UPDATE: More Music This Fall

My previous post about upcoming music releases came off the top of my head, so in the few days hence I've realized a few omissions. Here are a few more albums I'm looking forward to:

Pearl Jam, "Immagine in Cornice"/"Picture in a Frame" DVD (Sept. 25)
This portends to be a true documentary, the first behind-the-scenes look at Pearl Jam since 1998's "Single Video Theory," which documented the recording of the band's classic fifth album, "Yield." Since then, PJ have released several excellent concert DVDs (my favorite: "Touring Band 2000"), but the trailer looks like this could provide a look at the band fans have never seen. Exciting stuff.

The Hives, "The Black and White Album" (Oct. 9)
Though their albums only last about a half-hour, it still takes this Swedish punk/rock outfit a long time to come up with a new album, so that means they're usually good. Judging by lead single "Tick Tick Boom," it sounds like not much has changed, and that's a good thing. I'll be seeing these guys in a small club the week after the album comes out, and can't wait since I've heard they're an awesome live band. We shall see.

Flight of the Conchords, new full-length album (January 2008)
So January technically isn't the fall, but I wanted to put a plug in here for this New Zealand folk/comedy duo who have one of the best shows on TV right now. Their eponymous HBO series (sadly coming to a close soon, but thankfully renewed for another season) is dry wit at its hysterical best. Bret and Jemaine play themselves as wide-eyed naive moron musicians trying to make it in New York City. The hallmark of the show occurs about twice an episode when the guys drift into inner monologue, portrayed as an aside music video. YouTube is full of "Conchords" clips if you're curious, and the band just released an EP, "The Distant Future," with Song of the Year candidate "Business Time." Like Tenacious D without the raunch, I can't recommend the Conchords and their show highly enough.

Bruce Springsteen, "Radio Nowhere"
And, last but not least, "Radio Nowhere" is the lead single off Springsteen's new album and it hit the web this past week. I love it. Maybe I've just been listening to too much Gaslight Anthem recently, but "Nowhere" sounds like the closest Bruce is ever going to get to writing a punk song. No, I'm not saying it IS a punk song, just that it gives off that vibe—call it the most "modern" he's ever sounded, if you like. A straightforward rocker akin to "Further On (Up the Road)" from "The Rising" (a song that's only gotten better with age), I especially love the little hitch he puts in his voice at the end of several lines. Ironically, given the hubbub about Springsteen recording with the E Street Band again, this doesn't sound much like an E Street sound to me, despite a scorching sax solo from Clarence Clemons; it's more like extra-brawny solo Springsteen. Regardless, this bodes well for the new album.

Armchair Box Office Quarterbacking Isn’t for Everyone

Including me. Back in January I took a stab at predicting this summer’s box office totals and came up almost completely wrong through and through. In review, here are a few things I learned:

1. “Spider-Man 3” benefited more than I expected from being first out of the gate.
2. It seems ridiculous that $300 million-plus is somewhat disappointing for “Pirates 3,” but Disney might have been better served leaving the final (?) installment on the shelf for another year to let demand build a bit.
3. Michael Bay is the luckiest director in Hollywood. I gave “Transformers” a B- right after I saw it, but upon further reflection that was probably too high. Bay really trashed those characters and the movie was a C+ at best (yes, in my mind there’s a big difference between those two grades). He did, however, manage to ride Gen-X nostalgia, good trailers, a midweek Fourth of July holiday (which basically meant a full week that acted like a weekend), and generally positive we’re-just-glad-it’s-not-a-sequel reviews like mine to a monster payday. No one—and I mean NO ONE—thought just four months ago that this movie would best “At World’s End” by summer’s end. It’s still a mystery to me.
4. Even Pixar can’t make rats that cute. I’m still a bit stunned, though, that “Ratatouille” is having to scratch and claw its way to $200 million—the studio's lowest domestic gross in nearly a decade (1998's "A Bug's Life" made $162 million). It will be interesting to see if Pixar changes course at all in the future because of this.
5. People will come. Sequel fatigue and a crowded schedule may have hampered the end runs of several movies, but the opening weekends were still gigantic right through to the end. The fact that “Simpsons” and “Bourne” both raked in $70 million to open was surprising; I thought the moviegoing public might be worn out by then, but the films were good and people love the respective characters.

All in all, summer 2007 was excellent as summers go. I went to the theater more in the past four months than I probably had in the previous year and a half—and not out of some sort of pop-cultural obligation, but because I actually—shockingly—wanted to see these flicks (well, except for “Fantastic Four,” but even that was still a fun 90 minutes). And I didn’t even get to “Die Hard” or “Rescue Dawn”!

So here’s how my summer shook out, in order of preference (click on the titles to read my reviews):

1. “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”—This movie had it all.
2. “The Bourne Ultimatum”—James Bond may be reinventing himself, but he can’t hold a candle to Jason Bourne. Paul Greengrass delivered yet another excellent film that cements the Bourne trilogy as one of the best in movie history—forget limiting it to just the spy genre. The car chases got all the hype, but my favorite scene was the close-quarters fight in the Tangiers hotel; it’s arguably the best combat sequence I’ve ever seen. Damon was once again perfect (and Oscar-worthy, even though that will never happen) and the script kept me leaned forward and engaged all the way through as it seamlessly weaved the conclusion in and around the first two movies (impressive considering it was composed almost on the fly). I had two complaints: David Strathaim’s CIA administrator was too much of a cliché (with some painful lines of dialogue, to boot), and the conclusion was a tad underwhelming and politically jingoistic after three movies’ worth of buildup. It’s not that I didn’t like the final reveal (even if it does make America look like the bad guy—what else is new?), but it wasn’t handled with the same deft dexterity as the rest of the film. What a shock: A message overwhelming the craft. Still, “Ultimatum” is the epitome of what an action thriller can and should be. Grade: A-
3. “Ratatouille”—Brad Bird rules. Much funnier and eye-popping than even I expected.
4. “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End”—Screw the whiny critics who couldn’t follow along. This movie was gutsy and glam all at the same time.
5. “Spider-Man 3”—The rare occasion where superb action sequences make up for a wordy script.
6. “The Simpsons Movie”—The fact that this movie even made it to the big screen amidst the enormous pressure put on the writers is an achievement in and of itself. The fact that it’s flat-out hysterical is truly something. I guess those who haven’t seen it by now aren’t likely to anytime soon, but I still don’t want to give anything away—there’s even a laugh-out-loud joke before the movie even begins. The movie’s sizeable central flaw was the lack of screen time for key supporting characters. I realize Springfield is populated with literally dozens of fan-favorites, but you have to figure out a way to get Mr. Burns and Ralph Wiggum more than one or two lines apiece. You just have to. Still, there are so many jokes packed into this film’s 90 minutes I’ll probably have to watch it two or three more times to catch even most of them. Grade: B+
7. “Ocean’s Thirteen”—Matt Damon had a great summer. Thankfully he and his boys seemed to do more actual work this time around than partying.
8. “Transformers”—See above. Please let someone else direct the sequel. Michael Bay doesn’t even like these characters.
9. “Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer”—Better and funnier than I expected.

It’s sure going to be hard for Hollywood to top itself next summer, but hopefully the studios will space tent poles out a little more to give us all a little breathing room. Then again, this summer is probably going to be the most lucrative on record and next year we’re due for the return of Indy, Batman, and the kids from Narnia, so you can always count on Hollywood to run something into the ground—this time it may be the ticket-buying public.

Good Music (Hopefully) for the Fall

Eddie Vedder’s solo album/soundtrack for “Into the Wild” (due Sept. 18) is just one of several new releases I’m looking forward to this fall. Here are a few others to put on your calendar:

PJ Harvey, “White Chalk” (Sept. 24 in the UK, no US release date yet)
This is the visceral British singer/songwriter’s first album in three years, a follow-up to a slightly subpar “Uh Huh Her.” The latter was an album that turned out to be less than the sum of its parts. While it was a return to her minimalist and harsh early days and featured several good songs, the overall impact was lackluster. “White Chalk” is supposedly yet another dramatic shift, this time a piano-based album. Haunting first single “When Under Ether” can be heard here.

Dashboard Confessional, “The Shade of Poison Trees” (Oct. 2)
Founder/frontman Chris Carrabba is supposed to be returning to his roots on his band’s fifth full-length. Early buzz says this is an acoustic album, which would mean a shift away from the electric pop/rock of the past two albums. It’s unclear if this will be just Carrabba and a guitar like 2000’s “The Swiss Army Romance,” or a full-band version circa 2001’s “The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most”—or maybe a mix of both. “Poison Trees” hits just more than a year after “Dusk and Summer,” an album that certainly didn’t blow me away when it came out but has actually aged rather well. As I said in my review of that album, I’m still curious to see how Carrabba’s songwriting will change now that he’s in his early 30s. The band has been in a bit of a downturn this past year, so this could me a make-or-break album.

Bruce Springsteen, “Magic” (Oct. 2)
Springsteen’s 50s have been good to him, because this has been some decade for the Boss. “Magic” is the first Springsteen album to feature his beloved E Street Band since 2002’s excellent “The Rising,” but it’s not like the guy’s been idle. In 2005 he dropped “Devils and Dust,” a better-than-decent solo record, then followed up last year by reinventing himself with the tremendous folk/rock album of Pete Seeger covers, “We Shall Overcome.” Now he’s back again with the group that helped make him a legend, and that is, of course, cause for celebration. More exciting to me is longtime manager and confidant Jon Landau’s pronouncement that “Magic” is not overtly political. Hooray!

“Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock” (Oct. 21)
This is the third full installment in what during the past year has become my favorite videogame franchise of all time. And in true rock-star fashion, No. 3 promises to be bigger, louder, and (hopefully) better than ever. Just one look at the confirmed tracklist has my fingers twitching and my foot tapping in anticipation. This game has built from the ground up just like a real band—the original started building buzz in 2005, leading to the sequel’s big hit last year. Now momentum is building to a crescendo and “Guitar Hero” has become so successful the producers have the clout they need to get original tracks of some truly epic songs. I’m particularly aflutter over the idea of playing AFI’s “Miss Murder,” The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Cherub Rock,” the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage,” The Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black,” Metallica’s “One” (how on Earth will that even be possible?), and, of course, “Even Flow” from Pearl Jam and one Mr. Mike McCready.

Finally, there’s a great deal of chatter about a massive box set from Ryan Adams also out this fall. No official release date yet so it’s a believe-it-when-I-see-it situation, but if it does come to pass it could be special. I’ve heard upwards of seven discs (at least) that would include cuts diehards drool over. I’m not inclined to slobbering over every scrap of Adams material, but I certainly would be interested in plowing through this material.

It’s a Muuuusical Journey: My 15-year love/hate relationship with Pearl Jam

I can’t point to any specific date when Pearl Jam became my favorite band, but it had to be somewhere in the “Vitalogy” era of 1994/95, because it was full-on obsession by the time “No Code” came out in summer 1996.
So over the past decade I’ve had plenty of time to continuously refine how I respond to a band so diametrically opposed to my political beliefs. I’ve written about that other places (here and here), and that’s not the point of this entry. This past month has merely reminded me with vivid clarity the dichotomy that exists between me and the five liberals from Seattle whose music I tend to adore and admire.
Let’s start with Thursday, Aug. 2, the day PJ played a fanclub-only show at Chicago’s small Vic Theatre as a warm-up for their headlining gig at Lollapalooza a few days later. One of the reasons I continue to follow, support, and love Pearl Jam is their commitment to loyal fans like me, an M.O. that goes way beyond any other band their size—or just about any size, for that matter—and continuously proved through their visceral live performances. One look at the Vic setlist will tell you this was a unique show, as the rundown eschewed the hits for a lineup existing almost entirely of rare and/or lesser-known cuts. Even for a band that never plays the same set twice, this performance was an exception; they knew who they were playing to, and they tried to provide what they thought diehards would really like. And, of course, they were right, judging by message board traffic, anyway. I’m not necessarily a rarities freak and as an outsider looking in the setlist seems a little awkward; but the attempt is the key—these guys have been treating their fans right for more than 15 years. And, of course, I would have loved to see that show.
So that brings us to Lolla a few nights later, which was webcast live via AT&T’s Blue Room. I was overjoyed to discover the show would be broadcast—for free and in its entirety—because it meant getting to see the band perform without having to visit O’Hare and stand amongst thousands of sweaty, smelly bodies.
The set was an absolute barnstormer, as PJ powered through hit after hit in a mass-appeal show. There was a bit of a dustup the day after, though, when the band discovered a snippet of its performance was “censored” during the simulcast. It is standard practice during “Daughter” for Eddie Vedder (the lead singer, for the one person in a million who might not know) to vamp his way through an extended jam, pulling out lines from other songs. On this night he chose Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall, Part II” and substituted a couple lines to jab at President Bush (“George Bush, leave this world alone”). The line didn’t make it out over the web, though, because apparently the one person manning the broadcast’s “dump” button edited it out.
Just why the line was cut still isn’t exactly clear. When fans let the band know what happened, Pearl Jam started crying “Censorship!” and AT&T quickly apologized, saying it’s not the company’s policy to censor political statements, only excessive profanity. I can understand being a little irritated, but the band, as is their wont, used the edit as a way to pound home once again the “free speech is under attack” mantra Eddie has been spewing for the better part of a decade. Nevermind the fact he performed several other politically-charged songs at other times that evening—one protesting an oil company, and two others the war in Iraq. None of these were edited in any way.
To this longtime fan, Pearl Jam came off looking ridiculously thin-skinned and diva-esque, as the band usually does when engaging in this type of “commentary.” I’ve heard more of these snippets than I care to recall over the years, and except for rare occasions Eddie usually sounds like a drunken buffoon. If you’re going to protest, do it the right way by playing Dylan’s “Masters of War” (which is always excellent when they do it) or “Worldwide Suicide” (which they DID play and was NOT edited). I shook my head and chuckled at the quips during the show; the post-show drama pissed me off a bit. Give me a break: You have been engaging in anti-Bush rhetoric since 2000; everybody knows how you feel, and no one’s shutting you up, even if we wanted to. Yes, it was a stupid thing to do, but it was one guy, pushing one button, at the end of a very long weekend, who may have just thought—personally—that he was sick of Eddie’s crap. We’ll probably never know, but the Internet continues to bring us more unfiltered music than ever—heck, anybody in the whole wide world could log on and listen to Eddie protest the war. It was one line. Get. Over. It.
Of course, nothing helps me get over incidents like this than what drew me to the band in the first place: Their music.
Right around the time of the Lollapalooza show, I also discovered a batch of Pearl Jam demos/alternate takes/unreleased tracks that showed up online the last week of July. Included in this collection is “Puzzles and Games,” the antecedent of “Light Years” from 2000’s “Binaural.” Now, I really, really like “Light Years,” but after hearing “Puzzles,” I have trouble understanding just what the band was thinking when they moved away from this sprawling, swirling, epic potential classic. “Light Years” retains some elements of “Puzzles,” but—to these ears—it just doesn’t measure up to what “Puzzles” could have been—we’re talking “Corduroy” or “In Hiding” here. I’m thrilled to have this rough cut, though.
And as if that wasn’t enough of a pleasant surprise, today Spinner.com started streaming what I’m tentatively calling Eddie’s best vocal performance on record—ever. Yes, I know what that says—go listen to it. The song is “Hard Sun,” a cover of a rock/folk song by little-known Canadian singer/songwriter Gordon Peterson. It hails from the soundtrack to “Into the Wild,” a film directed by Sean Penn, who asked Eddie to write songs for inclusion in the movie.
What this means is that we finally have ourselves an EV solo record. If the rest of the effort sounds even close to “Hard Sun” … well, I can’t let my hopes get that high just now, but this is one of the strongest reactions I’ve ever had to a Vedder song. His voice is simply perfect on this track—thick and deep and vibrant and soaring. He wraps it around and through the melody without a trace of strain; it gave me goosebumps the first time through and instantly reminded me of his fabulous lo-fi cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “One Step Up” from the pre-PJ days (oh, and that’s Corin Tucker, formerly of Sleater-Kinney, on background vocals, which only sweetens the deal that much more). I could use this song as Exhibit A for why I love this man’s music so much (as if these weren’t enough). I’m now about as excited for this album as I’ve ever been for a Pearl Jam record.
So there you have it: The ying and yang, highs and lows, embarrassment and pride, distaste and excitement of a month being a Pearl Jam fan. What will next month bring?

***The batch of demos can be downloaded here***
***A lesser quality version of “Hard Sun” can be found at www.intothewild.com***

Music Reviews: Summer 2007

Ryan Adams, ‘Easy Tiger’
Is it possible for an album to be too good for its own good? If so, then it’s fitting the prototype for such a paradox should come from the untamable Ryan Adams and his new release, “Easy Tiger.”
The record’s quite amazing in that its 13 tracks offer an effective snapshot of the many different facets of an artist who’s issued nine albums since 2000—and in less than 40 minutes, much less. The results certainly seem a clear sign that the recently-sober singer/songwriter has a newfound focus. This is the sharpest Adams has sounded since his 2001 breakthrough “Gold,” and lead single “Two” is a pitch-perfect pop/rock ditty that would have been right at home on that record. “Goodnight Rose” and “Everybody Knows” are reminiscent of the rockabilly shuffle from 2005’s glorious “Cold Roses,” while “Halloweenhead” is as good (or better?) a dirty rock song as anything on 2003’s “Rock N Roll,” an album full of dirty rock songs. And “Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.” offers up the quiet intensity found on Adams’ 2000 breakthrough classic “Heartbreaker.”
These songs comprise the first five on the record; unfortunately, after that Adams takes the foot off the gas, to the album’s detriment. Don’t get me wrong: There isn’t a bad song on “Easy Tiger,” but there is a definite downshift in momentum for the remainder and he’s never quite able to recapture the wide-open energy of the album’s opening sequence. Highlights from the second half include bluegrass ballads “Pearls on a String” and “These Girls,” as well as “I Taught Myself How To Grow Old,” the mellow set-closer that could have been straight out of the sessions for 2003’s “Love Is Hell.”
Again, “Easy Tiger” certainly is a strong effort from Adams—the best since “Cold Roses.” But it’s just a bit too quiet for my liking. Ironically, an alternate take of “Whatever, Etc.” floating around the Internet offers exactly the type of uptempo vibe I’m talking about—for a track that works perfectly well as a quiet, contemplative number. Too bad he didn’t test that tack with a couple others, but, as usual, Adams confounds as much as he inspires.
Grade: B+

Feist, ‘The Reminder’
One of the year’s most highly acclaimed albums didn’t exactly live up to the hype for me, but that’s no surprise given my aversion to “indie” music.
Leslie Feist’s sophomore solo album, “The Reminder,” reminded me why I don’t particularly care for the genre. It’s too precious, too pretty, too cute, too perfect, and too restrained. That being said, the style works better for women than men; where guys like Sufjan Stevens or Death Cab for Cutie’s Ben Gibbard come off sounding wimpy, the quiet atmosphere suits Feist’s silken voice much better. Still, even on this album’s breakout hit, the undeniably catchy and fun “1 2 3 4,” I wish she’d just let it rip a little more.
Naturally I’m drawn to “The Reminder’s” more romping numbers, and there are plenty of goodies here, including “I Feel It All,” “Sea Lion Woman,” “Past in Present,” and “My Moon Man.” After “1 2 3 4” in the ninth slot, though, the record drips to a close through four barely distinguishable mopey tracks.
“The Reminder” brings up another interesting issue, though: Songs in commercials. U2 took a hit from many back in 2004 for appearing in an iPod promo featuring their new song “Vertigo” (the commercial was awesome, by the way—better than the “official” video they shot for the single). The “sellout” hubbub was squelched somewhat when it came out the band didn’t take any money for the ad; since rock and roll on the radio is basically dead, U2 saw the iPod ad as a new way to reach new fans. And it worked, of course, as “Vertigo” and the album it’s found on “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” were huge hits.
Some never forgave them, though, for appearing in a TV spot, but it’s interesting now to see the Irish supergroup was, yet again, ahead of its time. Look no further than Feist and Wilco—the latter allowed Volkswagen to use cuts from its new album, “Sky Blue Sky,” in various commercials. And I would never have bought Feist’s record (“1 2 3 4” didn’t wow me that much) without hearing “My Moon Man” on a recent Verizon spot. I don’t know if Feist or Wilco took the money or not, but I can’t say I blame them for following in U2’s footsteps—they are in the business of selling records, and these commercials give them way more exposure than they ever would have gotten on their own. I admit hearing the Wilco songs on a car commercial is off-putting (I tend to switch them off), but I guess these are the times we live in. Listening to their respective albums, I don’t think of Feist or Jeff Tweedy as compromising any of their artistic integrity, and it’s not like the commercials splashed their names all over the screen (which U2 did, actually). It is no doubt a tricky line to walk, and will be an interesting trend to observe in the future.
Anyway, back to “The Reminder”: I give it a B+

The Gaslight Anthem, ‘Sink or Swim’
I don’t actually buy much music from iTunes (other than hard-to-find b-sides, for which the online provider is brilliant). But the digital store does play a very important role in my musical decisions, as I constantly use its 30-second preview feature when investigating potential purchases. This isn’t a full-proof method, of course—sometimes those 30 seconds can sound better than the band actually is, and other times it’s not nearly enough to get an adequate sense of a band.
And then there are those times when I know I’m buying the album from the first five seconds.
Such was the case with The Gaslight Anthem, a New Jersey punk/rock band I’d never heard of until it was recommended to me earlier this summer. It only took the first few bars of opening track “Boomboxes and Dictionaries” to know I was buying this record. When I finally got to hear the entire thing, it didn’t disappoint.
The Springsteen influence is undeniable, and not because the band hails from the Garden State; “Sink or Swim” is populated with common-man manifestos in the Boss tradition, with songs about driving all night, listening to the radio, and “jukebox Romeos” who “dance with the girls with the stars in their eyes.” Frontman Brian Fallon’s gravelly voice also hints at Springsteen along the way, and the Boss’s galloping, epic musical style a vital part of the Anthem’s core. On the surface, the band is more like a mix of Hey Mercedes, the Dropkick Murphys (without the bagpipes), and New Jersey legends The Bouncing Souls (reviewers also cite punk rockers Against Me!, but I can’t confirm as I haven’t listened to them).
There’s only one subpar track on the whole record, the annoying “Red in the Morning,” but that single flaw is more than made up for by the fact that every other song basically rocks your face off. And “Sink or Swim” scores extra points for its closer, “Red at Night,” an artful homage to “Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key” from the Billy Bragg/Wilco collaboration “Mermaid Avenue.”
This is a stunningly mature debut for a band that’s only been together for a couple years. I can’t wait to hear what’s next, but The Gaslight Anthem certainly have set the bar high.
Grade: A
Note: Last I checked, “Sink or Swim” wasn’t available at major retailers. To find it, go to the band’s web site, where there is information on how to purchase the record. There’s always iTunes, I guess, but I still prefer the real thing.

Gasoline Heart, ‘You Know Who You Are’
It’s nice to see we’ve gotten far enough away from the seminal modern rock acts of the ’90s that new bands can be legitimately influenced by them, as opposed to the cashing-in hack clones that populated much of the late-’90s and early part of this decade (that’s you Creed, Nickelback, 3 Doors Down, and oh so many others).
Florida-based Gasoline Heart is as good and straightforward a new American rock band as you’re likely to hear. Their sound is a mix of Tom Petty and the lighter side of Pearl Jam and the Foo Fighters (think “Betterman” or “Learn to Fly”), while lead singer Louis Defabrizio’s voice sounds like a perfect blend of Petty and Dave Grohl. It’s also worth noting “Who You Are” was produced by Steve Albini, who was responsible for Nirvana’s swan song classic, “In Utero.”
This album actually came out last August; it’s been one of my favorite records of the past year, but for some reason I never got around to writing about it despite a bevy of quality tracks—“All the Way” and “Steam (A Well Dried Up)” are particular favorites, but there’s really not a bad song on the whole thing. “Who You Are” doesn’t break any new ground, but it might just be revolutionary for reminding you of what traditional American rock and roll has to offer. Another awesome debut.
Grade: A-
Go to www.freemvs.com (the band’s label web site) to download a few free tracks—including the aforementioned “Steam” (you have to register first, though).

Bruce Springsteen with the Sessions Band, ‘Live in Dublin’
And to think I almost didn’t buy it.
When this two-disc live compilation was announced, I wasn’t overly excited because the Seeger Sessions songs that appeared on last year’s stellar “We Shall Overcome” were recorded almost live anyway.
Then it hit me: Duh, there are Springsteen originals on here, too, dummy! Like, say, a little ditty called “Atlantic City” that just happens to be one of my favorite songs of all time, Springsteen or no. “Further On Up the Road” continues to climb that list, as well; this “Rising” rocker was remade beautifully by Johnny Cash on last year’s posthumous “American V,” and it gives me goosebumps here, too. And there’s no need to even comment further on the awesomeness that are “Open All Night” and “Blinded By the Light” in their Sessions Band incarnations.
Not to be outdone, the songs from “Overcome” offer new quirks, too. They’re all even more raucous, fun, and freewheelin’ here; Springsteen’s stompin’-and-hollerin’ enthusiasm comes through just fine, and the crowd is even mic’d nicely.
My only complaint is the track list, which is expected, I guess, considering this is an official Boss live compilation and that’s ALWAYS the complaint. I fail to understand why “Highway Patrolman,” “Long Time Comin’,” and “Growing Up”—three cuts that vary little from their original versions—made the record while more dramatic reworkings of “The River,” “You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch),” “Bobby Jean,” and “Johnny 99” were left on the bench. And even worse is leaving off “John Henry,” one of the best tracks off the Sessions album.
That said, “Live in Dublin” remains an excellent collection documenting Springsteen at a new artistic height.
Grade: A-

The Smashing Pumpkins, 'Zeitgeist'

My review of the new album from the “Smashing Pumpkins” is now up here at RELEVANT. It’s a shame the first thing I’ve ever written about this band had to be so unflattering (“Zeitgeist” earns a “C” at best), because this piece certainly doesn’t summarize how I feel about the group as a whole. In an effort to set the record straight …

I never listened to the Pumpkins in their heyday. As seems to always be the case with me and bands I end up loving, I came to them late. This pattern in my musical life stems from being an oldest child, I think—I never had somebody like Patrick Fugit’s sister in “Almost Famous” to set me straight at a young age, so I’ve been playing catch-up ever since. When most people my age were listening to Billy Corgan’s band, I was just discovering The Beatles.
Anyway, I liked the Pumpkins songs I heard on the radio (it seems odd to think of listening to FM now) and the videos played on a seemingly continuous loop on MTV certainly were interesting, but none of it ever got me over the hump to actually buy one of their albums. That didn’t occur until 1999, which just happens to be the year I met my future wife, who just happens to love the Pumpkins. You can do the math: 20-year-old boy wants to talk to girl; boy finds out girl loves Smashing Pumpkins; boy almost immediately buys a Smashing Pumpkins album so he has something to talk about with girl; boy not only likes what he hears, but starts to see the Smashing Pumpkins through the eyes of girl; boy falls in love—with band and girl.
But as I said, I was late to the party. The following year—before I even had a chance to purchase all of their albums—the Pumpkins released “MACHINA: The Machines of God” (which I really liked), went out on tour, and broke up. We (that would be me and the girl) saw them twice in 2000, and that’s what cemented my affection for the band. The first show was on April 18, at Purdue, and it was great. Relatively small venue, excellent seats dead-center in the first row of the balcony, cool setlist, and I even got to shake Corgan’s hand afterward (he was, surprisingly, quite affable, making sure to shake hands with and/or sign autographs for all of the hundred or so people who hung around behind the venue after the show).
Later that year, though, Corgan called it quits and announced the band would play two “farewell” shows in Chicago on Nov. 29 and Dec. 2 at the United Center and the Metro (a small club), respectively. Somehow, miraculously, I pulled a pair of tickets to the UC show—they were almost at the roof of the building, but at least they were right alongside the stage. And, really, I didn’t care because the show sold out literally in like five minutes, so I was just thrilled to be allowed in the building.
That night the Pumpkins played one of the best concerts I have ever attended. It started with a six-song acoustic set, then Corgan dashed offstage, changed from an all-white outfit to an all-black getup, and let loose with guitars blazing for the remainder of the night. The final tally ended up about three hours long, two main sets and three encores, and 27 songs. That show, along with the Pearl Jam set from less than two months earlier that still stands to this day as the top live music experience of my life, cemented Chicago as my second musical home and made me a Pumpkins fan for life.
The odd thing is, because that show meant essentially the end of the band, it was hard to keep the fire burning. After the glow of that night wore off in a few months, I moved on to other things; that happens, I guess, in the aftermath of a dissolved band. But because I knew them for so short a time, I never quite got to that obsessive, buy-everything-they’ve-ever-recorded-and-listen-to-them-all-the-time fever pitch I’ve had with so many other groups. In fact, until this past weekend, I’m ashamed to admit I’d never actually listened to the Pumpkins’ renowned debut album, “Gish,” all the way through.
So that brings me back around to the original point of this little missive. I wish Corgan had left well enough alone and not called “Zeitgeist” a “Pumpkins” album, because it doesn’t really feel like one at all. But one good thing has come of it: Preparing to write the aforementioned review forced me to go back and listen to the band again for the first time in a long while, and it reminded me of how great they were, how much I loved (and still love) their music, and the role their songs played in my life. There’s a lot to be said for that, and nothing Corgan does now is going to taint it or take it away. I only hope he comes to his senses and either invites James back into the band, or drops the Pumpkins moniker once again. Or, at the least, get back to writing the type of songs that made everybody love his music in the first place.
With that in mind, here are my 10 favorite Smashing Pumpkins songs, in order:

1. Muzzle, from 1995’s Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
2. Mayonaise, from 1993’s Siamese Dream
3. Drown, from 1992’s Singles soundtrack
4. Stand Inside Your Love, from 2000’s MACHINA
5. Untitled, from 2001’s Rotten Apples greatest hits collection
6. The Everlasting Gaze, from 2000’s MACHINA
7. Landslide, from 1994’s Pisces Iscariot (Fleetwood Mac cover)
8. Ava Adore, from 1998’s Adore
9. Frail and Bedazzled, from 1994’s Pisces Iscariot
10. Blew Away, from 1994’s Pisces Iscariot

The White Stripes, 'Icky Thump'

You can find my review of the new White Stripes album, "Icky Thump," over here at RELEVANTmagazine.com. It's an "A."

‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’

For any who may be disappointed with the 2007 crop of summer movies, I give you … “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” not just the best movie of the season, but the best of this franchise, as well.
The fifth installment of author J.K. Rowling’s magical (in more ways than one) seven-part series, “Phoenix” covers the darkest subject matter yet, which makes it ideal for a more adult audience. This is the first film in the franchise that someone could walk in off the street without having seen/read any of the previous chapters and still really enjoy. The movie, obviously with a lot of help from the source material, has it all: Action, adventure, wit, charm, humor, emotion. It’s the story of a boy who finally embraces his talents and his destiny, and in so doing takes his first step into manhood. For the first time, the now 15-year-old Harry doesn’t stumble through challenges using his previous concoction of raw power, big heart, and seemingly blind luck; in “Phoenix” he takes command not only of his own skills, but helps his young classmates harness theirs, too. After watching this kid suffer under the weight of being “The Boy Who Lived” for four years, it’s thrilling and emotionally rewarding to finally see him believe in himself.
“Phoenix” is helmed by relative newcomer David Yates, a 44-year-old Englishman with a mix of TV and film work in his background, and none of it anything most people have ever seen. Thus this film marks a rather stunning big-budget debut, especially considering he trimmed Rowling’s longest novel into the franchise’s shortest movie (“Phoenix” clocks in at a relatively short 2:18). I have nothing to offer most of you out there in the way of changes from the source material, however, as I choose to see the movies first and then read the books later. From my perspective, screenwriter Michael Goldenberg (“Contact”) did a masterful job with his condensed version; the plot moves well and all elements are explained to satisfaction. For someone who didn’t know what was coming, the dynamic story moved along with no sluggishness whatsoever.
And, wow, am I glad I didn’t know what was in store. Rowling has provided some great climaxes in this series, especially in the previous two chapters, but “Phoenix” certainly boasts the best yet. Gates translates the written word into a visual tour de force that I would put up against any of the special-effects-laden cinematic clashes of the past decade.
I could barely get through the first two “Potter” movies, but looking back I must give Christopher Columbus, who directed those installments, a great deal of credit for handling the most important job of them all: casting this crew. I cannot imagine anyone at this point other than Daniel Radcliffe (Harry), Emma Watson (Hermione), and Rupert Grint (Ron) in the lead roles; all three continue to just get better with each movie. The supporting cast is equally superb, especially Alan Rickman as the not-so-sinister-anymore Professor Snape. Gary Oldman, a true chameleon, continues his excellent work as Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black (can you believe this is the same guy who played James Gordon in “Batman Begins”?). And Imelda Staunton steals every scene as buttoned-up professor-turned-Hogwarts-dictator Dolores Umbridge.
I really can’t say enough good things about this movie. It’s utterly captivating, exciting, infuriating (in all the right ways, especially its commentary on government-run education), uplifting, heartwarming, and tear-inducing. It’s the first movie I’ve seen this summer that I wanted to get right back in line and watch again.
And, for what it’s worth, I saw it with two people who HAVE read the books (and whose opinions I respect), and they loved it just as much as me.
Grade: A

‘Transformers’

Never send a Bay to do a man’s job.
Seriously: How does director Michael Bay keep getting such high-profile gigs? There is so much to love about his latest movie, “Transformers,” until the end when he can’t help but blow everything up the way he has in every other movie he’s made. Maybe it’s fitting, though, that a story about toys was made by a guy who treats filmmaking like playing with them.
I know not to take “Transformers” too seriously. I know it’s just a summer action pic. But I can’t help but wonder what could have been had ANYONE but Michael Bay been at the helm. Because this flick is pretty stinkin’ good for the first, oh, hour and a half. Credit screenwriters Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, two “Alias” alums, for elevating the story beyond just big robots bashing one another.
And wow, speaking of those robots, it’s the Transformers themselves who save this movie. They are, in a word, awesome. My hat’s off to George Lucas’ special effects company, Industrial Light & Magic, for turning ’80s cartoon icons into 21st century visions of wonder. They are something to behold, especially when transforming from vehicle to robot while on the move. The Transformers make this venture worth watching.
But then Bay obviously steps in and leaves his “mark,” meaning a nonsensical conclusion featuring explosion after explosion after explosion, all of them lacking anything close to a point. Throw in a few cheesy lines of dialogue and—wrap! There’s a way to do spectacle with class—think Peter Jackson, Ridley Scott, or Sam Raimi—where the action has an ebb and flow and, shockingly, moments of quiet. Bay heeds none of this; he’s like a monkey throwing his own crap at the screen. He basically wastes the evil character Megatron, and what should have been an epic fight between the Decepticon leader and noble Optimus Prime barely registers amongst the chaos.
That’s just the last half-hour or so, though. The rest of the movie is good enough to make it worthwhile, especially to see Prime and his fellow Autobots in all their gleaming metal glory. It’s just a shame these beloved characters were entrusted to such a clod who certainly has nothing more to offer than meets the eye.
Grade: B-

‘Ratatouille’

The geniuses at Pixar have built their company’s reputation on many hallmarks, but perhaps the most important is their ability to take us into other worlds. Over the past 12 years we’ve gone under the sea, under the earth, and into the toy box. We’ve explored realms run by monsters and saved by superheroes, and we’ve seen our beautiful country through the eyes of cars. And now … rats?
Believe me when I tell you: The studio’s latest near-masterpiece, “Ratatouille,” is the ballsiest endeavor its ever attempted.
In an industry driven to tears and fears by the bottom line, it’s amazing an idea for a movie about nature’s ugly little scavengers was even discussed, much less made, and much less by two companies—Disney and Pixar—whose stock and trade is cute. But only the guys at Pixar (did I mention they’re geniuses?) could pull something like this off. In “Ratatouille,” writer/director Brad Bird (“The Incredibles”) accomplishes the impossible—he makes us care about rats.
First and foremost, this movie is flat-out hilarious. It takes a little bit to really get going (pacing is a problem throughout), but once little Remy the rat makes his way to Paris and meets up with fellow (although human) garbage boy Linguini, things really start cooking. Linguini yearns to be a chef, but finds himself in the unfortunate circumstance of having no talent; Remy, on the other hand, also yearns to be a chef but finds himself in the unfortunate circumstance of being, well, a rat. Rat and food—they don’t exactly go together like peas and carrots.
As you’ve no doubt seen from the trailer, Remy and Linguini work out a system whereby the rodent communicates his culinary commands by pulling on Linguini’s hair. But this certainly isn’t one of those times when the best scenes are used in the preview. Far from it. The training montage is rib-popping funny, as is any time the rats are discovered (think of that scene in “Little Mermaid” where Sebastian the crab is discovered in the kitchen, only even funnier).
“Ratatouille” is Pixar’s eighth full-length film, and as has become tradition the studio improves its craft with each outing. The scenery in last year’s “Cars” was stunning, but “Ratatouille” is even better, especially in the backgrounds—there are times when you’ll swear these animated characters have been superimposed on the real Paris. “Camera”-work is also spectacular, as Bird effectively switches between rat and human perspectives; it feels like you’re the one sitting on Linguini’s head.
This is without question Pixar’s most adult-oriented film. It deals with themes of deceit, ego, loyalty, the work-vs.-family dynamic, and even children out of wedlock, just to name a few. There is plenty of slapstick humor to keep the kiddies entertained, but there are also long sections without a whole lot of yuks—fine for adults, but kids might wander off. It feels a shade long at 110 minutes, as Linguini and Remy have one too many falling outs/reconciliations.
Still, “Ratatouille” ends on such a high note and with a series of unexpected twists, I can certainly understand the rumors of nationwide applause after screenings. Nobody makes movies of more consistent quality than Pixar, and Bird in particular seems to be the studio’s master chef.
Grade: A-


Other movies I’ve seen so far this summer:

“Ocean’s Thirteen”
You certainly can’t say George Clooney, Steven Soderbergh & Co. don’t learn from their mistakes. After the mish-mash train wreck that was 2004’s “Ocean’s Twelve,” the crew of lovable scoundrels returned this summer with a back-to-basics approach with “Ocean’s Thirteen” that made the 2001 original (itself a remake) such a charmer.
The boys are (thankfully) back in Vegas this time around with more revenge on their minds, as they’re out to ruin a new venture by casino mogul Willie Bank (a slimy little man played winningly by Al Pacino in a very un-Pacino sniveling performance), who screwed over the crew’s mentor, Reuben. After going through the motions in the predecessor, Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and all the rest are back on their games here. Damon is especially good, playing up the visual comedy of his enlarged prosthetic nose (the Nose plays!).
By its very nature a sequel in this series will suffer because we already know how clever and cool this crew is and don’t get the pleasure of discovery as we did in “Eleven.” But a streamlined script and—what’s this?—a bit of a heart, makes “Thirteen” a winner.
Grade: B+

“Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer”
I guess the best thing I can say about this superhero flick is that it was better than I thought it would be.
With this sequel, director Tim Story (“Barbershop”) and writers Don Payne and Mark Frost went for a comic book movie for the whole family, which is refreshing in a way. It’s nice to see superheroes who actually enjoy their powers, as opposed to the tortured souls who populate basically every other comic book adaptation since 1989’s “Batman.” This tone leads to some witty banter between the Human Torch (Chris Evans, who could pass for Chris O’Donnell’s brother) and The Thing (a fun turn by Michael Chiklis), but doesn’t leave much room for a gripping story (the movie hustles along in just 92 minutes).
The Silver Surfer (voiced by Laurence Fishburne) is undeniably cool, and I could be convinced to go see a spinoff featuring just him, which is probably in the works. But he’s balanced by the utter lack of chemistry between Jessica Alba’s Invisible Woman and Ioan Gruffudd’s Mr. Fantastic, whose scenes fall utterly flat throughout.
Still, for those after a whimsical, blow-’em-up adventure fueled by superpowers, “Rise of the Silver Surfer” adequately fits the bill.
Grade: C

Meeting the Man Who Created Bauer

I never intended my tiny corner of the Internet to be a traditional blog, but occasionally things occur in my life that force me to make an exception. This week was one of those times.

On Wednesday morning, I was on assignment at Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. The objective: To interview Joel Surnow, co-creator of “24,” who has produced a stunt show for the amusement park making its debut this week.
This was an absolute dream-come-true situation. Not only is Surnow responsible for one of my favorite TV shows of all time, but he’s also a conservative, which by default makes him one of the gutsiest guys in Hollywood and one of my personal … “hero” isn’t the right word, but let’s just say I admire him a great deal for being a stranger in a strange land.
This was, as you might expect, a personal thrill and one of the highlights of my professional career to this point, but I tried not to get my hopes up; meeting famous people you respect from afar is a dangerous thing—if they turn out to be jerks, that encounter can cause a huge backdraft.
If, however, the guy turns out to be even cooler than you could have possibly hoped … well, it just doesn’t get better than that.

When I arrived at the park around 7:30 Wednesday morning, Surnow was already at the stunt show amphitheater, waiting for a live shot with a local Fox station scheduled for 8 a.m. Just by the way he was handling himself, I started to get a good vibe—he was talking casually with the actors/stuntmen in the show, taking pictures with them and looking generally congenial. I took that as a good sign.
After the live TV interview, I got my shot. I didn’t know what to expect—some bigwigs can make you feel like they’re doing you a favor by granting a five-minute interview. But Surnow was totally laid back and generous with his time. I think it may have helped that I introduced myself as not just a “24” fan, but a conservative as well. He seemed to light up a bit at that, letting out a big “duuuude!” (I kid you not). We talked about the new stunt show, “Operation SpyGirl,” for about six and a half minutes, and he answered all of my questions thoughtfully and completely.
I then asked one last question: What’s up with the “reinvented” “24”? He said—with a big just-you-wait grin on his face—next year is “going to be wild, it’s going to be amazing,” and “not like any season we’ve done before.” He said Day 7 will break some of the show’s own rules, go to other locales besides L.A., and have “a whole new look.”
So, with that excellent reply under my belt, I was ready to get out of his hair—and I told him as much. But he said he didn’t have anything to do just then, so we just kept on talking for five more minutes or so, about all sorts of issues: conservatives in Hollywood, global warming, the 2008 presidential election, and he even asked me what I thought of the finale of “The Sopranos.” Joel Surnow, asking ME what I thought of a major television event. I was stunned.

I know this whole thing sounds ridiculously gushy, but I don’t care. Pretty soon another reporter came up seeking an interview, ending our conversation, but I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. Surnow was the exact opposite of what you would think the typical Hollywood bigshot would be like, and it makes me respect him even more. He could have just gone through the motions to get me out of his face, but this was a real, live conversation, not just some canned answers. He was actually listening to what I had to say and responding to it.

I’m on the record that Day 6 of “24” was certainly the weakest of the series’ seasons, but I’m pumped to see what this guy can come up with for Day 7. And regardless, those 15 minutes justified for me all the time and money and emotion I’ve invested in his show. After getting to meet the man behind “24” and have that encounter be such an amazingly positive experience, I’m in it for the long haul, come hell, high water, or the occasional misguided plot twist. Surnow has said in previous interviews that as soon as “24” flops, they’ll run him out of Hollywood. Well, I now have confirmation for what I always thought/hoped: He’s worth rooting for.

***As a side note, I got to hang around after the interview for a “SpyGirl” dress rehearsal. It was the first time Surnow saw the show start-to-finish, so it was fascinating to watch him get down to business, Jack Bauer-style. He was as nice as he could be while everyone was meandering around that morning, but as soon as the rehearsal was over, he got down to business, and fast—no screwing around.***

Wilco, 'Sky Blue Sky'

My review of Wilco's new album, "Sky Blue Sky," is now up on RELEVANT here. I'd say it's a solid "B" effort.

‘Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End’

“Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End” is everything the critics say: It’s long, complicated, and sometimes hard to follow.
Oh, and it’s one thing they say it’s not: Terrific.
I don’t understand all the haranguing about how complex this movie is. Aren’t the people complaining the same critics who moan incessantly about how dumb summer movies typically are? Yes, as the third installment in the insanely successful “Pirates” trilogy, “At World’s End” has a lot of heavy lifting to do to wrap everything up. Usually this means long sequences of exposition (see “Spider-Man 3”), but “Pirates 3” bounces along with only rare moments of flagging intensity. What puts this movie over the top is its investment in characters. Much credit is due screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, because all the major players—and there are several—have their own arcs and depth.
Part of the problem with last year’s “Dead Man’s Chest” stemmed from the fact that it was basically just half a movie. The myriad plotlines established in that film are wrapped up here, and not in some ham-fisted, oh-crap-we’re-running-out-of-time way. Yes, this movie may be almost three hours long, but if that’s what it takes for this kind of storytelling, so be it. Everything starts to come together about halfway through “At World’s End,” and it’s great fun to see it all weave together. This should make “Dead Man’s Chest” more rewatchable than before.
And story aside, “At World’s End” is an absolute stunner when it comes to action and visuals. Where the second film focused more on mano y mano swordplay, the conclusion ramps back up on the epic seafaring battles from the first film, 2003’s “The Curse of the Black Pearl.” There is action throughout, but the final hour is a nonstop, eye-popping battle royale on the swirling open water.
Once again Johnny Depp anchors the entire show with his squirrelly Jack Sparrow, as brilliant, funny, and captivating as ever (yes, he’s back from the dead—did you really think he wouldn’t be?). The movie benefits, though, from the return of Geoffrey Rush as Captain Barbossa, Sparrow’s arch-enemy. The two must unite to face not just Davy Jones (played with continual quiet dignity by Bill Nighy), but the entire East India Trading Co. Kiera Knightley and Orlando Bloom, meanwhile, give their best performances of the series as star-crossed lovers Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner, and Keith Richards saunters onscreen for a fabulous cameo.
Depp says one of his goals in doing these popcorn flicks was an attempt to buck the system from the inside for a change. With “Pirates 3,” he comes as close as any one actor can with a big dumb action movie that actually does have a brain, charm, wit, humor, and heart. It’s not like he and director Gore Verbinski set out to make “Apocalypse Now”—but here they have their cake and eat it, too. Really, what other leading man in Hollywood could squeeze a trippy, lengthy hallucination sequence into a big-budget Disney flick—and make it work?
Remember, this franchise is based on an amusement park ride, not a Shakespeare play. The fact that it even exists is amazing. The fact that it doesn’t suck is admirable. The fact that it’s this good makes it a real summertime treasure.
Grade: A-
Oh, and one more thing: Stick around to the end of the credits. You won’t regret it.

‘A Tale of Two Finales,’ or How, at the Last Minute, Jack Bauer Reared Up and Beat the Crap Out of Those Wimps from ‘Heroes’

***Insert Your Own Spoiler Warning Here***

Since the sixth season of “24” premiered in January opposite NBC’s freshman breakout hit “Heroes,” the two shows have been duking it out for fans and ratings the rest of the season. Why the respective networks would pit two shows against one another that so obviously draw from a similar audience pool I don’t understand, but “24” certainly lost the overall war—both in critical acclaim and popularity.
But at least Jack Bauer went out swinging.
As chronicled here and basically every other entertainment-related web site in the world, Day 6 of “24”—for the most part—sucked. “Heroes,” on the other hand, slowly unveiled what promised to be an excellent storyline, including a series of captivating episodes in January and February, just as “24” was starting to slide. It left off with a climactic confrontation between the main good-guy, Peter Petrelli, and main bad-guy, Sylar, with the latter holding the former in a literally head-splitting vice grip of death. “Heroes” had been perfectly paced up until this point, answering questions with enough frequency to stem frustration while at the same time investing valuable screen time in establishing and developing its wide array of characters.
Unfortunately, “Heroes” creator Tim Kring, a veteran of episodic television (most notably “Crossing Jordan”), apparently took on way more than he could handle with the monster hit he so painstakingly created. “Heroes” took a seven-week break in preparation for its stretch run that culminated in Monday night’s finale, “How to Stop an Exploding Man,” and the time away was not kind. Upon returning five weeks ago, it almost didn’t feel like the same show. Kring had established the ubiquitous “Save the cheerleader, save the world” tagline, but when it came to actually saving the world, he couldn’t quite figure out how to do it.
Instead, we were left with one big freight train of a plot barreling nearly out of control toward a conclusion, as “Heroes” rushed its way to a chunky, choppy, unwieldy final hour in which all its characters seemed to be slammed together by the flimsiest of threads—even for a comic-book style story. Almost every major character on the show, in fact, was reduced to little more than facilitating the plot, and the much-hyped battle between Peter and Sylar ended up being little more than a bar-fight tussle.
In one rather innovative touch, the final couple minutes of Monday’s episode actually began “Volume Two.” However, by the time Hiro found himself in 17th-century Japan, I was having trouble coming up with a reason to keep watching this show next season.

The real action Monday night, it turns out, was over on “24,” which rebounded rather nicely in its last two hours of Day 6.
A few weeks back, “24” producer/writer Howard Gordon—in a refreshing admission of guilt—acknowledged complaints about this season are legitimate, and promised a “reinvention” for next year. That certainly was music to most fans’ ears, but I was still concerned: The myriad strained plotlines of Day 6 had so fouled up the show, I hoped the writers would completely cut the cord on this season. I didn’t want a traditional cliffhanger, because I feared any significant loose ends needing to be dealt with in Day 7 would act like a cancer that would eat its way through the show and, ultimately, kill it prematurely.
Thankfully, I got my wish (basically).
Looking back, I still don’t know exactly how they did it in just two hours, but the “24” production team managed to kill Jack’s dad, capture Jack’s former captor/torturer, recover a nuclear component, and curtail World War III. Oh, and give Chloe a baby (big mistake). And it was pretty compelling—if there’s one thing the team never forgot this season, it was how to stage exciting action sequences.
On top of that, they also made room for Kiefer Sutherland to deliver one of his best scenes in the history of the series. In the final act of hour 24, Jack slipped into the home of former Secretary of Defense James Heller (played by one of “24’s” all-time greats, William Devane) in search of Heller’s daughter, Audrey, who Jack loves “with all his heart.” Finally, Jack was able to unleash a portion of the pent-up rage he’s been carrying for years spent sacrificing for a government who has taken nearly every opportunity to throw its loyal special agent to the wolves. Yet, in true “24” excellence, the show didn’t allow Jack complete immunity. Heller came right back at Jack, correctly asserting that Agent Bauer will never be able fully “retire,” and thus Audrey will never really be out of harm’s way. Jack, to his credit, really and truly heard Heller’s plea/command, and said his final farewell to his near-comatose beloved.
That sound you heard was the last cord splitting.
We left Jack standing out on Heller’s seaside balcony, presumably pondering what in the world he’s going to do now. The writers are probably wondering the same thing, but at least they set up a relatively blank canvas for next season (the only holdover I’d like to see is the fabulous Peter MacNicol as Tom Lennox, who after a sluggish start became the go-to guy of the day’s second half).
Monday’s “24” finale certainly wasn’t good enough to wash away the stigma of Day 6. Only a supreme effort next year will return this series anywhere close to its Emmy-winning form, but one subpar season is acceptable in the long run, providing the show recovers. I’m certainly willing to give this group the benefit of the doubt. They’ve earned it.
Tim Kring’s heroes, on the other hand, have not.

‘Pearl Jam’: One Year Gone

A year ago, I posted my review of Pearl Jam’s self-titled eighth studio album, otherwise known as “Avocado.” At the end of that opus, I asked a handful of questions that could only be answered with time. Now that a year has passed, I thought I’d go back and respond to those ruminations, because my love for this album has not diminished at all with time.
I’ll take the unanswered questions in reverse order:

1. “Will it fade into mediocrity with time like ‘Riot Act’”?
This is probably the easiest. In a word: No. A year later, I can still put this CD in at any time and enjoy it almost as much as the first time I heard it. Some of the songs may have dimmed slightly now that the flush of new Pearl Jam is gone (I’m thinking specifically of “Comatose” and “Marker in the Sand”), but others gained strength (“Parachutes” and “Worldwide Suicide”) with repeated listens and context. Overall “Avocado” stands firm on the quality of its songs. “Riot Act” does not.

2. “Will its uptempo rockers still get the blood flowing like ‘Vitalogy’”?
Absolutely. As a group, the opening stretch from “Life Wasted” to “Marker” remains as good a five-song run as the band has ever recorded. My recommendation: Go find a live version of “Life Wasted” that includes Mike McCready’s scorching song-closing solo that was criminally faded out on the album.

3. “Will its more experimental moments still sound good a decade later like ‘No Code’”?
Okay, so this one technically is still unanswerable, but I’ll refer again to the lilting “Parachutes” as a song that’s improved in the interim, while the intro to “Severed Hand,” the multi-tracked vocal on “Unemployable,” and the structure of “Inside Job” remain as thrilling as ever.

4. “Will it prove to have the perfect trifecta of ‘Given to Fly,’ ‘Do the Evolution,’ and ‘In Hiding’ like ‘Yield’”?
Unfortunately, no. Those three songs really are perfection in triplicate and remain in my “Pearl Jam Top 10.” “Life Wasted” is the only song off “Avocado” to crack that difficult list, but were I to extend the criteria to, say, 25, “Pearl Jam” would be well represented—“Severed Hand,” “Unemployable,” “Come Back,” and “Inside Job” would all make the cut. Which leads to my final question …

5. “Where will ‘Pearl Jam’ rank in the group’s deep catalog”?
This is certainly the toughest question, largely because ranking Pearl Jam’s albums is nearly impossible (other than “Riot Act” landing soundly at the bottom of the list) due to my emotional connection to each of them. As a whole, though, I now rank “Avocado” at the top of the list. On a track-by-track basis it may not have as many “classics” as previous efforts, but top to bottom, front to back, it's stronger and flows better than any other record in the repertoire. There are no weak entries (even “Army Reserve” has grown on me somewhat), and the collective feeling of satisfaction from this album is unmatched by any of the other seven. When I need a burst of energy to meet a deadline, or company on a road trip, or just 50 minutes of great music, “Avocado” fits the bill. If Pearl Jam never recorded another album, this record would be a fitting and fulfilling conclusion to a fantastic career.

So, that said, it’s time to do the impossible: Here’s how PJ’s albums shake out on my list, along with my 10 favorite songs:

ALBUMS
Avocado
Yield
Vitalogy
No Code
Ten
Binaural
Vs.
Riot Act

SONGS (in no particular order, and subject to change at any time)
Corduroy
Do the Evolution
Given to Fly
Hard to Imagine
In Hiding
Life Wasted
Porch
Release
Sad
Wash

THE NEXT 15
Alive
Betterman
Come Back
Grievance
Immortality
In My Tree
Inside Job
Insignificance
Long Road
Not For You
Off He Goes
Present Tense
Severed Hand
Spin the Black Circle
Unemployable

‘Spider-Man 3’

In the wake of the record-smashing opening weekend for “Spider-Man 3,” it will be interesting to see if the wall-crawler’s financial web is strong enough to bring the band back together again for one more go-round.
If a fourth-quel does occur, that would actually be a shame in one sense, because the flaws in “Spider-Man 3” all stem from writer/director Sam Raimi’s seeming attempt to get all his big ideas down on film before momentum finally washed the Spider out.
Throughout the production process and pre-release media campaign for the third installment in this elite blockbuster franchise, much of the hype has centered on “will this be the last one?”—at least as presently constituted with Tobey Maguire donning the red-and-blue (and sometimes black) tights and Raimi at the helm of what some say was the most expensive film ever made. Even though everyone involved in these movies has made a gazillion dollars—the original “Spider-Man” opened in 2002 with a then-record $114 million and went on to gross more than $400 million domestically, while the 2004 sequel finished at $373 million—it’s not hard to imagine a scenario where they all just get sick of it. These productions are just a tad more complicated and grueling to film than, say, “Wonder Boys.”
With the anvil of collective artistic burnout hanging over his head, “Spider-Man 3” feels like Raimi tried to jam two movies into one; the individual parts are excellent, but together they become somewhat ponderous. Back when Topher Grace (Eric from “That ’70’s Show”) was cast as Peter’s arch-rival Eddie Brock/Venom, the original plot rumors implied his character would merely be introduced in this film while Peter handled some other baddie, leaving the classic Spidey-Venom clash for No. 4. If those rumors aren’t true, fine, but it sure seems like Raimi had to shoehorn Venom into No. 3 just to make sure he actually got the comic-book icon onscreen.
There are four—count ’em FOUR—major storylines running through “Spider-Man 3”: Peter’s ongoing romance with Mary Jane (played pitch-perfect once again by Kirsten Dunst) and the tension his time-intensive crime-stopping hijinx puts on their relationship; Peter/Spidey’s ongoing feud with best friend and son of the dead-since-No. 1 Green Goblin, Harry Osborn (played once again by James Franco, who stepped up big time this round with his best performance by far); Spidey vs. The Sandman (featuring a pleasantly surprising grounded turn by Thomas Haden Church) which also holds implications for plot threads tracing back to No. 1; and Spidey vs. The Symbiote vs. Eddie Brock/Venom (in other words, the totally-wicked fight we’ve all been waiting for). Whew, I’m tired just typing all that. And, yes, it’s a whole lot to squeeze into one movie, even one that runs nearly two and a half hours.
To their credit, Raimi and co-writers Ivan Raimi and Alvin Sargent weave all of these plots together rather well, as Peter’s motivations throughout the film bounce from one thread to another with absolute sincerity. It still comes off as somewhat choppy and workmanlike, though, because there’s just too stinkin’ much going on. All these necessary plot points lead to a serious amount of exposition to get all this heavy story-lifting accomplished. On first impression, there is way too much dialogue in this movie (an unusual complaint for a summer blockbuster, I know).
For my money, “Spider-Man 2” is the best comic-book adaptation of all time and one of the best action/adventure movies ever. It set the template for “Batman Begins” and every superhero movie to come (every one worth anything, anyway) by focusing more on Peter Parker than his high-flying alter ego. “Spider-Man 2” struck the perfect balance between real human drama and out-of-this-world heroics, and demonstrated how the former fueled the latter. Unfortunately, “Spider-Man 3” actually goes too far in Peter’s direction; I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but there simply isn’t enough Spider-Man in this movie.
Because, wow, when the web-slinger is unleashed in all his glory, it’s absolutely electricfying. We’ve become so drunk on special-effects laden action in the post-“Matrix” era (see “X-Men 3”), I didn’t think it was possible to really and truly make my jaw drop anymore. But EVERY SINGLE ACTION SCENE in “Spider-Man 3” is a home run. From Peter’s initial sans-costume mid-air fight with Harry (which everyone by now has seen on TV or the Internet) to the no-holds-barred climactic battle royale, Raimi and cinematographer Bill Pope never miss with eye-popping, mind-blowing, make-you-say-“Whoa!” action. Spider-Man pulls some maneuvers in this film that leave the choreography from the first two in the dust. All this breathtaking swingin’-and-clobberin’ is worth the price of admission on its own—you need to see this movie on a big screen. The special effects are once again improved, too, as there isn’t one scene that didn’t look absolutely genuine (just wait ’til you get your first good looks at Sandman and Venom!).
Raimi also injects some of his own off-the-wall humor into the third segment, too, which provides some lighter moments in what is overall a rather dark film. As has become tradition, J.K. Simmons steals every scene as gruff Daily Bugle editor J. Jonah Jameson, and there are several laugh-out-loud moments when Peter starts getting his inner “cool” on (a geek is a geek is a geek, even if he does have a supersuit from outer space). Every other major actor carries their weight well—Maguire was obviously born to play this role and seems to relish getting to play around in Spidey’s dark side for a while.
So from a technical standpoint, “Spider-Man 3” is a flawless exercise in big-budget filmmaking and sets the summer movie season off with a great start—if “Pirates 3,” et al can run with this baton, we should be in for a pretty good few months. It’s just too bad that as a devoted Spidey fanboy, Raimi couldn’t bring his personal Spider-Man saga—and now undoubtedly the best set of superhero movies of all time, despite its minor flaws—to the perfectly fulfilling conclusion he so obviously desired and envisioned. Like Peter Parker grasping for the engagement ring dangling just beyond his outstretched hand, this is a woulda-shoulda-coulda near-miss masterpiece.
Grade: B+

Arctic Monkeys, 'Favourite Worst Nightmare'

After a lengthy hiatus, I'm back reviewing records for RELEVANT. You can find my Arctic Monkeys write-up here. It's definitely an "A" album.
In the next several weeks I'm scheduled to cover new stuff by Wilco (they're streaming the entire album, "Sky Blue Sky," over at the official site, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to hold out for one more week until it hits stores May 15—I'm a no-leaks guy, in general, even if it is straight from the source—first impressions are very important, especially for highly-anticipated albums, and I don't want my first impression of this one to be through a computer), The White Stripes (wow, lead single/title track "Icky Thump" sounds like a welcome return to form), and The Smashing Pumpkins (I'm just hoping it doesn't suck).
Also, don't forget Ryan Adams has a new CD coming out soon (early June, I think), and the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs track "Sealings," which was just released as part of the "Spider-Man 3" soundtrack, is stellar—as good as anything on "Show Your Bones," and that's saying something. Definitely worth the 99 cents at iTunes, as is the new Snow Patrol cut that kicks off the soundtrack, "Signal Fire." Man, those guys are great.
Oh, and one thing I forgot to mention in my Arcade Fire review from a while back: This band goes great with Terry Goodkind novels. Don't know why, but it just works.

Welcome Back, Jack (and Tony, and that Other Jack)

WARNING: This post is rife with spoilers from the most recent episodes of "The Sopranos," "24," and "Lost"

It seems the producers behind “24” decided they had had enough of this lackluster season, too. So they just ended it a few episodes early and started over in classic “24” fashion. Who needs traditional television broadcast schedules, anyway?
But I’m getting ahead of myself in what was a tremendous three nights of television. Before Jack Bauer went all Indiana Jones Monday night, 24 hours earlier Tony Soprano & Family returned to spectacular form in the Season 6 Part II premiere of “The Sopranos.” After floundering through last spring’s 12 episodes, I almost didn’t come back for this final 9-ep run. But if this first installment is any indication, the classic series is going out on top of its game.
Sunday night was like a throwback to Season 1 greatness, back when each episode felt like its own mini-play. Even after all these years (the show’s been on since 1999, though that seems hard to believe), it still manages to surprise. Even though the tension between Janice and Tony had been building for more than a half-hour, that haymaker by Bobby still shocked me. And the ensuing brutal fight between the two heavyweights was as visceral an action sequence as has ever been done on “The Sopranos”—one without a whacking at the end, anyway.
So I was still mulling over Bobby’s touching embrace of his 3-year-old daughter and pondering his fate when “24” came calling. I’d become so unenthused about Season 6, I didn’t even watch it live, choosing to literally clean out my closet instead. Figures—I postpone the best hour in the past three months.
Now THIS is what we’ve been waiting for! In one sweeping gesture, the writers wiped this season clean and started fresh (well, almost, but we’ll get to that in a minute). Jack, reduced to little more than cameo appearances for the past month, was back to his rompin’, stompin’, butt-kicking ways once again. Not only did he end up underneath a big truck a la Harrison Ford in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” but he then engaged Fayed in one of “24’s” best-ever fight scenes and ended up killing him like Bruce Willis did to that German guy in “Die Hard.” “Say hello to your brother”: Classic. Agent Doyle (Ricky Schroder is looking increasingly comfortable in this skin, by the way) summed it up perfectly after surveying the Bauer-inflicted carnage that left every terrorist in the Greater Los Angeles Area dead and the nukes back in safe keeping: “Damn, Jack.” Indeed.
Keifer wasn’t the only one reveling in a rejuvenated script. D.B. Woodside gave the best performance in his “24” career as the back-from-the-near-dead President Wayne Palmer. Maybe Woodside actually received an adrenaline shot himself, because he finally ditched that wimpy whisper and started yelling and pounding desks like a real president. I’m sure it pisses off the liberal viewers out there, but I appreciate the fact that Wayne admitted there was a kernel of truth in Vice President Daniels’ excessive bomb-everyone-into-the-stone-ages philosophy (the U.S. was attacked by a nuclear bomb and is just supposed to sit around on its hands?). Both Palmer and Tom Lennox redeemed themselves somewhat in this episode, on both political and character levels.
So now Jack is off and running again, this time to save his beloved Audrey from the clutches of Evil Chinese Guy (his name escapes me at the moment, but he is EVIL). I’ve been telling anyone who will listen (and some who probably don’t want to) that if I ran “24,” I’d send Jack and Chloe to China next season and screw everybody else. Well, it seems I’ll get my wish (or at least part of it) a little earlier than expected. I’m hoping for a “24” twist—that it actually ends well for a change.
This ep certainly didn’t erase all the egregious errors in judgment made this season—Is President Logan dead? Where is Jack’s father? Why has Chloe been so marginalized? Why are we supposed to care about Milo and Nadia? And, while we’re at it, who broke into Nadia’s system a few hours back?—but it certainly starts the process of redemption for a series gone awry.
Then there’s our other beloved Jack, Jack Shepherd, resident physician of the “Lost” island. The good doctor had a reemergence of his own Wednesday night, returning to the beach encampment in what was without question one of the best episodes of the series.
Of course, Shepherd wasn’t much more than a bit player in an installment dedicated to the ever-intriguing Juliet, who along with Other-leader Ben has come to dominate this season in all the right ways. Elizabeth Mitchell continues her Emmy-caliber work as the inscrutable fertility researcher whose character grows by leaps and bounds seemingly with every scene. Mitchell’s range was stunning Wednesday night, giving us everything from heartbreak to comedy to thrilling moments of bravado (her verbal smackdown of Sayid and Sawyer is an all-time favorite “Lost” moment).
It’s no coincidence that Mitchell/Juliet has come along at the same time as this series’ resurgence after a stultifying second season; the character and the woman portraying her are the polar opposite of Michelle Rodriguez’s Ana-Lucia, who was mercifully killed off late last season.
With its multiple reveals (the Others are infertile in the worst kind of way! But they can cure cancer?!?), Wednesday night’s episode was perfect and compelling in every single scene, not a moment wasted. With nary a misstep this entire season (I defy those who say the six-episode run last fall wasn’t compelling), a series I had just about given up on by this time last year has roared back to life and reclaimed its place on the Mount Rushmore of TV in 2007.
It’s just too bad ratings for all three of these shows are down this year. People don’t know what they’re missing. If “Heroes” and “Smallville” keep hitting on all cylinders when they return this month, my head might actually explode.

Richard Is Right

Richard Cypher, speaking in Terry Goodkind’s “Naked Empire”:

Compromising with murderers … grants them moral equivalence where none can rightfully exist. Moral equivalence says that you are no better than they; therefore, their belief—that they should be able to torture, rape, or murder you—is just as morally valid as your view—that you have the right to live free of their violence. Moral compromise rejects the concept of right and wrong. It says that everyone is equal, all desires are equally valid, all action is equally valid, so everyone should compromise to get along.

Where could you compromise with those who torture, rape, and murder people? In the number of days a week you will be tortured? In the number of men to be allowed to rape your loved ones? In how many of your family are to be murdered?

No moral equivalence exists in that situation, nor can it exist, so there can be no compromise, only suicide.

To even suggest compromise can exist with such men is to sanction murder.

If only we could find a Richard Cypher in this world.
Then again, someone who comes along these days making this much sense may just be the Antichrist.

Snow Patrol w/Silversun Pickups, 3.23.07

It’s nice to see notoriety is sitting well with Snow Patrol.
After nearly a decade under the radar (in the U.S., anyway), the Irish quintet seems rather unfazed with its newfound success stemming from last year’s breakout hit “Chasing Cars.” Frontman Gary Lightbody was pleasantly down to earth Friday night at American University in D.C., making self-deprecating jokes and charming small talk in between songs during an excellent 90-minute set.
The handling of “Cars” was particularly impressive. Lightbody acknowledged the song’s import to the band, as it “may be the reason many of you are here tonight—and that’s fine, we’re glad to have you.” SP put the song in perfect position at seventh on a 17-song night; they didn’t use it right up front as a cheap way to grab people’s attention, but didn’t let it hang around unplayed for too long, either, dangling it in front of those in the audience who only knew that one song.
Even for the latter, they would have to be deaf and dumb not to come away from the show with a better appreciation for this band. Queue the setlist (found below, thanks to a poster on their UK message board—I wasn’t taking notes for a change) on your iPod and you’ll find an absolute powerhouse lineup, with winner after winner after winner. It’s not often I go to a show and get every song I wanted to hear, but Friday night was one of those rare times. From “Run” to “Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking” to “Shut Your Eyes” to the awesome closer “Hands Open,” the band was tight and forceful all night, and the sound was perfectly mixed.
Of the many highlights, certainly one of the best was D.C. native Valerie, who did an admirable job of filling in for Martha Wainwright on the duet “Set the Fire to the Third Bar.” Lightbody pulls a woman from the audience every night to sing with him, and he seemed genuinely impressed with Friday night’s lucky fan—and with good reason, because she basically nailed it.
The stage design was impressive without overpowering the music. In fact, it seems the band picked up a little something from U2 while opening for their fellow Irishmen, as the Patrol had a miniature version of U2’s light curtain that allowed images to be displayed on it.
Snow Patrol is playing larger venues these days thanks to “Cars,” but they didn’t seem uncomfortable or out of character in the least. In fact, you’d think mid-sized college gymnasiums would be a bad place for a show (AU’s Bender Arena holds about 5,000 people). But on the contrary, I’ve seen three concerts in the past year and a half in these size venues, and they’ve all felt and sounded great. There’s something about a college campus that lends itself to good concerts—and it’s not just because a bunch of kids are there, because Snow Patrol’s audience ranges from those younger and older than me. It was just a good vibe all night.
Of course, it helps when the opening band commands the stage and arrest everyone’s attention so effortlessly.
Even though I put Silversun Pickups’ “Rusted Wheel” on my “Songs of 2006” list, I should have written about them in more depth by now because this L.A. quartet is one of my favorite bands of the moment.
Lightbody dubbed the group’s debut album, 2006's “Carnavas,” a “masterpiece” from the stage Friday night. That may be overstating a bit, but it is tremendous. I’m not going to rush to compare the Pickups to anything, because they offer a singular sound—gritty and harsh, yet soaring and beautiful all at the same time, especially when lead singer/guitarist Brian Aubert hits his upper register.
The band was spectacular Friday night, steadied by terrific bass work from Nikki Monninger; rarely have I seen an opening band—especially the first of three groups on a bill—win over a crowd so quickly. But that’s the nature and appeal of the Pickups, with their loopy melodies that go from mellow to thrashing in the blink of an eye. They played one of the best six-song sets you’ll ever see Friday night—too bad they had to make way for the mediocre OK Go. They’re not bad, really, and the crowd seemed to dig them, but I’m just not into the whole jokey vibe they put off. Still, after the performances from Snow Patrol and Silversun Pickups, it’s not like I came away disappointed.

Snow Patrol
Bender Arena, American University
Washington, D.C.
3.23.07
Running time: 90 minutes

Spitting Games
It’s Beginning to Get to Me
Chocolate
Headlights on Dark Roads
How to Be Dead
Grazed Knees
Chasing Cars
Shut Your Eyes
Set the Fire to the Third Bar
Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking
Make This Go on Forever
Ways and Means
Run
You’re All I Have

Encore:
The Finish Line
Open Your Eyes
Hands Open


Silversun Pickups
Running time: 30 minutes

Well Thought Out Twinkles
Rusted Wheel
Dream at Tempo 119
Little Lover’s So Polite
Kissing Families
Lazy Eye