Let's Play "Pretend"
Thoughts on Fran Lebowitz's Netflix series, plus something to read, watch, and listen to.
I first became aware of Fran Lebowitz in the most unintellectual of places: party photos. As a sidekick to former Vanity Fair editor in chief Graydon Carter, she made frequent appearances in the magazine’s “Fairground” section, of which I was a devoted follower. There she was at an Oscars soirée, there she was at the Waverly Inn. As an aspiring media elite, my curiosity was piqued enough to discover that Lebowitz had written books but not enough to actually read them.
It really wasn’t until I began watching Pretend It’s A City on Netflix that I became more closely acquainted with the renowned Lebowitz wit. And like so many others (as evidenced by the show’s popularity), I was enamored with her distinctive point of view, her unencumbered delivery, and her supreme confidence in every utterance. To say nothing of the sheer jealousy of how she manages to pull off a charmed albeit cranky existence in New York City—fancy friends! fancy invites! fancy apartment!— despite minimal tangible creative output over the past few decades.
But a funny thing happened midway through the series. After the third or fourth episode, I remember asking my wife, “If you were at a dinner party with her, do you think there would be a two-way conversation or does she just hold court?”
“The latter,” she replied.
That’s where my position as a Fran stan started to change. I enjoy a Lebowitz hot take immensely. Her line about how everyone says they can’t afford to live in New York yet somehow eight million people manage to pull it off is the one I repeat the most. They are certainly smarter and more well-informed than your average Twitter user/sports network pundit.
Yet after hearing so many of them rapid fire on Pretend It’s A City, there were more than a few where I started thinking, “Well, wait a second. That doesn’t really hold up.” Of course, not being as quick witted as Lebowitz, by the time I’d formed a semi-coherent counterpoint, she had invariably moved onto another topic.
Perhaps I should simply enjoy Lebowitz’s court holding in the way that so many others on the series—Martin Scorcese, Alec Baldwin, Olivia Wilde, and Spike Lee—do. The only one who comes even remotely close to challenging Lebowitz’s views is Lee, who refuses to go along with her blanket condemnation of sports.
But if I had a W.W.F.L.D. (What Would Fran Lebowitz Do?) bracelet, and I looked down at it while watching the series, abdicating my critical thinking capacity is not the action that would come to mind. Knowing that Lebowitz herself would pounce if someone else were to espouse a half-baked theory with logic gaps, is precisely what compels me to do the same when I feel her opinions don’t pass muster.
There aren’t many people, especially in America, who get to exist as a public intellectual in the way that Lebowitz does. One of the responsibilities that should come with that is a willingness to engage in spirited debate, not simply to pontificate.
Maybe that can be the premise of Season 2.
The Surprising Ascent of KAWS
This thorough profile of KAWS in The New York Times Magazine offers both a portrait of the artist and a critical examination of the art world that he has one foot in and one foot out of. But perhaps my favorite nugget was the revelation that KAWS used to do background animation for the MTV animated series Daria. That elevates him to an even higher place of esteem in my book. The Times piece also gives me an opportunity to resurface the story of when I stood next to KAWS on a crowded, nose-shoved-into-someone’s armpit L train. I asked him if he was KAWS, and when he said yes, I told him I really liked his work. Then we stood next to each other in crowded, awkward silence for four more stops until he got off.
–Justin
Death Don't Have No Mercy (Fillmore West, 2/27/69)
I had the distinct honor of force-feeding a cursory introduction to the Grateful Dead to my classic-rock-loving-yet-Dead-novice girlfriend. In my streaming-generation opinion, there is no better place to start than Long Strange Trip, a six-part docuseries. If the series is too daunting or uninteresting, the soundtrack is the next best place to start. This is the first song.
Like the film, the Long Strange Trip soundtrack skips entire portions of the Dead's history because it focuses on the bigger picture. Some eras are soft-peddled and some classic songs are missing but by threading in studio cuts with the live tracks, this gives a good idea of everything the Grateful Dead did and why they matter.
–Stephen Thomas Erlewine–Andrew
Fat Freddy's Drop Live at Alexandra Palace 2017
Rather than asking the impossible (annoying) question of, “Who is your favorite artist?” I have always opted for a slightly more creative variation (though perhaps equally annoying, you be the judge): “Which artist(s) would you pay $200 to see live right now?” This question, however, is not really pandemic proof. I’d probably pay $200 to see Rebecca Black live right now.
A couple weeks ago in the aforementioned “Oh Fire” music group, Mike shared a song from Fat Freddy’s Drop, which prompted Lynne to share this video. Within an hour, I went from never having heard of the band, to placing them comfortably on my $200 list (the post-Pandemic elite version, of course). Do yourself a favor and watch this on the biggest screen you have, with the loudest speakers, and one or eight of your favorite people.