Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man: Pearl Jam, Live in Virginia Beach, 6.17.08

This summer marks my 10-year anniversary of Pearl Jam concerts, a long, exciting, wonderful journey that has crossed eight states (and one nation’s capitol) over the course of 10 shows. Tuesday night in Virginia Beach was my 11th PJ concert, and even after all these years, something happened which I never could have imagined: Eddie Vedder threw me a tambourine.

But that’s at the end of the story. It started, as usual, with the Ten Club. Pearl Jam’s fan club is treating its member tickets a little different this year by randomly selecting people to fill Rows 1-2 and 9-10; previously the seating arrangement was based entirely on seniority, so the same people who have been in the club for nearly two decades always got the best seats in the place. Joining in ’98, my spot typically falls somewhere around the 20th row—not complaining, I assure you, but when I received my ticket Tuesday night and it put me in the dead-center of the second row … well, I was a bit shocked.

Our seats (I took my brother for his birthday) were literally right under frontman Eddie Vedder’s microphone, about 10 feet from the stage—closer than I’ve ever been, or could ever have hoped. I nabbed the photo at the top of this post from someone over at the Red Mosquito message board; if you look close, right in front of Ed, that's my bald head and arm raised high (my brother's head is just to the left, also above the crowd). My first glimpse of anything PJ-related was Vedder’s appearance during the last song of opener Kings of Leon’s set; he came out to trade verses and bash a couple tambourines. Very fun.

But the real deal started about five minutes before 9, when the band came on and drifted into “Long Road,” the same song they opened with during their last stop in Va. Beach back in 2000 (and, nicely enough, the very first song I ever heard them play in person, way back in Camden, N.J., in 1998). That show was a special and scary one for the band, as it marked their first performance following the June 2000 deaths of nine fans while PJ performed at a festival in Europe. That tragedy almost marked the end of Pearl Jam, and as Eddie would relate later, he wrote “I Am Mine” the night before that last Va. Beach show in a hotel room down the street from the venue.

After the opening strains of “Long Road,” my memory of Tuesday night’s concert comes in fits and spurts. At that close range, the music washed over and past me, as I was in complete sensory overload. I was too awestruck to even get goosebumps when some of my favorite songs were played. All 25 sort of blur into one another in my mind, swirling into a two-hour mist of holy-crap-I-cannot-believe-where-I-am goodness. Each song would register when I heard the opening notes, but then I would be back into the flow of the overall show and just lose myself in the feeling rolling off that stage. The most picture-perfect memories of the night are small things, like:

• During “Sleight of Hand,” a strong breeze picked up from the right side of the amphitheater just as Ed roared into the first chorus. He turned into the wind, raised his arms to the side, and it was almost as if he was flying, hair and shirt flapping straight out behind him.

• Several times throughout the night I made one-on-one eye contact with lead guitarist Mike McCready—I would raise my hand to him and he’d point at me and nod his head in between guitar licks. McCready and Vedder are the two dynamos in the live setting—they are constant motion (especially Mike) and I was constantly swinging my head back and forth between them like I was watching a tennis match. During “Severed Hand,” Mike played his entire solo with the guitar behind his head. He rarely stops moving the entire night.

• I couldn’t see drummer Matt Cameron well (he was blocked almost entirely by Vedder), but I swear there were a few times when I could hear his drum kit naturally, not through the speakers.

• Ed spits a lot in between lines—big, honkin’ loogies of spit. Oh, and he should stop smoking and drinking so much wine, and then maybe his voice wouldn’t start to get weary by the end of a two-hour show.

• Bassist Jeff Ament really digs down low at times, almost to the point where you think he’ll end up in the splits.

• Eddie holding the mic basically right in front of our faces from the very front edge of the stage to let us sing along to both “Jeremy” and “Alive.”

• It’s so much easier—and more fun—to act like a total crazy person when you’re that close. The band—especially Mike and Ed—do a lot to get the crowd up front involved, and definitely feed off it. My brother and I were jumping, bobbing, raising hands, pumping fists … basically all the clichés Blue Man Group make such good fun of during their concerts. And you know what? It’s totally fun. That’s why I don’t remember much about the individual songs (more on that in a bit)—I was too busy having the time of my life. Mike launched literally dozens of guitar pics into the first few rows, and he also handed out his setlist after the 1 hour, 30-minute main set. Jeff launched a wristband and a pic or two, and Matt threw a bushel of drumsticks out after the show.

And then there’s Eddie and his tambourines.

The big moment of the night came during the show’s closing song, the always welcome—and almost always epic—“Rockin’ in the Free World,” originally Neil Young’s but now fully owned by Pearl Jam. As is his wont during this free-for-all, Eddie beats the living crap out of as many tambourines as his roadies can toss his way, and then throws some out to the crowd. At one point, someone threw Ed a tambourine from the wing and Ed charged across the stage like a dog chasing a Frisbee, snagging it just before it hit the ground and letting his momentum take him all the way across the stage where he leaped over an amp. I’ve never even come close to catching one, but before the show started I mentioned to my brother, “Hey, maybe I’ll catch a tambourine,” mostly in jest, never thinking such a thing possible.

As "RITFW" drove on into the first big guitar solo break, Eddie did what Eddie always does during that part: he prowls the entire stage like a wild man, and occasionally pitches around some tambourines. I was pretty sure I had made some good eye contact with Vedder throughout the night—he really couldn’t miss me, as I was right in front of his face with a big “Ramones” logo on my shirt. As he was getting ready to toss the first tambourine of the night he walked back toward the front center of the stage, looked right at me, pointed right to me with the instrument in hand so everyone around knew exactly who it was meant for, and threw it my way.

It came right to me, right in front of my face—a perfect throw—and I snatched it out of the air with one hand like a Frisbee. The whole thing happened in about 5 seconds, and I caught the tambourine before I even realized what was happening, reacting completely on instinct, and I honestly thank God for allowing me to catch it cleanly and not botch it up (if you know what my vision is like, and how hard it is for me to snag any object—football, basketball, baseball, Frisbee, whatever—then you understand my mix of elation and relief). It wasn’t until a heartbeat later, when I looked down and saw what was in my grasp, that I realized what had just happened; I held it aloft and screamed for all I was worth, my brother just about tackled me with joy, and then we went jumping mad for the rest of the song.

It’s hard to type what I’m about to type without sounding like a complete gushing fanboy, because I realize Eddie Vedder is just a guy, and I certainly don’t worship him like some sort of rock god. He drives me crazy half the time, as it is. But that being said, it gives me a flip of the stomach to know that, for one night, he could tell how much I love his music just by how into the show I was. This wasn’t a random gesture or some fluke. It was a very specific act. His throwing out tambourines is one way he thanks people that come to his shows, and the first person he thought to thank Tuesday night was me. In my head, I like to imagine he saw me at various times throughout the show and thought, "Man, that guy gets a tambourine tonight!" Though he certainly had no idea how much it would mean to me, it feels like a reward for 15 years of dedicated fandom. Two days later, it still makes me proud.

If you want to see it for yourself, here are two different angles I found on the Internet:

If you cue up this first YouTube version to about the 3:15 mark, watch the far right side of the screen. It's tough to see me, but you can definitely see Ed's point and throw. If you freeze it exactly at 3:29, you can see my blurry self holding the tambourine in my hand. I gotta tell you, this is so cool.




This next one is from Spin.com; cue it up to about the 50-second mark.




And here's another YouTube angle I found Friday, at about the 3-minute mark:




As for the show itself, I’ll need to hear the official bootleg in a few weeks to make a final judgment on how good it was—you know, when I can actually comprehend all that I’m hearing. It wasn’t as big a night for b-sides as I’d hoped, nor was it as long a set as they’ve played in the past, but I can attest through visual evidence that the band members had a great time up there, and that passed on into the audience. A few highlights of this nature that I do remember:

• “Insignificance” was probably my favorite performance of the night. One of the best songs off 2000’s “Binaural,” this version was intense and tight (despite an intro foul-up by Ed).

• Eddie’s aforementioned intro to “I Am Mine” was touching and remarkable. This one looked to be an early audible, which I think was inspired by Ed’s view of a gorgeous full moon hovering just above the lawn.

• Vedder had another quality song intro later, this one for “Betterman.” He mentioned there were some Iraq veterans in the audience that night, and that no matter what the band’s political beliefs—and whether they differ from the soldiers’—he hopes the veterans know the band does everything according to what it thinks is right, and hopes the soldiers understand Pearl Jam respects and loves them. It was an uncharacteristically composed, poignant political moment from Ed. Despite my difference of beliefs with him, if he was able to relate his thoughts this way from the stage (instead of his typical rambling, incoherent, drunken, immature, talking-points babble), then I wouldn’t mind if he takes a minute out of a show to share them. Here’s hoping there’s more like this to come.

• I didn’t realize it until someone on a message board pointed it out, but there were FIVE songs from “Yield”—one of my all-time favorite albums—on the setlist. “Faithfull” and “Lowlight” are particularly rare, while warhorses “Given to Fly” and “Do the Evolution” were particularly taut and excellent.

• “All Night” from 2003’s b-sides collection “Lost Dogs” has never done much for me on CD, but really takes off in the live setting—it seems to expand, adding extra brawn and fervor. A definite highlight of the night.

• Ed’s solo effort, “Guaranteed,” was a fantastic surprise. It’s the first time this tour he’s played anything off the “Into the Wild” soundtrack, so hopefully this trend continues, as well.

• And, finally, “Evacuation” had its first airing in nearly five years. I can understand why they don’t play this song anymore, because it basically shreds Ed’s vocal cords; it seemed like he did a pretty good job of protecting them Tuesday night, and this version sounded to me like there wasn’t any rust on it at all. Tremendous surprise—and, as a bonus, it means I’ve now heard every track off “Binaural” in concert, the only PJ album for which I can make that claim.


All right, that about does it for this show, which will certainly go down as one of the most memorable experiences of my life (wow, twice in one week!). I didn’t have a camera with me, but the nice person sitting/standing next to me brought her so-cool dad to the show, and he had a camera; they’re hopefully going to send me some photos, which I’ll post later (on a side note: a few minutes after Eddie threw a tambourine to me, he threw another one to her, so her dad took a pic of us holding them up as proof).

I’m going to Verizon Center in D.C. this Sunday for PJ’s show there. Like always, I have no idea what will happen, but I’m confident it will be something memorable. With this band, you come to expect the extraordinary.


Pearl Jam
6.17.08
Verizon Wireless Amphitheater at Virginia Beach
Running Time: Approx. 2 hours, 10 minutes

Pre-set:
Slow Night, So Long (Ed w/Kings of Leon)

Main Set:
Long Road
Corduroy
Severed Hand
All Night
I Am Mine
Small Town
Faithfull
Lowlight
Evacuation
Given to Fly
Green Disease
Not For You/Modern Girl (Sleater-Kinney)
Sleight of Hand
Even Flow
Wishlist
Insignificance
Do the Evolution
Rearviewmirror

First Encore:
Comatose
Why Go
Betterman
Jeremy

Second Encore:
Guaranteed (Ed solo)
Alive
Rockin’ in the Free World

Their Long Journey: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Live at Merriweather, 6.13.08

Robert Plant and Alison Krauss opened and closed their set Friday night at Merriweather Post Pavilion with the same two songs that begin and end their 2007 album, “Raising Sand.” Inhabiting the two hours in between “Rich Woman” and “Your Long Journey” was one of the best concert experiences of my life.

When I bought the tickets several months ago, I was disappointed the only stop near my home on this summer’s tour was an outdoor shed, when in so many other cities Plant and Krauss are playing smaller theaters. It didn’t take long, though, to realize I had nothing to worry about. Sure, small spaces are always nice, but it’s not like these two artists (especially Plant) aren’t used to winning over big crowds. If anything, witnessing these hushed songs stretch, fill, and enrapture such a large space was even more impressive and inspiring.

What made it even better was how they did it on their own terms. “Raising Sand” is a purposefully quiet album, built on the tension of restraint. This vibe continues into the live setting—rather than trying to rock and wail over top of the drunken rabble, their controlled performance demands attention from everyone. This was especially true of Krauss, standing up there in a flowing floor-length dress that radiated in the spotlight and wisped around her in the breeze. When she sings solo (think “Trampled Rose”) no red-blooded man can help but have the air driven from his lungs. It’s like she calls the audience to her and makes the venue smaller just by the clarity and beauty of her voice.

Plant’s name may come first in the marquee, but Krauss held the stage solo much more often. It’s her territory, after all—which he freely admits. Just before a tremendous version of “Nothin’,” he took a moment to share how nervous he was back when the “Sand” sessions were getting underway, as this Deep South bluegrass and folk—so unabashedly Americana—was a big stretch for him.

What I loved most about Plant’s performance was how generous he was onstage in relation to Krauss. “Nothin’” proved he can still bring it with nearly all the lion-maned bravado of three decades’ past, but he so clearly yields ground to Krauss when they sing together—and she back to him—so as neither one overwhelms the other, which could be so easy (especially for him). One of my favorite illustrations of this dynamic came early on during the Krauss-fronted “Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us”; while she remained in the spotlight at the front of the stage, Plant wandered to a microphone toward the back—over her shoulder and in the relative dark—and his accompaniment drifted in and out from there. This gracious give and take makes the moments when they both really let loose together—such as a thrilling version of Plant’s solo effort “In the Mood”—that much more remarkable.

My favorite part of the show came as the main set drew to a close, when the duo offered up a signature trio of songs. It started with “Nothin’,” Plant’s showcase on “Sand” and the closest he ever comes on that album to Led Zeppelin; when played live, the band (led masterfully by T. Bone Burnett) emphasizes even more the drastic differences between the song’s quick-change soft and loud moments.

That led into unquestionably my touchstone moment of the night: Plant and Krauss together on “The Battle of Evermore.” You really should go listen to this track from “Led Zeppelin IV” right now, and imagine Krauss’ angelic voice filling in on the background vocals. I’ve been listening to this song—in all its different iterations—for 15 years, and yet for some reason it never occurred to me how perfect it would be for this tour. When I heard the opening strains last night, the shocking of the connection between Krauss, Plant, and the song nearly brought tears to my eyes. I’ve rarely had a moment like it in more than 10 years of concertgoing. When they followed with “Please Read the Letter,” my favorite track off the album … well, it was just perfect.

There were so many other great moments, though. Their holding-back-so-much-it-hurts take on Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” is such a winner; on the complete opposite end of that spectrum is the rollicking, joyous version they’re doing of Zep’s “Black Country Woman,” a deep, deep cut off my favorite Zeppelin album, “Physical Graffiti.” I mentioned Plant’s “In the Mood” earlier, but what takes that tune over the top is the splicing in midsong of Krauss’ fervent take on the folk song “Mattie Groves.” And it goes without saying, I suppose, that her “Down to the River to Pray” is a showstopper.

Besides the roles they choose to play inside these songs, it’s just as fascinating to see how Plant and Krauss’ onstage dynamic works itself out, and how they challenge and complement each other. Plant is obviously over the moon in love—not with Krauss, but with the artistic endeavor they’ve undertaken. He’s been chatting in the press about how fulfilling this experiment has been, and the pleasure is written all over his face. There’s no fake, pandering banter between the two of them, which would so cheapen the entire thing. They never even address each other directly, and only rarely do they glance in the other’s direction except to mark cues. It’s clear both of them have found something here, made all the more special by how unlooked-for it was; they will have nothing to do with anything that would tarnish it in any way. The work stands on its own and does all the communicating between them that's needed.

I often wonder if Plant regrets any of the orgiastic excesses he engaged in during Zeppelin’s heyday, and what he thinks about those times when he’s being truly honest with himself. Maybe this album, this tour, this collaboration, is his way of seeking atonement through something so obviously pure and grounded in such sincerity. Of course, he may not regret a thing and “Raising Sand” is simply the most interesting thing he’s done in awhile.

Whatever it is that lies behind those eyes, Plant looks like a child filled with wonderment on Christmas morning, only he’s old enough and been around enough to know what a gift this experience truly is. He seems to be treasuring every second of it.

As have I.


UPDATE
Hooray! Found the setlist here!

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
Merriweather Post Pavilion
6.13.08
Running Time: 2 hours

Main Set:
Rich Woman
Leave My Woman Alone
Black Dog
Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us
Through the Morning, Through the Night
So Long, Goodbye to You
Fortune Teller
In the Mood/Matty Groves
Black Country Woman
Bon Temps Rouler
Shut It Tight
Trampled Rose
Green Pastures
Down to the River to Pray
Killing the Blues
Nothin'
The Battle of Evermore
Please Red the Letter
Gone, Gone, Gone (Done Moved On)

Encore:
You Don't Knock
One Woman Man
Your Long Journey

I'm in Today's Washington Post

Here

If you want the backstory, I'll be posting about it Monday on my association's blog.

30 Years of 'Darkness'

Bruce Springsteen's fourth studio album, "Darkness on the Edge of Town," turns 30 tomorrow. Though this anniversary isn't met with nearly (or any, really) of the hoopla surrounding its predecessor, "Born to Run," when that classic album reached the same milestone three years ago, "Darkness" remains my favorite Springsteen album.

I'm no Bruce historian, so I won't attempt to delve deeply into what makes this album so incredible—if you're looking for that, just Google-News its name today and I'm sure you'll come up with plenty of reading material from those better qualified to put this record in proper perspective (I wasn't even born yet when it came out, after all). I'll leave my piece at this: When the arguably "weakest" track is the beautifully elegiac "Factory," well, other artists should be so lucky. "Darkness" certainly isn't as accessible as "Born to Run," nor as uplifting, but that's exactly why I've come to love it the best out of all Springsteen's canon. It's darker, less romantic, more real, yet still hopeful in several key spots, most notably two of my all-time favorite tracks: "Badlands" and "The Promised Land." 

In fact, if I were to try and come up with my Springsteen Top 10 list, there might be four songs off "Darkness" that would crack that group ("Candy's Room" and the title track would be the other two, in addition to the dynamic duo mentioned earlier). Every song on this record is very good, and more than half are downright great. 

So if the only Springsteen you've ever heard is "Born to Run" or "Glory Days," do yourself a favor and pick up "Darkness on the Edge of Town." Give it a few spins, and hopefully you'll hear what I'm talkin' about. It must be one of the most underrated rock and roll classics of all time.

The Raconteurs: Live in D.C. (sorta)

In the latest in a series of "Shows Jeremy Was Dying to Go at the 9:30 Club but Missed Due to Circumstances Beyond His Control," NPR is broadcasting live again tonight, this time featuring The Raconteurs. 

They just finished the main set with a blistering version of "Blue Veins" from the 2006 debut album, and doggone if it didn't live up to all the hype I've heard about it. I've been trying to think for two years what this song reminds me of and wasn't able to put my finger on it until right now: This is Jack White's version of Zeppelin's "Since I've Been Loving You." And the album version doesn't do it justice. Wow.

I didn't catch the set from the very beginning, but you and I can both listen to the archive starting tomorrow when it's posted to NPR's music page. When I logged on about 40 minutes ago, they were just ripping into "Top Yourself" off the new album, leading right into "Old Enough," both two of my favorites from the new album. Hearing these and others from "Consolers of the Lonely" confirms for me the glowing review I wrote of that CD last week; these songs appeal much more to me than those on the first album. The songs from "Broken Boy Soldier" they've played tonight also sound excellent—stronger and harder than the recorded version—but they've also wisely selected only the four strongest tracks from that CD: "Steady As She Goes," "Store Bought Bones," the aforementioned "Blue Veins," and the title track.

Speaking to my brother about the new record, though, he clued me in to how the other side might feel. He still finds the first album superior because the new one sounds "just like The White Stripes." To that I say, "Uh, yeah. What's the problem?" 

OK, actually I say: No, it sounds like the elemental core of the Stripes expanded and taken in new directions not possible in the duo's highly structured format (despite the fantastic stretches they managed on last year's "Icky Thump"). But I do take that point under advisement. And it's not like I hated "Soldier." On the contrary, I liked it very much; I just prefer blues/country-rocker Jack White to pop-rocker Jack White.

One other note about what I'm hearing tonight over the Internet (and, wow, pretty nice sound for a live stream): The songs don 't sound quite as polished in person as I'd expect. I'm pretty sure that's on purpose, but it was a little startling. Spontaneity's one thing; sloppiness is another.

Still, would have loved to be there tonight, especially now as they're wrapping up with "Carolina Story." Bittersweetness. Ah well, at least all that government NPR money is actually doing me some good for a change.

‘Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull’

The new “Indiana Jones” installment (no, I’m not typing that unwieldy title again), is the kind of movie I need to see twice before making final judgment. Much like George Lucas’ other long-awaited project, 1999’s “Star Wars: Episode 1—The Phantom Menace” (what is it with this guy and bad monikers?), “Indy 4” has a veritable Molotov cocktail of insanely high expectations and longstanding goodwill. As a result, there’s no way after a nearly two-decade wait this movie could possibly live up to the hype; and, by the same token, Indy fans (like me) are probably willing—on first viewing—to overlook various disappointments because they (and I) are so glad to have their beloved haymaker-throwing archaeologist back in action.

I remember walking out of “The Phantom Menace” almost exactly nine years ago to the day and thinking I liked it, having been dazzled by all that updated lightsaber technique and what not. It wasn’t until the third viewing (yes, I’m ashamed to have seen it thrice in the theaters) that all the excitement finally ebbed and I realized what an awful train-wreck of a movie “Menace” truly is.

I don’t think the same will happen with “Indy 4,” but I doubt I’ll come back to this movie very often, either, the way I do its three predecessors. There were definitely highlights, but most of those were—like “Phantom Menace”—action driven. To be sure, director Steven Spielberg hasn’t lost his touch for delivering the goods on a good ol’ fashioned chase sequence. There are plenty in “Indy 4,” and they’re all basically spectacular.

But it’s the stuff in between and around those romps that leaves me wanting more. Spielberg and Lucas made absolutely the right choice by not trying to fake Indy’s age; the plot of “Crystal Skull” takes place 19 years after the events in the franchise’s last installment, “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.” But the showrunners don’t take that premise far enough—Jones’ age is only dealt with in sidelong glances. Early in the film, young co-star Shia LeBeouf’s Mutt asks Indy: “What are you, 80?” It’s a good line, and it gets a good laugh, but all is seemingly forgotten a few minutes later when Jones delivers a few nice punches and jumps from a moving motorcycle into a moving car. And even though Harrison Ford more than holds his own in these action scenes, the gutsier and more satisfying choice would have examined what it’s like for a fading hero to face his own physical limitations. That's a movie I'll watch more than once.

Matter of fact, it’s ironic that for a character so beloved, “Crystal Skull” doesn’t focus on him much at all. The central plot is so convoluted, Indy is forced to basically float from place to place so the script can do its heavy lifting and unravel the knot of a mystery that never really makes much sense. As a result, there are at times long stretches between action sequences with little more going on than characters standing around delivering expository dialogue—more precious character-developing screen time wasted. For his part, Ford seems torn between two ways of portraying Indy: he vacillates between the cynical world-weary stud who’s seen and done it all, and the old guy who doesn’t understand what the next generation of young whipper-snappers is all about.

All this is not to say I didn’t like “Indy 4,” because I did. LeBeouf is downright terrific in his role of a young greaser who enlists Jones’ help to find his kidnapped mother; the budding star injects some needed energy into the film, and he and Ford work quite well together. Despite his struggles in search of the correct Indy tone, Ford in spots reminds us all over again why we love Indiana Jones with his wisecracks and whip smacks. It’s a fun day out at the movies, with some laughs, some gasps, and some moments to cheer.

It’s just a shame that after so many years and so much wrangling over a story, somewhere along the line Lucas and Spielberg cut the heart out of their hero.

Grade: B-

'Iron Man'

For awhile there, I was ready to declare “Iron Man” one of the best comic-book-to-film adaptations of all time. Up until the last 15 minutes or so, that is, when apparently director Jon Favreau had his brain momentarily replaced by Michael Bay’s.

See, what makes this movie great is exactly what you’ve heard—and exactly what continues to push the movie’s box office receipts higher than anyone anticipated: Robert Downey Jr. gives a splendidly refreshing performance, anchoring a film that’s witty, funny, sarcastic, emotional, and thrilling. All that goes out the window, though, in the climax as Downey’s Tony Stark (dressed in the metal duds of the title character) fights the film’s villain (to give that away here would be spoiling too much); the battle royale is schlocky, chunky, cheesy, mindless, witless, and so filled with clichés and awful dialogue, I wondered how the same people who crafted such a wonderful movie to that point could have produced such drivel.

The ability to close a film with style and class is one of the characteristics that defines greatness in this genre (along with picking the right actor for the hero). Anybody can have two heavyweights go at it and blow a bunch of holes in each other and their surroundings. But the two prime examples of how to do it right begin and end with two sequels, “Superman II” and “Spider-Man 2,” where the heroes had to use as much brains as brawn to defeat their enemies; these two films had the guts to turn the action down a bit at the end, rather than ramping it up to ridiculous levels. “Iron Man” is without question a cut above the rest, but it's rather ironic that a story with one of the smartest superheroes in the canon could get so stupid so quickly.

But all that's not to say there isn't plenty to love about this movie. Like most of the genre’s biggest hits of the past decade, “Iron Man” is an origin story, and all credit goes to Favreau and crew for doing essentially the same movie we’ve seen over and over again (“Spider-Man,” “Batman Begins,” “Daredevil,” etc.), and still making it look and feel fresh. Of course, so much of that is keyed off the casting of Downey, who brings as much of his wit and roguish charm to this big-budget actioner as he has to so many of his more subtle roles in the past. He’s funny and heroic, yet not entirely likeable in all the right ways.

And much credit also should go to the special-effects folks at Industrial Light & Magic; though I was a bit wary of the footage released in the trailers, when Iron Man’s movements are put into context of the overall film, his presence is downright flawless. Downey’s first forays into the suit’s abilities are some of the most exciting moments in any comic-book movie I’ve seen, certainly rivaling Tobey Maguire’s work as Peter Parker and Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne in similar plots/films.

So, in the end, “Iron Man” is one of those increasingly rare treats: An action/adventure flick actually deserving of the term "blockbuster."

Grade: B+

The Raconteurs, ‘Consolers of the Lonely’

When The Raconteurs’ first album came out back in 2006, it sounded like a collection of tracks recorded on a lark in somebody’s garage. Which, of course, it actually was. Despite hype to the contrary about Jack White’s new endeavor with friend and fellow singer/songwriter Brendan Benson not being “just a side project,” that’s exactly what most of “Broken Boy Soldiers” sounded like, with rare exceptions (“Blue Veins”).

This is not to say “Soldiers” was a subpar effort; even these guys’ knock-offs are first rate. But their initial album meandered to the point it lacked a signature sound and focus, as if White and Benson tried too hard not to assert their influence over the other, adding up to a collection that was less than the sum of its parts.

All this has changed for the better on the Raconteurs’ new album, “Consolers of the Lonely,” released last month. This is what I was hoping for two years ago, a perfect fusion between White’s raw rock-and-blues power and Benson’s sublime pop/rock sensibilities. It’s focused, strong, and unabashed, thundering along with purpose and confidence.

We hear this right from the first track, “Consoler of the Lonely,” which starts with a loud, crunching guitar and sees the two leads deftly trade verses. As each enters the fray, the tempo and style change, almost like two different songs have been sewn together seamlessly. This isn’t even one of the five best songs on this album, and I would argue it’s still more exciting than anything on “Broken Boy Soldiers.” That’s how strong this record is.

From there it’s off and running through 50 glorious minutes of the most adventurous rock and roll you’re likely to hear this year. White offers up several rave-ups scattered throughout the album’s 14 tracks, including the breakneck lead single “Salute Your Solution,” the thrashing “Five on the Five,” and standout “Hold Up,” where Jack addresses both his throwback ideals and the love of a good woman.

Benson, meanwhile, does some of his best work on the album’s fourth cut, “Old Enough.” For the first few bars it sounds little different than one of the gems from his 2005 solo effort “Alternative to Love”—and then the fiddle and organ come flying into the scene and the song veers into some kind of ethereal, off-kilter country realm.

Benson has other highlights on the record, too (“Many Shades of Black,” for instance), but perhaps his greatest contribution is one of humility. It’s an obvious sign of White and Benson’s friendship that the latter is able this time around to let White take his rightful place as the band's leader. Nothing against Benson, certainly, but Jack White is one of the seminal artists of this decade. Besides basically singlehandedly making guitar heroics relevant for a new generation through his signature band, The White Stripes, have we already forgotten his contributions to 2003’s “Cold Mountain” soundtrack, or how he resuscitated Loretta Lynn’s career in 2004? So the fact that “Consolers of the Lonely” contains some of the best work of his life makes this album all the more remarkable—and essential.

I’m speaking specifically of three songs here, three essential cuts that stand up—and come downright close to surpassing—anything White has written to this point. “Top Yourself” is a country/blues epic, complete with what sounds like banjo plucking deep in the background and a sinewy electric riff that would sound just right on the Stripes’ “De Stijl” from 2000. It’s a cousin both musically and thematically to “You Don’t Know What Love Is (You Just Do What You’re Told)” from the most recent Stripes album, last year’s “Icky Thump.” Here White engages in tough love once again by imploring a woman to stand up for herself and break free of a bad relationship.

Next is “These Stones Will Shout,” the album’s penultimate track that serves as the Raconteurs’ version of Led Zeppelin’s “Over the Hills and Far Away.” The song starts soft but fervent on dueling acoustic guitars before calling down the hammer of the gods and exploding into classic-rock heaven.

And then there’s album-closer “Carolina Drama,” a twisty, wordy tale of a broken home and a son’s bloody, drunken quest for vengeance. In other words, here’s White’s take on one of his heroes, Bob Dylan.

The initial excitement surrounding the Raconteurs came down to one basic notion: If Jack White can do so much with just drums and a guitar in The White Stripes, what could he accomplish when backed by an entire band? It may have taken a couple years to find out, but “Consolers of the Lonely” finally answers that question with absolute certainty in what must be considered one of the best albums of 2008.

Grade: A

‘29 Years Before I Saw You’: The National at Messiah College, 5.3.08

So that’s what all the fuss is about. Okay, I get it now.

The National was one of the most buzzed-about bands of 2007, with their latest album, “Boxer,” landing at or near the top of many a year-end best-of list. Perhaps all that ginormous indie hype is why I stayed away; perhaps I just had too much other great music to listen to. But for whatever reason, I never got around to hearing “Boxer” last year.

So when I learned the Ohio-via-New York quintet was playing Messiah College, well, that was a no-brainer. A proving ground, of sorts. What better way to determine if they’re really worthy of all this chatter?

Going to a concert without knowing the band’s songs is a much different experience from seeing a beloved favorite. The group is either going to win you over or they’re not; with no pre-conceived notions or built-in goodwill, there’s no bias. The music has to stand on its own, has to reach out and grab you. The National have this territory covered.

It all starts with frontman Matt Berninger, whose deep, arresting baritone drifts in and out of the songs like a breeze, never overstated or trying too hard, yet impossible to ignore. It’s like his vocal is always there in the room, and he just takes the cover off and lets it out when the music requires.

The band surrounding him creates the perfect atmosphere to support Berninger’s strong-yet-whispy presence. Most songs are mellow, a mix between electric and acoustic, and some are downright quiet in true “indie” stylings these days. Even when the band revs up and gets loud, it’s still in a decidedly minor key (I guess—I’m no composer). The difference between The National and, say, Sufjan Stevens (whom I generally cannot stand) is Berninger’s voice; he does subdued with power that gives the band true gravitas. These songs are intimate and epic, precise and expansive, all at the same time.

The National played for about 80 minutes, and if I had to guess offered up about 15 songs. Knowing the material hardly at all, it would have been impossible to take notes on a setlist; I know they opened with “Start a War,” closed with two songs off the “Cherry Tree” EP, and in between played through a majority of “Boxer.” Particular favorites for me were “Slow Show,” “Mistaken for Strangers,” and “Fake Empire.”

Six years ago, I went to see Wilco for the first time under much the same circumstances. I didn’t know a single song when I walked into the venue, but wanted to see them live to find out for myself if all the accolades were genuine. By the end of a two-hour show, I knew I wanted to hear much, much more (and have basically spent the intervening time doing just that). I clearly remember the three-hour drive home from Columbus to Huntington playing “A.M.” over and over and thinking how well that album’s rootsy vibe fit with the wide-open countryside of the Midwest. I was hooked.

Last night, I left Messiah late amidst a slight rain, only rarely encountering other lights on a dark road, Berninger’s voice filling every nook of my car. I can’t think of a better setting for my first listen through “Boxer."

Yes, I’m hooked.


UPDATE
5.12.08

Thanks to this site, I now have a setlist (hooray!). From what I've read of other shows, the Messiah performance was only a couple songs short in the encore, which I'm assuming was due to the fact that Berninger was suffering from a cold. Interestingly, not a single song was played from their first two albums (much like the Snow Patrol concert I saw last year)—I wonder how the long-timers feel about that …

More than a week later, I'm stopping myself from listening to "Boxer" (and the rest of the albums) too many times so I don't wear them out. Here's the set from last weekend's show:

The National
Messiah College
5.3.08
Running time: 80 minutes

Start a War
Mistaken for Strangers
Secret Meeting
Brainy
Baby We'll Be Fine
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Abel
All the Wine
Racing Like a Pro
Apartment Story
Daughters of the Soho Riots
Fake Empire
Mr. November

Encore:
Wasp Nest (which Berninger said is a rarity, but I cannot confirm)
About Today

Eddie Vedder on the West Coast//Pearl Jam on the East Coast

Tonight Eddie Vedder wraps up an “experiment” he’s been working on since April 1, his very first solo tour. The results, without question, have been tremendous. Reviews of this all-too-brief West Coast swing have been overwhelmingly positive, and many are downright glowing; after listening through the set from April 7 in Berkeley (thanks again Fuel/Friends!), I certainly understand why. I have particular pathos for Whitney Pastorek’s thoughts posted to Entertainment Weekly’s PopWatch blog, but I’d refer you to Brian Cohen's Billboard report for a more balanced account (his assessment of Ed’s political acumen is spot on).

Vedder’s solo work on last fall’s “Into the Wild” soundtrack is what spurred this jaunt, but those songs make up only a small portion of the rather overtly structured set he’s been playing.

***Side note about “Into the Wild”: In my review of the soundtrack, I mentioned how I wished several of the songs were more fleshed out and edited to fit the film. I was hoping maybe that would happen in a live setting, but no such luck: “Setting Forth” and “No Ceiling” remain tantalizingly brief. Also, I did like the movie very much—much more than I thought I’d ever enjoy anything having to do with Sean Penn. It still embraced the hippie vibe a little too heavily, but not to the extent I figured it would, and the story, on the whole, was quite balanced and fair (much more so than, say, a “documentary” by Michael Moore). I give it an “A-,” but it’s the type of movie that, if you hate it, I certainly wouldn’t try and convince you otherwise; I would understand why.***

Anyway, just about all of Vedder’s choices—be they Pearl Jam songs or covers—are so good it’s tough picking out moments to highlight, so I’ll choose one of each. Undoubtedly the most impressive and moving moment from the PJ catalog is Ed’s own “Arc” from 2002’s “Riot Act.” To accomplish this vocal feat, he sings a melodic phrase into a recorder, which then repeats that phrase as he layers more and more on top, until the entire auditorium is ringing with a chorus of no words, just his still-vibrant baritone. It’s breathtaking on a bootleg; can’t imagine what it’s like in person—I got goosebumps just from the reviews. The cover choice is much more difficult, as there are so many incredible options, but I’ll go with Ed’s gorgeous, extended take on James Taylor’s “Millworker” for showing off not only his continued vocal prowess, but his underrated guitar skills, as well. (My wife's pick would be The Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away.")

And I’ll reserve a special honor for another cover, “Hard Sun” from “Into the Wild,” which at this point is more Ed’s song than the original author’s, anyway. Pastorek described it as “colossally triumphant,” and that’s right on. My utter love for this song STILL hasn’t diminished after all these months. It probably should have been my Song of the Year.

This brings me to Pearl Jam’s upcoming tour of the East Coast in June. It’s wishful thinking, of course, but I’m hopeful some of this solo-tour goodness carries over into the full-band experience. Vedder regularly offers a song or two by himself to open a night’s show, so maybe he’ll take this opportunity to do a little mini-“Into the Wild” pre-show set at each stop. And were he able to convince the band to play “Hard Sun” in full … well, that would just be the best thing ever, wouldn't it?

All this praise for Vedder & Co. is not to say everything is perfect in Pearl Jam-land, however. After my two shows in a couple months (woohoo!—see? I'm already excited) I’ll be too gushy to level much criticism, so I’ll mention now that recent events have me nervous as to PJ's future status as the most fan-friendly major band in the world, a title they’ve held unanimously since the beginning.

I have two complaints/concerns:

1. Vedder implemented a strict no-taping policy at his solo shows; some ingenious folks managed to slip in under the radar, of course, but any of their recordings that get posted online are quickly removed by the Ten Club (PJ’s fan organization). For a band who has gone out of its way to encourage taping and trading of its shows, I’m hoping this is just somehow tied into Ed’s “experimentation” vibe and not an official change in policy. It would diminish them in my eyes—quite a bit, actually.

2. Ticket prices for the brief summer tour are WAY up this time around: $15/ticket over the album tour from just two years ago and a whopping $25/ticket over 2003’s “Riot Act” tour. They’ve done a very good job at keeping prices relatively low for the bulk of their career, so this is extremely disappointing—I mean, we’re getting close to U2/Springsteen territory here. If this continues at the current rate, my days of multiple shows in one tour could be over, which is sad. Greedy, I know, but sad. And it speaks to a larger issue of credibility: How can Vedder write an album (“Into the Wild”) about shedding society’s consumer-mentality shackles and then turn around and jack up his ticket prices? And it’s not just PJ—his solo shows priced out at more than $60 apiece, and that’s BEFORE TicketBastard gets its hands around your throat. It’s troubling.

The Funniest Blog, well, Ever

Go read Stuff White People Like.

Right now. You won't be able to stop.

I particularly like this one on Whole Foods, this one on poor people, and, of course, this one on my boy, Barack Obama.

(Thanks again, Fuel/Friends)

Wilco: Live in D.C. (sorta)

So at this very moment I'm listening to Nels Cline absolutely shred his solo for "Impossible Germany," thanks to NPR's live webcast of tonight's Wilco show at the 9:30 Club.

This is a bittersweet moment. It's awesome to hear this show unfold in real time, as the band sounds incredible (major kudos for going back and filling in the gaps with basically ALL the older material). But it's pretty painful to know one of my favorite bands is playing only a few miles from my house and I'm sitting at my computer because the tix sold out before I even knew this concert existed.

Oh, man. "It's Just That Simple." They're going waaaay back (what I would've given to be at those five Chicago shows from last week, where all this stuff reawakened—if you'd like to hear one, go here). Wow, they sound great.

Tweedy: "We looked at a bunch of old setlists from D.C. and tried to play a bunch of songs we've never played here before."

Go ahead, keep twistin' that knife.

"Someday Soon." Indeed, please come back soon. I'll be ready next time, I promise.

UPDATE
11:16 p.m.
"Casino Queen"

Yeah, good job outta me missing this show.

Well, Then Allow Me to Retort: My 100, er, 125 Favorite Songs of the ’90s

Two months ago, my boy Tobin posted his “Top 100 Songs of the 90s,” in response to VH-1’s similar list (which he justifiably despised). His work inspired me to come up with my own reckoning, represented here.

My list is nowhere near as good as Tob’s, because 1) I couldn’t cut down to only 100 (200 probably would have been better!), and 2) I didn’t have the guts to rank them like he did. (If you're curious—and I can't imagine you would be, but anyway—we only overlapped on 12 songs.) What made this chart particularly difficult was deciding whether or not a particular song was still worthy of inclusion; there are tons of songs/bands I used to love (311, Third Eye Blind, Metallica, and Hootie & the Blowfish, just to name a few) that aren’t represented on this list because I really don’t listen to them anymore, so their songs have fallen out of favor. Other bands who had great songs in the ’90s didn’t cross my radar until this decade (Wilco, PJ Harvey, Bruce Springsteen). And still other bands had songs I haven’t listened to in years but, when I popped them back in the CD player, still held up (Bush, Live, and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones apply to this category, among many others).

In other words, this list would have looked vastly different had I compiled it on Dec. 31, 1999. But as it stands now, here are 125 songs from the ’90s that still mean something to me—past, present, and, maybe, the future:

1. A Shot in the Arm, Wilco

2. Alive, Pearl Jam—Has gotten even better with age

3. All Along the Watchtower, Dave Matthews Band via Bob Dylan

4. Angel, Pearl Jam—Back when the Christmas singles were still awesome; pity the whole Dave A. thing means this little gem will never be played live again

5. Ava Adore, The Smashing Pumpkins—Even more powerful when performed live with Jimmy
Chamberlin on drums

6. Bed of Roses, Bon Jovi—There’s a lot wrong with this band, but I love this song

7. Better Days, Bruce Springsteen—A highlight during a rather low period of his career

8. Betterman, Pearl Jam—Best PJ concert singalong

9. Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve—Ah, “Cruel Intentions”

10. Breath, Pearl Jam—Unlike “Leash,” there’s more to this song than just not being played live in a long time

11. Breed, Nirvana

12. C’mon Billy, PJ Harvey

13. Cannonball, The Breeders—Sad that I knew who the Breeders were before I knew the Pixies

14. Casino Queen, Wilco—The first Wilco song I fell in love with; there were many more to follow

15. Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns, Mother Love Bone

16. Clubbed to Death (Kurayamino Mix), Rob D—“The Matrix” is a special movie to me in more ways than one

17. Comedown, Bush—I know they got crushed by critics, but they put on a great live show

18. Corduroy, Pearl Jam—This song was played so much on the radio it wore out on me quickly, but I’ve come to love it once again

19. Crush, Dave Matthews Band—Several songs on this list hold specific sentimental value; this is one of them

20. Dancing Nancies, Dave Matthews Band

21. The Day I Tried to Live, Soundgarden—I’m surprised this CD still works, I played it so much in high school

22. The Distance, Cake

23. Do the Evolution, Pearl Jam—At one point my no-questions-asked favorite PJ song; now I’m not sure which one is

24. Down By the Water, PJ Harvey

25. Drown, The Smashing Pumpkins

26. Dry the Rain, The Beta Band—I will now sell three copies of The Beta Band …

27. Dyslexic Heart, Paul Westerberg

28. Even Better Than the Real Thing, U2

29. Fell on Black Days, Soundgarden

30. Fireworks, The Tragically Hip

31. Freak on a Leash, Korn

32. Free Girl Now, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

33. Gel, Collective Soul

34. Gift Shop, The Tragically Hip

35. Given to Fly, Pearl Jam—I can remember where I was the first time I heard this song; one-third of the “Yield” trifecta of perfection

36. Gone, U2—For some reason I love several songs with this title, but this is the best one

37. Granny, Dave Matthews Band—My favorite DMB song

38. Greedy Fly, Bush

39. Guerilla Radio, Rage Against the Machine

40. Gun, Uncle Tupelo

41. Hard to Imagine, Pearl Jam

42. Hell of a Hat, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

43. Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me, U2—The first U2 song I ever loved; still one of my top-10 faves

44. High, Jimmie’s Chicken Shack—I haven’t listened to this song in nearly a decade because … my roommate borrowed this CD and loved it so much, he never gave it back!

45. Highway 61 Revisited, PJ Harvey via Bob Dylan

46. Hunger Strike, Temple of the Dog—Hello, Matt Cameron, we’ll be seeing you again in about eight years

47. I Am a Patriot, Eddie Vedder via Steve van Zandt—One of my first “What? You can download live music on the Internet?!?” songs

48. I Got You (At the End of the Century)—One-third of the “Being There” trifecta of uptempo, rockin’ out perfection

49. I’ll Stick Around, Foo Fighters—One of the best drum intros ever

50. If I Should Fall Behind, Bruce Springsteen—This song played at my wedding

51. Immortality, Pearl Jam—I still have no clue what this song is about

52. The Impression That I Get, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones—Released just before high school graduation, it will always bring back memories of that time, both good and bad (but mostly good)

53. In Hiding, Pearl Jam—One of Stone Gossard’s best riffs, and he’s had a bunch

54. Indifference, Pearl Jam—I am apparently one of the few Pearl Jam fans who doesn’t like “Vs.” all that much (on a PJ-relative scale, of course)

55. It’s Good to Be King, Tom Petty—This song kills in concert

56. Jenny Says, Cowboy Mouth—Great hook, meant to be played at maximum volume

57. Jimi Thing, Dave Matthews Band—I’ve never smoked pot, but I still love this song

58. Joining You, Alanis Morissette

59. Jump Right In, The Urge

60. Killing in the Name, Rage Against the Machine—This track holds a special place in my heart for a very specific reason: In college I had a sorta feud with a professor; one day he brought his class over to the grassy area outside my dorm, so we put the speakers in the window and cranked this sucker up as loud as we could. The chorus (yeah, you know how it goes …) was rather appropriate for the situation. He didn’t leave (then), but it made me feel better.

61. Lakini’s Juice, Live—I managed to see their set at the ’98 Tibetan Freedom Concert before the lightning struck and ruined everything

62. Landslide, The Smashing Pumpkins via Stevie Nicks

63. Long Road, Pearl Jam—First PJ song I ever heard in person

64. Lounge Fly, Stone Temple Pilots—Hard to pick favorites off this album, one of my all-time faves

65. Lover Lay Down, Dave Matthews Band

66. The Man Who Sold the World, Nirvana via David Bowie—I was anti-Nirvana for the longest time … then I finally came around, largely because of this album (and this song)

67. Mayonaise, The Smashing Pumpkins

68. Monday, Wilco

69. Murder Incorporated, Bruce Springsteen

70. Muzzle, The Smashing Pumpkins—All-time favorite Pumpkins song

71. No Excuses, Alice in Chains

72. No Way Out, Stone Temple Pilots—I don’t like Velvet Revolver

73. Not For You, Pearl Jam—I was obsessed with this song for a period of time

74. Nugget, Cake—One of the best repeated uses of the f-word you’ll ever hear

75. O Stella, PJ Harvey—What a stunning debut album

76. Off He Goes, Pearl Jam—One of the few PJ tracks that’s better on the CD than in concert

77. One, U2—It’s too bad this has been turned into a fund-raiser

78. One Sweet World, Dave Matthews Band

79. One Time Too Many, PJ Harvey—First of her songs I ever heard

80. Outtasite (Outta Mind), Wilco

81. Pennyroyal Tea, Nirvana

82. Please, U2—One of the band’s most beautiful songs, and that’s saying something

83. Porch, Pearl Jam—I turned into a complete moron the first time I heard this live (they didn’t play it that much at the time, okay?)

84. Present Tense, Pearl Jam—I’ve always wished they’d carried the jam section out a bit longer

85. Red Right Hand, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds—This is all wrapped up in my love for “The X-Files”

86. Release, Pearl Jam—One of Eddie’s best moments on every level

87. Right Place, Wrong Time, The Screamin’ Cheetah Wheelies—This one’s for you, Nate!

88. River of Deceit, Mad Season

89. Rock Is Dead, Marilyn Manson

90. Room at the Top, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

91. Rooster, Alice in Chains—Another fabulous Unplugged session; with all the crap that’s on MTV, why can’t they bring that show back with regularity?

92. Rusty Cage, Johnny Cash via Soundgarden

93. Sabotage, Beastie Boys—Perfection

94. Scar Tissue, Red Hot Chili Peppers—Summer ’99 was one of the best times of my life

95. She’s a Jar, Wilco

96. Shit Towne, Live

97. Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, R.E.M.

98. Sleep to Dream, Fiona Apple—Where is she, by the way?

99. Song 2, Blur—Woohoo! You’ve heard it a million times, but you know you still love it

100. The Song That Jane Likes, Dave Matthews Band—They were so great … for a little while

101. Sonic Reducer, Pearl Jam via Dead Boys—Even after who knows how many listens, still gets my blood racing

102. Spin the Black Circle, Pearl Jam—This was the first cut off “Vitalogy” I played for a friend right after it came out and he said: “I am buying this!”

103. St. Joe and the School Bus, Marcy Playground—I listened to this CD again not too long ago and, you know what, it’s not too bad

104. Stop Breaking Down, The White Stripes—The hipsters still prefer this original, ultra-raw version of the band; I do not

105. Super Bon Bon, Soul Coughing

106. Timeless Melody, The La’s

107. To Bring You My Love, PJ Harvey—Ferocious

108. Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart, Stone Temple Pilots—This song is pretty tough on “Guitar Hero”

109. Unglued, Stone Temple Pilots

110. Until the End of the World, U2—On a given day, this could be my favorite U2 song

111. Via Chicago, Wilco—A must-play any time I fly home through O’Hare; I know that’s cheesy, but I don’t care

112. Victory, PJ Harvey

113. Waiting for Somebody, Paul Westerberg

114. Wake Up, Rage Against the Machine—Fly, Neo, Fly! And never come back in any sequels! Please!!!

115. The Wanderer, U2 feat. Johnny Cash

116. Wash, Pearl Jam—I bought “Ten” again in Italy just for this song

117. Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key, Billy Bragg & Wilco via Woodie Guthrie—Fabulous backing vocals from Natalie Merchant; she should probably be on this list somewhere else, too …

118. We’ve Been Had, Uncle Tupelo

119. When I Come Around, Green Day—They had a ton of great songs in the ’90s, but I was never a huge fan

120. Where Is My Mind?, The Pixies—Ah, “Fight Club”

121. Where the River Flows, Collective Soul

122. White, Discussion, Live—I hadn’t listened to this album in yeeeeears, and had forgotten how good it is

123. You Wreck Me, Tom Petty

124. Youngstown, Bruce Springsteen—The live version is stunning

125. Zooropa, U2—Otherwise known as my William Gibson/Senior Year of College soundtrack


And, yes, if you’ve read this far you realize there were a lot of Pearl Jam songs in there. Shocker, I know, but I still cut some that hurt (“In My Tree,” especially). Based on number of songs on this list, here are my top 5 bands of the decade:

Pearl Jam (21)
Dave Matthews Band (8)
U2 (8)
PJ Harvey (7)
Wilco (7)

Crossroads, Indeed: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Live (on TV)

Robert Plant was absolutely right to screw the Led Zeppelin reunion in favor of touring with new musical partner Alison Krauss. This is the show to see this summer (tour dates are here and here, and tix go on sale soon). This is here, this is now, this is fresh, this is exciting, this is challenging, this is progressive. This is moving forward, not looking back.

Earlier this month CMT aired Plant and Krauss’ episode of “Crossroads,” and it is a thing to behold. The show features several cuts off the duo’s 2007 collaboration, “Raising Sand,” but also includes versions of the singers’ own tunes—performed by their counterpart. Plant’s solo take on “The Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn” is stirring, but it’s Krauss who will drive the breath from your lungs with her achingly gorgeous performance of “When the Levee Breaks,” violin solo included. And then the two combine to conquer Zeppelin’s “Black Dog,” which starts out quietly with a banjo, then simmers to an overflowing boil by the end as the rest of the band kicks in to surround and support the two vocalists.

Certainly not to be outdone, however, are the choice cuts from “Raising Sand.” Lead single “Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On)” kicks the show off on the right foot, while “Rich Woman” shuffles along with even more power than on CD. Plant’s “Please Read the Letter,” my favorite track on the album, is a showstopper.

Sprinkled in between the songs are clips of Plant and Krauss sitting around a table talking about the project, and their discussion provides insight into not only the recording of the album, but themselves, as well. They relate how producer T. Bone Burnett challenged each of them to break down their own boundaries. For Plant, that meant restraining his trademark “masculine” bravado and finding out where he fit in this new style of song; for Krauss, it meant matching Plant’s intensity and singing songs from a narrative male perspective.

The dynamics between the duo onstage are fascinating to watch, too, as this taping had to be one of the first times (if not the very first) the two had performed these songs in front of an audience. I don’t know if the cuts were revealed on the show in the order they were played live, but it sure seemed like Krauss warmed up and got more comfortable with the whole thing as the night wore on; Plant, meanwhile, seemed like he was doing his very best to contain his natural lionine stage persona so as not to overwhelm the whole process. The tension serves both of them well.

And the music. Wow, as is typically the case with great performers, it’s even better in the moment than it is on the CD. The band (and especially Plant) cuts loose a bit more and gives the songs a bit more heft, more straightforward power (I’m thinking specifically here of “Rich Woman”). I look forward to hearing “Nothin’” this summer, as it is the heaviest track on the album and should simply explode live on stage.

So of course I’m recommending you watch “Crossroads” and check out the tour if it comes your way. But more than anything, if you haven’t heard “Raising Sand” yet, you’re doing yourself a great disservice. “Crossroads” just confirms what I’m starting to realize: This is one of my favorite albums of all time.


UPDATE: For some reason, this is one of the most popular posts on the site and people are landing here from all over. First off, welcome, and thanks for reading. Second, if you're interested in my thoughts on actually seeing Plant and Krauss in person, you can read them here.

Who'da Dunk It?

Tonight, a legend was born, and his name is Dwight "Superman" Howard.

What the 6-11 Orlando Magic center did in the 2008 NBA slam dunk contest will be talked about for as long as the National Basketball Association continues to exist. It was the best series of dunks I've ever seen. At least as good as Michael Jordan in 1988. Better than Vince Carter in 2000. Better than … everybody else. Any other player would have won the whole thing pulling off just one of his throwdowns, and Howard gave us four masterpieces back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

And it wasn't just about Howard's size. It's amazing enough to see a 265-pound behemoth fly through the air and ram the ball home, but Howard completed his attempts with a style, grace, and sense of the moment that equaled Jordan. Like Jordan, Howard not only did things we've never seen before, but things we'd previously thought no human was capable of. Throwing down a blind, left-handed jam from behind the backboard? Seeming to defy gravity and hanging in the air for a windmill slam—after plucking the ball off a stationary perch on the board? Tipping the ball to himself off the glass after leaving his feet? Donning a freaking Superman cape and then taking off from the foul line?!?! It was the kind of thrilling exhibition I wished would just keep going until Howard couldn't leap anymore. I hope he defends his title for the next decade because, watching tonight, it felt like he has a whole bag full of tricks left. He just made it look so easy.

It would be rash to predict that this one performance will change the course of basketball like MJ did back in '88. But one thing's for sure: Howard's name is now emblazoned on the game in a way few others' are. He is now synonymous with the slam dunk contest, and he will never be the same.

If Jordan made us believe a man could fly, Howard tonight made us believe giants can, too.

I Have Seen the Future of Sports on TV …

… and its name is NHL hockey in high-definition. More specifically, Alex Ovechkin in HD.

For reasons I still don’t quite understand, I was a passionate hockey fan as a child. I followed the Caps on a game-by-game basis, even though they were only slightly better than mediocre and always seemed to lose to the Penguins in the playoffs. My favorite player back then was powerful defenseman Dino Cicarelli, who owned one of the hottest slapshots in the entire league.

I also don’t know when my passion for hockey faded, but by the time I left home for college, I could care less. And why should I? By that time the National Hockey League was beginning a long downward spiral that eventually led to contentious labor negotiations and the cancellation of the 2004-05 season. The NHL was left for dead.

HDTV may just be its defibrillator.

Hockey has always been known for its thrilling in-person experience, but the energy, speed, and violence never quite translated to television—until now. Believe me when I tell you the game looks completely different in high-def. It’s a revelation. Under the old broadcasting system, the camera zoomed all over the rink in an attempt to keep up with the puck, a narrow focus that oftentimes left hardly any players in view; with HD’s significantly wider camera angle, the entire zone (from the blue line to the goal) is in the picture at all times, and you can actually see the plays develop. You can see a brawny defenseman line up a bone-jarring hit from the other side of the rink. You can see a wily winger move into an empty hole and wait for a perfect pass.

Which brings me to one Alex Ovechkin.

Ovechkin is the Capitals’ 22-year-old Russian phenom. A left winger, Alex the Great (to pick one of about a dozen nicknames), leads the NHL in goals (42), points (70), and power play goals (16). Last night against Montreal, he scored 4 goals, including the game-winner in overtime (he also assisted on the team’s other goal).

He is, quite simply, Michael Jordan on ice skates. And anyone who knows me should also know I don’t make that comparison lightly. Like Jordan, Ovechkin makes every other player around him look slower, less coordinated, … dimmer. Like Jordan, Ovechkin seems to be able to enforce his will on his competition, and seemingly with ease. Like Jordan, Ovechkin is magnetic to watch, and you expect him to do something spectacular on every shift—he seems to make plays on a regular basis most other players could only dream of accomplishing once in their careers. The intensity of the game picks up when he jumps on the ice, and he puts incredible pressure on opposing goalies.

And, perhaps most important, like Jordan Ovechkin may have found his own Scottie Pippen in center Nicklas Backstrom, a rookie from Sweden who is helping to take Ovechkin’s game to a new level. Since he moved to Ovechkin’s line, Washington’s been on a tear; the Caps won nine games in January, the first time the team’s earned that many victories in a month in decades. The Caps’ scoring is through the roof, sparked by the dynamic duo’s aggressive play. They are pure joy to watch.

I certainly have no idea if the NHL will ever regain even a semblance of its previous popularity. What I certainly do know is that watching Alex Ovechkin play in high-def is downright intoxicating. If you don’t believe me, check out the video below. Then imagine that looking about a million times better.



Can you say Bulls vs. Lakers, circa 1991? Yeah, you know the play.

If anything can save this league, it’s No. 8 in full, glorious HD.

I’ve Been Watching a Lot of DVDs Lately …

… what with the writers’ strike and all. I’m surprised to realize I haven’t missed TV at all, but then again it’s only January. We don’t typically get a lot of new material until February, anyway, so thus far the hiatus feels rather normal. A few more months of this could get really old, especially if we only get eight episodes of “Lost” instead of the originally scheduled 16.

The strike has allowed me to catch up on some movies, at least, so here’s a roundup of what’s been in my DVD player recently:

“The Game Plan”
I absolutely loved Dwayne Johnson when he was layin’ the smack down in the WWE as The Rock—he’s my favorite (and best) professional wrestler of all time. All that goodwill and Johnson’s natural charisma are the only things that got me through this clunker. There are a few funny scenes, but overall it’s as painful as a quarterback sack. I cannot believe it took three people to write this. It’s like “Three Men and a Baby” with about 3 percent of the laughs.
Grade: C-
(If you want a movie from the same genre that gets everything right, I recommend “Enchanted,” especially for a glowing performance from Amy Adams that will leave you smiling long after the credits roll.)

“Hellboy”
Finally got around to seeing what has been called one of the best comic book adaptations of all time. I certainly wouldn’t agree with that assessment, but it’s an enjoyable ride for the most part. Ron Perlman is amazing as the big red title character, but writer/director Guillermo del Toro loses his way in the oversized final act; “Hellboy” gets away from the wit and sarcasm it does best while trying to wrap up the nearly incomprehensible plot.
Grade: B

“Knocked Up”
The rare movie that lives up to the hype. Basically a pitch-perfect comedy, but too many raunchy elements to recommend to any and all. Still, Katherine Heigl made a fan out of me, and writer/director Judd Apatow manages to deliver a heartfelt message (and even somewhat wholesome, from a certain point of view) without succumbing to cliché.
Grade: A-

“Pan’s Labyrinth”
Once again, Guillermo del Toro doesn’t quite live up to the hype. One of the best reviewed movies of 2006 didn’t bowl me over the way I was expecting (I remember hearing phrases bandied about like “a reimagining of the fairy tale” or some such thing). “Labyrinth” is really good, but it didn’t leave me pinned to my seat or even that emotionally engaged. A nice story, to be sure, and well done, just not the monumental experience I was hoping for. Perhaps that’s not del Toro’s fault, but such are the times.
Grade: B+

“Reign Over Me”
An interesting premise makes for a better trailer than an actual movie in this case. Don Cheadle and especially Adam Sandler make much more out of their roles than what’s on the page in a wandering and over-sentimental script. Sandler gives his best performance since “Punch-Drunk Love,” but his good work goes to waste by the time we enter one of the worst courtroom scenes you’re likely to see. Throw in some pat personal revelations for Cheadle’s character and a failed attempt at import via a forced impassioned soundtrack, and “Reign Over Me” comes up feeling more scattershot than Sandler’s character.
Grade: C+

“Superbad”
Knockdown hysterical for the first half-hour or so, but this one wore out its welcome pretty fast. Jonah Hill maintains only the same squealing pitch throughout, and he begins to grate soon after the convenience store gets robbed. And it just so happens that scene ushers in Seth Rogen and Bill Hader as two bumbling police officers who also have way too much screen time. Thank goodness for Michael Cera.
Grade: B-

“Waitress”
Quirky, funny, and generally heartwarming, with great performances all around, especially from Andy Griffith in an Oscar-worthy turn as a curmudgeon with a soft heart. The only thing that kept me from loving this movie is the fact that it centers around two otherwise lovable characters engaging in an extra-marital affair; it’s hard to root for adultery. Overall, though, “Waitress” was the first in a trilogy of excellent I’m-keeping-the-baby movies in 2007.
Grade: A-

My 11 Most Memorable Films of 2007

So the Academy Award nominations are out and … oh, sorry, must have nodded off there for a second. It’s the same story Oscar’s been telling us for the past several years: Four movies of dark, depressing material with one light-hearted affair thrown in for color. I find it all very boring, and have for quite some time. It wasn’t always like this, so I’m working on a theory that the past few years are a reaction to “Return of the King” winning it all in 2004, or somehow this is about the Bush administration, as most everything else in Hollywood seems to be.

Either way, I won’t be watching the show next month (in whatever form it takes), even though I do actually have a horse in this race for a change. But more on that film in a moment. Here are, in order, the 11 films that made the biggest impact on me in 2007:



1. 300
This was without a doubt the most surprising and memorable movie experience of the year for me. I wasn’t expecting much when I sat down in the theater—I thought the trailers looked kinda dumb—but I walked out two hours later with a feeling I hadn’t had since “The Matrix” back in 1999: Like I had just watched something truly original, something destined to change the face of filmmaking for years to come (for better or worse).

With “300,” director Zack Snyder finally achieved what so many before have tried but couldn’t get quite right: Translating a graphic novel into a film in as literal a way as possible (no, I wasn’t a huge fan of “Sin City”). Of course, it helps that Gerard Butler anchored the whole thing with his star-is-born turn as Spartan King Leonidas; Butler (and the rest of the cast, for that matter) took the material so seriously and treated it with such respect, it turned what could have been simply ridiculous amounts of blood and bravado into a work of art. Snyder, Butler & Co. gave “300” the heart and soul it needed to become more than just a flick for teenage boys, with its themes of love, honor, loyalty, bravery, conviction, betrayal, and corruption.

Like “The Matrix,” “300” is a watershed film that will be remembered, celebrated, maligned, and, unfortunately, imitated for years to come. Truly remarkable stuff.



2. Juno
What a joyous movie. I love it so much, I feel like I should just make a list of my top 25 favorite things about it—but that would get tedious, so I’ll settle for just a few. I loved how we get to know every character just like if we’d met them in real life: We’re presented with a superficial first impression, then discover the real person behind that façade as time goes on. I loved how a baby’s life was treasured in this film, not glossed over, dismissed, or discarded. And I absolutely adored Jennifer Garner’s performance as a mother-in-waiting; it would have been so easy for her to slip into cheesiness, but instead she embodied heartfelt sincerity, reminding me of why so many of us fell in love with her way back at the beginning of “Alias.”

“Juno” will make you laugh and make you cry. It will destroy your faith in humanity, then redeem it. It is the movie you love all the more every time you reflect on it. It is the best movie of 2007.



3. Immagine in Cornice
Pearl Jam’s latest video release offers an all-access vantage point never before seen in the group’s previous live DVDs. As someone who has obsessively followed the band’s setlists for a decade, the glimpses of Eddie Vedder & Co. crafting each night’s show as they toured Italy gave me goosebumps (as did many, many other moments). “Immagine” is certainly the best looking of PJ’s five video documents, and it does a perfect job of demonstrating the commitment to each and every concert that makes Pearl Jam the standard-bearers for live rock and roll, even after 15 years together. If anyone were to ask me why I continue to love this band, I give you “Immagine in Cornice” as an answer.



4. The Bourne Ultimatum
If ever an action film and its star should have been nominated for an Academy Award, this is the, er, ultimate example. Matt Damon has redefined the genre with his down-to-earth portrayal of Jason Bourne, leaving 007 to follow meekly in his wake.



5. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
The Potter films tend to get short shrift because a) the books are so good, and b) critics frown on franchises in general. But the past three entries in this film franchise have been downright excellent, with “Phoenix” the best of the bunch. This movie is veritably overflowing with wonderful performances from the likes of Gary Oldman, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, and a should-have-been-Oscar-worthy tour de force by Imelda Staunton. And let’s not forget Daniel Radcliffe, who really came into his own this time around as The Boy Who Lived is growing up into a man. With millions upon millions of fans literally critiquing his every move, he holds his own remarkably well, as does this fifth installment in the series.



6. Rescue Dawn
Christian Bale takes method acting to the brink in this gripping and, ultimately, uplifting tale of a Vietnam-era P.O.W. Providing two of the most intense hours I spent all year, Bale disappears into his role in a way few Hollywood actors can; his performance is so genuine and outstanding, and yet not showy in a way that would have overwhelmed the film. Writer/director Werner Herzog delivers a throwback gem that has the guts to celebrate the true spirit of America and its military with a deft hand that avoids any fake patriotic jingoism.



7. Ratatouille
Brad Bird delivered another winner with this delicious film for adults packaged as a kids’ movie. Pixar continues to astound.



8. American Gangster
Call it “Departed” fatigue. That’s my theory on why this spectacular—and superior—mob flick didn’t get more critical praise this fall (same phenomenon happened with “Ray” and “Walk the Line,” if you recall). A cross between “Heat” and “Scarface,” Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe both deliver Oscar-worthy performances as director Ridley Scott gives them room to breathe deeply and fully explore their characters.



9. 3:10 to Yuma
Christian Bale and Russell Crowe light up the screen with both their guns and their grit in this excellent Western remake.



10. Once
For lovers of music and star-crossed romances alike, “Once” was also painfully overlooked by the Academy. It’s not on an “Almost Famous” level, but it’s not trying to be, either. I didn’t hear much about it when it was released among the summer blockbuster titans, but it’s an absolute gem that provides a beautiful demonstration of the power of music to help people connect.



11. Zodiac
A poorly marketed crime drama that proves director David Fincher hasn’t lost a step, despite an unusual five-year span between films. Even at over 2.5 hours, time seems to fly as we follow the trail of the Zodiac killer along with a gaggle of investigators led by a brilliantly dour Mark Ruffalo. Though it doesn’t come to a resolution, Fincher and screenwriter James Vanderbilt nevertheless draw the film to a satisfying close—too bad the Coens didn’t follow suit.


One Final Note …
I just thought I’d mention how great 2007 was for movies. In the past few years I’ve had trouble coming up with even 10 films to list as “best” or “favorites,” and this year I included 11 and could have picked a couple more (“The Simpsons Movie” was excellent, and certainly one of the biggest Oscar snubs of recent memory for its lack of a nod in the animation category). I had an especially enjoyable summer at the movies, which hadn’t occurred in a while, either. Here’s hoping 2008 brings more of the same.

Standing in the Footprints of Giants: An Afternoon at Sun Studio

The photo above is from the inside cover of U2's "Rattle and Hum" CD, a project that saw the Irish quartet tour the United States in search of the roots of rock and roll. This photo was taken as the band recorded in the legendary Sun Studio in Memphis, Tennessee, considered the birthplace of rock. Sam Phillips' one-room studio gave rise to Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, B.B. King, and so, so many more.

So take one more look at the U2 photo, and then check out the one below:


Look familiar? It should, because I took it yesterday standing inside Sun from about the same perspective. Yes, that is the very same drum kit played by one Larry Mullen Jr. on "When Love Comes to Town," "Angel of Harlem," and "Love Rescue Me." (I apologize for the quality—I took all the photos you'll see in this post via my cellphone.)

Technically, I was in Memphis this weekend working on a story about Elvis' Graceland. Thankfully I wrapped up early enough Monday to swing over to Sun Studio and take the tour. It was, without doubt, one of the best experiences of my pop-cultural life.


This is the exterior of Sun. It's on the corner of a rather rundown section of Memphis, several blocks from Beale Street and the heart of the city. This shot may look familiar if you've seen the Cash biopic "Walk the Line." Unfortunately, the exterior featured in the movie was a replica; no scenes were shot at the actual recording studio.

The guy who gave the tour is a local musician who's served as an engineer at Sun for the past six years. The studio is still active and busy most nights (sessions start at 6:30 p.m.) A room above the studio that used to serve as a boarding house (Cash, Lewis, etc., all would stay there some nights during sessions) has been transformed into a mini-museum, allowing the guide to tell the story of Sun. It's OK, but the real stuff starts when you walk back downstairs into the studio itself.


Here's another shot of the studio, standing right in front of the drums I showed earlier. That's the tour guide on the left. And if you look carefully, there's an "X" on the floor straight ahead. That is the exact spot where Elvis stood when recording one of his songs; the guide said people kiss that piece of floor all the time, including Bob Dylan.

The absolute best part about Sun is that it's still a working studio, and so it gets used all the time. Unlike most historical sites—like Graceland, for instance—there are no velvet ropes separating visitors from the good stuff. They just let you wander around the room, poking at whatever you want (yes, I tapped on the drums). It makes the entire experience feel so real, so genuine. Here's another example:


I'm pretty sure the guide said the microphone in the foreground of this shot is the same one in the picture behind it. Regardless, the mic was definitely used by the King during sessions at Sun, and they just leave it hanging around in the studio for anyone who wants to touch it, lick it, fondle it … "You don't want to know what's been done to that thing," the guide told me, "and we don't clean it."

It was only me and one other guy taking the tour Monday afternoon, so our guide just let us hang out in there for about a half-hour, much longer than we would have been able to otherwise. He told us story after story, some he'd seen personally others he knew by legend. He said he's worked with more "famous" bands than he can remember, people who, like U2, want to record at Sun just for the inspiration. He said it's not uncommon for people to get nervous, queasy, and even vomit as they start their sessions; imagine sidling up to a mic and then glancing over at the photo of Elvis doing the same thing, or looking down at the floor and seeing that "X"—no pressure.

One of the best parts for me occurred when the guide played Cash's "Walk the Line" and U2's "Angel of Harlem," and knowing those cuts were recorded right where I was standing—I'll never listen to those tracks the same way again. I'll certainly never watch "Rattle and Hum" the same way, either. Cue up "Angel of Harlem" on the DVD if you want a better look at the inside of the studio; I came home and watched that scene again tonight, and it gave me another thrill. Yep, there's Larry, pounding away on that very same kit, and there's Bono, standing right on top of Elvis' "X."

There are several other photos donning the walls of Sun Studio, never to be touched. Here's one of Cash exactly where it was some two decades ago when "Rattle and Hum" was filmed; you can see it over The Edge's shoulder during "Angel of Harlem" on the DVD:


And here's one of Bono taken during the Sun session, now hanging over in the corner near the drums:


The whole experience at Sun Studio was just so anti- every other historical tour I've experienced. So refreshing. So unpretentious. So laid back. So … rock and roll.