Station To Station

 Kim Deal's side-project turned full-time job, the Breeders, has been a strange footnote of its parent band, the Pixies. 1993's "Cannonball" single made them one of the odder one-hit wonders of the grunge era. The band wasn't exactly grunge, just adored by grunge luminaries like Kurt Cobain. And the album "Cannonball" came from, Last Splash, went platinum in the US, something a Pixies album never achieved. No wonder Frank Black never let Deal write many Pixies songs.

She hasn't really written many Breeders songs either. The drug problems of Deal's sister, Kelley, have kept the Breeders out of the studio for much of the last two decades. The band's latest album, Mountain Battles, comes six years after the last one, and is only their fourth release overall. Despite the delays, it finds the band trading in the same kind of lo-fi indie rock they were on their first three albums. It's two parts Pixies, one part Sonic Youth.

And the Pixies-lite angle works well for Deal's reedy voice. What Deal sings is less important than how she sings it. It's quite easy to listen to the album without picking up on many of the lyrics. This is both a credit to Deal's emotive, but thin, voice and a disservice to her lyricism. The lyrics aren't bad, just unremarkable. Kelley Deal backs up Kim on most of the songs, and the harmonies are enjoyable. The interplay of vocals on "German Studies," for instance, is one of the song's strong points. I'm just not sure if I remember any of the words.

With production from frequent collaborator Steve Albini, Mountain Battles is best played as loud as possible. Albini's sonic trademarks (live recordings without much overdubbing, noisy guitars, lack of effects) benefit from being experienced at high volume. The music here flows from soft to loud, often within the span of a single song. The intimacy of the recording process is replicated on the album with aplomb. The experience can be likened to one of a band playing a live set in your living room.

Grade: B

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 7:55pm: I have a confession to make, one that could get me ejected from the “cool kids critic club:” I watched the first eight seasons of Big Brother. I had eight separate moments of weakness, and watched a show that can best be described with a shoulder shrug and a mild sigh. But at least it was a summer show, the sort of thing that‘s forgotten five minutes after the season ends. The winter writer’s strike, however, made a slate of reality programming a necessity. Big Brother 9 was launched at midseason, airing amidst leftover new episodes of, well, good shows. I watched the first week of episodes and felt dirty. And I haven’t look back since, well, tonight…

 8:03pm: “Previously, on Big Brother 9... Who will Natalie nominate for eviction?" I don't remember these people... at all.

8:05pm: It's day 49 in the house, which means these people have already lost their minds. It usually happens around day 3. 

8:06pm: Thanks, Natalie. I forgot God watched Big Brother and had a personal stake in who won.

8:08pm: "One of those idiots is going to win half a million dollars." Wiser words were never spoken. 

8:15pm: It's good to see that the game still comes down to an alliance of people who think they're "good" versus another alliance of people who think the first alliance is "stupid."

8:21pm: Hide and go seek makes about as much sense as anything. It's probably what I'd do if I were stuck in the Big Brother house. The hide part, at least.

8:31pm: The straight guy who did gay porn is trying to trick the girl who thinks God is rooting for her in the game into joining him in a secret alliance. So, the usual... 

8:32pm: Sharon pronounces "minority" with an extra "i." "Mianority." 

8:36pm: Didn't Gallagher copyright smashing watermelons? CBS may have an angry, unfunny, bald guy on their doorstep tomorrow morning.

8:44pm: Remember, God loves Natalie!

8:48pm: God-fearing Natalie is a woman of many talents! 

8:50pm: I really don't have anything against Natalie that I don't have against the other houseguests. The producers are focusing a lot of this episode on her, so what can I do? These people are ridiculous. 

8:57pm: Natalie has nominated James and Joshua for eviction. With a veto competition on the way, there's a chance that neither guy will go home. Both guys think they're a big threat, which is why they're up for eviction. At this point, I want to be up for eviction. At least this episode didn't have Julie Chen. I'm not sure I can take any more Chenbot 3000. Good night, folks!

Post script: Want to further keep up on the adventures of the Big Brother 9 gang? Check out SirLinksalot: Big Brother 9, where news and fansite info is linked in just one place. Handy!

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 07:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Does It Offend You, Yeah?-You Have No Idea What You're Getting Into

 Does It Offend You, Yeah? is a Reading-based electro quartet whose debut long player, You Have No Idea What You’re Getting Yourself Into, is a mish-mash of digitalized beats, Klaxons-esque nu-rave shouting, and distorted keyboards. The mix is familiar; there’s nothing here that the Chemical Brothers or Daft Punk haven’t done before. And there’s certainly nothing here that Justice or Simian Mobile Disco isn’t doing better now. Their name is self-parody and the album is beyond limp, but it’s just the sort of schlock that’ll sound good in a Guy Ritchie movie trailer. So, good on ‘em.

Grade: D+

Bauhaus-Go Away White

 Bauhaus weren’t around for very long the first time around, releasing four studio albums between 1980 and 1983. A few reunion tours appeared in the late 90s and mid-00’s to satiate the faithful, but only a soundtrack single and a live album marked those years. 2008’s Bauhaus reunion is even shorter. An album of first-takes recorded in two weeks, no tour, and a breakup is all we get. The album, Go Away White, is worth all the false starts and no-starts, however. The album is a churning mix of post-punk, early goth, and synth-pop. Front-man Peter Murphy still has a fantastic voice and the rest of the band (who also reunited their side project Love & Rockets recently) is in tip-top shape.

Grade: A-

The B-52's-Funplex

 Going into The B-52’s first album in sixteen years, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. What I got what a none-too-subtle update of the band’s signature new wave meets surf sound. Much like recent albums by contemporaries New Order and Duran Duran, Funplex retains a lot of the band’s original sound while glossing the whole thing with modern electronic sheen. It’s been a popular production method for the remaining bands of the new wave movement, and it’s hard to argue with. Funplex is an enjoyable album, if a little unoriginal and possibly even unnecessary.

Grade: C+

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 07:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

 Based on the bestseller by Ian McEwan, Atonement is a story of misunderstandings and lives ruined. Of love denied and love delayed. It’s the kind of story that doesn’t just tug at the heart strings, it severs them. Gorgeously shot and directed by Joe Wright (2005’s Pride And Prejudice), Atonement marries the stylistic beauty of a Merchant Ivory production to the utter tragedy of an Anthony Minghella film.

We are introduced to sisters Briony (Saoirse Ronan) and Cecilia Tallis (Keira Knightley), upper-class and untouched by the realities of England between the first two world wars. Briony is 13-years-old, caught somewhere between the fantasies of childhood and the confusions of a teenager. Cecilia is in college, where she pretends to barely acknowledge her family housekeeper’s son, Robbie Turner (James McAvoy). Robbie’s schooling is being paid for by Briony and Cecilia’s father, and Robbie is spending the summer gardening on the Tallis estate.

A sexually-charged moment between Cecilia and Robbie at a fountain is witnessed by young Briony, who misinterprets what she sees. Briony has a crush on Robbie, the elements of which are shown throughout the movie in flashback. She feels both betrayed and fearful for her sister. Later, Briony witnesses a sexual encounter between the two in the family library. She begins to think Robbie is a sexual predator. When Briony’s cousin Lola Quincey (Juno Temple) is raped, she falsely accuses Robbie of the crime.

Robbie is imprisoned, and eventually chooses to go to war instead of spending the rest of his life in jail. Cecilia has gone into nursing, abandoning her family, who still believe Robbie is a criminal. They reunite in stolen moments, refusing to succumb to the horrors of the war and Robbie’s criminal record. Briony (now played by Romola Garai) has realized her childhood follies and joined her sister in nursing. She attempts to reconcile with Cecilia and Robbie, the results of which are revealed in the present day (with Briony played by Vanessa Redgrave).

Atonement is adapted from novel to screen quite well, with the stylistic flourishes of Wright effective in making long, dialogue-free scenes intimately interesting. Robbie’s visit to a beach at Dunkirk is assembled as one long tracking shot, filmed in such a way to convey the horrors of war and the ennui of the survivors. His use of close-up photography and choice of color palates are very appealing. Atonement is visually stunning.

The performances are sublime, as well. Ronan earned a Best Actress in a Supporting Role nomination at this year’s Academy Awards. It’s well-deserved. She plays a complex role with relative ease. Knightly and McAvoy are fantastic, in roles well-suited to their skills. Knightly, in particular,  continues to impress with her fire, wit, and skill with dialogue.

Grade: A-

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

 Some time in the 1990s, Ministry’s Al Jourgensen promised (or threatened) a country music cover album. We even got a bit of a preview at one of Neil Young’s Bridge School Benefit concerts, when the band did a rather straightforward version of The Grateful Dead’s “Friend Of The Devil.“ Sadly, this rather intriguing record-to-be never surfaced. But now, at the twilight of his career, Jourgensen has recorded a cover album. Unfortunately, there is no country music in sight.

Recorded under the moniker “Ministry And Co-Conspirators” (presumably to stave off a small measure of embarrassment), Cover Up is, hands down, one of the worst covers albums of all time. Worse than those bargain bin “tribute” albums any successful band must suffer through. Worse than the oeuvre of William Shatner. Even worse than Duran Duran’s Thank You.

It takes the sheer awfulness of a project like this to point out how good we had it in the years between 1992’s brilliant Psalm 69 and 2007’s miserable The Last Sucker. Could it be that 2006’s Rio Grande Blood wasn’t an album’s worth of George W. Bush rants that were done better on earlier records? Perhaps 1999’s The Dark Side Of The Spoon wasn’t a misfire. Maybe even 1996’s Filth Pig wasn’t so bad. Cover Up lifts that album’s cover of Bob Dylan’s “Lay Lady Lay” in its entirety and is one of the two palatable tracks on the album (the other is also previously released, the Black Sabbath standout and live staple, “Supernaut”).

There’s just nothing too terribly exciting about the idea of present-day Ministry, complete with tinny percussion, electronic drums, and no bottom end (where in the world did you go, Paul Barker?), limply covering classic rock tunes. The Rolling Stones (“Under My Thumb”), Golden Earring (“Radar Love”), and Mountain (“Mississippi Queen”) are all present here, in miserable forms. Even worse, Jourgensen seems to have lost his voice in the last few years. The tracks he sings on lack power, and the guest vocalists (Fear Factory’s Burton C. Bell, Amen’s Casey Chaos) add nothing recording a chainsaw ripping into a oak tree wouldn’t have.

Cover Up is, sadly, supposed to be Ministry’s last album. It shouldn’t be, though. No band with this much of a legacy should go out like this. Cover Up is terrible, plain and simple.

Grade: F

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 05:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

 It’s an inevitability. Every rock band starts with a bang, with an album or single full of youthful exuberance. Something fresh and exciting that seems to hover over their career. For Oxford’s Supergrass, it was the 1994 single “Caught By The Fuzz.” The teenaged trio were thrust into the media center of the Britpop movement for a bit and even managed a hit single or three during the 90s (“Alright” and “Richard III” come to mind as standouts).

Another inevitability is that bands that stick around long enough tend to grow up. Even Tom Waits, who groused “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up,” grew up. For Supergrass, it was their fifth album, Road To Rouen, that cemented their transition from exciting up and comers to “mature” rock band. Supergrass, now a quartet, were growing up inside and outside of the studio. Parents were dying, cynicism was creeping in, and an appreciation of all things slow and melodic was taking hold. And sales suffered.

Fast forward a few years to the present and we’re greeted with the band’s sixth album, Diamond Hoo Ha. While still mature, thematically and musically, Diamond Hoo Ha is a bit of return to the more youthful moments of Supergrass’ back catalog. The ghostly ballads of Road To Rouen are now accented with rockier numbers. Tracks like “Bad Blood” and “345” positively bubble with crackling guitars, screaming choruses, and the kind of T. Rex meets The Buzzcocks theatrics we’ve come to expect from Supergrass over the years.

The low-key moments on Diamond Hoo Ha, like “Outside,” seem to have more life to them than any of the tracks on Road To Rouen. And the lows and highs are broken up quite nicely when the band’s quirky side rears it’s head on tracks like oddly mid-80’s Bowie rocker “Whisky & Green Tea” (“I’ve been watching, walking, talking dogs/Doing karate moves/Oh, being chased by Chinese dragons”).

If anything, Diamond Hoo Ha plays like a greatest hits set. There are moments that remind me of tracks from each of Supergrass’ previous albums. Only, these moments are handled quite nicely without the nagging awkwardness of nostalgia. Diamond Hoo Ha is a lovely album from a band segueing into maturity with ease.

Grade: B+

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 10:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A movie needs a great idea at its core, for starters. You build around that core with layers. The writing wraps around the idea and expands on it. A director internalizes the script and finds a way to present the idea in a way that is intriguing to the actors, who attempt to convey the idea to us, the audience. The cinematography, the music, the pacing: all important to the basic notion of conveying an interesting idea in a film.

Southland Tales, written and directed by Richard Kelly (of Donnie Darko fame), has that interesting idea at its core. It's a nice alternate history story, something that could have been cooked up by Arthur C. Clarke, or Greg Bear if we're feeling particularly difficult. The basic premise follows: Twin nuclear attacks on Texas in 2005 send America to war and the Patriot Act into overdrive. A "big brother" agency called US-IDent is keeping tabs on dissidents, including a group of  Neo-Marxists. Meanwhile, a German group called Treer has developed a new form of energy called "Fluid Karma," which is ripping a hole in space and time. These storylines and the characters involved in them begin to intertwine.

Or congeal, as it were. Because one of the many problems with Southland Tales is that the several hundred (it seems) plot points cloud the central idea of the movie. And when they come together, it’s with a resounding “Thud!” During the big reveal at the end of the film, I had to take a moment to say, “Oh, yeah, that’s what this movie was about!” Too many meandering subplots and too many superfluous characters just seem to hang around, taking up screen time without contributing much to the overall flow of the film..

There’s Justin Timerlake as Pilot Abilene, the narrator of the film. He’s a veteran of the Iraq War, disfigured by “friendly fire.” There’s Dwayne Johnson as Boxer Santaros, or Jericho Kane, or whomever he thinks he is at any given moment. Sean William Scott plays two characters, sort of. How about Sarah Michelle Gellar as an ex-porn star? How about a mini Saturday Night Live reunion? Amy Poehler, Jon Lovitz, Nora Dunn, Cheri Oteri, and Janeane Garofolo all appear. Mandy Moore? Check. Kevin Smith? Check. Miranda Richardson? Check. Wallace Shawn? Inconceivable! Bai Ling? Unfortunately, yes. Even the great Zelda Rubinstein pops in for a few scenes.

Yet half of the cast looks downright befuddled to even be there. Some try hard. I’m convinced that someday Johnson will do something magical on screen. But here he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with the little he’s been given. Christopher Lambert mostly looks around and makes a face. I’m sure that was infinitely more than the screenplay told him to do. The other half of the cast looks like they’re having a laugh. I’m convinced Moore was in on the joke the whole time, whatever the joke was.

Kelly is juggling a lot of balls in the air with Southland Tales. He’s aiming for political satire, with a healthy dose of science fiction. The problem is that the film isn’t particularly funny, just weird and awkward. The political elements aren’t especially biting, either. Did you know our civil liberties are being sabotaged? I read Time magazine, too!

One thing that should be noted: Despite misgivings, Southland Tales is indeed watchable. It is, by turns, fascinating, frustrating, dangerous, hilarious, embarrassing, and remarkable. And it is completely awful. It’s up for debate whether it’s a cult classic in the making or something that the cinematic world will attempt to forget. I claim the former.

Grade: D+

Posted by The Artful Lodger at 04:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)