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(08/29/05 5:25am)
Fifty-one percent of America's total population is female -- a five million-person difference between the sexes. Yet women in Congress comprise only 15 percent of the legislative body's 535 members. Members of the Monroe County Democratic Women's Caucus say it doesn't have to stay that way.\nThe caucus invited the first woman and first black person Indiana's Seventh District had ever elected to Congress, U.S. Rep. Julia Carson, to speak Friday at the group's Women's Equality Day benefit dinner at Phi Delta Kappa International Inc. The dinner recognized the 85th anniversary of women's suffrage, \n"(The Women's Caucus) stalked me to the point and hung around my door -- yes, they lobbied at my door -- so, I came," said Carson, who has served in the House since 1997. "And it was very gracious of them to have me."\nState Sen. Vi Simpson, D-Bloomington, introduced Carson to an audience roughly four-fifths female. Simpson spoke to Carson's courage as Indiana's only black female in Congress.\nCarson took the podium following a performance given by WomenSpeak. An emotional skit outlined famous speeches from America's first suffragists. The group highlighted famous women associated with suffrage, both past and present.\n"Hopefully Carson was inspired by what we read with WomenSpeak and (the speech) encourages women to follow in her footsteps and run for Congress," said Regina Moore, Bloomington city clerk and chair of the caucus.\nCarson conveyed what she saw as the current state of women in politics and society.\n"We still have major economic problems with women," she said. "Women and equality is like an impossible dream, like that song from 'Man of La Mancha.'"\nCarson criticized the policies of the current Bush administration, which she deemed as "not particularly friendly" to women's issues or to minorities. She also fired verbal shots at Christian media guru Pat Robertson, who recently gained national attention for calling for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. \nCarson wasn't finished with her ideological adversaries. She accused President George W. Bush of preying on the emotionalism of Americans. \n"We got leaders who have messed up America's reputation," she said. "They should just leave people alone and stop meddling."\nShe also took care to mention that not all women politicians make women's rights their main priority.\nIn the end, Carson seemed tempted to let history speak for itself.\n"I'm going to close," she concluded. "I had a speech for y'all, but yours was so good, how am I going to follow that? How am I going to follow Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott and them?\n"It took 144 years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence ... for women to gain suffrage in 1920 because of the Constitution's usage of the single word 'male.'"\nWomenSpeak reader Rachel Kearney recalled her family's suffrage history. \n"My mother was 17 years old when the 19th Amendment was ratified," she said. "Even though she was too young to vote yet, it changed her way of thinking. She felt empowered. Before, her husband spoke for her. Her father had always spoken for her. Finally, she spoke for herself"
(08/26/05 6:33am)
Joel Hernandez, a junior transfer, was all smiles as he passed out fliers at a booth in front of the IU Auditorium Thursday. He is new to IU, yet he was already under a tent.\n"I'm experiencing college for the first time from a small community college," the La Casa volunteer said. "Seeing people come and go, it's great."\nHernandez was one of many volunteers at the sixth annual CultureFest, a food and information party that encourages a diverse climate. The festival included performances by the IU Swing Club, the Chinese Yo-Yo Club and the Cosa Fin'e Irish Dancers.\nHernandez said he's noticed people from different backgrounds coming and going to get to know Hispanic culture, at the festival and at La Casa on other days.\n"There's actually a Hispanic community here and places cater to the Hispanic community which I love," he said as catered to students with their eyes on La Casa's Peruvian entrée, made of chicken and rice.\nFreshman Alfons Eggink said he enjoyed the diverse entertainment at CultureFest, especially the Cosa Fin'e "Fiery Feet" Irish Dancers. But while he was up for branching out, a more recognizable feast of the ears was equally enticing.\nEarlier, a packed IU Auditorium watched as junior Patricia Mota and a friend opened festivities with a traditional Aztec Dance from Mexico.\n"It felt like I was having people wonder, saying what's going on?" said Mota between serving hungry students. "The first part was a sign of giving thanks and the second half was about celebration of life."\nMota opened for Kevin Wanzer, public speaker and Butler University graduate, who was invited back to speak at this year's CultureFest. Wanzer congratulated IU and the festival-goers as delightfully abnormal. After noting that children only have two fears at birth -- fear of falling and of loud noises -- Wanzer asked what are the events in that we've construed as being negative, using the example of his 3-legged dog.\n"I used to have a three-legged dog, and small children don't realize a leg's gone or anything's a matter," said Wanzer, who used to work for "The Late Show with David Letterman." "'What's different about him,' I'd ask the kid, and he'd guess, 'He likes cat food?' 'Isn't he different, though?' 'No, he's a three-legged dog. Three-legged dogs are supposed to have three legs.'\n"Then the child's mother glared at me and said, 'That dog only has three legs.' And the boy started crying while he was petting him… Not because of (happiness) but because he was now scared of the dog. The dog went from being his best friend to scaring him."\nChildren and pets are more alike than we realize, he said, ladeling his speech with idioms like "growing up to be a child," because kids smile on average 365 times a day while adults do 17.
(08/24/05 5:33am)
Everyone remembers the first time they arrived in Bloomington for what seemed like the ultimate blind date. But for students brand-new to IU's campus and with no idea what to do, there's Welcome Week to help them feel more at home.\n"Welcome Week is about connecting students with the life of this campus, academically and socially," said Melanie Payne, associate director of orientation programs at IU. "It's mostly about introducing that in a fun way so they can make this campus their own and start adjusting to it so that it's a place where they can do well."\nWelcome Week's big kick-off is the Freshman Induction Ceremony at 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. Wednesday at the IU Auditorium, an event for new students and their families, said Payne.\n"It's like graduation in reverse, where students are inducted into the class of '09, presided over by President Adam Herbert and (IU-Bloomington Interim Chancellor Ken) Gros Louis," Payne said. "It's our ceremonial welcome, a tradition that goes back to 1933."\nThe sixth annual CultureFest, which is at 4:30 p.m. Thursday in the IU Auditorium, is another one of the week's highlights.\n"Induction is the ceremonial aspect, Traditions and Spirits is the spirited one and CultureFest is the celebration of the people," Payne said. "It celebrates the diversity that we have here, and kind of challenges us to share ourselves with others and get to know other people."\nBesides the week's bigger attractions, there are also smaller events. Friday is a day of open houses, fairs and free food around campus. The student employment job fair will be held in Alumni Hall in the Indiana Memorial Union. RecFest, in Woodlawn Field, is an introduction to club sports through the Division of Recreational Sports. Traditions and Spirits is the loud event, where students have a chance to learn the fight song and get into the spirit of IU. "Midnight Madness" begins at 10 p.m., with buses picking up students from the residence halls and taking them to various stores for last-minute shopping. \nTaste of the IMU, a new addition to Welcome Week this fall, is from 5:30 to 10:30 p.m. at the IMU.\n"It will be like a big open house," said Payne. "There will be an outdoor movie in Dunn Meadow, a rock-climbing wall, live bands, karaoke, henna tattoo artists and just lots of entertainment, activities and food."\nPayne encourages Hoosier students new and old to take part in Welcome Week's various festivities -- they aren't just for freshmen.\n"While we may be teaching new students traditional cheers that upperclassmen might know already, it's about reconnecting and is more than just a welcome," she said.\nMonday and Tuesday, returning students, faculty and administrators wearing bright red "IU Guide" T-shirts and armbands posted in high student traffic areas will help direct students and answer questions. Campus maps will be available.\n"Students should participate in Welcome Week events because if they do they'll meet people, get to know campus better and know opportunities," Payne said. "And really if they do that, IU's going to start to feel like home, and that's really what it's all about."\nOrientation schedule of events booklets can be picked up at various residence halls and events are also listed at the Office of Orientation Programs' Web site, www.indiana.edu/~orient/welcomeweek.
(08/04/05 10:39pm)
THE INTONATION FESTIVAL\nThe Intonation Festival, held by Pitchfork Media over the July 16-17 weekend at Chicago's Union Park, served as a warm-up for the following weekend's grand event, Lollapalooza.\nTwenty-one groups were to perform over two days on two alternating stages, and for many of them it was to be the largest crowd they'd yet played for -- 15,000 people. I wasn't impressed with the venue (a bunch of dusty baseball fields), but for just over a dollar a band, I'd stand on a frozen lake if it meant I got to hear this festival's lineup.\nA friend and I arrived a little late the first day, just managing to catch the New Pornographers' frontman A.C. Newman's opening. His rendition of "On the Table," from 2004's The Slow Wonder, was, I'm sorry to say, disappointingly dismal. The audience clapped, but Newman held them up, saying, "That sounded bad. I can't even imagine what that was like for you guys." He retuned with his guitarist and gave it another shot, calling the first run-through a "jazz" version. Things, I thought to myself, were starting to look up, with 13-part Broken Social Scene's versatile pop and Prefuse 73's blip-hop on the way.\nBut it was the Go! Team's performance that really stood out. Full of fun, the British group call to mind something like a funky hodgepodge of Motown-inspired, RJD2-mixed Spice Girls. Near the end of their set they invited a dozen or so local kids from the neighborhood pool onstage as impromptu dancers.\nAndrew Bird was our main draw for coming out the second day. We'd just familiarized ourselves with his new album, The Mysterious Production of Eggs. It was hard to believe there were only two performers up there (Bird and his drummer). Bird himself played violin or guitar, while he manipulated via foot pedal the other programmed part. Also, as his name implies, this kid can whistle. The show was wrapped up with humor; his charismatic energy had us hooked.\nDeerhoof, the Wrens, Les Savy Fav and the Decemberists all followed, and not one let me down. My appetite was whet -- I couldn't wait to get on the Lolla scene, four times bigger and one week later.\nANI DIFRANCO \nWhat did I expect from an Ani Difranco concert? I expected my girlfriend to love it. I also expected to be a little surprised myself by an artist known for her impressive live show. I anticipated calm, composed, intimate musical sessions of boho-rapping and guitar-strumming accompanied with earnest, upbeat songs about not-always-righteous womanhood prevailing.\nOnce we arrived, I can't deny being taken with the whole "everybody here's a lesbian" scene. The audience was different but tightly-knit -- there was a definite camaraderie among these women. Many with short hair and boho skirts, and clearly these tempests in teacups were ready to roll their hips and bodies all the way through along with Ani.\nWe ended up plopped on the lawn for much of the show, watching Difranco and her string bassist masterfully weaving her music's subtle scenes into overriding themes and philosophies, and it was impossible to miss her inexplicably heart-wrenching lyrics.\nDifranco's lineup alternated between songs from her new album Knuckle Down and old favorites. Her encore performance of "Shameless" finally had her women on their feet dancing. I'd like to think I joined in with the best of them, but I couldn't help feel the concert was over before it started.\nAlas, this only confirmed the fact that my initial expectations weren't unwarranted. This was Difranco's fault; with an audience chock-full of diehards (and the occasional boyfriend), the artist should've -- and could've -- balanced reflective introspection with outward celebration. There was definitely a balls-to-the-wall energy in the crowd that she took far too long to harness.\nIf I appreciated Ani Difranco the way these women do, I'm not sure if I would've expected more or less, and that's a testament to Difranco's limited audience.\nLOLLAPALOOZA\nKatie, a good friend from high school, is driving me home from her apartment in Chicago. Three o'clock in the morning (she really is a good friend), and we're just crossing into Indiana. My vision's focused on the white line in the middle of the road and I'm drifting in and out of consciousness, mentally reviewing some of the sights and sounds of the weekend. God, it was hot in Chicago.\n***\n"Lollapalooza." What an odd name. It means "something grand of its kind," so if you call 100-plus degrees, 66,000 people, more than 60 bands of largely alternative-rock influences and $120 later "something grand," I guess it fits.\nMy girlfriend Liz and I got into Chicago at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning, met the gang and stashed our gear at Katie's, our home for the weekend. After having a few, we all took a bus to the first annual single-site, two-day Lollapalooza at Grant Park.\nWe arrived at noon and filed in with the other thousands of people. Security took away our water jug, replacing it with one of their $3 waters, but we felt better as we were greeted by a surprisingly good set by Chicago's own The Redwalls.\nBands rotated every hour, two playing at a time. So we ran over and caught the end of the International Noise Conspiracy's Hives-ish set. Swedish and very political, INC's lead singer went on an anti-RIAA rant and said to download the band's new album this fall. It was the only show of anyone trying to fight "the Man" we witnessed all weekend, as corporate logos donned the stage. I was still bitter about my stolen water jug.\nAlt-rock stars Cake were to play two hours later. When Liz Phair's set ended and her fans decamped en mass from their posts, Liz and I muscled our way -- lo and behold! -- to the front row! Unlike the other acts of the day, Cake's an oldie. As 4:30 rolled around, the bubble of anticipation needed little more than a few notes from "The Distance" to burst.\nAfter Cake's performance, we found ourselves reluctant to give up the rail, deciding to hang on for dear life amongst Primus' hardcore fans as part of the day's growing coalition of Weezer-waiters.\nThe Pixies performed next-stage. We were unable to see the act, though, and started regretting holding our ground. In between Primus (the band responsible for South Park's theme) and Weezer, Billy Idol and Blonde Redhead (among others) were playing on other stages. But good things, as we soon remembered, come to those who wait.\nThe show, complete with lights, fog machines and their trademarked W, amounted to over an hour of crowd sing-alongs culled almost entirely from The Blue Album and Pinkerton, and 2005's Make Believe. Weezer's kind of a bigger-than-life group, and just being a few feet from an elusive Rivers Cuomo made our vigil along the rail worthwhile.\nThe adrenaline wore off though, and with our first day of Lolla-gagging through, we needed sleep.\nThe Sunday sun was brutal, and the festival became a mental and physical marathon. In fantasizing about this weekend, my image of it had never included standing with thousands through a day with a heat index of 115 degrees. With people passing out next to us, I couldn't help but notice that the $5-a-cup beer sluggers of yesterday had switched to water.\nBut it wasn't all fire and brimstone -- Dinosaur Jr.'s original lineup graced the audience with their "ear-bleeding country" for the first time since 1989, including a reinvigorating take of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven."\nA brief rest in the shade was in order, as were some granola bars and a swig or two of water. It helped with the energy index, and we were all set for Arcade Fire's 5:30 performance.\nThe nine Canadians' stage presence remains unparalleled, in my eyes and ears. As they performed tracks from 2004's Funeral, they swaggered with their technical prowess, switching instruments between nearly every song. And I mean from drums to accordion, from xylophone to string bass!\nNear the end of a blow-away set, during Arcade Fire's hit "Rebellion (Lies)," Wis Butler jumped offstage -- not an unusual act at Lolla. As he tramped his way up the press pit runway that split the audience in half, he hurtled the rail, parting people like the Red Sea and stopping at me, picking up the song and our own voices in the mic.\nStarry-eyed and breathless, we moved on to see class-act indie-rockers Spoon. A vivacious performance, however, couldn't hold the crowd from prematurely gravitating away from them (and, for that matter, from everywhere else) in anticipation of the night's headliners: the Killers.\nHowever, we chose good spots for Death Cab for Cutie over mile-away spots for the Killers. Death Cab's performance was impressive and their eight-minute encore of "Transatlanticism" was one of the best show-stoppers I've heard. We took off for Katie's via bus, our overheated bodies sprawled out on the cheap plastic seats.\n ***\nI head out the door the next morning and to my grounds-keeping job at the cemetery. We made it home last night, Katie's crashed on the couch, and it occurs to me how amazing it is that we go from one life to another. That's what festivals are: moments of musical euphoria which give way to bone-crushing, sweaty moments of something, and then they're over and we're back at our jobs and the humdrum of daily life. Well, it's over, and once again I'm left searching for the next grand event.
(08/04/05 4:00am)
THE INTONATION FESTIVAL\nThe Intonation Festival, held by Pitchfork Media over the July 16-17 weekend at Chicago's Union Park, served as a warm-up for the following weekend's grand event, Lollapalooza.\nTwenty-one groups were to perform over two days on two alternating stages, and for many of them it was to be the largest crowd they'd yet played for -- 15,000 people. I wasn't impressed with the venue (a bunch of dusty baseball fields), but for just over a dollar a band, I'd stand on a frozen lake if it meant I got to hear this festival's lineup.\nA friend and I arrived a little late the first day, just managing to catch the New Pornographers' frontman A.C. Newman's opening. His rendition of "On the Table," from 2004's The Slow Wonder, was, I'm sorry to say, disappointingly dismal. The audience clapped, but Newman held them up, saying, "That sounded bad. I can't even imagine what that was like for you guys." He retuned with his guitarist and gave it another shot, calling the first run-through a "jazz" version. Things, I thought to myself, were starting to look up, with 13-part Broken Social Scene's versatile pop and Prefuse 73's blip-hop on the way.\nBut it was the Go! Team's performance that really stood out. Full of fun, the British group call to mind something like a funky hodgepodge of Motown-inspired, RJD2-mixed Spice Girls. Near the end of their set they invited a dozen or so local kids from the neighborhood pool onstage as impromptu dancers.\nAndrew Bird was our main draw for coming out the second day. We'd just familiarized ourselves with his new album, The Mysterious Production of Eggs. It was hard to believe there were only two performers up there (Bird and his drummer). Bird himself played violin or guitar, while he manipulated via foot pedal the other programmed part. Also, as his name implies, this kid can whistle. The show was wrapped up with humor; his charismatic energy had us hooked.\nDeerhoof, the Wrens, Les Savy Fav and the Decemberists all followed, and not one let me down. My appetite was whet -- I couldn't wait to get on the Lolla scene, four times bigger and one week later.\nANI DIFRANCO \nWhat did I expect from an Ani Difranco concert? I expected my girlfriend to love it. I also expected to be a little surprised myself by an artist known for her impressive live show. I anticipated calm, composed, intimate musical sessions of boho-rapping and guitar-strumming accompanied with earnest, upbeat songs about not-always-righteous womanhood prevailing.\nOnce we arrived, I can't deny being taken with the whole "everybody here's a lesbian" scene. The audience was different but tightly-knit -- there was a definite camaraderie among these women. Many with short hair and boho skirts, and clearly these tempests in teacups were ready to roll their hips and bodies all the way through along with Ani.\nWe ended up plopped on the lawn for much of the show, watching Difranco and her string bassist masterfully weaving her music's subtle scenes into overriding themes and philosophies, and it was impossible to miss her inexplicably heart-wrenching lyrics.\nDifranco's lineup alternated between songs from her new album Knuckle Down and old favorites. Her encore performance of "Shameless" finally had her women on their feet dancing. I'd like to think I joined in with the best of them, but I couldn't help feel the concert was over before it started.\nAlas, this only confirmed the fact that my initial expectations weren't unwarranted. This was Difranco's fault; with an audience chock-full of diehards (and the occasional boyfriend), the artist should've -- and could've -- balanced reflective introspection with outward celebration. There was definitely a balls-to-the-wall energy in the crowd that she took far too long to harness.\nIf I appreciated Ani Difranco the way these women do, I'm not sure if I would've expected more or less, and that's a testament to Difranco's limited audience.\nLOLLAPALOOZA\nKatie, a good friend from high school, is driving me home from her apartment in Chicago. Three o'clock in the morning (she really is a good friend), and we're just crossing into Indiana. My vision's focused on the white line in the middle of the road and I'm drifting in and out of consciousness, mentally reviewing some of the sights and sounds of the weekend. God, it was hot in Chicago.\n***\n"Lollapalooza." What an odd name. It means "something grand of its kind," so if you call 100-plus degrees, 66,000 people, more than 60 bands of largely alternative-rock influences and $120 later "something grand," I guess it fits.\nMy girlfriend Liz and I got into Chicago at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning, met the gang and stashed our gear at Katie's, our home for the weekend. After having a few, we all took a bus to the first annual single-site, two-day Lollapalooza at Grant Park.\nWe arrived at noon and filed in with the other thousands of people. Security took away our water jug, replacing it with one of their $3 waters, but we felt better as we were greeted by a surprisingly good set by Chicago's own The Redwalls.\nBands rotated every hour, two playing at a time. So we ran over and caught the end of the International Noise Conspiracy's Hives-ish set. Swedish and very political, INC's lead singer went on an anti-RIAA rant and said to download the band's new album this fall. It was the only show of anyone trying to fight "the Man" we witnessed all weekend, as corporate logos donned the stage. I was still bitter about my stolen water jug.\nAlt-rock stars Cake were to play two hours later. When Liz Phair's set ended and her fans decamped en mass from their posts, Liz and I muscled our way -- lo and behold! -- to the front row! Unlike the other acts of the day, Cake's an oldie. As 4:30 rolled around, the bubble of anticipation needed little more than a few notes from "The Distance" to burst.\nAfter Cake's performance, we found ourselves reluctant to give up the rail, deciding to hang on for dear life amongst Primus' hardcore fans as part of the day's growing coalition of Weezer-waiters.\nThe Pixies performed next-stage. We were unable to see the act, though, and started regretting holding our ground. In between Primus (the band responsible for South Park's theme) and Weezer, Billy Idol and Blonde Redhead (among others) were playing on other stages. But good things, as we soon remembered, come to those who wait.\nThe show, complete with lights, fog machines and their trademarked W, amounted to over an hour of crowd sing-alongs culled almost entirely from The Blue Album and Pinkerton, and 2005's Make Believe. Weezer's kind of a bigger-than-life group, and just being a few feet from an elusive Rivers Cuomo made our vigil along the rail worthwhile.\nThe adrenaline wore off though, and with our first day of Lolla-gagging through, we needed sleep.\nThe Sunday sun was brutal, and the festival became a mental and physical marathon. In fantasizing about this weekend, my image of it had never included standing with thousands through a day with a heat index of 115 degrees. With people passing out next to us, I couldn't help but notice that the $5-a-cup beer sluggers of yesterday had switched to water.\nBut it wasn't all fire and brimstone -- Dinosaur Jr.'s original lineup graced the audience with their "ear-bleeding country" for the first time since 1989, including a reinvigorating take of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven."\nA brief rest in the shade was in order, as were some granola bars and a swig or two of water. It helped with the energy index, and we were all set for Arcade Fire's 5:30 performance.\nThe nine Canadians' stage presence remains unparalleled, in my eyes and ears. As they performed tracks from 2004's Funeral, they swaggered with their technical prowess, switching instruments between nearly every song. And I mean from drums to accordion, from xylophone to string bass!\nNear the end of a blow-away set, during Arcade Fire's hit "Rebellion (Lies)," Wis Butler jumped offstage -- not an unusual act at Lolla. As he tramped his way up the press pit runway that split the audience in half, he hurtled the rail, parting people like the Red Sea and stopping at me, picking up the song and our own voices in the mic.\nStarry-eyed and breathless, we moved on to see class-act indie-rockers Spoon. A vivacious performance, however, couldn't hold the crowd from prematurely gravitating away from them (and, for that matter, from everywhere else) in anticipation of the night's headliners: the Killers.\nHowever, we chose good spots for Death Cab for Cutie over mile-away spots for the Killers. Death Cab's performance was impressive and their eight-minute encore of "Transatlanticism" was one of the best show-stoppers I've heard. We took off for Katie's via bus, our overheated bodies sprawled out on the cheap plastic seats.\n ***\nI head out the door the next morning and to my grounds-keeping job at the cemetery. We made it home last night, Katie's crashed on the couch, and it occurs to me how amazing it is that we go from one life to another. That's what festivals are: moments of musical euphoria which give way to bone-crushing, sweaty moments of something, and then they're over and we're back at our jobs and the humdrum of daily life. Well, it's over, and once again I'm left searching for the next grand event.
(06/30/05 4:00am)
Billy Corgan, a slim, gaunt man with vaguely haunting eyes, was my first modern day idea of a deity. He was the 1990s-era's bard of loneliness, rat-in-a-cage isolation and his band, the Smashing Pumpkins, were a function of that era. My worship of them was unique and ripe with urgency, a sensation shared by no more than every other growing-pained teenager dependant on inflated, you-wouldn't-understand feelings.\nBut as the great Pumpkin sings on his new solo album, TheFutureEmbrace, "All things change." The band split up, and Billy brought together a throng of expert indie-rockers to form Zwan. They recorded a one-off called Mary Star of the Sea, an album greeted by mixed reviews. The band broke up, and fans still respected their 1990s goth-rock Buddha, but the label "has-been" entered their vocabulary, an even easier mistake following Billy's pretentious excuse of a book of poetry, 2004's Blinking Fists.\nBut while Zwan's catchy Day-Glo guitar-pop was Machiavellian to those expecting another Pumpkins record tagged under a new band name, Embrace is the dangled carrot that abiding Pumpkinheads have longed for: the album that justifies the lemming-like enthusiasm fostered by everything Pumpkins or Billy Corgan, whether we took to Zwan or not.\nThe first three tracks stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the sound of the Pumpkins' Adore. They build on one another steadily until the fourth track, a cover of the Bee Gees' sorrowful "To Love Somebody," which plants Corgan into an atmospheric, Disintegration-esque glam-rock duet with the Cure's Robert Smith.\nThe rest of the album's 45 minutes hang together nicely, creating and sustaining a mood of bird-in-space airiness. Corgan divides his efforts between '80s shoegaze-inspired tracks that mimic the Cure's self-absorbed gloom, such as "Now (And Then)" and "Sorrow (In Blue)," and songs with clear hooks and hefty, fuzz-drenched beats more reminiscent of the Pumpkins' last album, Machina. The album's single, a post-punk riff and stomp called "Walking Shade," finds Billy successfully pulling off his closest New Order impression.\nFormer Pumpkins and Zwan drummer Jimmy Chamberlain guests on "DIA" and his impact is instantly recognizable from the rest of the album's stiff, less affecting drum machine beats. Embrace also misses James and D'Arcy. Nonetheless, the album is skillfully produced and Corgan's consistent, techno orchestrations admittedly grow on the listener.\nEmbrace won't win Corgan any new fans, but with enough already-fans in the wings, it's another album for them to lock themselves in their rooms, clutch their teddies and rock on their hams to the nostalgic voice of their 1990s goth-rock Buddha as he sings lyrics like, "Deposit change in the camera eye / Who needs pain to survive? / I need pain to change my life." Teens are now in their twenties, and even with all this pain I still need a Billy Corgan fix.
(06/30/05 12:11am)
Billy Corgan, a slim, gaunt man with vaguely haunting eyes, was my first modern day idea of a deity. He was the 1990s-era's bard of loneliness, rat-in-a-cage isolation and his band, the Smashing Pumpkins, were a function of that era. My worship of them was unique and ripe with urgency, a sensation shared by no more than every other growing-pained teenager dependant on inflated, you-wouldn't-understand feelings.\nBut as the great Pumpkin sings on his new solo album, TheFutureEmbrace, "All things change." The band split up, and Billy brought together a throng of expert indie-rockers to form Zwan. They recorded a one-off called Mary Star of the Sea, an album greeted by mixed reviews. The band broke up, and fans still respected their 1990s goth-rock Buddha, but the label "has-been" entered their vocabulary, an even easier mistake following Billy's pretentious excuse of a book of poetry, 2004's Blinking Fists.\nBut while Zwan's catchy Day-Glo guitar-pop was Machiavellian to those expecting another Pumpkins record tagged under a new band name, Embrace is the dangled carrot that abiding Pumpkinheads have longed for: the album that justifies the lemming-like enthusiasm fostered by everything Pumpkins or Billy Corgan, whether we took to Zwan or not.\nThe first three tracks stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the sound of the Pumpkins' Adore. They build on one another steadily until the fourth track, a cover of the Bee Gees' sorrowful "To Love Somebody," which plants Corgan into an atmospheric, Disintegration-esque glam-rock duet with the Cure's Robert Smith.\nThe rest of the album's 45 minutes hang together nicely, creating and sustaining a mood of bird-in-space airiness. Corgan divides his efforts between '80s shoegaze-inspired tracks that mimic the Cure's self-absorbed gloom, such as "Now (And Then)" and "Sorrow (In Blue)," and songs with clear hooks and hefty, fuzz-drenched beats more reminiscent of the Pumpkins' last album, Machina. The album's single, a post-punk riff and stomp called "Walking Shade," finds Billy successfully pulling off his closest New Order impression.\nFormer Pumpkins and Zwan drummer Jimmy Chamberlain guests on "DIA" and his impact is instantly recognizable from the rest of the album's stiff, less affecting drum machine beats. Embrace also misses James and D'Arcy. Nonetheless, the album is skillfully produced and Corgan's consistent, techno orchestrations admittedly grow on the listener.\nEmbrace won't win Corgan any new fans, but with enough already-fans in the wings, it's another album for them to lock themselves in their rooms, clutch their teddies and rock on their hams to the nostalgic voice of their 1990s goth-rock Buddha as he sings lyrics like, "Deposit change in the camera eye / Who needs pain to survive? / I need pain to change my life." Teens are now in their twenties, and even with all this pain I still need a Billy Corgan fix.
(06/16/05 4:00am)
In the mid-90s, Oasis thought they had been summoned to the birth of their own greatness. They were arrogant and out to change the world, starting their own British invasion with three decade-defining albums in Definitely Maybe, What's the Story (Morning Glory)? and Be Here Now. God knows they weren't the Beatles, but then again, when they were popular, they were very, very popular. \nWell, here we are years later and Don't Believe the Truth, Oasis' sixth LP, finds a band still searching for its sound by looking through their Beatles and Stones collections. So much of Oasis' music has always been traced to their retro rock influences, and much of their appeal lies in figuring where their tunes were borrowed. The second track "Mucky Fingers," driven by hammering drums and the wail of a harmonica, pays homage to The Velvet Underground. The album's single "Lyla" embraces the Rolling Stones' "Street Fighting Man," however, at five minutes long, it quickly becomes tedious. The last few tracks are good examples of the band's Beatles obsession, with "A Bell Will Ring" sounding closest to Revolver-era Beatles and "Let There Be Love" being a nod to "Let It Be."\nSadly, the trademarks that made Oasis big in the first place are missing from Believe, which is short of delivering even half the electric charge that their sing-along anthems like "Supersonic," "Wonderwall" and "Stand By Me" had in spades. However, even if Believe cannot heft the burden of living up to Oasis' past, it is still a rewarding listen from a band with a hard history that includes a complete remodeling of the band's lineup outside of the Gallagher brothers, cocaine addiction and two albums that didn't meet expectations. Interestingly, the band has finally related themselves directly to The Beatles. Ringo's son Zak Starkey, who is on loan from The Who and Oasis' unofficial fifth man, plays drums on Believe.\nOnce upon a time, Oasis fans were debating whether the band was better than the Beatles. Ever since, we've been left to wonder if they can even top themselves, while the idea of a new Coldplay, Radiohead or Strokes album is as exciting as the first kiss with your sweetheart. \nAnymore, it's not about where Oasis is going next but whether they will ever recapture at least a touch of their past glory. The band's superstardom blew up to such great heights, that the most logical thing for Oasis to do is continue what they're doing: search the perimeter of the crater created by their initial explosion, and pick up the fragments of what was bit by bit, album to album.
(06/16/05 2:04am)
In the mid-90s, Oasis thought they had been summoned to the birth of their own greatness. They were arrogant and out to change the world, starting their own British invasion with three decade-defining albums in Definitely Maybe, What's the Story (Morning Glory)? and Be Here Now. God knows they weren't the Beatles, but then again, when they were popular, they were very, very popular. \nWell, here we are years later and Don't Believe the Truth, Oasis' sixth LP, finds a band still searching for its sound by looking through their Beatles and Stones collections. So much of Oasis' music has always been traced to their retro rock influences, and much of their appeal lies in figuring where their tunes were borrowed. The second track "Mucky Fingers," driven by hammering drums and the wail of a harmonica, pays homage to The Velvet Underground. The album's single "Lyla" embraces the Rolling Stones' "Street Fighting Man," however, at five minutes long, it quickly becomes tedious. The last few tracks are good examples of the band's Beatles obsession, with "A Bell Will Ring" sounding closest to Revolver-era Beatles and "Let There Be Love" being a nod to "Let It Be."\nSadly, the trademarks that made Oasis big in the first place are missing from Believe, which is short of delivering even half the electric charge that their sing-along anthems like "Supersonic," "Wonderwall" and "Stand By Me" had in spades. However, even if Believe cannot heft the burden of living up to Oasis' past, it is still a rewarding listen from a band with a hard history that includes a complete remodeling of the band's lineup outside of the Gallagher brothers, cocaine addiction and two albums that didn't meet expectations. Interestingly, the band has finally related themselves directly to The Beatles. Ringo's son Zak Starkey, who is on loan from The Who and Oasis' unofficial fifth man, plays drums on Believe.\nOnce upon a time, Oasis fans were debating whether the band was better than the Beatles. Ever since, we've been left to wonder if they can even top themselves, while the idea of a new Coldplay, Radiohead or Strokes album is as exciting as the first kiss with your sweetheart. \nAnymore, it's not about where Oasis is going next but whether they will ever recapture at least a touch of their past glory. The band's superstardom blew up to such great heights, that the most logical thing for Oasis to do is continue what they're doing: search the perimeter of the crater created by their initial explosion, and pick up the fragments of what was bit by bit, album to album.
(06/02/05 3:58pm)
In his first two post-Pavement solo albums — the eponymous debut and Pig Lib — Stephen Malkmus proved remarkable confidence in his abilities. Now, with Face the Truth, the Pavement-pioneer-gone-solo manages to stretch his frontier in yet another unadventurous album, one that this time aches with nostalgia for a coming-of-age Pavement record that never was. Face the Truth is by no means a Pavement rip-off, but solo Malkmus remains the same spirited, fast-witted singer/songwriter after all these years, even if he doesn't achieve the same cult following as Pavement.\nStephen Malkmus' conflict is with people complaining that the smirking, non-sequitur know-it-all is good, but he doesn't measure up to his old band. Is he merely a 1990's leftover, or a noise-rock architect? So far, he neither redevelops his sound nor does he fall into the trap of parodying himself. Instead, he and his backing band the Jicks succeed at folding his instant recipe into finely grown, middle-of-the-road indie-rock.\nThat said, Face the Truth is nothing that couldn't have been expected, though the work more openly nourishes Malkmus' furiously A.D.D. Pavement tendencies. Malkmus squeezes enough angst into the whirring-though-structured "Pencil Rot" as to generate, for lack of a better comparison, Rivers Cuomo-esque whiney psychological resonance. The third track, "I've Hardly Been," is set to a spooky oompa-loompa strum that disjointedly heaves the listener into "Freeze the Saints," which lures us into the pseudo-carefree ode to languishing.\nThe album's second half is Malkmus' most enjoyable string of songs in years. "Kindling for the Master" is white-boy blues-funk, with low-fi Americana grooves as hip and retarded as Napolean Dynamite posing as Beck. "Post-Paint Boy" is the album's fantastically catchy single.\nHis solo stint isn't Lennon's post-Beatles Imagine, but needless to say, he puts Paul's solo career to shame. In short, this album kicks asphalt!
(06/02/05 4:00am)
In his first two post-Pavement solo albums — the eponymous debut and Pig Lib — Stephen Malkmus proved remarkable confidence in his abilities. Now, with Face the Truth, the Pavement-pioneer-gone-solo manages to stretch his frontier in yet another unadventurous album, one that this time aches with nostalgia for a coming-of-age Pavement record that never was. Face the Truth is by no means a Pavement rip-off, but solo Malkmus remains the same spirited, fast-witted singer/songwriter after all these years, even if he doesn't achieve the same cult following as Pavement.\nStephen Malkmus' conflict is with people complaining that the smirking, non-sequitur know-it-all is good, but he doesn't measure up to his old band. Is he merely a 1990's leftover, or a noise-rock architect? So far, he neither redevelops his sound nor does he fall into the trap of parodying himself. Instead, he and his backing band the Jicks succeed at folding his instant recipe into finely grown, middle-of-the-road indie-rock.\nThat said, Face the Truth is nothing that couldn't have been expected, though the work more openly nourishes Malkmus' furiously A.D.D. Pavement tendencies. Malkmus squeezes enough angst into the whirring-though-structured "Pencil Rot" as to generate, for lack of a better comparison, Rivers Cuomo-esque whiney psychological resonance. The third track, "I've Hardly Been," is set to a spooky oompa-loompa strum that disjointedly heaves the listener into "Freeze the Saints," which lures us into the pseudo-carefree ode to languishing.\nThe album's second half is Malkmus' most enjoyable string of songs in years. "Kindling for the Master" is white-boy blues-funk, with low-fi Americana grooves as hip and retarded as Napolean Dynamite posing as Beck. "Post-Paint Boy" is the album's fantastically catchy single.\nHis solo stint isn't Lennon's post-Beatles Imagine, but needless to say, he puts Paul's solo career to shame. In short, this album kicks asphalt!
(05/26/05 3:11pm)
Ryan Adams' (mis)casting of himself is almost impressive in its range. \nFive years ago, after a rousing solo start with alt-country release Heartbreaker, 2003's Rock N Roll was Adams' attempt, for better or worse, at a Bon Jovi-ified, utterly alive rock n' roll record. An appropriate title could've been Ryan Adams Apes the Foo Fighters, Etc. The Love is Hell LP, released immediately thereafter and sounding exceptionally different, found Adams channeling Brit-poppers Oasis, Thom York, Jeff Buckley and U2. With Cold Roses, Adams -- more country music's Johnny Rotten than Dylan-esque anything -- has crafted a lovelorn album that strays back to his changelessly classical-country roots while sparing the Toby Keith-era clichés. \nCold Roses -- 18 tracks, 76 minutes long—is stretched across two discs. However, compared with Adams' history of put-it-all-on-there, unedited "max"imalism, it's a congruent album to put on and leave on, similar to 1970s progressive-Americana old-timers like the Grateful Dead, to whom the cover art and yodelay-ing Jerry Garcia vocals pay tribute. Adams' backing band the Cardinals -- which includes JP Bowersock, the man credited with coaching The Strokes -- does a fine job throughout the work and are responsible for Cold Roses' varnished finish. Without the Cardinals on this album, Adams would parallel Dave Matthews without his band: not so good.\nDisc one's pacing resides mid-tempo while disc two, to the contrary, unearths much more rambling guitar man in Adams. The only track that feels out of place is the first disc's "Beautiful Sorta," a monotone, repetitive skirt song with John Lennon-like call outs. "When Will You Come Back Home" has the feel of a road trip with James Taylor performing a tune in the passenger seat. "Cherry Lane" could've been picked from the Grateful Dead's set list, and its building refrain caters to the Damien Rice crowd. The next track, "Mockingbird," delivers Langston Hughes-esque laments like, "Mockingbird sing / Sing me what the Lord was singing on the day he made the water the color of the blues."\nPerhaps Cold Roses most notable achievement is that its cushioned slackness allows Adams, surrounded by great expectation and hype, to once again continue sharpening his grasp of a not-yet steely American type -- the guy with horn-rimmed glasses who skipped Whiskeytown (his former band), released five solo albums since 2000 while having flings with Winona Ryder, money, modishness and hype, among others, and then let loose Cold Roses, a suitable staging post in the young artist's headlong career. Adams has a ways to go, but until his next two LPs, Jacksonville City and 29 are released this fall, I can't wait.
(05/26/05 4:00am)
Ryan Adams' (mis)casting of himself is almost impressive in its range. \nFive years ago, after a rousing solo start with alt-country release Heartbreaker, 2003's Rock N Roll was Adams' attempt, for better or worse, at a Bon Jovi-ified, utterly alive rock n' roll record. An appropriate title could've been Ryan Adams Apes the Foo Fighters, Etc. The Love is Hell LP, released immediately thereafter and sounding exceptionally different, found Adams channeling Brit-poppers Oasis, Thom York, Jeff Buckley and U2. With Cold Roses, Adams -- more country music's Johnny Rotten than Dylan-esque anything -- has crafted a lovelorn album that strays back to his changelessly classical-country roots while sparing the Toby Keith-era clichés. \nCold Roses -- 18 tracks, 76 minutes long—is stretched across two discs. However, compared with Adams' history of put-it-all-on-there, unedited "max"imalism, it's a congruent album to put on and leave on, similar to 1970s progressive-Americana old-timers like the Grateful Dead, to whom the cover art and yodelay-ing Jerry Garcia vocals pay tribute. Adams' backing band the Cardinals -- which includes JP Bowersock, the man credited with coaching The Strokes -- does a fine job throughout the work and are responsible for Cold Roses' varnished finish. Without the Cardinals on this album, Adams would parallel Dave Matthews without his band: not so good.\nDisc one's pacing resides mid-tempo while disc two, to the contrary, unearths much more rambling guitar man in Adams. The only track that feels out of place is the first disc's "Beautiful Sorta," a monotone, repetitive skirt song with John Lennon-like call outs. "When Will You Come Back Home" has the feel of a road trip with James Taylor performing a tune in the passenger seat. "Cherry Lane" could've been picked from the Grateful Dead's set list, and its building refrain caters to the Damien Rice crowd. The next track, "Mockingbird," delivers Langston Hughes-esque laments like, "Mockingbird sing / Sing me what the Lord was singing on the day he made the water the color of the blues."\nPerhaps Cold Roses most notable achievement is that its cushioned slackness allows Adams, surrounded by great expectation and hype, to once again continue sharpening his grasp of a not-yet steely American type -- the guy with horn-rimmed glasses who skipped Whiskeytown (his former band), released five solo albums since 2000 while having flings with Winona Ryder, money, modishness and hype, among others, and then let loose Cold Roses, a suitable staging post in the young artist's headlong career. Adams has a ways to go, but until his next two LPs, Jacksonville City and 29 are released this fall, I can't wait.
(05/19/05 4:21pm)
Weezer has always been adept at tying themselves in with pop culture, from their "Keep Fishing" video with the Muppets to the "Buddy Holly" single where they're synched in, playing for the "Happy Days" crowd at Al's Diner. See, there are still things about mass culture I'll always really like -- cereal out of a box, riding a bike, Star Wars and singing along with Weezer.\nMake Believe, only the band's fifth album in 11 years, starts with its first single "Beverly Hills," a simplistic "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" anthem with a touch of rap from Rivers Cuomo, '90s nerd rock's knight in shining armor. It's a fun kick-start to the album because, I mean, who doesn't love Joan Jett's "I Love Rock 'n' Roll"? "Perfect Situation," the second track, comes across as traditional feel-good Weezer, however, it's made clear that the band has dressed up its old format a little -- the Weezer wall of sound is smoother and cleaner than in previous albums. \n Halfway through the album Rivers experiments more with vocals, but the lyrics still speak of his tormented inner-self. He holds true to Weezer's staple "woah-oh-oh" solos (the one in "Peace" is 50 seconds long), reminding me of the way Cake constantly says "alright." "We Are All on Drugs" has a stiff anti-drug theme and, depending on what drugs he's going after, good for him. "The Damage in Your Heart" is new and improved Weezer altogether, especially with the way the vocals and instrumentation play off each other.\n In "Pardon Me," overcast lyrics alongside happy power pop chord progressions signal lifting clouds and light at the end of the tunnel for Rivers the narrator. Quoting some Weezer is always good stuff, and when he wails the so-cheesy-it-works line, "You're my best friend, and I love you, yes I do," while the rest of the band echoes "I love you" on "My Best Friend," I reflect on all my friendships, thinking of how great it is to have a friend. The song is sing-along Weezer at its best. "The Other Way" is as catchy as throwing a duct-taped ball around, sticky side out, but what song by these guys isn't? "Freak Me Out" is mellow, like sipping on a 40-ounce Mellow Yellow -- that's a lot of Mellow Yellow, and Make Believe is a lot of Weezer at 45 minutes long, especially compared with the 29-minute Green Album.\n New Weezer is always going to be good Weezer. Make Believe may not be better than 20th century Weezer -- they will not make another Blue Album or Pinkerton -- but it's more Weezer, and just like college after high school, to me that's more of the good life. I may wait until the Spice Girls reunion to wet myself with joy, but until then I have Make Believe to make me glad I am still growing up, together with the great little group of musicians known as Weezer.
(05/19/05 4:00am)
Weezer has always been adept at tying themselves in with pop culture, from their "Keep Fishing" video with the Muppets to the "Buddy Holly" single where they're synched in, playing for the "Happy Days" crowd at Al's Diner. See, there are still things about mass culture I'll always really like -- cereal out of a box, riding a bike, Star Wars and singing along with Weezer.\nMake Believe, only the band's fifth album in 11 years, starts with its first single "Beverly Hills," a simplistic "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" anthem with a touch of rap from Rivers Cuomo, '90s nerd rock's knight in shining armor. It's a fun kick-start to the album because, I mean, who doesn't love Joan Jett's "I Love Rock 'n' Roll"? "Perfect Situation," the second track, comes across as traditional feel-good Weezer, however, it's made clear that the band has dressed up its old format a little -- the Weezer wall of sound is smoother and cleaner than in previous albums. \n Halfway through the album Rivers experiments more with vocals, but the lyrics still speak of his tormented inner-self. He holds true to Weezer's staple "woah-oh-oh" solos (the one in "Peace" is 50 seconds long), reminding me of the way Cake constantly says "alright." "We Are All on Drugs" has a stiff anti-drug theme and, depending on what drugs he's going after, good for him. "The Damage in Your Heart" is new and improved Weezer altogether, especially with the way the vocals and instrumentation play off each other.\n In "Pardon Me," overcast lyrics alongside happy power pop chord progressions signal lifting clouds and light at the end of the tunnel for Rivers the narrator. Quoting some Weezer is always good stuff, and when he wails the so-cheesy-it-works line, "You're my best friend, and I love you, yes I do," while the rest of the band echoes "I love you" on "My Best Friend," I reflect on all my friendships, thinking of how great it is to have a friend. The song is sing-along Weezer at its best. "The Other Way" is as catchy as throwing a duct-taped ball around, sticky side out, but what song by these guys isn't? "Freak Me Out" is mellow, like sipping on a 40-ounce Mellow Yellow -- that's a lot of Mellow Yellow, and Make Believe is a lot of Weezer at 45 minutes long, especially compared with the 29-minute Green Album.\n New Weezer is always going to be good Weezer. Make Believe may not be better than 20th century Weezer -- they will not make another Blue Album or Pinkerton -- but it's more Weezer, and just like college after high school, to me that's more of the good life. I may wait until the Spice Girls reunion to wet myself with joy, but until then I have Make Believe to make me glad I am still growing up, together with the great little group of musicians known as Weezer.
(05/12/05 4:00am)
Just off the heels of Eels' first album Beautiful Freak and hit single "Novocaine for the Soul" in 1996, E, the group's singer, songwriter and guitarist, lost his mother to cancer and his sister to suicide -- not to mention more recently his cousin, a flight attendant on one of the 9/11 planes. The themes of the group's new two-disc album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations are, in essence, ones E's been dwelling on intermittently ever since familial tragedy.\nFor any single album, that is setting the bar high as inspiration. How often in a career can an artist say -- 'This is for my mom, my sister, my cousin'? At that point, it becomes a tribute to people the artist loves, and unless E had an unexpected flash of Dylan-esque inspiration, I imagine making an apt tribute for those people dearest to him was a heavy load to carry.\nThe best thing about the Eels has been that the world they depict wasn't always very pretty. While Elliott Smith might just roll over and go, the Eels' mixture of gritty spunk and narcoleptic arrangements usually ends on a hopeful note. E himself may be at the bottom, but if you're kind of miserable too and want company, there he is.\nBlinking Lights doesn't deviate much from the Eels' previous work. Their catalogue certainly follows a distinct formula and even though this consistence has kept me buying their albums, it also requires a particular mood with which to listen. The Eels perpetuate their frame of mind for as long as an album lasts, and that's the beat of the aggressively downhearted alongside E's Stereopathetic Soulmanure-period Beck-like vocals. As with any band that operates in that much of a formulaic fashion, Blinking Lights -- 33 songs, 93 minutes long -- offers more of the same. If you really like the Eels you'll love Blinking Lights, but don't expect something innovative.\nKnowing what I know now -- that Blinking Lights is noticeably long with definite highlights -- and with the way people digitize their music nowadays, I'd recommend buying the album and cutting it down to 14 tracks. Absent of the pitter-pattering transition songs E's stuffed in between many of the Eels' very best, this album would have had a candor and density to it mirroring Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Beck's Sea Change. Instead, what you expect is what you get, and that's the Eels. The same old Eels.
(05/12/05 12:46am)
Just off the heels of Eels' first album Beautiful Freak and hit single "Novocaine for the Soul" in 1996, E, the group's singer, songwriter and guitarist, lost his mother to cancer and his sister to suicide -- not to mention more recently his cousin, a flight attendant on one of the 9/11 planes. The themes of the group's new two-disc album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations are, in essence, ones E's been dwelling on intermittently ever since familial tragedy.\nFor any single album, that is setting the bar high as inspiration. How often in a career can an artist say -- 'This is for my mom, my sister, my cousin'? At that point, it becomes a tribute to people the artist loves, and unless E had an unexpected flash of Dylan-esque inspiration, I imagine making an apt tribute for those people dearest to him was a heavy load to carry.\nThe best thing about the Eels has been that the world they depict wasn't always very pretty. While Elliott Smith might just roll over and go, the Eels' mixture of gritty spunk and narcoleptic arrangements usually ends on a hopeful note. E himself may be at the bottom, but if you're kind of miserable too and want company, there he is.\nBlinking Lights doesn't deviate much from the Eels' previous work. Their catalogue certainly follows a distinct formula and even though this consistence has kept me buying their albums, it also requires a particular mood with which to listen. The Eels perpetuate their frame of mind for as long as an album lasts, and that's the beat of the aggressively downhearted alongside E's Stereopathetic Soulmanure-period Beck-like vocals. As with any band that operates in that much of a formulaic fashion, Blinking Lights -- 33 songs, 93 minutes long -- offers more of the same. If you really like the Eels you'll love Blinking Lights, but don't expect something innovative.\nKnowing what I know now -- that Blinking Lights is noticeably long with definite highlights -- and with the way people digitize their music nowadays, I'd recommend buying the album and cutting it down to 14 tracks. Absent of the pitter-pattering transition songs E's stuffed in between many of the Eels' very best, this album would have had a candor and density to it mirroring Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Beck's Sea Change. Instead, what you expect is what you get, and that's the Eels. The same old Eels.
(04/28/05 4:00am)
Recently, I've been buttonholing everybody I know and telling them about Viva Voce, the indie-rock husband/wife duo of Kevin and Anita Robinson.\nThey played at Second Story Monday night and I think it was the best show around that no one went to, besides 20 some people, half of whom performed for the openers.\nPrizzy Prizzy Please opened first. The local sax/guitar/drums foursome, featuring Mark Pallnan's's freak-out sax-playing and screechy falsetto, humorously performed numbers about animals, indoor kids, privates and Ron Artest. After a solid showing they ended, to everyone's amusement, with Will Smith's "Just the Two of Us."\nNext up, Montreal's all-femme outfit Pony Up!, who put on a playful set that you could roll your hips to. It included only one song from their hard-to-listen-to 21-minute, 7-song debut EP — by all means, a step in the right direction.\nViva Voce, which translates from Italian to "by word of mouth," opened with "Alive with Pleasure," a single fit for the charts. Anita came in with fuzz-driven riffs on her Danelectro baritone guitar and Kevin got the rest rolling with a bracing rhythmic backbeat. They both "hoo-hoo-ed" a chorus until the song strayed into a dreamy segue a la the Fiery Furnaces and then did a refrain of the beginning. \nViva Voce played an array of other tracks, mostly from their latest album The Heat Can Melt Your Brain, including their second single "The Center of the Universe," a Pink Floyd-esque chill-out odyssey. They occasionally used a beat machine for added ambiance. \nDespite the fact that their albums were recorded in their Portland, Ore. home, Viva Voce's sound has the production quality of a Stereolab or Zero7 album. You've never heard of them before because they're fiercely independent; however, you may've heard their music ("Lesson No. 1," a cheery hand-clapper, has been played on "The OC").\nKevin and Anita told me before the show that, being over here until their summer tour in Germany, their success abroad doesn't even feel very real at the moment because they're used to small gigs here. Seeing this exceedingly talented couple play a dead Bloomington bar on a Monday night didn't feel real to me, either.
(04/27/05 5:42am)
Recently, I've been buttonholing everybody I know and telling them about Viva Voce, the indie-rock husband/wife duo of Kevin and Anita Robinson.\nThey played at Second Story Monday night and I think it was the best show around that no one went to, besides 20 some people, half of whom performed for the openers.\nPrizzy Prizzy Please opened first. The local sax/guitar/drums foursome, featuring Mark Pallnan's's freak-out sax-playing and screechy falsetto, humorously performed numbers about animals, indoor kids, privates and Ron Artest. After a solid showing they ended, to everyone's amusement, with Will Smith's "Just the Two of Us."\nNext up, Montreal's all-femme outfit Pony Up!, who put on a playful set that you could roll your hips to. It included only one song from their hard-to-listen-to 21-minute, 7-song debut EP — by all means, a step in the right direction.\nViva Voce, which translates from Italian to "by word of mouth," opened with "Alive with Pleasure," a single fit for the charts. Anita came in with fuzz-driven riffs on her Danelectro baritone guitar and Kevin got the rest rolling with a bracing rhythmic backbeat. They both "hoo-hoo-ed" a chorus until the song strayed into a dreamy segue a la the Fiery Furnaces and then did a refrain of the beginning. \nViva Voce played an array of other tracks, mostly from their latest album The Heat Can Melt Your Brain, including their second single "The Center of the Universe," a Pink Floyd-esque chill-out odyssey. They occasionally used a beat machine for added ambiance. \nDespite the fact that their albums were recorded in their Portland, Ore. home, Viva Voce's sound has the production quality of a Stereolab or Zero7 album. You've never heard of them before because they're fiercely independent; however, you may've heard their music ("Lesson No. 1," a cheery hand-clapper, has been played on "The OC").\nKevin and Anita told me before the show that, being over here until their summer tour in Germany, their success abroad doesn't even feel very real at the moment because they're used to small gigs here. Seeing this exceedingly talented couple play a dead Bloomington bar on a Monday night didn't feel real to me, either.
(04/19/05 4:40am)
Since January, Ellen Keating, a 20-year-old IU junior majoring in comparative literature with a minor in Spanish, has adjusted and is thriving as an American studying in Seville, Spain.\nAs she walks to class at the University of Seville, lugging her big dictionary around if for no other reason than to read the new Spanish edition of Rolling Stone, she realizes she's truly made Seville her home. She finds it odd how uncomfortable she was making the transition, when her only problem now is finding a way to stay beyond the semester's end.\n"If it comes down to it, I might just have to marry a torero (matador) in order to stay," Keating wrote in a letter to her family. "But don't worry, you'd all be invited, and we'd subtitle the wedding."\nKeating said she is now more confident in herself and her communication skills, which were a nerve-racking obstacle upon arrival.\n"At the beginning I was always frustrated," she said. "Simply ordering food, taking a taxi or telling my señora that I was going out made me nervous." \nKeating barely remembers a day when she didn't struggle to communicate in a country where even the dogs understand the language, and even though she discovered that "peek-a-boo" is a universal phrase -- something she learned while playing with her host family's grandchildren -- she said being jealous of the language skills of a kindergartner is humbling.\n"Their grandkids are adorable, but I couldn't help but feel frustrated when 4-year-olds speak better than me," Keating said. "To communicate, I feel like I'm all of a sudden using a dial-up connection when all my life I've been using DSL. Fortunately, my Spanish gets better every day and kids are so easy to please, even in another language."\nNot surprisingly, she has learned 10 times more from talking with her host family, watching movies, reading the paper and going out with her friends than she has from classes. Keating believes her mastery of Spanish text messaging is a good example of her progress.\n"Imagine phrases like 'c u 2nite' and 'lol' in a foreign language," Keating said. "I speak mad Spanglish now, too, and I even have dreams in Spanish."\nDespite the University's role as a pioneer of international studies, it wasn't until the mid-1950s that annual intercollegiate programs abroad were set up for Indiana students. In 1959 IU's Department of Spanish and Portuguese began a program in Lima, Peru, the first U.S. overseas study program in the southern hemisphere, according to the Office of Overseas Studies.\nLiz Oates, another IU student studying in Seville this semester, is a senior whose concentrations are in mathematics and economics. She explained in an e-mail that her decision to study abroad meant leaving a perfectly happy life in Bloomington.\n"I was sad to go, but that makes the experience that much more valuable, because it's really hard to grow in your comfort zone," she said.\nBoth Keating and Oates said one of the largest differences between the two countries is that the Spanish place more emphasis on community.\n"Success means something different here," Oates said. "There's more of a focus on people and less on money. In the U.S. people live for tomorrow -- you want to go to college so you can get a job so you can work so you can make money so someday you won't have to work -- while the Spanish live for today. They follow their impulses and savor life. Americans have a 'live to work' mentality whereas, here, people work to live."\nAside from speaking another language, the IU students have taken to a separate way of life altogether.\n"I know I will have to adapt in some ways when I get back to the U.S. because it's not practical to live this way there -- and sadly so," Oates said. "It isn't practical to live any other way here. Spain in two words: fiesta and siesta!"\nAnd while in Spain, the students eat and drink well.\n"Dorm food is like dog food in comparison, and the oranges here put Florida oranges to shame," said Oates, a native of Coral Gables, Fla.\nAnother difference between Spain and the United States' eating habits is that, at a Spanish restaurant, it's often cheaper to order wine than water, and beer is often cheaper than soda.\n"Plus, my family always gives me the choice of a juice box or some red wine with lunch and dinner, which I find funny," she said.\nFor nearly two months, Keating, Oates and other IU students have survived a culture without hamburgers, cups of water with ice, central heating and "The Simpsons" in English, yet they are doing surprisingly well in this college town totally unlike Bloomington.\n"I think the world stands pretty still during the course of five to eight months," Oates said. "I suspect I'll be surprised by how much my world at home hasn't changed when I return. The biggest changes will be in me, and that's a bit scary, I guess."\nThe students, who leave Europe in May, are alike in their sentiments that everyone should experience what it's like to be a foreigner.\n"It challenges your perception of yourself and your understanding of other people in the world," Keating said. "It amazes me how much I define myself and other people by what we say and how we say it."\n-- Contact Staff Writer Nate Gowdy at ngowdy@indiana.edu.