Tim Burton―director of the underdogs, odd-balls, freaks, and supernaturals with works like Alice In Wonderland, Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, and Beetlejuice―is the first auteur that comes to mind during the Christmas season for me thanks to 1993′s The Nightmare Before Christmas. Now, with a career-spanning retrospective going on at NYC’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), all New Yorkers will be able to understand his warped sensibilities, respect for the mutated, and appreciation for the dementia that flows through the veins of our modern societies. Tim Burton, as we all ought to know, is much more than just the man who made Batman. Obviously, while I think we all should check out the MoMA exhibit―which, by the way, features numberless drawings, sketches, character designs, storyboards, and so on from the man’s archives―I recognize that that’s impossible for most, so I’ve decided to discuss three of my Tim Burton favorites, all of which I hold are severely under-appreciated.

Vincent (1982)
Burton’s first film, Vincent (You Tube >) is a mostly-stop-motion six-minute short about a severely maladjusted boy named Vincent, who, like Burton himself, models himself after Vincent Price. The whole piece is written in rhyming meter (a commonality when it comes to Burton) and delves into Vincent’s quirks (he prefers Poe over Go Jane Go) and pent up emotions (he wants to dip his aunt in wax). While the animation is jerky and a little flat at times, it is so blatantly a precursor to Burton’s later works (Nightmare, Beetlejuice, James and the Giant Peach), that one really must see it at least one.

Frankenweenie (1984)
After Vincent, Burton tried to pull a few more gigs at Disney, the studio at which his producer-girlfriend worked, including a new version of Hansel and Gretel that was promptly shelved upon completion (Hansel and Gretel combating the witch with kung-fu didn’t float executives’ boat). With Frankenweenie (Part 1; Part 2; Part 3), though, Burton finally got a live-action flick completed, screened, and distributed (albeit still limitedly). The 30-minute short stars Shelley Duvall (one of my favorite actresses and an early supporter of Burton’s work) and revolves around―you guessed it―a dog being brought back to life by a boy who misses him dearly. Think Frankenstein and his monster but with kids in suburbia. The dark humor of the film (“I don’t know what this means,” the father laments upon learning of the household’s zombie pet. “It means you don’t have to go through house-training another dog!” replies the son.) combined with the eerily romantic soundtrack and nuanced backwardness of the story’s premise and plot made it obvious to all that Burton would soon be directing such greats as Edward Scissorhands, Ed Wood, James and the Giant Peach, and so on.

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories (1996)
As the MoMA exhibit makes exceptionally clear, Burton is known for his films first and foremost, of course, but it is his drawings that bring those movies to life. While his pen-and-paper productions pale in comparison to his celluloid efforts, they still embody the boundlessly rich imagination and unique weirdness of Burton just as much as any feature-length flick. Oyster Boy, a collection of several of Burton’s illustrated stories, was published after the largely overlooked Ed Wood biopic, logically titled Ed Wood. Each story within is about a misfit child. There’s Oyster Boy, Match Girl, Stainboy (a character who later starred in a few animations―Episode 1 ), and others. Again, Burton expresses his unrelenting empathy with and understanding of the pains of growing up an outcast, all the time stressing the importance and value of being an individual in this big and scary, dark and confusing world.

The movie news of the year―at least on this side of the Atlantic―has almost wholly revolved around Spike Jonze’s filmic adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s seminal children’s book, Where the Wild Things Are, an innocent-looking 48-page essential that no good mother would be caught without. The big screen version of the generation-transcending classic is quite visually spectacular and emotionally moving (I’m not going to get into criticism or review here―The New Yorker’s for that), which is, not incidentally, what most Sendak fans assumed it wouldn’t be. (“How can you―and why do you want to―inject live-action life into a masterpiece of the two dimensional?” many asked.) The magical transformation from innocuous paperback to grandiose $100-million-dollar-budget silver screen spectacle can be explained by noting the importance of a simple “a-ha” moment Jonze had several years ago upon splitting with his girlfriend Sophia Coppola: The Wild Things embody wild emotions (anger, fear, and loathing; happiness, exuberance, and excitement). The trouble-making director, along with one of this generation’s most lauded scribes, Dave Eggers, transformed Sendak’s bedtime story into an exploration of the most primordial feelings that unify us all.

Unusually, the film did not come attached with the usual Disney-style marketing package (numerous throw-away action figures, cheap pajamas, lunch boxes, video games, and so on), but rather a sort of grassroots call to (creative) arms. Where The Wild Things Are gave people the bug to simply create in reverential celebration of a seminal work of toddler fiction. Obviously, Jonze et al. had a roll in the development of these “extended value” efforts, but theirs was more of the warm, encouraging father than the demanding, out-of-touch boss. Read on for a rundown of some of my favorite objects that were created in concordance with the flick.

The Wild Things by Dave Eggers
In my opinion, Eggers is not only one of the greatest American novelists of today (his works include A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius and What Is the What), but also one of the most inspiring socially conscious individuals out there. The man founded McSweeney’s, an exceptionally literary independent book publisher that celebrates every talented writer around; started 826 National, a nonprofit organization that tutors children in need after school; wrote two books (What Is the What and Zeitoun), both of which were expressedly published for charities (The Lost Boys Of Sudan and the Zeitoun Foundation respectively); and still found time to co-write the screenplay for Wild Things, another one of his many acts of sheer humanistic passion. 
Released on the same day as the U.S. opening of the film, The Wild Things is a novelization of the movie. The story is essentially the same with one big (obvious) difference: inner monologues. The Wild Things serves as a wonderful companion to the big screen adaptation in that it sheds more light on the nuances of the characters and Max’s dream world. It also works as an excellent young adult stand-alone read, both noteworthy for its curiously sophisticated tone (that’s what happens when a genius constructs fodder for a developing mind) and its life-affirming themes (kids and grownups alike have “wild things” inside them that can never―and should never―be squelched or denied). 

Huck magazine cover story
Huck, a U.K. lifestyle publication for the more scholarly amongst skaters, surfers, and slackers, did an extensive interview with Jonze for its December/January ’09 issue, the cover of which is graced with a Geoff McFetridge-penned portrait of the director with a costumed Max entering his mouth and perching on his shoulder while reading Sendak’s triumph. McFetridge, who did most of the preliminary artwork for the movie, also drew the cover for the November/December ’09 issue of Little White Lies, which is themed solely around Wild Things. 

Geoff McFetridge desktop wallpaper for Kitsune Noir
McFetridge also contributed two designs to Kitsune Noir’s Desktop Wallpaper Project―now Max and company can don your computer screen!

Where the Wild Things Are original soundtrack by Karen O. and the Kids
It’s a shame that more film scores aren’t made specifically for their films! Until the 1980s, that certainly wasn’t the case, but now, in today’s world of music-licensing-as-the-record-industry’s-future and brainless music supervisors, the bulk of what hits the silver screen is accompanied by is useless pop ditties.
Fortunately, Jonze had the guts and creative wherewithal to ignore this arbitrary convention. He enlisted the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s banshee chanteuse Karen O. and “the Kids”―YYY’s Nick Zinner, Brian Chase, and Imaad Wasif; Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox; Liars’ Aaron Hemphill Liars; the Dead Weather’s Dean Fertita and Jack Lawrence; and, presumably, a whole mess of actual kids―to compose Where the Wild Things Are’s musical element. The album isn’t incredibly good on its own, but when gulped down with the film, it’s spot-on. O.’s screeches serve as a sort of empathetic, unifying siren that “gets” Max. The music is all at once deeply ingrained into the life of the movie (for example, O. often screams in tandem with Max), and also detached like a friend who’s there to assure you that everything’s okay and whatever you’re doing is the right thing to do. (AS. Listen and read the review at Pitchfork)

Opening Ceremony’s Where the Wild Things Are collection
Opening Ceremony has become notorious for its courageous, impassioned collaborations with others like Penfield, Uniqlo, and Chloë Sevigny, but its Wild Things collection represents a new concept for the bicoastal boutique. With the help of several brands, O.C. developed a sort of patchwork line that includes animal-print Keds, handcrafted Pamela Love jewelry, and furry garments that both figuratively and literally pay their dues to Sendak’s work with a couture twist. 

Christian Joy-designed costumes
Karen O.’s clothing (costume?) designer hopped on the bandwagon too with some truly mesmerizing Wild Things-inspired threads. Instead of using Jonze’s autumnal palette, Joy grabbed bright yellows, oranges, and pinks; in lieu of think and heavy fur, she selected confetti-looking materials that might’ve fallen off a piñata. The result is a festive reinterpretation of what we’ve come to know as the Wild Things.

Wild Things Kubrick figurines
The figurine collector in all of us can rest easy as Japan’s Kubrick released an eight-piece collection of Wild Things toys. Personally, I’m not much into the world of (often expensive) vinyl and acrylic figures, but the Lego-esque Kubricks are a hoot and certainly one of the cutest examples of Wild Things swag around. 


In these heated, confusing times of economic recession and political angst, unavoidably and inevitably, we all find ourselves listening to music of the more soothing variety to put our world in balance and perspective. Some folks veer towards the classical end of the musical spectrum while others default to country; the cheesier of those among us turn to Kenny G. while the more refined look to Coltraine; but we Anthem staffers increasingly find ourselves on a sonic journey to Scandinavia for our aural Xanax fix.

Maybe it’s the fjords; maybe it’s the omega-3 fatty acid diet; or maybe it’s just the placid snow-covered, oftentimes sunless landscape the Northerners dwell in. Whatever it is, we Americans find ourselves entirely in want of the X Factor that is making the musicians mentioned below (and many more) pump out such mesmerizing and enchanting tunes. Here are some of our favorite new disco/new Balearic/cosmic disco favorites (don’t worry about the genre monikers―just jam).

Lindstrøm
Hans-Peter Lindstrøm is often seen as the godfather (or maybe reigning crown prince) of new disco (or whatever you care to call the amorphous genre). The Oslo native wasn’t always a disco aficionado, though; back in the late 90s, the man was loosely connected to the Norwegian gospel rock band the Silver Voices, often playing organ. At the turn of the century, he began doing spacey work under the alias Slow Supreme.

It wasn’t until the founding of his label, Feedelity, that he became the lauded cosmic disco maestro he is today. He and his girlfriend, Christabelle (a.k.a. Solale), dropped the warbley, spiraling, somewhat demonic jam “Music (In My Mind)” and the rest, as they say, is history. Lindstrøm, a notorious 9-to-5 workaholic, is impressive in that every one of his releases marks not a creative quantum leap forward, but a calculated, decisive stylistic progression. “Arp She Said” and “I Feel Space,” both of which were released in 2005, represented the first push forward (all 12″s from this period were collected on It’s A Feedelity Affair, released by Smalltown Supersound). Lindstrøm notedly became more epic, stressing the necessity of densely layered tracks and painstakingly restrained climactic buildups. The 2007 EP, Breakfast In Heaven, marked another step ahead in that Lindstrøm finally popped out the club banger we’d been waiting for (diskJokke’s remix of the title track is even heavier than the original―the extended-player was clearly made for peak hours).

In 2008, something big happened: Lindstrøm spawned Where You Go I Go Too, a three-track roller-coaster ride album that merged fanatic prog rock with impassioned yet still ethereal disco melodies and bass lines to a truly trip-inducing experience. Where You Go marked Lindstrøm at his creative peak, for sure, but still, for the most part, the multi-instrumentalist avoided working with vocalists like he had at his beginning. That seems to be changing, however, as he and Christabelle are working together again! The pair are dropping Real Life Is No Cool early next year, and judging by the first track, “Baby Can’t Stop,” we’re in for a doozy. The tune is once again a muscular venture into ethereal dance music, but this time Lindstrøm tips his hat to Cybotron and other early house innovators, leading me to wonder just what marvels he’s got up his sleeve. Like any good magician, Lindstrøm is not about shocking his audience’s pants of, though; instead, over the course of a full career, he hones his skills in a nuanced and subtle fashion, making his “tricks” pop to life in an impactful and stunning manner.

Prins Thomas
Thomas (Thomas Moen Hermansen) is Lindstrøm’s number one partner in crime. Together, they’ve created four or five “groups” and have worked closely since the early 2000s. They share a studio, too. Thomas is by no means as prolific as Lindstrøm―he tends to stick to making mixes and remixes―but he’s created some pretty awesome material on his own. This year, we saw the release of “Mammutt,” a syrupy slow jam that starts innocently (maybe you’ll bob your head a bit), but climaxes heavy and hard (your hips, feet, hands, legs, and everything else will be fully consumed by the seductive rhythm). To me, Thomas is like Lindstrøm’s editor, making sure the guy never gets too nutty or out-there on their collaborative works. Nonetheless, if he continues to make stuff like “Mammut,” a spectacular solo career is in the cards for him as well.

diskJokke
The youngest of the Norwegians I’m discussing today, diskJokke is no less innovative and unique. Unlike the others, though, he leans more towards the house side of the spectrum, so know that pretty much all of his music is for dancing (and not working or sleeping or brooding). Staying In, his 2007 debut full-length, got me interested, but it wasn’t until the man started churning out remixes like it was his job (it pretty much is by now), starting with, coincidentally, Lindstrøm’s “Breakfast In Heaven.” He did one for Lykke Li… and then Metronomy… and then Foals… and then the xx… and, well, you get the picture. He’s a hot commodity in the indie rock world as he’s known for cranking up anyone’s tune to 11 yet maintaining its original artistic integrity.

Aeroplane
Aeroplane is one of my favorite duos right now (something that is difficult to legitimize as they’ve only release a few singles and EPs). The Belgian-based pair are also helming the new disco movement, but they do so with a little more awareness of the past. “Whispers,” their first “hit,” is nothing more than an immaculate homage to 70s steamy disco, thanks in large part to Kathy Diamond’s vocals. Their first song, “Caramellas,” too, is a straightforward modernization of a genre we haven’t seen with this sort of authenticity for three decades.
Word is that the guys are putting out their first LP next year and are currently in the process of mixing and mastering it. 


It need not be reiterated that over the past few years we’ve seen an unprecedented number of collaborative projects between pairs or trios of brands that may or may not be from the same industry. Major efforts of this variety have been embraced by both massive corporations (Target has been doing it for years and now plans to work with Rodarte for a seasonal collection; Pepsi famously teamed up with A Bathing Ape; Jil Sander’s +J line for Uniqlo is in stores now) and smaller ones (Monocle has worked with countless people, from Comme des Garçons to Porter; practically every issue of Arkitip, a tiny independent Southern California art publication, features a collaboration with folks like Mike Mills and Peter Saville).

This trend isn’t unusual per se, however: All sorts of companies have partnered with non-employees and separate businesses for ages, but for the most part, such pairings haven’t been publicized or used as marketing ploys. So why is it that we can no longer enter a store as ubiquitous as the Gap or J. Crew and not catch sight of a tag that features both the shop’s name and an affiliate’s? Simple: Sustaining a brand’s image and reputation is harder than ever due to cheap forms of marketing and the impact of the Internet today; additionally, the “two is better than one” mindset has convinced many clothiers, luggage manufacturers, cobblers, liquor producers, and so on to shack up with competitors with equal ambition and creativity or companies outside of their field who can spread whatever product they make in conjunction to their loyalists. Belvedere may not be the choice vodka of hipsters, but if Parisian graffiti artist and restaurant and hotel owner André slaps his Mr. A. character on their bottles, it will instantly become a nightclub hit.

The following is a rundown of some of our favorite collaborations as of late in no particular order.

Kitsuné X Weston

For as long as we can remember, we’ve been tremendous fans of the French record label/fashion house Kitsuné. Recently, the dance scene staple has majorly classed up its act with the opening and successive expansion of its fashion arm. They’ve allied themselves with Petit Bateau to make a couple cute V-neck tees and now they’re making swanky loafers and boots with Weston.

Fantastic Man X Byredo Parfums

This one has been much publicized, but seeing as some Anthem staffers wear the cologne regularly, it only makes sense that the product be brought up. Byredo Parfums is a relatively new perfume maker of old-school tendencies. The stuff they produce is exceptionally gentlemanly (or gentlewomanly), sophisticated, and simple a la, say, Chanel’s famous No. 5 perfume. It only makes sense, then, that Fantastic Man, a quarterly publication from the same country with the same underlying aesthetic, concoct an irresistible cologne with them.

OBEY X Catbreath

Catbreath, an up-and-coming NYC designer, recently made a tastefully minimal capsule collection for Shepard Fairey’s skateboard-cum-propaganda institution OBEY, a company with which she holds few things in common. However, such a project only strengthens and broadens both parties’ fan bases.

Poketo X Kitsune Noir

Kitsune Noir, an arts and culture blog owned and operated by an L.A.-based graphic designer, just created a set of four wall decals and some T-shirts for the kitschy design company Poketo. Teaming up with an established artist on a freelance basis has always been a big part of product development, but until recently, such relationships were left unpublicized or confined to the inside of a book’s dust jacket.

Stüssy X Xaime Hernandez

Xaime Hernandez, one of the three Hernandez Brothers, authors of the seminal comic book series Love And Rockets, was strangely picked up by skateboard mainstay Stüssy for a few tees as well. The black-and-white screenprinted garments feature original work by the underground comic book god, making them appealing to geeks of the genre and punk skateboarders (what’s the world coming to!?)

Keds X Opening Ceremony

Keds, longtime purveyor of sneakers for elementary school students, ironically hip twentysomethings, and geriatric old men alike sought out Opening Ceremony‘s infinite cool in an effort to revitalize their iconic kicks that, let’s be honest, have become a little stale over the past few decades. Some of the resultant designs looks like the shoes we know so well attempting to don flashy neckties, but others are truly impressive in that they’re subtle upgrades of a modern day classic.

Hermès X Liberty

Not only mid-market companies collaborate! Hermès, one of the world’s most expensive brands, asked Liberty to lend the French label its Tana Lawn print for a series of six beautiful silk scarves that Hermès creative director of silk designed, making duly certain, of course, to incorporate the Hermès ex Libris logo.

HUF X Jansport

Jansport, another one of those brands normally affiliated with dorky tweens, teens, and the hell that is pre-collegiate education, commissioned San Francisco-based HUF to enliven its luggage offerings. The backpack and duffel they came up with are sporty, utilitarian, and far more sophisticated than what you’d expect to see your little brother hauling to and from band practice, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

At Anthem, we’re all book lovers but in different ways. I personally tend to find myself diving into novels, nonfiction tomes, and, yes, comic books of all shapes and sizes, while others within our editorial family veer more towards the art side of the spectrum, gobbling up coffee table volumes and artist monographs every chance they get. Our mass-market preferences aside, though, we all lovingly support anyone bold enough to try their hand at small press. From ‘zine publishers to pamphlet printers to digital distributors, the independent book-lovers of this day and age inspire us―and pique our curiosity.

For the first installment of Another Anthem, we’ve chosen three such entities that share nothing more in common than a deep-seated passion for the smell of heavy ink mixed with thick paper, the sensation of turning the pages of a yet-to-be-broken-in creaky spine, and, of course, the excitement that one wells up upon discovering a new novelist, illustrator, poet, painter, or what have you. Independent publishers, like us, are indiscriminate as long as the content they carry is top-notch.

LIBRARYMAN

From an American’s perspective, it’s hard to find much―if anything―to complain about when it comes to the creative endeavors of the Swedes: They make some of the most sought-after threads this side of the Atlantic; bridge the gap between high- and low-end fashion with finesse through companies like Cheap Monday; breed graphic designers and illustrators like its their job (my favorite might be Olle Eksell); and seem to sustain themselves with an enviable mixture of humanist good will and curiosity-fueled innovation.

All the above compliments aside, though, Sweden is not known as a publishing megalith (possibly, in part, due to the fact that there aren’t many big authors in the country―Tove Jansso doesn’t count!) LIBRARYMAN may reverse the course of history, however.

The independent has been churning out side-stapled books as part of a series dubbed A Day In the Life Of… that I’m absolutely hooked on. Photographers Viviane Sassen, Jenny Källman, Ola Rindal, and several others have contributed to the ongoing project. Each book is 32 pages, b/w offset printed, 120 x 180mm, and a reasonable €15. Not too shabby for limited-edition, autographed art!

LIBRARYMAN also does hardbound volumes. I’m most excited about the forthcoming Viviane Sassen monograph, which is being produced, financed, and published in collaboration with Our Legacy, a new Swedish menswear label that has been making waves with their artisan crafted wares of the finest quality. Sassen is a beautiful photographer whose b/w work one can’t help but gush over, be mesmerized by. The fact that the book is produced by an incredible printer in Japan is yet another testament to the Swede’s penchant for outsourcing the manufacturing side of things to maintain quality standards, unlike Americans who do so to cut costs.

NIEVES

I’m not quite as familiar with the Swiss as I am with the Swedes, but since they’re neighbors, I feel it fair to say they share a lot more in common with each other than they do with, say, the U.S. But let’s skip the cultural spiel.

Nieves―and it’s adorable The Three Robbers-esque logo―has been around since 2001. The Zürich-based publisher’s strength has always been the same: repetition. Save for a few products (tote bags, posters), all of the company’s wares can be classified as either ‘zines or books/catalogs making the company quite easy, I assume, to sustain in that every couple of weeks there’re three or so new titles to be found on the Web site, most of which cost about $20.

While Nieves has printed photo collections, sketch books, art magazines, and conceptual pamphlets by famous creatives (Kim Gordon, Mike Mills, Harmony Korine) and even avant-garde fashion houses like Cosmic Wonder, I tend to find the stuff they put out by unknowns/little-knowns to be the most compelling. They’re releasing a book that collects the works of Sumi Ink Club, a wonderful L.A.-based organization that invites folks from all walks of life to sit down and doodle with pen and paper―I can’t help but support such a humanistic organization no matter how small it may be. I’ve never heard of Leon Sadler, but his Beano Hedge collection of wobbly, surrealist, ebullient sketches leaves me feeling we ought to be old friends by now. Publishers like Nieves―those that are nimble, cost-efficient, and on-the-pulse―serve the gallerist-to-artist/audience function: They offer a warm, friendly place to view work, and an expected quick turnaround of participants.

BUENAVENTURA PRES

Much of my childhood revolved around reading comics. While I did often mull over―and obsessively collect―superhero monthlies, I focused a tremendous amount of my time acquainting myself with underground comics that most self-appointed geeks of the genre would be hard pressed to read. When I moved to L.A. from Celeveland, I almost immediately discovered Buenaventura Press―which is loosely affiliated with one of the City of Angels’ best book stores, Family―and found myself hooked on the entire roster.

In terms of new stuff, Buenaventura just dropped Matt Furie’s hilarious, almost demented Boys Club 3, a collection of nutty shorts involving a bizarre group of perverted, possibly illiterate mutant friends. They also just delivered Phil Elverum’s Dawn, a 144-page book that’s accompanied by the Microphones/Mount Eerie frontman’s latest solo effort. Buenaventura is also behind a fair amount of the absolutely disgusting Johnny Ryan’s work, including Comic Book Holocaust and Klassic Komix Klub. The titles alone say it all―Ryan, an otherwise subdued, normal sort of nice guy, is wholly against self-censorship of any variety and seems to exist in a Bizarro World of ethics and morals. Obviously, his stuff is funny as hell.

Most importantly, Buenaventura published Kramer’s Ergot 7, an anthology of epic, astronomical proportions (literally―the thing’s 16″X21″). Featured are some of today’s independent comics greats… from Ivan Breunetti to C.F., Matt Groening to Jaime Hernandez, John Pham to Seth. I won’t spoil too much of the absolute doozy of a read, but know that you’ll probably never find something as genre-aggrandizing and -celebrating as Kramer’s. Buenaventura respects its roster members just as much as it respects itself.

After a successful collaboration with Today’s Issue by Bas de Boer we are very proud to announce a collaboration with Anthem Magazine. Nik Mercer, the associate editor of Anthem Magazine, will do a bi-weekly feature called Another Anthem where in he will highlight creativity from around the world. We are looking forward to it! Stay tuned for #1.