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(06/19/03 12:17am)
Life is about choices. Life is about decisions. Life is about selecting our preferences, about identifying our preferences, about defining our opinions.\nFrequently these choices are dichotomous, between two things or beliefs or even people. We must, for example, choose between IU or that smelly hole in West Lafayette (as distinguished from that smelly hole in South Bend).\nOr we must decide whether we want soup or salad with dinner, then whether we want clam chowder or French onion soup. Wait, I'm sorry, freedom onion soup.\nOr we must choose between the beautiful blond and the ravishing brunette. Sad to say that, at this point, I am not confronted with this decision. I only have one choice, and there's no hair on it, despite the warnings our parents gave us when we were 12.\nHere, then, are some other crucial two-option decisions we might face in our lives:\nPaul songs or John songs -- Do we like "Help" or "Yesterday?" "Strawberry Fields Forever" or "Penny Lane?" "Happiness is a Warm Gun" or "Blackbird?" Essentially, this choice comes down to whether we prefer cutting, hard-edge rock 'n' roll or sappy, melodramatic pop pabulum.\nShelley Long or Kirstie Alley -- For me, this decision can be made by examining their careers outside of a Boston barroom. They both starred in their own painfully unfunny sitcoms. They both had woeful, aborted movie careers that involved inane comedies and their even more inane sequels. This could go either way. \nBrooklyn or Los Angeles -- Dem Bums epitomized brotherhood and social justice. Their West Coast descendents epitomized the closing of a golden era, the end of innocence, the triumph of the almighty dollar over community loyalty. You make the call.\nBon Scott or Brian Johnson -- Which nasally, screeching AC/DC lead singer do we want to hear? Since I would much rather listen to "Night Prowler" than the "You Shook Me All Night Long" for the 1,596,934th time, I'll take Bon.\nCatholicism or Protestantism -- This, as we know, is a historically volatile subject. However, there's really not too much difference between these two branches of Christianity. After all, both Catholics and Protestants believe everyone besides them are going to Hell. \nJay Leno or David Letterman -- On this one, I encourage you to write in Jon Stewart.\nMichigan or Ohio State -- Of course, this is like choosing between SARS or monkey pox, but we need to select the lesser of two evils. The question, then, becomes: which one clobbered IU by only four touchdowns as opposed to seven?\nHall or Oates -- This one's for the women (or, according to Alfred Kinsey, 10 percent of the men). Alternate questions could be "Loggins or Messina" or "Seals or Crofts."\nNASCAR or IROC -- Inbred rednecks driving around in circles or snooty Europeans driving around in circles.\nKirk or Picard -- This is a tough one, especially for socially stunted, reality-challenged misfits, otherwise known as Trekkies.\nClassic country or modern country -- We can go with earnest, gritty, heartfelt American heritage or soulless, corporate, cookie-cutter sludge.\nDemocrats or Republicans -- Which conniving, centrist, group- thinking bunch of spineless phonies beholden to corporate America do you feel best represents you?\nGillian Anderson or any other woman on the planet -- I think the choice is obvious.\nWile E. Coyote or Roadrunner -- That bird deserves to be a pot pie.\nElvis Presley or Chuck Berry -- A fat, drugged-out, racist cracker who ripped off everybody else's songs or the true King of Rock and Roll. You choose.\nOther crucial decisions include East Coast/West Coast, Daphne/Velma, Jon/Ponch, Marvel/DC, Peter Gabriel/Phil Collins, pudding/Jello, hamsters/gerbils (that one was suggested by Richard Gere), Jennifer Lopez/anyone with talent, North Dakota/South Dakota (for all you white separatists out there) and, finally, my column/Sominex.\nSo do not take these decisions lightly. Make sure to ponder them carefully, because you might always regret taking the wrong path -- like Darth Vader or Geraldo Rivera.
(06/05/03 5:45am)
Bnny Wailer is perhaps an overlooked legend, a reggae icon who sometimes gets pushed to the side when the conversation turns to more well-known artists (and former Wailers bandmates) like Bob Marley and Peter Tosh.\nBunny Wailer -- often called Jah B -- helped produce two immortal Wailers albums (Catch a Fire and Burnin') before setting out on his own, at first as a solo artist with Island Records, then with his own label, Jamaica-based Solomonic. Since then, he has earned three Grammys and the adulation of world-music fans across the globe.\nCrucial! Roots Classics and Retrospective are both reissues from the vaults of the Shanachie label, and they both show why Wailer has become a revered figure. From lovely ballads like "Redemption Song" to potent social statements like "Free Jah Jah Children," he lays down tracks that more than hold their own compared to the more popular classics by Marley and Tosh. They certainly have a legendary feel.
(06/05/03 5:37am)
A few years ago, when I was a reporter at an alternative weekly in upstate New York, I landed the interview of a lifetime. After weeks of e-mails, phone calls and faxes, after a serious duration of schedule-juggling and agent-schmoozing, I finally had individual, personal, one-on-one-time (well, as personal as a long-distance telephone service can get) with the Man himself. I interviewed Weird Al Yankovic.\nIt was perhaps the most nervous I have ever been as a working journalist (even more than when, for the Health pages, I was doing first-person account of a trip to the proctologist). And why shouldn't I have been shaking in my size 12s? Weird Al is nothing less than a living legend, an icon who spans genres and generations, styles and societies. He's a person who has often been a cultural weathervane, telling the masses which way the winds of cool and hip are blowing.\nOK, yeah, you can kindly stop laughing now.\nPerhaps -- PERHAPS -- I might have overstated Weird Al's importance. A little bit. Maybe. But my overall point -- that Weird Al Yankovic's impact on American pop culture should not be underestimated -- remains steadfast. It would be impossible to name another musical act, whether it be serious artists (like the Rolling Stones, U2 or George Clinton) or a comedy act designed to make people laugh (like Limp Bizkit or Nelly), who, in the course of his or her career, has shown proficiency in virtually all the styles of modern music.\nEven though he's goofing, Al and his band know how to play. And yes, I have seen them live. They're actually pretty good. They know how to spoof everything from metal to '50s doo-wop, hip hop to lounge-lizard jazz, the Kinks to Coolio and Michael Jackson to Metallica. And, lest we forget, the man knows how to thrown down some serious polka.\nWeird Al has been lurking through the popular music universe since 1979, when he recorded his first parody, "My Bologna," a goof of the Knack's "My Sharona." And, just two weeks ago, he issued Poodle Hat, his 11th full-length release. The disc has been in the news because, apparently, Eminem is such a respected and revered artist of the highest caliber that he refused to give his OK to a Weird Al video spoofing Eminem's "Lose Yourself," an Oscar-winning song that we all know is the greatest musical statement since "Hey Jude" and should be played on endless repeat on the next unmanned space module designed to search for and greet intelligent life on Pluto.\nDuring the intervening quarter century, Al has consistently kept the pop music world on its collective toes by poking and prodding at the songs we love, the songs that we believe are the best humanity has to offer at the present time. Weird Al keeps everyone in the music industry -- and all of us who absorb what that industry belches out -- honest by occasionally reminding us that the stuff we think is so wonderful, the stuff we believe we cannot live without, isn't all that important in the grand scheme of the cosmos.\nWe Weird Al fans all have our favorite Al tracks. Some favor the pure parody of "Like a Surgeon" or "Pretty Fly for a Rabbi," while others prefer Al's original creations, like the family-road-trip epic "The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota." \nMy personal favorite is "One More Minute," an Al original that spoofs 1950s and '60s male vocal group ballads. In it, the protagonist expounds on all the icky and horrible things he would rather do than spend one more minute with his hated ex. It features one of my favorite lyrics of all time: "I'd rather clean all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with my tongue / Than spend one more minute with you."\nIt's lines like that that made me nervous when I talked to Weird Al Yankovic. Because, way deep down, I've been there. We've all been there. Al knows our soft spot.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
A few years ago, when I was a reporter at an alternative weekly in upstate New York, I landed the interview of a lifetime. After weeks of e-mails, phone calls and faxes, after a serious duration of schedule-juggling and agent-schmoozing, I finally had individual, personal, one-on-one-time (well, as personal as a long-distance telephone service can get) with the Man himself. I interviewed Weird Al Yankovic.\nIt was perhaps the most nervous I have ever been as a working journalist (even more than when, for the Health pages, I was doing first-person account of a trip to the proctologist). And why shouldn't I have been shaking in my size 12s? Weird Al is nothing less than a living legend, an icon who spans genres and generations, styles and societies. He's a person who has often been a cultural weathervane, telling the masses which way the winds of cool and hip are blowing.\nOK, yeah, you can kindly stop laughing now.\nPerhaps -- PERHAPS -- I might have overstated Weird Al's importance. A little bit. Maybe. But my overall point -- that Weird Al Yankovic's impact on American pop culture should not be underestimated -- remains steadfast. It would be impossible to name another musical act, whether it be serious artists (like the Rolling Stones, U2 or George Clinton) or a comedy act designed to make people laugh (like Limp Bizkit or Nelly), who, in the course of his or her career, has shown proficiency in virtually all the styles of modern music.\nEven though he's goofing, Al and his band know how to play. And yes, I have seen them live. They're actually pretty good. They know how to spoof everything from metal to '50s doo-wop, hip hop to lounge-lizard jazz, the Kinks to Coolio and Michael Jackson to Metallica. And, lest we forget, the man knows how to thrown down some serious polka.\nWeird Al has been lurking through the popular music universe since 1979, when he recorded his first parody, "My Bologna," a goof of the Knack's "My Sharona." And, just two weeks ago, he issued Poodle Hat, his 11th full-length release. The disc has been in the news because, apparently, Eminem is such a respected and revered artist of the highest caliber that he refused to give his OK to a Weird Al video spoofing Eminem's "Lose Yourself," an Oscar-winning song that we all know is the greatest musical statement since "Hey Jude" and should be played on endless repeat on the next unmanned space module designed to search for and greet intelligent life on Pluto.\nDuring the intervening quarter century, Al has consistently kept the pop music world on its collective toes by poking and prodding at the songs we love, the songs that we believe are the best humanity has to offer at the present time. Weird Al keeps everyone in the music industry -- and all of us who absorb what that industry belches out -- honest by occasionally reminding us that the stuff we think is so wonderful, the stuff we believe we cannot live without, isn't all that important in the grand scheme of the cosmos.\nWe Weird Al fans all have our favorite Al tracks. Some favor the pure parody of "Like a Surgeon" or "Pretty Fly for a Rabbi," while others prefer Al's original creations, like the family-road-trip epic "The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota." \nMy personal favorite is "One More Minute," an Al original that spoofs 1950s and '60s male vocal group ballads. In it, the protagonist expounds on all the icky and horrible things he would rather do than spend one more minute with his hated ex. It features one of my favorite lyrics of all time: "I'd rather clean all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with my tongue / Than spend one more minute with you."\nIt's lines like that that made me nervous when I talked to Weird Al Yankovic. Because, way deep down, I've been there. We've all been there. Al knows our soft spot.
(06/05/03 4:00am)
Bnny Wailer is perhaps an overlooked legend, a reggae icon who sometimes gets pushed to the side when the conversation turns to more well-known artists (and former Wailers bandmates) like Bob Marley and Peter Tosh.\nBunny Wailer -- often called Jah B -- helped produce two immortal Wailers albums (Catch a Fire and Burnin') before setting out on his own, at first as a solo artist with Island Records, then with his own label, Jamaica-based Solomonic. Since then, he has earned three Grammys and the adulation of world-music fans across the globe.\nCrucial! Roots Classics and Retrospective are both reissues from the vaults of the Shanachie label, and they both show why Wailer has become a revered figure. From lovely ballads like "Redemption Song" to potent social statements like "Free Jah Jah Children," he lays down tracks that more than hold their own compared to the more popular classics by Marley and Tosh. They certainly have a legendary feel.
(02/06/03 5:00am)
The references to Neil Young and Crazy Horse pepper the press material for Kathleen Edwards' debut album, Failer. It seems Zoe Records wants desperately to connect its 24-year-old chanteuse to Young, one of the godfathers of the singer-songwriter genre who has become both endearing and hackneyed. But linking anyone, especially an untested artist like Edwards, to a (deservedly) hallowed icon like Young can be tricky. The comparison sets a practically unreachable standard, placing the bar so high that almost anything the new artist releases turns out to be a letdown. While Failer is by no means a letdown, it doesn't really stand out among the multitudes of roots-rock-folkie types that have sprouted since Young, Gram Parsons and the handful of others who laid the groundwork 36 years ago. Compared to more established singer-songwriters like Fred Eaglesmith or Steve Earle or even Tracy Chapman, Edwards, at least in this early stage of her career, doesn't warrant such lofty comparisons. Edwards shows a great deal of promise and a great deal of talent. Just give her a little while to create her own niche.
(02/05/03 7:01pm)
The references to Neil Young and Crazy Horse pepper the press material for Kathleen Edwards' debut album, Failer. It seems Zoe Records wants desperately to connect its 24-year-old chanteuse to Young, one of the godfathers of the singer-songwriter genre who has become both endearing and hackneyed. But linking anyone, especially an untested artist like Edwards, to a (deservedly) hallowed icon like Young can be tricky. The comparison sets a practically unreachable standard, placing the bar so high that almost anything the new artist releases turns out to be a letdown. While Failer is by no means a letdown, it doesn't really stand out among the multitudes of roots-rock-folkie types that have sprouted since Young, Gram Parsons and the handful of others who laid the groundwork 36 years ago. Compared to more established singer-songwriters like Fred Eaglesmith or Steve Earle or even Tracy Chapman, Edwards, at least in this early stage of her career, doesn't warrant such lofty comparisons. Edwards shows a great deal of promise and a great deal of talent. Just give her a little while to create her own niche.
(01/30/03 5:00am)
For the last 15 years Pete Townshend has been the center of my musical universe. Since my days as a high school sophomore, Townshend -- the driving force behind the Who -- has been my idol and my hero. His music and his words, his complexities and catharses, his passion and his pain have inspired me, even helped me to survive during some pretty dark times. And now all of that has come crashing down.\nOn Jan. 13, British police arrested Townshend on suspicion of possessing, making and distributing child pornography. He went through a lengthy round of questioning before he was released on bail and told that more questioning could follow. He has yet to be charged with any crime. (Under British law, suspects frequently are arrested but not immediately charged with any crimes and are often released without being charged at all.)\nTownshend was one of more than 1,300 people who were nabbed in Operation Ore, a massive investigation of child porn in England.\nTownshend has stated publicly that although he did access a child porn site with a credit card, he did so as part of his research for an autobiography in which he will address the abuse he himself suffered as a child. He has said that he vehemently opposes child pornography and hopes that his work will help combat it.\nFor now I believe my hero. I believe he is not a monster, that he actually wants to eradicate the crimes of which he has been suspected. For now, I will have faith.\nBut that doesn't mean the last few weeks have been easy. I have tried to imagine not being a Who fan, tried to imagine dropping Who's Next and Quadrophenia from my life, imagine never again listening to and being moved by "So Sad About Us" or "Baba O'Riley" or "The Real Me."\nBut I just cannot do it. \nThe Who and Pete Townshend have been such an integral, even essential part of my life that, if the suspicions of Townshend turn out to be true, I fear I won't be able to continue my life as it has been. If he is found to be guilty of these hideous crimes, my existence will be fundamentally and forever altered.\nThat is because after nearly 10 years of depression and crippling self-doubt that has nearly taken my life on several occasions, I find in Townshend a kindred spirit, someone who, through his music, shares the same confusion and disillusionment and frustration.\nBut Townshend has also been an inspiration for me. Two decades ago he managed to overcome the alcoholism and drug addiction that for years had slowly destroyed his life. It was a personal victory that I often looked to when I was feeling particularly hopeless and helpless. Townshend's consistent and passionate support of numerous charities, including several children's charities, taught me that no matter how much I might be struggling with things in my life, there was always time, energy and money that could be spent helping others.\nOf course, Townshend did some stuff that pissed me off as well, for our heroes are rarely perfect. His last few solo albums have been disappointing, and he continues to sell off rights to his songs, which have showed up in commercials for, among other things, luxury cars and allergy medication.\nI just accepted these weaknesses, these missteps, just as I learned (and am still learning) to accept my own flaws and failures without turning them into destructive and pointless self-hatred.\nBut now Townshend is suspected of committing transgressions that make bad albums and Claritin commercials pale in comparison. If he is eventually found guilty, that is something I will not be able to accept, no matter how much I love his music, no matter what his words and notes mean to me, no matter how he has helped me survive in the past.\nIf that happens, I fear that I will be lost.
(01/29/03 11:42pm)
For the last 15 years Pete Townshend has been the center of my musical universe. Since my days as a high school sophomore, Townshend -- the driving force behind the Who -- has been my idol and my hero. His music and his words, his complexities and catharses, his passion and his pain have inspired me, even helped me to survive during some pretty dark times. And now all of that has come crashing down.\nOn Jan. 13, British police arrested Townshend on suspicion of possessing, making and distributing child pornography. He went through a lengthy round of questioning before he was released on bail and told that more questioning could follow. He has yet to be charged with any crime. (Under British law, suspects frequently are arrested but not immediately charged with any crimes and are often released without being charged at all.)\nTownshend was one of more than 1,300 people who were nabbed in Operation Ore, a massive investigation of child porn in England.\nTownshend has stated publicly that although he did access a child porn site with a credit card, he did so as part of his research for an autobiography in which he will address the abuse he himself suffered as a child. He has said that he vehemently opposes child pornography and hopes that his work will help combat it.\nFor now I believe my hero. I believe he is not a monster, that he actually wants to eradicate the crimes of which he has been suspected. For now, I will have faith.\nBut that doesn't mean the last few weeks have been easy. I have tried to imagine not being a Who fan, tried to imagine dropping Who's Next and Quadrophenia from my life, imagine never again listening to and being moved by "So Sad About Us" or "Baba O'Riley" or "The Real Me."\nBut I just cannot do it. \nThe Who and Pete Townshend have been such an integral, even essential part of my life that, if the suspicions of Townshend turn out to be true, I fear I won't be able to continue my life as it has been. If he is found to be guilty of these hideous crimes, my existence will be fundamentally and forever altered.\nThat is because after nearly 10 years of depression and crippling self-doubt that has nearly taken my life on several occasions, I find in Townshend a kindred spirit, someone who, through his music, shares the same confusion and disillusionment and frustration.\nBut Townshend has also been an inspiration for me. Two decades ago he managed to overcome the alcoholism and drug addiction that for years had slowly destroyed his life. It was a personal victory that I often looked to when I was feeling particularly hopeless and helpless. Townshend's consistent and passionate support of numerous charities, including several children's charities, taught me that no matter how much I might be struggling with things in my life, there was always time, energy and money that could be spent helping others.\nOf course, Townshend did some stuff that pissed me off as well, for our heroes are rarely perfect. His last few solo albums have been disappointing, and he continues to sell off rights to his songs, which have showed up in commercials for, among other things, luxury cars and allergy medication.\nI just accepted these weaknesses, these missteps, just as I learned (and am still learning) to accept my own flaws and failures without turning them into destructive and pointless self-hatred.\nBut now Townshend is suspected of committing transgressions that make bad albums and Claritin commercials pale in comparison. If he is eventually found guilty, that is something I will not be able to accept, no matter how much I love his music, no matter what his words and notes mean to me, no matter how he has helped me survive in the past.\nIf that happens, I fear that I will be lost.
(01/23/03 5:00am)
In Seattle, between Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain, there was Ann and Nancy Wilson. In the 1970s, the Wilson sisters, inordinately inspired by Led Zeppelin, mastered the art of the cheesy riff and became the queens of arena rock, rivaling macho male groups like Foreigner, Journey and REO Speedwagon. During that period they created only one truly great song, "Barracuda," among a slew of middling, overplayed yawners like "Crazy on You," "Magic Man" and "Heartless." Things didn't get much better when the group experienced a major revival in the '80s, starting in 1985 with its eponymous debut for Capitol. Again, only a single worthwhile song, "What About Love?," was produced, although for several years the sisters Wilson put a large handful of songs on the charts. \nWith this two-CD compilation spanning their entire career, the sisters are revealed for what they are: earnest, hard-working, well-intentioned women who never really escaped the paralyzing prison of classic-rock radio. At the very least, their effort should be applauded. At the time, the Wilsons, despite their subpar music, served as role models for countless aspiring female musicians. That is a worthy legacy.
(01/22/03 8:59pm)
In Seattle, between Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain, there was Ann and Nancy Wilson. In the 1970s, the Wilson sisters, inordinately inspired by Led Zeppelin, mastered the art of the cheesy riff and became the queens of arena rock, rivaling macho male groups like Foreigner, Journey and REO Speedwagon. During that period they created only one truly great song, "Barracuda," among a slew of middling, overplayed yawners like "Crazy on You," "Magic Man" and "Heartless." Things didn't get much better when the group experienced a major revival in the '80s, starting in 1985 with its eponymous debut for Capitol. Again, only a single worthwhile song, "What About Love?," was produced, although for several years the sisters Wilson put a large handful of songs on the charts. \nWith this two-CD compilation spanning their entire career, the sisters are revealed for what they are: earnest, hard-working, well-intentioned women who never really escaped the paralyzing prison of classic-rock radio. At the very least, their effort should be applauded. At the time, the Wilsons, despite their subpar music, served as role models for countless aspiring female musicians. That is a worthy legacy.
(01/22/03 12:13am)
There is little doubt that Common is one of the most respected artists in hip hop today. He's so highly regarded that a slew of high-profile stars lined up to appear on his latest CD, Electric Circus. The list of guests is indeed impressive: Bilal, Prince, Jill Scott, ?uestlove, Erykah Badu, Mary J. Blige, Cee-Lo and Pharrell Williams, along with one or more members of P.O.D., Stereolab and Zap Mama. Unfortunately, it is often this rich diversity of talent that props up an album that, for the most part, is a disappointment, especially compared to its masterful predecessor, 2000's Like Water for Chocolate.\nElectric Circus is one of several heavily anticipated hip-hop albums to come out in the last months of 2002. Recent releases include the Roots' Phrenology and Talib Kweli's Quality. That is both good and bad for Common. On the positive side, the recent flood of progressive, adventurous hip hop is reassuring proof that the genre is still developing and evolving, and that Common remains in the pantheon of forward-looking hip-hop artists. Even Common himself acknowledges the importance of moving on to new things; on "I Am Music," he raps: "Hip hop is changing / Y'all want me to stay the same?" \nHowever, it also means that Electric Circus has been and will be judged in comparison to, say, the Roots' new album, which is a much better effort than Common's. Both albums mine similar artistic territory - atmospheric soundscapes that would make Brian Eno proud. While small doses of such ambience can be creative and refreshing, it often obscures the underlying beats. The result, especially on Electric Circus, is drifting, sometimes unfocused music that fails to consistently hold the listener's attention.\nFor example, the album's last two cuts, "Jimi Was a Rock Star" and "Heaven Somewhere," would be alluring and seductive - if they both weren't more than eight minutes long (did somebody say Yes?). On "Jimi," the talents of Erykah Badu are drowned out by the messy cloud of sound that pervades the track, while "Heaven" starts out as a beautifully swirling bit of magic but eventually just drifts into an inconclusive nothingness. This is not stuff you'd find on Top-40 radio.\nThat's not to say that the album lacks standout tracks. Perhaps the strongest cut "Come Close," an affecting, pretty ballad featuring vocals by Blige, who helps to bring out Common's introspective side. He raps, "You help me to discover me / I just want you to put trust in me."\nThere are also a fair amount of surprises along the way. "I Am Music," for example, features a horn section that, thanks to the inventive presence of Greg Tardy's cornet, evokes images of 1920s-era Louis Armstrong and the Hot Five. Combined with Jill Scott's inspiring vocals this is one of the strongest tracks on the CD.\nBut overall there are not enough surprises to prevent the album from getting, well, boring, and if there's one thing hip hop should never be, it's boring. It's too bad that an artist of Common's skill, talent and vision should release an album that just falls as flat as Electric Circus. If this is what the best has to offer, what hope should we have for everyone else?
(01/16/03 5:00am)
There is little doubt that Common is one of the most respected artists in hip hop today. He's so highly regarded that a slew of high-profile stars lined up to appear on his latest CD, Electric Circus. The list of guests is indeed impressive: Bilal, Prince, Jill Scott, ?uestlove, Erykah Badu, Mary J. Blige, Cee-Lo and Pharrell Williams, along with one or more members of P.O.D., Stereolab and Zap Mama. Unfortunately, it is often this rich diversity of talent that props up an album that, for the most part, is a disappointment, especially compared to its masterful predecessor, 2000's Like Water for Chocolate.\nElectric Circus is one of several heavily anticipated hip-hop albums to come out in the last months of 2002. Recent releases include the Roots' Phrenology and Talib Kweli's Quality. That is both good and bad for Common. On the positive side, the recent flood of progressive, adventurous hip hop is reassuring proof that the genre is still developing and evolving, and that Common remains in the pantheon of forward-looking hip-hop artists. Even Common himself acknowledges the importance of moving on to new things; on "I Am Music," he raps: "Hip hop is changing / Y'all want me to stay the same?" \nHowever, it also means that Electric Circus has been and will be judged in comparison to, say, the Roots' new album, which is a much better effort than Common's. Both albums mine similar artistic territory - atmospheric soundscapes that would make Brian Eno proud. While small doses of such ambience can be creative and refreshing, it often obscures the underlying beats. The result, especially on Electric Circus, is drifting, sometimes unfocused music that fails to consistently hold the listener's attention.\nFor example, the album's last two cuts, "Jimi Was a Rock Star" and "Heaven Somewhere," would be alluring and seductive - if they both weren't more than eight minutes long (did somebody say Yes?). On "Jimi," the talents of Erykah Badu are drowned out by the messy cloud of sound that pervades the track, while "Heaven" starts out as a beautifully swirling bit of magic but eventually just drifts into an inconclusive nothingness. This is not stuff you'd find on Top-40 radio.\nThat's not to say that the album lacks standout tracks. Perhaps the strongest cut "Come Close," an affecting, pretty ballad featuring vocals by Blige, who helps to bring out Common's introspective side. He raps, "You help me to discover me / I just want you to put trust in me."\nThere are also a fair amount of surprises along the way. "I Am Music," for example, features a horn section that, thanks to the inventive presence of Greg Tardy's cornet, evokes images of 1920s-era Louis Armstrong and the Hot Five. Combined with Jill Scott's inspiring vocals this is one of the strongest tracks on the CD.\nBut overall there are not enough surprises to prevent the album from getting, well, boring, and if there's one thing hip hop should never be, it's boring. It's too bad that an artist of Common's skill, talent and vision should release an album that just falls as flat as Electric Circus. If this is what the best has to offer, what hope should we have for everyone else?
(12/12/02 5:20am)
A few months ago, the Roots played a blistering set at Summer Stages, the Indianapolis music festival. The intense, high-energy show proved that, at its best, modern hip hop is not just a studio phenomenon. It also showed that the Roots are perhaps the premier practitioners of honest-to-goodness live hip hop, a band that does not depend on producers and studio tricks to display its greatness.\nWhile they tried admirably, the Roots fail to capture that live magic on their oft-delayed, highly anticipated latest studio release, Phrenology. Named after a long-discredited and often-racist brand of science that attempted to measure mental ability through the study of the shape and irregularities of the skull, the album presents the band members trying to match the brilliance of 1999's Things Fall Apart.\nPhrenology features a few changes to the group's line-up after the recent, tension-filled departure of rapper Malik B. and the arrival of rock guitarist Ben Kenney. With its latest release, the band has produced a sprawling, intensely personal work containing several hits but also a few misses. \nThe CD features some rousing gems. The insistent, urgent beats of "Rock You" set the tone for the album, while "Thought @ Work" is a wonderfully noisy, frenetic cut that features jazzy samples and complex rhythms. The best track on the CD is "The Seed (2.0)," an earnest, rocking cut featuring lovely vocals by guest Cody ChesnuTT and sublime guitar work by Kenney.\nBut the centerpiece of the album is "Water," a 10-minute-plus epic that at times sounds vaguely like it belongs on David Bowie's Heroes. It's brooding, atmospheric and ambitious; it's also a bit unfocused and meandering.\nBut even though "Water" and a few other tracks go astray, overall Phrenology is better than 95 percent of the hip hop on the market today. While it's not the classic Things Fall Apart was, and while it can't measure up to the Roots' incredible live shows, Phrenology is still essential listening for anyone searching for more than what the often-shallow plethora of pop hip hop can offer.
(12/12/02 5:07am)
I don't like mob movies. Alleged classics like "The Godfather" and "Goodfellas" glorify organized crime and make heroes out of the lowest scum of the earth.\nI also don't like sequels. Very few movies have been so good that they warrant a second installment, yet the money-grubbing makers of many of the films that don't usually unleash unspeakable suffering on gullible filmgoers by putting out sequels that are scarier than Eugene Levy's back.\nSo when I walked into the theater to see "Analyze That," the movie already had two strikes against it. Its forerunner, "Analyze This," was funny because it successfully poked fun at the Mafia, an organization that deserves more scorn and ridicule than Christina Aguilera. Could the ever-overrated Robert DeNiro and Oscar-hosting schlep Billy Crystal work miracles again?\nNope, not really. "Analyze That" takes the first film's one-joke premise -- a beleaguered psychiatrist giving therapeutic advice to an anxiety-ridden mob boss -- and drives it into the ground. The result is a markedly unfunny movie with a limp plotline and scattershot attempts at humor.\nThe movie starts with jailbird and former wise guy Paul Vitti (DeNiro) feigning catatonia in an effort to secure early release. The authorities dispatch Vitti into the care of his shrink, Dr. Ben Sobol (Crystal), who himself is dealing with the recent death of his overbearing psychiatrist father.\nThe result is a disjointed mess featuring rival mobsters, high-speed chases and a Sopranos-ish TV show for which Vitti lands a job as a consultant. The film's fatal flaw could be that DeNiro and Crystal don't interact as a comic duo nearly as much as they did in "Analyze This." It also lacks the type of well-defined bad guy that Chazz Palminteri played in the original.\nAs a result, the movie, lacking a coherent focus, founders aimlessly from lame joke to lame joke. The film manages to elicit a few chuckles, but not enough to outweigh a bad script and tepid direction. Plus it has Lisa Kudrow. 'Nuff said.
(12/12/02 5:00am)
I don't like mob movies. Alleged classics like "The Godfather" and "Goodfellas" glorify organized crime and make heroes out of the lowest scum of the earth.\nI also don't like sequels. Very few movies have been so good that they warrant a second installment, yet the money-grubbing makers of many of the films that don't usually unleash unspeakable suffering on gullible filmgoers by putting out sequels that are scarier than Eugene Levy's back.\nSo when I walked into the theater to see "Analyze That," the movie already had two strikes against it. Its forerunner, "Analyze This," was funny because it successfully poked fun at the Mafia, an organization that deserves more scorn and ridicule than Christina Aguilera. Could the ever-overrated Robert DeNiro and Oscar-hosting schlep Billy Crystal work miracles again?\nNope, not really. "Analyze That" takes the first film's one-joke premise -- a beleaguered psychiatrist giving therapeutic advice to an anxiety-ridden mob boss -- and drives it into the ground. The result is a markedly unfunny movie with a limp plotline and scattershot attempts at humor.\nThe movie starts with jailbird and former wise guy Paul Vitti (DeNiro) feigning catatonia in an effort to secure early release. The authorities dispatch Vitti into the care of his shrink, Dr. Ben Sobol (Crystal), who himself is dealing with the recent death of his overbearing psychiatrist father.\nThe result is a disjointed mess featuring rival mobsters, high-speed chases and a Sopranos-ish TV show for which Vitti lands a job as a consultant. The film's fatal flaw could be that DeNiro and Crystal don't interact as a comic duo nearly as much as they did in "Analyze This." It also lacks the type of well-defined bad guy that Chazz Palminteri played in the original.\nAs a result, the movie, lacking a coherent focus, founders aimlessly from lame joke to lame joke. The film manages to elicit a few chuckles, but not enough to outweigh a bad script and tepid direction. Plus it has Lisa Kudrow. 'Nuff said.
(12/12/02 5:00am)
A few months ago, the Roots played a blistering set at Summer Stages, the Indianapolis music festival. The intense, high-energy show proved that, at its best, modern hip hop is not just a studio phenomenon. It also showed that the Roots are perhaps the premier practitioners of honest-to-goodness live hip hop, a band that does not depend on producers and studio tricks to display its greatness.\nWhile they tried admirably, the Roots fail to capture that live magic on their oft-delayed, highly anticipated latest studio release, Phrenology. Named after a long-discredited and often-racist brand of science that attempted to measure mental ability through the study of the shape and irregularities of the skull, the album presents the band members trying to match the brilliance of 1999's Things Fall Apart.\nPhrenology features a few changes to the group's line-up after the recent, tension-filled departure of rapper Malik B. and the arrival of rock guitarist Ben Kenney. With its latest release, the band has produced a sprawling, intensely personal work containing several hits but also a few misses. \nThe CD features some rousing gems. The insistent, urgent beats of "Rock You" set the tone for the album, while "Thought @ Work" is a wonderfully noisy, frenetic cut that features jazzy samples and complex rhythms. The best track on the CD is "The Seed (2.0)," an earnest, rocking cut featuring lovely vocals by guest Cody ChesnuTT and sublime guitar work by Kenney.\nBut the centerpiece of the album is "Water," a 10-minute-plus epic that at times sounds vaguely like it belongs on David Bowie's Heroes. It's brooding, atmospheric and ambitious; it's also a bit unfocused and meandering.\nBut even though "Water" and a few other tracks go astray, overall Phrenology is better than 95 percent of the hip hop on the market today. While it's not the classic Things Fall Apart was, and while it can't measure up to the Roots' incredible live shows, Phrenology is still essential listening for anyone searching for more than what the often-shallow plethora of pop hip hop can offer.
(11/14/02 5:06am)
Tracy Chapman's Let It Rain, the sixth album in a career that rocketed to prominence in 1988 with a powerful, eponymous debut and spiked again with 1995's bluesy New Beginning, is dark.\nAt least it sounds dark. Dour strings, sparse arrangements and doleful vocals combine to produce an album that, at first listen, sounds almost like a dirge mourning the loss of happiness, or, as suggested in the aptly titled "In the Dark," innocence: "Make my mind unable / To force the body to do its will / Let it be right for belief and denial / To share a space in the heart and leave us only to imagine / About the things some do in the dark."\nAnd the mournful mood continues through the somber yet uptempo "Goodbye," which laments a remorseful breakup, and "Almost," which details the pain of a happiness that comes so close, but eventually slips through one's fingers. Even a song titled "Happy" is turned into a forlorn experience as it chronicles the way some people fight hard to avoid love. "Some can see the face of love," Chapman sings, "and turn away in disbelief."\nOf course, there is nothing wrong with all this sadness. In fact, as always, Chapman's brooding lyrics and moody introspection is a big part of what makes her such an appealing troubadour. She, like very few artists are able, can delve inside the farthest reaches of the heart and of the soul and bring all that darkness to light.\nThat doesn't mean that Let It Rain's consistently solemn tone doesn't weigh heavily on the listener, who is left praying for at least one ray of sunshine. And that reprieve only comes at the very end of the CD, with the rejuvenating optimism of "I am Yours": "When time decides / It won't stop for me / When the hawks and vultures / Are circling / I am yours / If you are mine." It's a reassuring way to finish an emotionally draining experience.
(11/14/02 5:00am)
Tracy Chapman's Let It Rain, the sixth album in a career that rocketed to prominence in 1988 with a powerful, eponymous debut and spiked again with 1995's bluesy New Beginning, is dark.\nAt least it sounds dark. Dour strings, sparse arrangements and doleful vocals combine to produce an album that, at first listen, sounds almost like a dirge mourning the loss of happiness, or, as suggested in the aptly titled "In the Dark," innocence: "Make my mind unable / To force the body to do its will / Let it be right for belief and denial / To share a space in the heart and leave us only to imagine / About the things some do in the dark."\nAnd the mournful mood continues through the somber yet uptempo "Goodbye," which laments a remorseful breakup, and "Almost," which details the pain of a happiness that comes so close, but eventually slips through one's fingers. Even a song titled "Happy" is turned into a forlorn experience as it chronicles the way some people fight hard to avoid love. "Some can see the face of love," Chapman sings, "and turn away in disbelief."\nOf course, there is nothing wrong with all this sadness. In fact, as always, Chapman's brooding lyrics and moody introspection is a big part of what makes her such an appealing troubadour. She, like very few artists are able, can delve inside the farthest reaches of the heart and of the soul and bring all that darkness to light.\nThat doesn't mean that Let It Rain's consistently solemn tone doesn't weigh heavily on the listener, who is left praying for at least one ray of sunshine. And that reprieve only comes at the very end of the CD, with the rejuvenating optimism of "I am Yours": "When time decides / It won't stop for me / When the hawks and vultures / Are circling / I am yours / If you are mine." It's a reassuring way to finish an emotionally draining experience.
(10/31/02 6:58am)
Last year, I got sucked into watching "The Triangle," a dopey made-for-cable movie about a ghost ship. That one starred TV wash-ups Luke Perry and Dan Cortese. Then my brains turned to tapioca and I found myself watching "Lost Voyage," yet another made-for-cable movie about a ghost ship. That little masterpiece starred TV wash-ups Judd Nelson and Janet Gunn. Both movies were tedious and meandering, but hey, I was the numbnuts who watched them. Both of them.\nNow, more than a year later, I was faced with another movie about a ghost ship, this one creatively titled "Ghost Ship" and starring TV wash-up Julianna Margulies. The only difference between this theatrical release and those two boob-tube classics is several choice four-letter words and a whole lot of gore. By the bucketful.\nA crack marine salvage crew skippered by Murphy (Gabriel Byrne) is presented with an offer by Munder (Karl Urban), a pilot who has apparently discovered a luxury liner that disappeared without a trace 40 years ago. The deal: Munder and the crew members will, according to international marine law, split whatever booty they find on the ship.\nThe crew sets out for the frigid Bering Sea and climbs aboard the mysterious ship. The members of the boarding party eventually discover crates full of gold bouillon and think they have struck it rich.\nThat's when the goofy (and allegedly scary) stuff starts happening. Boats explode, people die and crew member Epps (Margulies) receives spiritual advice from a creepy dead girl. \nFrom the pointlessly bloody opening scene (one out-of-control ship cable and a whole lot of severed torsos) to a muddled climax that had something to do with pure evil (I think it did, anyway. I wasn't really paying attention), "Ghost Ship" actually made those TV movies look good. The acting was stilted (led by a comatose Margulies and an obviously bored Byrne), the script was mundane and the effects were non-existent.\nSo, perhaps, "Ghost Ship" was the final part of my masochistic marine trilogy. Hundreds of corpses and a half-dozen ex-TV actors later, I still feel like I'm adrift, lost on a sea of mediocrity, inanity and some seaweed. And I'm starting to get queasy.
