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Sharp Knives: George Lois & Helmut Krone

Carlos — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 22:26:55 GMT

Welcome to the Sharp Knife* series. This will be a set of randomly recurring posts highlighting lesser-known people with interesting achievements and/or ideas.

Although sometimes, as with this post, there will be no practical benefit beyond sensory stimulation, at other times the featured concepts will provide tangible rewards for anyone smart enough to understand their value.

*For non-native English speakers: the term Sharp Knife refers to the colloquialism Not the Sharpest Knife in the Drawer, a humorous way of saying that someone is dull, slow, or dim. This series will collect an opposite set, i.e. people and concepts indispensable to one's intellectual and stylistic arsenal.

As a follow up to the Mad Men post, I recently came across an article on the Design Observer site on the topic of advertising in the early 60s.

The focus of the article is on legendary designer George Lois, and I'd recommend checking it out if you're interested in getting some context for the TV series (or are into 60s graphic design).

Both the article as well as Lois' own site have links to his more notable campaigns and covers, so you can judge for yourself whether his reputation and inclusion in this series is justified.

The article's writer, Adam Levy, also makes a thought-provoking comparison between the style of magazines from that era versus the celebrity-obsessed rags that plaster modern supermarket checkout stands.

His conclusion that modern magazine design is purely sales-driven is a rather depressing statement, so let's hope that at least some modern designers are being given the artistic freedom that Lois enjoyed while creating his mini-masterpieces.

Either way, if you come to the conclusion that Lois was a genius, you'll need to check out the design pioneer who influenced him the most: Helmut Krone.

Born in Queens of German parents, Krone is often recognized as the father of modern advertising and branding. The impact of his revolutionary thinking looms large both implicitly and explicitly throughout Mad Men series.

He was a master at turning weaknesses into strengths in the context of minimalist layouts. 1959's Think Small for Volkswagen is considered by many to be the greatest advertising campaign of all time. 1963's We Try Harder for Avis was so powerful and timeless that its slogan is still in use today.

So the next time some company shamelessly tries to sell you a product by appealing to your emotions or hormones, just say no. Dismiss those condescending tactics by remembering the sophisticated legacy of Krone and Lois. Those two giants are proof that you don't need to treat people like cavemen in order to sell products.

Seven Backwards Guitars (Part 4)

Carlos — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 18:35:48 GMT

This article continues the series from Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

4. Pepper

My only run-in with the Butthole Surfers was at a concert in Hamburg, in a small club which had been massively oversold. Inevitably, it ended in an all-out riot featuring ambulances and police arrests.

To be frank (and not necessarily because of that experience), I've never been too keen on the Surfers' unique blend of musical styles and their less-than-subtle sense of humour. Nevertheless, 1996's Pepper, their most successful attempt at going mainstream, pushes many of my favorite musical buttons. It's a captivating mixture of trip-hop and psychedelia with a plenty of backwards effects including the chorus.

5. Let Forever Be

In the context of this series, there are certainly plenty of tracks to choose from within the Chemical Brothers' repertoire. I very much admire the way Mr. Tom and Mr. Ed constructed a groundbreaking synthesis of past and present pop idioms.

Their first explicit nod to Tomorrow Never Knows was Setting Sun, a 1996 collaboration with Noel Gallagher. It was close enough to Lennon's masterpiece in both spirit and execution to provoke accusations of illegal sampling from overzealous Apple lawyers.

Along the same stylistic lines, The Private Psychedelic Reel and Surrender could also have been titled Mark 3 or mistaken for remixed Revolver outtakes. But I'm going to instead cast my vote for Let Forever Be, another Gallagher co-creation from 1999. Why? Because:

It's strongly reminiscent of Tomorrow Never Knows, not just in style but also in the feel of its lyrics.
It has a captivating video featuring Michel Gondry's pseudo-kaleidoscopic effects.
It's permanently burned into my brain due to several years of usage as the opening theme to Estudio Fútbol (the only football punditry show I watch regularly, if only for the occasional appearance by the deliciously knowledgeable Luciana Rubinska).

Check out the Chemical Brothers and Noel Gallagher reminiscing about the genesis of Let Forever Be.

Too Much Too Young

Carlos — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 18:40:15 GMT

Here's a quickie review in lieu of a longer essay while I recover from an unexpectedly strong antibiotic. Tip: there are 100 trillion microorganisms living in your body. Don't kill them all because most perform very useful functions.

Mr. Postman dropped off yesterday, among the usual pile of bills and junk, three* rented DVDs from Netflix. Among them was Too Much Too Young, a new DVD compilation about The Specials from Image Entertainment.

The DVD gathers all their promo videos plus some live footage shot during their 1980 US tour.

The Good

It's hard to believe that all sorts of throwaway bands have gotten lavish DVD compilations and retrospectives, whereas the Specials have been completely neglected up to this point. This DVD somewhat rectifies that sad state of affairs, but not in a completely satisfactory way (see below).

The new 1980 live footage is nice to have, but unfortunately there are no complete tracks, with mostly very short segments and constant gaps and jumps. Too bad, because the performances themselves seem killer.

The Bad

The compilation feels very low-budget and opportunistic. The audio was not remastered and seems to be untouched from the original VHS release. There is a very noticeable skip in Enjoy Yourself (29:47, not present in the VHS version), as well as occasional video dropouts.

In fact, since the video is not a significant improvement over the VHS version, all evidence points to a VHS source. The sloppiness extends to the physical disc itself—the title is not part of the printed label and is instead a sticker on the inner rim. It almost feels like a bootleg that found some copyright loophole in the USA in order to get to market as a commercial product.

In terms of added material, the release is very US-centric and aimed at a casual buyer, so 99% of people reading this will find the pseudo-documentary and narration rather superfluous (thankfully, he keeps quiet during the music videos). If you're expecting a thorough and professional compilation like the outstanding Complete Jam, you will be hugely disappointed.

Perhaps a future official release specifically directed at the UK market will address some of these issues.

The Bottom Line

Buyer beware.

If you live in the USA and don't already own any Specials video material, this DVD is a reasonable start in terms of coverage.

If you live outside the USA, or already own a bootleg VHS rip, stay away. If you're a completist and need to satisfy your curiosity, rent it. The origin is dubious and the technical quality is not significantly better than what was previously available. Keep your bootleg and wait for an official UK product.

Either way, although the Specials' promo videos are historically important, my opinion is that the 1979 Colchester concert and their Saturday Night Live appearance do a better job of conveying the talent and raw energy of the band at their peak. Let's hope that some of that live footage gets an official release at some point.

*The other two discs were 1998's Detention/Learning Curve and 2002's Lost in La Mancha. Both films were above average and I can recommend renting them.

Seven Backwards Guitars (Part 3)

Carlos — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 16:28:09 GMT

This article continues the series from Part 1 and Part 2.

3. Waterfall/Don't Stop

Balls, balls, balls. You've got to admit, the Stone Roses had balls!

Your debut album—a situation that can make or break you. What do you do? Play it safe? Of course not! You leave yourself open to a beating from both your fans and the press by doing something unthinkable and unexpected.

Like, for example, taking the backing track for the third song on your album, reversing it, and plonking down the five-minute result as your fourth track!

Art? Garbage? Probably both, in the grand tradition of Revolution 9 and Metal Machine Music. But, due to the level of risk involved, Don't Stop seems more meritorious and meaningful than those two precedents. Granted, the Roses already had a solid name and reputation before the release of their first album, but nevertheless it took courage to stand by an uncommercial artistic experiment without the cushion of an established career.

Either way, the combo was very carefully thought out, given that Don't Stop had some extremely clever additions beyond simply using Waterfall in reverse. Forward drums were added, as well as nonsensical new lyrics which, when played backwards, phonetically sound like Waterfall's lyrics. In effect, the two songs are as close to being mirror images as possible, with the reversed version sounding as normal as is feasible given the constraints.

Tongue-in-cheek or not, Ian Brown has said that, of all the songs the Roses did, Don't Stop is one of his favourites, and one of the few things he was satisfied with on their debut album. And the Chemical Brothers have named Don't Stop as one of their top ten songs of all time.

Unfortunately, the impact of Waterfall/Don't Stop as an artistic statement was somewhat diminished by repeating the same trick with Guernica (Made of Stone in reverse, but with forward lyrics) and Simone (Where Angels Play reversed). Less is more—except, perhaps, when a full five years elapse between your first and second albums!

Visions of Space

Carlos — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 23:03:39 GMT

Visions of Space is documentary about the role of architecture in politics, modern cities, and religion, as seen through the works of three specific architects. It's hosted by Australian art critic Robert Hughes, and was originally shown on BBC4 in 2003.

Why write a about something that's five years old? For a full line of reasoning, read the companion piece Why Review Old Items?. But briefly, I'm writing this article because I just got done watching this series for the very first time, and there are almost no reviews of it anywhere on the Internet.

The Good

As Hughes implies in the first episode, architecture is the only art form that physically affects us on a daily basis. And in a world where very few documentaries about architecture exist, this is a fantastic series on a number of levels. I'm very glad I spent the time to track it down and watch it.

In terms of the basics, the technical execution is top-notch. The series comes in a great widescreen presentation, with rich colors and soaring cinematography. Computer effects and recreations are used only when necessary, and are very tastefully integrated. It all looks very professional and expensive, but obviously content is what makes or kills a series, and in that regard Hughes chose the subject matter for the three episodes quite well.

The Albert Speer episode (Size Matters) deals with Hitler's architect, and it makes a good companion piece to the 1989 documentary The Architecture of Doom. It benefits from audio snippets from a 1979 interview with Speer, and covers the often overlooked subject of urban planning and architecture under Hitler's regime.

Speer's aborted designs bring a fascinating insight into the manipulation of style, space, and size to achieve political and ideological goals. After watching this episode, the intelligent viewer will undoubtedly become more aware of instances in daily life where grandiosity (physical or otherwise) is used as a subconscious means of fostering collectivism and avoiding criticism. Indeed, Speer's attempts to cover up a big lie with big buildings is no different from modern authoritarians who, not having Hitler's budget or supply of slave labor, instead push their agenda via big titles and big numbers.

The Mies van der Rohe episode (Less is More) is an exploration of International Style through the career of one of its most famous founders. There are great on-location interviews at the Farnsworth House, Seagram Building, and Barcelona Pavilion. The various walkthroughs deliver a sense of three-dimensionality, detail, and space that's miles better than the zillion static photographs that we're used to seeing of these landmarks.

Mies' focus on attention to detail, clean lines, simplicity, and so on are likely to resonate with visitors to this site, but the drawbacks of the modernist philosophy are also covered, including the prioritization of style over comfort and van der Rohe's somewhat hypocritical preference for living in a traditional environment.

The Antoni Gaudí episode (God's Architect) gives us a guided tour through the legacy, methods, and inspirations of the Catalan visionary. Gaudí's biomorphic forms and religious fervor make for a thought-provoking counterpoint to the more clinical German aesthetics of the other two episodes.

Unlike most commercial guided tours of Barcelona, this one does not fixate on Gaudí's best-known unfinished creation. Instead, it's very well balanced, giving roughly equal time to each of his major works. And it's in the less touristy places that the viewer can find Gaudí's most breathtaking moments, with certain details and styles being absolutely magical (as well as fifty years ahead of their time).

God's Architect also features many interviews with both local experts as well as people whose life and outlook were significantly affected by living in Gaudí's creations. The extensive testimony adds a human touch, but tends to feel a bit slow and repetitive. Overall, though, the episode easily surpasses any static guidebook in terms of visually explaining why Gaudí was such a genius.

The Bad

Having an imposing personality such as Hughes at the center of the series is a double-edged sword. Some might might prefer a more anonymous and objective presentation. Others might be put off by some of his more controversial opinions. Not me!

I happen to share most of his viewpoints, and was relieved to hear him, for instance, dismiss the façades at La Sagrada Familia and instead focus on Gaudí's more under-appreciated creations such as the Colonia Güell Crypt and Casa Milá.

I also think that for a potentially dry and static topic such as architecture, it helps tremendously to have a passionate and opinionated person such as Hughes as your travelling companion and tour guide.

Don't get me wrong, I was dumbfounded to hear him argue that the Seagram Building wasn't built using similar principles as van der Rohe's other works. And the completely superfluous segment in Montserrat where he goes through the religious offerings had me looking at my clock with a mixture of boredom and embarrassment. But these were tiny flaws, and easily ignored in the context of three hours of great material.

The Bottom Line

Visions of Space is somewhat complicated to get a hold of. It has never been released commercially, so you'll have to look for it on file-sharing networks. Is it worth your time and effort to obtain and watch?

The answer is: it depends. If you're interested in architecture, you'll find the entire series quite captivating and a worthy addition to your video collection. Needless to say, this is the category I fall into, and I've already burned myself a nice DVD with the three episodes.

If, on the other hand, you're only interested in one of the featured architects, or particular topics such as modernism, WW2, or sights to see in NYC/Barcelona/Chicago, you should probably only download the specific episode that covers your topic and leave the others as optional.

Additional Resources

Visions of Space: official page for the series on the BBC site.
Of Gods and Monsters: article by Robert Hughes about Albert Speer.

Seven Backwards Guitars (Part 2)

Carlos — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 19:58:20 GMT

This article continues the series started in Part 1.

2. That's Entertainment

When asked to quickly name a song with psychedelic influences from The Jam's catalog, 99.9% of respondents would probably blurt out Dreams of Children. And when asked for songs specifically influenced by Revolver, the first thing that comes to mind is probably Start! (cover versions of And Your Bird Can Sing and Rain notwithstanding).

But since I've always found Dreams of Children to be one of The Jam's less inspirational efforts, and since Start! borrows from a Harrison song that has many merits but lacks backwards bits, I'm instead going to meet both requirements by choosing the overlooked That's Entertainment. Like Tomorrow Never Knows, it's a song that evolved from rough diamond to perfectly polished gem partially via the subtle use of backwards sound effects.

Weller had been dabbling with backwards overdubs since at least as far back as All Mod Cons, mostly via decorative layering inside various intros and outros. But in That's Entertainment, the backwards guitars are placed right in the middle of the song and actually serve a critical function. A monotonic song with no middle eight might make for a boring experience, even if accompanied by brilliant lyrics. The Beatles solved that problem in Tomorrow Never Knows by means of tape loops, and in 1980 their solution was reused by Weller and producer Vic Coppersmith-Heaven under similar circumstances.

The result is that That's Entertainment neatly defuses any possibility of listener fatigue via the backwards guitar that kicks in around the two-minute mark. Its unexpected arrival not only tells the subconscious brain to keep alert, but it also sends a wink to in-the-know listeners who might share Weller's Revolver infatuation during his Sound Affects phase.

As with Tomorrow Never Knows, we've got a bunch of early takes and demos of That's Entertainment floating around (as well as many live renditions). In spite of their rough charm and historical value, those alternate versions do seem raw and monotonous when compared to the multilevel impact of the official release and its wonderful retrolooking production.

Amazing Journey: The Story of the Who

Carlos — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 00:57:05 GMT

Amazing Journey is a documentary film about The Who. It had a limited theatrical run in 2007 and was released as a 2-disc DVD in November. The official site can be found here.

Musically speaking, The Who is a strange beast that straddles both the best and worst of the 60s and the 70s. Personally, I'm only really interested in their pop and r&b material, more or less up to Tommy. Their operatic and stadium-rock phases I simply can't get into (musically or visually).

Having said that, during the 70s Townshend did accomplish something I have great admiration for on a number of levels: the film (not the album) Quadrophenia. So keep in mind that this review focuses on the personally interesting bits and more or less ignores everything else.

The Good

Any new documentary about The Who has to inevitably be compared to the seminal The Kids are Alright and other opportunistic lower-budget efforts such as Under Review 1964-1968. In that regard, I find Amazing Journey to be an improvement over its predecessors in a number of ways.

First off, Amazing Journey is officially sanctioned, which means that it features top-notch source material and proper band member interviews as opposed to random pundits as in Under Review. Furthermore, unlike Kids, it:

covers a longer timespan to the present day
has more balance in terms of interviews vs. music
features additional relevant personalities (Stamp, Barnes, Talmy, families, etc)
is faster-paced with shorter segments

Although it's a plus that Kids has long and unedited segments when covering the early Who, that tactic becomes terribly boring during later bits such as Woodstock and Who's Next. Amazing Journey, on the other hand, follows a standard documentary format with very tight editing, and therefore makes it much easier to stick through passages that aren't as interesting.

Given the age of some of the material, the video and audio quality is excellent. There is a lot of fantastic early footage, especially on the second disc, that is previously unreleased or only available in limited crappy quality. In fact, if (like me) you're already too familiar with the story of the band from the other documentaries and various books such as the ones by Richard Barnes and Dave Marsh, you might find some of the bonus features more valuable than the main film itself. The full unedited 1964 Railway Hotel performance and Who Art You? (a 10-minute segment covering the Who's art and mod influences) are especially captivating.

The Bad

It's a shame that the marketing wizards behind the film felt that the story, characters, and music weren't powerful enough to stand on their own. Appearances and endorsements by contemporary artists like Eddie Vedder, Noel Gallagher, and The Edge are prevalent throughout. Those snippets aren't without some value, but they would have been better off as a separate "legacy and influence" feature in the bonus materials.

The film's modern pacing and short segments (its main strengths versus Kids) are also its main weakness. There were several times where I wished that the director would have stayed for a while longer with some particular event or vintage clip. In all fairness, however, the bonus disc plus the existence of Kids should address the needs of viewers wanting more material.

Last but not least, from an emotional standpoint, it's a bit of a downer to watch the last half hour meander into tragic deaths, loss of relevance, and middle-aged geezers singing that they hope to die before they get old. Stick to watching Kids if you prefer a story that ends on a high note with the protagonists all living happily and still in their prime.

The Bottom Line

If you're interested in the early part of The Who's history, these two DVDs do a good job of complementing and expanding prior documentaries. At a minimum, they're worth a rental, but most likely you'll find that they deserve a place right next to The Kids are Alright as a permanent addition to your collection.

Seven Bodysnatching Pods (Part 3)

Carlos — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 14:04:52 GMT

This article continues the series from Part 1 and Part 2.

6. Cabriolet Bed

There's no question that Italian designer Joe Colombo was one of the greatest visionaries of his generation. Many of his works will be lavishly praised on this site in future posts. But, like anyone else, he had some dodgy moments, and his Cabriolet Bed was an unfortunate example of ivory-tower syndrome at its worst. At first sight, it looks wonderfully futuristic, with its unique cover and built-in modern conveniences. But, once you get past the initial sense of awe, it becomes clear that it was a doomed and contradictory creation, totally lacking in real-world usability.

More precisely: a bed has three typical uses. None of those activities improves in a tightly enclosed environment with decreasing oxygen and accumulating carbon dioxide. If on top of that you encourage smoking via a built-in ashtray and cigarette lighter, the occupant's most important choice is whether he prefers death by asphyxiation or cremation. Colombo obviously realized some of these problems after deploying the bed in his own apartment, and added a fan and side ventilation holes not present in his original sketch (see below). But the added holes, of course, massively reduce the effectiveness of the cover in terms of providing a bidirectional barrier to sensory information.

Realistically, floorplans broken up into rooms by means of solid walls and doors are much more effective in terms of delivering privacy than Colombo's open layout, where individual components have to provide their own enclosures. Even worse, in terms of commercial viability and backward compatibility, you can't mix and match the two philosophies: a Cabriolet Bed, when placed a conventional bedroom with four solid walls tightly surrounding it, immediately becomes both redundant and paranoid.

And yet, despite the Cabriolet Bed's practical shortcomings, the key concept behind its design wasn't flawed so much as misdirected. As we'll see below, there does exist a context in which Colombo's concept of an adjustable built-in furniture cover makes complete practical sense.

7. Sunball

Sunball was designed by Günter Ferdinand Ris and Herbert Selldorf for the Rosenthal company in West Germany. Very few were made from 1969 to 1971 (probably less than 50), and that scarcity makes the current market value of a mint original upwards of u$30K.

The chair has a number of different parts, including: lacquered fiberglass-reinforced polyester as the exterior shell, foam and fabric for the upholstery, plastic for the various trays, and aluminum for the spring hinge elements.

Like the Cabriolet Bed, Sunball can also be closed completely. When viewed in that position, it clearly betrays an astronaut (or medieval?) helmet inspiration. Also, like Colombo's bed, and unlike most lounge chairs from the same period, it has room for two people, which as you might recall from the previous article in this series, I consider a very desirable characterstic.

But the truly decisive difference that avoids the functional dead-end of Colombo's Cabriolet Bed is that Sunball was always intended for outdoor use. In that context, a protective and adjustable shading cover makes perfect sense. In fact, it makes so much sense that outdoor furniture designers have recently rediscovered the idea, and you can see it in action at posh beach resorts and poolside nightclubs worldwide. Witness, for example, the AKG Cabana Chair below. Look familiar?

Thinking through various usage scenarios, Sunball also contains a built-in lamp, loudspeakers, and interior and exterior drink-holding trays. So although it could be considered relatively ugly versus the visual elegance and simplicity of, say, Aarnio's designs, it's probably the most usable and versatile of all the pods from the 60s and 70s.

And so this topic comes to an end. But, in the tradition of cinematic bodysnatching, a sequel is inevitable and already in the works. Sunball's focus on usability is the perfect branching-off point onto a side road that will be explored sometime in 2008.

Seven Backwards Guitars (Part 1)

Carlos — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 18:28:08 GMT

1. Tomorrow Never Knows

Sometimes, within five seconds of listening to a new song, you know exactly who the artist has been listening to (or, less kindly, who he's trying to imitate). Along those lines, it's especially easy to tell when someone's been looking towards 1966 for inspiration, because nothing says 1966 like a backwards guitar. More precisely: nothing says 1966, Beatles, and Revolver like a backwards guitar. Sure, other contemporary acts (Stones, Kinks, Hendrix, Barrett to name a few) dabbled in backwards experiments here and there, but none of those efforts were as innovative, in-your-face, or memorable as what the Beatles accomplished.

I view the 65-67 period from Rubber Soul to Strawberry Fields as the cream of the Beatles' and Lennon's songwriting (i.e. excluding the decent but overrated Pepper). Inside that timeline filled with great peaks, the equivalent of Everest is a song preliminarily titled Mark I, eventually released under the meaningless Ringo-ism Tomorrow Never Knows. It's quite simply the most innovative and revolutionary song ever created, the musical equivalent of Picasso's Demoiselles d'Avignon, precisely marking the moment at which stylistic constraints disappeared and abstraction broke through with full force into mainstream pop music.

Recorded on April 6 and 7 of 1966, Tomorrow Never Knows was such a gigantic leap forward in terms of both structure and lyrics that it could be mistaken for something delivered by aliens or time travellers from the future. It sticks out like a sore thumb, even in the context of an already groundbreaking album, making it very hard to believe that the Beatles and Martin could produce a track so avant-garde only three years after the embarrassing (in retrospect) juvenile simplicity of I Want to Hold Your Hand.

Fearfully, it was relegated to the end of Revolver, making sure that listeners would get through the rest of the album before having to cope with the shock of such a different experience.

Time has caught up with the song, and it no longer sounds as revolutionary as it might have done in 1966. But it's still interesting to understand its evolution, and why McCartney's backwards loops play a such a key role in the successful delivery of the track.

Indeed, the un-looped first take as documented in the Anthology series sounds innovative enough, but it's also repetitive, slow, and ultimately boring. The new drumming and random backwards elements added in Take 3 transform the song completely, making the listener's ears perk up while his brain furiously tries to make sense of what the hell is coming out of his speakers. Seagulls? Out-of-tune instruments? No, not at all, just backwards loops featuring distorted guitars, speeded up guitars, mellotrons, and even a wine glass.

A sonically delicious texture that's second to none, and not just popular in discotheques (shame on you, Ray!).

Additional Resources

Tomorrow Never Knows (flash video by Melon)
Notes on "Tomorrow Never Knows" by Alan W. Pollack
Tomorrow Never Knows on Wikipedia

Aston Martin DBS in LA on Nov 13th

Carlos — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 14:51:14 GMT

Once in a while, I get snail mail from entities in California which still have my contact information. The worst is undoubtedly California's tax octopus, which greedily tries to keep its tentacles around individuals long after they've ceased to live there. But thankfully, more pleasant items do make their way across the country to my mailbox, and today I found a card from Los Angeles inviting me to preview the Aston Martin DBS at the local dealership. The DBS is best known for its faked appearance in the film Casino Royale, but the genuine article will be launched later this year and will be featured in the forthcoming Bond 22.

Aside from the confusingly ambiguous DBS name (which duplicates that of a late 60s model), I have mixed feelings about the visuals of this new Aston Martin. It seems to continue a tradition of incremental changes on top of Ian Callum's brilliant 1993 DB7 design, which guarantees a pleasant form but isn't exactly a risky or groundbreaking approach. Still, it's a supercar, and therefore much better looking and more exciting than most other vehicles on the road.

Since I'm 3000 miles away and can't go, via this post I'd like to transfer my invitation to any well-dressed readers in SoCal with good taste in cars. If you're not doing anything on November 13th at 6pm, it might not be a bad plan to pop over to the dealership to check out the DBS before it gets unveiled to the general public a few days later at the LA Auto Show. Follow the RSVP instructions below to confirm that they aren't overbooked and will let you into the event (if the text is illegible, click the image to enlarge).