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chrisevansluv · 3 years

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Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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louistomlinsoncouk · 5 years

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Louis Tomlinson: ‘It took some real maturity to understand that One Direction wasn't real life’

I meet Louis Tomlinson at Simon Cowell's London office: a huge, two-room space befitting of a Bond villain at Sony Music’s HQ in High Street Kensington, on the floor occupied by his label, Syco. Cowell, to be clear, isn’t here, but he definitely feels present. A ten-foot portrait of the music mogul smirks down on all those who enter from the minimalist living room wall. Tomlinson, his publicist and I go straight through the frosted glass doors into the office-proper to do our interview, but before we can start the 27-year-old One Direction member turned solo artist needs a cigarette.

Within 30 seconds someone has brought Tomlinson a heavy orb-shaped black ashtray and a cup of tea. He lights up – smoking two more over the next half an hour – and visibly relaxes, leaning back in his chair. Tomlinson has the air of a comedic TV personality: warm, funny and self-effacing, he makes regular references to his hometown of Doncaster (“Donny”), has a loud, theatrical voice and swears like a trooper. “Simon won’t mind,” he says – and mind Cowell shouldn’t. One Direction, one of the most successful boy bands of all time, were Cowell’s cash cow after he brought them together on the X Factor in 2010. Since going on “hiatus” in 2016, all five boys (now men in their mid-twenties) launched solo careers, but only Tomlinson stuck with Syco. Now, Cowell's last vestige of the One Direction big bucks is gearing up to release a debut album, which, as anyone who knows anything about the fervour of the band's fans will be well aware, is already a guaranteed hit.

Tomlinson has, however, taken a big risk. Dressed in a vintage red football shirt, black tracksuit bottoms and black trainers, hair still styled into sweeping boy band perfection, he explains that this new music is “a statement of intent”. Gone are the saccharine, dance-tinged pop beats heard on his 2017 and 2018 collaborations with Bebe Rexha and Steve Aoki. Instead, his latest single “Kill My Mind” is a nineties rock-inspired anthem that sounds like an ode to Oasis. “I spent a long time treading water working out where I fit in the industry,“ he says. “I had to work out what it is I can actually get away with, and just how much I have to play for radio,” explaining that he did the aforementioned collaborations “because I felt like I had Tomlinson says that, unlike former bandmates Zayn Malik and Liam Payne, both of who have released music obviously influenced by hip-hop and R&B, “I can’t really relate to the urban-leaning sounds you hear on American radio”. Instead, he cites Catfish And The Bottlemen as an influence (“Lyrically, it’s conversational and honest”) and spends his time listening to Apple Music playlist “Kebab On The Night Bus”, which features bands such as The Arctic Monkeys, The Stone Roses, The Who and Idles . The result is a solo output that, finally, makes him feel “really excited and really proud. This is where I want to be.

So what does he want this new music to say about him, other than he likes guitar music? “I want people to look at me as a good and credible songwriter.” Overall, what I want from my lyrics is honesty,” he elaborates. “I want it to be real. I don’t want them to feel Hollywood or contrived.” Most of the album is “very autobiographical”, but he’s also taken care to keep it “exciting”, after listening to the earliest version of it and feeling that “A lot of it sounded quite sad.” Tomlinson, who lost his younger sister earlier this year, references the single before “Kill My Mind”, “Two Of Us”, which is about his late mother, Johannah Deakin, who passed away in 2016 after a battle with leukaemia. “That’s a very, very honest song, but it was also very emotionally heavy. I don’t want to be known as that guy.” What, the stereotypical mope with a guitar? “Yeah, exactly, I don’t want people feeling sorry for me. I want people to feel good when they listen to my music. That’s one of the amazing things we had with One Direction.”

Together with Liam Payne, Tomlinson did a lot of the writing for One Direction, which, on reflection, he thinks he was driven to do so that he might find his role in the band. “This isn’t a relatable statement,” he acknowledges, “but I imagine that anyone who’s been in a band or boyband will understand this feeling. There were definitely times in the band that I felt like I could do more or sing more, which is why I actively tried to get better as a writer, because I thought that would be my outlet.”

Now Tomlinson feels like he's found his writing groove, but is he worried the One Direction fans might not like his new music? “Yeah and that’s what creates a bit of a conundrum actually, because that’s very relevant for me,” he says. “I feel like, to a certain degree, we all owe them something. We are where we are because of them, it’s as simple as that.” As my colleagues here at GQ can attest – this 2013 interview with the band got us death threats – upsetting fervent One Direction fans is not an action to be taken lightly. He says that he’s “deliberately included songs on the album that feel a little bit transitional, so it won’t be too alienating towards the fans”. Lyrically, however, he feels like he still “writes what they want to hear, because it’s honest and it’s real and it’s me pouring my heart out”.

But with a ready-made audience come anxiety-inducing benchmarks. “Having the experience of being in 1D was incredible and it’s given me so much to work with, but it’s also hard in terms of expectation, because that was the pinnacle of what we were,” he says sombrely, referring back to the time spent mulling over how to balance making music that’s authentic with finding his place in the mainstream. “If I’d done this interview two years ago, I’d have said to you that if my album doesn’t get to No1 I’ll feel like I’ve failed. It embarrasses me saying that shit out loud now, but it took some real maturity to understand that One Direction wasn’t real life... Everything I’d been shaping my experiences around was something that wasn’t real life, even in the music industry.”

We laugh about those heady days, when he was 18-24, fresh out of Doncaster and making the kind of money 99.9 per cent of us can only ever dream about. “There was a solid time when I spent a long time looking at the most stupid, ridiculous things to spend money on,” he says when I ask him about his own crazy popstar purchases, having read that Liam Payne once bought the Ford Anglia from Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets. “I’ve got a long list of random movie props that starts with the great opener of the leg braces that Tom Hanks wears in Forest Gump. Have I ever got them out? No. I looked at them when I bought them like, ‘Oh, this is amazing,’ but really, I’m not a showy person, I’m not going to have them on display in my house.” Also stored away (“I’ve got Hard Rock Cafe in one cupboard”) are the swords from Kill Bill.

[...]

Has he ever considered retiring out of the public eye? “I’ve thought about that loads of times. It’s only the fans, and the fact I have a point to prove to myself, that keep me getting up every day and getting on to do it,” he says. “When I’m 50, I’m going to go off and get my coaching badges and I’m going to manage some youth team and win the FA Youth Cup with them.” So with all the intense media scrutiny, the feeling that you owe millions of people around the world well, something, and a hugely successful stint as a musician already under his belt, what’s he’s still trying to prove with his solo career? “People and the press love to say, ‘Oh, A and B will do well, but the rest of the lads, they’re not going to do anything.’ So my point I’m trying to prove is that I’m still going to be here in ten years, I hope”.

#louis tomlinson #press #kmm: british gq #kill my mind promo #19sep19 #it's not the full thing

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dailytomlinson · 5 years

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Tomlinson says that, unlike former bandmates Zayn Malik and Liam Payne, both of who have released music obviously influenced by hip-hop and R&B, “I can’t really relate to the urban-leaning sounds you hear on American radio”. Instead, he cites Catfish And The Bottlemen as an influence (“Lyrically, it’s conversational and honest”) and spends his time listening to Apple Music playlist “Kebab On The Night Bus”, which features bands such as The Arctic Monkeys, The Stone Roses, The Who and Idles . The result is a solo output that, finally, makes him feel “really excited and really proud. This is where I want to be.”

Still three years shy of 30 and living between London and LA (where he shares a home with his best friend from Doncaster, Olly), Tomlinson seems to have finally found some balance.

#gq magazine #190919 #kmm press #stunt mention #press #louis tomlinson

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thebrewstorian · 7 years

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Pop Culture Conference 2017: Beer Culture: Session 7: Media

This session was a bit of a mashup, but combined a couple of my favorite things: cider and 90s tv. If you are a certain age you will remember Fun Bobby.

When I found out I was presenting at this conference I was thrilled at the idea that someone would include a Friends slide. Meghann Ryan fulfilled this wish in her talk "As Seen on TV: When Drinking Culture Becomes Famous."

Ryan looked at how alcohol is portrayed on tv and found that, generally, you see alcohol is either a lot of fun or something that will destroy your life. You don't find moderation or uncomplicated enjoyment - everything is overdone, alcohol is dangerous, and before you know it your life is over. It's easy to bring up the "overdone" trope if you think about a show like Celebrity Rehab...

Much of the problem lies in the realm of tv regulations, starting with the Hays Code, which is actually the Motion Picture Production Code. I did a little more research on this and found this was a set of industry "moral guidelines" applied to most US movies released by major studios from 1930 to 1968. Read more at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code and pay particular attention to the section with "Don'ts" and "Be Carefuls," which were the 1927 guidelines intended to protect viewers from exposure to dangerous ideas or scenes that normalized behavior that went against the grain of "good" society. Look through the list and you'll see how paternalistic these are and how they promote "traditional values" (read white and heterosexual). Further, it's clear the code assumes people are "pure at heart" until corrupted by immoral ideas; they assume viewers uncritically consume ideas or are swayed by the very suggestion of "impropriety."

How does this relate to this alcohol topic? The code said that drug use could only be shown if it has something to do with the plot, and of course condemned its use. Of course it might go without saying that people weren't allowed to drink actual alcohol on tv either, and to this day the fines are steep if you are imbibing real wine or a real beer. There is some flexibility based on genre, and of course pay sites like HBO or Netflix have more flexibility.

While regulations have continued to be known, over time you see a lot of passing of the buck in enforcement. So the FCC blames broadcasters, and then the lobbyists get involved with threats threatening to make them "big tobacco" where they drown in regulations (I think, though as I've mentioned in previous posts sometimes my notes aren't helpful). There was a strong wave of "prevention groups," usually focusing their concern on vulnerable younger people. The fear was that teens would see ads and then start drinking, and then if they see ads for a certain brand they'd develop a favorite brand and wouldn't be able to stop.

This "youth danger" theme was one of a few main ones you see. In looking at when alcohol is permitted we see some contradictions. One is that it's okay to drink if you've done sports and it's okay to have alcohol ads during sporting events. Another is that drinking is fine if it is generally part of a recreational outdoor activity.

And of course it's okay in war -- where did those MASH guys get their still?

Another one is the "heroic struggle over alcohol." Think back to the character of Otis in Mayberry (Andy Griffin show); he's the town drunk, though oddly enough you don't ever actually see him drink and his over consumption is implied. In a remake years later, Otis' story turns into a "cure" story because Otis comes back and is sober; he's overcome his problems and so can you.

The show Cheers was an interesting one, and not just because it was a neighborhood bar that was a welcoming place or that the owner was a reformed alcoholic. At the Cheers bar not everyone drank -- the two exceptions being the hard workers / working class.

The 80s and 90s were fun and yet confusing decades for many reasons...

In the Simpsons the cause of and solution to all problems was Duff beer. The guys in King of the Hill bonded in an alley, standing in a line nightly to drink their generic American beer. Yuppy culture was also forming, and for sit coms this seemed to mean that no bars were allowed. Lots happens at coffee and juice bars, in mansions, or at crazy teen dances. This is a decade where you see a lot of "very special episodes," many involving teens, which are basically superficial cure stories.

Enter Reality TV! The NYTimes said that tv has a drinking problem - and they say the characters on reality tv and the entire model of wanting "real" drama has driven an irresponsible drinking culture. We make jokes about wanting to drink all the time (I'm guilty: I sent a message during a staff meeting yesterday morning mentioning my desire for a glass of wine). Though the only ingestion is happening on cartoons, alcohol is everywhere and we don't see a call for moderation. Think about the universe's biggest televised event (the Super Bowl) and how much pressure there is to drink beer.

At the same time, recently we’ve see an increase in food and travel shows, People are exploring, cooking, and drinking in a range of local or international locales. Maybe we can hope that this focus on exploring historic or regional recipe books, themed alcohol concoctions, and food DIY will encourage a different approach to drinking, one that is more social and balanced.

So I warned you that this was a hodgepodge session! The second half was a talk by Andi McClanahan called "The Gendering of Hard Cider." I actually wish I'd been in a session with McClanahan because after seeing her session there is interesting overlap in the work that we do around gender.

She explored various levels of gendering in cider, starting with the cider house itself, and noticed that many cider houses talk about the decor or service, but not about the cider. She mentioned the Pomme Boots, which was started by three women in the NW. She also talked about general drinking trends, namely that men are more continuous drinkers, women come in and out.

Cider is also known as a beverage that can bridge wine and beer markets, often noted as closer to wine because of the fruit, but with an alcohol content closer to what you'd find in beer. As the industry is maturing, producers are thinking about how to market it and whether those approaches need to be gendered. In addition to maturation, this industry is notable for its relatively quick growth; however, historically when an "alternative beverage" has come out the trend is to see an initial spike and then falling off in profits. McClanahan noted that cider currently accounts for 1% of sales in the US, while it accounts for 14% in the UK. The UK market has gender parity in production and consumption.

I've done some thinking about cider and have interviewed a few (male) cider makers, so I was surprised by the next part of her talk about marketing practices. She found a push towards gendering cider in a male-centric way through marketing and advertising. She found some solid "sexual scripts" and macho images. She showed some wonderful ads and unfortunately tech troubles prevented her from also showing video commercials. The first example was Angry Orchard, which early on branded themselves with a sort of sternness and evilness to appeal to masculine characteristics. But women flocked to it. In response, they changed their marketing to focus more on local production or other aspects of the industry.

Do a Google search for Original Sin Cider... This cider blends their product with a variety of different themes. So you get biblical iconography, a Geisha, and naughty teacher, and many have the tag line "sin here."

Bite Hard is another one to Google. They are marketing their product as robust and "canned with gumption." One favorite line of mine was the "creation myth" that Bite Hard started after pressure from "the craft beer drinker's girlfriend." Ads show women drinking from wine glasses and men are drinking from pint glasses. You can guess why.

Smith & Forge encourages "guys" to discover, and their marketing oozes testosterone. Make no mistake, this is a bro cider. Blake's Hard Cider gives their ciders masculine names and a favorite tag line from their commercials is delivered by scantily clad women purring "How hard is it?" Yes, go ahead and make the leap there and assume it's a double entendre. Finally, you get Julian, a cider that is more American than beer. You'd be right if you guessed that their marketing is patriotic and their cider will get you ready for a fight.

Curious about the Fun Bobby picture?

Curious about the MASH picture?

#cider #tv history #beer on tv #reality tv #beer history

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