The Thousands

We had some tough calls to make this week but just couldn’t ween anything out. Thus we bring you an even pair of LOOKS and WATCHES. Most of our sections had aces though. Well played Martyr Privates 7", Teen Angels, Erin Lightfoot and Who Killed Bambi.

This week's covershot courtesy of Joshua Byrd. Be a lovable dude like Josh and send us your covershots. We'll love you long time.

It's easy to underestimate the reality of gangsta culture, with prep school girls flashing gang symbols in Facebook photos and Blood and Crip flannelette print shoes for sale at suburban shopping malls.

Since 1979, Teen Angels has been a testament to the fact that some very real people live lives that are very different from ours. Cover-to-cover, each issue reprints handmade art from Chicano contributors. Awash with guns, lowriders, hot babes and gang paraphernalia, you can argue that it glamorises some unhealthy practices, but like N.W.A., this is also simply a case of people reporting on the world they already live in.

What's rad is Teen Angels provides a positive creative outlet; the art enclosed is obviously pored over, finely detailed with loving care. What's sad is that a lot of these drawings are from inmates, with their addresses enclosed. A lot of these images are the idealised daydreams of incarcerated individuals.

It's not all heartbreak, however; there's some humor herein (this issue's Christmas centerfold is particularly adorable). Stockists are sporadic online via eBay but have a hunt around; every issue of Teen Angels is an interesting keepsake and a glimpse into a real street subculture. And every page is a single person's chance to shine.

Martyr Privates haven’t come here to reinvent rock’n’roll. They’ve come to show us why we fell in love with it in the first place. Their first release takes every 1988 guitar-pop secret (who cares what happened after then anyway?) and compresses them into two could-be-classic hits.

If you're a fan of Spacemen 3 and even some early Brian Jonestown Massacre, you're going to dig the two tracks 'Bless', and 'Native Son'. Think no-fuss guitar chords, loads of repetition and even more reverb. Songs that work first listen make this pretty much a perfect player for that moment at a party when everyone’s too drunk to keep sitting down, but still acting too coy to start dancing. Sounds like what 1988 was probably like on the whole.

The denim days aren't Martyr Privates' only reference points though. Lead man Cam was once a member of Brisbane alt-rock elite I Heart Hiroshima and Slug Guts, but expect more of a stomp than a brood here.

The front man doesn't get all the limelight. It’s drummer Sam’s no-nonsense hitting and elegant fills that really grab your attention with Martyr Privates. Then of-course there's the name. Will a band with a better one please stand up?

Purists beware, you're probably not going to like this. Collaboration is a sticky business, but when it comes to like-minded folk, (or even better - non-like-minded folk) the interesting ideas starts flowing. Seven With Another are hosting the fourth incarnation of such collaborations, with a swag of film makers, costume designers, typographers, photographers, choreographers and, hell, even traditional artists who work in the medium of painting.

Ryan Renshaw (who is not only a gallerist, but film maker) and photographer Martin Smith have been paired together, allegedly re-mixing a late 90's video of Holly Valance swimming in the Neighbours pool. Painter Benjamin Reeve and physical computerist Philip Unwin have made some sort of crazy visual interface. Michael Candy (kineticist) and Jason Grant (graphic designer) have collaborated on a park bench in a brash act of urban intervention. Other artists include Dominique Falla (typographer) and Ryan Walsh (composer), motion designer Timothy Lovett and choreographer Clare Dyson. This isn't art school where every artist thinks their medium is superior, but a good chance for creatives to see what they can do when they put their minds together.

It reads like a Jeopardy challenge only one mum in Brisbane is likely to ping in for. Q: “A printmaker combining a love of passionfruit, avocados, 1950s soap packaging and toasters…” A: “Who is Erin Lightfoot? (also, honey, CALL ME.)” Bonus points for picking her Klee and Kandinsky influences, the nods to Tahitian textiles and the original power-pellet muncher, Pac-Man.

A love of tangible objects drove Erin from her background in web and graphic design into the arms of jewellery, textiles, and print – and until it’s possible to knead the internet like a stressball, we’re totally onboard. Her delicate, sorbet-hued porcelain bangles, hoop earrings and brooches evince a milk bar charm; sweet, unique, probably bad for your teeth. Each involves hours of painstaking hand labour from the triple firing, application of the print (again, by hand!), and finally sanding, glazing and finishing. Phew!

Luckily it’s much easier to just buy one, and your hand will thank you, and then thank you again.

The palimpsestic title is a clue: Martha’s (Elizabeth Olsen) innermost identity has been blurred and desecrated by an abusive cult whose leader, Patrick (John Hawkes), renames her ‘Marcy May’, and forces all female members to answer the phone as ‘Marlene’. Seeking shelter with her estranged sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and Lucy’s husband Ted (Hugh Dancy), she doesn’t trust her memories yet is petrified Patrick is coming to reclaim her.

Writer-director Sean Durkin’s debut feature is subtly, almost perfectly calibrated between idyllic and terrifying, all the way to its chillingly ambiguous ending. Durkin expertly allows episodic, impressionistic scenes to unfurl and overlap, revealing how seemingly benign everyday objects and gestures have become horrible to Martha, and how her search for meaning has left her irreparably damaged.

As Martha’s behaviour escalates from merely eccentric to hysterical, Lucy and Ted struggle to help; Olsen brilliantly portrays both the opaque object of their frustration and the subject of crippling confusion and panic. Hawkes – who played Teardrop in Winter’s Bone – powerfully conjures menace from hippie-like calm. By the time he’s spouting such truly insane aphorisms as “Death is pure love”, Martha’s in way too deep to ever really be herself again.

"Conflict is the essence of drama," the old screenwriter's saw goes. Which may be true, but, at least as far as contemporary film goes, it means the characters are unhappy all the goddamn time. Michel Hazanavicius's The Artist has its share of drama, conflict and unhappiness but the striking thing about this film is not that it's (mostly) silent or that it's black and white in a historically accurate way. It's that people smile throughout.

Michel Hazanavicius's now ten-times-Oscar-nominated film is the story of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), a silent movie star who rejects the incipient era of sound film. We watch his tragic, hubristic fall as we simultaneously witness the rise of talkie starlet Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo). Dujardin looks the Platonic ideal of a dashing 1920s movie star. Equal parts Clark Gable and Gene Kelly (who wasn't in silent pictures, but the resemblance is too strong not to note).

People are going to talk about The Artist being an homage to a forgotten era; the way the performances skilfully walk the line between the naturalism that is demanded from contemporary film and the exaggeration that characterised silent ones. The score, the costumes, the whatever. What, to me at least, makes The Artist most unique is that it's an unapologetically joyful film. Which is a rare thing, particularly now. This exuberance seems to demand the technical affect and not the other way around. Plus, the dog is fucking adorable.

'Who Killed Bambi' isn't a question, it's an online clothing store. One with a penchant for fast rhythms, soft lenses and customised vintage pieces.

Sourcing from around the state, WKB keeps you on your fingertips with weekly stock and monthly collections with iconic names like The White Album and OK Computer. For 2012's early months, 'Dirty January' is about waisted good girl frocks, Peter Pan collars and worn in prints. There's even a rainy weather guide to help you stay dry and pretty.

Sure online vintage stores aren't new around these parts, but we think WKB makes the cut. Every item comes with complete descriptions and design specs, as if owners Ally and Jonathan had tracked down the original sales catalogue themselves. That rules, because what's worse than finding something special online only to find those vegetable ivory-looking buttons are really made of recycled bottle caps? First world problems!

Cabiria Oyster Bar is the kind of place you'd want to take a romantic holiday. By holiday, we mean that you're going to spend a good couple of hours on sharing small meals between friends. Their French inspired menu features meat heavy dishes, so it's not really suitable for vegetarians, especially the rennet-free kind. Their cheese platters do however include a good range of French, Italian and Australian cheeses, and their cheddar and red onion toasties are for those who like to dabble with their jaffles.

The highlights include Rabbit Pie, Escargot and White Bean Soup. The clincher (and the general premise of their restaurant) is the oysters. Apart from being the perfect dish to seduce your date (or friends) with, Cabiria shuck their oysters fresh, and they're as tender and tasty as they come. The chef keeps it fresh with a fish du jour and rotating highlights daily.

Smaller dishes include Pork Terrine, Duck Rilletes, Coq Au Vin, Salmon Tartare, meats from the Charcuterie, and sharable gourmet sandwiches. Also featuring a great drink selection of local and imported wines, ciders, beers and spirits, Cabiria is set up for those who are hopeless romantics, whether it comes to food or other affairs. Oh and I'm not going to finish this review without mentioning their napkins, which are almost cotton thick and massive - they'll turn you into Larry. Now go get some of those Oysters shucked.

When I walk down the street I always hear the words: "Matt how do I become an internet sensation like you? How does my life become a MEME?". As a kind man I always take the time to respond to the voices in my head and perhaps you, dear reader, would also like to listen in.

A lot of memes are random events that become popular of their own awesome accord, but maybe you don't wanna sit around your whole life waiting to become heaps famous. So here is what you can do: Find a picture or video of a famous person or animal and put a caption or funny voice over it! It's as simple as that.

You can use this site or if you're heaps smart then do it all on some fancy thing like Photoshop. Impact font is the best as it has the most IMPACT. "But I'm not as naturally funny as you, Matt" you say, well that's OK because memes are incredibly repetitive and you can also just put a slight change on what is already there.

Soon you'll be the king of your Facebook friends and people will laugh at you every time you squint. So get out there and make some ROFLs and LOLs and stop saying acronyms out loud.

That optical illusion poster you bought after watching Dazed and Confused should always have pride of place on the wall. Always! But now Jugglers have 50 plus five reasons why a new addition is necessary. With proceeds supporting the Emerging Artist Development Program, their $50 note art sale featuring 55 of the best emerging artists around is that chance you've been looking for.

Oliver Tank! Bet you've heard his name lots around town of late, often in conjunction with some James Blake guy. It doesn't matter if you've never heard of these names, if you like your music electronic (not the shirtless Parklife kind), this gig also featuring Oh Ye Denver Birds and Anonymeye is for you. Free tickets anyone?

How dare these guys? Come to our turf and call themselves 'tropical punk'! We all know Canberra ain't humid. It must just mean The Fighting League's guitar-driven tunes are so good they're able to turn d-floors into filthy sweat pools no matter where they play. We're obviously in for a good show then.

Ever wondered what a mechanical wave might look like attached to a wall? Rebecca Baumann did so much she made one. Now she's bringing Automated Monochrome to town and will be turning IMA's satellite gallery at Ksubi's walls into flowing fields of automated colour. The opening will be preceded by an artist talk, with some special cupcakes and drinks after. We hope the cupcakes are multichromatic.

Kitchen's Floor are playing their first full-band show in Brisbane since too long ago, and possibly their last for a while, before they take off to Camp A Low Hum in NZ. I bet they're looking forward to that. They'll be belting out their punk rock with Loose Grip, who'll be launching their new 'Cereal' 7", along with Greg Boring and Dollface. Forget your $2 Tuesday and head to Black Bear for this not-so-intimate affair.

An astral plane exists, to some people, between Heaven and Earth. It is occupied by angels and dead people and Jonathan Richman. The Astral Plane, however, exists in Australia and is populated by two dudes, Daniel Oliver and Damien Horan (of The Villainares), and their most awesome line of printed tees, button ups, denim and swim shorts.

The Astral Plane radiates slow summers and vagabond spirit. They've got a knack for rendering vintage ideas via laid-back street wear and are especially good at hallucinated prints and patterns.

Their latest collection is impressive. Psychedelic palms, wild stallions, water crafts, and the hottest city in the world NYC make printed appearances on tees. Have a look for yourself at these stockists. We particularly like the 'Islands' swim shorts, which are patchworked with all of your favourite parts of summer - palm trees, flowers and Aztec patterns - and have a bonus pocket which is 'handy if you're craving a coconut water?'

We liked them so much that we got you some. To enter, just answer the following question.