I live in walking distance of a movie theater that often shows independent films, and I don't take advantage of this nearly as often as I should. Until yesterday. I got an email that mentioned, among other goings-on in town, the opening of Repo: The Genetic Opera. The title alone hooked me and when I read the synopsis, I knew: this is what I'm doing today.
The premise of the movie is on the off kilter side: in the not too distance and very industrial-goth future, a plague causing organ failure has struck humanity, putting healthy organs into high demand and spurring leaps and bounds in the surgical field. One particular tycoon, Rotti Largo, takes control of basically the whole industry, first, by founding GeneCo. and offering payment plans to help people acquire organs, second, getting ridiculously wealthy and politically powerful, and third, passing a law allowing him to reclaim his 'products' from those who have missed payment deadlines. The Repo-Man carries out the dirty work of repossessing organs, to the delight (that is, disgust) of slasher fans. O there is plenty of blood-n-guts, as one might expect from Saw II, III, and IV director Darren Lynn Bousman. The Repo-Man, who takes a bit of twisted pleasure in his work, is not an out-and-out bad guy: the light of his life is his ailing, motherless daughter, who he keeps locked away... for, ya know, protection...? Well, he means well. Within the Largo family, three over-the-top siblings vie for the inheritance of GeneCo. Then there's the spokeswoman for GeneCo., an opera singer who has some murky back story. Are all the story lines tied up together? You betcha!
Did I mention Repo is all sung? This is grand opera, folks, in all its spared-no-expense sets, costumes, and effects, melo-dramatic, spectacular glory. And I was continually impressed by the quality of the singing. Paul Sorvino as Rotti Largo is despicable and awesome, with a booming, menacing voice to match. Anthony Head, who stunned the fan base with his vocal talents in Buffy the Vampire Slayer's famed musical episode, rocks out once more as the Repo Man. I'm not exaggerating, he ROCKS. All caps. Sarah Brightman plays the opera singer icon of GeneCo., so you know you're getting quality vocals from her. I was impressed with her theatricality as an actress, too, although I guess a professional singer of her ilk would have had some time to hone such a skill. Alexa Vega, of Spy-Kids fame, takes on the lead role of the Repo Man's daughter with a vengeance. Some of her songs were stronger than others, but all in all she gave a great performance. I guess when Joan Jett is backing you up on guitar, it's pretty easy to kick ass. Yeah, just when you thought you had this movie figured out, Joan Jett shows up. The Largo brood, played by Skinny Puppy vocalist Ogre, slasher favorite Bill Moseley, and Paris Hilton (I know. It threw me for a loop) are a bit rough around the edges, but it only makes them more likable. In an interview, Ogre and Moseley refer to future collaborations, and it's pretty awesome to watch their dynamic develop on screen. Also, um, Paris Hilton can sing. Who knew? Besides her however many million fans buying her records (note to self: find times. Get with them).
In addition to some knock out performances, the director's/ writers' fun and games with the opera/ film medium itself is fantastic. Repo constantly reminds viewers that they're watching an enormous, produced creation, not just with its inherent camp and elaborate costumes and sets, but also with plays-within-the-play, comic book inspired transitions to flashbacks, addresses to the audience by the drug dealing narrator. The fourth wall isn't just knocked down, it's all over the damn place.
Repo bills itself as being the next Rocky Horror, and while I can certainly see the similarities, I wouldn't necessarily make that call myself. I would, however, suggest to anyone who feels even the slightest penchant for unconventional musical theater, rock opera, punk cabaret (I guess that's its own sub genre now...?), and/ or gothiness to check this one out.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
The Last Shadow Puppets: the first album review
I have some friends in Belgium (why, dahling, of course I'm international) who are awesome and similarly awesome are their tastes in music. The last time I saw them, they burned a fraction of their itunes library for my enjoyment, including the debut album from The Last Shadow Puppets, The Age of the Understatement. The band is one part guy from the Arctic Monkeys, who I don't care for, one part guy from the Rascals, who I know nothing about, and one part guy from Simian Mobile Disco, who I adore. For the album, the group also employed the London Metropolitan Orchestra. Enticing line-up if ever there was one! If nothing else, we know it sounds British...
Of everything my Ghentlefriends gave me, I find myself listening to the Age of the Understatement the most, well, at least top five. Why, pray tell? Well here we go.
As seems to be a big fat trend with indie Brit pop, the overtones come right out the sixties. Not being an expert in this genre or music at all really, I can only suggest reasons for this: the strings which actually sounds stringy as opposed to synthy, the occasional electric organ and tambourine, those Beatle-y ahs and an echoing, scratchiness to the vocals (surely there's an actual word for that quality). And the drama, o lord, it's glorious. When I listen to music, I tend to pay attention to the sounds first, then the words, and one great thing about this album is the two are so well suited to each other, you hear lust, longing, heartache, and angst whether your ears guides you to the instruments or the lyrics.
The title track captivates immediately. Chugging drums underlie a larger, urgent mix of electric guitar, strings, and is that a horn section frosting the tips of this song? Whatever torrents of instrumental and lyrical angst build throughout "The Age of the Understatement," those outlaw, horse-chase drums keep charging along. Cinematic: there's an adjective for this song, and it sets the tone for the whole album.
The album takes an slightly optimistic turn after the first few tracks, with covers of of Billy Fury's "Wondrous Place" and David Bowie's "In the Heat of the Morning" (I had to look that up on wikipedia. I WISH I had that kind of familiarity with Brit pop). But after tipping their hats to their influences, The Puppets continue with tortured, spiteful separation anxiety fire crackers of songs, interspersed among quieter, but still pained melodies. And sometimes in the same song. "Separate and Ever Deadly" revisits the driving drums of the title track, and "Only the Truth," "Black Plant," and "In My Room" could easily find themselves in a spy movie. In fact, I found myself thinking of James Bond more than once as I listened to The Age of the Understatement on repeat. I recommend "I Don't Like You Anymore" to anyone going through a break up, or anyone who has, or well, anyone really. The last two tracks, "Meeting Place" and "The Time Has Come Again," bring the energy level down, but conclude the album on an appropriately forlorn note.
All in all, a fantastic album that balances perfectly woe-is-me-I-hate-you-but-I-would-take-you-back melodrama and get-up-outcha-chair-and-dance pop rock.
Of everything my Ghentlefriends gave me, I find myself listening to the Age of the Understatement the most, well, at least top five. Why, pray tell? Well here we go.
As seems to be a big fat trend with indie Brit pop, the overtones come right out the sixties. Not being an expert in this genre or music at all really, I can only suggest reasons for this: the strings which actually sounds stringy as opposed to synthy, the occasional electric organ and tambourine, those Beatle-y ahs and an echoing, scratchiness to the vocals (surely there's an actual word for that quality). And the drama, o lord, it's glorious. When I listen to music, I tend to pay attention to the sounds first, then the words, and one great thing about this album is the two are so well suited to each other, you hear lust, longing, heartache, and angst whether your ears guides you to the instruments or the lyrics.
The title track captivates immediately. Chugging drums underlie a larger, urgent mix of electric guitar, strings, and is that a horn section frosting the tips of this song? Whatever torrents of instrumental and lyrical angst build throughout "The Age of the Understatement," those outlaw, horse-chase drums keep charging along. Cinematic: there's an adjective for this song, and it sets the tone for the whole album.
The album takes an slightly optimistic turn after the first few tracks, with covers of of Billy Fury's "Wondrous Place" and David Bowie's "In the Heat of the Morning" (I had to look that up on wikipedia. I WISH I had that kind of familiarity with Brit pop). But after tipping their hats to their influences, The Puppets continue with tortured, spiteful separation anxiety fire crackers of songs, interspersed among quieter, but still pained melodies. And sometimes in the same song. "Separate and Ever Deadly" revisits the driving drums of the title track, and "Only the Truth," "Black Plant," and "In My Room" could easily find themselves in a spy movie. In fact, I found myself thinking of James Bond more than once as I listened to The Age of the Understatement on repeat. I recommend "I Don't Like You Anymore" to anyone going through a break up, or anyone who has, or well, anyone really. The last two tracks, "Meeting Place" and "The Time Has Come Again," bring the energy level down, but conclude the album on an appropriately forlorn note.
All in all, a fantastic album that balances perfectly woe-is-me-I-hate-you-but-I-would-take-you-back melodrama and get-up-outcha-chair-and-dance pop rock.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Connect the Zot!s: Scott McCloud's Zot!: The Complete Black and White Collection
So I've been in and out of town the past couple weeks, which means I've spent quite a bit of time on airplanes. One might think this would allow hours and hours of time to catch up on my reading, but one would be wrong: typically, I have a hard time reading for more than 30 or so minutes on a plane. After the drink service, all I want to do is stare at the back of the seat in front of me and try not to look at the time. Thank god for ipods, now I can at least listen to music while I slowly go bored out of my skull. I say 'typically' because every now and then (I fall apart! And I need you now tonight! ... whoa, Nicki French, where did you come from?) I'm able to concentrate on an exceptionally good book for the better part of a flight. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was one of these. And so was Scott McCloud's mega trade of Zot! 1987- 1991: The Complete Black and White Collection, which brings me to today's review.
Zot! follows the title character, a teenage superhero from a Utopian Earth in an alternate dimension, as he fights criminal masterminds in his world and interacts with his pals from ours. The first half-ish of the trade, "Heroes and Villains" focuses on superhero-y exploits and neato techy gadgets and places, while the second part, "Earth Stories," is more concerned with the characters and their backgrounds and stories. As an added bonus, McCloud includes a long introduction and commentaries after each story arc; these insights into the stories and glimpses into McCloud's life as he wrote them were hands down one of my favorite things about the book. I might be biased, because I, like scores of comic geeks around the globe, am Scott McCloud's number one fan (at least in the top 100?), so the biographical aspects of his stories are a real treat. Even for readers not familiar with his opus, the guy's just accessible and really funny. His prose reads like he's talking to you; it's better than a lot of his characters' dialogue. Now, if he had taken a page from Understanding/ Reinventing/ Making Comics and written his commentary in comic form- hm, that may have actually been too much... well, probably not.
The comics of "Heroes and Villains", like I said, mostly tell stories of Zot's adventures in his own dimension with his not-girlfriend Jenny (from our earth), her brother Butch (also a chimpanzee, depending on which dimension he's in), his Renaissance man uncle Max, and a handful of other not terribly developed friends and machines. There's some pretty good witty banter here and there, and some of the themes that come up with the villains invite further thought. In his commentaries, McCloud actually talks a bit about what ideas each of his villains represents, and really, I think the bad guys are the most interesting characters. 9Jack9 and Zybox bring up the subjectivity of morality- always a fun topic- and have probably some of the coolest names in the history of bad guy monikers. Dekko's perception of the world allows for some really neato visual possibilities- just one of the places where you can see McCloud's ideas from Understanding Comics coming into play. All in all, the visual aspect of "Heroes and Villains" is this section's strength- the settings and splash pages, all the neat futuristic gadgets and spaces on Zot's world, the villains, it's all great to look at. The story-telling is fun, but not outstanding, and the characters don't get much treatment as such. Truth be told, the promise of the next section to develop them kept me going.
And "Earth Stories" delivered. In this section, Zot gets trapped on Jenny's world (that is, ours), and so we get to follow the adventures of her friends, none of which are super-powered or fantastical. They're just kids in high school with angst and problems, and they happen to hang out with flight capable, visibility-optional Zot. See? Relatable! Pretty much each issue is told from a different character's point of view, giving the reader a peek into their lives, which mostly revolve around fears, insecurities, and self-delusion. Whoo drama! Even visually, McCloud gets a little more experimental in this second section. The two award winning issues- "Normal" and "The Conversation" deserve every bit of the praise they got. Within a story arc that takes homosexuality and tolerance as its main conflict, "Normal" tells the story of Jenny's friend Terry coming to terms with her own sexuality. Here, the story really grabbed me, and it took no time for me to get emotionally invested in Terry. And if Zot's trademark inherent goodness was a bit over the top in the previous section, in "Normal," I couldn't help loving him for it. The ending is a bit of a heart fuck (if I can invent a phrase), but it's glorious. "The Conversation" focuses on a story line that had been in the back of my mind from the onset- do, uh, Zot and Jenny ever get it on? The issue takes place over the span of a couple minutes, maybe ten, where Zot broaches the subject, questions are answered, and awkwardness ensues. McCloud NAILS this conversation, capturing the discomfort, hesitance, and honesty of the characters flawlessly in empty speech balloons, slow pacing (moment to moment transitions...!), and their gestures. He says in his commentary that capturing human "poses and expressions" was never his strong suit, but I think he's really outdone himself here. The final issue, "The Great Escape," was also stunning: McCloud begins by focusing on a character per page, then per half page, until finally, we're back to a more or less non-character specific perspective, where the story arc of Zot's stint on our Earth concludes. The issue becomes an apology for fiction, which really impressed me; it was a great way to end the book, in both the contexts of the fantastical tales of the "Heroes and Villains" as well as the character driven "Earth Stories."
I'd recommend the complete Zot! to any McCloud fans, for the commentary if nothing else. I know I'm singing the tune of all the reviews I've read, which I hate doing, but: "Earth Stories," look, everyone, just track them down and read them. Also there is this, which I haven't read yet, since I'm still all googly over "Earth Stories." That might have to wait until next week.
Zot! follows the title character, a teenage superhero from a Utopian Earth in an alternate dimension, as he fights criminal masterminds in his world and interacts with his pals from ours. The first half-ish of the trade, "Heroes and Villains" focuses on superhero-y exploits and neato techy gadgets and places, while the second part, "Earth Stories," is more concerned with the characters and their backgrounds and stories. As an added bonus, McCloud includes a long introduction and commentaries after each story arc; these insights into the stories and glimpses into McCloud's life as he wrote them were hands down one of my favorite things about the book. I might be biased, because I, like scores of comic geeks around the globe, am Scott McCloud's number one fan (at least in the top 100?), so the biographical aspects of his stories are a real treat. Even for readers not familiar with his opus, the guy's just accessible and really funny. His prose reads like he's talking to you; it's better than a lot of his characters' dialogue. Now, if he had taken a page from Understanding/ Reinventing/ Making Comics and written his commentary in comic form- hm, that may have actually been too much... well, probably not.
The comics of "Heroes and Villains", like I said, mostly tell stories of Zot's adventures in his own dimension with his not-girlfriend Jenny (from our earth), her brother Butch (also a chimpanzee, depending on which dimension he's in), his Renaissance man uncle Max, and a handful of other not terribly developed friends and machines. There's some pretty good witty banter here and there, and some of the themes that come up with the villains invite further thought. In his commentaries, McCloud actually talks a bit about what ideas each of his villains represents, and really, I think the bad guys are the most interesting characters. 9Jack9 and Zybox bring up the subjectivity of morality- always a fun topic- and have probably some of the coolest names in the history of bad guy monikers. Dekko's perception of the world allows for some really neato visual possibilities- just one of the places where you can see McCloud's ideas from Understanding Comics coming into play. All in all, the visual aspect of "Heroes and Villains" is this section's strength- the settings and splash pages, all the neat futuristic gadgets and spaces on Zot's world, the villains, it's all great to look at. The story-telling is fun, but not outstanding, and the characters don't get much treatment as such. Truth be told, the promise of the next section to develop them kept me going.
And "Earth Stories" delivered. In this section, Zot gets trapped on Jenny's world (that is, ours), and so we get to follow the adventures of her friends, none of which are super-powered or fantastical. They're just kids in high school with angst and problems, and they happen to hang out with flight capable, visibility-optional Zot. See? Relatable! Pretty much each issue is told from a different character's point of view, giving the reader a peek into their lives, which mostly revolve around fears, insecurities, and self-delusion. Whoo drama! Even visually, McCloud gets a little more experimental in this second section. The two award winning issues- "Normal" and "The Conversation" deserve every bit of the praise they got. Within a story arc that takes homosexuality and tolerance as its main conflict, "Normal" tells the story of Jenny's friend Terry coming to terms with her own sexuality. Here, the story really grabbed me, and it took no time for me to get emotionally invested in Terry. And if Zot's trademark inherent goodness was a bit over the top in the previous section, in "Normal," I couldn't help loving him for it. The ending is a bit of a heart fuck (if I can invent a phrase), but it's glorious. "The Conversation" focuses on a story line that had been in the back of my mind from the onset- do, uh, Zot and Jenny ever get it on? The issue takes place over the span of a couple minutes, maybe ten, where Zot broaches the subject, questions are answered, and awkwardness ensues. McCloud NAILS this conversation, capturing the discomfort, hesitance, and honesty of the characters flawlessly in empty speech balloons, slow pacing (moment to moment transitions...!), and their gestures. He says in his commentary that capturing human "poses and expressions" was never his strong suit, but I think he's really outdone himself here. The final issue, "The Great Escape," was also stunning: McCloud begins by focusing on a character per page, then per half page, until finally, we're back to a more or less non-character specific perspective, where the story arc of Zot's stint on our Earth concludes. The issue becomes an apology for fiction, which really impressed me; it was a great way to end the book, in both the contexts of the fantastical tales of the "Heroes and Villains" as well as the character driven "Earth Stories."
I'd recommend the complete Zot! to any McCloud fans, for the commentary if nothing else. I know I'm singing the tune of all the reviews I've read, which I hate doing, but: "Earth Stories," look, everyone, just track them down and read them. Also there is this, which I haven't read yet, since I'm still all googly over "Earth Stories." That might have to wait until next week.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Big City: The Complete Oblivion City Saga, now with tangents!
Over the past couple months, I've been playing catch up with all the graphic novels one might consider classics, and it has been immensely groovy. However, I didn't want to neglect all the unheard of, independent, weird comics you only pick up by chance in used book stores and at the library. Andy Garcia's Oblivion City strip, collected into the trade Big City: the Complete Oblivion City Saga is one of those wacky reads. By the way, not Andy Garcia the actor (which made finding a link for this book nigh impossible. ).
What I liked off the bat was the total weirdness of Garcia's stories and the unpolished, uneven, black and white way he renders them. Stylistically, they're nowhere near the anxious, insomniac doom that Jhonen Vazquez so lovingly inks into his work (same publisher by the way. Hmmm), but I think because of the silliness in both, a comparison between the two drawing styles isn't out of the question. Or maybe the silliness should be only point of comparison and we'll leave visual analysis to the art critics.
Moving on. Reading Oblivion City was kind of like being back in the early 90s, watching MTV's Oddities as a kid, which, for me, had an enormous impact on what I would later think about popular culture, art, and cool. I didn't completely comprehend everything that was going on in these cartoons, and I was even a little creeped out by them, but I felt an overwhelming attraction to them and I knew then, beyond a shade of doubt, that they embodied awesome. In fact, Oddities still retains an aura of such untouchable neat that even wikipedia is speechless. But I'm not talking about Oddities (maybe I should go on rant later on... another one). I'm talking about Oblivion City. Like I said, the strip exemplifies weird for weird's sake, and it came out in the early 90s, so right around when weird for itself was cool, but not trendy yet. Like those fucking obnoxious Quizno's commercials. The ones with the stupid singing hamster things... remember those? They were short lived, thankfully.
Anyway even though at times, Oblivion City is over the top silly or disgusting or makes no sense at all, that overall spirit of good clean (well, sort of) weird fun is undeniable.
Near the end of the trade, Garcia starts getting a little more experimental with his layouts and that fourth wall, if I can borrow a term from the theatre (when it's spelled like that, you know you can read it in a British accent). This is one of the reasons I'm hooked on trades rather than individual issues (I'm helping to kill the comic book. I know, I know.): you can really get a feel for the development of the artist when you can look at a few years of his work in one place. I suppose you could do this with individual issues if you actually had them all, but how likely is that with this book? Anyway, I have little hope that I'll ever stumble across more of Garcia's Oblivion City- related series (Seth Throb Underground Artist, Sizzle Theater, Megazzar Dude), but I do want to see what the guy ended up doing after laying the groundwork in this initial book.
What I liked off the bat was the total weirdness of Garcia's stories and the unpolished, uneven, black and white way he renders them. Stylistically, they're nowhere near the anxious, insomniac doom that Jhonen Vazquez so lovingly inks into his work (same publisher by the way. Hmmm), but I think because of the silliness in both, a comparison between the two drawing styles isn't out of the question. Or maybe the silliness should be only point of comparison and we'll leave visual analysis to the art critics.
Moving on. Reading Oblivion City was kind of like being back in the early 90s, watching MTV's Oddities as a kid, which, for me, had an enormous impact on what I would later think about popular culture, art, and cool. I didn't completely comprehend everything that was going on in these cartoons, and I was even a little creeped out by them, but I felt an overwhelming attraction to them and I knew then, beyond a shade of doubt, that they embodied awesome. In fact, Oddities still retains an aura of such untouchable neat that even wikipedia is speechless. But I'm not talking about Oddities (maybe I should go on rant later on... another one). I'm talking about Oblivion City. Like I said, the strip exemplifies weird for weird's sake, and it came out in the early 90s, so right around when weird for itself was cool, but not trendy yet. Like those fucking obnoxious Quizno's commercials. The ones with the stupid singing hamster things... remember those? They were short lived, thankfully.
Anyway even though at times, Oblivion City is over the top silly or disgusting or makes no sense at all, that overall spirit of good clean (well, sort of) weird fun is undeniable.
Near the end of the trade, Garcia starts getting a little more experimental with his layouts and that fourth wall, if I can borrow a term from the theatre (when it's spelled like that, you know you can read it in a British accent). This is one of the reasons I'm hooked on trades rather than individual issues (I'm helping to kill the comic book. I know, I know.): you can really get a feel for the development of the artist when you can look at a few years of his work in one place. I suppose you could do this with individual issues if you actually had them all, but how likely is that with this book? Anyway, I have little hope that I'll ever stumble across more of Garcia's Oblivion City- related series (Seth Throb Underground Artist, Sizzle Theater, Megazzar Dude), but I do want to see what the guy ended up doing after laying the groundwork in this initial book.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Rocking in Dallas with Electric 6
At the moment, I'm living about two blocks away from one of my favorite live music venues in my home town- the Granada Theater. Last night, I went to see a show there, and since I haven't tried my hand at a music review here, that's what I'm doing today. Here we go. Take it away.
The Lions from Austin Texas were the first band of the night, with mane-ish locks that represented their name well. They played a rather hard rocking set, and while I don't often listen to such music, I have to admit that they sounded amazing: they were tight and on top of their songs from start to finish, sounding very professional. And while only a few people in the crowd mustered more enthusiasm than headed bobbing, the band's energy was way up there; either they were using this opportunity to practice for when they're filling stadiums, or they love rocking that much. As a closet optimist, I'm tending toward the latter. So while my personal taste won't propel me toward buying their albums any time soon, props to the Lions for exemplifying love for the rock.
After a bathroom break and a beer run, it was time for the next group, Local H. Once more, their sound is quite a bit harder than most music I find myself listening to, but the quality of their set was undeniable. First of all, Local H is two guys, a drummer and a really angry guitarist/ vocalist. And I know they had the aid of a probably killer sound system, but damn, they made a lot of noise! In the sense that they sounded like more than two guys, not that they were frivolously loud. Like their shaggy pals, Local H's energy was through the roof, and this time, more of the audience was up there with them. I was especially impressed that they skipped "Bound for the Floor", their single that probably got the most radio exposure: way to deflect expectations, dudes. I was a little disappointed that they didn't play more tracks from that album, As Good As Dead; I actually dig "Lovey Dovey" and "Eddie Vedder" quite a bit. However, it became pretty clear that these mellower tracks, while awesomely moody and disgruntled, may not have fit in with the rest of the high energy rants of the set list. Over all, had there been more flannel and less talk of the last election, I'd have sworn I was back in the mid nineties, and I mean that in the best possible way.
Another beer and a shuffle up to the front of the crowd later and I was ready for the headliners, Electric 6, the band I was most excited about seeing. Having heard only a smattering of their songs, I had assured myself that they would put on a dynamite show, and ya know, I was right. Frontman (or is he more than a man...?) Dick Valentine charged onto the stage in a flashy red cape (no, really, "flashy" was spelled out in sequins) and quickly tore it off to reveal... ANOTHER CAPE! You had me at flashy, Dick. They rocked boisterously through their set, spouting Polyphonic Spree jokes and other merry tomfoolery, pausing only to let a gentleman to propose to his girlfriend (aww!... some!) and to allow for an encore. They played their most famous songs Danger! High Voltage and Gay Bar, along with older fan favorites and new material, keeping the audience jamming and bouncing around all the way to their parting shot, Dance Commander. Except for the one-in-every-crowd kid who did NOT jump at shows (...emo?). She of course happened to stand right in front of me, so I had about six inches of space between her and the wall in which to boogie. But I managed. Ya know, for the rock.
While Electric 6's silly, dance inspiring tunes diverged a bit from the harsher, mosh-ier selections of the Lions and Local H, there could've been no doubt by the end of the show that a passion for rocking spurs each each of them (and their fans) ever onward.
The Lions from Austin Texas were the first band of the night, with mane-ish locks that represented their name well. They played a rather hard rocking set, and while I don't often listen to such music, I have to admit that they sounded amazing: they were tight and on top of their songs from start to finish, sounding very professional. And while only a few people in the crowd mustered more enthusiasm than headed bobbing, the band's energy was way up there; either they were using this opportunity to practice for when they're filling stadiums, or they love rocking that much. As a closet optimist, I'm tending toward the latter. So while my personal taste won't propel me toward buying their albums any time soon, props to the Lions for exemplifying love for the rock.
After a bathroom break and a beer run, it was time for the next group, Local H. Once more, their sound is quite a bit harder than most music I find myself listening to, but the quality of their set was undeniable. First of all, Local H is two guys, a drummer and a really angry guitarist/ vocalist. And I know they had the aid of a probably killer sound system, but damn, they made a lot of noise! In the sense that they sounded like more than two guys, not that they were frivolously loud. Like their shaggy pals, Local H's energy was through the roof, and this time, more of the audience was up there with them. I was especially impressed that they skipped "Bound for the Floor", their single that probably got the most radio exposure: way to deflect expectations, dudes. I was a little disappointed that they didn't play more tracks from that album, As Good As Dead; I actually dig "Lovey Dovey" and "Eddie Vedder" quite a bit. However, it became pretty clear that these mellower tracks, while awesomely moody and disgruntled, may not have fit in with the rest of the high energy rants of the set list. Over all, had there been more flannel and less talk of the last election, I'd have sworn I was back in the mid nineties, and I mean that in the best possible way.
Another beer and a shuffle up to the front of the crowd later and I was ready for the headliners, Electric 6, the band I was most excited about seeing. Having heard only a smattering of their songs, I had assured myself that they would put on a dynamite show, and ya know, I was right. Frontman (or is he more than a man...?) Dick Valentine charged onto the stage in a flashy red cape (no, really, "flashy" was spelled out in sequins) and quickly tore it off to reveal... ANOTHER CAPE! You had me at flashy, Dick. They rocked boisterously through their set, spouting Polyphonic Spree jokes and other merry tomfoolery, pausing only to let a gentleman to propose to his girlfriend (aww!... some!) and to allow for an encore. They played their most famous songs Danger! High Voltage and Gay Bar, along with older fan favorites and new material, keeping the audience jamming and bouncing around all the way to their parting shot, Dance Commander. Except for the one-in-every-crowd kid who did NOT jump at shows (...emo?). She of course happened to stand right in front of me, so I had about six inches of space between her and the wall in which to boogie. But I managed. Ya know, for the rock.
While Electric 6's silly, dance inspiring tunes diverged a bit from the harsher, mosh-ier selections of the Lions and Local H, there could've been no doubt by the end of the show that a passion for rocking spurs each each of them (and their fans) ever onward.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
A brief and wondrous review of Oscar Wao
This past summer, one of good friends was getting after me constantly- well, maybe not CONSTANTLY, but on a regular basis- to read Junot Diaz's The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. After selling some books in September, I had a bit of store credit at the glorious Montclair Book Center, so I picked up a copy of Oscar Wao (for like 12 bucks. Glorious, I tell you). Once I started actually reading it, a few weeks later, I found that it was, in fact, nigh impossible to put down.
Now, with my buddy's enthusiasm for the book, the 'Pulitzer Prize winner' sticker on its cover, and popular and critical acclaim from everywhere the populous and critics gather to do their acclaiming, I knew at the onset that I was supposed to like this piece. And I did, don't get me wrong. It's not the book's fault that its reputation precedes it (well, I guess that's arguable), and that it's staggeringly easy to become saturated with information about stuff like books, movies, etc. before giving them a glance yourself (she said before proceeding with her own review...). It's just an aspect of increasingly democratic access to information I spose. Anyway.
I'll start at the end (a very good place to start): I didn't emerge transformed from reading Oscar Wao, as I was half expecting. No doubt, Diaz crafted a fantastic story that informed, entertained, and made the pages fly at an alarming rate; but it wasn't one of those books that forces you to sit down and take a breath to re-align yourself with reality when you're done (if you're one of those people who reads standing up...).
But like I said, I enjoyed reading it: the geek references that have made the tale of the 'ghetto nerd' so famous are indeed pretty sweet. First, because it's great fun for the reader who recognizes them, and second, almost conversely, because it reminds us what a nerd is. Over the past couple years, pop-sci-fi shows, super hero comics and movies, and the fantasy genre have gotten fairly popular, even, dare I say it, trendy (there's a possibility I'm biased here). Knowing the Fantastic Four's encyclopedia of back story or intense familiarity with the geography of Middle Earth have become things to show off. To girls even. Hot ones. The rise of geek chic (the fact that that term even exists...) signals that the established lines between cool and dork are blurring. And yay for that. But on the other hand, we can't ignore the reality that these badges of nerdly honor are just that- badges- and that nerd PEOPLE still exist, catch flack, don't have friends, basically, are trapped in a state of junior high. Oscar Wao reminds us that to be a nerd, a nerd in the purest sense of the word, is not cool. It sucks. And no amount of fandom or knowledge or talent can take away or add to one's core nature, be that smokin' awesome, hopelessly clueless, or a moderation between the two.
Another prominent feature of Wao, the incorporation of Spanish slang, seemed to be an issue of non-contention in the reviews I encountered; that is, I've seen plenty of posts asking 'Did the Spanglish ever become a problem for non-Spanish speakers?' to which NO one replied in the affirmative. I don't know if Diaz made this choice to inspire research into the language or make it difficult for non Spanglophones or what, but I LOVED the way he fused the Spanish and English together. I've spent some pretty significant chunks of my life in Italy, and I found myself doing the same thing, borrowing words from one language to use in the other or beginning a sentence in one language e finirla con l'altra. On language- I get the impression that, especially in the US where bilingualism is rarer than it should be (this is changing though I think), we forget that language doesn't exist for itself. It's a tool we use to communicate with each other. So, stuff like perfect grammar (which I admit, I'm a fan of. Not totally though, you watch where I put that preposition), an impressive vocabulary, a knowledge of the parts of speech- all of this is secondary to getting an idea from your head to some one else's. And if you have to break rules, use only 'to be' verbs, or cross into other languages to that, congratulations, you're reaching a fellow human. And that is the point! So, another high five for Diaz- he does a masterful job of using the languages at his disposal to communicate. Hm, maybe that's part of why he got such mega props...
If I haven't already made this abundantly clear: the narrative of Wao rocks, it's such a fun read. Well, except for all the atrocity and violence... engaging, it's an ENGAGING read. The shifting point of view and nebulous voice of the narrator was, I thought, really fresh, and now that I'm writing this, I'm thinking I might add 'Oscar Who?: Narration in Oscar Wao' to my list of papers to write. And, I learned more about the Dominican Republic here than I have in any classroom or conversation. And knowledge is power, folks (but it can't make you cool).
Now, with my buddy's enthusiasm for the book, the 'Pulitzer Prize winner' sticker on its cover, and popular and critical acclaim from everywhere the populous and critics gather to do their acclaiming, I knew at the onset that I was supposed to like this piece. And I did, don't get me wrong. It's not the book's fault that its reputation precedes it (well, I guess that's arguable), and that it's staggeringly easy to become saturated with information about stuff like books, movies, etc. before giving them a glance yourself (she said before proceeding with her own review...). It's just an aspect of increasingly democratic access to information I spose. Anyway.
I'll start at the end (a very good place to start): I didn't emerge transformed from reading Oscar Wao, as I was half expecting. No doubt, Diaz crafted a fantastic story that informed, entertained, and made the pages fly at an alarming rate; but it wasn't one of those books that forces you to sit down and take a breath to re-align yourself with reality when you're done (if you're one of those people who reads standing up...).
But like I said, I enjoyed reading it: the geek references that have made the tale of the 'ghetto nerd' so famous are indeed pretty sweet. First, because it's great fun for the reader who recognizes them, and second, almost conversely, because it reminds us what a nerd is. Over the past couple years, pop-sci-fi shows, super hero comics and movies, and the fantasy genre have gotten fairly popular, even, dare I say it, trendy (there's a possibility I'm biased here). Knowing the Fantastic Four's encyclopedia of back story or intense familiarity with the geography of Middle Earth have become things to show off. To girls even. Hot ones. The rise of geek chic (the fact that that term even exists...) signals that the established lines between cool and dork are blurring. And yay for that. But on the other hand, we can't ignore the reality that these badges of nerdly honor are just that- badges- and that nerd PEOPLE still exist, catch flack, don't have friends, basically, are trapped in a state of junior high. Oscar Wao reminds us that to be a nerd, a nerd in the purest sense of the word, is not cool. It sucks. And no amount of fandom or knowledge or talent can take away or add to one's core nature, be that smokin' awesome, hopelessly clueless, or a moderation between the two.
Another prominent feature of Wao, the incorporation of Spanish slang, seemed to be an issue of non-contention in the reviews I encountered; that is, I've seen plenty of posts asking 'Did the Spanglish ever become a problem for non-Spanish speakers?' to which NO one replied in the affirmative. I don't know if Diaz made this choice to inspire research into the language or make it difficult for non Spanglophones or what, but I LOVED the way he fused the Spanish and English together. I've spent some pretty significant chunks of my life in Italy, and I found myself doing the same thing, borrowing words from one language to use in the other or beginning a sentence in one language e finirla con l'altra. On language- I get the impression that, especially in the US where bilingualism is rarer than it should be (this is changing though I think), we forget that language doesn't exist for itself. It's a tool we use to communicate with each other. So, stuff like perfect grammar (which I admit, I'm a fan of. Not totally though, you watch where I put that preposition), an impressive vocabulary, a knowledge of the parts of speech- all of this is secondary to getting an idea from your head to some one else's. And if you have to break rules, use only 'to be' verbs, or cross into other languages to that, congratulations, you're reaching a fellow human. And that is the point! So, another high five for Diaz- he does a masterful job of using the languages at his disposal to communicate. Hm, maybe that's part of why he got such mega props...
If I haven't already made this abundantly clear: the narrative of Wao rocks, it's such a fun read. Well, except for all the atrocity and violence... engaging, it's an ENGAGING read. The shifting point of view and nebulous voice of the narrator was, I thought, really fresh, and now that I'm writing this, I'm thinking I might add 'Oscar Who?: Narration in Oscar Wao' to my list of papers to write. And, I learned more about the Dominican Republic here than I have in any classroom or conversation. And knowledge is power, folks (but it can't make you cool).
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puff: review for the breakasts of champion
I've been chipping away at Chuck Klosterman's Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs: a Low Culture Manifesto and I finished it a couple days ago, sort of unfortunately, because it was really fucking hilarious. Thanks to the ever provident youtube, I was watching some of his interviews and Q&As, and I figured out what the deal is: he writes like he speaks or he speaks like he writes, and either way, one translates so flawlessly to the other that you get this feeling you're having a conversation. He's a funny guy, and the conversation is his medium: what makes his observations, frustration, and experiences so damn entertaining is that he could be telling you, the reader, all this like you were old pals or acquaintances or just strangers shooting the shit in line waiting for coffee. His personality- or one he projects, which would be pretty close to the real thing, I think it's safe to assume- makes up his writings as much as, if not more than, his prose and his musings.
Klosterman's collection of essays does come with its hitches, for example, the layout of the chapters supposedly resembles a CD track listing, adding nothing to the work as a whole. Since most fans and readers, I assume, know him as a popular culture and music critic, there's continuity between this chapter set up and the author's public persona (as opposed to his private persona...?), which I guess could be relevant. Sort of. In any case, it's not a bad idea, but I think it's wasted here.
Namely because the essays and the interstitial commentaries (that was my freebie, no more stupid crossover terms from unrelated fields) hold themselves up fine. I don't always agree with Klosterman's conclusions and sometimes he does come off as kind of dick, but he's obviously not writing this stuff with hopes of winning Mr. Happy Fluffy Bunny of the Year. And overall, he does make some fantastically relevant and entertaining observations revolving around TV, rock bands, Sims, relationships, the sub culture of journalism, and the preoccupations that seem to run underneath current-ish popular culture. And it's funny. I laughed out loud reading this book more than any other since Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job, which slayed me until about three quarters of the way through. It disappoints one so when that happens; when a book rocks until ALMOST the end. Freedom from the constraints of keeping a good plot going is, it turns out, something collections of non-fiction essays have going for them, which brings me back to Klosterman (aha, that sounded like a tangent for a second, didn't it?).
It's tempting to just prattle on about my favorite bits of Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs (why Pam Anderson and Michael Jordan can never be together; 23 hypothetical questions; the oddly frightening social implications of youth soccer; the uncoolness of academic conferences on pop culture- I've noticed this myself; Internet porn; you see why I have to resist this temptation? I might as well put an annotated table of contents here). But I won't (any more), and instead, recommend this one for a good laugh, a conversation piece, and a strategy guide for social navigation.
Klosterman's collection of essays does come with its hitches, for example, the layout of the chapters supposedly resembles a CD track listing, adding nothing to the work as a whole. Since most fans and readers, I assume, know him as a popular culture and music critic, there's continuity between this chapter set up and the author's public persona (as opposed to his private persona...?), which I guess could be relevant. Sort of. In any case, it's not a bad idea, but I think it's wasted here.
Namely because the essays and the interstitial commentaries (that was my freebie, no more stupid crossover terms from unrelated fields) hold themselves up fine. I don't always agree with Klosterman's conclusions and sometimes he does come off as kind of dick, but he's obviously not writing this stuff with hopes of winning Mr. Happy Fluffy Bunny of the Year. And overall, he does make some fantastically relevant and entertaining observations revolving around TV, rock bands, Sims, relationships, the sub culture of journalism, and the preoccupations that seem to run underneath current-ish popular culture. And it's funny. I laughed out loud reading this book more than any other since Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job, which slayed me until about three quarters of the way through. It disappoints one so when that happens; when a book rocks until ALMOST the end. Freedom from the constraints of keeping a good plot going is, it turns out, something collections of non-fiction essays have going for them, which brings me back to Klosterman (aha, that sounded like a tangent for a second, didn't it?).
It's tempting to just prattle on about my favorite bits of Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs (why Pam Anderson and Michael Jordan can never be together; 23 hypothetical questions; the oddly frightening social implications of youth soccer; the uncoolness of academic conferences on pop culture- I've noticed this myself; Internet porn; you see why I have to resist this temptation? I might as well put an annotated table of contents here). But I won't (any more), and instead, recommend this one for a good laugh, a conversation piece, and a strategy guide for social navigation.
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