Beatbots Webzine

Video Reviews : Alice in Wonderland by Tim Burton

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 10:10:19 -0500

Tim Burton's latest, Alice in Wonderland, for all intents and purposes appears to be an exercise in turning on Ann Everton's Binch mode. Watch Hausu instead--Disney doesn't need your money, and Hausu ruled and is way trippier than Alice in Wonderland. But for the sake of gentleness, I'll try to flip it around and say something positive: all them actors had fun acting in this. Bonham Carter did her thing, Depp had fun, Glover had fun, Hathaway (my college classmate!) killed it. She did her damn thing; I didn't expect to enjoy her as much as I did. She rules. Also, there were life lessons I took from this movie: the first is that some narratives do not translate well into being squished into more conventional western narratives (here, an amalgamation of the coming-of-age tome mixed with young female empowerment). Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is a surreal mid-nineteenth century book which contains no blatant examples of the simplistic archetypes of good guy/bad guy, no romantic plot devices or subplots, and no real propaganda or lessons to further any agenda except maybe to be curious and go home. It's a dream narrative, and therein lies its beauty. Here, however, Burton takes an artistic license to try and fit Carroll's weird dream into an after-school special about friendship, courage, and justice. Let him have a whack at it--shit, the story's only been filmed about 600 times.

The second thing I learned from watching Alice in Wonderland is that I'm over computers for special effects in movies, specifically 3D modeling. Jurassic Park was cool to see dinosaurs stamping and flying around Laura Dern, but now it's really no big deal--we can image anything. That's why Avatar left me cold--a digital retelling of Fern Gully acted out by robots with celebrity voices cannot hold a candle to some dude (or three) sweating away in a Jabba the Hutt suit. The human aura is removed. It's like listening to Jack FM--it's great to hear the song "Sausalito Summernights" right after a Nirvana song or "Baby Got Back" or something like that, until you realize a robot picked it out on shuffle and there is no human mind trying to tease you with such an unorthodox pairing. Computer animation is blatantly dull and dehumanizing--do I have to even be writing this? Seeing the thing in 3D or IMAX is fun and novel, but I feel like drugs would get you "there" quicker!!!!! Ha ha ha!!!

Audio Reviews : Unmap by Volcano Choir

Sat, 06 Mar 2010 13:47:40 -0500

In the world of music, there are performers and there are artists.

While it may read like a repurposed Volkswagen tagline, this statement�rather, the sentiment it conveys�highlights a sometimes not-so-clear demarcation between what one might call �transient� and �lifer� musicians, the casual hobbyists and the consummate professionals, the hometown heroes and the breakout success stories, those who view their music-making as a job and those who consider it a vocation.

Granted, in the great Venn Diagram sense of things, there is a lot of overlap amongst those various groups, and most listeners would likely be inclined to draw the line (and presumably leave it) somewhere between the major and minor leagues: the musicians and bands who (maybe) release an album or two, plus or minus a hit single and an international tour, before fading away into fondly-remembered semi-obscurity versus the consistent Top 40 chart-toppers who hang around for the lifelong haul of constant radio and commercial airplay, certified gold records, studio and tour line-up changes, sold-out stadium concerts, �Best of� collections, and countless farewell and reunion tours. Which, of course, gives little to no consideration to those musicians and bands who continue to perform and record simply because�or, in the sheer absence�of a regular paycheque or widely-publicized success.

So, to cut through the muddle of the matter, the crux, the dividing line between a �performer� and an �artist�, is one�s motivation: the pursuit of fame and/or financial security versus the devotion of one�s life to the far more personal (and decidedly less fiduciary) payoff of creative expression.

It�s a thought that often kicks around in the back of my head whenever I find myself listening to music made by those who could hardly be considered breakaway success stories, particularly as they and their creative output get on in years. While this may come across as somewhat ageist, it is hard to deny that making music, particularly pop and rock music, has often been considered a young person�s game�one that does not pay particularly well, yet fully taxes those limited stores of emotional and creative energies which doubtless tend to lose their initial market value as the weight and worries of the world begin to wear away at one�s novelty, as well as lower one�s resistance to that innate desire to settle down, to plant roots, and to carefully tend to that which grows. Aside from the obvious issue of attracting and maintaining a dedicated audience, musicians and songwriters have to deal with the fact that the mind wanders, the heart moves on, and touring opportunities and studio time inevitably take a back seat to the demands of family, friends, and �real� work. Few and far between are those who can maintain their creative focus, let alone their creative desire, in the face of such worldly considerations.

Which is why bands like Volcano Choir come across as such a pleasant surprise. Specifically, that long-established musician-composers like Jon Mueller, Chris Rosenau, Jim Schoenecker, Daniel Spack, and Thomas Wincek�otherwise known as the gents behind the Milwaukeean experimental-instrumental outfit Collections of Colonies of Bees�are still actively engaged and engaging in their creative pursuits. And, with the help of fellow Wisconsinite Justin Vernon, that they are willing to put a new face and a slightly new spin on the analog-generated, digitally augmented compositions that Mueller & co. have been crafting for well over a decade.

Given this, it�s worth keeping in mind that the Volcano Choir ensemble is, essentially, Collections of Colonies of Bees plus one�that one being the sweetly-singing and strumming Justin Vernon�and, even though the most common critical pitch for the project mentions Vernon�s day job as the frontman of indie darlings Bon Iver (and, formerly, of DeYarmond Edison), listeners should not expect the same heart-wringing harmonies and acoustic pop-folksiness as heard in the likes of �Skinny Love� or �Flume�. Yes, Vernon is here, but Volcano Choir is not, and is not trying to be, Bon Iver, Jr. Matter o� fact, many of the tunes on Volcano Choir�s debut album, Unmap, predate Vernon�s time as Bon Iver.

That said, Vernon�s vocal harmonies are still in play on Unmap. Opening track �Husks and Shells� starts out with a somewhat unsure and increasingly mutative acoustic guitar riff leading up to Vernon�s signature croons (with choral support), but the frequently layered and oft-unintelligible vocal aspect of the song is more for additive texture than narrative framing. Whereas �Husks and Shells� gives the listener a heavier dose of Vernon, �Seeplymouth� leads off with the sweet ear honey of Collections of Colonies of Bees, its low-lying rhythms and ever-increasing layers of guitar notes, vocal samples, and sundry tones building up and up and up to meet Spack and Rosenau�s drawn-out riffs, Mueller�s pulse-pounding percussion, Schoenecker and Wincek�s haunting digital effects, and Vernon�s intriguingly garbled voice. The overt focus on growth and volume in �Seeplymouth� actually comes across as a bit of a departure for both Bees and Vernon, its bass drum bombast approaching a post-rock aesthetic of explosive excess that Mueller & co.�s typically reserved compositions have heretofore largely avoided. Crank up your stereo and check the low-end response for the last two minutes of that track�it�s guaranteed to shake your windows and rattle your neighbours.

Current video-single �Island, IS� is probably the best synthesis of Collections of Colonies of Bees� minimalist experimentalism and Vernon�s crooner folk-pop on all of Unmap, its tweaked guitars, reserved percussion, and synth effects providing a dense, head-bobbing backdrop for Vernon�s calmly sung-spoken (and oddly Tunde Adebimpe-ish) vox.

�Dote�, on the other hand, takes a turn towards densely layered sonic experimentalism, starting off with a looping background hum overlaid with ethereal tones, affected e-bowed guitar, sundry atmospherics, and Vernon�s distinct-yet-indecipherable voice�it�s all rather Sigur R�s-ian, really. Next up, �And Gather� largely eschews the electronic effects in favour of a far more acoustic arrangement of comp-contrasting guitar notes, handclaps, and vocal harmonies with only light keyboard flourishes here and there. It�s an odd one, to be sure, but hardly fair warning for the eerie strangeness of �Mbira in the Morass�, which starts off with clinking, clunking, chiming, plunking, and gonging not-quite-found-sounds that lead into, and then lie beneath, scattershot piano, reserved percussion, and Vernon�s haunting, gospel-like intonations.

The breathy ha-hummm and layered/looped vocal effects of �Cool Knowledge� give it something of an a capella/human beatbox aspect, which is a fine compliment to Mueller�s punchy percussion. Still, it�s an all-too-quick minute that fades to nothing before moving on to the more fully-developed �Still�. A fine addition to similarly lengthy tracks like �Seeplymouth� and �Island, IS�, �Still� once again finds that happy midpoint between Vernon�s pastoral, lyric-heavy tunes and Collections of Colonies of Bees� metamorphic-minimalist electro-instrumental experimentalism. Based off of Bon Iver�s �Woods� (off the Blood Bank EP), �Still� reimagines Vernon�s original vocoder phrase, �I�m up in the woods / I�m down in my mind / I�m building a still / to slow down the time�. The Volcano Choir ensemble starts off with low-lying, drawn-out synth emanations and slow-building guitar notes before introducing Vernon�s central line, eventually adding to its central vocal melody with lush, layered guitar riffs, weighty percussion, and various subtle effects, all of which breathe new life into an already arresting song.

Closing out the album, the ominous drones, banjo, punctuating percussion, and choral harmonies of �Youlogy� once again provide a strangely affecting backdrop for Vernon�s pastoral-gospel lead. As befits its punning title, �Youlogy� is a sombre sign-off for Unmap, with Vernon�s �Amazing Grace�-like lilt calmly sending the listener on his or her way.

All told, Volcano Choir�s Unmap is one of those albums that should be thought of as an experiment, a labour of love, a group of musician-friends getting together and recording what develops. Not every track comes off as wholly listenable and attention-grabbing in and of itself, and most rely on the added context of their adjacent songs�as well as knowledge of their composers� respective endeavours as Bon Iver and Collections of Colonies of Bees�to truly make sense of this mash-up of pastoral folk-pop and electro-acoustic sound-shaping. Unmap may not be a runaway pop hit of crowd-pleasing, chart-topping proportions, but that�s okay: it wasn�t meant to be.

Audio Reviews : Fun EP by Algernon Cadwallader

Fri, 12 Feb 2010 14:51:05 -0500

All you lot currently prying yourselves from the icy grip of the Snowpocalypse may hate me for writing this, but I actually like the wintertime. I like the solstice/holiday season that kicks everything off, and I like the cold nights that are perfectly suited to heavy blankets, long books, and hot cups of tea. I like wool coats and sweaters, scarves, gloves, and knit caps. I like snow (yeah, you read that correctly), and I don�t mind shoveling it o�ermuch. I especially like the brilliant post-snow days when the sun shines so blindingly brightly and the sky is so clear that, even though the temperature hovers around 20�F with a wind chill of -10�, it feels pleasantly warm�probably from the reflected UVB overload, or perhaps from the residual effects of 750ml winter warmers. Difficult to say which, really.

Even so, there always seems to be at least one album released during the winter months that is remarkably out of place with the season: its songs upbeat and sunny rather than pensive and somber, its lyrics about water sports, sudden rain storms, and hot days spent hanging out at the beach. Not that such sol-worshipping sentiments are wholly unwelcome, it�s just that, typically, spring and summer are so far out of sight and mind during the not-so-bleak midwinter that I am not yet looking forward to the warmer seasons, nor am I so frustrated with the cold that I find myself cursing the drifts and drafts of December�February.

To this effect, Algernon Cadwallader�s Fun EP is something of a wintertime killjoy. Sure, Fun�s primary 7� and bonus CD are full of energetic, entertaining tunes, but they cannot help but bring to mind all those happy instances of spring- and summertime revelry that are still so damnably far away. As such: You tease me with your angularly tap-happy riffs, your hearty rhythms, and your infectious shout-along yawps, Algernon Cadwallader, and I don�t much care for it.

Okay, that�s not entirely true. I do like the music, and this Philadelphia trio�s take on the Chi-town post-punk staple of staccato arpeggiations and hammer-ons, motile bass riffs, punchy percussion, and pleasantly grating vocals is a moderately new twist on a relatively old favourite (see also: Cap�n Jazz, Joan of Arc, Owls, Ghosts and Vodka, Maps & Atlases). Sure, Algernon Cadwallader are a bit rough around the edges, particularly since vocalist Peter Helmis�s emphatic, Tim Kinsella-ish squawking often favours intensity over intelligibility; still, the instrumental combo of Helmis�s understated bass, Joe Reinhart�s noodling six-string, and Tank Bergman�s rambunctious drumming will doubtless keep you coming back for more�probably to the point where Helmis�s slurred burbling is understood both literally and intuitively. Hardly a bad thing, if you ask me.

As for the EP, Side A of Algernon Cadwallader�s Fun 7� keeps things light and energetic with references to summertime frolicking in the Swann Memorial Fountain in �Spit Fountain� and to public intoxication in the eponymous �Fun�. Initially as upbeat as its predecessors, Side B�s �Foggy Mountain� resolves its thoughts on teenaged reticence into a slow, clarinet- and trombone-aided plodder. Though its transformation comes across somewhat unexpectedly at first brush, �Foggy Mountain� serves as a nice prep track for the equally low-key jam of �Black Clouds�, the first of three additional tunes found on the Fun EP�s bonus CD. Similarly, �I Wanna Go to the Beach� seems a bit too laid-back when compared to the band�s earlier efforts (the Some Kind of Cadwallader LP in particular), so it�s worth noting that the song was recorded as part of a school project; ditto for the calming, one-minute-long instrumental of �Responsible Party�. If anything, it will be interesting to see how Algernon Cadwallader integrate their a-lyrical segues and calmer fare into their upcoming second full length.

Like most 7� records and limited-press releases, Algernon Cadwallader�s Fun EP is a grab-bag containing rough cuts and polished gems alike, a short-and-sweet in-betweener designed more for earnest fans and early adopters than casual listeners. Still, if you�re looking for something to help you shake off the mid-winter doldrums (or simply to remind you of how much you miss the summer), then Fun is a pretty good place to start. Better hop to, though�you�d be surprised at how quickly 1000 records can disappear.

Features : In the Rotation #4 by Tom K�rp

Tue, 02 Feb 2010 11:14:32 -0500

Sweet sassy molasses, is it 2010? Already? What in the world happened to 2009?

A better question: what the hell has taken me so long to get through this blasted pile of albums?

What, indeed. Laziness, cable TV (specifically: Sterling Cooper and the Paddy�s gang), Wii-ing, bears, and a woefully short attention span all have something to do with it, if truth be told. Moreover, it would seem as though the aforementioned pile of albums has grown since last I looked at it�damn thing is worse than a warren full of horny rabbits, really�and the heretofore tacit agreement which I had made with myself back in the fall (to plow through �til I was current with September/October releases) is no longer applicable. Moreover, since I have not yet worked my way through said albums, I cannot rightly do a �Best of 2009� list, now can I? Quite the dilemma, that.

Unless� now, this may sound a wee bit touched� but what say we make this edition of �In the Rotation� into a haphazard �Year in Review�? Forget the highfalutin� assignation of �best� or �worst�, and just think of it as an (over)arch(ing) list of what some dude listened to in naught-nine and neglected to write about properly during the course of the year. That�s pretty much what you were going to get anyway�and what year-end lists are to begin with�just in a slightly different (and arguably more honest) package.

But, whichever way you take it, thanks for reading, and be sure to check the back catalogue for previous installments of �In the Rotation� (#1, #2, #3) if you need to catch up. Rest assured, you�re not the only one.

Lucky Dragons / Ecstatic Sunshine � Friendship/Trip 02 Split 7�
hawksandsparrows.org | thelifestyle.info/ecstatic
(January 2009, Wildfire Wildfire)

In addition to hanging at the Wolfe Street beer garden and sampling the wares of various food vendors (delicious crab cake sammiches!), one of my favourite Fell�s Fest traditions is rifling through the stacks at Sound Garden for local Charm City treasures. Sure, this usually means that I�m �that guy� wandering around the Fell�s Point watering holes later that night, large orange bag of records in tow, one-handedly juggling drinks and cash when trying to settle up a tab. Messy messy. But it also means that, one heady hangover and a three-hour drive later, I�m able to kick back and relax with some newly-acquired wax�which is a fair trade, if you ask me. My most recent set of Fell�s Fest acquisitions includes Wildfire Wildfire�s second entry in the Friendship/Trip split 7� series, featuring LA�s Lucky Dragons and Baltimore�s own Ecstatic Sunshine. At first brush, the ethereal sound-tweaking of Lucky Dragons� �Take Turns� brings to mind bright bits of M�m and Gastr del Sol�that whole �musique concr�te� deal of non-traditional/non-musical sounds being sliced, diced, mixed, matched, and arranged in a musical fashion�plus or minus a bit of Unwed Sailor circa The Marionette and the Music Box. Strange and surreal, yeah, but thematically cohesive, wonderfully understated, and wholly captivating. Unexpected as Lucky Dragons sonic collages are (for me, at least), the real curveball on this split is Ecstatic Sunshine�s �Easy is Right�: I�ve grown so accustomed to Dustin Wong-era Ecstatic Sunshine�s stripped-down, rapid-fire guitar-duo face-melting that the very thought of them producing any sort of electronic, noise-infused squibs, blips and squawks seems completely out of the question. But they do, and it works. Better yet, Ecstatic Sunshine�s experiment with electroacoustics sits remarkably well with Lucky Dragons� own sound-sampling alchemy, making for a surprisingly similar sonic experience and an excellent Fell�s Fest find. (!!!!!!!!!! 6/10)

Shinobu � Strange Spring Air
myspace.com/shinobu
(March 2009, Quote Unquote Records)

I feel somewhat guilty for having not paid much attention to the goings-on of Shinobu over the past year or so. I say �somewhat� because, as far as I was aware, the San Josean quartet had been on a sort of indefinite hiatus, what with guitarist Matt Keegan hoofing it out to Brooklyn to moonlight with the likes of Bomb the Music Industry!, drummer Jon Fu and bassist Bob Vielma teaching English and eating horses in Japan (and playing in other bands besides), and guitarist/vocalist Mike Huguenor shacking up with Pteradon alums Morgan Herrell and Max Feschbach in Hard Girls (which doubles as the backing band for Jesse Michaels� latest project, Classics of Love). So, yeah, the Shino-guys were all busy elsewhere, and the band itself was understandably out of sight and mind for some time before I noticed, quite accidentally at that, that Huguenor & co. had snuck one more album past the goalie. As Shinobu�s third (and possibly final) full-length, Strange Spring Air more than lives up to its name: it�s as enjoyably weird as anything they have produced in the past�emphatic, endearing, and messily DIY to a fault�and just as infectious and invigorating as its title would suggest. It�s also the first Shinobu album to be written near-entirely as a collaborative effort. Granted, primary songwriter Mike Huguenor still has his say with Sebadoh-ish guitar noodling and a casual smattering of obscure in-song references both literary and pop-cultural (to whit: Moby Dick in �Cetacean History�), but you also get to hear Vielma�s unabashed love for his feline friends (�Sometimes I Wish I Were a Cat�), Keegan�s six-string skills in �Amor Fati�, and Fu�s appraisal of the San Francisco Zoo �Tiger!� attacks. Also: the tale of the indomitable Moustache King, and an ode to friendship, videogames, and touring musicians� camaraderie in �Jeff Rosenstock�s �We��. Overall, the added creative voices make Strange Spring Air even stranger, which is no small feat considering the unapologetic oddness of Shinobu�s entire oeuvre. Yeah, these guys are undeniably weird, but always in a good (and frequently rewarding) way. (!!!!!!!!!! 6/10)

Peter Bjorn and John � Living Thing
peterbjornandjohn.com
(March 2009, Almost Gold)

Considering the auditory ubiquity and transatlantic success of Peter Bjorn and John�s Writer�s Block�the earworm whistling of �Young Folks� and the Levi Strauss & Co.-approved beat of �Up Against the Wall� were near-impossible to avoid in naught-six and -seven�I�m hard-pressed to consider PB&J�s proper follow-up album, Living Thing, anything but a misstep. Yeah, yeah, I know full and well that PB&J dropped Seaside Rock in naught-eight, but a limited release of 5000 LPs (plus however many intangible digital downloads) seems more like an intentionally rarified collector�s item than a dedicated�which is to say, �proper��album replete with all of the marketing/promotional bells and whistles available to such a widely recognizable band. Speaking of which: whereas Seaside Rock limited itself with physical unavailability (not to mention a-lyrical ambience and off-the-beaten-path affectedness), Living Thing cuts back on the proven-popular lushness which was the bread and butter of Writer�s Block. In place of jangling guitars and organic percussion, we have electro synth and drum machine backbeats, infrequent and highly affected six-string riffs, and sparse blips, pops, and drones, all lying low in the mix while Mor�n, Yttling, and Eriksson float equally staid vocals overtop the lot. Conventional wisdom would argue that this is PB&J branching out and trying new things, forcing themselves to adapt to life outside of their comfort zone of tried-and-true guitar-and-drum pop; in the B-movie motif, it would be the equivalent of a warrior monk sparring while blindfolded, purposefully dulling one sense in order to focus on (and thereby strengthen) another. But whatever wisdom I pretend to should never be considered conventional, let alone practical, so my interpretation of Living Thing goes something like this: �Oh, you liked Writer�s Block, eh? Well, too bad. We�re doing something different. It�s minimalist! It�s electronic! Deal with it!� Fair enough, but it don�t move me in quite the same way. Would that Peter Bjorn and John were wholly successful in their own self-reinvention, but I just can�t hear a lick of Living Thing without thinking how much better it would have sounded built up and sans synthetics, its riffs composed of jangling guitars and harmonizing vocals riding the crest of a full drum kit� okay, maybe a keyboard here and there, but none of that auto-tuned, studio-heavy finagling. At the very least, I can take comfort in knowing that PB&J�s electro phase is probably just that: a phase. (!!!!!!!!!! 5/10)

Yeah Yeah Yeahs � It�s Blitz!
yeahyeahyeahs.com
(March 2009, Interscope)

For what it�s worth, my initial reaction to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs was less than favourable. In spite of certain trusted friends who were hailing the Yeahs as the Next Big Thing, I couldn�t help but pick at the seams of the alt-rock trio, brushing both the band and naught-three�s Fever to Tell off as shameless cribbers of Siouxsie Sioux, Robert Smith, and garage punk and �New Wave� in general�modern upstarts mixing late 70�s/early 80�s post-punk with the new-bohemian artist-collective stance of Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground. At a glance, the entire project seemed more a retro-minded fashion show than anything else, its sartorial trimmings and sensationalist posturing being the only apparent additions to an already long-established sound. Only after I opted in for a spare ticket to see the Yeahs at the 9:30 Club in early naught-six was I forced to reevaluate my opinion. Which is not to say that my initial assessment was off the mark�the Yeahs� identity is as much visual as it is auditory, frontwoman Karen O�s haute punk wardrobe and guitarist/keyboardist Nick Zinner�s painstaking coif being primary examples thereof�but that I finally understood the Yeahs� appeal. Specifically, that Karen O is a powerful performer and a veritable post-punk diva, shrieking and crooning and bodily emphasizing every sex-drenched syllable and heart-wringing verse for the benefit of her appreciative audience, an effort in which she is duly aided by Zinner�s ringing riffs and drummer Brian Chase�s uncomplicated yet ever-apropos rhythms. Old hat though it may be, it�s a vivid and visceral combination that K-O & co. once again employ in their third full-length, It�s Blitz!, dishing out floor-filling crowd-pleasers before drifting into more intimate fare (and returning to rock once again). Dance and drink and screw (until there�s nothing left to do) to the likes of �Zero� and �Heads Will Roll�, come down with the complications and introspectiveness of �Soft Shock� and �Skeletons�, and rise back up with �Dull Life� and �Shame and Fortune�. Though stylish and stylized to a fault, there is a beating, bleeding heart �neath all the glitz and glam which the Yeahs are unafraid to lay bare. While it�s true that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs do not stray any further afield from their already well-worn post-punk path, they do prove that they�re more than fit to tread the same ground as their forebears, and that is no small feat. (!!!!!!!!!! 7/10)

Butcher Boy � React or Die
butcher-boy.co.uk
(April 2009, How Does It Feel to Be Loved?)

For lyric storytellers, a song is as much a mode of transportation as it is a storage medium. That is: the song serves as both a place where memories are kept and a means of bringing an individual to that place. Better yet, think of the song as a conjurer�s sigil, a combined portal/destination, in and through which one might channel the past, rousing both long- and nearly-departed ghosts with cognitive scraps, psychometric triggers, and imaginative turns of phrase�vague descriptions and fine details which bear more weight and power than their immaterial nature would otherwise suggest. Though neither Paracelsian nor Faustian in nature, Butcher Boy�s John Blain Hunt is, himself, an old hand at such poetic alchemy and sonic evocation, deftly transforming words and sounds into images and ideas and using them to summon emotions and memories from the places and persons we�ve all been but quite nearly forgotten. Performed in the same upbeat-yet-sombre chamber pop spirit as Belle and Sebastian and the Smiths, Butcher Boy�s React or Die layers its classical strings, guitars, piano, and percussion with subtlety and aplomb, skillfully supporting Hunt�s airy croons as they recount tales of lovers� spats and humdrum home life, of drunken kisses, trying friendships, and mental disquietude�everyday bits, bobs, trials and tribulations, all made lovely and precious in the mind�s eye. Like Profit in Your Poetry before it, React or Die lives off a steady diet of touchstones and sentimentality, its mental cupboards overflowing with random tschotchkes and scattered ephemera, baby teeth, buttons, seashells, postcards, and snapshots spilling out with each and every song. It�s a haunted album to be sure, but Hunt�s ghosts are often of the friendly variety, and React or Die is far more pleasant to live with than it is to exorcise. (!!!!!!!!!! 8/10)

The New Trust / Pteradon � Split 7�
thenewtrust.com | myspace.com/pteradonband
(April 2009, Silver Sprocket)

As noted in the premier edition of �In the Rotation�, vinyl singles are something of an odd duck in the era of the digital download�an anachronistic holdout from the days of Top 40 singles racks, monthly 7� subscription clubs, and unsigned bands with just enough scratch to put out a two-song 45rpm record. In this day and age, it seems far more cost-effective to simply self-record a track and release it through the usual for-free online venues (MySpace, YouTube, etc.) or go the professional route of studio time and $.99-a-pop iTunes/eMusic distro than to fiddle about with small supplies of an outdated medium. Sure, neither of the aforementioned modern options has the collector�s appeal of exclusive/limited-edition tangibility�let alone the snap-and-crackle warmth which is the crack-cocaine of audiophiledom and the merch table hockability of a physical record�but the limitless availability of digital media nevertheless translates into (the possibility of) a listening audience far and away greater than the mere 500- or 1000-copy pressings typical of most split-7��s. That said, I�m still a sucker for records that I can hold in my hand and, given that nothing motivates a buyer quite like rarity (that is: market scarcity), it�s not too surprising to hear that I jumped at the news of Pteradon�s split 7� with The New Trust like a caffeine-fueled commodities trader upon hearing reports about the Exxon Valdez. The New Trust end of the 7��comprised of �Wretched and Unwanted� and the darkly comedic �Ethan Hawke is a Dead Man��brought me right back to the late nineties/early naughties tradition of �emo�-tinged post-hardcore, a time of sludgy rhythms, echoing power chords, and adenoidal vocals emphatically waxing romantic and melodramatic about this or that. Entertaining, yeah, but still just an appetizer for what was, to me, the main course: Pteradon�s deep-throat growls, fist-pumping rhythms, hammer-heavy guitar tricks, and shout-along choruses, all laying waste to your ears with wave after unstoppable wave of pure rock goodness. That said, �Apeman� and �Z-Axis (You Want It, You Got It)� are just the tip of the Pteradon iceberg, but they are more than enough to get you excited for everything that hasn�t yet broached the surface. (!!!!!!!!!! 7/10)

Pele � A Scuttled Bender in a Watery Closet
myspace.com/pelethenudes
(April 2009, Polyvinyl Record Co.)

Ah, yes. Whenever a band or artist has a number of limited-release singles and short-run EPs, they are sure to one day have a retrospective and/or posthumous compilation comprised principally of those rarified recordings. Quite a different breed from the old-standard-harvesting �Best of� comps, rarity & B-side collections are explicitly designed to provide the listener with something that s/he most likely has not heard before, and to serve as a quick and easy way of shoring up the cracks in one�s collection. Such is the grab-bag-cum-completist spirit of Pele�s A Scuttled Bender in a Watery Closet�which, coincidentally (or not), dropped but four months after the fifth anniversary of the Milwaukeean experimental-instrumental outfit�s final live performance (in Tokyo, Japan, of all places). Moreover, given that primary Pele alums Jon Mueller and Chris Rosenau have since gone on to focus their attentions on the erstwhile side project Collections of Colonies of Bees, A Scuttled Bender in a Watery Closet serves as a condensed timeline of sorts, a two-disc highlight reel documenting Pele�s slow but steady transition from jazz-infused and electronics-augmented post-rock (as heard in �Blue Cecil�, �Apiary�, and �Gas the Nutsy�) to a far more outr� brand of computer-aided sound-finagling that has since become synonymous with Mueller and Rosenau�s work with Collections of Colonies of Bees (and, currently, with Volcano Choir). Fittingly, Pele�s transformation from a jazzy trio into an outfit of electronic sound-tweakers begins to take shape on disc two, which is comprised near-entirely of remix tracks by Mueller, Rosenau, and fellow Pele alum (and Bees associate) Jon Minor. Whereas the early Pele of disc one (c. 1998-2000) focuses on creating and constructing intricate compositions using live instruments in a live setting, the latter-day Pele of disc two (c. 2001-2003) experiments with taking those compositions apart, breaking them down into their constituent elements, and using Powerbooks and whatnot to rearrange the pieces into even more intricate patterns. Sure, the early permutations of this formula are a little rough on the ears (�Banana Pudding�, �Cigarette Papers�, and the Crouton No. 1 quartet especially), but, when heard in the context of A Scuttled Bender in a Watery Closet, Pele�s gradual metamorphosis into Collections of Colonies of Bees is a remarkably coherent and organic one, even if their methodology becomes increasingly fractured and digital. (!!!!!!!!! 8/10)

Double Dagger � MORE
posttypography.com/doubledagger
(May 2009, Thrill Jockey)

Looking back, naught-nine turned out to be quite the solid year for Double Dagger. The Baltimore-based post-punk trio signed on with Chicago�s Thrill Jockey, through which they released their third full-length album, MORE. They spent quite a bit of time touring the States�including a stint with the Baltimore Round Robin tour�and received a ton of positive press from a variety of sources (BBC, Rolling Stone, Aural States, AMG, City Paper, etc.). Hell, two of the band�s members even had the time to publish a book about typography, which makes sense given their fine arts backgrounds and extensive portfolio of professional design work under the moniker of Post Typography. Neat stuff, that. Granted, this biographical info is hardly news, particularly if you are a Baltimore native who is even remotely familiar with Double Dagger or its members, but it is important to understand (or, at the very least, be aware of) the trio�s long-standing creative-cultural connections with the Greatest City in America, particularly since said connections frequently fuel and inform their music. That being said/written, the modus operandi of Double Dagger is loud, raucous rock in the DC-hardcore vein, driven by the weighty percussion of Yukon alum Denny Bowen, emboldened by the mutative bass lines of Bruce Willen, and empowered by the emphatically sung-spoken-screamed mix of localized sociopolitical commentary and dour self-examination that issues forth from the mouth and mind of Nolen Strals. Topically, Double Dagger rocks and rages with anti-unilateralist sentiments in �No Allies�, muses on a lifelong death fixation in �Vivre Sans Temps Mort�, and rallies the class war casualties in �We are the Ones�. Then there are the empty consumer comforts of �Camouflage�, the anti-Manichean ambiguities of �The Lie/The Truth�, the everyday actors (�all the world�s a stage�, etc.) of �Surrealist Composition With Your Face�, and the nightly urban disquiet of �Helicopter Lullaby�. Rounding out the album, the ironic title and slow instrumental growth of �Neon Grey� fades into the down-and-out quarter-life crises of �Half-Life�, after which Double Dagger closes things out with the self-righteous solipsism of �Two-Way Mirror�. Add a smattering of harmonium and some intentionally lo-fi grit and grime to go along with the fist-pumping rhythms and anxious, anthemic shout-along vocal diatribes, and you have MORE in a nutshell. While often coarsely confrontational with their content and abrasively assertive in their presentation�never let it be said that Strals does not embrace the act of lyrical pontification�Double Dagger�s sly critiques are frequently as self-aware as they are outwardly-directed. It�s cutting, yeah, but MORE is better thought of as a therapeutic bloodletting than an attempt to kill. (!!!!!!!!!! 7/10)

Passion Pit � Manners
passionpitmusic.com
(May 2009, French Kiss)

Following hard upon their debut EP, Chunk of Change�so hard that it shares the radio- and commercial-friendly single �Sleepyhead��Passion Pit�s first full length release, Manners, attempts to prove that this Cambridge electro-pop quintet is anything but a one-hit wonder. Though you could easily argue that the jury is still out on that one, it does bear noting that Manners managed to make its way onto quite a few �Best of 2009� lists, with Passion Pit themselves logging over 300,000 unique listeners via Last.fm, as well as having the cojones to embark on a rather lengthy international tour in early 2010. That�s quite a bit of momentum for a relatively new band, and all because some nasal whinger with a laptop recorded a demo of love songs for his then-girlfriend. With that in mind�or out, the past is past, moving on and such�Passion Pit�s Manners is far more lovelorn than loving, its sad sack sentiments sitting in stark contrast with the album�s upbeat fa�ade. Even so, Passion Pit�s eminently danceable rhythms and shimmering synthetics (plus a smattering of guest instrumentals by the likes of Seth Jabour and Cale Parks) serve to offset lead singer Michael Angelakos�s woeful bleating and twee pity songs, effectively making light of his downer moods and helping him to rise above them. Or try to, at least�that seems to be the underlying theme of the album: Angelakos working to clear his head with post-break-up musings on life, death, love, and faith, as well as figuring out just how to deal with the sudden fame and potential fortune of his band�s burgeoning musical career. As singles like �The Reeling� plainly show, Manners is a melodramatic affair full to bursting with mixed metaphors pushed along by the dire immediacy of twenty-something angst, but its songs are never so forced (either preposterously overblown or dully pedestrian) that you feel as though Angelakos doesn�t fully believe in what he�s doing. Still, it will be interesting to see how Passion Pit fares through the coming year, and whether or not Angelakos & co. can both transcend the hype and translate their popular momentum into a sophomore album that�s actually worth its salt. (!!!!!!!!!! 6/10)

Phoenix � Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
wearephoenix.com
(May 2009, Loyaut� / Glassnote)

In all honesty, I find the popular and critical hoopla surrounding this Versailles foursome a bit difficult to understand, particularly in that Phoenix tends to come across as a French (yet willfully un-Francophonic) version of The Strokes� which is not to imply that one is necessarily imitating the other, only an acknowledgment that their source materials and general presentations are remarkably similar. Sveltely tailored looks, staccato guitar riffs, synth textures, punchy bass lines, unpretentious percussion, vocals meandering from quiet understatement to a more strident yelping�great if you can�t get enough of that sort of new-millennium New Wave meets Velvet Underground-ish garage-rock apery, meh-inducing if you�re looking for something a little more innovative. But it�s not as though Phoenix�s fourth studio offering, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, is a woefully lackluster album from a wholly untalented band. Hardly; lead singles �Lisztomania� and Cadillac-endorsing fan favourite �1901� have shown Thomas Mars, Deck D�Arcy, Laurent Brancowitz, and Christian Mazzalai to be worthy composers of catchy pop music, their gleaming hooks and alluring rhythms landing them a goodly number of admirers stateside. Nevertheless, Phoenix�s latest album is a disconcertingly shallow affair: absent the falsetto flourishes, ringing riffs, and danceable rhythms (that is: taken as unadorned poetry), the ten tracks of Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix are underwhelming bland and frequently nonsensical, their vaguely romantic and marginally reflective offerings cobbled together from awkward ESL couplets and un-idiomatic metaphors so confusing and/or mismatched that they regularly defy interpretation�which, in turn, leads me to believe that Phoenix�s pronounced Anglophonic shtick is all about appealing to a wider audience, and that conveying some sort of deeply personal sentiment or telling a coherent story through song is the furthest thing from their minds. Si vous pouvez parler, parler naturellement, non? Not that anyone has ever needed to be unique or intelligent (let alone genuinely artistic or intelligible) in order to sell a pop song, but you must admit that the results are so much better (and understandable) that way. (!!!!!!!!!! 4/10)

Classics of Love � Walking in Shadows EP
myspace.com/classicsofloveband
(June 2009, Asian Man)

As much as I am a fan of music�both as a creative act and as a packaged product�I have never, myself, wanted to be in a band. Blame it on performance anxiety, an admitted lack of talent, or whatever, but I was never one of those kids who dreamt of being on stage in some sacrosanct venue, singing and strumming in front of hundreds of screaming fans, let alone of touring the nation in support of one of my favourite bands. True, I�ve never wanted such things for myself, but I do understand their appeal. That, and it�s not too difficult to appreciate the surreality of actually being in a band, on tour, with a musician and songwriter you may very well have idolized as a teenager. Which is essentially the case with Classics of Love, a Californian punk outfit lead by elder statesman Jesse Michaels and backed by the twenty-something trio of Mike Huguenor, Morgan Herrell, and Max Feschbach, who also operate under the name Hard Girls. Considering the age difference between Michaels and his new bandmates (roughly 15 years), it�s pretty easy to think of Classics of Love as a sort of dream gig, a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a handful of relative unknowns to live out the childhood fantasy of performing and touring with a punk rock icon. To that effect, Classics of Love�s debut EP, Walking in Shadows, does an amazing job of channeling SoCal�s late-80�s punker soul: Michaels�s emphatically sung-shouted sociopolitical and -economic rants are well-matched by Feschbach and Herrell�s rhythmic runs and Huguenor�s bright riffs, plus full-band back-ups for the frequently anthemic choruses. It�s an old formula, sure�if you�ve ever listened to Operation Ivy or Common Rider, then you pretty much know what to expect�but Classics of Love�s obvious enthusiasm (as heard in title track �Walking in Shadows�) makes it all sound fresh and new. Not too shabby for an old soldier and a couple of young recruits, eh? (!!!!!!!!!! 6/10)

The Shitty Limits � Beware the Limits
myspace.com/theshittylimits
(June 2009, La Vida Es Un Mus / Sorry State / Boss Tuneage / Wallride)

Not to beat a dead horse�you would think that its remains had been pulverized and scattered to the four winds by now�but the music industry is in trouble. Album sales are way down, instances of �freeloading� (nods to TMT�s Chris Ruen) are ticking ever upward, and the RIAA is getting its East India Company on in a questionable effort to stem the tide. Then you have bands like The Shitty Limits, who, in order to increase their audience, have made their entire catalogue available online, free of charge, including their debut full-length, Beware the Limits. It�s a practice which first struck me as a bit odd, �til I remembered something that I had written in an installment of �Hip to the Groove�: that one possible future for the music industry would be an inversion of the present relationship between recorded material and live performances. Instead of tours being used to promote a physical album, bands would provide free downloads and sanctioned P2P file-sharing to drum up support in advance of their shows. Live performances would then become the main saleable good, with the tangible album being relegated to the position of a rarified collector�s item or merch-table memento. Seems that wasn�t so much prescient as presently accurate, at least with regards to the constantly-touring (nearly 200 gigs in less than three years), limited-pressing (CDs and LPs combined, only 3064 printed copies of Beware the Limits currently exist), album-uploading habits of The Shitty Limits. This is somewhat less surprising when you consider that The Shitty Limits is a hardcore/punk band, and that said sub-genre has a storied history of being resolutely non-commercial and reliably DIY. Not to mention a pronounced tendency towards raucous, participatory live performances, the frenzy and fury of which are just barely hinted at in Beware the Limits� brief twenty-three and a half minutes of rough-and-tumble rhythms, brightly blaring riffs, and sneering, shout-along vocals. In this sense, Beware the Limits is less an event in and of itself than it is an open invitation to one of The Shitty Limits� live shows�which, if the lo-fi likes of �Your Limits are My Limits� and �Hard Wired� are to be believed, are one hell of a good time�and reason enough to look forward to their next jaunt across the pond. (!!!!!!!!!! 6/10)

Finn Riggins � Vs. Wilderness
finnriggins.com
(October 2009, Tender Loving Empire)

If there is one thing about Finn Riggins that continues to impress me, it�s the Idahoan trio�s ability to create music that manages to appear off-the-cuff yet well-rehearsed, spontaneous yet highly refined. Theirs is a combination of unapologetically coarse pop-rock�snap-crackling-ly bright guitars riffs, sing-to-shout-along vocals, and punchy percussion that cannot help but invite clapping hands and stomping feet to join in on the fun�mixed with esoteric nuances like steel drums, off-time signatures, a wide variety of synth melodies, and various effects both choral and instrumental. That Eric Gilbert, Lisa Simpson, and Cameron Bouiss are technically apt is hard to deny; that they tour unceasingly is fairly well-documented; that Finn Riggins�s second full-length, Vs. Wilderness, is pretty effin� rad is but a matter of opinion. But it�s a pretty sound opinion on a pretty damn good album: Vs. Wilderness queues up with the light steel drum, eerie ambience, and modulated synth of �Rush of Animals (Prelude)� before cutting to the chase with the crunchy guitar, layered vocals, prog-ish keys and staid percussion of �Battle�. Next up, �Dali� gets a little more creative as Simpson�s skronking guitar plays off of her own vocal samples, Gilbert�s burbling keys, and Bouiss�s well-measured rhythms�all while Simpson�s lilting lead vox allude to a variety of works by famed surrealist Salvador Dal�. The trapping and trading of �Furs�, on the other hand, hearkens back to comically idealized frontier living of �Pannin� for Gold�, off of 2007�s A Soldier, A Saint, An Ocean Explorer. The calming yet crusty melodies of �Shaky� later give way to Vs. Wilderness�s lead single, �Wake�, which is one of the most out-and-out pop-rock tracks on the entire album with its upbeat percussion, ringing keys, blaring riffs, trade-off vox, and sing-along �whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-o-oh� back-ups. The likes of �Mahoney� and �Vs. Birds� keep to the more ethereal side of Finn Riggins, all overdriven guitar, affected keys, and flexible percussive fills (lyrics being near-entirely absent from the latter), while the two-part �Antoinette� tends to keep Simpson�s voice near-center, if not entirely up front. And, in a nice bit of sonic circularity, album-ending �Rush of Animals� reintroduces and builds upon the similarly-named prelude which kicked off the album. Though not immediately as captivating as A Soldier, A Saint�, Finn Riggins� Vs. Wilderness contains its fair share of memorable moments and pleasant surprises, and hints that this trio has more than a few tricks still tucked up their sleeves. Good on them. (!!!!!!!!!! 7/10)

Hard Girls � Hello EP
myspace.com/hardgirls
(October 2009, Quote Unquote Records)

Looking back, 2009 was a banner year for Hard Girls, both for the band as a whole and for its individual members. After releasing their first album in December 2008�a split CD on Silver Sprocket with fellow San Joseans The Albert Square�the Hard Girls trio of Morgan Herrell, Max Feschbach, and Mike Huguenor saddled up with Jesse Michaels�s Classics of Love to tour the US and the UK along with singer/songwriter and Asian Man Records owner/operator Mike Park. Mike H. also released an album with his other band, Shinobu; Morgan and Max released a split 7� (with The New Trust) with their other band, Pteradon; Mike, Morgan, Max and Jesse released Classics of Love�s debut EP on Asian Man; the three M�s dropped their own EP, Hello, on Quote Unquote Records just in time for a cross-country tour complete with a performance at Gainesville�s The Fest. Busy busy. All that aside, it�s best to think of Hard Girls as a synthesis of Shinobu and Pteradon�raucous guitar-rock riffs and narrative songwriting beefed up by punchy punker rhythms and shout-along choruses�with Mike and Morgan swapping lead and backup vocal duties while Max�s driving percussion keeps everything moving along at a comfortable speed. It�s quite the fast ride, too: clocking in at little under eighteen minutes, Hello�s seven tracks are collectively shorter than the five provided for the Gainful Clumps split with The Albert Square, but no less enjoyable. Morgan switches back and forth between slice-of-life sing-speaking and full-body shouting (as heard in �Shame Your Name� and �Quinceanera�), and his gruff approach is nicely complimented by Mike�s reservedly literary tone (as in �Evening Constitutional� and �Strange Carafe�). Though the two have very distinct singing styles, Mike and Morgan manage to strike an effective balance with �Lazer Parade��Morgan leading the way in and out with hearty yawps, Mike cooling it down with a reflective crooner core, Max deftly varying his tempos accordingly�and are never so contrary that Hard Girls sounds like two completely different bands smashed together, let alone two singers vying for the position of primary frontman. Rather, it�s one big bundle of San Josean goodness, and an excellent capstone for an auspicious year. Oh, and Hello is available to download (donations greatly appreciated!), so get on that. (!!!!!!!!!! 8/10)

Poetry : Coraz�n Corsage by Jared T. Fischer

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 01:08:25 -0500

In white impossible halfway house,
goodbye, scratch long lost love.
White mice, black rat dash and echo every hour
in this white inhuman asylum of souls, holed up in heaven,
without angels, undying, cold and numb.
There�s a daydream. There�s high school. You and me.
There we hang out, hang on, hang . . . .
Our happy fix loves us more than we teens can love each other.
There�s hope roped around outsider hearts,
white arms clasped, fears choked fast:
dragged, drugged in each mouse, a coraz�n corsage
of courage for red fur freedoms of needle and blood.
Followers be thy son and daughter!
Our contemporaneous ecstasies pink into white.

Prose : SiCore: A Look Back by Kim Tabara

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 23:06:46 -0500

I

�WE R RILLY NT INTRSTED IN WHT NRMS THINK. I WAS UP THR ROFL IN MY MIND. TNSION = PAYNE. PAYNE= LYFE. LOL.� � WX YZ

In retrospect, it seems obvious that the SiCore movement would have occurred, especially in the context of the various trends and concerns of the music underground of the first decade of the twenty-first century. Although it now seems obvious that someone could hijack a plane and crash it into a landmark, we must never forget the initial impact and shock of this event on a global scale. Was last year�s performance at the MTV music awards by Murmur of Wounds the 9/11 of the SiCore scene?

As the videos on Youtube and other social networking sites attest, the performance was indeed shocking. The four �musicians� of the group (GHI JKL on �guitar,� LMN OPQ on �bass,� and RST UVW on �drums,� WX YZ on �synths�) stood on stage, instruments at the ready, for three minutes and thirty three seconds. They appeared on the verge of beginning a song, clenched up over their respective instruments, lead singer ABC DEF staring out at the crowd, on the verge of singing something, saying something, doing anything.

As time passed, the crowd�s reaction varied as the tension did indeed build. After the initial applause at the band�s introduction, nothing seemed to happen. The SiCore fans were bunched in the front, their colorful outfits bearing the unmistakable mark of the scene. Behind them, the confused audience talked among themselves. Occasionally, someone in the audience whistled or broke out in a mock �wooooo!,� which was greeted by nervous laughter by the audience.

�I can�t understand why our scene is not respected or understood,� commented lead singer ABC DEF via notes scribbled on discarded fast food containers and left on park benches and dark alleyways. �Sometimes in life it is hard to know what to say. Sometimes the silence is better than what could be said. There is something there, and that something is nothing.�

SiCore, perhaps one of the most controversial and debated musical genres since Korecore, created a big quiet wave this past year in the popular music landscape. As one of the first to stumble upon this new brand in its infancy, I have since felt a degree of responsibility to check in on it from time to time. Yes, we may all have moved on to better and brighter things (like Brightcore), but the devotees of SiCore continue to make their presence felt in the larger underground scene.

II

�There could be something going on here! It may be important! Keep an eye on the �SiCore� Google analytics, guys!�- Jimmy Iovine, Interscope Records Internal Memo

The year was 2008. I approached the Black Hole Rock Club around dusk. The forwarded e-vite had indicated that the show would start �when the last gleaming ember of light fades.� I found such a start-time to be a bit hard to nail down, and I was worried I was running late.

I assumed that I wasn�t missing much, as there were no loud rock thuds emanating from the club, the siren song of my lifestyle and profession. I did all the usual check-ins, ID at the ready, press pass in hand. I was checking out this show as a favor to a friend and hadn�t had time to do any research on the bands (Murmur of Wounds, Nil Mil, Sadness Fades), but the names seemed to indicate maybe black metal, gothwave, coldwave, sadcore� I was open to what the evening held, as I have a broad and distinguished taste in music.

I had noticed that the security guards and others were eyeing me up a little bit. As I pride myself in being neutrally dressed whenever on assignment, this surprised me. As I stumbled into the main room, I could see why. I stood out in my neutrality.

The throng gathered in the room was dressed in some of the strangest and ridiculous ways I have yet encountered in my many travels through the three rings of the rock and roll circus. The standard mode was Halloween-inspired, but only if Halloween happened on some other planet. Young men dressed in ruffled food-stained finery, entire miniature Christmas trees worn as hairpieces. Young women wrapped in garish Styrofoam containers, Thermos coolers stripped into pieces and repurposed as blouses and skirts. It was a sea of incongruous extremity. My black cap, khakis and t-shirt were clearly not the norm.

But however loudly their attire spoke, they said nothing. All were standing in orderly rows, facing the stage. Each was doing their best to ignore the other, the occasional glimpse down at an incoming text the only sign of life. As I took it all in on my way to the bar, I was struck by the vastness of the quietude. There was no house music on the PA, no chatter among those gathered. As I stumbled over a youth dressed entirely in fused-together Gatorade bottles, I excused myself.

For the first time, the concert-goers were aware of my presence. Many in my immediate vicinity shot me the stink-eye. A few made the �sssshing� sign without making the sound. Hands bearing Sidekicks shot up to chest-lever, fingers flying furiously over keypads.

III

�He used to say things under his breath, but he quit that.� � David Jenkins

David Jenkins, 45, of Timonium, has become concerned about his son Darby�s involvement in the SiCore lifestyle.

�I mean, I don�t know what to think. All he does is sit in his room with his stereo on. He will just sort of slump there at stare at all those weird posters he�s got, zoning out and noddin� his head. But the thing is� I can�t hear anything! I mean, my parents used to tell me to turn down my rock and roll, you know? Now I want to tell him to turn it up!�

What is it that Darby Jenkins is hearing? Is there anything on these SiCore recordings to hear, really? Murmur of Wounds� most recent release, When It is Clear that This is the End�, which clocks in at exactly sixty minutes, was released with elaborate deluxe packaging by WEA Universal MCA earlier this year. Each CD came with a hand-carved miniature coffee table. The LP version pressed on clear vinyl, the silence broken up over four sides, fifteen minutes each.

�Whn I listn 2 SK, I can hr myslf,� claims Darby via Facebook chat. This is his preferred method of communication.

�He hasn�t spoken to me or anyone else in the family for months now,� says David. �He used to say things under his breath, but he quit that. We�re getting real worried he�s got a disease or something.�

�th nly dis-ease I have is xD @ this so-Si-it-ee.� Darby seems adamant on this point, following this chat with a combination of exclamation marks and emoticons which I did not fully understand.

IV

�Q: What�s the best part about beating up a SiMo? A: No matter how hard you hit�em, you never hear have to hear �em scream!�- joke posted on the Google group IH8SIMOS

As we all know, the music lifestyle brand has become the one with the shortest shelf-date. Today�s buzzband becomes tomorrow�s has-been with a blinding rate of turnover. In breaking as big as it did, SiCore had little chance to develop. The fact that the music was so easy to make lead to many imitators and replicators, the most notorious of which being the group 4�33.

Of course, it is impossible to discuss the band without noticing the knowing wink to John Cage inherent in their choice of name. This sort of joke is unfortunate, as it sullies the reputation of a true master of modern music, a man whose genius the average SiCore fan can barely comprehend. It is interesting to note, however, that John Cage recordings have become increasingly popular due to this connection. At one point, his recording of �4�33:I- Tacet� was a top ten download on iTunes.

To bring up 4�33 on the many message boards and Google groups associated with the scene is to lead to many a frowny-face emoticon. Some claim that 4�33 was created and formed by the major labels, others question their integrity. A source of continual and almost universal disdain would be �the clap.�
At the exact center of the forty-three minutes and three seconds of the silence which comprises 4�33�s debut album, Enjoi (Interscope), there is a single hand clap. This clap, heard �round the SiCore world, has lit up their cyber-community, leading several to call for their banishment from the scene. Their name became a trending topic on Twitter shortly after the release of the album, the band name often being featured in Tweets wondering why they were a trending topic.

�4�33?  bullshit.  sellout.� says Murmur of Wounds� GHI JKL, his preferred method of communication being wing-dings punctuated by words sent in letters by certified mail.

Sadly, the members of 4�33 have taken SiCore as a complete lifestyle vow, and do not communicate with the press. According to their Interscope publicist, they live communally in a cave in the Swiss Alps, sending their master tapes and ornate album artwork to a contact in the town of Murten, who then forwards the materials along to the label. Since the group has only performed a handful of times and all band photographs are abstract blurs, some doubt that the band exists at all.

V

�When listening to a SiCore album these days, it�s hard to hear what everyone was so excited about in the first place.� � Hester Arrington, Scene Report, www.musicisstupid.com

SiCore has gone through the usual cycle: the hot new thing on the rise, the big brand breakthrough into a full market penetration followed by the fall from grace, all without the benefit of a single note to hear or a single lyric to decipher. Album art, clothing choices, and lifestyle branding proved to be ample topics for discussion in its stead.

The major record labels could not have been happier with the movement. Concern was placed on the elaborate packaging that the members of the scene preferred. This jacked up the retail price, and putting out multiple limited editions of each release and applying the appropriate �invisible hand� of marketing push became the main concern. There were no album leaks to worry about, no files of consequence to be traded. The labels knew how to market brands, and SiCore was a market quietly waiting to happen.

My august brethren in music criticism had little trouble handling SiCore, since their reviews had long ago shifted away from discussion of music and song lyrics. Most reviews focused instead on scene politics, blog buzz, geographic distinctions, and other such topics of discourse. One famous series, written by Carles Huntington and published on his blog MUSICDURRDURR, involved listening to various SiCore releases in different settings, rating each based on how one�s impressions of the environment were affected. He gave great praise to Nil Mil�s I Feel Violent, I Feel Alone album (Wind-Up Records), but only when listened to in an abandoned and decaying sawmill (the cryptic cover art for this masterwork of the movement, created by artist Alex Worthington, accompanies this piece and is available in a higher resolution here).

The shift from positive to negative among the critics was perhaps aided and abetted by the lack of music or lyrics, providing an obvious bone of contention when the time came. The usual contrarian hipsters began their field day with SiCore shortly after Murmur of Wounds� appearance on the MTV Video Music Awards, early adopters disavowing enthusiasm, knives out as the tide turned.

So what now for �SiMos�, as some call the fans of this musical brand? From the watershed of this past year, the practitioners and fans are clearly heading in different directions, factionalizing and subgenreing at the blinding pace of the modern age.

�We don�t need a label 2 du this,� says Wiglaf Unfurth, the mastermind of Nil Mil via ICQ , an instant message service preferred by Canadians. �I can Si-OUT all bi mysslf.�

Wiglaf represents the first wave of what is being dubbed �Alonecore�, a musical and cultural subset of SiCore in which participants sit in their rooms alone all the time and don�t do anything.

Others have adopted a more guerrilla approach, throwing shows in warehouse spaces which are sparsely advertised outside of the inner sanctum of the scene. The shows occur in complete darkness, their fact of existence rarely stumbled upon. There are apocryphal accounts of someone stumbling into such an event and being �scared to death� by the sudden appearance of so many silent, gaudily dressed people after flipping on a warehouse light switch, but this legend remains unconfirmed.

Others have decided to �norm out,� becoming completely normal people in all respects, holding jobs and starting families and shunning all the former trappings of the movement. When questioned, they often reply that they are still �silent inside,� but many in the community believe that they were the usual posers following a trend.

There is no doubt that SiCore was the most important musical movement of the twenty-first century, at least in terms of the past few months. It was the first time that that age-old accusation could be answered with great confidence.

Q: I thought it was supposed to be about the music, man�
A: �

Poetry : Repetitions by Anna Louise!

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 15:36:19 -0500

It was just a fine day of bird songs
that chime with the ray of sun, bush by bush--
the fresh leaves and prinklings from young spring.

Perched by a path of dust and soil,
I am just like the dust that is placed here. Once I shed my skin
to the root of earth my arm is new, my blood is new, my flesh is new�
my heart�s still the same.

I am like the fruit that once was hung,
now all that I really am is just a pit covered in mounds of flesh.
The air wears me the way rich girls wear gold rings. The ground laced with bits
of me, it knows how to love. It loves like wolves blood-thirst for a fresh
kill of meat, cold slung in between their teeth.

Time passed like a slow train and I am still on the same track,
same place, same lights that still mean go.
Years pass with the same bird songs, the same chime from the cool winds,
but one day I will leave this place just to reach the sun.

Features : Stick the Needle Into My Brain #2 by Mike Riley

Thu, 14 Jan 2010 21:28:16 -0500

A fresh batch of tunes for a fresh year...

Eddy Current Suppression Ring - s/t - Goner Records
(www.goner-records.com)

If you've got your ear to the ground of international garage punk/rock n roll then you're probably already well aware of this Australian band's seemingly spontaneous explosion into the ears and minds of garage/punk fans world-wide. Their 2nd LP, "Primary Colours", was released, also by Goner Records, to some seriously high acclaim to American audiences in 2008 and for good reason, as it is lo-fi Stooges-meets-the-Saints worship perfected. Here we have a re-issue of their debut LP, which until now had only been released in Australia and has been long out of print. Their story is an interesting one: the singer and guitar player were co-workers at a vinyl pressing plant in Melbourne, along with the guitar player's brother they downed a few too many at the company Christmas party and decided to pick up the instruments lying around and started banging away. They liked what they'd come up with so much they grabbed a boom box, recorded their songs, and decided to call it band. Six years later and they're still going strong, with another album on the way in the near future. This record is a look into their slightly-better-than-primitive beginnings with 11 tracks of simple rock n roll with that spirit that bands like Jet and The Strokes endlessly but unsuccessfully try to emulate. If you're a little unsure about it all, start with "Primary Colours", it's a fantastic album, and then if you find yourself digging it, head to your local record store and pick this debut LP up for a fulfilling look into the band's not-too-distant past.

Failures' Union - In What Way - Paper & Plastick Records
(www.paperandplastick.com)

There's a steadily growing stream of bands these days made up of former loud/fast hardcore punk kids finding inspiration in the college rock of the late 80s and early-to-mid 90s that may have first sparked their interest in music as young teens or that they have since discovered upon reaching out into the vast sea of music that the originators of the music they once held so dear to their hearts began creating after they themselves started looking for something more than the often-times formulaic music they'd been creating. Bands like Tenement, Sleepwall, Lemuria, Cheap Girls, and Sick Sick Birds, among others, have recently been reaching into the wells of bands like Husker Du, Sugar, Gin Blossoms, the Pixies, the Cure, Superchunk, Archers of Loaf, and Sub Pop-era Nirvana for refreshing inspiration and creating something far from retro or rehashed. Buffalo's Failure's Union can be found amongst those kindred spirits creating a refreshing take on a that now-classic sound (including guest vocals by Frente's Angie Hart on a couple tunes here). Earnest and honest lyrics and vocals accompany solidly mid-tempo rock songs free of pretentiousness or swagger. There's little flair here but the tunes have pleasant hooks and just enough pep to keep the lulls away. If your Guided By Voices and Pavement records are gathering dust on shelves, but the thought of popping them back in the stereo brings up fond memories, you'll be just as happy tying the Failures' Union's new album to new memories of the 20teens.

Mean Jeans - Are You Serious? - Dirtnap Records
(www.dirtnaprecs.com)

I'm preparing myself for cries of heresy from the purists, but fuck it, Mean Jeans are in prime position to become the 21st century Ramones. There, I said it. If the Ramones were born in 1984, came of age in Portland, fell in love instantly with the Exploding Hearts and the Marked Men, and raged with the beer-fueled punks and coked-out hipsters at the local rock bar, this is what they'd sound like. They take that classic Ramones sound of catchy revved-up rock and roll and rev it up even more while singing about girls, parties, coke, weed, pizza, beer, and rock and roll in the least corny way / most fun way possible, with "whoa-ohs" aplenty. The opener, "Born On a Saturday", sets the tone with an explanation on being born to party. The complete lyrics to "Outta Smokes" sums it all up well:

I just ran outta smokes, with a nose that's fulla cokes
and a belly that's fulla beer, gotta be another cigarette around here
there's gotta be a reason to be livin' 'round here
there's gotta be an extra piece of pizza around here somewhere

"Case Race" is a tune about sharing a case with a pretty girl and doing nothing but sitting at home listening to records. The closer, "Let's Pogo Before U Gogo"...well, the title pretty much says it all. I'm glad I got this record before I finalized my top ten records of 2009 because this one shot up there in record time. I may be straightedge, but I can recognize the fun of a good party album full of booze and drug references. With names like Jeans Wilder, Billy Jeans, and Howie Doodat, how can you go wrong? This one's a keeper for sure.

The Spits - IV - Recess Records
(www.recessrecords.com)

For the past five years or so Seattle's The Spits have remained an enigma to me. Praise upon praise has been heaped upon them by many, but until now, I just couldn't see why. For whatever reason, I just didn't "get it". I do now, and now I can go back and fully appreciate their previous work. The Spits write music for the worlds existing in 70s/80s B- and C-movies. They're all dark, twisted, warped, fuzzed-out, and low-budget in the best possible way. This is no Misfits rip-off though. It's a bit more Ramones / Mummies / Nuggets comps influenced. They're on their own high-school outcast smoking scarce bong-resin / chewing on miscellaneous pills while reading sci-fi and horror comics in the woods trip and having a blast doing it. This is music for the post-apocalyptic dweeb trying to figure out how to build bombs out of nail polish, hair spray, and turpentine. Dig it, but don't scorch your eyebrows off in the process.

Strike Anywhere - Iron Front - Bridge 9 Records
(www.bridge9.com)

Generally speaking, when hardcore/punk bands reach the peaks of popularity and acclaim in the underground through releases on the scene's most popular labels, it's done so through attaining a bit more of an accessible sound. The kids who don't dare to reach much deeper than their local Hot Topic for their musical experiences are stoked as they find these bands a bit more edgy than what modern rock radio is feeding them, but the old original fans can't help but feel a bit betrayed. The song-writing and passion behind it may be as solid as ever, but the over-produced and under-inspired tunes just lack that energy that makes authentic punk rock so vital. It almost never happens that a band can go on to produce new material as rich as their earlier work. Strike Anywhere have accomplished that in spades with their new album. It's as refreshing, inspired, thoughtful, and energetic as anything they've ever done before. Maybe even more so. The songs are as crushing as they are melodic and exhilarating. As a lyricist myself, I continually struggle with finding new ways to tackle old topics, therefore I am extremely impressed and amazed with Thomas's ability to continually breathe new life into social and political criticism through his lyrics. He's truly at the top of his game here. The positivity he evokes is never tainted with naivety. He's been doing this for long enough and truly believes in what he's singing and screaming about. This is about as high-energy and fun, while staying true to punk's socially relevant nature, as a band can get. If you're an old fan who maybe wrote them off as opportunists after "Exit English" and "Dead FM", please do yourself a favor and get re-inspired all over again by going out and picking this up immediately. If you're new to the band and curious, this is as essential a place to start as "Chorus of One" or "Change Is A Sound"' is. Bravo Strike Anywhere.

Tubers - Anachronous - No Idea Records
(www.noidearecords.com)

I'm not too well-versed in my late 90s/early 2000s post-hardcore, but what I'm hearing from Florida's Tubers is a hearty, heaping helping of the sound of the northern Virginia / Lovitt Records scene of that era and bands like Frodus, Sleepytime Trio, and Engine Down, who were all to some extent inspired by Rites of Spring and Fugazi, so there's hints of them in there as well, along with touches of Drive Like Jehu. Angular, arrhythmic, disjointed, at-times cacophonous...all well-fitting descriptions here. It's not the most original take on the sound but Tubers do it well and if any of the aforementioned bands are your cup of tea then you'll certainly find no wrong-doing here.

Features : Researching and Digging The Sky Drops by Jared T. Fischer

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 13:15:49 -0500

As of late, I have been stumbling around, not really uncovering or experiencing new music. I have been researching the 60s, 70s and 80s. You know, I got into the Canterbury scene. I also spent time with other manifestations of the avant-garde, and progressive psychedelic pop and rock were pleasures to my brain.

I hung on to British and Scottish post punk (though I hate �post� as a descriptor) and new wave, and unwound to the simple graces of American �on the periphery of art school� happenings in underground music of the late 60s and 70s.

But somewhere in the now, associated with a sound slightly reaching back to the earlier 2000s and 90s, I kept hearing the name The Sky Drops�it was a buzz here locally about a Delaware duo who had played shows with Thrushes and others, and who will play the Metro Gallery this Saturday, December 5th with Goldbug and Dead Leaf Echo.

I didn�t know the music and had not seen them play. But I was just as willing to do a little research in their direction to see what they had in store.

Listening to �Swimming with Fishes� from their album Bourgeois Beat, I was able to pick up on their ability to handle sadder, swooning pop songs kind of like early Sloan. The guitar jangled and glistened through a little leaf-dropping softness (a mirror ball stalling time with appropriately simple, wistful drums). In the mood of this song, which readily produced associative visuals, I saw prom kids taking in their first time capsule dances, having cake and punch, and glowing dramatically from a futurity of young rock, �shoegazing stuff,� with roots in some troubadour tradition from the days of castles and also the sun-shining cultural endowments of the African continent. I thought of algae moving in underwater slowness before the distortions of the song came in to crash waves on a chorus-like surge. The vocals were pretty, mostly charming and masculine, with a tender, harmonic support from the female. I didn�t analyze the lyrics for depth, but what came through most clearly was not dull by any means.

�Green to Red,� found on The Sky Drops� EP Clouds of People, was a little less developed in its vocal hooks, but the melancholy guitar fuzz still promoted a welcome lunar pulse of romance. Did the song suggest disillusionment? I felt like this song could support a cinematic moment, something in an independent film where a couple walks off in separate directions, down different streets, thinking about the fight that might have just ended their rocky love. Whatever, the lyrics even kind of supported that notion, and it made the song dramatic and strong enough to earn a second visit to my ears. The music was played very passionately here. The lyrics kept up a human, down to earth vibe, simple, easy to grasp�but not too poetic.

When I dug their music, I had some questions, and fortunately I was able to ask those questions to The Sky Drops members Rob Montejo and Monika Bullette.

What were you going for in the creation of your debut record Bourgeois Beat? How did the approach differ from your live shows?

We wanted to do the best for the songs while not over-stuffing them. We did put �The Bedazzler� to some songs, but we generally keep things simple. The result is not far off from the live show.

With existing or nonexistent terms, classify your music as you see it and as you think your public sees it.

Gaze-grunge.

What is your relationship to music videos? How fun and weird is it making them?

We enjoy making the videos and have been really happy with the results.
We�ve been lucky to work with some generous and thrifty and talented people! We definitely drew some stares running around the motel in Atlantic City.

See the new video for �Stone White"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vuI8mWzRXk

See the new video for "Truth Is"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nd3DaRf8gI

How far are you planning to go with touring this material at this time?

We have a Pacific Northwest tour in a week. We have plans to tour the UK in 2010, and we�ll be hitting the road in the US. The album was released in the UK in October on Spoilt Victorian Child Records. The CD is being distributed throughout the UK and Europe and Japan. Of course, the Internet brings it worldwide. Who knows, we may end up in Brazil�we have quite a following there.

Who do you align yourself with artistically among your contemporaries? By chance, are you and other artists making some kind of a movement or statement, or do you fly solo?

We are not in a tribe, but we�ve played some great shows with Thrushes and Screen Vinyl Image.

Talk about your band dynamics. Is it peaceful writing music together, or are there some fruitful fights along the way?

Anything worth doing is worth fighting over.

What are some of your shows after your Baltimore show at the Metro Gallery on Saturday, December 5th? Where can people get your albums and stuff?

12/10 - Seattle, WA
12/11 - Portland, OR
12/12 - Olympia, WA
1/8 - Philadelphia, PA
1/15 - Wilmington, DE
1/16 - Virginia Beach, VA
1/17-1/23 - Southern Tour Dates - www.theskydrops.com/tour.htm

You can purchase Bourgeois Beat at www.theskydrops.com and from any digital distributor like iTunes, Rhapsody, lala, Napster, Amazon, etc.

Video Reviews : It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE. by Crispin Glover, David Brothers

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 23:59:04 -0500

Crispin Glover seems to have this love of old-fashioned difficulty in his aesthetic and behavior--I'm thinking back to a time when I knew a keen frustration as a child without cable television, asked if I'd seen the video to Thriller or something like that. . . or no, I'm thinking back even further to a time before my life when my friendships held strong by email would have been maintained solely as physical epistolary relationships. . . or even further back, when people thought it was hot shit to get an orange for Christmas. Imagine making that orange last all year, like that little scrap kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I digress.

To see It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE., effectually, Crispin Glover in all his beautiful, awkward-fierce-chair-pose glory must be present. I deduce the reasons for this from the following information he gave the audience after he screened It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE.:
1. The gorgeous movies he's making these days are shot on film, a now unusual medium which is difficult and expensive to develop.
2. He funds his films himself, which is an expensive and incredible labor of love, but grants him utmost creative control. He is working for no greater company.
3. By charging $20 a seat to view his films, he hopes to recoup some of his financial losses.
4. He wishes to address any issues or frustrations people may have with the content or subject matter of his films, in an informal question-and-answer session after the screening. Such care; such love is put into the product and its presentation. The creative/destructive artistic process of making a product and then promoting it is alleviated by his increased communication with his cultural consumers. Glover is not in his gorgeous silk pyjamas at home, drinking Turkish coffee from a Faberg� egg, reading reviews on the internet--rather, he's asking us as an audience to relate what we've just processed, right away, after the screening. What an incredible treat, all for $20! How much are movies these days, like $12 or something like that?

So basically, since it's really, really difficult to see It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE., I'll do a quick plot synopsis, which is not my custom, and if you don't like SPOILERS, don't read this paragraph:
The film starts with footage of people in wheelchairs of varying ages, though mostly older than middle aged, in hospital-like setting (i.e. nursing home/hospital/whatever)--one of these people is on the floor; a man who has fallen out of his wheelchair and has difficulty speaking conventionally coherently. This man, Steven C. Stewart, has an extreme case of cerebral palsy, and has difficulty with the simple and fluid movements to which those of us not affected by CP are so accustomed. He cannot get back into the chair and is calling for help. Next, we see him at some sort of dance or event, and, despite the fact his speech is difficult for many to understand, he strikes up a candid conversation with a post-conventionally-attractive-but-still-got-something woman. They go on dates and become close, but not intimate, until he eventually kills her when she denies his request for marriage. Then he gets seduced by her late-teenage daughter, who he also kills (and you get your first glimpse at his wiener), and a bunch of other women, all of whom he kills as well, and then there is a grand climax where you see his penis going blatantly into this beautiful woman's vagina--and then he kills that girl too, creatively, and has some weird fantasy about riding his wheelchair up a mountain, holding onto a woman's beautiful long hair. She cuts her hair off and he falls down the mountain. There's more, but I've said too much already!!! Hair issues especially. This picture is pertinent: http://www.tate.org.uk/liverpool/exhibitions/kelley/images/ubermens.jpg

There are boring and expected questions that come with this movie, that thankfully Glover cleared up without anyone needing to ask (mostly)--like, is this exploitative of Stewart's condition? No, because Steven C. Stewart, wrongfully hospitalized at 20 years of age and barred from leaving, wrote the script in which he acted. It was his choice to show his wiener. Does Stewart hate women, because he's always killing them in his movie? No, Stewart (who died a month after they finished filming) wrote a disclaimer saying that he didn't hate woman or want to kill them--that part of the movie is exactly that: part of a fictitious movie, meant for entertainment more than as a self-exploration exercise. Is this movie a commentary on people with CP? Of course not--CP is so common and such a varied condition that it would be like saying Gone With the Wind is about women just because there's a female protagonist. Did Stewart actually put his penis in an actual vagina on film, or were those body doubles? Hell yeah, dude put his penis in an actual vagina! It was on point!!!

It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE. was a real treat to watch, so beautifully shot, so well acted, and so so so INTERESTING. Such a treat. Glover killed it and everyone's got to see his next movie It Is Mine. I feel like I get so bored in movies these days--perhaps you've read me bitching about that (I'm thinking of Kevin Smith). It is fine! EVERYTHING IS FINE. was not a movie to get bored in. I even saw some people walk out during the penis-rawdog-in-pretty-lady's-vagina scene!!! John Waters was in the audience, and everyone kept calling him out--first Glover, who was gushing about what a treat it was that he was there and what an incredible lunch the two had together, and then some dude burned him by standing up and announcing that Glover's film made Waters' early work pale in comparison--but my favorite question was asked by a notorious and wild-eyed man who wanted to know what was up with the ultra-hermetic screening and promotion styles, and wouldn't he get more viewers if he just let these obscure films leak to the internet--or at least show them in theaters? This was an epic conversation bubbling up--the whole should-creative-product-be-free-and-available-to-all versus should-the-creators-be-paid-handsomely-for-the-fruits-of-their-labors--that Glover smashed down right away, tooth-to-sweet. He is so much of an older era, when creators were used to making money off their work, maybe through royalties or contracts or money from production companies or whatever, and he truly believes illegal downloading killed the record industry. Here I have a mental picture of Crispin Glover and Trent Reznor (another vocal proponent of anti-piracy laws) on a sloop, slooping. Sloop sloop slooping. Alonggggg. Singing songs, maybe?

I like good people to win lots of money for the cool things they make, but I have expected them to get it like I expect the government to do nice things for everybody. Let's never hold our breath and let's sloop sloop sloop along onto the internet and all become robots and cyborgs with portable connections to the datasphere and all our self-cataloguing that lies therein. I'm serious as cancer. It's just a shame Crispin Glover and Trent Reznor and Madonna all these amazing witches and wizards from their generation have to eat, huh? Days like these, it behooves you to be crafty for money, not just creative.