Alice Cooper is responsible for that.
Come to think of it, Alice is pretty much responsible for everything. KISS, Slipknot, Marilyn Manson, Sex Pistols, The Cramps, GWAR, Green Jelly, Rob Zombie, Genitorturers, Goth music, grunge, the immediate connection between rock music fans and horror movie fans, not to mention any element of theatricality in a live rock stage show. Alice did it before anyone even thought of ripping it off.
It's easy to just write him off as a nostalgia act, but, honestly, the man is no less of a nostalgia act than The Stones or Van Halen. He knows exactly what the fans want and he makes sure we get it. He doesn't try too hard to seem relevant by playing an hour of new songs we never heard. He doesn't talk at all until the last song of the night. He doesn't have time, the show must go on. The band never misses a beat, He never forgets a lyric. He never breaks character. If he had a bad day on the links and has decided to phone it in tonight, you cannot tell. He is part of a dying breed...He is a true entertainer.
Needless to say, this might be why he has yet to be "legitimized" by any Hall Of Fame or awards shows who give out lifetime achievements. It ultimately does not matter. Those of us who get it will continue to do so until he's had enough and retires. Those who never got it can take solace in their Supertramp records.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
THERE WILL BE BLOOD....
I am no longer a geek-con virgin.
This weekend, Fangoria magazine, the holy bible of horror movie fans, set up their annual Trinity Of Terrors convention at The Palms Hotel Casino in Vegas. My pal asked me to come along with him and, after inspecting their website, I could not refuse.
I have been sheepish over the years about going to conventions celebrating things I am into. Never once went to a convention for a music or movie genre I loved simply because I was convinced that I was just way too cool for school. Maybe I was, maybe I really wasn't. I guess I always thought of that Groucho Marx line, I would never be part of any club that had me as a member.
After attending this Fangoria exhibition, I gotta admit it was awesome. It was nowhere nearly as geeky and weird as I had envisioned. On the surface, I always thought to myself, "God! Those poor people who have to sit there and try to push autographs for a few bucks and chatter with crazed fans like me all day."
As it turns out, those poor people really seem to enjoy themselves. George Takei would always say on Howard Stern that he meets great people at Star Trek conventions and, I realize now, he means it. And, as a fan, you get caught up in bumping into these easily recognizable faces. I did, anyway.
"Oooh..Adrienne Barbeau...Hey!! David Naughton from American Werewolf..Malakai from Children Of The Corn!!" Then you turn the occasional corner and stop in your tracks. "Holy Shit...It's Malcolm Fucking McDowell!!! Bill Moseley!! Tom Savini!!!!" You see certain people and realize they kind of shaped your tastes as a young movie fan, and you get all geeky and starstruck. Their resumes hit you like a freight train. A Clockwork Orange, Texas Chainsaw 2, Dawn Of The Dead, Caligula, Devil's Rejects, Creepshow.
I only had time to go on Friday. John Waters was scheduled to appear Saturday. It would have meant the world to tell him thanks for making my teen years funnier because of "Pink Flamingos" or "Desperate Living".
I did, however, wait around to get a minute with Richard Christy. For those who don't know him, Richard spent years playing drums for bands like Death and Iced Earth before getting a co-producer job on Howard Stern. He primarily does prank phone calls and pre-taped skits, some of which are the funniest things I've ever heard on radio. Richard was awesome and really seemed to get a kick out of what a fan I was. We had a few good laughs and he was kind enough to give me an autograph (for free!) for my girlfriend, who is also a big fan.
Needless to say, I can't wait for the next convention to hit town so I can take my inner geek out for a walk again soon.
This weekend, Fangoria magazine, the holy bible of horror movie fans, set up their annual Trinity Of Terrors convention at The Palms Hotel Casino in Vegas. My pal asked me to come along with him and, after inspecting their website, I could not refuse.
I have been sheepish over the years about going to conventions celebrating things I am into. Never once went to a convention for a music or movie genre I loved simply because I was convinced that I was just way too cool for school. Maybe I was, maybe I really wasn't. I guess I always thought of that Groucho Marx line, I would never be part of any club that had me as a member.
After attending this Fangoria exhibition, I gotta admit it was awesome. It was nowhere nearly as geeky and weird as I had envisioned. On the surface, I always thought to myself, "God! Those poor people who have to sit there and try to push autographs for a few bucks and chatter with crazed fans like me all day."
As it turns out, those poor people really seem to enjoy themselves. George Takei would always say on Howard Stern that he meets great people at Star Trek conventions and, I realize now, he means it. And, as a fan, you get caught up in bumping into these easily recognizable faces. I did, anyway.
"Oooh..Adrienne Barbeau...Hey!! David Naughton from American Werewolf..Malakai from Children Of The Corn!!" Then you turn the occasional corner and stop in your tracks. "Holy Shit...It's Malcolm Fucking McDowell!!! Bill Moseley!! Tom Savini!!!!" You see certain people and realize they kind of shaped your tastes as a young movie fan, and you get all geeky and starstruck. Their resumes hit you like a freight train. A Clockwork Orange, Texas Chainsaw 2, Dawn Of The Dead, Caligula, Devil's Rejects, Creepshow.
I only had time to go on Friday. John Waters was scheduled to appear Saturday. It would have meant the world to tell him thanks for making my teen years funnier because of "Pink Flamingos" or "Desperate Living".
I did, however, wait around to get a minute with Richard Christy. For those who don't know him, Richard spent years playing drums for bands like Death and Iced Earth before getting a co-producer job on Howard Stern. He primarily does prank phone calls and pre-taped skits, some of which are the funniest things I've ever heard on radio. Richard was awesome and really seemed to get a kick out of what a fan I was. We had a few good laughs and he was kind enough to give me an autograph (for free!) for my girlfriend, who is also a big fan.
Needless to say, I can't wait for the next convention to hit town so I can take my inner geek out for a walk again soon.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
83 YEARS AGO TODAY....
Chuck Berry, the undisputed father of rock and roll guitar was born.
The man was responsible for everything.
John Lennon and Keith Richards would never have picked up guitars if not for this man.
He will still kick your ass onstage to this day.
I warned you....
The man was responsible for everything.
John Lennon and Keith Richards would never have picked up guitars if not for this man.
He will still kick your ass onstage to this day.
I warned you....
YOU WANTED THE BEST, YOU GOT SONIC BOOM INSTEAD!!!
Last week, the unthinkable happened.
After 12 years of incessant touring behind no new material, KISS released an all new studio record. And the fucker debuted at #2 on Billboard.
Unthinkable because I had completely given up hope on any new KISS songs in my lifetime. I figured that since Gene and Paul were still making big bank on playing the same setlists that worked for them since reforming the classic lineup in 1995, why mess with a sure thing? And besides, who in this day and age wants new KISS anyway? And could they even scrape up ten or twelve new songs worth recording?
I am happy to say "Sonic Boom" does not suck. It is far from being a return to the glory days of, say "Destroyer", "Love Gun", or even "Creatures Of The Night", but it is not an embarrassment on the level of say, "Crazy Nights" or "Music From The Elder" (which I personally have a soft spot for). It's not a major comeback in the "Death Magnetic" sense of the word, but it's not a "Chinese Democracy"-sized shit stain, either.
The plus side-- No outside songwriters. The eleven songs are all pretty short and to the point. The band actually sound like they were all in the studio together during recording. Every song has an element of classic KISS in one way or another. Catchy chorus, simplistic riffs, very simplistic lyrics.
The minus side-- As competent as Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer are on lead guitar and drums, there really is some kind of spark missing in the new equation. They just can't let it RAWK. Hell, I listen to them and yearn for the reckless abandon of the Eric Carr-Bruce Kulick period. After 35 years, there is no reason for KISS to sound professional and polished like The Eagles. It was never part of their appeal in the first place.
I wish after all these years I could explain why I still care about KISS. It's like if they catch you between the ages of 8 and 15, they put some kind of hook in you that never leaves. They still do things that make me say, "Oh...there is just no way I'll ever like them again" and somehow I end up liking them again.
They may no longer be the same band I fell in love with as a kid, yet I simply could not imagine what the hell my friends and I would talk about if they ended it all tomorrow.
Here they are on Letterman playing the lead off track, Modern Day Delilah. Gene and Dave together at the end of the song are priceless.
After 12 years of incessant touring behind no new material, KISS released an all new studio record. And the fucker debuted at #2 on Billboard.
Unthinkable because I had completely given up hope on any new KISS songs in my lifetime. I figured that since Gene and Paul were still making big bank on playing the same setlists that worked for them since reforming the classic lineup in 1995, why mess with a sure thing? And besides, who in this day and age wants new KISS anyway? And could they even scrape up ten or twelve new songs worth recording?
I am happy to say "Sonic Boom" does not suck. It is far from being a return to the glory days of, say "Destroyer", "Love Gun", or even "Creatures Of The Night", but it is not an embarrassment on the level of say, "Crazy Nights" or "Music From The Elder" (which I personally have a soft spot for). It's not a major comeback in the "Death Magnetic" sense of the word, but it's not a "Chinese Democracy"-sized shit stain, either.
The plus side-- No outside songwriters. The eleven songs are all pretty short and to the point. The band actually sound like they were all in the studio together during recording. Every song has an element of classic KISS in one way or another. Catchy chorus, simplistic riffs, very simplistic lyrics.
The minus side-- As competent as Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer are on lead guitar and drums, there really is some kind of spark missing in the new equation. They just can't let it RAWK. Hell, I listen to them and yearn for the reckless abandon of the Eric Carr-Bruce Kulick period. After 35 years, there is no reason for KISS to sound professional and polished like The Eagles. It was never part of their appeal in the first place.
I wish after all these years I could explain why I still care about KISS. It's like if they catch you between the ages of 8 and 15, they put some kind of hook in you that never leaves. They still do things that make me say, "Oh...there is just no way I'll ever like them again" and somehow I end up liking them again.
They may no longer be the same band I fell in love with as a kid, yet I simply could not imagine what the hell my friends and I would talk about if they ended it all tomorrow.
Here they are on Letterman playing the lead off track, Modern Day Delilah. Gene and Dave together at the end of the song are priceless.
Friday, October 16, 2009
LINDA MCCARTNEY SINGS!!!!
Okay, first of all, I am really sorry it took me this long to post. It has been an insane month. But when I get time, I got LOTS to write about.
This video jarred me back into posting:
Linda was the inspiration for some of the best songs ever written: Maybe I'm Amazed, My Love, Another Day to name a few. But, wow, was she unable to actually sing any of them.
This audio was isolated from Paul's performance of Hey Jude at Knebworth, UK in 1990.
I had heard of it for years until actually hearing it today. It lives up to its legend.
This video jarred me back into posting:
Linda was the inspiration for some of the best songs ever written: Maybe I'm Amazed, My Love, Another Day to name a few. But, wow, was she unable to actually sing any of them.
This audio was isolated from Paul's performance of Hey Jude at Knebworth, UK in 1990.
I had heard of it for years until actually hearing it today. It lives up to its legend.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
FIRST, YOU SHOCK THEM, THEN THEY PUT YOU IN A MUSEUM...
from www.blabbermouth.net
Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame LIVE
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Write a Review
Time Life proudly presents the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Live, a 9 DVD collection featuring rare, one-of-a-kind performances from the induction ceremonies of the Rock Hall Of Fame, shot during the last 24 years. You'll see the biggest names in rock 'n' roll perform in intimate settings, and jam in combinations not seen anywhere else. Additionally, each DVD features exclusive induction speeches by rock royalty, from heartfelt tributes to hilarious zingers. Plus, each DVD has over an hour of bonus material, including rare, behind-the-scenes material and rehersal footage. Some highlights include:
Bruce Springsteen and Bono share a microphone on U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."
The original 3 members of Cream take the stage for the first time in 25 years to play a 3 song set of the group's biggest hits.
Mick Jagger and Tina Turner perform a sultry duet of the Stones' "Honky Tonk Woman."
This is the first time ever these performances have been available on home video! With 125 exclusive performances, over 24 hours of classic rock entertainment, and over 9 hours of bonus material, the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Live is a comprehensive collection sure to exceed the expectations of any rock 'n' roll fan!
You can make jokes all you want about The Jonas Brothers, Britney Spears or Milli Vanilli. For my money, the single biggest joke ever pulled in the name of popular music continues to be The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. If you don't believe me, ask yourself this.
Who decides who gets inducted and who gets left out? Where does the money come from to put on these big ceremonies every year? Why did VH1 Classic start airing these shows only five years ago? How come they are just as tepid and cumbersome as any other awards telecast? Where is that 120 dollars going that I shelled out for this DVD box set?
And, of course, the most obvious one: How the fuck did someone decide that The Pretenders and Elvis Costello had a greater effect on the course of rock and roll than, say, The Stooges or The MC5?
How does Metallica manage to be the first heavy metal band inducted before Motorhead, Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy?
Today, the Clown College, excuse me, Hall Of Fame announced their nominations for induction. Not the actual inductees, but the artists who have a shot at getting in this year.
The list of potentials includes Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Stooges, ABBA, Genesis and, most shockingly, KISS. Gene Simmons has been brutally honest in his disdain for the institution. If they make it in on their first go-round, I will start telling myself we are winning the war in Iraq.
Also, to keep hip-hop in the running they announced LL Cool J. Why it seems so important to put rap music in the place I don't understand. I like early hip-hop but something tells me when they open up The Rap Museum nobody is going to induct Anthrax for their contributions to the genre.
And, also, not surprisingly, they snubbed Cheap Trick and Alice Cooper for Laura Nyro. Anyone who can tell me who the fuck that is and why she belongs in the museum gets my vinyl copies of "Welcome To My Nightmare","At Budokan" as well as a swift kick in the ovaries.
What I do know about the Hall Of Fame is this-- Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner pretty much decides everything that happens involving the inductees. It is determined by his preferences and musical tastes (which explains ABBA) and what he feels will make good copy in his magazine and bring in ratings when VH1 airs the ceremony. For thirty years, he and his magazine have done a great job of pretending like Alice and KISS never happened so why should his vanity chest of a museum be any different? I speculate that because VH1 and KISS have made a lot of money on DVDs together lately that they may have weighed in on how good it would be for them to be in the show.
Mark my words on what WILL definitely happen this year. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a shoo-in. Not that they don't deserve it, but because Flea inducted Metallica last year. Don't be surprised if Lars Ulrich does the honors this time. Also, The Stooges are a lock this year because they performed "Like A Virgin" at the ceremony inducting Madonna two years ago. It was bizarre and beautiful, like Iggy Pop himself.
At the end of the day, none of this shit matters. I have my own Hall Of Fame, and I encourage you to start your own, too. We may not have the money the "official" one has but at least we know ours has integrity.
One thing I was really impressed with was earlier this year when Metallica were inducted, James Hetfield had the guts to mention a bunch of other bands who needed to go through the museum doors before him....forward to the 6:00 mark in this clip...
Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame LIVE
Product Rating
0 stars
(0 Ratings)
Write a Review
Time Life proudly presents the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Live, a 9 DVD collection featuring rare, one-of-a-kind performances from the induction ceremonies of the Rock Hall Of Fame, shot during the last 24 years. You'll see the biggest names in rock 'n' roll perform in intimate settings, and jam in combinations not seen anywhere else. Additionally, each DVD features exclusive induction speeches by rock royalty, from heartfelt tributes to hilarious zingers. Plus, each DVD has over an hour of bonus material, including rare, behind-the-scenes material and rehersal footage. Some highlights include:
Bruce Springsteen and Bono share a microphone on U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."
The original 3 members of Cream take the stage for the first time in 25 years to play a 3 song set of the group's biggest hits.
Mick Jagger and Tina Turner perform a sultry duet of the Stones' "Honky Tonk Woman."
This is the first time ever these performances have been available on home video! With 125 exclusive performances, over 24 hours of classic rock entertainment, and over 9 hours of bonus material, the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Live is a comprehensive collection sure to exceed the expectations of any rock 'n' roll fan!
You can make jokes all you want about The Jonas Brothers, Britney Spears or Milli Vanilli. For my money, the single biggest joke ever pulled in the name of popular music continues to be The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. If you don't believe me, ask yourself this.
Who decides who gets inducted and who gets left out? Where does the money come from to put on these big ceremonies every year? Why did VH1 Classic start airing these shows only five years ago? How come they are just as tepid and cumbersome as any other awards telecast? Where is that 120 dollars going that I shelled out for this DVD box set?
And, of course, the most obvious one: How the fuck did someone decide that The Pretenders and Elvis Costello had a greater effect on the course of rock and roll than, say, The Stooges or The MC5?
How does Metallica manage to be the first heavy metal band inducted before Motorhead, Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy?
Today, the Clown College, excuse me, Hall Of Fame announced their nominations for induction. Not the actual inductees, but the artists who have a shot at getting in this year.
The list of potentials includes Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Stooges, ABBA, Genesis and, most shockingly, KISS. Gene Simmons has been brutally honest in his disdain for the institution. If they make it in on their first go-round, I will start telling myself we are winning the war in Iraq.
Also, to keep hip-hop in the running they announced LL Cool J. Why it seems so important to put rap music in the place I don't understand. I like early hip-hop but something tells me when they open up The Rap Museum nobody is going to induct Anthrax for their contributions to the genre.
And, also, not surprisingly, they snubbed Cheap Trick and Alice Cooper for Laura Nyro. Anyone who can tell me who the fuck that is and why she belongs in the museum gets my vinyl copies of "Welcome To My Nightmare","At Budokan" as well as a swift kick in the ovaries.
What I do know about the Hall Of Fame is this-- Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner pretty much decides everything that happens involving the inductees. It is determined by his preferences and musical tastes (which explains ABBA) and what he feels will make good copy in his magazine and bring in ratings when VH1 airs the ceremony. For thirty years, he and his magazine have done a great job of pretending like Alice and KISS never happened so why should his vanity chest of a museum be any different? I speculate that because VH1 and KISS have made a lot of money on DVDs together lately that they may have weighed in on how good it would be for them to be in the show.
Mark my words on what WILL definitely happen this year. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a shoo-in. Not that they don't deserve it, but because Flea inducted Metallica last year. Don't be surprised if Lars Ulrich does the honors this time. Also, The Stooges are a lock this year because they performed "Like A Virgin" at the ceremony inducting Madonna two years ago. It was bizarre and beautiful, like Iggy Pop himself.
At the end of the day, none of this shit matters. I have my own Hall Of Fame, and I encourage you to start your own, too. We may not have the money the "official" one has but at least we know ours has integrity.
One thing I was really impressed with was earlier this year when Metallica were inducted, James Hetfield had the guts to mention a bunch of other bands who needed to go through the museum doors before him....forward to the 6:00 mark in this clip...
Sunday, September 20, 2009
ACE IS BACK AND HE TOLD YOU SO....
Ace Frehley has always been a BIG reason why I have loved KISS. I loved all four of the guys and their personas for various reasons, but Ace's playing and attitude has always stood out for me. He had better chops than the rest of the band, the songs he wrote just had a more streetwise feel to them, and, onstage or off, he really did seem to come from outer space.
As a kid, i was too young to realize that was just the effects of constant consumption of champagne and painkillers.
Until a couple of years ago, I really thought we were gonna lose The Space Ace. He's one of those guys who you knew was gonna go on partying and playing til he dropped, but, realistically, how much longer until that happened?
Ace got all sobered up on us a couple years ago, went out on the road with a solid and lucid touring band, and now he has come roaring back with ANOMALY, the solo album he has been telling us about since, i don't know, Bill Clinton's first term or something.
The good news is, it doesn't suck. His playing is as loose and fluid as his drunkest nights onstage and his vocals are more confident than ever. It rocks hard and loud as you would expect it to and it almost feels like with his newly found sobriety he has realized that he needs to reclaim his status as a genuine guitar hero.
Seriously, The Space Ace influenced as many future guitarists in the 70s as Eddie Van Halen, Brian May or Jimmy Page. Unfortunately, I think he let his lifestyle interfere with his legacy for the past three decades and, save for us loyal KISS Army geeks, the rest of the world kind of forgot about the depth of his greatness.
Anyone who checks out Anomaly or the upcoming live shows will happily have their memories refreshed along with a face full of smoking Les Paul solos.
Sure, I miss the drunk lunatic Ace who was literally in his own world when he played and loved to make the crowd feel like he was hosting a big party for all of us. I loved hearing all the wild stories about the car wrecks and near-death experiences. But I am genuinely happy to see that he has found some true inner peace and has raised the odds of sticking around for a few extra years.
I'll take the clean and sober Ace over no Ace at all.
Bless you, Curly. ACK!!
As a kid, i was too young to realize that was just the effects of constant consumption of champagne and painkillers.
Until a couple of years ago, I really thought we were gonna lose The Space Ace. He's one of those guys who you knew was gonna go on partying and playing til he dropped, but, realistically, how much longer until that happened?
Ace got all sobered up on us a couple years ago, went out on the road with a solid and lucid touring band, and now he has come roaring back with ANOMALY, the solo album he has been telling us about since, i don't know, Bill Clinton's first term or something.
The good news is, it doesn't suck. His playing is as loose and fluid as his drunkest nights onstage and his vocals are more confident than ever. It rocks hard and loud as you would expect it to and it almost feels like with his newly found sobriety he has realized that he needs to reclaim his status as a genuine guitar hero.
Seriously, The Space Ace influenced as many future guitarists in the 70s as Eddie Van Halen, Brian May or Jimmy Page. Unfortunately, I think he let his lifestyle interfere with his legacy for the past three decades and, save for us loyal KISS Army geeks, the rest of the world kind of forgot about the depth of his greatness.
Anyone who checks out Anomaly or the upcoming live shows will happily have their memories refreshed along with a face full of smoking Les Paul solos.
Sure, I miss the drunk lunatic Ace who was literally in his own world when he played and loved to make the crowd feel like he was hosting a big party for all of us. I loved hearing all the wild stories about the car wrecks and near-death experiences. But I am genuinely happy to see that he has found some true inner peace and has raised the odds of sticking around for a few extra years.
I'll take the clean and sober Ace over no Ace at all.
Bless you, Curly. ACK!!
SO MUCH FOR THE ZEPPELIN REUNION....
To the delight of dozens of rock fans everywhere, Bonham has just announced the following U.S. tour dates--
from Blabbermouth.net
Oct. 14 - Revolution Live - Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Oct. 15 - House of Blues - Orlando, FL
Oct. 16 - State Theatre - St. Petersburg, FL
Oct. 29 - Coach House - San Juan Capistrano, CA
Oct. 30 - The Canyon - Agoura Hills, CA
BONHAM will perform selections from LED ZEPPELIN, UFO, FOREIGNER "and a whole lot more."
BONHAM released its first record, "The Disregard of Timekeeping", in September 1989, which was eventually certified gold, and featured the single "Wait For You". A follow-up album, "Mad Hatter", was released in 1992.
BONHAM singer Daniel MacMaster, 39, died unexpectedly on March 16, 2008 in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada following complications from pneumonia, after a strep A infection entered his bloodstream.
I think I speak for all rock fans everywhere when I say it won't feel like Bonham without whatshisname...i mean, er, ah, Daniel MacMaster.
from Blabbermouth.net
Oct. 14 - Revolution Live - Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Oct. 15 - House of Blues - Orlando, FL
Oct. 16 - State Theatre - St. Petersburg, FL
Oct. 29 - Coach House - San Juan Capistrano, CA
Oct. 30 - The Canyon - Agoura Hills, CA
BONHAM will perform selections from LED ZEPPELIN, UFO, FOREIGNER "and a whole lot more."
BONHAM released its first record, "The Disregard of Timekeeping", in September 1989, which was eventually certified gold, and featured the single "Wait For You". A follow-up album, "Mad Hatter", was released in 1992.
BONHAM singer Daniel MacMaster, 39, died unexpectedly on March 16, 2008 in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada following complications from pneumonia, after a strep A infection entered his bloodstream.
I think I speak for all rock fans everywhere when I say it won't feel like Bonham without whatshisname...i mean, er, ah, Daniel MacMaster.
LEONARD COHEN FAINTS ONSTAGE IN SPAIN....
Remarkable...
Even Leonard Cohen can't stay awake while listening to Leonard Cohen.
Fast forward to about 3:20 to see the music finally take its toll on the poor guy who has to sing it every night....
Even Leonard Cohen can't stay awake while listening to Leonard Cohen.
Fast forward to about 3:20 to see the music finally take its toll on the poor guy who has to sing it every night....
Saturday, September 19, 2009
ONE THING I FORGOT....
...to mention about the Sgt. Pepper/Cheap Trick show at The Hilton was how awkward it felt when, during "Fixing A Hole", Kanye West stormed onstage, grabbing the mic from Robin Zander and began yelling about how much better George Burns' version in the 1978 Sgt. Pepper movie was.
Peculiar.
Peculiar.
Friday, September 18, 2009
IF I DON'T SEE YOU NO MORE IN THIS WORLD...
I'll meet you in the next one. Don't be late.....
RIP James Marshall Hendrix on the 39th anniversary of his passing at the age of 27.
Thank you, Jimi, for all of us who picked up an instrument in our lifetimes with the dream of blowing minds open like you did.....
Live 12-31-69...he manages to get Vietnam out of his guitar just by standing still and closing his eyes....
My two favorite Hendrix songs because they showcase his skills as a songwriter and sonic architect....
RIP James Marshall Hendrix on the 39th anniversary of his passing at the age of 27.
Thank you, Jimi, for all of us who picked up an instrument in our lifetimes with the dream of blowing minds open like you did.....
Live 12-31-69...he manages to get Vietnam out of his guitar just by standing still and closing his eyes....
My two favorite Hendrix songs because they showcase his skills as a songwriter and sonic architect....
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
GOO GOO GA JOOB
My Beatles obsession may have officially hit feverish proportions these past few weeks.
I have been in love with this band since 1978. Ironically, it was not even their records that did it to me. It was seeing the so-bad-it's-awesome movie "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" that corrupted me at the age of 10.I had never heard music like "A Day In The Life" or "Here Comes The Sun" before. You just didn't get songs like that on top 40 radio in the age of "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" and "Funkytown". As if the mere viewing of this cocaine-fueled cinematic monstrosity had not affected me deeply enough, the actual songs burned a hole into my heart and bones where it remains today.
School, friends and being a normal kid just didn't matter anymore.
At some point in my teens, I had amassed every piece of vinyl they released, including all their solo work in the seventies and eighties, not to mention multiple copies of several titles on different labels. Not to mention dozens of books and magazines on the band. By the age of 16, I was not merely a hardcore collector, I was a Harvard professor-level authority on the subject.
Fast forward to the late summer of 2009, I am just finishing up this amazing autobiography by Philip Norman called John Lennon-The Life. 800 pages I dedicated my summer to reading and I made it through all the better for it. I honestly thought to myself before getting this book, "What could i possibly not know about John's life after all these years?"
Turns out, a million things. The book carefully details his parents' and grandparents' lives and relationships, the events leading up to his birth and subsequent abandonment by both parents, and his childhood and teenage years beautifully and succinctly. The second half of the book flies through his last twenty years on Earth at a dizzying speed, much like what I felt his actual life was like. It competently illustrates his many personality quirks and foibles, his brash confidence battling internally with his raging insecurities. I don't feel the author left any stone unturned and I am happy to report the book never falls into crass exploitation or gossip-page innuendo. Ultimately, I finished this book feeling that John was a very complicated man unsuccessfully trying to live a simple life.
I also sold off a heavy chunk of those aforementioned LPs from my teens to build up enough store credit to buy the newly remastered Beatles CD catalog that hit the world on 9-9-09. (A Lennon reference I'm sure I was not alone in catching). Parting with all that weighty vinyl was an honest load off my mind. It was getting harder with every move into a new place to rationalize keeping it unplayed and untouched after all these years. The sacrifice was well worth it.
The new CDs sound beautiful and give the music the sonic makeover it had been waiting for since the inception of digital music technology. The original pressings in 1987 were good for that time but hardly revolutionary. They really just sounded like virgin vinyl processed onto a CD. Now, you can honestly hear a crispness in the acoustic guitars and a thunder in the drumming i never noticed before. The vocals no longer have an unnecessary echo or hiss like before. On some songs, there is a presence in them so strong it feels like the vocal tracks are being recorded in front of you.
The packaging is superior with all new liner notes on the history and recording of each title, brand new photos unpublished anywhere, and each CD comes with a 5-minute exclusive mini-documentary viewed on any PC.
Fantastic. Beautiful. Thrilling. The best stuff on Earth just got better.
Earlier this week, one of my other favorite bands, Cheap Trick started a nine-day engagement at The Las Vegas Hilton performing the Sgt. Pepper album in its entirety. If any American band can pull off a fitting tribute, it's Cheap Trick. The band has all the catchy songs and goofy charm that i heard in The Beatles, but with an edgier, sarcastic undercurrent in their sound that to this day gives them an almost punklike snarl.
The show starts off in a very un-Vegas way with a live band (not Trick) playing a Fab Four medley backed by a 30-piece symphony orchestra. Joan Osbourne, Ian Ball and Rob Laufer all take turns on a few numbers admirably. After the spoken introduction of "Ladies & Gentlemen, the best fucking band you have ever heard in your life..." Cheap Trick come out and just rock the joint in their usual way. I have seen these guys over a dozen times in a dozen years and they are still consistently great. This was especially exciting just because it was something different than a CT greatest hits package show, which i also like but have watched twice too many.
Many thanks to Robin, Rick, Tom and Bun E. for trying something different and challenging with great SUCK potential but never actually meeting that.
I would love to say that my obsession has found some sort of peak but I know it never will. There are some things in life you can outgrow or change your mind about, like clothes or politics. But I cannot imagine singing songs of love and life will ever get old. No matter how old we get.
I have been in love with this band since 1978. Ironically, it was not even their records that did it to me. It was seeing the so-bad-it's-awesome movie "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" that corrupted me at the age of 10.I had never heard music like "A Day In The Life" or "Here Comes The Sun" before. You just didn't get songs like that on top 40 radio in the age of "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" and "Funkytown". As if the mere viewing of this cocaine-fueled cinematic monstrosity had not affected me deeply enough, the actual songs burned a hole into my heart and bones where it remains today.
School, friends and being a normal kid just didn't matter anymore.
At some point in my teens, I had amassed every piece of vinyl they released, including all their solo work in the seventies and eighties, not to mention multiple copies of several titles on different labels. Not to mention dozens of books and magazines on the band. By the age of 16, I was not merely a hardcore collector, I was a Harvard professor-level authority on the subject.
Fast forward to the late summer of 2009, I am just finishing up this amazing autobiography by Philip Norman called John Lennon-The Life. 800 pages I dedicated my summer to reading and I made it through all the better for it. I honestly thought to myself before getting this book, "What could i possibly not know about John's life after all these years?"
Turns out, a million things. The book carefully details his parents' and grandparents' lives and relationships, the events leading up to his birth and subsequent abandonment by both parents, and his childhood and teenage years beautifully and succinctly. The second half of the book flies through his last twenty years on Earth at a dizzying speed, much like what I felt his actual life was like. It competently illustrates his many personality quirks and foibles, his brash confidence battling internally with his raging insecurities. I don't feel the author left any stone unturned and I am happy to report the book never falls into crass exploitation or gossip-page innuendo. Ultimately, I finished this book feeling that John was a very complicated man unsuccessfully trying to live a simple life.
I also sold off a heavy chunk of those aforementioned LPs from my teens to build up enough store credit to buy the newly remastered Beatles CD catalog that hit the world on 9-9-09. (A Lennon reference I'm sure I was not alone in catching). Parting with all that weighty vinyl was an honest load off my mind. It was getting harder with every move into a new place to rationalize keeping it unplayed and untouched after all these years. The sacrifice was well worth it.
The new CDs sound beautiful and give the music the sonic makeover it had been waiting for since the inception of digital music technology. The original pressings in 1987 were good for that time but hardly revolutionary. They really just sounded like virgin vinyl processed onto a CD. Now, you can honestly hear a crispness in the acoustic guitars and a thunder in the drumming i never noticed before. The vocals no longer have an unnecessary echo or hiss like before. On some songs, there is a presence in them so strong it feels like the vocal tracks are being recorded in front of you.
The packaging is superior with all new liner notes on the history and recording of each title, brand new photos unpublished anywhere, and each CD comes with a 5-minute exclusive mini-documentary viewed on any PC.
Fantastic. Beautiful. Thrilling. The best stuff on Earth just got better.
Earlier this week, one of my other favorite bands, Cheap Trick started a nine-day engagement at The Las Vegas Hilton performing the Sgt. Pepper album in its entirety. If any American band can pull off a fitting tribute, it's Cheap Trick. The band has all the catchy songs and goofy charm that i heard in The Beatles, but with an edgier, sarcastic undercurrent in their sound that to this day gives them an almost punklike snarl.
The show starts off in a very un-Vegas way with a live band (not Trick) playing a Fab Four medley backed by a 30-piece symphony orchestra. Joan Osbourne, Ian Ball and Rob Laufer all take turns on a few numbers admirably. After the spoken introduction of "Ladies & Gentlemen, the best fucking band you have ever heard in your life..." Cheap Trick come out and just rock the joint in their usual way. I have seen these guys over a dozen times in a dozen years and they are still consistently great. This was especially exciting just because it was something different than a CT greatest hits package show, which i also like but have watched twice too many.
Many thanks to Robin, Rick, Tom and Bun E. for trying something different and challenging with great SUCK potential but never actually meeting that.
I would love to say that my obsession has found some sort of peak but I know it never will. There are some things in life you can outgrow or change your mind about, like clothes or politics. But I cannot imagine singing songs of love and life will ever get old. No matter how old we get.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
PEOPLE WHO DIED
from The New York Times:
Jim Carroll, poet, singer, author of The Basketball Diaries dead at 60.
The cause was a heart attack, said Rosemary Carroll, his former wife.
As a teenage basketball star in the 1960s at Trinity, an elite private school on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Mr. Carroll led a chaotic life that combined sports, drugs and poetry. This highly unusual combination lent a lurid appeal to “The Basketball Diaries,” the journal he kept during high school and published in 1978, by which time his poetry had already won him a cult reputation as the new Bob Dylan.
“I met him in 1970, and already he was pretty much universally recognized as the best poet of his generation,” the singer Patti Smith said in a telephone interview on Sunday. “The work was sophisticated and elegant. He had beauty.”
The diaries began, innocently: “Today was my first Biddy League game and my first day in any organized basketball league. I’m enthused about life due to this exciting event.”
By the end of the book, Mr. Carroll was a heroin addict who supported his habit by hustling in Times Square. “Totally zonked, and all the dope scraped or sniffed clean from the tiny cellophane bags,” the final entry read, continuing, “I can see the Cloisters with its million in medieval art out the bedroom window. I got to go in and puke. I just want to be pure.”
“The Basketball Diaries,” reissued in a mass-market edition in 1980, became enormously popular, especially on college campuses. In a film adaptation in 1995, Leonardo DiCaprio played the part of Mr. Carroll.
The writer’s good looks and flair for drama made him ideal raw material for rock stardom. “When I was about 9 years old, man, I realized that the real thing was not only to do what you were doing totally great, but to look totally great while you were doing it,” he told the poet Ted Berrigan in the 1960s. In the late 1970s, with the encouragement of Ms. Smith, he formed the Jim Carroll Band, whose first release, “Catholic Boy” (1980), is sometimes called the last great punk album.
James Dennis Carroll, the son of a bar owner, spent his childhood on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, where he attended Roman Catholic schools. After the family moved to Inwood, at the northern end of Manhattan, he won a basketball scholarship to Trinity. There he discovered a love of writing and began spending time at the St. Mark’s Poetry Project in the East Village, falling under the spell of Allen Ginsberg and Frank O’Hara.
Still in his teens, he published a limited-edition pamphlet of his poems, “Organic Trains” (1967), which, with its successor, “4 Ups and 1 Down” (1970), won him a cult following that was enhanced when The Paris Review published excerpts from his journals in 1970. “Living at the Movies” (1973), issued by a mainstream publisher, won him both acclaim and a wider audience.
His life was colorful. Hailed by Ginsberg, Berrigan and Jack Kerouac as a powerful new poetic voice, he became a fixture on the downtown scene. After briefly attending Wagner College on Staten Island and Columbia University, he found his way to Andy Warhol’s Factory, contributing dialogue for Warhol’s films. Later he worked as a studio assistant for the painter Larry Rivers and lived with Ms. Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, the photographer. He chronicled this frenetic period in “Forced Entries: The Downtown Diaries, 1971-1973.”
In 1973 Mr. Carroll left New York to escape drugs. He settled in Bolinas, an artistic community north of San Francisco, where met and married Rosemary Klemfuss in 1978. The marriage ended in divorce. He is survived by a brother, Tom.
Mr. Carroll’s music career started by accident when Ms. Smith brought him onstage to declaim his poetry with her band providing background. Encouraged by the response, he formed his own band. It caught the attention of Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones, who arranged a three-record deal with Atlantic Records.
The critic Stephen Holden described Mr. Carroll in The New York Times in 1982 as “not so much a singer as an incantatory rock-and-roll poet.” Like Lou Reed, he had a mesmerizing power, evident on songs like “People Who Died” from “Catholic Boy,” a poetic litany of his dead friends that became a hit on college radio and part of the soundtrack for “E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.”
The group’s next two albums, “Dry Dreams” (1982) and “I Write Your Name” (1984), caused much less stir. After writing lyrics for Blue Oyster Cult and Boz Scaggs, Mr. Carroll returned to the studio in 1998 to record “Pools of Mercury.”
Mr. Carroll published several more poetry collections — “The Book of Nods” (1986), “Fear of Dreaming” (1993) and “Void of Course: Poems 1994-1997” (1998) — as well as releasing several spoken-word albums.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Eight Years Later.....
September 11, 2009.
I still want answers.
I'm still pissed off.
I know I'm not alone.
In the meantime, I'm gonna yearn for a simpler time when Geddy Lee had a mullet to end all mullets.....
I still want answers.
I'm still pissed off.
I know I'm not alone.
In the meantime, I'm gonna yearn for a simpler time when Geddy Lee had a mullet to end all mullets.....
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
AMERICAN IDOL NEWS FLASH!!!!
It's officially official.
Ellen DeGeneres has been named as the new fourth judge on next season of American Idol, replacing the pharmaceutically-enhanced wunderkind formerly known as Paula Abdul.
I personally love all those comedies she made with Ben Stiller and laugh my balls off every time I catch Wedding Crashers on cable, so I'm considering watching the show for my very first time.
Congratulations, Ellen!! Great to see you on TV more often!!
9-9-09...number nine...number nine...
So what with today being 9-9-09?
Well, the remastered, souped-up 22 years in the making Beatles CD catalog hits today.
Not to mention The Beatles Rock Band game, which, if I were into playing a 300 dollar version of "Simon" with toy guitars, would also be an extremely big deal for me.
I'm picking up the CDs this week at Zia Records, because Wal-Mart and Best Buy regard true music fans the same way George W. regarded the victims of Hurricane Katrina. An annoying afterthought. I'll have that review over the weekend, I promise.
9-9-09 made me remember a little thing that happened on 6-6-06. Some metal fans publicized that date as National Day Of Slayer, and encouraged everybody to just crank up tuneage from the almighty Satan-worshippers all day long.
Unfortunately, I did not participate. When my friend called to tell me about the festivities, his cell phone cut out and I thought he was calling for National Day Of Player. Imagine my depression after listening to this song 322 times in one day.....
Well, the remastered, souped-up 22 years in the making Beatles CD catalog hits today.
Not to mention The Beatles Rock Band game, which, if I were into playing a 300 dollar version of "Simon" with toy guitars, would also be an extremely big deal for me.
I'm picking up the CDs this week at Zia Records, because Wal-Mart and Best Buy regard true music fans the same way George W. regarded the victims of Hurricane Katrina. An annoying afterthought. I'll have that review over the weekend, I promise.
9-9-09 made me remember a little thing that happened on 6-6-06. Some metal fans publicized that date as National Day Of Slayer, and encouraged everybody to just crank up tuneage from the almighty Satan-worshippers all day long.
Unfortunately, I did not participate. When my friend called to tell me about the festivities, his cell phone cut out and I thought he was calling for National Day Of Player. Imagine my depression after listening to this song 322 times in one day.....
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NITE...AND PART OF EVERY DAY...LIKE MAYBE BETWEEN NOON AND 3 PM I'M AVAILABLE
It's gonna be a busy month for us foot soldiers in the KISS Army.
(Actually, i prefer to think of myself as a semi-retired lieutenant colonel)
September 15th is the release date for the new Ace Frehley CD, Anomaly. It's the legendary Space Ace's first solo release in 96 years. Actually, it's only been like twenty but, let's face it, Cassettes were still the biggest-selling music media when i last saw a new Ace record anywhere.
October 6th sees the new studio CD (only 10 years in the making) from KISS called Sonic Boom. The CD will be exclusively available at Wal-Mart stores everywhere, coveniently located next to the all-new KISS adult diapers.
Hey, don't let it be said that Gene Simmons does not know his demographics.
Of course, there will be four collectible KISS adult diapers.
The Gene Simmons Adult Diaper-- not only full of more shit than any other adult diaper on the market, can also spew and recycle more shit than one human can biologically reproduce.
The Ace Frehley Adult Diaper-- defective upon purchase. Just does as little as possible all the time.
The Paul Stanley Adult Diaper-- just feels like a tongue in your ass 24-7. Perfect if you're into that sort of thing...not that there is anything wrong with that.
The Peter Criss Adult Diaper-- just complains constantly that he doesn't get as much shit as the other three.
I can already imagine Gene suggesting the taglines to the ad agency. "Dressed To Spill", "Let's Put The X In Excrement", "Crappy, Crappy Nights"...oh, i could go on and on.
In reality, how much further away are we from this MAD TV sketch?
(Actually, i prefer to think of myself as a semi-retired lieutenant colonel)
September 15th is the release date for the new Ace Frehley CD, Anomaly. It's the legendary Space Ace's first solo release in 96 years. Actually, it's only been like twenty but, let's face it, Cassettes were still the biggest-selling music media when i last saw a new Ace record anywhere.
October 6th sees the new studio CD (only 10 years in the making) from KISS called Sonic Boom. The CD will be exclusively available at Wal-Mart stores everywhere, coveniently located next to the all-new KISS adult diapers.
Hey, don't let it be said that Gene Simmons does not know his demographics.
Of course, there will be four collectible KISS adult diapers.
The Gene Simmons Adult Diaper-- not only full of more shit than any other adult diaper on the market, can also spew and recycle more shit than one human can biologically reproduce.
The Ace Frehley Adult Diaper-- defective upon purchase. Just does as little as possible all the time.
The Paul Stanley Adult Diaper-- just feels like a tongue in your ass 24-7. Perfect if you're into that sort of thing...not that there is anything wrong with that.
The Peter Criss Adult Diaper-- just complains constantly that he doesn't get as much shit as the other three.
I can already imagine Gene suggesting the taglines to the ad agency. "Dressed To Spill", "Let's Put The X In Excrement", "Crappy, Crappy Nights"...oh, i could go on and on.
In reality, how much further away are we from this MAD TV sketch?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
WHEN GREAT CONCEPTS COLLIDE WITH BAD MOVIES....
My latest adventure at the movies was an interesting one. I got to simultaneously enjoy the nerve-wracking feel of a roller coaster ride combined with a REALLY stupid movie.
I went to see The Final Destination. For a lark, it was decided that it would be experienced in a theater that was screening it not only in 3D, but in a new feature called D-BOX Seating.
I tried to find a decent video that would give a better idea what it's like but all i could find was this......
Boy, can that kid sell a product or what? Watch out, Billy Mays.
Anyway, what D-Box essentially does is move your seat according to the movie you are watching. If there's a wild car chase or an explosion, you feel it. Hell, if someone sneezes or farts in the movie, you feel it. It is a lot of fun but definitely not for people who suffer motion sickness easily.
The reason I chose the latest Final Destination movie was clear...the movies are so dumb they're awesome. I don't go expecting a great suspense movie. I want bad acting, thoughtless writing, and completely unrealistic death scenes you can see coming an hour beforehand. And in 3D, no less!! I had yet to see anything in the "new" 3D technology i have been reading about lately. I have to admit it looks pretty cool. It still makes me yearn for the old days of Dr. Tongue's 3d House Of Stewardesses, though.....
I went to see The Final Destination. For a lark, it was decided that it would be experienced in a theater that was screening it not only in 3D, but in a new feature called D-BOX Seating.
I tried to find a decent video that would give a better idea what it's like but all i could find was this......
Boy, can that kid sell a product or what? Watch out, Billy Mays.
Anyway, what D-Box essentially does is move your seat according to the movie you are watching. If there's a wild car chase or an explosion, you feel it. Hell, if someone sneezes or farts in the movie, you feel it. It is a lot of fun but definitely not for people who suffer motion sickness easily.
The reason I chose the latest Final Destination movie was clear...the movies are so dumb they're awesome. I don't go expecting a great suspense movie. I want bad acting, thoughtless writing, and completely unrealistic death scenes you can see coming an hour beforehand. And in 3D, no less!! I had yet to see anything in the "new" 3D technology i have been reading about lately. I have to admit it looks pretty cool. It still makes me yearn for the old days of Dr. Tongue's 3d House Of Stewardesses, though.....
Saturday, August 29, 2009
WE'D LOVE TO TAKE YOU HOME...
For nine nights in September, the world's most under-appreciated band Cheap Trick will be doing a special engagement at The Las Vegas Hilton where they will perform The Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper" album in its entirety, accompanied by several additional musicians and an orchestra.
As a rabid lifelong fan of both acts, i plan on hitting one of the shows. If I could do all nine, believe me I would. But the economy being what it is, I like my home and don't want to lose it to sleeping in a bus station if I can help it.
For anyone who can't or won't part with the bread for a ticket, I highly recommend the new DVD of the show that was filmed last year in New York. Fans of either The Fabs or CT will not be disappointed. Since I plan on hitting the show in a couple weeks, I will save a more detailed review until that time.
The DVD looks like it was shot at a very swanky expensive ballroom with tables of people as opposed to seats or general admission. The crowd is very receptive and the band pulls off what would seem like a daunting task reproducing an album that, by 1967 standards, was never meant to be reproduced live.
Vocalist Robin Zander is possibly the only person alive that can sound like John Lennon AND Paul McCartney when he sings. Getting to hear his work on "She's Leaving Home" on this DVD is worth the purchase itself. Guitarist Rick Nielsen, drummer Bun E. Carlos and bassist Tom Petersson just cruise through the songs effortlessly as if they'd been rehearsing them for years. The chemistry of this band after 33 years together is still nothing short of brilliant.
A couple of songs have vocal duties by Ian Ball of Gomez, who has a very Liverpudlian flavor to his singing, and Joan Osbourne, who, I have to admit, I like more now than back when she was all over the radio with "One Of Us" fifteen years ago. I underestimated the soulfulness in her voice. The whole DVD ends with a very spirited stab at the Golden Slumbers medley off Abbey Road, which gives everyone on stage a chance to shine.
As I said, I'll do a more thorough write-up after the live show, I just thought I would spread the word about this nice little ditty to anyone shopping for a proper Beatles tribute without all the fake accents and bad wigs.
There is no high quality footage of the DVD uploaded yet but here is CT doing Magical Mystery Tour from, I believe, Japan in 1992. Great version....
As a rabid lifelong fan of both acts, i plan on hitting one of the shows. If I could do all nine, believe me I would. But the economy being what it is, I like my home and don't want to lose it to sleeping in a bus station if I can help it.
For anyone who can't or won't part with the bread for a ticket, I highly recommend the new DVD of the show that was filmed last year in New York. Fans of either The Fabs or CT will not be disappointed. Since I plan on hitting the show in a couple weeks, I will save a more detailed review until that time.
The DVD looks like it was shot at a very swanky expensive ballroom with tables of people as opposed to seats or general admission. The crowd is very receptive and the band pulls off what would seem like a daunting task reproducing an album that, by 1967 standards, was never meant to be reproduced live.
Vocalist Robin Zander is possibly the only person alive that can sound like John Lennon AND Paul McCartney when he sings. Getting to hear his work on "She's Leaving Home" on this DVD is worth the purchase itself. Guitarist Rick Nielsen, drummer Bun E. Carlos and bassist Tom Petersson just cruise through the songs effortlessly as if they'd been rehearsing them for years. The chemistry of this band after 33 years together is still nothing short of brilliant.
A couple of songs have vocal duties by Ian Ball of Gomez, who has a very Liverpudlian flavor to his singing, and Joan Osbourne, who, I have to admit, I like more now than back when she was all over the radio with "One Of Us" fifteen years ago. I underestimated the soulfulness in her voice. The whole DVD ends with a very spirited stab at the Golden Slumbers medley off Abbey Road, which gives everyone on stage a chance to shine.
As I said, I'll do a more thorough write-up after the live show, I just thought I would spread the word about this nice little ditty to anyone shopping for a proper Beatles tribute without all the fake accents and bad wigs.
There is no high quality footage of the DVD uploaded yet but here is CT doing Magical Mystery Tour from, I believe, Japan in 1992. Great version....
Friday, August 28, 2009
I NEED A FIX 'COS I'M GOING DOWN....
It took someone dying for me to admit that I have a serious personal problem that I need to address. Like any addiction, it started out casually enough, something I would just indulge in on days off, never more than twice a week.
Then, suddenly, it became a regular daily habit. Before I knew it, I was actually scheduling my regular life around my habit.
The addiction? Reality television. The dirtiest and most self-deprecating vice of all to possess.
Like I said, it started so innocently. I seem to remember catching the first episode of Rock Of Love with Bret Michaels on VH1 out of truly morbid curiosity. Twenty years ago, I couldn't imagine any female wanting to be in a relationship with this douche, and that was when he had a steady job. But, in 2006, I had to check out what type of bottom-feeder would admit to a nationally televised audience that this was her type of man. I was expecting the type of chick I saw at hair metal shows. 45, leathery skin, fried hair from using the same bleach for three decades, unable to read the memo forbidding the showing of stretch marks in a rock club.
You know the type.
Of course, every woman who ended up on the show was 20 to 30 years old, and semi-glamorous but in the stripper/bad horror movie actress kind of way. And of course, I watched the whole season because the TV trainwreck just could not let me out of its Kung Fu Grip.
Suddenly, I'm watching not only the following Rock Of Love seasons, but I am even getting sucked into the VH1 vortex of spinoff shows, like "I Love Money" and "Charm School". These shows don't even have a real payoff. The contestants are people who basically sucked so hard they got booted from other reality shows. And I actually watched these people week after week.
It would be like following Gary Cherone's career closely just because your favorite band is Van Halen and he was in the lamest version of it for two weeks.
Before I realize it, I'm watching shows with chefs. I'm watching shows with drug addicts, some of whom used to be famous. I'm watching shows about people stuck in a house for three months. I'm watching shows about guys trying to wade through a sea of strippers to find the love of their lives. I'm waking up in a cold sweat at night fearing that a show about fashion models is coming on and I can't find the remote in time to shut it off.
My dependency ended when the murder-suicide of Ryan Jenkins and Jasmine Fiore broke last week. Jenkins was a contestant on Vh1's latest time-waster, "Megan Wants A Millionaire" which was essentially twenty douchebags vying for the affections of a retarded woman in a bikini who was actually too stupid for Bret Michaels' tastes.
It was the same thing I would see in Vegas nightclubs if i actually wanted to dress up and stand in a line for four hours.
Anyway, Jenkins was briefly married to an actress-model from Vegas named Jasmine Fiore, whose severely mutilated body turned up in California a couple weeks ago. Jenkins, it turns out had murdered her. He tried fleeing back to his native Canada, only to be found dead by hanging.
VH1, in a rare show of taste and compassion, immediately yanked any and all episodes of "Megan" as well as another unaired show Jenkins participated in, "I Love Money 3". I could not have been happier. I just knew that I would somehow give in and let my brains and my self-esteem get teased, violated and discarded once again by those date-rapists at VH1.
I am just so sorry somebody had to die to get me off this visual junk food.
I'm pledging now to catch up on the quality TV I keep hearing about. Sons Of Anarchy, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, True Blood.
If not for the current season of Rescue Me, I would have forgotten there was such a thing as thoughtful, emotionally charged series with these things called ACTORS!!!! And they're all tangled up in PLOTS!!!! Which were created by SCREENWRITERS!!!!
I'm gonna put more effort into my new addiction. I can't promise I'll give up crap TV forever. I will have to make an occasional concession here and there. But if you hear about me getting so down in the emotional hole that I am on pins and needles waiting for the results of a televised dance-off or karaoke contest, you have my permission to put me in the ground like a sick dog.
Then, suddenly, it became a regular daily habit. Before I knew it, I was actually scheduling my regular life around my habit.
The addiction? Reality television. The dirtiest and most self-deprecating vice of all to possess.
Like I said, it started so innocently. I seem to remember catching the first episode of Rock Of Love with Bret Michaels on VH1 out of truly morbid curiosity. Twenty years ago, I couldn't imagine any female wanting to be in a relationship with this douche, and that was when he had a steady job. But, in 2006, I had to check out what type of bottom-feeder would admit to a nationally televised audience that this was her type of man. I was expecting the type of chick I saw at hair metal shows. 45, leathery skin, fried hair from using the same bleach for three decades, unable to read the memo forbidding the showing of stretch marks in a rock club.
You know the type.
Of course, every woman who ended up on the show was 20 to 30 years old, and semi-glamorous but in the stripper/bad horror movie actress kind of way. And of course, I watched the whole season because the TV trainwreck just could not let me out of its Kung Fu Grip.
Suddenly, I'm watching not only the following Rock Of Love seasons, but I am even getting sucked into the VH1 vortex of spinoff shows, like "I Love Money" and "Charm School". These shows don't even have a real payoff. The contestants are people who basically sucked so hard they got booted from other reality shows. And I actually watched these people week after week.
It would be like following Gary Cherone's career closely just because your favorite band is Van Halen and he was in the lamest version of it for two weeks.
Before I realize it, I'm watching shows with chefs. I'm watching shows with drug addicts, some of whom used to be famous. I'm watching shows about people stuck in a house for three months. I'm watching shows about guys trying to wade through a sea of strippers to find the love of their lives. I'm waking up in a cold sweat at night fearing that a show about fashion models is coming on and I can't find the remote in time to shut it off.
My dependency ended when the murder-suicide of Ryan Jenkins and Jasmine Fiore broke last week. Jenkins was a contestant on Vh1's latest time-waster, "Megan Wants A Millionaire" which was essentially twenty douchebags vying for the affections of a retarded woman in a bikini who was actually too stupid for Bret Michaels' tastes.
It was the same thing I would see in Vegas nightclubs if i actually wanted to dress up and stand in a line for four hours.
Anyway, Jenkins was briefly married to an actress-model from Vegas named Jasmine Fiore, whose severely mutilated body turned up in California a couple weeks ago. Jenkins, it turns out had murdered her. He tried fleeing back to his native Canada, only to be found dead by hanging.
VH1, in a rare show of taste and compassion, immediately yanked any and all episodes of "Megan" as well as another unaired show Jenkins participated in, "I Love Money 3". I could not have been happier. I just knew that I would somehow give in and let my brains and my self-esteem get teased, violated and discarded once again by those date-rapists at VH1.
I am just so sorry somebody had to die to get me off this visual junk food.
I'm pledging now to catch up on the quality TV I keep hearing about. Sons Of Anarchy, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, True Blood.
If not for the current season of Rescue Me, I would have forgotten there was such a thing as thoughtful, emotionally charged series with these things called ACTORS!!!! And they're all tangled up in PLOTS!!!! Which were created by SCREENWRITERS!!!!
I'm gonna put more effort into my new addiction. I can't promise I'll give up crap TV forever. I will have to make an occasional concession here and there. But if you hear about me getting so down in the emotional hole that I am on pins and needles waiting for the results of a televised dance-off or karaoke contest, you have my permission to put me in the ground like a sick dog.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
MY EULOGY TO SENATOR TED KENNEDY
(cue thick Boston accent)
"Er..ahh...it' the end of an era. Er, ahh."
I will be watching the live coverage of the service on Saturday just to see if the hearse goes off a bridge into a lake.
Er, ahh.
"Er..ahh...it' the end of an era. Er, ahh."
I will be watching the live coverage of the service on Saturday just to see if the hearse goes off a bridge into a lake.
Er, ahh.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
MOVIEGOING ON MARS
So last week while in grey breezy Los Angeles, i took in a showing of the guitar documentary It Might Get Loud. It had opened that week and i knew it would be weeks before it came to a theater near me. And even that is wishful thinking. Usually small movies like this one i just save to my Netflix queue and wait for them to materialize in my mailbox months later on their street date.
The movie is playing in Hollywood at a place i had never heard of called the Arclight, located on the legendary Sunset Blvd. I found out from my unofficial human California directory that it was once known as the Cinerama, which i had driven by on every trek down that street for the past twenty-two years of visits. It used to be this big funky dome shaped like a cross between a snow globe and a generic knockoff Faberge egg.
(I wonder if those are the same people that made my favorite cologne, BRUT....by Faberge. Wait....okay, G Ramone says no emphatically.)
Like everything else in LA, the theater is adjacent to a shopping center, but at least with this one you don't have to plod through the mall to get to it. You open the doors and you step into this massive room that looks like a museum. Unbelievably high ceilings, soft muted tones in the paint and carpet, and, get this, it was full of people and yet relatively calm and quiet. There's a massive electronic marquee overhead and a huge table for a ticket counter with no partition or microphone that makes the ticket agent sound like Darth Vader.
The admission prices startled me because i knew that this place would not be cheap, even by LA standards. Matinee prices were 12.00! Yikes! If i came on a weekend after 5pm, i'm parting with 15.00! Wow! But, godammit, i was on vacation and dying for this movie, so fuck it! I'm in!!
Here's where it all started to feel like an acid trip.
The nice girl at the ticket counter turned her computer monitor towards me and asked where would i like to sit. HUH??!??!? She explained that i was looking at a diagram of the theater my movie was playing in and any seats that were not highlighted were free for my taking. JESUS!! I don't get that kind of option buying concert tickets anymore. I picked fifth row center and made my way up the escalator to my seats.
The building had these framed color shots of people like Carlos Santana and Slash all over the lobby. I assumed it was for the movie i was seeing but it was to promote another rockumentary called Rock Prophecies playing there next month. They had four seven-foot glass cases with tuxedos and dresses worn in Inglorious Basterds with lobby cards and synopses of each outfit. As i said, it was like being in a museum or an art gallery. No way was i in a movie theater.
We get our seats, which were velvet and built like a new La-Z-Boy. The screen had a very dim subtle Arclight logo which never changed. The speakers played this very soft, unintruding light classical music for the 10 minutes before showtime. The room has again a high ceiling, contoured walls and roomy aisles that you would expect to see in a small concert hall, not a 16-screen multiplex. The front row is easily 30 feet away from the screen so one is never forced to throw their neck all the way back to take everything in.
The music stops and a very professional-looking gentleman steps up in front of the audience and announces his name, his title and welcomes us to the theater. He tells us the movie's name, the running time and that we will have three previews before the feature. He asks us to please turn off our phones and if we have any questions or complaints to please ask for him or any of his employees in the lobby. He thanked us and walked off, the lights dimmed, three previews played and, without abeat, the movie starts!!!
I held my hand up to my face to see if it had melted or just simply gave off vapor trails yet.
Then, after the film, the audience actually sat in their seats for the closing credits, applauded when the lights came up, THEN started talking and filing out!!!! I honestly cannot tell you the last time i saw a movie in a room full of people who actually enjoy going to the movies.
I didn't have to glare or sshhh some fuckhead who brought his cumstain of a kid to an adult-themed movie, that insists on wandering around the aisles aimlessly, while I ponder strangling it like a jizzmop at a nudie booth.
I didn't have jerkoffs with muscle spasms behind me who can't stop kicking my seat.
I didn't have to keep making room for the fat cunt with the bladder dimensions of a Dixie cup every twenty minutes.
Speaking of spasms and poor bladders, I didn't have to deal with the confused and deaf eldery couple who can never understand the movie we're all watching because back in their days of Kinescopes and live piano players in the front row, movies didn't have plot twists and non-linear storylines.
And, best of all, the three trailers before my movie were actually of the non-Jennifer Aniston/Matthew McConaughey romantic comedy type. I swear when i see the audience laughing loudly at the trailer for this upcoming middle-aged guy comedy with Robin Williams and John Travolta, i can simultaneoulsy hear Jesus weeping.
I know someday soon i am gonna have to face all this shit again at a movie theater near me.
But, at least, i know now that a Nirvana-like filmgoing experience is just a gas tank away.
The movie is playing in Hollywood at a place i had never heard of called the Arclight, located on the legendary Sunset Blvd. I found out from my unofficial human California directory that it was once known as the Cinerama, which i had driven by on every trek down that street for the past twenty-two years of visits. It used to be this big funky dome shaped like a cross between a snow globe and a generic knockoff Faberge egg.
(I wonder if those are the same people that made my favorite cologne, BRUT....by Faberge. Wait....okay, G Ramone says no emphatically.)
Like everything else in LA, the theater is adjacent to a shopping center, but at least with this one you don't have to plod through the mall to get to it. You open the doors and you step into this massive room that looks like a museum. Unbelievably high ceilings, soft muted tones in the paint and carpet, and, get this, it was full of people and yet relatively calm and quiet. There's a massive electronic marquee overhead and a huge table for a ticket counter with no partition or microphone that makes the ticket agent sound like Darth Vader.
The admission prices startled me because i knew that this place would not be cheap, even by LA standards. Matinee prices were 12.00! Yikes! If i came on a weekend after 5pm, i'm parting with 15.00! Wow! But, godammit, i was on vacation and dying for this movie, so fuck it! I'm in!!
Here's where it all started to feel like an acid trip.
The nice girl at the ticket counter turned her computer monitor towards me and asked where would i like to sit. HUH??!??!? She explained that i was looking at a diagram of the theater my movie was playing in and any seats that were not highlighted were free for my taking. JESUS!! I don't get that kind of option buying concert tickets anymore. I picked fifth row center and made my way up the escalator to my seats.
The building had these framed color shots of people like Carlos Santana and Slash all over the lobby. I assumed it was for the movie i was seeing but it was to promote another rockumentary called Rock Prophecies playing there next month. They had four seven-foot glass cases with tuxedos and dresses worn in Inglorious Basterds with lobby cards and synopses of each outfit. As i said, it was like being in a museum or an art gallery. No way was i in a movie theater.
We get our seats, which were velvet and built like a new La-Z-Boy. The screen had a very dim subtle Arclight logo which never changed. The speakers played this very soft, unintruding light classical music for the 10 minutes before showtime. The room has again a high ceiling, contoured walls and roomy aisles that you would expect to see in a small concert hall, not a 16-screen multiplex. The front row is easily 30 feet away from the screen so one is never forced to throw their neck all the way back to take everything in.
The music stops and a very professional-looking gentleman steps up in front of the audience and announces his name, his title and welcomes us to the theater. He tells us the movie's name, the running time and that we will have three previews before the feature. He asks us to please turn off our phones and if we have any questions or complaints to please ask for him or any of his employees in the lobby. He thanked us and walked off, the lights dimmed, three previews played and, without abeat, the movie starts!!!
I held my hand up to my face to see if it had melted or just simply gave off vapor trails yet.
Then, after the film, the audience actually sat in their seats for the closing credits, applauded when the lights came up, THEN started talking and filing out!!!! I honestly cannot tell you the last time i saw a movie in a room full of people who actually enjoy going to the movies.
I didn't have to glare or sshhh some fuckhead who brought his cumstain of a kid to an adult-themed movie, that insists on wandering around the aisles aimlessly, while I ponder strangling it like a jizzmop at a nudie booth.
I didn't have jerkoffs with muscle spasms behind me who can't stop kicking my seat.
I didn't have to keep making room for the fat cunt with the bladder dimensions of a Dixie cup every twenty minutes.
Speaking of spasms and poor bladders, I didn't have to deal with the confused and deaf eldery couple who can never understand the movie we're all watching because back in their days of Kinescopes and live piano players in the front row, movies didn't have plot twists and non-linear storylines.
And, best of all, the three trailers before my movie were actually of the non-Jennifer Aniston/Matthew McConaughey romantic comedy type. I swear when i see the audience laughing loudly at the trailer for this upcoming middle-aged guy comedy with Robin Williams and John Travolta, i can simultaneoulsy hear Jesus weeping.
I know someday soon i am gonna have to face all this shit again at a movie theater near me.
But, at least, i know now that a Nirvana-like filmgoing experience is just a gas tank away.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
IF IT'S TOO LOUD, YOU'RE JUST TOO FUCKING OLD....
With the sudden global obsession that is Guitar Hero and Rock Band, this could not be a better time for a documentary involving a summit with three of the rock world's most famous and influential guitarists.
It Might Get Loud was conceived and directed by Davis Guggenheim, who also brought us the cinematic bane of anti-environmental conservatives everywhere, An Inconvenient Truth. It Might Get Loud brings together the stories of three wildly diverse guitar legends from three different generations and styles: Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2) and Jack White (The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, Dead Weather...did i forget any of his other bands? What's with all the jobs? Is this guy Jamaican? )
The center of the film is a summit meeting where the three sit on a soundstage with amps up to 11 and discuss their individual creative processes, inevitably leading to jam sessions on each other's tunes. The ultimate goal of the film, i feel, is to show that however diverse the style or the influence, the musician's true inspiration comes from within the soul.
I've always liked U2, and always felt The Edge was the true musical brains behind the band. Absolutely nobody has a sound like his. Coldplay and The Killers, among others, keep trying but there is just no matching that heavenly ringing sound he produces on their best work (Where The Streets Have No Name and I Will Follow to name just two). He even honestly shows that the strength in his playing lies in his use of technology. He demonstrates this by playing a riff with no pedals or effects and it sounds very dull and lifeless. He then switches on what seems like an arsenal of foot pedals and BANG!-- the song just comes to life like a tornado.
Jack White, on the other hand, is vehemently anti-technology and a staunch supporter of visceral attitude and gut-churning feeling which he openly links to his love of the blues. His style is reflected in his Detroit workmanlike upbringing. It's just distorted and dirty and, as the film attests, downright bloody. Snobs can complain all they want about his lack of technical prowess...Jack White is a bad-ass at getting the most unnatural sounds out of a six string.
Jimmy Page is truly the film's elder statesman. It would be redundant of me to even begin to talk of his influence on me not just as a guitar enthusiast, but a music lover overall. His mark cannot be measured enough. In the tradition of Les Paul and Jimi Hendrix, he changed everything. Sound, style, technique, recordings, showmanship...the man has done it all.
For me, he anchored my two favorite moments in the film. The camera crew watches him at home playing a 45 of "Rumble" by Link Wray, with Jimmy providing commentary through the entire song. Fifty years later, he still has this look of wonder in his eyes upon listening to this seminal electric guitar anthem. It just felt great to me to see that, with all of his accomplishments, he can still get off on listening to a song for the millionth time and feeling like it was brand new to his ears.
My other favorite scene was during the summit when Page stands up with his Les Paul and hammers out the "Whole Lotta Love" riff. The film's money shot occurs with Edge and Jack just staring and smiling like teenagers watching the creator of the riff that melted minds 40 years ago playing that monster in front of them.
It made me remember the very first time i heard that song and it brought back the very same chills to my body that i got then.
The film also pays loving and appropriate tribute to the guitarists' influences, from Son House and Muddy Waters to The Ramones and even Spinal Tap. It just helps put a little perspective on where all this genius came from...other geniuses.
For musicians and music lovers, this movie cannot be seen fast enough. It truly stopped my jaded heart from forgetting why i fell in love with rock and roll in the first place.
It Might Get Loud. It Just Feels Good.
It Might Get Loud was conceived and directed by Davis Guggenheim, who also brought us the cinematic bane of anti-environmental conservatives everywhere, An Inconvenient Truth. It Might Get Loud brings together the stories of three wildly diverse guitar legends from three different generations and styles: Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2) and Jack White (The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, Dead Weather...did i forget any of his other bands? What's with all the jobs? Is this guy Jamaican? )
The center of the film is a summit meeting where the three sit on a soundstage with amps up to 11 and discuss their individual creative processes, inevitably leading to jam sessions on each other's tunes. The ultimate goal of the film, i feel, is to show that however diverse the style or the influence, the musician's true inspiration comes from within the soul.
I've always liked U2, and always felt The Edge was the true musical brains behind the band. Absolutely nobody has a sound like his. Coldplay and The Killers, among others, keep trying but there is just no matching that heavenly ringing sound he produces on their best work (Where The Streets Have No Name and I Will Follow to name just two). He even honestly shows that the strength in his playing lies in his use of technology. He demonstrates this by playing a riff with no pedals or effects and it sounds very dull and lifeless. He then switches on what seems like an arsenal of foot pedals and BANG!-- the song just comes to life like a tornado.
Jack White, on the other hand, is vehemently anti-technology and a staunch supporter of visceral attitude and gut-churning feeling which he openly links to his love of the blues. His style is reflected in his Detroit workmanlike upbringing. It's just distorted and dirty and, as the film attests, downright bloody. Snobs can complain all they want about his lack of technical prowess...Jack White is a bad-ass at getting the most unnatural sounds out of a six string.
Jimmy Page is truly the film's elder statesman. It would be redundant of me to even begin to talk of his influence on me not just as a guitar enthusiast, but a music lover overall. His mark cannot be measured enough. In the tradition of Les Paul and Jimi Hendrix, he changed everything. Sound, style, technique, recordings, showmanship...the man has done it all.
For me, he anchored my two favorite moments in the film. The camera crew watches him at home playing a 45 of "Rumble" by Link Wray, with Jimmy providing commentary through the entire song. Fifty years later, he still has this look of wonder in his eyes upon listening to this seminal electric guitar anthem. It just felt great to me to see that, with all of his accomplishments, he can still get off on listening to a song for the millionth time and feeling like it was brand new to his ears.
My other favorite scene was during the summit when Page stands up with his Les Paul and hammers out the "Whole Lotta Love" riff. The film's money shot occurs with Edge and Jack just staring and smiling like teenagers watching the creator of the riff that melted minds 40 years ago playing that monster in front of them.
It made me remember the very first time i heard that song and it brought back the very same chills to my body that i got then.
The film also pays loving and appropriate tribute to the guitarists' influences, from Son House and Muddy Waters to The Ramones and even Spinal Tap. It just helps put a little perspective on where all this genius came from...other geniuses.
For musicians and music lovers, this movie cannot be seen fast enough. It truly stopped my jaded heart from forgetting why i fell in love with rock and roll in the first place.
It Might Get Loud. It Just Feels Good.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
HERE COME THE BASTERDS
For Quentin Tarantino fans, the wait for a new film can feel interminable. The wait between Jackie Brown and Kill Bill Volume 1 was seven years. The six months between that film and its' second installment felt like an eternity filled with unanswered questions. Nearly three years passed before Death Proof materialized as part of the Grindhouse double feature in 2007.
Two and a half years later, the long-in-the-making Inglorious Basterds has at last roared into your nearest multiplex, promising all the dark humour, bizarre plot twists and unexpected violence you would expect from this generation's most audacious auteur.
You get that with this movie and a whole lot more.
The story being marketed to you in the trailers involves Brad Pitt leading a ragtag Jewish squadron of Nazi headhunters (literally) who are on a mission to stop the Third Reich scalp by bloody scalp. You get that but it's only one-third of the actual story. There is a subplot involving the terrific Christoph Waltz as a charming yet diabolical Nazi officer Col. Landa (nicknamed the Jew Hunter) who has killed the family of Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent), a refugee who has reinvented herself in France as a cinema operator. There is another subplot involving her romantic pursuit by a Nazi war hero-turned-movie star (Daniel Bruhl). There is yet a third subplot involving a German actress (Diane Kruger) who is also working as a double agent for the British in their plot to hire the Basterds to assassinate Hitler.
Confused? NO?!! Excellent! You now have my permission to check out this movie.
Tarantino, i feel, has put himself on a whole new plane as a director here. The stories eventually piece together very nicely and although there are plenty of macabre comedic moments throughout (mostly due to Pitt's character), they take their sweet time appearing here. Nothing as in-your-face as Kill Bill Vol. 1, for instance. The dialogue also has a new maturity to it. Maybe it has to do with the period of the piece that there are no typical QT observational diatribes about, say, 70s action movies or comic books. The script is still fabulous but the conversations here just have a decidedly different feel to them than i would have expected.
The music is, however, flying in the face of the period piece. There are even more spaghetti western selections from the legendary Ennio Morricone and Lalo Schifrin than Kill Bill and Death Proof combined, as well as the brilliant use of David Bowie's "Cat People", from the 1982 Paul Schrader film. Even in a Nazi war film, Tarantino throws the rules out the window and still finds the right song for the scene.
The film is heavily subtitled for a mainstream American studio movie, which will inevitably piss off a lot of people who were thinking they paid for Brad Pitt in GI Joe-Rise Of The Cobra instead. I gotta hand it to QT here. It would have been so much easier to just cast well-known American actors working hard on their French and German accents. But he knows his real fans can handle subtitles and foreign actors. The rest of you can just stay home and watch America's Got Talent.
You know who you are.
Overall, i can't recommend this enough for Tarantino fans. It will hopefully keep us sated until the next movie comes out in, by my averages, 2014.
Two and a half years later, the long-in-the-making Inglorious Basterds has at last roared into your nearest multiplex, promising all the dark humour, bizarre plot twists and unexpected violence you would expect from this generation's most audacious auteur.
You get that with this movie and a whole lot more.
The story being marketed to you in the trailers involves Brad Pitt leading a ragtag Jewish squadron of Nazi headhunters (literally) who are on a mission to stop the Third Reich scalp by bloody scalp. You get that but it's only one-third of the actual story. There is a subplot involving the terrific Christoph Waltz as a charming yet diabolical Nazi officer Col. Landa (nicknamed the Jew Hunter) who has killed the family of Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent), a refugee who has reinvented herself in France as a cinema operator. There is another subplot involving her romantic pursuit by a Nazi war hero-turned-movie star (Daniel Bruhl). There is yet a third subplot involving a German actress (Diane Kruger) who is also working as a double agent for the British in their plot to hire the Basterds to assassinate Hitler.
Confused? NO?!! Excellent! You now have my permission to check out this movie.
Tarantino, i feel, has put himself on a whole new plane as a director here. The stories eventually piece together very nicely and although there are plenty of macabre comedic moments throughout (mostly due to Pitt's character), they take their sweet time appearing here. Nothing as in-your-face as Kill Bill Vol. 1, for instance. The dialogue also has a new maturity to it. Maybe it has to do with the period of the piece that there are no typical QT observational diatribes about, say, 70s action movies or comic books. The script is still fabulous but the conversations here just have a decidedly different feel to them than i would have expected.
The music is, however, flying in the face of the period piece. There are even more spaghetti western selections from the legendary Ennio Morricone and Lalo Schifrin than Kill Bill and Death Proof combined, as well as the brilliant use of David Bowie's "Cat People", from the 1982 Paul Schrader film. Even in a Nazi war film, Tarantino throws the rules out the window and still finds the right song for the scene.
The film is heavily subtitled for a mainstream American studio movie, which will inevitably piss off a lot of people who were thinking they paid for Brad Pitt in GI Joe-Rise Of The Cobra instead. I gotta hand it to QT here. It would have been so much easier to just cast well-known American actors working hard on their French and German accents. But he knows his real fans can handle subtitles and foreign actors. The rest of you can just stay home and watch America's Got Talent.
You know who you are.
Overall, i can't recommend this enough for Tarantino fans. It will hopefully keep us sated until the next movie comes out in, by my averages, 2014.
Friday, August 14, 2009
I have a dream...
that people start throwing support to get Sarah Palin in office in 2012 so my dream of having an illiterate flight attendant run the country can finally be realized.
Free peanuts and sniper rifles for all Americans!!!!
Free peanuts and sniper rifles for all Americans!!!!
LAUGH? I NEARLY DIED...
Judd Apatow is brilliant. As writer, director and-or producer,he has been responsible for almost a dozen of my favorite comedies in the last few years. Superbad, Knocked Up, 40 Year Old Virgin, Pineapple Express, Anchorman, Step Brothers, Talladega Nights, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and for me personally, the greatest 18 hours of network TV ever made, Freaks And Geeks.
His third film as writer-director is Funny People. It may not be his peak creatively, but it is certainly his most ambitious. Adam Sandler plays a rich and famous comedy actor who is very lonely and depressed. He is diagnosed with terminal cancer and things don't look good. He meets and hires Seth Rogen, an aspiring standup, to write him jokes and eventually take on the role of personal assistant/best friend. Sandler then becomes miraculously cured and yet he still hates his life and those people in it.
The film is an acerbic look at the ugly truth about showbiz, standup comedy in particular. It shows that guys who make you laugh for a living are really unhappy with themselves and the world on the inside. It goes to some dark, uncomfortable places you don't see in comedy.
The second act is where this movie has taken some hard criticism and i can sort of understand it. It involves a subplot involving Sandler chasing after the woman who got away and is now married with children. The reason i say this is because it steers the film away from the raunchy humor for about an hour and delves into serious character development. It's well written and acted nicely, and i can handle it, but some people can't take two genres in one film.
This is the sort of storytelling that could find an audience thirty years ago when Hal Ashby made movies like Harold And Maude but nowadays, moviegoers don't want unpredictable twists and deep plot. They just want to laugh at anything that doesn't remind them of the real world, rather than stop and think how much they might relate to.
I really enjoyed the movie. I just have a small list of people i can recommend it to. Let's put it this way. If you REALLY got psyched about the Transformers sequel this year, don't go see Funny People. You will be forced to think about people and life and relationships and love and who needs to be bothered with that when you can just go deaf while watching stuff blow up around Shia LeBeouf for 150 minutes.
You know who you are.
His third film as writer-director is Funny People. It may not be his peak creatively, but it is certainly his most ambitious. Adam Sandler plays a rich and famous comedy actor who is very lonely and depressed. He is diagnosed with terminal cancer and things don't look good. He meets and hires Seth Rogen, an aspiring standup, to write him jokes and eventually take on the role of personal assistant/best friend. Sandler then becomes miraculously cured and yet he still hates his life and those people in it.
The film is an acerbic look at the ugly truth about showbiz, standup comedy in particular. It shows that guys who make you laugh for a living are really unhappy with themselves and the world on the inside. It goes to some dark, uncomfortable places you don't see in comedy.
The second act is where this movie has taken some hard criticism and i can sort of understand it. It involves a subplot involving Sandler chasing after the woman who got away and is now married with children. The reason i say this is because it steers the film away from the raunchy humor for about an hour and delves into serious character development. It's well written and acted nicely, and i can handle it, but some people can't take two genres in one film.
This is the sort of storytelling that could find an audience thirty years ago when Hal Ashby made movies like Harold And Maude but nowadays, moviegoers don't want unpredictable twists and deep plot. They just want to laugh at anything that doesn't remind them of the real world, rather than stop and think how much they might relate to.
I really enjoyed the movie. I just have a small list of people i can recommend it to. Let's put it this way. If you REALLY got psyched about the Transformers sequel this year, don't go see Funny People. You will be forced to think about people and life and relationships and love and who needs to be bothered with that when you can just go deaf while watching stuff blow up around Shia LeBeouf for 150 minutes.
You know who you are.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Rooney Eats It....
In writing about the sudden and sad passing of writer-director-comedic genius John Hughes, this was what made it hit home for me. Take a couple minutes and read this stunning personal eulogy...
http://wellknowwhenwegetthere.blogspot.com/2009/08/sincerely-john-hughes.html
After reading this, it all came home for me just how heavy this loss is for movie lovers of my generation. I personally can remember nearly everything about seeing these movies for the first time and how they made me feel. Sixteen Candles i first saw on my shiny new BETAMAX and i thought i would never stop laughing. I saw Breakfast Club in the theater with my folks and sister and just watched with dropped jaw at the subject matter and emotion i was vicariously displaying to my family. I remember thinking, if they don't get this movie, they'll never get me.
To this day, the jury is still out if they got it.
My mom and i went to Ferris Bueller and laughed through our tears at the incredible similairities between her and Edie McClurg's school secretary Grace. Anyone who knows my mom will testify. And the resemblance between Ed Rooney and our vice prinicipal Mr. McCormick has only been bested in real life by Dick Cheney and Satan.
Planes, Trains And Automobiles was, for me, the comedic equivalent of...well, honestly it defies comparison. Steve Martin's records and John Candy on SCTV molded my sense of humor when i was ten. I'll be doing impressions of them at parties until i die.
Pretty In Pink was a hard one to watch because i watched it with the same girl who turned me down for the prom the previous month. I felt like i was cursed to be Ducky for the rest of my life. After watching one and only one episode of Two And A Half Men, i can now say thank God i'm not Jon Cryer. Have you seen this godawful fuckin' show?
But i digress....
I think after reading the aforementioned blog from his former pen pal it hit me that John Hughes' movies perfectly captured a place and time in my life that only a small handful have done since. It was a time where things were way different, when supposedly i was gonna look back in my forties and feel good about how easy i had it then.
I would not be seventeen again for anything. Fuck that.
Especially not today. It's only because i'm where i am now in my life that i feel like i've accomplished miracles because i didn't kill myself and half of my high school with me.
Big props to Mr. Hughes for helping prevent such a catastrophe.
http://wellknowwhenwegetthere.blogspot.com/2009/08/sincerely-john-hughes.html
After reading this, it all came home for me just how heavy this loss is for movie lovers of my generation. I personally can remember nearly everything about seeing these movies for the first time and how they made me feel. Sixteen Candles i first saw on my shiny new BETAMAX and i thought i would never stop laughing. I saw Breakfast Club in the theater with my folks and sister and just watched with dropped jaw at the subject matter and emotion i was vicariously displaying to my family. I remember thinking, if they don't get this movie, they'll never get me.
To this day, the jury is still out if they got it.
My mom and i went to Ferris Bueller and laughed through our tears at the incredible similairities between her and Edie McClurg's school secretary Grace. Anyone who knows my mom will testify. And the resemblance between Ed Rooney and our vice prinicipal Mr. McCormick has only been bested in real life by Dick Cheney and Satan.
Planes, Trains And Automobiles was, for me, the comedic equivalent of...well, honestly it defies comparison. Steve Martin's records and John Candy on SCTV molded my sense of humor when i was ten. I'll be doing impressions of them at parties until i die.
Pretty In Pink was a hard one to watch because i watched it with the same girl who turned me down for the prom the previous month. I felt like i was cursed to be Ducky for the rest of my life. After watching one and only one episode of Two And A Half Men, i can now say thank God i'm not Jon Cryer. Have you seen this godawful fuckin' show?
But i digress....
I think after reading the aforementioned blog from his former pen pal it hit me that John Hughes' movies perfectly captured a place and time in my life that only a small handful have done since. It was a time where things were way different, when supposedly i was gonna look back in my forties and feel good about how easy i had it then.
I would not be seventeen again for anything. Fuck that.
Especially not today. It's only because i'm where i am now in my life that i feel like i've accomplished miracles because i didn't kill myself and half of my high school with me.
Big props to Mr. Hughes for helping prevent such a catastrophe.
Monday, August 3, 2009
When Heavy Metal Makes Me Cry.....
My buddy just got me a copy of the most amazing documentary which i have been waiting over a year to watch.
"ANVIL!-The Story Of Anvil."
Simply brilliant, brutally honest, unflinching in its realism. That's all i can say.
Anvil were (are) one of those 80s metal bands i knew the name but never really got into. I knew kids in school that liked them but i think they just liked any band that wasn't Duran Duran at the time.
The band was one of those that came out during the golden age of Metal, when Priest and Maiden ruled and spawned seemingly hundreds of like-minded bands who were all about leather and volume and long frizzy hair with no trace of conditioner. Some of those bands flourished, like Scorpions and Whitesnake. Some just faded without making the REALLY big break, like Raven, Kick Axe, Grim Reaper and Anvil.
The ship had sailed and a couple years later, as Lars Ulrich and Tom Araya point out, you had the rise of the "Big 4"...Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth and Slayer. And then, that high pitched fantasy-themed"Metal On Metal" style kind of dated itself to make way for the heavier, angrier style of thrash metal.
The documentary nicely sets up the scenario of how this band could have (should have) been bigger but nobody can really pinpoint where it all went wrong. It shows two guys in their 50s who just continue to churn out record after record, tour after tour, make very little money, and run into obstacle after obstacle. Why? Because this is all they wanted to do with their lives.
The thing about this movie that touched me was the realism shown that gets overlooked on Vh1 specials about bands. The constant aggravation and disappointment of playing empty venues and crooked promoters who don't pay. The loss of time spent with family and their combination of tireless support and tiresome worry about when the boys in the band will want to begin a sturdy normal life. It doesn't try to glamourize the job and make the viewer think it's all screaming fans and wild parties.
The harsh reality is it's a lot of time waiting around with nothing to do. It's cold and boring dressing rooms. It's constant moving from place to place with no chance to enjoy the surroundings. It's being stuck in a small space with four other people whom you love dearly but could strangle to death at any moment if they say one more stupid thing. Amazingly, all that and more are shown here with not a single shred of "prepared" feeling you sometimes sense in typical documentaries.
"Anvil!" ultimately gives metal fans and haters alike an inside look at the unwavering drive that possesses the musicians that make it and the fans that support it. There are hundreds of bands like Anvil, who may never quite get that big break or career-spanning documentary, but at least they can take comfort in knowing that their story has now been told, albeit vicariously.
"ANVIL!-The Story Of Anvil."
Simply brilliant, brutally honest, unflinching in its realism. That's all i can say.
Anvil were (are) one of those 80s metal bands i knew the name but never really got into. I knew kids in school that liked them but i think they just liked any band that wasn't Duran Duran at the time.
The band was one of those that came out during the golden age of Metal, when Priest and Maiden ruled and spawned seemingly hundreds of like-minded bands who were all about leather and volume and long frizzy hair with no trace of conditioner. Some of those bands flourished, like Scorpions and Whitesnake. Some just faded without making the REALLY big break, like Raven, Kick Axe, Grim Reaper and Anvil.
The ship had sailed and a couple years later, as Lars Ulrich and Tom Araya point out, you had the rise of the "Big 4"...Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth and Slayer. And then, that high pitched fantasy-themed"Metal On Metal" style kind of dated itself to make way for the heavier, angrier style of thrash metal.
The documentary nicely sets up the scenario of how this band could have (should have) been bigger but nobody can really pinpoint where it all went wrong. It shows two guys in their 50s who just continue to churn out record after record, tour after tour, make very little money, and run into obstacle after obstacle. Why? Because this is all they wanted to do with their lives.
The thing about this movie that touched me was the realism shown that gets overlooked on Vh1 specials about bands. The constant aggravation and disappointment of playing empty venues and crooked promoters who don't pay. The loss of time spent with family and their combination of tireless support and tiresome worry about when the boys in the band will want to begin a sturdy normal life. It doesn't try to glamourize the job and make the viewer think it's all screaming fans and wild parties.
The harsh reality is it's a lot of time waiting around with nothing to do. It's cold and boring dressing rooms. It's constant moving from place to place with no chance to enjoy the surroundings. It's being stuck in a small space with four other people whom you love dearly but could strangle to death at any moment if they say one more stupid thing. Amazingly, all that and more are shown here with not a single shred of "prepared" feeling you sometimes sense in typical documentaries.
"Anvil!" ultimately gives metal fans and haters alike an inside look at the unwavering drive that possesses the musicians that make it and the fans that support it. There are hundreds of bands like Anvil, who may never quite get that big break or career-spanning documentary, but at least they can take comfort in knowing that their story has now been told, albeit vicariously.
Monday, July 27, 2009
TOP TEN WORDS THAT SOUND LIKE TOOL SONG TITLES BUT ARE NOT.
10. Duodenum
9. Vivisection
8. Oscillate
7. Angioplasty
6. Cum Bucket
5. Algorithm
4. Thesaurus
3. Coagulation
2. Vaginosis
1. Trapezoidal
9. Vivisection
8. Oscillate
7. Angioplasty
6. Cum Bucket
5. Algorithm
4. Thesaurus
3. Coagulation
2. Vaginosis
1. Trapezoidal
Top Ten Possbile Song Titles For The Upcoming Rhianna-Chris Brown Duet
Another older one i'm lifting from my MySpace page....this would have been extra awesome if the rumored duet actually happened....
11. Smack My Bitch Up
10. Sunday Bloody Sunday
9. Hemorrhage In My Hands
8. Under My Thumb
7. Beat On The Brat
6. Only Women Bleed
5. Ain't That A Kick In The Head
4. Love Hurts
3. The First Time Ever I Slapped Your Face
2. Scar Tissue
1. Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' (possibly reworked as Sluggin' Punchin' Beatin': pending legal clearance from Steve Perry)
11. Smack My Bitch Up
10. Sunday Bloody Sunday
9. Hemorrhage In My Hands
8. Under My Thumb
7. Beat On The Brat
6. Only Women Bleed
5. Ain't That A Kick In The Head
4. Love Hurts
3. The First Time Ever I Slapped Your Face
2. Scar Tissue
1. Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' (possibly reworked as Sluggin' Punchin' Beatin': pending legal clearance from Steve Perry)
Dance With The Dead In My Dreams...
So i decided to just copy and paste my review of the Slayer-Manson show i caught in California a couple weeks ago.....
I caught Marilyn Manson and Slayer last night in Devore, CA on the Liquid Sphincter Rockstar Energy Drink Corporate Cash-In Mayhem tour. Got there about 630pm so i was a bit late to catch anything on the two side stages. I wanted to check out Cannibal Corpse but oh well...
When you sit through even 30 minutes of bore-fests like Killswitch Engage and Bullet For My Valentine, you really appreciate Slayer's live show. They are still like an air missile attack set to music. Just brilliant. Setlist was like a compressed "best of" with a couple surprises thrown in..
this is a rough draft, i might be a little mixed up about the order of songs...
Darkness Of Christ
Disciple
Jihad
War Ensemble
Psychopathy Red
Chemical Warfare
Mandatory Suicide
Ghost Of War (surprise)
Hell Awaits
Dead Skin Mask
Born Of Fire (another surprise)
Angel Of Death
South Of Heaven
Raining Blood (Or as Gina calls it, Raining Men...Hallelujah.)
Some guy crept on stage in front of Tom and honestly got dropped in one quick punch by Old Man Araya before security pushed him into the pit. Very funny.
During the double-bass drum break in "Angel", Dave Lombardo plays about four times longer than he used to. That son of a bitch is still great.
Jeff Hannemann has a guitar with the Heineken logo that says Hannemann. Cute.
Kerry King still looks he could skull-fuck a rabid pit bull.
The crowd on the lawn where i was were among the scariest people ever. I think they all came from Spahn Ranch. Mosh pits & Bonfires everywhere with the smell of burnt plastic cups which i am still coughing from. One guy moshed thru the fire with his underpants around his ankles and crashed into our friend and i think his python dick left her with a bruised leg. Very ugly women with their tops off. Lots of loud shirtless drunk guys who probably just got released from prison that very morning.
Then a very pudgy, Vegas-throated Manson came out and bored the audience to tears. If his show got any better after half an hour, i wouldn't know. I was already on I 15 north by that time. There were still drunk guys yelling "SLAYER!!!" during his set which made absolutely no sense to me.
I never thought it was fair to compare MM to Alice Cooper, but dear Lord, has he got miles to go before his show ever gets half as entertaining as The Coop's.
All in all, a splendid time. No one...absolutely no one works a crowd into a satanic lather like The Slayers.
Hail Satan!!
I caught Marilyn Manson and Slayer last night in Devore, CA on the Liquid Sphincter Rockstar Energy Drink Corporate Cash-In Mayhem tour. Got there about 630pm so i was a bit late to catch anything on the two side stages. I wanted to check out Cannibal Corpse but oh well...
When you sit through even 30 minutes of bore-fests like Killswitch Engage and Bullet For My Valentine, you really appreciate Slayer's live show. They are still like an air missile attack set to music. Just brilliant. Setlist was like a compressed "best of" with a couple surprises thrown in..
this is a rough draft, i might be a little mixed up about the order of songs...
Darkness Of Christ
Disciple
Jihad
War Ensemble
Psychopathy Red
Chemical Warfare
Mandatory Suicide
Ghost Of War (surprise)
Hell Awaits
Dead Skin Mask
Born Of Fire (another surprise)
Angel Of Death
South Of Heaven
Raining Blood (Or as Gina calls it, Raining Men...Hallelujah.)
Some guy crept on stage in front of Tom and honestly got dropped in one quick punch by Old Man Araya before security pushed him into the pit. Very funny.
During the double-bass drum break in "Angel", Dave Lombardo plays about four times longer than he used to. That son of a bitch is still great.
Jeff Hannemann has a guitar with the Heineken logo that says Hannemann. Cute.
Kerry King still looks he could skull-fuck a rabid pit bull.
The crowd on the lawn where i was were among the scariest people ever. I think they all came from Spahn Ranch. Mosh pits & Bonfires everywhere with the smell of burnt plastic cups which i am still coughing from. One guy moshed thru the fire with his underpants around his ankles and crashed into our friend and i think his python dick left her with a bruised leg. Very ugly women with their tops off. Lots of loud shirtless drunk guys who probably just got released from prison that very morning.
Then a very pudgy, Vegas-throated Manson came out and bored the audience to tears. If his show got any better after half an hour, i wouldn't know. I was already on I 15 north by that time. There were still drunk guys yelling "SLAYER!!!" during his set which made absolutely no sense to me.
I never thought it was fair to compare MM to Alice Cooper, but dear Lord, has he got miles to go before his show ever gets half as entertaining as The Coop's.
All in all, a splendid time. No one...absolutely no one works a crowd into a satanic lather like The Slayers.
Hail Satan!!
Is There Anybody Out There?
Okay. Here we go.
I've been wracking my brain for months on just saying "Fuck it, let's get started" and creating my own personal forum to bore myself and my loved ones with things i think about from day to day that i cannot seem to process and make into reality fast enough.
Here is my humble attempt at trying to be more productive with my free time.
Expect a lot of really strange random bits of humor regarding things i see around me. Also i'm going to be rattling on ad nauseum about music, films, TV, politics, culture, people and other things i simultaneously hate and love.
Thanks to any of you stopping by to check me out. I appreciate your support. I'm gonna try and make this a daily routine one way or another.
Peace Out,
Mikey
I've been wracking my brain for months on just saying "Fuck it, let's get started" and creating my own personal forum to bore myself and my loved ones with things i think about from day to day that i cannot seem to process and make into reality fast enough.
Here is my humble attempt at trying to be more productive with my free time.
Expect a lot of really strange random bits of humor regarding things i see around me. Also i'm going to be rattling on ad nauseum about music, films, TV, politics, culture, people and other things i simultaneously hate and love.
Thanks to any of you stopping by to check me out. I appreciate your support. I'm gonna try and make this a daily routine one way or another.
Peace Out,
Mikey
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