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gavin enters ultraparodoxical phase
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| Unleashing the inner movie critic |
[Jul. 6th, 2008|02:09 pm] |
Been on a mainstream movie kick lately, catching up with all the stuff I should've seen months ago. Mainly I've been doing this because I've been hungover a lot, going to sleep at 5 am and waking up at noon--finally that rock star life I've dreamed of. Well, acting like that ends in a week--new job editing financial reports. Seems mindless enough so I can concentrate on my writing (I've been pretty prolific lately--NYC has set the creative juices on fire). The problem with my previous job as a reporter was that it zapped me of my urge to write--well, to be fair, managing the Alpha Order had a similar effect (hear me now--I vow never to manage a band again). But trying to make the world of corporate relocation exciting was taxing--I succeeded (I think), but it was a strain.
Anyway... To the movies...
JUNO--People don't talk like that, not a quip every five seconds. The dialog is extremely stagey in a college theater way (actually, it reminds me a lot of a couple student-written productions I was in at Mary Washington). And all the characters speak the same way (it's the same problem I have with Brian K. Vaughn, the writer of Y: The Last Man); the actors lend decent characterizations, but they can't escape the building blocks of the dialog... Stagey dialog can be used for good effect (I'm a sucker for that Raymond Chandler film noir dialog--people never spoke like that either, but every line made me smirk. Probably it was the combination of dialog and Bogey.) but I think here I'm just annoyed by it... Reminds me of people I considered too clever by half--I heard about Diablo Cody's egomaniacal press campaign. She seems like the poster child for self aggrandizement (you really have to wonder about someone who goes by the moniker Diablo) and it's reflected in her writing. And the voiceover--beyond unnecessary.
That being said, the film has a ton of laugh out loud moments, which I must give half-credit to Cody and the other half to a superiour cast. I honestly wasn't blown away by Ellen Page in Hard Candy (thought she didn't bring enough depth to the role, but that could partially be blamed on the screenwriter) but she owns this one. And really you couldn't pick better parents than Allison Janney and JK Simmons, two top notch character actors. But who really did it for me was Jason Bateman--I thought he did his likable everyman schlub in this one, but no, what a performance. The scenes between him and Page are the best part of the film.
I found the romance between Michael Cera and Page to be a bit weak (could one high school movie stray from the prom motif?), but appreciated the juxtaposition with Bateman and Garner's disintegrating marriage (which was a far stronger part of the film).
Am I prude that I think some of the dialog was way crass? Mainly too crass to be believable. I rolled my eyes for the most times since that Indiana Jones flick. There was just so much oh-so-cute shit: she gives birth with crazy striped socks, how off-kilter! Bring on the quirk!
Chris Reitman really knows how to accent the poignant notes. The scene where Jennifer Garner feels the baby kick within Page's womb really resonates--it was a scene that easily could have been cheesy, but a deft hand makes it moving instead. This is a decentfollowup to "Thank You For Smoking," which was good but flawed. He seems to have a much more gentle touch than his big-movie making father (Ivan, most famous for Ghostbusters, more infamous for a ton of crap--recently My Super Ex-Girlfriend).
BTW--The dialog during the guitar scene should have been: "Hey--is that a Les Paul CLASSIC? Do you like those more than the Customs?" That's how we talk in the field... I couldn't believe Garner called Bateman's faded Soundgarden shirt stupid--I had that shirt... I want that shirt back... 'Cause I'm alive in a Superunknown... (Chris Cornell is an American poet... All, right, I can't type that with a straight face. It sucks because I still want to rock out to Soundgarden, but most of those lyrics are AWFUL. I can't get by it anymore.)
Juno is like Garden State—it's a pretty rote indie film that a bunch of people were crazy about for some reason. The subject material was nothing all that new and there weren't really any odd twists (maybe that Cera and Page fell in love). It was okay, but once again I fail to understand the hype.
And god I hated the soundtrack--of course, because the movie was so successful and the soundtrack has two volumes or something that are being sold to soccer moms and yuppies everywhere, that rings the death knell for sissy indie folk. Break out your flannel 'cause the grunge is coming back! (I mean it this time.) On an added note, if Juno is all into punk circa '77, why the hell is this wussy music being played in the background? Why don't we have "Search and Destroy" or "Anarchy in the UK" for mood music? THAT would have been quirky. Could you imagine her delivering her baby to "Wasted" by Black Flag? I would have laughed my ass off. Instead we get this junk that sounds like it was recorded by a creative writing major in a dorm room on a guitar (or worse, an autoharp) that the "artist" learned three chords on yesterday while he or she sings in a fragile, childish voice. That's indie! WHOOOHOO.
One last note--I see what is holding back my musical career--I write songs with too many chords. From now on, It's just Em to C major, or D to G... Never more than two.
I AM LEGEND--Man, you just say the word post-apocalyptic and I'm there. Dystopian future--I have to watch it. I don't know why I have this addiction to certain types of sci-fi, but I tend to be more lenient towards bad dialog or shifty plotting. I really enjoyed I Am Legend because it actually moved me--that may sound horribly lame, but I was near tears during certain scenes (I don't want to give stuff away--there was actually one twist that devastated me). Will Smith is just fantastic--the man is a great screen presence and balances humor and gravitas like an acrobat. I'll watch him in almost anything (I really want to see Hancock--I hear it ultimately underachieves, but the premise is mighty bold and Will Smith is a great choice in the lead). The second key factor is Akiva Goldsman, screenwriter, who has written some turkeys (Batman and Robin) and then some fantastic stuff (A Beautiful Mind). He and Smith teamed up for I, Robot, another sci-fi movie that was surprisingly smart and very entertaining (though the mystery was quite obvious) and the screenplay here spends only so much time with Night of the Living Dead-style running from the zombies. Instead, the story is focused on Smith and while he tries to save the world his psyche is shattered--he is falling apart and barely holding the threads together. But this is not forced, thanks to Smith and director Francis Lawrence, who surprised me behind the helm of Constantine. Sure, it had nothing to do with the awesome graphic novel and it suffered from a bad case of Keanu Reeves (actually, he wasn't so bad and neither was Shia LeBeouf--though Rachel Weisz, the supporting cast of awesome character actors, and even Gavin Rossdale were all far better), but it was a well-directed piece of schlock--looked gorgeous and Lawrence's music video roots gave the film a kinetic energy. Lawrence's NYC is haunting, and the action scenes are arresting--he has a wonderful sense of timing, knows just how to get your adrenaline pumping and then throws in a pause to shake you (John Woo's Hong Kong movies were much the same way). I'm much curious to see what he does next.
I cannot let slip though how awful the CGI was--the zombies looked like characters from a Playstation 2 game (one of the Resident Evils). Personally, I have a theory that they used extremely fake looking zombies to escape an R rating from MPAA; if you blow creatures that don't look human, the MPAA won't slap you with an R (hence why the Lord of the Rings movies, while quite violent, scored PG-13s--they're slicing and dicing orcs, not humans). Let it be known--I fucking hate the MPAA; I shed no tears when Jack Valenti passed away. Watch "This Film is Not Yet Rated" and if you're a lover of cinema, it will infuriate you. I'll post another blog about my hatred towards that group... The other thing that fell flat was the religious angle--there was definitely a Job vibe that I wished the screenplay had used better. The scene with Anna talking about god's plan could have been great, but the actress couldn't sell the dialog--it was pretty weak.
SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER!!!
As for the ending, I think some people didn't like it, but I thought it was the only way the movie could end. He finished his task, he had nothing left to live for. Everything had been taken from him and finally the remnants of his old life were destroyed. There were butterflies all throughout the film--this is why I wish they handled the religious angle better. It was suggested (well, hammered on a little bit with Anna) that some kind of force was guiding him, but it was handled really awkwardly. Maybe they were worried about coming off as too Christian... Maybe they were worried about making the Signs of zombie films. Anyway, not a perfect film but better than your typical mainstream flick.
THE SAVAGES--Laura Linney, I will follow you to the ends of the earth... Any actor who can steal a film from Phillip Seymour Hoffman deserves a medal. I don't want to say anything more than this was a fantastic film and you should watch it immediately.
So yeah--I'll try to include more updates from the field. Enjoy yourselves--gd |
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| Response to Michael Gerson |
[Apr. 16th, 2008|11:56 am] |
I don't know why, but I've been haunting comment boards lately: political, pop music, etc. Perhaps it's to avoid working on this story about selecting expatriates to go on assignment to Africa, but some of it has to do with the establishment press' pretty ridiculous coverage of Obama's bitter comment. The Washington Post seems to be the guiltiest party, with Chris Cilizia (sp?) of The Fix writing one post after another about this idiocy. I actually called him a hack in the comment section; hackery is a tradition among campaign journalists. In particular, though, it's obvious there has been a lull in real campaign news, and nothing seems to interest readers lately like the campaign, according to the publishers, so the reporters are willing to turn any molehill into a mountain to reach quota of posts or fill a front-page column. Hence this bitter business—reports from the trail suggest the voters in blue-collar Pennsylvania, the only people whose opinions really matter in this case, don't care. Hell yeah, we're bitter.
For some reason this Michael Gerson column set something off in me. I think it's no surprise that I don't like Gerson; I can never make up my mind if he's a naive fool or a half-assed manipulator, but I recognize he's a shill and little more. I wrote this comment, but a Post error wouldn't let me post it. So I share it with you:
First, I would love Gerson to explain the "tradition of black liberation that views all of American life through the prism of pigment."
The message Gerson really is trying to send, which will be echoed throughout the campaign—this is the new Southern strategy: If this black man is elected president, he will treat whites unfairly. You can already see this sentiment being echoed on comment boards, trying to scare white voters—Obama makes Malcolm X look like Bryant Gumbel! Hence all the namedropping of Marx lately—Obama's crazy left wing! He'll double affirmative action, he'll kick white people out of their homes. He'll make us all start painting our skin with shoe polish to live! Heavens to Betsy!
What a crock.
But onto Gerson's main argument—Obama is arrogant. "I'm better than that." No, Gerson has managed to dumb down a complicated argument to push a GOP talking point (sadly, a Clinton one at the moment); Obama's sin is pride, in his opinion. Figures that Gerson would be a chief arguer of this point.
If we break it down, Gerson is really arguing against intellectualism--instead of acknowledging that Obama is analyzing a situation (and not putting himself above it, which is Gerson's addition), he is criticizing Obama's message for not being simple, black and white, a soundbite. It's not easily digestable, and neither are the challenges this country faces. But Gerson and his crew have been telling us for god knows how long that it's either this or that; you're with us or against us.
"God and guns, bitterness and bigotry all somehow distract Middle America from real issues of justice"—that's Gerson's soundbite analysis, and it's not what Obama said. He suggested that people who feel they have no control over their economic circumstances (and nowhere did he suggest they don't understand their lack of power) turn to overzealousness in many forms (he left out sports, music, etc.—he was speaking to a liberal group that probably is scared of gun activists and the overly religious, trying to quell these notions).
Sound clumsy? Convoluted? Welcome to real life. It's something the soundbite press has trouble reformatting into mouth-sized pieces. But why do they format it that way? Because they think we're all STOOPID (as does Gerson). Tell me who the real elitists are?
To paraphrase Jon Stewart, Obama speaks to us about issues as if we were adults, and encourages us to examine how we feel. How does Gerson analyze that? "He's callin' you dumb!"
No. Gerson is sniggering behind your back about what sheep the American people are.
[end] |
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[Mar. 28th, 2008|10:10 am] |
I spent at least two hours last night practicing scales and learning jazz riffs and chords. I learned a sweet little Chet Baker tune (the name escapes me) that was a quintessential swing jazz progression. A few months ago I downloaded a series of jazz chords. Why this sudden interest in jazz? Don't worry about me becoming a new Pat Metheny or starting a fusion band (although Albatross does have its fusion elements—shhh!!!); I still don't really have a taste for bebop and such (though I do really enjoy Thelonius Monk).
But reading guitar tablature of infamous jazz wankers confirmed my suspicions: jazz guitarists (and jazz players in general) think in a very different way than I do when constructing progressions, melodies, and solos. I don't think my way of composing is by the numbers rock'n'roll, but it does have its roots firmly ingrained in the soil of classic rock (with nods here and there to 80s and 90s indie). Bucking up on jazz theory is bound to improve my technique (never a bad thing) and encourage me to push boundaries in my songwriting.
This is a transitional period in my life. Those few of my regular readers wondering why this is no longer the Alphabetical Order blog should know that the band is folding after four years. We'll just say we're all moving in different directions—if you're not satisfied by that answer, just talk to any of us, but I think you'll get an answer along the same lines. Our goals had drifted away from each other, and while the music was stronger than ever, the commitment did not match. These things happen.
With the disintegration of one of my bands (Albatross will be releasing its debut album in the next few months), something that I'd put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into, I realized that Washington, DC, doesn't offer much for me anymore. I pretty much stopped reading DCist.com about a year back and I aid it was because the writing had gone downhill, but in hindsight I realize it was because the scene didn't seem very interesting to me anymore. Musically, I haven't been satisfied by what I see going on here for a long while; I thought I wasn't going out to see local music anymore because I was getting older, but I think now it's more that nothing appealed to me. Not to say that there are no good bands in DC—there are very few that excite my narrow taste. I've been bitching about indie rock in general for several years, how I think the intensity of Mission of Burma, Black Flag, and all the other 80s bands that really started the indie movement has waned, given in to commercialist ethos that means, like mainstream music, everything fits a formula. The current craze seems to be retro-psychedelia with choir-like (or Beach-Boy-eque) harmonies atop swarms of reverb—it really reminds me of late 60s American psych rock, which I never really cared for. Across the pond, I thought there was a lot more soul to the zaniness produced by Syd-Barrett-led Pink Floyd and the Soft Machines (in the mainstream, both the Beatles and the Rolling Stones put out fantastic efforts that got about ankle deep into psychedelia). But I'm just being critical.
To stop myself from rambling, I have a lot of friends in New York City, some who have been encouraging me to join the scene for quite a while. I think the time is right, and I will be moving to the city in July. Hence all the practice, to prepare for what may come next. I believe the atmosphere in NYC will be more conducive toward my musical muse, and foster experimentation. Or I'll end up in some shitty indie pop band, strumming seemingly endless eighth notes.
More details will slip throughout the weeks. The Alphabetical Order is dead; long live the Order! |
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[Mar. 10th, 2008|10:18 am] |
Have to admit I could sympathize with this cat below yesterday when we played a (really fun) show in front of TGI Friday's in Foggy Bottom yesterday.
I might have had to pee, but my bladder was frozen solid so I couldn't tell (all right, that's hyperbole).
Last night at my friend Diane's house, I was chatting about our show in front of (not in) TGI Friday's, and Jeff asked me if it qualified as the worst gig I ever played. I had to say no—the worst show I ever had (as an adult—in high school I played a truly atrocious talent show with a few friends who didn't tune before we went on) was Jamie's General Bean in Centerville, VA, a little coffee shop that I'm sure is no more. It was a quaint place with bags full of fake coffee beans passing as decor; it was no place for my power trio to invade, with my ferocious old Fender half stack, my drummer's countless cymbals (he had at least 10), and my bass player... Well, his setup was surprisingly modest, especially for a bass player.
Of course the guy working behind the counter kept asking us to turn down because we were killing the ears of those standing in the sliver of a store. I'm sure my gaggle of stoner friends from Northern VA Community College (where I was trying to rebuild my GPA after dropping out of Mary Washington) made the barista nervous as well. But this gig was hellish for one simple reason—the microphone was trying to electrocute me. Seriously, the thing wanted to light me up like a Christmas tree.
Now many times when I play a show, the microphone might shock me a little, make my lips tingle—this happens in particular with me because I'm a mic eater and I'll slobber all over the screen (I typically feel bad for the person who uses it after me). There was a time I knew the science behind the shock, but that place in my mind has been replaced with the statistics of the Rock of Love women. It goes something like this: snobby guitarists similar to myself prefer older tube amps, and the grounding on these may need to be the same as the PA, otherwise electricity will shoot through your body (which is a great conductor) between guitar and mic. This happens a lot in places with shitty wiring and basements. Perhaps you remember that scene in "Almost Famous" when Billy Crudup gets blown away when he's playing guitar and attempts to sing? Yeah, that's on a large power scale (people have died from such occurrences—it's not quite as glamorous as the overdose or drowning in your own pool); I didn't go flying over the sacks of fake beans, but I did jump and twitch a bunch.
I suffered through half a set of getting slapped by the microphone. Afterward, a friend told me three to four inch bolts were visible jumping from the screen to my lips, followed by my recoiling in pain. Actually, the audience was quite impressed that we kept going despite the pummeling I was taking. However, after five songs, I'd had enough; tears were streaming down my face and I was on the verge of bawling. "I can't do this anymore," I whined in the most pathetic voice to my bandmates.
My bass player walked over to me and said, "Hey Gavin, have you checked the ground switch on your amp?"
It was as if he had punched me in the face; I reached behind my amp and flipped the toggle marked "GROUND." I slowly pushed my face back toward the mic and touched my quivering lip to its head.
Nothing.
I closed my eyes, sighed, turned back to my drummer and said, "Next tune." I didn't get shocked once for the rest of the night.
So I delivered myself a windfall of pain because it hadn't occurred to me to check the back of my amp the first time a jolt of electricity knocked me upside the head. Something I should have known from past experience. Let me tell you now that whenever I received a shock from the mic, I furiously switch my ground and plug the PA into another circuit...
TGI Friday's was nothing like that; in fact, I had a great time. Perhaps it was because we opened up with "Adderall" (it was our soundcheck and then we said screw it, let's go) and that number always gets me wound up. Jesse was in the audience and said the sound was cavernous, but songs were distinctive. Ash pounded ferociously and was dead on despite having trouble hearing, while Gabe's voice was terrific and Kate was thumperific as ever. And me, I was just enjoying my new Marshall 2X12 cabinet, which is punchy as all getout—I need to get the distortion and clean levels straight because clean was ridiculously loud. I excitedly took out my SG, which I hadn't played in concert for a while (in favor of my new Jaguar), and it sounded awesome with a fresh set of Slinkies on it.
We debuted "Altiplano," a new track Jesse described as pop punk and Kate called "Suffragette City, Part 2." Unfortunately, the lyrics reel out at a breathless pace and I still need to get them down—there's a ton of them and I switched the order of the verses a few times before settling on the current version. Altiplano is the name for the high plateaus in the Andean regions of Bolivia, Peru, and Argentina. I came across the word in a story I was editing, and for some reason it conjured images of ghost-like creatures jumping from plain to plain. I knew what music it had to go to immediately—a fast, straightforward, and major key number that I had been playing around with—the lyric, "My thoughts spring out onto this plain" became the opening line, and was later changed to "My thoughts spring out from this abscess" to rhyme with "Make friends and coalesce." The song describes creatures embarking on a great race, and these creatures are created when our thoughts disembark from our bodies, stripped of all facets of the material world. It's meant to be a companion piece to "Endymion," the title of which is taken from a Greek myth about a king who sleeps forever. The speaker in that song sleepwalks through his days, living in memories, and realizes he has nothing to look forward to while his memories are fading away. Happy stuff, no? See, having a dull job can be inspiring.
Anyway, I want to thank Dana and Dave for hooking us up with the TGI Friday's gig after GWU fucked us out of playing the Jack Morton Auditorium. We were tempted to pull out, but I'm glad we didn't considering what a great time we had. Besides, I got to meet director Alex Cox (REPO MAN!) and see a bunch of indie films bustling with raw talent. Call me content!
gavin |
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| OUCH |
[Mar. 5th, 2008|11:26 am] |
People have been talking a great game about Ghostland Observatory, but this Pitchfork review skewers them: http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/record_review/49081-robotique-majestique . I have to admit, when I saw a video, I was bored after about 30 seconds. So the guy is androgynous (though not really; he kinda resembles a more boyish Chris Robinson with pigtails)? I mean, didn't the shock value of androgynous musical acts wear out in the 80s with Grace Jones and Boy George? At least Marilyn Manson was a bit more comical about it on the "Mechanical Animals" cover:
And long before, what about David Bowie and Lady Stardust?
The whole Ghostland Observatory thing seems kind of half-assed. A friend told me, "Dude, the keyboard player wears a cape!" To which I replied, "So does the schizophrenic homeless guy that screams every morning outside my apartment building." (Along those lines, at the corner of Mozart and Fuller NW last night, a woman was shouting that the lord Jesus Christ would smite whomever passed her. She was gone when I returned from practice, and I'm yet to be smited...)
Anyway—the gimmick seems pretty cheap, but if that's all it takes to get a record deal these days... I like the Dresden Dolls image a lot more—those guys put on quite an amusing show. If only I didn't find their music so dull, but I never been one for epic, musical-theater-style piano numbers.
Lastly, Pitchfork gave the Gutter Twins album a decent review: http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/record_review/49045-saturnalia OnionAV was kind of tepid on it. Gabe said he heard them play KEXP and they were terrible, but I saw Dulli and Lanegan tour together last year and it was great (also, I don't think Gabe is a fan of the Afghan Whigs, Screaming Trees, or Dulli's and Lanegan's solo work, so I wouldn't expect high praise—I think it's a little too edgy for his pop sensibilities). Jenny, Kate, Jesse and me are hitting up the show at the 9:30 on Mar. 20.
gavin d'order |
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| Yes, we are playing TGI Friday's |
[Mar. 5th, 2008|10:17 am] |
I was quite excited when I first received a letter from Dana of the DC Independent Film Festival inviting us to play in the festival's first ever musical celebration (well, not film musicals, thank goodness—many may know my disgust at such things). Our show was to be free on a Sunday evening at the Jack Morton Auditorium at GWU.
Well, there was a bit of a snafu, our show has been relocated to TGI Friday's at 2100 Pennsylvania Ave. Yeah, we're not as enthusiastic about it as we once were, but still, I'm happy to be involved in the film fest. And we'll grab some of them crazy mixed drinks before we play (okay, more likely afterwards since we don't really drink much before shows these days, not after one too many horribly drunken shows), which we certainly couldn't do at the auditorium. Does the Jack Morton Auditorium have Sesame Jack Daniel's Chicken Strips? I DON THINK SO!
See, we at The Alphabetical Order, despite our typically downer lyrics on how codependency destroys a person's uniqueness and creates deformed two-headed beasts known as "couples," are optimist, always thinking that the glass is half full, or that if we chug what's left in the glass, we can go order another.
Also, I'm quite excited to see director Alex Cox, who made cult classics such as Repo Man (f'in crazy) and Sid & Nancy, before being pretty much ostracized in Hollywood because of his anti-imperialist (layered with Reaganite criticism) Walker. He will be discussing his films before showing his latest work, Searchers 2.0, which sounds like a Tom Robbins plot thrown onto the big screen, on Thursday, Mar. 6 at Jack Morton Auditorium. Check out the details: http://www.dciff.org/ .
On a political note, I'm pretty down about Clinton's wins in Texas, Ohio, and Vermont... I read that Obama is still in front, but this stupid contest is going to drag on and on. I honestly don't think she'll make a good president; in particular, I don't like her universal health care proposal. And there's no way she'll accept being Obama's vice prez... Aye yi yi...
Still, she's better than McCain, who has lost it (if he ever had it).
gavin d'order |
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| Old punkers don't die... They just start listening to indie rock |
[Feb. 29th, 2008|01:03 pm] |
Fun Onion blog that tries to answer the question about why do punk kids lose their nerve and start listening to the sissiest of sissy indie rock? The writer acknowledges that he didn't succeed, and more discussion erupts in the comments.
I figured "indie rock" was going to become as meaningless a term as "alternative" (with the irony being that alternative a la Nirvana was the fruit of indie rock). That Michael Azzerad book, "Our Band Could Be Your Life" is a fascinating read, especially when you compare what is called indie today with what it was in the early 80s.
Thing is, when I was growing up, I was not a punk. I loved classic rock: The Beatles, The Who, David Bowie, and in particular a band no cool kid is allowed to like—Pink Floyd. And I love Pink Floyd—they're still my number one. Not just "cool" Pink Floyd, before Syd Barrett went off the deep end, but all of it, including the post-Roger Waters albums. People groan all the time when they hear that—"but, but, how can you be so into Minor Threat and Mission of Burma and like PINK FLOYD?!?!" Sometime I'll have to write about how wrong most people are in their perception of Floyd—you really have to wonder how one of the best-selling albums of all-time is an existential concept record about how modern life will drive you insane.
But anyway—I didn't really start listening to punk, and then the early 80s DC and LA stuff, till my 20s. This could be because in high school I became entranced with Nine Inch Nails and then Radiohead, with some flirtations in goth, followed by a triphop/electronica phase, followed by an intense love of underrated 90s acts (Sunny Day Real Estate, HUM, Chavez, Jawbox) that formed the building blocks for TAO. As I tried to branch out from my engagement from those groups, I found myself intrigued by their predecessors.
Punk never attracted me when I was younger for two reasons: one, I found it melodically dull (most of the chord progressions are frighteningly simple, the rhythms are all the same, and most times there is shouting for vocals, leaving no melody atop the fury) and two, I was less angry in high school and more depressed, so the self-loathing and internal hatred of something like NIN was quite appealing (he hates himself too! We're soul mates!). (I've always considered Radiohead the logical extension of Pink Floyd, as I considered Pink Floyd the logical extension of the Beatles—there, now you understand my wittle mind.) But for some reason, in my early 20s, I found I was loving dirty, sloppy punk, probably because of its visceral nature—so much energy, so much emotion (even if it was all anger)!
It's emotion I don't think I was feeling in any other music at the time, or maybe I was attracted to the negative quality about it. The bands that were big in indie felt very cold—the Strokes, Interpol, etc. But man, the fire in those punks... At Run for Cover last year my favorite act was a reunion of a bunch of late 80s DC straight-edge bands—while they scared most of the crowd, I was wowed by the mania. It was almost as if I was hanging out at DC Space twenty-odd years earlier.
This is not to say most indie rock these days is not emotional—it's just not the immediacy or intensity I crave (and also, a lot of it is quite simple in terms of songwriting—the trend of the last several years has been to write four chord songs with everything but the kitchen sink thrown on top of it. Personally I've always been more impressed when guitar, bass, and drums could sound ten times larger—without using a looper, just from the simple power of the songwriting and the musicianship. Locally I suggest Gist as a prime example). The Arcade Fire's music has a unifying feel to it, which I'm just not into.
Also, I have a theory I call the "blog phenomenon," in which members of my generation prefer music they can do other things too (blog). Background music, music you can tune out if you need to. Hence why so many young people at shows nearly drown the band out with talking... (My favorite review of "I Am Magically Happening!" called TAO music that forced you to pay attention.) But none of this is all that surprising considering we've been raised to multi-task—half the time when Jenny and I are watching TV we're also e-mailing or reading the news.
And yeah, the Onion blog nails it, when you grow older you crave less heavy, anti-everything music. But in addition, you tend not to care as much about music. First I let my subscription to Spin expire, then I stopped finding out the band members' names, and now I don't even look at the liner notes. With so many other things going on in my life, I just don't put the same time into music that I once did (having my own band also prevents me from investing as much time in others' music, as well as burns me out and makes me turn to other loves, such as literature and film).
The other thing about that article I wonder about is Heller's comment that indie rock has become so compartmentalized and bland, just like alternative a dozen years before. So what's next? I mean, there's obviously a ton of 70s pop influence in critical darlings these days (I swear that Yeasayer guy sounds like Loggins and Messina era Kenny Loggins), and I guess the quirky folk thing is still big... I think post-punk, even though it's been kicking around forever, might be the new term du jour... I don't think it wore out it's welcome with the Strokes and Franz Ferdinand, etc. But give it time... |
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| Jamnesty, Jet Age show, theater, and gear |
[Feb. 28th, 2008|11:52 am] |
Been a little swamped with work and band the last few days—no time to post...
The Jamnesty show last night was a'ight, a little sparse in attendance, but the kids still picked up cds, so no big complaints here. Apparently midweek is tough to get a crowd even at a university, and we're coming up on midterms. James from Maple was kind enough to come; love hanging out with that kid, he's a well of the most random knowledge—we got into a discussion about large stone houses in SubThe new material is sounding tighter and tighter, and I can't wait to add the even newer tunes—we'll probably feature one called "Altiplano" at the DC Independent Film Festival show on March 9 (see http://www.thealphabeticalorder.org/shows ).
Dumi RIGHT of Zimbabwe Legit handily worked up the audience (though many refused to rise from their seats)—if you're looking for DC hiphop, especially with a positive bent, I suggest you check out ZL. Bellman Barker has a really big sound, and their tunes are rather epic—their closing number was appropriately climatic, with a chorus of "whoas" thrown in for good measure. And Prabir and the Substitutes closed out the night with some peppy retro rock—I must say, Prabir is an amazing frontman, and quick with the quips. I'd kill for his bantering skills.
By the way, the Jet Age cd release—brilliant. I strongly suggest everyone check out, "What Did You Do During the War, Daddy?" a concept album that bluntly addresses the feeling of helplessness and inability to act many of us feel as our government steers the country in deleterious directions. Eric Tischler was marred by a cold, but he still belt it out while delivering some massive, dirty solos. Drummer Pete Nuwayser is Animal from the Electric Mayhem in human form—it's alternately sickening and awing to watch him behind the kit.
Besides the anthemic closing number, the best moment of the night came early: After the first song, Eric felt his phone ringing in his pocket and answered it, "Hey honey—I'm playing a show right now. Love you too!" He hung up, and announced, "This next song is a love song from a man to his wife." Perhaps it was planned (I don't think so) but it was quite sweet. In a way it's representative of The Jet Age—while their music may deal with darker themes, they're so damn enjoyable that you can't help smiling.
J Forte and the Secret Pop Band opened—they manufacture gems in three-and-a-half minute form, complete with superior musicianship. A little psychedelia was a nice touch on several tunes, and in general the raw tones mixed with pop craftmanship produced highly delectable dishes that went down the ear canal with lingering spice.
Oy, I'm a little burnt momentarily on music—tonight Jenny and I are seeing "Argonautika" at the Lansburgh theater—I haven't seen a play in forever, probably because we had a string of duds this fall (after a summer filled with amazing productions). This take on Jason and the Argonauts includes puppets and sounds like a winner—I have mixed feelings about the Shakespeare Theater Company because I feel their overinflated budgets encourages hideously overwrought set design. But when they're on, they're on—this summer's Hamlet was magnificent and Love's Labor's Lost (given a Beatles-inspired update) was clever and great fun.
Oh yeah, looks like we're sitting in on GWU's radio this Sunday... I'll let you know what's happening. Saturday, however, I'm doing a little music shopping—Austin, from Albatross, is demanding I give back his Ibanez Tube Screamer (TS-9)—unfortunately, it's become a essential to my sound, so I need to purchase my own. I'm trying to decide between getting a Keeley Modded TS-8 or the Green Line, a TS-8 copy with added features that many of my friends rock. Also, I'm switching out my Sunn 4X12 for a 2X12—I'm going to see if I can get a good trade; otherwise I'm thinking about an Avatar. The Red Racer guys had them and they were mighty crisp—plus the price is right. The Sunn is just too damn dark—I've been going for less that 90s HUM/Smashing Pumpkins giant bass tone lately for more of a middle-bodied classic rock tone. My Orange 1X12 is great for this, but having at least two speakers really muscles up your tone.
Till late,
gavin |
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| Thanks! |
[Feb. 24th, 2008|04:05 pm] |
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Thanks for all who came to the Red and Black last night--we had a blast playing with our old drummer Ben "Dover's" new band, The Art of Shooting, who overcame a rough mix and some um, bartender difficulties to put on a hell of a set. The same for Man in Gray, who had a monstrously intense set, followed by Must Love Trash, who proved to be pretty tight despite having a replacement drummer. Good times all around! |
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| Oscar madness? Please... |
[Feb. 23rd, 2008|03:24 pm] |
I watched a fascinating biography of Stanley Kubrick last night ("Stanley Kubrick: A Life in Pictures") that inspired me as an artist and encouraged me to embark on a Kubrick retrospective. Really, it made me remember why he has always been my favorite auteur—the last few years I wondered if my love of "A Clockwork Orange" was merely residual teenage angst, but watching clips and hearing others voice the same reasons I loved the film made me realize it's still my favorite. It's a brutal satire, shot by Kubrick at his apex and phenomenally acted by Malcolm MacDowell (technically, I think the book is better, but that's a conversation for another day).
During this documentary, I remembered that Kubrick only ever won one Academy Award--for Best Visual Effects on "2001." That just reconfirmed for me what absolute crap the Oscars are. Granted, two ballsy movies have been nominated for the top prize this year: "No Country for Old Men" and "There Will Be Blood" (the latter is my choice--absolutely brilliant with a touch of Kubrick brushed on here and there). But my money is that one of the good but less ambitious films, "Atonement" or "Michael Clayton," will bring home that garish statue.
So, if you're in DC, skip that junk and come join me in seeing J Forte and the Secret Pop Band and The Jet Age for the latter's cd release party at DC9 on Sunday at 9 pm. Far better entertainment, even if Jon Stewart's not hosting...
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 15th, 2006|10:41 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Office | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
My insurance took a few extra days to come through on my refill of antidepressants. I switched dosages in the middle of my last prescription so I ran earlier than the conglomerate expected me to. They threatened not to pay the lion's share, and since I take special drugs that a special pharmacuetical company with ridiculous amounts of cash stored up offshore (they all do that to avoid taxes) and it will be a few more years until cheapie generics are available, I caved and went cold turkey for a few days. Not fun.
When my insurance finally came through this morning, the pharmacist gave me a short lecture about taking the right dose, to which I nodded, struggling not to roll my eyes--abusing antidepressants has to be the dumbest thing in the world. I had a few friends in college steal a couple Prozac (before they threw me on the stronger stuff), cut it up, and snort it--I told them they were absolute idiots. Prozac usually takes a few weeks to a month to start having an effect.
I immediately popped the top and took my dosage (I do fiend a bit) and now I'm very loopy--I described it to my boss as a sustained nicotine buzz (to which he replied, "Cool"--he might be jealous). I imagine I'll feel pretty out of it all day, but that may be good for some Sonic Youth tonight. Mmmm... Sonic Youth.
Having a slight case of withdrawal the last few days has not been helpful. I'm still in a funk that The Alphabetical Order's drummer has taken off, leaving us high and dry for four upcoming shows, at least three of which I deem "high profile." Yesterday I found out our initial fill-in for two shows (!!!) next week is actually going to be in Canada. Now the great drummer hunt moves into the "desperate" phase...
Must work... |
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gavintao's journal
groggy
Show tonight!