‘Summer ‘04′ DVD review (Detroit Metro Times)

Think of the worst summer vacation you ever had. Even if it went beyond National Lampoon’s Vacation awfulness, it’s still unlikely that it was bad as the holiday the grumpy 15-year-old boy in Summer ‘04 had. Not only does he have to deal with the realization that his 13-year-old girlfriend is kind of a slut, but also that the older man she falls for ends up shtupping the boy’s mom. Yeah, that’s pretty bad, right? This German film dives gleefully into its mission of discomforting morality-smashing, summed up beautifully when Dad mutters, “Who are we to judge?” The creepy, sexualized teenagers are only the beginning of the spine-chilling weirdness at play here, as director Stefan Krohmer plunges mom Miriam (played to disaffected perfection by Martina Gedeck) into a traumatic bit of adultery that has her ping-ponging between maternal responsibility, wifely devotion and Teutonically hot sex. Krohmer — just like his near-namesake Eric Rohmer — has produced a morality play with decidedly vague morals. The director infuses all of Miriam’s relationships with a sublime balance of sweetness, romance and loyalty, so the viewer winds up as torn as she is when it comes to deciding exactly what the right thing to do is. While the tension builds up within the family unit, poor 15-year-old Nils’ vacation just keeps getting worse and worse, but hey, who are we to judge?

First appeared July 31, 2008 in Detroit Metro Times.

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David Bowie: Live – Santa Monica ‘72 CD review (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

It’s nearly laughable that this album is being marketed as “previously unreleased.” Bowie’s 1972 show at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium is perhaps one of the most-bootlegged concerts of the rock era, seen by most fans as the ultimate statement of what Bowie offered live in the ’70s. Broadcast on the radio, there was no chance for Bowie (or his label) to second-guess the performance, and therefore this concert has long overshadowed official releases like the sterile Stage (1978 ) and the stilted performance quality of 1974’s David Live. Bootlegs aside, the album got an official (or at least semi-official) release in the ’90s, thanks to the shady machinations of Bowie’s former management company. So “previously unreleased” must just mean that this is the first time Bowie’s been able to cash in on the show since the tickets were ripped. Regardless of its rarity or lack thereof, Santa Monica ‘72 is justifiably legendary and should stand as the gold standard for live recordings. Very few major rock acts have successfully captured their stage presence on disc, and Bowie — given the highly theatrical nature of this Ziggy Stardust tour — had a higher bar than most. Still, what’s often overlooked about this era of Bowie performance is that it was a positively electric brand of bracing rock ‘n’ roll he delivered. The Spiders From Mars are in full gear here, easily enlivening tracks like “Andy Warhol” and “Life on Mars” to a level that energizes the first half of the set. By the time the show winds up with a barreling run-through of “The Jean Genie,” “Suffragette City,” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide,” Bowie and the Spiders are on a tear, dishing up vibrant and full-bodied rock that needs no costume — or second guesses — to validate it.

First appeared July 31, 2008 in Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

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Return to Forever show preview (Orlando Weekly)

Of all the groups that sprung to life from the fevered loins of Miles Davis’ 1970s fusion experiments – from the grinding prog rock of Tony Williams’ Lifetime to Herbie Hancock’s Headhunters – Return to Forever was the wonkiest. This titanic collision of hyper-proficient players produced overly complex tunes that tried gamely to be both funky and propulsive, but often sounded like music-school experiments. This reunion tour brings together the so-called classic lineup of Chick Corea, Al Di Meola, Stanley Clarke and Lenny White, but Corea’s trademark angularity chisels away any of the fluidity one would expect from White, while enabling Di Meola and Clarke to engage in the worst kind of notes-per-second gamesmanship. Now that these guys are all old men … sorry, respected elders, it’s more than likely that this reunion tour will evince even more of those tendencies.

First appeared July 31, 2008 in Orlando Weekly.

‘Hellboy II: The Golden Army’ movie review (Baltimore Citypaper)

For such an inelegant lug of a hero, Hellboy sure does inspire Guillermo del Toro to create some baroque and near-magical settings for him. Whether it’s a degenerate bazaar that’s half Diagon Alley and half Mos Eisley or Hellboy’s beautifully rendered foes–from a monstrous forest god and tiny demonic “tooth fairies” to the titular army of Rube Goldberg killing machines–the sequel to del Toro’s 2004 Hellboy may not live up to its predecessor’s level of wit, but it more than matches the original’s visual flair. Del Toro again affords plenty of space for Ron Perlman’s dry, guileless comic delivery as the titular character, but Hellboy’s one-liners and “flawed” character traits are very nearly subsumed in all the filigreed set dressings and CGI effects. The thing that made the first Hellboy such a joy was the way del Toro balanced the questionable personality of a funny and brave but generally unlikable character with the idea that there’s a transcendent, invisible world where good and evil fight right underneath our noses. That idea is sharpened to the point of silliness in Hellboy II, but it hardly matters, as del Toro delivers a movie that breezily manages to be as funny and humane as Iron Man but with far more visual imagination.

First appeared July 16, 2008 in Baltimore Citypaper.

Sonic Youth: Master-Dik EP and J’Accuse Ted Hughes EP CD review (Blurt)

These two EPs provide an interesting insight into the band’s legacy. In the case of the reissue of 1987’s Master-Dik, one is reminded of how much venom Thurston & Co. once engendered; the MRR screed by Ben Weasel that was reprinted in the original edition reappears, sellout comparisons to REO Speedwagon intact, but it’s the Sun Ra/Sonny Sharrock name-drops within the songs that refocus just how this rock band’s avant-dilettantism was frowned upon by jazz snobs and prog-rock aficionados.

In the case of J’Accuse Ted Hughes – a vinyl-only outing consisting of two tracks recorded in 2001 – Sonic Youth is now an established legacy act, improv credentials confirmed, and fully emboldened to embark upon 20-minute journeys into restless space-jams. Ironically, it’s the Master-Dik EP that’s the bolder of the two. After a more beatbox-y version of the Sister track is laid down, and a cover of “Beat on the Brat” is rushed through, the band embarks upon a cut-and-paste collage that’s pretentious, immature and completely good-natured. In contrast, the sprawling noisemospherics on the newer EP are beautiful improvisations that are completely humor-free.

Standout Tracks: “Beat on the Brat” (Master-Dik), “Agnes B Musique” (J’Accuse Ted Hughes)

First appeared July 2008 at Blurt.

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Buy J’Accuse Ted Hughes at Amazon.com.

Patti Smith feature/review of ‘The Coral Sea’ (Blurt)

2008 is shaping up to be a banner year of sorts of Patti Smith. Not that she needs banners, parades, or the like, of course. But just in the first six months she’s already been the subject of three books, one about her first album (33 1/3’s Horses, by Philip Shaw, currently reviewed in BLURT’s books section), one a career overview/analysis (Praeger’s The Words and Music of Patti Smith, by Joe Tarr), and one a paperback edition of her Auguries of Innocence poetry book (Ecco Press). There are two more volumes due this year as well: Land 250, a collection of her photography being published to commemorate a Smith exhibition which ran March 28 – June 22 at the Fondation Cartier Pour L’Art Contemporain in Paris; and Patti Smith: Dream of Life, a photography book by filmmaker Steven Sebring intended to serve as a companion piece to his documentary of the same name.

Sebring’s film was recently featured at the Philadelphia and Sundance Film Festivals (it won an award for cinematography at the latter) and will premiere at New York City’s Film Forum. The first officially sanctioned Smith documentary, it’s scheduled to run from August 6 to August 19, and it clearly marks a cinematic arrival of sorts for Smith — not that she needs an arrival, introduction or the like, of course. (BLURT readers can get a taste of it by viewing the trailer in our Video Section.) Perhaps even more significant is the fact that on May 16, Smith was honored by Rowan University in Glassboro, NJ, granting her an honorary Doctor of Letters degree in recognition of her success in the fields of music, literature and art.

Meanwhile, there’s this new double-CD that arrives in stores next week, a collaboration between Smith and My Bloody Valentine’s Kevin Shields. It’s the latest entry in Smith’s ever-expanding CV, although it probably won’t provoke fan excitement along the levels of, say, Horses or the Sebring film. Indeed, there’s a nagging sense listening to The Coral Sea (PASK) that it should be … well, better. The knot of anticipation collaboration like this evokes is really almost ridiculous. Smith. Shields. A poetic homage to Robert Mapplethorpe. Two separate, hour-long performances. This, this meeting between the great 20th century punk poetess and the deified master of postpunk guitar atmospherics, it should transport me, yes?

Sadly, it does not. It’s through no fault of Smith or Shields, though. This two-disc presentation of two live performances of Smith’s “The Coral Sea” (one from 2005, one from 2006; neither substantially different in tone from the other) finds the both of them digging deep into their artistic hearts to deliver the goods. Smith’s emotional state is predictably tense, empathetic and defiant. Shields’ guitar work is surprisingly emotional and gently improvisational.

Yet, in much the same way that the book is always better than the movie, the Loveless better than the live show, The Coral Sea is ultimately a failure of format. Leafing through the open, airy pages of Smith’s 1996 book, you get a sense of the epic scope of this poem that tells of a metaphorical journey, but the words are also lent an additional, individual weight. There’s no distraction of sound, no inflection of voice to impart unnecessary and inappropriate context. When listening to The Coral Sea – rather than reading it – one is continually easing into Smith’s vocal rhythm or getting lost in the gelatinous noise emanating from Smith’s guitars. That’s not to say that these aren’t effective performances. They are, indeed. It’s just that this piece of poetry is both delicate and dense and hearing it is a totally different (and somewhat disorienting) experience than reading it.

[Note: the PASK label is an imprint created by Smith and Shields, but at present there is no PASK website. Patti Smith’s official site is at www.pattismith.net and Shields is via the My Bloody Valentine site, www.mybloodyvalentine.net.]

[Photo Credit of Smith and Shields: Matia Zopellaro/RETNA]

First appeared July 2, 2008 at Blurt!.

Buy The Coral Sea at Amazon.com.

Frontiers: A Tribute to Journey show preview (Orlando Weekly)

In their search for a new lead singer, the members of the current Steve Perry–less Journey extended an offer to Jeremey Hunsicker, frontman of Journey tribute band Frontiers. Despite being praised by Neal Schon as a dead ringer for Steve Perry, Hunsicker turned down the offer from his idols in order to be a dad. Which is admirable on a whole lot of levels. When fronting a tribute band, if you can say that you rebuffed an offer from the band to which you pay tribute (and be able to credibly laugh off that Filipino YouTube guy who finally got the gig) … well, that’s a kick in the pants, innit? Hunsicker somehow got a writing credit on the real Journey’s new Wal-Mart-only album, but he gets far more enjoyment out of filling clubs with his sound-alike (if not look-alike) act. In a twisted way, that may make Frontiers the coolest cover band around.

First appeared July 9, 2008 in Orlando Weekly.

Alkaline Trio show preview (Orlando Weekly)

As Alkaline Trio has moved further and further away from their early days as the leaders of the drunk-and-loud flank of the eyeliner-emo brigade, they’ve turned off both their disaffected teenage fan base and the permanently adolescent grown-ups who dug their highly melodic spin. Alkaline’s 2005 album, Crimson, contained gasping greatness; enough of their early snarl was intact, making it harder to notice that the soaring, arena-ready melodies that long ago were but an ironic hint have become the band’s stylistic centerpiece. Crimson was a fork in the road, after which the band could have continued on a path of well-crafted, melodic punk dripping with sarcasm and dark rage, or embarked upon My Chemical Romance–style punk-rock pantomime. With this month’s Agony & Irony – produced by Josh Abraham (Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park) and released on Epic Records – they’ve obviously chosen the latter. But to what end? They may have sold out, but they’re gonna have trouble cashing the check.

First appeared July 17, 2008 in Orlando Weekly.

Niyaz: Nine Heavens CD review (Orlando Weekly)

L.A.-based ethno-techno group Niyaz garnered considerable acclaim for their 2005 self-titled debut. Its fusion of chilled, exploratory beats (courtesy of Grammy-nominated producer-remixer Carmen Rizzo), intricate song craft (thanks to Iranian rocker Loga Ramin Torkian) and the richly textured, polyglot vocals of Iranian-Indian singer Azam Ali made for beguiling listening that was mellow without being passive and exotic without being condescending. The balance of Ali’s Urdu-inspired lyricism and Rizzo’s contemporary electronica garnered most of the attention, but the group’s well-arranged songs were the real key to the solidity of the album.

On Nine Heavens, Niyaz sets out to prove that point. Presented as a two-disc set, the album boldly delivers nine “electronic” tracks on the first CD and eight “acoustic” versions on the second. The reason for the scare quotes? Because none of the songs on the first disc are purely techno-based; they benefit mightily from the warm, organic sound that is Niyaz’s hallmark. Likewise, the cuts on the second disc are far from the simple, sparse voice-and-guitar approach commonly associated with acoustic songs. In fact, as lovely and sonically rich as the first disc is – particularly the overwhelming “Ishq” – it’s the homespun arrangement and instrumentation on the second disc that makes Nine Heavens spectacular.

With a panoply of Middle Eastern and South Asian instruments at work in tandem with strong percussion, the absence of Rizzo’s electronic flourishes is hardly noticeable; the cuts still ebb and flow with rhythmic virtuosity. With the real instruments front and center, the vibe is more insistent and less ambient, similar to Terry Hall’s semi-electronic experiments with Turkish sounds.

For a group with their reputation cemented, Niyaz took a risk with this second disc, but it paid off beautifully. Hopefully, Nine Heavens will stand as a fork in their discography, and their future releases will continue down this path.

First appeared July 17, 2008 in Orlando Weekly.

Buy this CD at Amazon.com.

‘Dalí in New York’ DVD review (Detroit Metrotimes)

This 1965 film by Jack Bond comes across as the height of casual salon-borne iconography. Brimming with proto-psychedelic flourishes and post-Beat Generation cool, Dalí in New York is a portrait of the surrealist at the peak of his popularity, not to mention self-assuredness. Dalí is supremely aware of his image as an artistic provocateur and seems determined in the film’s several “interview” sessions (which are more like charged roundtables where the artist swats down various criticisms and misinterpretations of his work) to make good on his reputation as a weirdo. The painter’s canvases during this period shared this self-aware sense of “weirdness,” and it’s interesting that most of the works Bond chooses to show throughout Dalí in New York are from the previous decades. Dalí by this point is much more concerned with a sort of postmodern presentation of himself, and the various pieces of performance art he undertakes in the film — lip-kissing Michaelangelo’s David, covering himself in dollar bills and ants — are more the actions of an aging huckster than a paradigm-smashing visionary. It’s never clear if Bond himself was in on the joke, or simply enraptured by proximity to Dalí, but the film that he created with Dalí’s cooperation does as much to lionize its subject as it does to ridicule it. Which is probably something Dalí would have heartily approved of.

First appeared July 10, 2008 in Detroit Metrotimes.

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