The layered jazzy tropical harmonies that begin “Dream Catcher” move into a nearly a capella mid-section “Scrambled Inside” would suit Amy Winehouse or Etta James, and, like many Pinc Louds songs, seamlessly incorporates different tempos and rhythms with a result that’s both modern and old-fashioned. Several of Pinc Loud’s songs have logged well over a million streams each on Spotify. Pinc Louds live at the Cube: Energy and inclusion. As for the musical goal: “I wanted to make a loud punk band, but also soft and pink, like me.” “But I was, ‘I want to have a band called Pink Clouds because everybody likes Pink Clouds so everybody is going to like us!’ I wrote it down one time, and my neighbor made a fake album cover for me.” Thrilled, Claudi, a language lover, changed the letters to create the play on words.
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“I always say Pinc Louds is an imaginary band, because when you’re a kid, it’s like, ‘I want to have a band.’ And you don’t even know how to play anything!” she says. Pinc Louds has been in Claudi’s heart and mind for more than two decades. As the band In Circles begins their set, Pinc Clouds bass player and new dad Marc Mosteirin, clad in shorts and a black T-shirt, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer, joins Claudi to share in the stories. The singer’s voice, too, is unforgettable, a pleasing, cartoony, almost-falsetto, which she willingly confesses is not natural. In a black bob-n-bangs wig with a topknot and a festive pink floral vintage dress, Claudi-often pulling her musical life (guitar, merch, CDs) in a red wagon-is a welcome, omnipresent, and hard-to-miss downtown sight. “You give hope.” Claudi, who uses all pronouns, gives him a big, genuine, lipsticked smile. The man introduces himself as Mark, reminding Claudi (pronounced “Cloud-ee”) that he danced at a previous gig.
set time-are eager to dance to a trio that defies musical categorization but always brings the energy, inclusion, and joy.įrom an adjacent park bench, a man ambles over and stands in front of Pinc Louds’ lead singer, Claudi. It’s the real humans of NYC, and Pinc Louds fans-of which there will soon be hundreds, a dozen people deep, by the band’s 4:30 p.m.
It’s a happy motley crew that’s milling around a corner of Tompkins Square Park on a recent steamy Sunday afternoon. Too-cool teens surreptitiously passing a bottle of booze around. Moms sitting on the ground quaffing wine. A 20-something with the word “Lucifer” prominently tattooed across his face. “The Voice may be bigger than print and ink or any owner, editor, medium, or era, but this paper belonged to New York, and the people who have worked for it have served both the Voice and the city in exemplary fashion.A little kid hugging a green plush dinosaur. Editor Stephen Mooallem said the roughly 500,000 pages of Voice archives would remain for the time-being “a state-of-the-art analog experience. What happens next for the Village Voice could represent a bellwether for the rest of the publishing industry looking toward an all-digital future. “So enough with the eulogies for Rolling Stone and the Village Voice, two relics demolished not by the internet but their own narcissistic, congenital nostalgia,” Callahan crowed. While many mourn the Voice’s physical passing, others have been less charitable.Ĭontrarian New York Post columnist Maureen Callahan wrote that the changes at the Voice and the sale of Rolling Stone meant post-war baby boomers were finally releasing their “chokehold on American culture”. The images include the infamous denizens of the downtown realm – William Burroughs (with sword), the Beastie Boys, Madonna, Jack Kerouac – while cartoonist Steve Brodner reminisced: “This is journalism – authentic, fearless, two-fisted, pure.” In the final edition, a photo section celebrated the photographers and writers who “looked out at the rest of the world from south of 14th Street”. In severing the Voice from its physical existence, owner and publisher Peter Barbey said the 62-year old print publication had been “a public forum for ideas and a cultural touchstone for the progressive thought and envelope-pushing aesthetics that defined New York”. Michael Musto, the longtime nightlife columnist, marked the occasion with a return of his “La Dulce Musto” column.īy mid-morning on Thursday, many of the publication’s distinctive red distribution boxes were empty, copies collected up by souvenir hunters. The 176-page issue features a 50-page portfolio of journalistic luminaries who helped define the publication, including Voice co-founder Ed Fancher, theater critic Michael Feingold and film critics J Hoberman and Amy Taubin. Photographed in a salute, the image of Dylan was taken in January 1965, near the old offices of the Voice.
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