Hey yall, we’re a subset of peoples now!
According to Gothamist: “A new East Village eatery opening tonight wants to introduce the unique flavors of Acadian culture, a subset of Louisiana peoples with roots in French Canada.”
Awful lot of words to avoid saying, you know, Cajun. This is what happens when restaurant marketing people attack. I guess they have to change it up.
After all, pretty much every other attempt at Cajun in New York has failed — because they don’t do it right. And if you don’t call it Cajun, you might not get cranky-ass Cajuns showing up in your restaurant saying, “WTF IS THIS? RAW DEER MEAT? KEYAWWWWWW! MAWMAW NEVER MADE DAT, NO!”
Granted, this food is probably all going to be delicious. And you shouldn’t be a slave to the past if you’re trying to do something new.
So why not just serve it rather than market it? Oh, that’s right. It’s all about storytelling these days. And about faux authenticity. Even if the story is badly told. You know, like when you tell about the unique flavors of Acadian culture using Swiss Chard. But at least the restaurant has a picture of an oysterman!
And nice song selection Gothamist. Hard to tell if you don’t know the difference between Acadiana and Acadia, or are simply ignorant of the literally thousands of Cajun songs out there — some of them even Grammy winning. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s both.
Hell, you could have at least used “I’m a King Bee” by Slim Harpo. He might not belong to the “subset of peoples,” but he was born and raised among them. (Oh, and the song is the same name as the restaurant.)
Riffraf asked me to write a little something for their Writers and Music series, in which writers discuss the music included in their work or the music that influenced their work.
You’ve got a picture in your mind, I’m sure. The writer enters his special writing place and, before settling in front of the computer or typewriter, he fires up the iPod or turntable. Music fills the room—or his ears. A scratchy jazz record. Sweeping classical. Maybe some down-with-the-system rock or fuck-the-police rap. He sits down, closes his eyes for a minute, takes a couple of deep breaths. Then he starts writing.
Three songs later, he sends his manuscript to a publisher, is offered a six-figure contract, multiple subsidiary rights and a seven-figure movie option. He—or she (Hi, Jennifer Weiner!)—goes back to the writing corner, picks another album, rinse, lather, repeat. Life is good!
For me, this is largely a fantasy. And I’m not only talking about the huge book deals or the quaint little writing office.
Just had to share this beyond Facebook. “The Star Wars That I Used to Know.”
Borderline genius, right there. I’m a big fan of the original song, but haven’t watched any of the covers, spoof videos and what have you supposedly making the rounds. I did, however, seek out Kimbra, the woman who accompanies Gotye (or as I often refer to him accidentally, Goatse, which isn’t nice, but it’s purely accidental, I promise).
Anyway, Kimbra seems cool. She’s got a weird vibe, but she’s still poppy enough to enjoy as music rather than homework, say, like Fiona Apple.
By the way, still raising money for TNT. Help a brother out! Fight cancer. Save lives.