My first review for Stylus is up today. It analyzes the little story of two young men, fortuitously named Wayne and Garth. I can assure you that last sentence makes no sense. In case, you were wondering why I’m reviewing a movie that came out 14 years ago, it’s for Stylus’ weekly Second Take column, which takes a look back at a film or album from the past. Check it out here:
In other news, I covered a Jurassic 5 show last week for Rap-Up Magazine, and while it wasn’t as abominable as the Mobb Deep show that I went to last month, it wasn’t exactly mind-blowing either. I’ve probably seen J5 more than any other act, rock or rap. This mainly has to do with the fact that I grew up in Los Angeles and if you grew up in Los Angeles and liked hip-hop , it was practically impossible not to end up at least a few J5 shows. I think this last concert was show seven and without a doubt it will probably be my last one. Since I’m pretty sure at this point Rap-Up decided not to run the review, I’m just going to post it below. Rest assured, I went very easy on J5 just because I used to be a huge fan of the group.
I’m definitely over that phase. I can’t knock their live show, as it’s easily one of the best in hip-hop, but I’ll say this much, if there’s anything more tired than rappers who rap about their coke-dealing ability, it’s rap groups who rap about how real they keep it. Especially ones that do collaborations with Dave Matthews. I understand that rappers have families to feed too but I also understand that Dave Matthews is a douche that has no place anywhere on a rap song. If they were going to try to sell out couldn’t they at least have gotten Chris Martin?
It’s fitting that Jurassic 5’s latest single of their new album, “Work it Out,” is a collaboration with Dave Matthews. In many ways, Jurassic 5 are the hip-hop version of Matthews. While I happen to find J5’s music infinitely more listenable than Matthews’ mind-numbingly dull brand of mellow-rock, Jurassic 5 have shaped their career along the same lines, as both make relatively safe, non-threatening, non-innovative music, popular among stoned wannabe hippie college kids. They both make the sort of music you could play at home in front of your parents and not have to cringe with every offensive lyric. But above all, Jurassic 5 most resemble Matthews in their dedication to producing a fan-friendly live show. And in that regard, the 5 (now actually a quintet with the departure of producer/DJ Cut Chemist) put on an entertaining performance at the House of Blues Sunset on Tuesday, July 25.
Indeed everything about Jurassic 5 is throwback, so it should come as no surprise that their live show partially paid homage to the greats of the past.Accordingly, the crew’s emphasis never veered from the essential basics of hip-hop: strong boastful rhyming, impressive DJ scratching from DJ-Nu Mark, now getting his opportunity to shine solo, and just a general reliance on the art of live performance, something increasingly foreign to younger rappers. As one might expect, Jurassic 5’s set was heavy on the group’s older catalogue as they fittingly came out to “In the Flesh,” off their first album, 1997’s eponymous EP. As always, their performance was tight, the four rappers in the group carefully timing their intros on each song seamlessly, as though they were passing a baton, an analogy that lended itself well to one of the performed songs, “A Day At the Races.”
The strongest part about the Los Angeles-based collective has always been their technical facility and on-stage this strength is only magnified. Every man in Jurassic 5 can rap—quite well. In particular, Chali 2NA stood out as always from the rest of the group. It’s no black eye on the rest of the group how much 2NA betters his peers, as 2NA is perhaps the most underrated rapper in hip-hop. On-stage, his well-crafted rhyme schemes, his powerful baritone voice and his towering persona, make him easily the group’s star. After all these years, the fact that he has yet to release his much-pushed back solo album is a true shame.
In many ways, Jurassic 5’s show was a homecoming of sorts for the rap journeyman having plied their trade over the last four years to crowds as diverse as The Warped Tour, Bonnaroo and Lollapalooza. And J5’s Los Angeles fan-base was wildly enthusiastic throughout the performance. Indeed, other hip-hop groups would be well served to take a page from J5’s antics, as the group never stopped for a moment, never devolved into some long-winded tangent about the nature of hip-hop and always kept the energy levels in the room high.
Yet on some levels, there was something missing from the performance. I’ve seen Jurassic 5 seven times previous, dating back to the pre-Quality Control Days and back when they were still new to the scene there was always something a little thrilling about seeing a Jurassic 5 show. Yet in 2006, 12 years after the group formed there is something a little surreal about a group dedicated to being throwbacks, still plying the same schtick after a dozen years. If I had never seen the group before, I’d inevitably decided that it was one of the best concerts I’d ever seen. Yet on some level, the group’s style hasn’t progressed since its inception and now that they’re on album four, the concept has grown a bit stale and dull for this former Jurassic 5 die-hard. It’s not necessarily from a lack of effort. The group is trying to change, as the new album features the aforementioned Matthews collaboration, not to mention beats from Miami-based hitmaker Scott Storch and former Nas collaborator Salaam Remi, yet these attempts fell flat on-stage, a bit too forced, a bit too calculated to win mainstream Black Eyed Peas-esque appeal. But hey, even though the group’s style may indeed seem Jurassic, a little musty, a little creaking, a little boring, they can still bring it on-stage better than 99 percent of rap crews making music today.Baseball cards have been in the news a whole lot over the past few weeks and I suspect it has to do with Major League Baseball and the baseball card manufacturer’s $7 million marketing campaign to remind a generation of children that baseball cards exist. I’m sure a whole lot of money on this campaign is directed towards PR reps to pester journalists to write stories about the decline of baseball cards and the hopes for the industry’s resurgence.
If nothing else, the efforts seem to have been generating a lot of press, as Slate’s Dave Jamieson wrote a great story on the baseball card industry last week, as did the LA Times.
Speaking of the LA Times, I’ve always been a big fan of the newspaper and generally regard it as the most underrated paper in America. Sure the NY Times has better op-ed columnists and a better front page and the Washington Post is obviously the Washington Post, but neither of them can mess with the LA Times’ sports section or Calender section, both of which I consider to be the best in the nation.
That being said, what in God’s name were the Times’ editors thinking yesterday when they allowed the entire front page of the Sunday Business section to be about non-local stories, particularly this one about the labor crisis in Minnestota’s iron ore industry.
It’s not like I have a problem with the story per se, but one of the most constant and valid critiques of the Times’ is that it isn’t local enough. With that in mind, there were and are plenty of opportunities for Times reporters to write a similar story about workers in Los Angeles. The old newspaper I wrote for, The San Fernando Valley Business Journal, addressed the issue of a graying and untrained local workforce on several different occasions, most notably here and here.
In a time where they’re supposedly desperate to cut costs, it seems a bit superfluous that the Times had to travel all the way to Minnesota to cover a trend that has little impact its own readers. All they had to do was ask any aerospace company in the greater Los Angeles area about the demographics of their workforce. I’m sure they’ll have a whole lot to say. As you’ve probably heard Miami Vice came in at number one this past weekend, grossing $25 million. Sure, that sounds good on paper, but if you factor in that that it had basically no competition this weekend other than a third week Pirates of the Carribbean, this opening can only be looked at as a disappointment, particularly considering their grosses are likely going to be way down next weekend, when the 13-18 crowd is going to be spending their money on Talledega Nights, the new Will Ferrell NASCAR film. Well, that and 24-year old bloggers.
I haven’t seen Miami Vice but now that Joey has savaged it mercilessly, I’m certainly not planning on it. But in my mind, this film made two crucial blunders. The first was the uninspired casting choices of Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell. If nothing else, Farrell proves that movie studios can’t create movie stars in this day and age. See Jude Law. Johnny Depp is a movie star. Jim Carrey is a movie star. Colin Farrell is not. Why? Because no one will ever go see a movie just because Colin Farrell is in it, Nicole Narain excluded.
The film’s second crucial error was to try to make it a serious film. You’re dealing with Miami Vice, people want to see neon, people want to see kitsch. This film should’ve been set in 1984 with full-on pastels and Ray-Bans. Check out the picture above. That’s awesome. Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx in dark suits, not so much. If they wanted to go serious, couldn’t they have just set the film in the mid-80s, using the Reagan Administration’s failed drug war as a contrast with Dubya’s failed war. In all likelihood, the film never would’ve been great but it could’ve been a whole lot of fun. Too bad.
There are times when I wish that Weird Al Yankovich was still in his prime because there’s a great song to be made making fun of Southern coke-rap music. I’m not sure when it was, but at some point over the past few years watching mainstream radio rap seemed to turn into the same thing as watching cartoons. Unbelievable, over-the-top and purely for laughs. I really wouldn’t even know where to begin criticizing the genre because I can’t take it seriously as music. Forgive me if I sound weird, I’ve been dealing with the ramifications of hearing to the Rick Ross CD for the first time. And wow, what a doozy.
If Southern Coke-Rap were Boy Band music, Riss Ross is would definitely be the O-Town of coke-rap. O-Town was one of the last groups of the boy-band trend. By the time they rolled around, boy band music like Southern Coke rap has already been saturated by success stories. T.I. would be the Backstreet Boys, hanging around for a few years without making a splash and then suddenly sailing to unseen heights for someone so minimally talented. Young Jeezy would seem to be N’ Sync of the genre, an instant and baffling success right out of the box. (Speaking of which, this might be the least surprising headline of all time.) Li’l Wayne would be 98 Degrees just because. And Rick Ross would certainly be O-Town. If you’ll recall, O-Town were the winners of an MTV Making the Band, much how Rick Ross has seemingly won Jay-Z’s never televised Making The Southern Rapper Show. The only difference being that while O-Town got a recording contract with Lou Pearlman, the evil mastermind behind The Backstreet Boys and N’ Sync, Ross got a contract with Jay-Z, the mastermind behind Jeezy.
At any rate, this album sounds like must’ve cost a fortune. Supposedly, Kanye West, Just Blaze, and Cool & Dre all did tracks for it and it shows. The beats are pretty good with a few exceptions and god knows how much Scarface must’ve cost to sample, but this might be the most empty album I’ve ever heard in my life. After a cursory listening of Port of Miami, here’s what I’ve learned about Rick Ross: he likes hustling, he likes dealing blow, he likes cars (a lot), and he likes ho’s. If you like hearing about spinning rims than this is the album for you. If you like guys who pronounce the name Ross, “Rowsssssss,” than you will probably like this album. If you like hearing rappers talk about Moet than you’ll think this CD is brilliant.
O-Town went triple platinum and I’m sure Rick Ross will manage to do the same. But hopefully, just like the squealing 13-year old girls who had sufficiently gottten their fill of puerile and saccarine songs about love by O-Town’s second album, hopefully people will do the same with Rick Ross. Every bubble has to burst.
It might be the most boring CD of the year. It might be the most boring CD I’ve ever heard in my life. Okay, moving onto more interesting news. Did anyone know that Ann Coulter was a huge deadhead. I know that the story’s a bit old, but if Lance Bass coming out of the closet is the least surprising story of the year, Ann Coulter admitting she’s a huge deadhead is the most.
But it gets even better, Jamband Magazine asks her what other music she’s into and she replies:
“All the usual – String Cheese Incident, Phish, Dave Matthews Band, Blues Traveler, New Potato Caboose. I can’t really tell you all the groups I like because have an iPod so have a lot of songs my friends send me and I never really know who I’m listening to. But I try to keep up with what the young people are listening to these days (I love saying that). There’s Jet, Cake, Outkast, 50 Cent, Black-Eyed Peas, Lord Alge, Beck, Kanye West (I like his Jesus song), Missy Elliot, and Eagles of Death Metal. I’m five years behind, aren’t I? I’m very busy!”
The idea of Ann Coulter listening to the Eagles of the Death Metal’s Death By Sexy album is deeply awesome. She claims she doesn’t smoke pot in the article, but then again she claims that McCarthyism was a good thing, so she obviously says a whole lot of ridiculous bullshit. But read the article, the woman knews her Dead. My theory: she’s definitely a stoner and judging by her love of the Eagles and Missy, “she gets her freak on.” Weird.
In other news, if you haven’t already, you should check out the new LA Observed. Kevin Roderick, the site’s editor has expanded their local business coverage and sports coverage, explained here. And the people he’s got to run them are an even bigger coup for him, as he’s getting former Los Angeles Business Journal editor Marc Lacter to write the business blog. For those who don’t know, Marc Lacter knows as much about business as anyone you could ever hope to read. If you even have a passing interest in the workings of Los Angeles, I highly advise you to check out the site and their new offerings.
This week Pitchfork reported that the Swan Lake collaboration between Carey Mercer of Frog Eyes, Spencer Krug of Wolf Parade and Dan Bejar of Destroyer officially has a release date, November 21 on Jagjaguwar. I know it’s a little ridiculous that the guys from Frog Eyes and Wolf Parade formed a supergroup called Swan Lake, but their album’s called Beast Moans, so I think they have a sense of humor about it. Besides, I don’t care what they call themselves. This is without a doubt my most anticipated album of the rest of the year. As I’d said 8,000 times before, Spencer Krug’s Sunset Rubdown project is my hands-down pick for best album of the thus far. And with Carey Mercer and Dan Bejar, I don’t see how I’m not going to love this album.
Also a while back the Fork threw 3 and a half stars at The Clipse’s new single, “Wamp Wamp.” Wow that song sucks I don’t know where the Clipse fall in on the boy-band/coke rap scale. Perhaps they’re Color Me Badd. You can stream it there. As for the quality of the song, Pitchfork’s writer claims “when Push initiates with ‘No hotter flow dropper since Poppa,’ nobody’s blinking.
I blinked. As of right now, I can think of roughly 278 “hotter flow droppers since Poppa.”
Does anyone remember this dude, Ken Jennings? The guy who won 74 straight Jeopardy! matches. Well, it turns out he’s sort of awesome. Apparently, this week he crafted what might be the most intelligent “dis letter” ever, aimed at the show and Alex Trebek. Yes that’s right, he’s calling out names.
In the letter, he claims that Trebek is “the Dorian Gray of syndication. You seem to think `change’ means replacing a blue polyethylene backdrop with a slightly different shade of blue polyethylene backdrop every presidential election or so.”
Ouch. That’s the genius of Ken Jennings, he’ll insult you and you don’t even know it. I’m onto you Jennings. I’m onto you. And I respect you.
Lastly, I wanted to touch upon the disappointment that is the new DJ Shadow album. I didn’t even throw up a picture of it because quite frankly, I’ll probably never listen to it again. I don’t even want to think about it. DJ Shadow is Endtroducing whether he likes it or not and going off and making a hyphy album doesn’t mean he’s evolved as an artist. Somebody should show him tapes of Neil Young and The Rolling Stones trying to adapt to the 1980s. It doesn’t matter how good of an artist you are, going with the times will inevitably lead to massacres like Shadow’s new Outsider album.
Seriously, Shadow doing hyphy feels like Keith Richards in flourescent colors. It just doesn’t work. The most frustrating thing about the album is that there are snatches of real brilliance buried in there. An occasional breakbeat and sample that makes you pause for a moment, an apolocaplyptic synth outro that might close out a song.
But it’ll be side-by-side next to a song called “Turf Talk,” or “3 Freaks.” Private Press was better than everyone thought it was, but it was plagued by stretches where Shadow just meandered and lost focus. This album is the oppostite, mostly scattershot and rambling with the occasional bit of excellence. Skeet on Mischa compares it to a RJD2 or a Prefuse 73 album, which are definitely valid points. But the crucial difference in my eyes is that I’ll take guest rapping appearances from guys like Blueprint, Ghostface, El-P, or Aesop Rock any day over any of these no-name hyphy headache inducers.
Sadly, the man who claimed that hip-hop sucked in 1996 has made an album that perfectly captures why hip-hop sucks in 2006. Faddish regional bounce music filled with empty braggadocio and screaming and hollering. I remember this when it was called 2 Live Crew and to be honest, I didn’t like it then. Even his one guest spot from Phonte of Little Brother is wasted as it devolves into a senseless spoken word piece of sorts. This album is a mess. If you liked Endtroducing you’ll hate this album. If Rick Ross made the most boring album of 2006, this is easily the most depressing.
Please watch this clip of Stephen Colbert proving as he does every night that he’s the best thing on television right now. In the clip, he responds to the coverage of an obviously joking interview that he did on a Democratic congressman in Fla. In typically brilliant fashion, he mocks the absurdity of the Today Show and Good Morning America. It’s pretty awesome.
You can’t turn on the news these days without seeing something coming out of Lebanon, where the Israeli army is carrying out a weeks-old offensive to root out Hezbollah guerillas. As you’ve probably heard, many people have opinions on what should be done.
According to Israeli leader Ehud Olmert and United States president George Bush, Israel needs to secure its borders by conducting an all-out offensive in response to Hezbollah’s act of aggression. Meanwhile, most of the International Community feels differently, hoping for an immediate cease-fire.
But I’m not sure either solution can solve the internecine warfare that has plagued the Middle East. Personally, I think both sides are offering stop-gap solutions that seem to be avoiding the true crisis that nobody seems willing to talk about. Yes, there is a problem in the Middle East, a problem so intractable that peace can only occur by the elimination of that one crucial and entrenched element.
The problem of course: the mustache.
No, you can’t turn on CNN these days without seeing a mustache. Take a look below at erstwhile Palestinian leader, Mahmoud Abbas.
Who’d Have Thought a Place Called The Gaza Strip Would’ve Turned Out to be so Little Fun
On many levels you have to feel for Abbas. Sure, he spent most of his youth denying the Holocaust, but since taking over the Palestinian Authority, Abbas seems to be one of the few people trying to make peace in the Middle East. Too bad he has yet to negotiate any sort of settlement with Hamas that would allow for greater reforms and greater peace for all parties involved. His problem of course is that inevitably Hamas doesn’t trust him. Why? His mustache. Obviously.
No, sorry, that’s Z-Z-R-S-T, not B-B-R-S-C
Or how about former opthamologist turned Syrian dictator Bashar Assad. Sure that snazzy little mustache he wears might impress the ladies, but is it helping create peace? No. If anything it’s just helping to create flashbacks to leisure suits and Donna Summer albums.
Everyday I’m Hustlin’
Even the members of the Arab street seem to be afflicted with the root cause of conflict: mustaches. Of course, this isn’t any one’s fault per se. Mustaches happen to the best of us. A few days of letting yourself go free, a few careful shaving strokes and voila…you officially are no longer trustworthy.
Indeed the corridors of history are lined with the likes of untrustworthy men with mustaches. Witness Exhibit A: Adolph Hitler. You can’t blame Neville Chamberlain for having attempted to make peace in exchange for granting Hitler Austria and the Sudetenland. However, you can blame him for not realizing that making peace with a mustached man was an impossible proposition. Oh silly Neville Chamberlain, will you ever win?
Or how about exhibit B: Joseph Stalin. Stalin too learned the perils of trusting a man with a mustache, when he agreed to a peace treaty with Hitler only for the Fuhrer to break the pact just a few years later. Indeed not even a man with a mustache himself understood the insidiousness of such facial hair.
But We Got Them Back at Leningrad, Eh, Comrade?
But one doesn’t only need to turn to the history books to learn that peace can only be won by people without mustaches. Pop culture is also stocked with examples. Need I point to unsavory cartoon character Dick Dastardly shown below.
Meeing Nice Girls With the name Dick Dastardly Is Much Harder Than You’d Think. I think I’ll Just Twirl My Mustache a few more times instead.
Along with his pal Muttley, all Dastardly ever tried to do was win at Wacky Racesby cheating and trickery. I mean c’mon, this guy’s race car was named “The Mean Machine.” Do you think he could’ve been trusted? Doubtful. But I’ll bet he was a choir boy before growing those strands of liquorice attached to his upper lip.
Whatever…Smee Like Totally Thinks It’s In. Or how about Capt. James Hook, perhaps the most feared man to sail the high seas. Everytime Peter Pan tried to broker a peace with him, Hook pretended that he was a willing participant, only to try to kill him when Pan let his guard down. Ultimately, peace was impossible. If it wasn’t for that hungry crocodile who knows what the fate of poor Neverland would’ve been.
Yet animation isn’t the only genre replete with examples of unsavory characters with mustaches. Need I remind everyone of the Scatman.
Just Like Cab Calloway, If Cab Calloway Had Really Really Sucked
Inded for a brief period in 1995, the Scatman’s insufferable song “Scatman (Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop)“, received non-stop airplay on the Box. The Scatman’s mix of gibberish and scat served to inevitably lead to the insanity of thousands of Junior and High School students, who for some reason he conned into purchasing his album. Definitely not a man to trust.
But perhaps the best reason for not trusting a man with a mustache is famed television and film star, Tom Selleck.
The “Come Hither” Look Didn’t Come Easy. It Took 16 Years of Practice
No, I don’t necessarily have any problem with Selleck, but you take a look at this man and you tell me if you trust him. I won’t even bring up his ill-advised decision to sleep with Courtney Cox on Friends (a decision David Arquette will never recover from). However, Selleck cannot be trusted under any stretch of the imagination. Because he’s Selleck damnit. You think the two of you are cool, then bam! Next thing you know, Selleck’s got your girl and he doesn’t give a fuck.
I’m onto you Selleck.
The point is, take a look around this post. What do Hitler, Stalin, Hook and Dick Dastardly have in common? They’re all dead. And as for Selleck, he’s now sans moustache. Indeed peace is on the march. The mustache can and will be defeated. Soon and for the rest of our lives. So keep faith and remember this the next time someone blames the Israelis or someone blames the Arabs. Just tell them the truth, just tell them about the mustache.
I’m not one of these “blame America for all the world’s ails” types. But every now and then, I have a moment of clarity where it becomes abundantly clear to me why rest of the world hates America right now. And last week, I had one of those moments when I came across Taco Bell’s advertising campaign for something it calls “the fourth meal. “
The ad campaign in question references Taco Bell’s recent decision to extend its operating hours until 1:00, in an effort to lure the 18-34 crowd to eat its fourth meal of the day there. Now before I go off, I’m well aware that corporations will be corporations and that the firm’s main goal is profits and not necessarily the well-being of its customers. I also understand the logistics of being in college stoned at 12:30 a.m., praying that Taco Bell is still open. In fact, I understand said logistics prolly a little bit better than I should.
But seriously, a fourth meal? I’m not even gonna’ cite the “there are people starving in Africa” card because it’s too obvious. But when the obesity rate of Americans is an obviously disturbing and growing trend (30 percent of adult Americans are considered obsese and 16 percent of children) it’s unconscionable that Taco Bell would undertake such a campaign. The last thing Americans need is a fourth meal.
I’m not trying to preach or moralize, but rather point out the fact that it says a lot about American culture right now that we’re supposedly at war, yet consumerism seems more rampant than ever. During World War II and WWI, Americans were forced to ration most material goods, and in George Bush’s America of 2006, the idea of any sort of sacrifice is considered by most to be patently absurd.
Now I was against the idea of those McDonald’s obesity lawsuits because if you’re going to McDonald’s you should know damn well that it’s not good for you. But at least McDonald’s never started an ad campaign telling Americans to disregard hundreds of years of three meal-a-day eating patterns to eat even more junk food. The sad thing is, I have no doubt that the ad campaign will inevitably work.
Still, it feels more than a little offensive that Taco Bell would be so blatant and so crass in their appeals. Sure, it’s pretty easy for me to lob shots at big corporations like so many other bloggers do, but then again it also seems pretty easy to picture being impoverished and and knowing that one of the biggest corporations in the world actively wants to make a real problem even worse. In 100 years when historians will inevitably study early 21st Century American life, trying to analyze our zeitgeist, I think Taco’s Bell ad campaign would be a good as a place to start as any. (well…that or the fact that Paris Hilton’s song is actually getting major radio play) Perhaps then, Taco Bell will have moved on to ads for its 5th meal of the day.
In other less self-righteous news, Chappelle’s Show finally concluded it’s so-called “Lost Episodes,” on Sunday night and as you’ve probably read elsewhere, the sketches were mostly a mixed-bag. But when the sketches did click, they were as good as the best that Chappelle had ever done. And out of any of them, the second half of last night’s episode held up as exceptionally strong. The L’il Jon in love sketch was hilarious, but the last skit in particular was incredibly effective and a little sad.
For those who didn’t see it, it chronicles Dave’s first meeting with “Showbiz,” which basically serves as an analog for The Wizard from The Wizard of Oz. During the meeting, Showbiz asks Dave what he wants to do now that he’s become famous and what not. Dave informs him that he’d like to maintain his integrity and essentially keep it real. To which, Showbiz laughs at him and says “Oh…so you are as funny as they say you are.”
Soon after, Showbiz tells Dave how he needs to become a pitchman and get his own cereal, complete with a cheesy Saturday morning-esque commercial with a little white girl who screams “I’m rich bitch,” after eating a bite.
The sketch itself was funny, but more than that it seemed to provide the best window yet into Chappelle’s pre-departure psyche. I’ve tried to reserve my final judgment on Chappelle’s decision to leave the show until I’d seen the last of these episodes. With that in mind, I think ultimately Chappelle made the right decision.
Clearly, the way in which he handled leaving the show was wrong. It was immature and hopefully it won’t torpedo his career, because he still remains one of the funniest people in America. However, that final sketch clearly illustrated Chappelle’s desire to maintain his creative integrity at all costs. It’s all too rare for someone to turn down vast sums of money in exchange for their pride. The man clearly didn’t want to put out lackluster work, nor did he want to exploit his newfound fame. And for that, he should be commended, not maligned.
I can think of about a million reasons to hate Entourage: it glorifies things that shouldn’t be glorified, it can be wildly unrealistic and the characters often border on being complete stereotypes. And yet somehow, it remains the most watchable show on television. Now I’ve never described myself as an Entourage fan, the first season is one of the most overrated things I’ve ever seen and the only likable characters on the show are Turtle and Drama, but overall the show somehow manages to almost always stay afloat and for that it deserves praise, especially considering it seemed adrift at times earlier this season.
At several times thus far, I’ve thought that the writers were on the verge of digging themselves into holes too deep to recover from: the obnoxious Dom character, the fact that they think that a guy like E could manuever his way into a three-some with two incredibly gorgeous women, the fact that charisma-deficient Vince turned into the biggest movie star on the planet.
However, just when they’re about to go too far, the program always shifts course and stays interesting. Vince’s decision not to do Aquaman 2, a plotline inevitably borrowed from Tobey Maguirre’s almost-decision to opt out of the Spiderman sequels, is a great storyline. It serves to make the Vince character more likable than he should be and will allows the writers to keep suspense high. With Vince as the king of Hollywood, the only place they could’ve gone was down. But with his decision to pick art over commerce, they’ve succesfully complexified the character and kept the audience guessing. The show will never be an Arrested Development, a Seinfeld, or a Colbert Report, but it’s always engaging. And for a television show, I couldn’t ask for much more.
So I caught the big Flaming Lips, Thievery Corporation, Os Mutantes show at the Hollywood Bowl and thought about doing a full review before thinking better of it. Personally, I’m not all that vested in any of these bands and writing a long-winded review of it would bore me to write probably even more than it would bore you to read. But as I’ve never seen the Flaming Lips before, the show definitely left me pretty impressed. All the Flaming Lips gimmickry: Dancing Santas, Wayne Coyne in a bubble, streamers, confetti, balloons, the works, may be played out for some, but it was pretty cool to see for the first
If you haven’t already seen the Lips, I highly recommend it. Their live show is easily one of the most original I’ve ever seen. I understand that this isn’t 1992 so most of my readers are well aware of the Lips, but after having long found them overrated, I’ve finally began to understand the hype, even if Wayne Coyne’s voice is shot.
The set list skewed heavily towards songs from their recent At War With The Mystics album, with a little Yoshimi and even less Soft Bulletin, but nonetheless, the crowd atmosphere remained one of the most buoyant I’ve ever seen. It’s not the easiest task in the world to get tens of thousands Angelenos hyped and frenzied, but throughout the band’s hour plus set, the Lips turned the Hollywood Bowl into a massive party, full of gargantuan white balloons being batted towards you and waving neon blue, purple and green glow-sticks. It might have been a little dumb, it might have clearly epitomized one person’s explanation that due to the “Lips’ overt whimsy and live spectacle, they caught a lot of Phish fans on the rebound,” but the Lips live were pretty much impossible not to like.
If I had any complaints, it was that the set was much too short. Any band with a catalogue like The Lips should play longer than an hour and 15 minutes. Plus, just one encore seemed a little lazy, especially considering the show was supposedly being taped for a live DVD. Additionally, their insistence on playing mostly new stuff felt pretty lame, especially compared to Belle and Sebastian, the last act I’d seen at the bowl, who played nearly exclusively older material.
Other than that, my final complaint was that whether they want to or not, the Flaming Lips have an obligation to play “She Don’t Use Jelly.” I don’t care if they’re sick of it. I don’t care if it’s the only song that only non-Flaming Lips fans know. The bottom line is that if the song was good enough to get Steve Sanders to declare “I’ve never been a big fan of alternative music but these guys rock,” after the Lips played the Peach Pit After Dark, than it should be good enough for the fans at the Hollywood Bowl.
On a related note, I wonder what kind of music Steve Sanders typically was a fan of. He always struck me as an EMF or a Jesus Jones sort of guy.
You Set the Scene, also wrote up a review of the show, which he found disappointing. He’s certainly been to a whole lot more Lips shows than me so we were definitely approaching the performance from different angles. Read his take here.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that there’s always been something a little off about Cam’ron. It’s been well-documented that Cam’ron exists in the same solar system as Bobby Brown, Mike Tyson, R. Kelly and Ron Artest. From his predilection for purple, chinchilla or making homophobic remarks seemingly everytime he opens his mouth, something about Cam’ron feels like he just wasn’t made for these times.
But exactly what was so off about Cam’ron, I didn’t realize until the other day when I was leafing through my CD collection and came across T. Rex’s Tanx album booklet. Since I’d never actually read the thing all the way through before, I started to read the albums lyrics. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before I stumbled across the words to track one, “Tenement Lady.”
“Tenement Lady, stone drug mama, street hawk stone heart mind that swiftly falls apart/
Sudden Sid Groove Lid, sharp as the dark park, pickle pump peeper/mind that swiftly falls apart/
Count Lurch Hearse Head, prince of the snick snacks/got a pierced ear mind full of the sailors with their perfume/Molly Mouse dream talk, gin house milk shake/ she steals my magazines, she’s a laser-lipper lover.”
On paper, this seems to make absolutely no sense, but there was something about it that seemed vaguely familiar. Then it hit me, the lyrics sounded like they could’ve be the best Cam’ron verse of all time. And not just because Cam has a pierced ear mind full of Jim Jones with his perfume. But it seemed awfully similar to the type of thing Cam’ron would’ve written had he been a 5′5 Jewish London Glam Rock Superstar during the early 1970’s, rather than a 6′0 Black Harlem Coke Rap Superstar in the mid-2000s. All the wildly imagistic gibberish, the nonsensical yet somehow entertaining non sequiters, the overwhelming drug-infused flamboyance. They even had similar rhyme schemes.
Confessions of Fire? Honestly, Do I Even Need to Make this Joke?
Just check out Cam’s verse from “Killa Cam.”
“When I say hammertime/beef I’m hammer mine/when I got my hands on nines if I had on bammerline/cordoroys Cam will shine/Canary Burgundy I call it Lemon Red/Yellow Diamonds in my ear call them lemonheads/lemonhead end up dead/end up like Winnipeg/Gemstones Flintstones You could say I’m friends with Fred/you want happy scrappy I got Pataki at me.”
If anyone’s interested, feel free to give me your interpretation of the line “You could say I’m friends with Fred,” in the comments section. I think we all know what he’s getting at. Not like there’s anything wrong with that.
But there seems to be more to this connection than just lyrical similarities and sexual ambivalence. Even Bolan’s and Cam’rons careers seem to be following a direct parallel. Like Cam’ron, it took a while for T. Rex to blow up even though both seemed to be at the epicenter of their respective music scenes (Cam’ron in Harlem in the late 90s, Bolan in London in the late 60’s). Both had failed to make it big with a group once before, Cam with Children of the Corn, Bolan with Tyranosaurus Rex, the earlier more folky incarnation of T. Rex.
Drinking Sake On a Suzuki in Osaka Bay? Can I Still Wear My Boa?
But there’s more. Despite having had huge singles in the past, for T. Rex, “Ride A White Swan and “Hot Love,” for Cam’ron, “Horse and Carriage” and “What Means the World To You,” neither artist became a major star until the release of one album in particular that caused their careers to accelerate into the stratosphere. For Cam’ron, it was the platinum-selling Come Home With Me, for T. Rex it was the supremely awesome Electric Warrior.
Additionally, both artists followed up their biggest commercial success with albums that failed to move as many units: T. Rex’s The Slider and Cam’s Purple Haze. However, both albums still resonated with the die-hards, as many fans of both artists will vouch for the brilliance of both works. Most interestingly, they followed up both of these efforts with an album that seemed to push them further from the limelight, Killa Season and the aforementioned T. Rex Tanx album. Hell, even T. Rex made a vanity film called Born to Boogie that managed to get just as critically savaged as Cam’s ill-fated attempt, Killa Season.
Most bizarre, Bolan left the world within a year of the time when a young Cameron Giles entered it, as Bolan died in 1977 and Giles was born in 1976. Needless to say, it should by now be clear to all sane and reasonable minds that as Bolan died, his soul traveling on its way out of the universe suddenly decided that he wasn’t through with earth, and henceforth transported himself into the body of a young Cameron Giles. Bolan’s spirit then decided to return back to the music world as Killa Cam, perhaps one of the most flamboyant musicians in the world today. After all, how else to explain the walking psychological amusement house that is Cam’ron. How else could he make sense? Clearly, if anyone in the music world is the reincarnation of a sexually ambiguous glam rock star, well who else could it be but Cam’ron.
Two thoughts before getting into a much over-due links post. So I’m at the gym today and the song “Hellz Wind Staff,” from Wu-Tang Forever comes onto the iPod. Great right? But this immediately makes two things come directly to mind. First off, how in god’s name did the Rza allow Wu-Tang carrier Street Life to start off the song, “So get your brain crashed by my Hellz Wind Staff/while the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news like Katie Chung.”
After all, this might’ve been the best verse Street Life ever rapped in his life and somehow not one of the 400 Wu-Tang Clan members/weed carriers they inevitably had lingering in the studio could’ve told him that her name was Connie Chung. Was Street Life getting Katie Couric and Connie Chung mixed up? I’m confused. And does this mean Street Life also watches Maury Povich? We may never get the answer.
The second thought was that in light of how downhill rap music went shortly after Forever was released, does this make Forever underrated? I remember at the time that the overwhelming sentiment was that it was another bloated double-album and in many ways it is. However, taking a look back at it and comparing it with what followed, I think it’s safe to say that Forever is easily one of the 50 best rap albums ever made.
Granted, there’s stuff in there they could’ve cut, “Deadly Melody” and “Black Shampoo” seem more than superfluous and “The Dog Shit,” is good only for laughs, but there are a lot of classics on Forever. There’s no way anyone could’ve ever followed up Enter the 36, not to mention Tical, Ironman, Only Built For Cuban Linx, and Liquid Swords. Expectations were just a bit too high. And let’ s be real, there were nine dudes in Wu-Tang not including Capadonna. They practically had to do a double album just to give everyone their fair share on the mic. Give it another listen if you haven’t heard it in a while. If this is a disappointment, I wish rappers could be this disappointing more often.
In other news, Pitchfork bestowed the Best New Music distinction to the album Night Ripper, from Girl Talk. Though I now am officially a member of the Stylus staff and am therefore biased, I’m siding with Cameron’s McDonald’s B- Stylus review that he did a little while back. If you’re gonna’ name your group Girl Talk you better deliver a great album and though this album’s heart seems to be in the right place creatively, the end result is nothing more than an hour long headache. I can’t get past three songs of the song without wanting to scream for mercy. The premise is pretty simple, a whole bunch of samples stitched over raps from the likes of G-Unit, Jermaine Dupri, the Ying Yang Twinz, and Dem Franchise Boys. The bottom line is, I don’t care if you layer Mozart samples over these dudes, the end result will still be an abomination. Don’t worry, Avalanches, we’re still waiting for you.
Also, as many of you probably now, The Roots’ new album Game Theory has also leaked and judging from the comment section on Bol’s blog, people seem to be feeling it. After a few listens, I’m cautiously willing to say that it’s a return to form for the group. Is it Illadelph or Things Fall Apart? Definitely not. But who expected that? It’s a pretty decent album, which is all one can expect from the Roots at this point. Sure, they’re probably past their creative prime, but by album seven what group is in their prime? Sonic Youth fans calm down.
Game Theory seems a lot more political than past Roots efforts and to be honest, the parts of the album that dealt with politics kind of bored me. That being said, this is a much better effort than The Tipping Point and a whole lot better than the still-born Phrenology. It’s doubtful this is going to win the Roots any new fans, but if you’ve liked their stuff in the past, it’s worth at least a few listens.
But out of any of the albums, I’ve been listening to of late, the best of the bunch is My Morning Jacket’s forthcoming live album Okonokos. It’s not slated to come out for a little while longer, but this album is ridiculously good. I don’t even like live albums for the most part, but this one does a faithful job of replicating the brilliance of MMJ’s live show. Regardless of whether you like this band or not, it’s a must buy album.
As the year is already half-over a lot of bloggers have been doing their Best Of Lists of the half-year. If you like hip-hop then I highly advise you to check out Straight Bangin’s List of the Best Albums and Singles Thus Far. I haven’t heard all of his choices, but as far as his 1,2 picks of Ghostface’s Fishscale and Murs’ Murray’s Revenge, I’m definitely on-board with those two as being the best hip-hop albums made this year.
As for my own list of the best overall albums made in the first six months of the year, Skeet on Mischa basically already started my list for me, naming The Islands’ Return to the Sea, Fishscale and Sunset Rubdown’s Shut Up I Am Dreaming, as three of his top four (I haven’t drank the TV On the Radio Kool-Aid just yet). As for the rest of the top ten, I’m not sure where these albums will all end up when I get around to doing a year-end Best of list, but in addition to the ones Skeet mentioned, I’d go with The Black Keys Chulahoma, Voxrot’s twin EP’s, Tapes N’ Tapes The Loon, Guster’s Ganging Up on the Sun, Kelley Stoltz’s Between the Branches, (easily the most underrated album of the year), Belle and Sebastian’s The Life Pursuit, and Beirut’s Gulag Orkestrar.
Also, if you haven’t already bookmarked it and you like baseball, you need to check out the Naughty Baseball blog, which is fast becoming one of the most hilarious sites on the Internet. I can’t even pick out a specific post to pick from, they’re all great.
Another singer beginning to see a backlash for his efforts is Internet hero Sufjan Stevens, witness Stephen Thomas Erlewine’s trenchant takedown of Stevens on All Music Guide. (on another note when did All Music Guide start publishing essays? Not like I’m complaining or anything).
I don’t necessarily agree with all of Erlewine’s points, but for the most part a lot of them make a sense. I can’t deny that I did and still do consider Illinois an outstanding album, but on some levels, I think that a lot of it has to do with the ambition and scope of the concept. It’s certainly a gimmick, but a very well-executed one at that.
However, the truth about Illinois is I don’t listen to it all that much and I suspect others don’t either. As a whole, it’s too long, too self-indulgent and should’ve probably been cut in half. Like Erlewine points out, there is something alienating and insular about it. That being said, I almost never listen to Ok Computer and I’ll acknowledge it’s a great album even if I think Thom Yorke is the most alienating person on the planet.
More important to Erlewine’s argument is a fact that he briefly touches on in the essay:
“Most songs on Illinois and The Avalanche, this week’s outtakes and demos collection assembled from the same sessions, all bear strikingly similar arrangements, all assembled from Stevens‘ by now familiar trick bag: wispy choruses, tempo changes, whistling woodwinds, cutesy harmonies.”
By releasing the Avalanche, Stevens opened himself up to a whole lot of criticism, mainly because of the similarity of the songs. The truth is, if Illinois had never come out and you put “Chicago” “Casamir Pulaski Day,” and perhaps “The Man of Metropolis,” on The Avalanche people would’ve rushed to hail it as genius as well. However, there is something a bit disturbing about The Avalanche, as it makes Sufjan look like he’s some sort of one-man factory, creating songs with similar arrangements and about things he’s studied really hard to learn a whole lot about. Any artist should be careful to reveal to the world the method’s behind their art and by releasing The Avalanche, Stevens seemingly showed the world that it wasn’t all that hard to do, relatively speaking.
In a way, it cheapens Illinois, leaving me with the feeling that it might be more an effective and disposable product rather than a timeless work of art. In magic, a magician is supposedly never supposed to show you how he does his tricks. If music bears any similarity to that adage , then Sufjan definitely violated that rule.
Last week, I was fortunate enough to attend a Skirball Institute Film Series event featuring a screening of the 1969 French film Z, and a discussion of the film with Oliver Stone. The film was specifically chosen by Stone, as it was instrumental to his development as a filmmaker during his film school days at NYU.
While I’m not going to write up an entire review of the film, I highly encourage anyone interested in good movies to check it out. The winner of two Oscars (best foreign language film and best film editing), Z even managed to get nominated for the 1970 Best Picture Ocar, where it ultimately lost out to Midnight Cowboy. When you watch the film these accolades come as no surprise, as Z is one of the most intelligent yet highly entertaining political movies ever made.
The film itself is a barely fictionalized account of the events surrounding the assassination of democratic Greek politician Gregoris Lambrakis in 1963. As Wikipedia puts it, with “its satirical view of Greek politics, its dark sense of humor, and its chilling ending, the film captures a sense of outrage about the military dictatorship that ruled Greece at the time.”
It sounds like pretty heavy subject matter and it is, but the filmmaker, Costa Gavras, handles the gravity of the events with a light touch, yet simultaneously manages to fiercely mock the fascist military junta then ruling Greece. Needless to say, any film that has the balls to open up with the disclaimer, “Any resemblance to real events, to persons living or dead, is not accidental. It is DELIBERATE,” is a-ok in my book.
As for the discussion with Stone that followed, it was as weird as you might expect. Among the tidbits of knowledge that he dropped were that he doesn’t believe Lee Harvey Oswald played a real role in the JFK assasination, that he misses Nixon because “at least Nixon had a conscience,” and that he watched Wedding Crashers three times in the theaters. I’ll let that last one slide, because if anyone should get a critical free pass, it’s Oliver Stone. The guy was behind Platoon, Wall St., Natural Born Killers, Born on the 4th of July, Scarface, The Doors, JFK and yes, Conan The Barbarian. A genius? Obviously. That being said, I’m still not going anywhere near his next flick, WorldTradeCenter.
But most importantly, after watching Z, I noticed one fact that no one in the media has yet to pick up on. It seems the protagonist of Z, Jacques Perrin, and new Charlotte Bobcat Adam Morrison, might indeed be the same person. Take a closer look and then ask yourself, how well do you know Adam Morrison? Is his proclivity for crying nothing more than evidence of a sensitive and artistic Gallic film background? You decide.
The problem with hip-hop duos is that they’re inherently designed to implode from the get-go. While John Lennon and Paul McCartney and other rock groups with multiple singers might’ve been able to ease group tension by allowing individuals to shine on their own tracks, hip-hop duos are rarely afforded the same luxury. The reason is simple: any great hip-hop duo inevitably relies on its unique back-and forth chemistry, where both rappers trade-off verses, often within the same 16-bar stanza. Duos thrive on a fluid and melodic interplay, one that simultaneously allows for each rapper to make up for the other’s shortcomings. And yet, this set-up is damned from its inception, as it would seemingly contradict the definition of an artist as an individual who desires the room to take creative liberties, experiment, and follow a creative path. A creative path that more often than not is not the same one that one’s partner is traveling on.
As in 5 Million Sold, Just For Having The Name Outkast on the Packaging
An analysis of hip hop history reveals the difficulties inherent in staying creatively satisfied within the stifling confines of a partnership. Most famously, Outkast has struggled to stay on the same page artistically, as in recent years they have basically embarked on solo careers, while keeping the name Outkast to enhance their commercial viability. But it isn’t only Outkast who have struggled with being a two-man show. Duos have a knack for disappearing off the face of the earth. Think about stellar underground groups like Camp Lo, M.O.P. and Black Sheep. For every Tribe Called Quest or EPMD that manages to survive and put out album after album, there seems to dozens of groups that couldn’t stay together past album one (I’m looking at you Company Flow, Blackstar and Tha Dogg Pound (because 10 years later doesn’t count))
The tension built into these arrangements often leads to a break-up well before the duo has hit their creative stride. Indeed hip-hop history is littered with individual members of groups trying to go solo and failing miserably. Every now and then a Pharoahe Monche will emerge from the confines of an Organized Konfusion, but more often than not, rappers trying to go solo end up like Q-Tip and Phife: lost and no longer commercially viable without the strength of the group’s brand name.
Are You There Phife? It’s me, Q-Tip.
The problem is that in each duo, one rapper usually emerges as the dominant creative force, sucking up all the critical acclaim and fan worship. Think Andre, Q-Tip, Pharoahe, Phonte of Little Brother, Black Thought (in the Malik B two-rapper days). This inevitably leads to the “alpha” rapper believing himself to be constrained by the group context, and the “lesser” rapper growing jealous and believing himself to be woefully underrated, something which only a solo career could remedy.
Which brings me to Cannibal Ox, the latest hip-hop duo to realize the hoary old cliche: together we stand, divided we fall. In 2001, Can Ox dropped The Cold Vein, the first full-length album from then brand-new label, Def Jux. Like few albums made before or since, The Cold Vein features El-P’s trademark robotic, dystopian, Blade Runner beats coupled with the formidable rapping and lyrical skill of Vast Aire and Vordul Megilah. In my opinion, the Cold Vein is the best album by a rap duo in the decade thus far . It’s main competitors, being Little Brother’s The Listening and Outkast’s Stankonia, both outstanding efforts, but ones plagued with filler. And don’t even think about mentioning anything from The Clipse, because anyone who thinks The Clipse is the best hip-hop duo in the world is at best naive and at worst disturbingly ignorant. But The Cold Vein is a masterpiece from start to finish. With a dark, foreboding and yet introspective air seeping through the album’s beats and lyrics, The Cold Vein’s paranoid mess of imagery and simile captured the state of the damaged American psyche in the year 2001. But that was five years ago and Cannibal Ox haven’t been heard from since. Rumors floated about a possible break-up and indeed, Cannibal Ox had planned to do some Western tour dates in 2004, before mysteriously canceling their tour at the last minute. In the meantime, both Vordul and Vast Aire released non-Def Jux solo albums, neither of which received much acclaim nor sales. Suddenly, without solo careers to speak of, I imagine that both Vordul and Vast Aire started looking back on their Cannibal Ox days fondly.
Whatever. He Like Totally Started It.
So in 2006, we get the return of Cannibal Ox. Finally. With a live album supposedly in the works and a talk of a new album, Cannibal Ox launched a mini-tour to help re-brand themselves in a world of hip-hop that looks very different than the one they left.
Judging from the state of the half-filled Troubadour, the buzz that had accompanied The Cold Vein has by now dissipated. In fact, I was shocked by how empty the space was, considering the fact that Cannibal Ox hasn’t played Los Angeles since touring following the The Cold Vein’s release(seriously Los Angeles hip-hop fans, sometimes you really embarass me). Perhaps it was the fact that it cost $28 (with Ticketmaster monopoly charges) or perhaps it was the fact that the colleges are out for the summer, but it would seem that at least to some degree, many hip-hop fans have forgotten about Vast and Vordul.But the fans that did show up to watch the return of the Ox, certainly got hyped when the duo took the stage, coming out to The Cold Vein’s first track, “Iron Galaxy.” On-stage, the duo showed few signs of rust, both sounding crystal clear and both showcasing powerful and commanding flows. Live, the two seemed to have put in their rehearsal time, as the every transition and ad-lib was perfectly timed.
In particular, Vast Aire was ferocious on the mic. Tremendously large, Vast must be 6′7, 350 lbs. and on-stage he comes across as a mixture between Biggie and MF Doom, two rappers who mastered the art of following up witty playful punch-lines with viciously sharp and menacing boasts. The intricacies and complex wordplay of Vast’s lyrics translated nicely to the live setting, as his flow was liquid and effortless, never overwhelming the beat once, but never failing to rock the room. And Vordul was no slouch either, with a flow more halting and choppy, but yet still powerful. Coupled with their tracks from The Cold Vein, the concert got off to a roaring start, as the duo blasted through ridiculously great renditions of “Atom,” and a “B-Boy’s Alpha.”
Say I Look Like Biggie One More Time, Bitch. Just Try It.
But the set devolved from there, seemingly embodying the problems involved in being a hip-hop duo. Both Vast and Vordul wanted their time to shine individually, performing a cut or two apiece from both of their solo efforts. While these songs weren’t bad per se, they couldn’t match up with the power of the Cold Vein work and the energy in the room seemed to drop, as the fans weren’t familiar with the material. Additionally, their DJ did a very nice mini-five minute DJ set scratching and mixing “Guillotine (Swords)” from Only Built For Cuban Linx.
But ultimately, the crowd didn’t want to hear Raekwon, solo Vast Aire or solo Vordul, they wanted to see the duo in action again. And after a 15 minute break, the group returned to more Cold Vein material, including live versions of “Pigeon,” “Real Earth,” and “Stress Rap.” But just as everyone was settling into the show, it was over, just like that, following the unveiling of a new album track that promises to be great if they ever end up finishing the album.
Megillah Means Scroll in Hebrew. Whether or Not Vordul Megilah is a fan of the Book of Purim Remains to be Seen.
The set itself was much too short, clocking in at just 35 minutes with no encore. The fans, most of whom were die-hards, were left bickering and muttering curses about how they felt cheated by such a short performance. And I did too.
After four songs, I was convinced that this was going to turn out to be one of the greatest hip-hop shows I’ve ever witnessed, but sadly that was the night’s apex. Cannibal Ox live reinforced the difficulties inherent in being in a group. To function well as a duo, both members of a group need to be willing to subvert their egos to get on the same page. Thus far, Cannibal Ox have yet to do so, but the fact that they’re touring again is a good sign.
They certainly showed flashes of brilliance, enough to make me think that they have what it takes to be the best hip-hop group around. Whether they’ll fulfill their early promise is anyone’s guess. Ultimately, Cannibal Ox’s set was like their career thus far: a whole lot of promise, but not nearly enough songs to show for it. Truth be told, I’m rooting for these guys. They certainly have the talent to be one of the greatest groups in hip-hop history. Whether they’ll fulfill that potential, who knows?
A conversation between a 15-year old Passion of the Weiss and the 24-year old incarnation, on the way to the Belle and Sebastian & Shins concert at the Hollywood Bowl last Thursday night:
15 year-old POW: So what are you doing tonight?
24 year-old POW: I’m going to see the Shins and Belle and Sebastian play at the Hollywood Bowl?
15 year-old POW: First Boy Least Likely To and now a Belle & Sebastian show? When did you become so fucking twee?
24 year old-POW: What are you talking about? They’re two really outstanding bands. You should be more open-minded.
15 year old-POW: So like are Wu-Tang opening or something and you’re just trying to mess with me?
24 year old-POW: No, the Shins.
15 year-old POW: You mean that band from Garden State? Why don’t you just move to the eastside, grow a beard, get a pair of glasses and thrown on a blazer? What a pussy.
24-Year old self: You know I’m 40 lbs. more than you are, I’d watch what you’re saying 15-year old Jeff.
But despite the pig-headedness and rap obsessiveness of my 15-year old self, I completely understand why people wouldn’ t necessarily like the album versions of both Belle and Sebastian and The Shins.
After all, even their All Music Guide biography calls Belle and Sebastian “precious,” and their second and most critically acclaimed album “If You’re Feeling Sinister,” is outstanding but a complete downer. It’s not exactly the sort of music you put on while you and your friends are drinking before going out on a Saturday night. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
And as for the Shins, they’re also a solid band, but now that Zach Braff and the Garden State soundtrack made them into “yupster/sorority girl” icons, there’s something a little off-putting about telling people how into The Shins you are. It’s the kind of admission that makes you want to add, “but like I’ve totally been into them before Garden State.” Damn you Braff. Is anything sacred? But despite any reasons that one might have for not liking either band, last Thursday’s show proved them to be two of the most polished and outstanding indie pop bands in the world today. Chances are you already know this fact, but nevertheless, seeing the two bands play at the Hollywood Bowl, as the sun set against the Hollywood Hills, with Belle and Sebastian backed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic, could’ve left even the most cynical observer blown away.
Headlining the largest concert they’ve ever played in the United States, Belle and Sebastian, really surprised me. I hadn’t expected them to be nearly as good as they were. I’d never seen them before, plus I’d heard that The Shins’ live show was mediocre at best, so I was tempted to skip the show altogether, as the ticket prices were steep. Luckily, Dan “Floating Away” Nieman, had an extra box seat ticket, offered it to me, and the next thing I knew I was arguing with my 15-year old self while fighting traffic to get to the Bowl.
To be honest, coming into the show I wasn’t exactly a Belle and Sebastian obsessive, only owning “Sinister” and their latest album “The Life Pursuit,” which at this point looks like a lock to make my top 10 list of Best Albums of the year. Die-hard Belle and Sebastian devotees might regard the album as a major disappointment, but as far as I’m concerned The Life Pursuit’s only problem was it’s release date. Somehow, the band got mixed up and released the summer album of the year in late Winter.
But no matter when they decide to release their albums, seeing them live made it very clear that Belle and Sebastian are a great live band. Stuart Murdoch, the band’s lead singer, has undeniable charisma (way more than I’d expected) in person and the ability to engage even the most jaded audience member. Constantly joking with the crowd and always energetic, Murdoch is an unlikely rock star: rail-thin and dresed foppishly but sharp, he looked more like a newspaper reporter from the 1940’s.
But sometimes on-stage, it all comes down to confidence and magnetism. And though Murdoch’s lyrics might often contain dark themes, he displayed none of these morose tendencies on-stage, bouncing across the wooden Bowl floorbeams, strutting across the catwalk out in front of the pit, even rushing into the crowd to ask for “mascara and a dress” (it made more sense at the time). During “Jonathan David,” Murdoch even brought a girl on stage to dance with him, calling her “baby bee-yotch,” a name which the Belle and Sebastian groupie was only too happy to take. On another note, who knew Belle and Sebastian had groupies?
As for the performance itself, the band sounded great. The lyrics came out of Murdoch’s voice clear and crisp, while the Philharmonic-backed music sounded lush and rich. Drawing heavily on material from Belle and Sebastian’s middle albums, “Dear Catastrophe Waitress,” was the most heavily represented in the set, and even though I’d never heard of the songs before, they sounded great to me.
In fact, the band only played one track (the title track) from “If You’re Feeling Sinister,” and only played “Sukie in the Graveyard,” from the newest album. While I’d been curious to see how The Life Pursuit would sound live, I can’t really complain with their decision to avoid playing it live. There’s always something admirable about a band who doesn’t feel obligated to play the entirety of their latest album, relying instead on more obscure choices from their discography.
The high point of the set (and there were a lot of stellar ones) was the band’s encore. Coming out without the Philharmonic, Belle and Sebastian played “The Boy With the Arab Strap,” to the thunderous approval of the crowd, who completely flipped their wigs and stormed the stage and the catwalk ringing the pit. As the band roared its finale, a line of dancers rocked out in tune. It was one of those moments where for a second, you forget the maddening self-absorption and traffic and smog and general calamity of this town, and decided that perhaps living in Los Angeles does have a few advantages.
As for the Shins, their set was also noteworthy. The band ran through an approximately hour-long set of tracks mainly from Chutes Too Narrow and Oh Inverted World. While I’d repeatedly heard of the band’s inadequacy live, I thought they did a solid job. Playing the Hollywood Bowl opening slot for a band like Belle and Sebastian isn’t the easiest task to do. Hey, even the Arcade Fire was slightly underwhelming opening for David Byrne last summer.
Live, the Shins also displayed a great deal more charisma than I’d expected, particularly from Marty Crandall, the group’s keyboardist. Throughout the entirety of the set, he poked fun at the Angelenos eating “caviar,” in the fancy white table clothed dinner tables in front of the stage. He even asked if “anyone went ghetto and picked up some Taco Bell or KFC to bring to the bowl.” In my opinion, Marty Crandall = funny. Surprisingly so.
For me, the strength of the Shins set (and to an extent, the Belle and Sebastian set as well) was that seeing the bands live put an emphasis on their lyrics. Unlike many rock singers who refuse to enunciate their words, the Shins’ lead singer James Mercer sang clearly and cleanly, allowing me to again appreciate lyrics that I’d heard dozens of times before. In addition to being talented musicians, both James Mercer and Stuart Murdoch are two of the most talented songwriters in rock music today.
The Shins also played several new songs off their forthcoming album, tentatively titled Sleeping Lessons. One of them “Phantom Limb” stuck out as particularly well-written and relatively catchy. From what I heard, I’m betting that the next Shins album will be as good as their first two, which would be quite an achievement.
All in all, a music lover couldn’t have wanted more. Two great bands, one backed by a world-class philharmonic at a great venue on a tranquil and breezy Los Angeles summer night. After the show ended, everyone in the booth discussed how incredible it had been. One of Dan’s friends who shared the box with us was an expert on Belle and Sebastian and had seen them at least half a dozen times previous. All he could say afterwards was, “I don’t think I’ll ever see them again. Nothing could top that.”
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Baseball cards have been in the news a whole lot over the past few weeks and I suspect it has to do with Major League Baseball and the baseball card manufacturer’s $7 million marketing campaign to remind a generation of children that baseball cards exist. I’m sure a whole lot of money on this campaign is directed towards PR reps to pester journalists to write stories about the decline of baseball cards and the hopes for the industry’s resurgence.
As you’ve probably heard Miami Vice came in at number one this past weekend, grossing $25 million. Sure, that sounds good on paper, but if you factor in that that it had basically no competition this weekend other than a third week Pirates of the Carribbean, this opening can only be looked at as a disappointment, particularly considering their grosses are likely going to be way down next weekend, when the 13-18 crowd is going to be spending their money on Talledega Nights, the new Will Ferrell NASCAR film. Well, that and 24-year old bloggers.
