title.
Recently, the word appeared in Lady Gaga's song "Teeth" from 2009's
The Fame Monster. She sings "Don't need direction...Just got my vamp" as the synth groove vamps beneath: surely a vamp collision if I've ever heard one. Then there was the lesser known glam metal band Bang Tango's 1991 track, "Dressed Up Vamp," which has Joe Leste crooning "dressed up vamp tonight...looking for love and a lonely bite," referencing the bloodsucking side of the spectrum whilst injecting a masculine edge to the vamp sensibility. And I’d be remiss not to mention the ladies in “Addicted to Love” as vamp incarnate.
Quite a mercurial little phenom.
Along with these uses, there are other meanings, too. In dictionary English to vamp is to patch up or piece something together. It is to concoct or invent. Like camp, vamp has its performative aspects, but there is no wink to betray the performance. Vamp does not deal in irony: it is dead serious.
Perhaps most importantly, there are the musical implications of vamp. A vamp is the ostinato of popular music, and the sounds of a vamp in musical theatre or jazz can often evoke the qualities of the abovementioned vamp: a sultry slink, a wanton strut. As a sonic structure it provides the musical meat of the performative aural arts. The vamp can be itself an introduction to a vamp: just take in any moment of Cabaret, Chicago or Sweeney Todd to see this put into practice. And while there's often musical improvisation over one, the vamp itself is musically spare, open to variation, and keeps a repeated rhythm. The visual vamp is much the same way.
The vamp look is never overdone. In fact, it is the understated fashion of a vamp that makes her stand out so severely. The red lips, the impeccably tailored outfit, the silk stockings, the spike heels. It’s akin to imagery found in Coco Chanel, Victorian mourning attire, and in the work of recent greats like Helmut Lang, Thierry Mugler, Rick Owens, and Gareth Pugh. From Theda Bara to Bettie Page and Morticia Adams to Angelina Jolie, the vamp look has changed dramatically. Nonetheless, it retains a stark aesthetic, open to change, with a repetition of the risque.
The sensibility of vamp has invaded popular culture, grasping at all of the arts with its shadowy fingers. Now more than ever, as the word 'vampire' is so laden with immaturity and sexual abstinence, the more erotic and esoteric term 'vamp' may finally have it's day. What that fully means, however, I can't quite say...
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Religious to Damn's first full-length opens with a whispered roar. Strains of acoustic guitar and cymbals introduce "To Love the Machine" in a deliberate slink as Zohra Atash's ethereal vocals melt into the mix. Here and throughout Glass Prayer, she manages a restrained power that's weightless without weakness, showcasing her lithe soprano in a tease that's never too forceful. The first track ends with a metallic echo, seamlessly transitioning into the next. 
There's no question that seething synth duo Light Asylum is one of the best new bands in New York. Shannon Funchess and Bruno Coviello draw from an impossibly broad range of synthpop and industrial sounds, expertly paired with unexpectedly dynamic emotional shifts from song to song. At Tuesday's Knitting Factory show, they opened with the sweetly powerful "Angel Tongue," which has the bouncing melodic brightness of early Depeche Mode and a somber marching drumbeat. By the second song, "Dark Allies," Funchess' snarl had ripped the room in half, her sandpaper scream and rich low voice dripping sweet hoarse honey as she delivered each carefully enunciated line. Rapturous reverie was replaced by claws-out vehemence, with killer beats kissed with the kick of Nitzer Ebb and mid-period Ministry. What followed was a set running the gamut from romantic contemplative musings to cutting aural aggressivity: it was nearly impossible to choose favorites. See the videos below for further evidence...
Ten years after I last saw them play in our hometown of DC, Trans Am is still sonically crucifying the post-rock competition. During an hour-long set at Brooklyn's Knitting Factory, the trio played with dedicated intensity while still keeping a lightness and humor to offset their chilled Teutonic synthfunk. The set included songs old ("City In Flames" off of 1999's Futureworld roared forth with divine precision) and new. In fact, tomorrow marks the debut of Trans Am's 13th release, Thing. 
Subverting the good 'ol strip club adage 'Look But Don't Touch' with her new book of handcrafted "pop-up" braille erotica, photographer Lisa J. Murphy's Tactile Mind is not only meant to be felt, but "felt up." Certainly a (sex) positive step towards including a population often passed over by the porn industry.
Just did a rundown for Time Out New York on the best shopping of this LES strip. Check it out for discounts through March 31st on places I've already mentioned, such as Veda (10%) and Verameat(10%), along with new haunts like Tommy Guns Salon, where you can test a man's mettle by how he handles a straightrazor...
Caught Tamaryn's last show in Austin at the Levi's Fader Fort amidst today's unseasonable freeze. Unfortunately, technical issues cut the set short, but not before the band laid down two particularly explosive songs. "The Waves," which I had yet to hear, is the mesmerizing title track off Tamaryn's upcoming full-length. Its cascading mantras rippled across the open air tent, digging deeper with each refrain of "into the waves..." as the chanteuse tossed her mane. Most of all, it was "Mild Confusion" that blew me away. Epic sustain on Rex John Shelverton's crashing guitars entwined with Tamaryn's soaring vocals, which were both dulcet and biting for the occasion. Getting to hear the song on a proper sound system, the way it was meant to be heard, was an expansive and unexpected pleasure. 
The Beating of the Wings is a rare breed of record, building a sonic bricolage from moody glam cabaret and early 80’s coldwave with an injection of Nine Inch Nails ire. The gentlemen in Revel Hotel don’t deal in irony: they wear their dark and damaged hearts on their sleeves, both lyrically and musically. At first listen, it’s singer Johnny Quinlan's full throttle bravado and sweeping piano melodies that light the torch songs on the record. Lyrically, he doesn't shy from bombast and incorporates a healthy dose of grandeur, deftly dropping lines about god, prophets, and power, even on the dancefloor ready tracks. 
A sneak peak of the soundtrack from Tim Burton's upcoming Alice in Wonderland film has been released, and it's quite dismal. The title track is by Avril Lavigne, and despite a contribution by Robert Smith (the jury's still out on that one), the rest of the songs are by such awful pop punk/rock bands that I'm not sure why I'm bothering with this post. A duet between Mark Hoppus and Pete Wentz? Other tracks by All-American Rejects, Shinedown, and Tokio Hotel? It's a sad state of affairs coming from a director who used to populate his soundtracks with the dark, majestic orchestrations of Danny Elfman along with songs by Prince, Siouxsie, and Harry Belafonte. (Would have been better if he went with Gaga covering The Sisters of Mercy's "Alice" or Jay-Z laying down the rabbit hole rhymes.) I'll be interested to see how this affects the unwavering dedication of the old school goth legion of Burton fans...
Deemed an "unapologetic attempt to build an entertainment franchise around a 700-year-old literary masterpiece" by The New York Times, Dante's Inferno video game for XBox and PlayStation will descend upon retailers tomorrow. While some scholars have balked at the grossly inaccurate appropriation of this hellacious work, the Inferno's website endeavors to promote a decent historical representation of The Divine Comedy and Dante Alighieri, despite the fact that the game itself may deviate from the epic poem's plotline. After watching the teaser below where she-demons sprout spiked phallic appendages amidst a crumbling necroscape doused in flames and ash, all I could think was: where's my copy of The Inferno? Naysayers be damned, there's certainly enough seductive mayhem in this video game to inspire the intellectually curious to move beyond live action simulation to literate Hell. 
The term seems to have entered the popular milieu with silent screen star Theda Bara's 1915 film, A Fool There Was. It's a tale of the seduction and corruption of a Wall Street lawyer by a woman credited ominously as "The Vampire." Not an undead beauty, Bara plays a psychic vampire, feeding on weakness and destroying with her sex. With dark painted eyes and a sly smirk she crushes rose petals in her hands, and with her wiles, leads her lover to the gutter. She earned the nickname "the vamp" in the American public from that point on, cementing the slang for predatory females. 
Recently, the word appeared in Lady Gaga's song "Teeth" from 2009's The Fame Monster. She sings "Don't need direction...Just got my vamp" as the synth groove vamps beneath: surely a vamp collision if I've ever heard one. Then there was the lesser known glam metal band Bang Tango's 1991 track, "Dressed Up Vamp," which has Joe Leste crooning "dressed up vamp tonight...looking for love and a lonely bite," referencing the bloodsucking side of the spectrum whilst injecting a masculine edge to the vamp sensibility. And I’d be remiss not to mention the ladies in “Addicted to Love” as vamp incarnate.
The vamp look is never overdone. In fact, it is the understated fashion of a vamp that makes her stand out so severely. The red lips, the impeccably tailored outfit, the silk stockings, the spike heels. It’s akin to imagery found in Coco Chanel, Victorian mourning attire, and in the work of recent greats like Helmut Lang, Thierry Mugler, Rick Owens, and Gareth Pugh. From Theda Bara to Bettie Page and Morticia Adams to Angelina Jolie, the vamp look has changed dramatically. Nonetheless, it retains a stark aesthetic, open to change, with a repetition of the risque. 
San Francisco's annual Edwardian Ball is a fete of a different caliber. The beaux-arts architecture of the Regency Ballroom brimming with a sea of aesthetes approximating Edwardian realness set quite the surreal scene. Celebrating its 10th anniversary, the ball that boasts an unbridled love of Edward Gorey featured a headlining performance by Rosin Coven where women became water fountains as the band played, and dancers wound their way across the stage. The croquet court downstairs made an apt setting for the fantastic spread of goods available from vendors from all over, and the absinthe cocktails, particularly the Gashlycrumb Tiny with a splash of cranberry, increased the illusory gloss on the evening.
Michael Gira just announced his decision to revive Swans with a new album and tour in 2010. 
