It’s hard to imagine what the modeling industry would have been like without Pat Evans. Blazing an anomalous trail in a staunchly conventional industry, Evans was the first model to subvert that convention by atrophying one of the most prized signifiers of beauty and femininity: her hair. “Me and Grace Jones were ahead of our time,” she says with an air of certitude that can only come from that of an undisputed iconoclast. With over two decades in the modeling industry under her belt, it’s safe to say that Evans has seen and done it all. Her resume is impeccable: she has graced the pages of top magazines, ripped the runways at the world’s biggest fashion capitals donning haute couture from the most celebrated designers of our time, and was a stylist and make-up artist for icons such as Diahann Carroll, Cicely Tyson, Aretha Franklin, and Isaac Hayes. Respect her swag.
Williamsburg is quite a contradiction. Despite the small town Main Street aesthetic of the Brooklyn neighborhood, it has become a catchall hipster haven for art school dropouts, transient scabs, and self-absorbed bohemian types in above average tax brackets ravenously gentrifying the area. Yet with the social discrepancies whirling around him, Chaz Bundick seems pretty indifferent. It’s possible that his high-energy performance to a throng of sweaty revelers at New York’s nightlife stalwart Webster Hall the previous night has left him a bit lethargic. Or maybe he’s simply got music on his mind. “I’m seeing lots of influence from trance and house,” he says as a car whizzes by blaring the latest from Rihanna’s canon of hits. At 25-years old, he’s developed a keen sense of musical trends. He’s well aware that the times they are a-changin’. “People are getting more used to it on the radio, it’s becoming more normal to hear four-on-the-floor beats. Even hip-hop artists are using those beats. That’s helping people open up to electronic music.”
Freshly defected from the acclaimed Inglewood hip-hop duo U-N-I, Thurz bombs the system with a bucket of wheat paste and pages from Ice Cube’s 1991 manifesto.
“Our place does not have phone or internet.” Judging by this comment from visual artist Ted Coconis, it’s understandable if you’ve concluded that he has either retreated into Amish country or fallen into one hell of a time warp. From his secluded studio in a beautifully bucolic stretch of Maine, the prolific and influential illustrator laughs incredulously at the idea of being tethered to technology past and present. “We’re solar powered, so there’s no traditional electricity available. No cell reception anywhere near either, so we’re basically incommunicado.” While the thought of being unable to access social networking platforms like Twitter or Facebook for more than an hour would equate to torture for many, this is splendid solitude to 84-year-old Coconis. “I deal with the outside world when I go to town every few days. It’s a bit of a nuisance for others, maybe, but it suits me just fine.”
Hear ye, hear ye: King is officially the shit. Just incase you’ve been living under an avalanche of ill-informed blog posts or missed the avid endorsements by the likes of Erykah Badu, Questlove, and Phonte over the past few months, here’s your late pass. Just when you thought they would drift out into the endless abyss of buzzworthy online indie acts, yet another commodifiable act of adoration has been bestowed upon LA-based vocal trio King: they were hand picked by Prince himself to open for him during the final show of his recent residency at the LA Forum.
