Dischord

Feeling funky today, kids. One of the joys of working in an office is the sharing of germs. Hopefully the sickness and ensuing medicine won't make me too groggy but I'll try to get this written as quickly as I can, regardless, so forgive any cold/flu induced delirium.

I spent yesterday's post writing about a guilty pleasure, so I figure why not keep a good thing going? Today's post is about a piece of music's forgotten lore, Garbage's self titled debut album. I only use the term guilty pleasure here, though, because of the fact that it seems to be largely forgotten by the quickly shifting focus of our collective media-memory. I suppose there was also the stigma of being in a small town where it was considered unusual to like music that wasn't country or any kind of oldies, but that's really beside the point. Rather than bore you with my own tales of growing up in the middle of nowhere I'll settle for telling you about this awesome and neglected album that deserves more attention and respect. 

A sekrit favorite band of mine over the years, Garbage has origins that belie the typical 'friends jamming in a garage' story we've all heard so many times. Formed by a collection of veteran producers in the early 90s, the band was essentially a passion project for all involved, creating demos of their material in the spaces between regular production work. Butch Vig, whose work and reputation I've written about before, started the group with fellow Smart Studios producer Steve Marker and longtime mutual collaborator Duke Erickson, of the groups Spooner and Firetown. Rather than rob their own coffers for remixing other people's work, the three kept the material they were recording for themselves, all while keeping an eye out for a unique voice to compliment the sound they were creating. They found it in Scottish singer Shirley Manson, who left her own floundering career in the UK (mildly successful acts Goodbye Mr. Mackenzie and Angelfish) to audition for the group. Having made a good impression, she was welcomed to the fold and the group set to work on what would be their first album, written and recorded largely in Wisconsin. 

The self titled album was an unexpected success. Riding in on the post-grunge alternative wave, Garbage had a refreshingly pop sound that brought the group widespread acclaim with massive radio hits like "Stupid Girl" "Vow" and "Only Happy When It Rains". By the mid 90s the country was tired of the dreary, angry tunes that had swept the 80s away. Grunge was on its way out, strange things were coming in. Pop punk was making huge waves with the likes of Rancid and The Offspring, Oasis released their career-defining What's The Story Morning Glory, and (good god) Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morrisette came out that year, if that's no indication of the change. See what happened? Kurt Cobain died and took a lot of the self-loathing attitude with him, apparently. I wince at typing that, but the fundamental shift in popular music just a year after his death is remarkable. Radiohead released The Bends, No Doubt put out Tragic Kingdom, The Foo Fighters' excellent (and also under appreciated) first album debuted. Man, crazy year. In the midst of it, Garbage came out swinging with music that feels like it wasn't just written but designed from the ground up to catch you off guard. Almost lost in the sea of amazing music released in 1995, their debut album instantly clicked with my musical tastes, both fitting into them and expanding them. 

The whole record is a fantastic piece of buzzy, edgy pop music that I still thoroughly enjoy today, 16 years later. Having veteran musicians backing the sultry Manson, it's no surprise the album has such a polished and fully realized sound, all buzzing guitars and thumping percussion. The bass bubbles just under the surface on every track. From the agressive and pushy album opener "Supervixen", to the throbbing "Heaven Is Wide", the songs breathe with their own lives. "Queer" was my bumping and humming intro to trip hop. The power-pop of "Not My Idea" punches you right in the ear. I remember hearing it at 13 and being amazed at the strange sound - a total shift from the angry grunge I loved but not the insipid pop on the local radio stations, it was a bizarre hybrid of the two. "Vow" has an disorienting intro of guitars flying from one headphone to the other, leading into a crunching chorus of crazy catchy chords. The single "Stupid Girl" is heavy disco drums and a leaping bass line, covered by a light and hooky, jangly guitar line over the top. Through all this Manson coos and growls, hisses and snaps. Never sticking to a single style, she gives every song her all, the passion of a band's make-or-break opportunity going to full throttle. The album ended up selling over 4 million copies and starting the band down their twisting path of group tensions followed by uneven, if at times amazing, follow-ups. 

This album, while a mega seller, gets little to no love today. Sure, you hear one of their early singles on the radio once in a blue moon but it seems to be one of those albums that came, made a big impact then faded into the woodwork all too soon. It really deserves another listen, I'm sure it's in your itunes or kicking around your cd collection - put it on and see what sold in 1995. It's phenomenal.

Re-re-revisted

Welcome back to the work week and if you're observing it - Happy Valentine's Day. To alleviate what is no doubt a total overload of hearts and chocolate today's post is not relevant to the holiday at all.

You may remember this column I wrote a few weeks ago about my love for fan edits and how they can give a fresh take on familiar territory. I mentioned toward the end of it that I had just picked up the entire Matrix series on Blu Ray and would be offering my thoughts on how it had aged and what it was like in light of the edit. What I found was about what I expected, although there were a few surprises as well. 

I was bonkers for the series as soon as it unfolded. I remember being so excited upon receiving a VHS of the first movie as a Christmas gift. I relished seeing the sequels in the theater, controversial reception or not. What was fun about this recent viewing of the series was the novelty of a new format and a renewed interest in the movies, as almost ten years had passed. It turns out The Matrix still holds up incredibly well - even after it has been endlessly parodied and ripped-off by every diluted iteration of science fiction and action movies. In fact a great deal of the first installment is so intelligent and well made that I don't think the Wachowski brothers had any idea they would have the impact they did. Not unlike Red Letter Media's side-splitting take on the Star Wars saga (that George Lucas' own hubris was his own downfall, essentially) the underdog status of The Matrix and it's out-of-left-field success are what brought such critical acclaim. It was almost inevitable that the sequels would turn out to be so transparently indulgent and over the top - you have a runaway, unexpected success and you follow it up by further indulging what you assume to be the best instincts that got you there in the first place. Again, my Apologist nature for defending flawed media rears its head. 

But I digress. 

What I found to be of particular highlight was watching the movie through a new format. Home viewing in the late 90s was a different beast, especially when I went off to college. I never saw the first movie in a theater. For me The Matrix was a private, basement movie that was only seen on VHS and TV screens only slightly larger than today's pc monitors. Perfectly satisfactory for the time but not ideal for really appreciating what you were seeing. Furthermore, having owned it on VHS right before DVD became the norm defeated the possibility of double dipping. So I waited for the right time. The transition, then, to the hi-definition of Blu Ray on a great, big, wide-screen TV was astounding. It honestly felt like I was watching a new movie. Details I had never seen jumped out, tones and movements were totally fresh - the energy and detail was amazing. This movie was so smart and well done that I wondered how I had gone so long with out watching it just for kicks. I guess it becomes like living in a tourist city - you're around a thing so much that it becomes humdrum. Everyone parodied it and copied the aesthetic that it stole the essence of what was already a pastiche or homage. Watching it ten years later with renewed clarity gave the movie a chance to breathe. I would definitely watch it again, if my Netflix cue wasn't overflowing. 

The sequels...they're more of a curiosity. My article on fan edits definitely was prescient to the movies at hand. As I stated earlier, the two movies (Reloaded and Revolutions) were filmed back to back and the story they tell is a single, overstuffed tale of multiple developments and confusing twists. I thoroughly enjoyed them in the theater but hadn't really gone back to watch them in earnest in quite a while. This lack of motivation to revisit them may have been the first sign they weren't as engrossing as their predecessor. Seeing the fan edit that removed most of the 'fluff' of the movies (all of the material outside the titular matrix) significantly warped my recollection. Seeing them now, unadulterated in glorious hi-def really made the differences apparent. While I was still engaged by the philosophical concepts put to good use (which greatly expand on the original's themes of identity, self, karma and reality) I was much more aware of how massively fleshed out and drawn out the movies became. Some sequences, to be candid,  absolutley killed the momentum. I wanted to see these movies for heady mind trips and visually astounding kung-fu and gun fights, not political discourse on how to defend a drab colony of unhappy people from flying robots. That has too be one of the most unusual sentences I've typed in a half-hearted defense of a guilty pleasure. 

Granted I tried to watch the sequels as close together as possible, to further the notion that it's actually one 4.5 hour sequel, which would be draining and too long regardless of content. I can't watch the original trilogy of Star Wars straight through, let alone what are already view as flawed, if niche, films. Still, seeing them in their entirety in this eye-catching format was refreshing. The distinction between theatrical experience and home viewing is eroding with every passing upgrade and I have to admit I am quite enamored with watching a movie at home where I can - 1. pause when I please 2. have a cocktail 3. wear some quality headphones (I live in a condo) 4. not be interrupted by other people in the theater. I probably sound like I'm fussy and you're probably right for thinking that. But with these concessions in mind, the experience, though wearing towards the end, was still enjoyable and worthwhile. I'm still happy I shelled out for the whole set, especially for the bargain they go for now.

I'm sure from the mixed signals I'm sending in this post it doesn't really come across as the strongest endorsement of the trilogy. I haven't even touched on all the crazy bonus features or the phenomenal universe-expanding Animatrix. I suppose the driving point of today's post is that, while the sequels are definitely flawed films, I still love this whole series, warts and all. From the groundbreaking first installment to the satisfying and insightful climax that sees the concepts through to their logical conclusions, it still is a heady, intelligent set of movies. Even the fact that the third installment spends a fair amount of time dwelling on men yelling as they fire machine guns at CGI robots (my nerd self questions my own skepticism here), I find myself enjoying it all the way through. My inner nerd still obsesses about the philosophical implications put forth - man's relationship to machines, whether love exists solely as a concept or as a word, does agape love mean more than society. I love that the commentary tracks for these movies have both critics who disliked them and philosophers that loved them, to allow you to create your own triangulated take on what unfolds. It's this sprawling amount of extras that still reels me in.


See all that? That's my Apologist side coming out again. I'll let the movies speak for themselves. At this point you either love them or hate them. Either way, I'd say take another look, just to see what they look like now.

Short and Simple

Hello kids!

Like I thought, today was a busy and frenetic day, resulting in no proper post. I do feel bad about it, no doubt. My own life is interfering with my ability to post consistent, quality content. That doesn't mean I can't put something up, though. I just won't ramble on for 1000 words without a clear vision. Low time means low volume, as it is.

So what's a short and simple rave about something I love and think everyone needs to know about? 

Easy, Breville's Panini Press!

A gift from some very kind and thoughtful people, this piece of magic will absolutely change the way you cook. Whether or not you love a good sandwich (but who doesn't love sandwiches? WHO!?) this thing will make you want to live off of nothing but breads and cheeses. I can't even tell you how many meals I have made that involve only pumpernickel-rye bread, Gruyère and a little olive oil. Okay, there's typically some red wine in there as well, but it pairs so well!

It's so easy and simple to make unbelievably fantastic food with the Panini Press. It's like an over-sized Foreman Grill and I mean this in the best possible way. Throw the sandwich in, give it a couple minutes and presto - a delicious little dinner. Your options are limited only by your imagination. This morning, I may or may not have tried to make a panini with an egg in it...

You can do other things in it besides sandwiches. I have tried burgers but the ensuing clean-up was a bit more than the pay-off in my mind. Regardless, this is an excellent addition to any kitchen. While not a bargain by normal definitions, I feel like it's worth the price of admission. If you, like any sane human, enjoy the "adult's grilled cheese" as my friend Sam calls them, give it a whirl.

Tomorrow brings another normal week. Content should come back to more of a consistent, quality level we've all grown accustomed to. I appreciate your patience for these truncated updates. Stick around, I'll see you tomorrow!

Light Hearted Night

Evening!

Tonight I'm doing an early Valentine's celebration and you probably are too. So here's a light and  easy post of some of my favorite web comics that will be good for a laugh. If you have no V-Day plans, screw it! Here's some links to make you laugh and feel better!

First and foremost, XKCD is one of my favorites. Insightful and witty, you can expect lots of math and coding related jokes with a fair amount of acerbic wit.

The Oatmeal is another fantastic site with less frequent but amazingly funny material. Anything from fresh takes on air travel to advertising and why your cat is trying to kill you.

Penny Arcade are legends on the web. Known mostly for their work in the medium of video game critique and praise, they have  a storied and amazingly charming backlog.

Looking for quick bites of insanity and absurdist humor? Check out Toothpaste For Dinner and their sister sites, Natalie Dee and Married To The Sea. They all have independent if equally skewed senses of humor.

Like I said, short but sweet update with lots of love for amazing web comics. These sites are all well known in their respective fields, but the more love they get, the merrier. Give them a read and see what strikes you as funny. Something in there will, I guarantee.

Tomorrow may be another truncated post, depending on what I can get accomplished with another project. Stay tuned and check back in on Sunday night!

Warm Fuzzy Viewings Trois

Cold, quiet days here in Minneapolis. Makes the brain slow down. It's always dark this time of year, although the sunlight increases by tiny increments each day. How do you fight the monotony? It's a weeknight, you're exhausted, you can barely muster up the motivation after work to make dinner. What's to be done? 

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed and take in another Warm, Fuzzy Viewing. 

Today's entry is another one of many stellar Simpsons episodes. Mountain of Madness first aired over 14 years ago, during the series' eighth season, in what some consider to be the end of the 'Golden Era' of the show - just after the astoundingly good run of seasons 4-6, but just starting the season that gave us the fan-infuriating Frank Grimes. Personally I feel this is still in a good phase of the show, and arguements have been made on the internet about how what that magical, untouchable era constitutes and how it collectively is pushed forward with each passing year. As the show grew from its initial roots, fans said season 4 was too wacky and season two had the most heart. Back when season 7 was airing, it was the third season people claimed to be the best. When Homer went into space as an astronaut it was only season five! What I'm struggling to express here is that the show quickly became a source of insanity and fevered online debate. No matter the nerdly anger about perceived dips in quality, I still love it no matter the percieved quality changes. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but this particular episode was never a stand out, either. It was a middle of the pack offering, broadcast February 2nd, 1997, set in both winter and containging a hidden passage of sorts.   

Regardless of my Apologist stance on the Simpsons and my unwavering fanboy status, today's Warm Fuzzy Viewing is Mountain of Madness. One of the rare episodes that contains snow but not Christmas, it starts of with a fire drill that takes much longer than it should.

Mr. Burns: Is it supposed to take this long? What's a good time for a mass evacuation of the entire plant?
Smithers: 45 seconds.
Mr. Burns: And what's our time so far?
Smithers: I don't know, sir. This stopwatch only goes up to 15 minutes. 

Eventually Homer makes it out and barricades the door behind him, trapping his panicking coworkers. After the rest of the Nuclear Plant's crew has made it out (a great unspoken gag here being the broken second floor window, a couch having been thrown through it) Burns declares their ability to work together atrocious. A team building exercise is to be held on Mt. Springfield. It will be a pairs' race to the top, with the last team to arrive being fired. The Simpson clan drives up for the exercise, their car careening around the frozen parking lot like a pinball until it comes to a stop in the middle of the lot. Soon they get down to business at hand.

Burns: "This will be an ardous climb, one of the most grueling tasks man can...Simpson, did you bring your family?"

The Simpson clan head into the park's informational cabin to waste the day and the Nuclear Plant's team pairs off. Through the requisite twist of fate, Home is partnered up with Mr. Burns and Smithers is left on his own. Apparently Burns felt Smithers had "been a bit of a pill, lately." The teams start their journey and the adventure begins. Soon after the race starts, however, Burns uses a bit of wordplay and charm to convince Homer they should use a snowmobile to speed to the top, as it is Man using the best of his skills to cheat if possible. They beat all the other teams and arrive soon after.

Mr. Burns: We have several hours before the others arrive, let's say we get comfy. (turns on the fuse box) Now we have electricity. (turns on the gas) This propane tank will supply us with heat. And this doorknob, properly turned, will allow us access to the cabin. 
Homer: No going through the window for us!

As they sit back and relax before the buffet spread out before them (Burns: "From the highest pharoh to the lowest serf, who doesn't enjoy a good sit?") they toast to their success. The vibration of the glasses clinking sets off an avalanche, unfortunately, and Burns and Homer find themselves trapped in the cabin under tons of snow. Dementia quickly sets in and the pair descend quickly into madness, each creating snowmen for company. Their imaginations seizing control, they become paranoid and agressive. When Burns threatens Homer, he taunts him with "You and what army?" and immediately imagines an army of angry snowmen behind Homer. He panicks and screams "Stay back! I have powers, political powers" which Homer promptly sees as snow-versions of Mao Zedong, Abraham Lincoln, Ramses, Ghandi and Teddy Roosevelt. It's an inspired bit of lunacy, this cabin fever.

Somewhere around this time Lenny and Carl arrive on scene to find...nothing. They muse that maybe the cabin "was a metaphor, to find a better place inside all of us." Carl disagrees. "Nah, they said there'd be sandwiches." Figuring out something is amiss, Marge, a mountain ranger and the kids head out into the mountain forest to dig them out. 

As far as WFVs go - we have the snow/avalanche, we have a secret space (the cabin) and Homer attempts an escape tunnel. Not the strongest candidate for a WFV but it's a great episode with two strong elements that qualify this one.

Who will survive and what will be left of them? Will Homer and Burns tear each other to pieces? How does a rocket cabin fit in? And do the employees no longer get sandwiches? Tune in to find out!

Culture-ing

Like I said yesterday, no legit posting begets a double session for today. In the first post we're looking at a sekrit favorite movie of mine, Spirited Away.


I had at most a passing familiarity with Anime. Like many who had no interest in it, I viewed it like a lot of people view sushi if they've never tried it - not for me, those that probably like it really love it and it might be okay if I just work up the nerve to try it. Of course I love sushi, having dove headlong into the wonderful world of sushi it was only a matter of time before the same sort of thing happened again. On a friend's recommendation I had picked up a copy of Akira, the prototypical anime production based on the sprawling graphic novel about the aftermath of World War 3 and post-human developments. While I understand a great deal was simplified and simply cut altogether, it was a paradigm shift for me, as I had been a child when it was first released in America and had no exposure to it growing up in rural Wisconsin. When I finally saw it it was like nothing I had seen at that point. Words won't really do it justice here, but suffice to say the themes and imagery, no matter how intense or over the top, were vivid, distinct and visceral. Still, there were some cultural idiosyncrasies I didn't pick up on, so repeated viewings, particularly on a larger TV, really paid off in enlightening what I was seeing. 

I thoroughly enjoyed it, although I found myself drawn more to the quiet moments, the mood of the tension and lulls in action. When the same friend heard this, he said he knew just the movie for me to see - Spirited Away. Trusting the excellent recommendations previously, I once again dove in, picking it up on a whim. I was enthralled by what has turned out to be a personal favorite of mine, a quirky and quiet movie about growing up and letting go, while figuring out who you are. 


Ostensibly a children's movie, it was released to wide acclaim in Japan and picked up for distribution here in the States by my beloved Pixar, whom I feel can do no wrong. By the time I bought the DVD it had already won the second ever Oscar for Animated Movie, was the first Anime movie to be nominated and the only foreign language film to win for Animated movie, ever (this was all right on the box art, lest I dismiss it). The work of Hayao Miyazaki and produced by the always quality Studio Ghibli, the Japanese equivalent of Steven Spielberg or Brad Bird working with their respective Disney/Pixar proxy, it was his first film after a brief break in his career, having already made major success with previous works like My Neighbor Totorro, Porco Rosso and the mild American breakthrough Princess Mononoke. In his home country this movie was a blockbuster, surpassing rival Titanic and grossing over 300 million world wide. In actuality anyone from anywhere else than the US probably thinks I'm wasting my time evangelizing for this movie, but so many of my American brethren have never seen it, so I persist. It was a huge hit and Disney was giving it the push it needed here. It did incredibly well on the festival circuit and was the biggest movie in Japanese history. For it's American release it made 10 million. Yeah. Apparently not much of a market here. 

But while the box office may not have been a fertile ground for Spirited Away, home viewings are a great experience. My friend couldn't say enough good about it. So, expectations high, I watched in silence on a quiet Sunday night in the fall. It was a cool, breezy night and I had my windows open, chain smoking with my lights off. I distinctly remember the bewilderment and awe I felt over the amazing visuals - I'm sure I had a my eyebrow raised the whole time in skeptical bemusement. Start to finish it was an engrossing adventure and just like when I had first seen Akira, Spirited Away was something (no pun intended) completely foreign. I hadn't really seen anything like it. It was quiet and subtle at times, while often displaying some absolutely ethereal and appropriately other-worldly art that teased my brain with it's strange designs and choices. I clearly remember feeling anxious while watching the opening 20 minutes, wondering nervously what would happen to this defenseless but spoiled child who stumbled into a strange and unwelcoming place. I, of course, had no background in any kind of Japanese culture so the idea of the spirit world or bath houses so I assumed there was a danger and permanence to whatever happened. 


Something about the tone or the setting just hooked me and I bought it completely. While I, as a 20 something American, couldn't identify with the precocious protagonist I could certainly understand the terror of being lost in a strange place and feeling abandoned. Part of me thinks that's why Miyazaki's movies are so endearing, just like Pixar's - they may be outlandish or fantastic but they remain, at their core, unmistakably human stories that audiences are able to become invested in.  While I have obviously watched it many times since that incredible initial viewing, any time I have rewatched it has been on a quiet night, most often by myself. It probably sounds strange but it just doesn't feel like a day time movie. 

While I could continue praising this under-appreciated film, it really can stand on its own able legs. It's thoroughly fantastic and enjoyable. After all, look how much I've written without even speaking of the plot. You really owe it to yourself to just take a look, even if you have no interest in Anime in general. Take a night for this bizarre and serene adventure. It's won Oscars! What more could be said?

Another Stall

Evening, readers. 


Life is getting in the way at the moment. I had hoped to have a column done by this time but I am finding myself stymied by both a mental block and a tight schedule. There are a few things I'm working on but right now they're not fit to publish. As penance tomorrow's column will either be extended or doubled, so look for a mega post or another installment of Warm Fuzzy Viewings. 


I appreciate your patience with my lack of productivity. As a small but heartfelt thank you I offer these awesome shots I took of the city this summer while attending a friend's wedding. Forgive the quality, as they were taken with an iPhone 3GS (Boo!) and I may have been celebrating too much.

They were taken from a viewing room in the Guthrie and the glass afforded a crazy hue that I would've stood in front of all night had I not been at a wonderful party. While you're at it, looking at photos and all, take a look at an actual photographer's site and head over to Kate Engelmann's excellent blog. Her work is amazing and deserves a bigger audience. Check her out, I'll be back tomorrow!

Not In Season

Alright, friends and neighbors! I'm back at an actual keyboard with a real chance to sit down and type this out. Travelling was amazing but coming back to the Midwest was hard. I could feel the cold radiating through the bulkhead of the plane before we even touched down. Like a dummy, I hadn't brought a coat so my shock was even more severe. I got back to the apartment and unpacked, shivering the whole way, I shoved a couple books back onto the shelf. Something there leaped out at me. A comic that reopened the genre for me. That comic?


The Long Halloween.


Written and inked by the highly regarded team of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. Loeb and Sale are renowned for spinning excellent yarns about the Dark Knight, netting them both Eisner Awards in the process. I may be getting a bit ahead of myself here, but I assume if you're reading this blog you have at least a passing familiarity with Batman and his endeavors. Created by Bob Kane, Batman has been an anomaly in the comic industry for his nature of being a non-super hero, a man whose gadgetry and detective skills are more involved in the story than superhuman feats. Possessing a rich and immersive back story to draw on, The Long Halloween tells an epic tale of corruption and human fallibility in the city of Gotham. 

Having the origin story exquisitely retold in Frank Millar's  Batman: Year One, Loeb and Sale were approached about continuing the world set in motion in Millar's tale of gangsters and corrupt policemen. Year One was a straight-forward, old school retelling of the first year of Batman's first 12 months getting into form, becoming the figure that would stand against evil in Gotham. While the plot resolved in the collected issues there was definitely more story to tell. Mob Bosses left in power and super-criminals on the horizon remained to be taken down by the bat.


Setting this 13-issue arc into motion is the marriage of Johnny Viti, nephew of "The Roman" Carmine Falcon. Asking for for Bruce Wayne's favor on a bank vote, Falcon is rebuked and swears to investigate into the Wayne Foundation and put the screws to Bruce. A burglar on the scene sends the reception into disarray, necessitating Batman's intervention. Meanwhile Harvey Dent, nosy DA that he is, is in the garage taking down license plates on those in attendance for future record. The contrast of the two knights, and the main underlying theme of the book, is apparent here - The Dark Knight, brawling with mobsters in the office upstairs, The White Knight dutifully doing the paperwork in the parking garage and receiving a beating for his work. The disparate methods these two forces of justice approach their work with is a central theme to what unfolds and things quickly spiral out of control. Inspiring a majority of Christopher Nolan's fantastic 2008 take on The Dark Knight, The Long Halloween sets up a pact between Bats, Dent and long suffering Commissioner Gordon in a long-form plan to bring down The Roman and his family.

All sides agree to work within the law, or "bend it" at the most. As I wrote above, however, things quickly go awry and people start turning up dead. First off is Johnny Viti, shot in his bathtub. Next, the Irish gang that attempted to bomb Dent for his noble actions. On New Years, Carmine's son is shot during a party aboard the Roman's yacht. So it goes for a calendar year, an organized, calculated hit on someone involved with the mob on all the major holidays. Suspicions and paranoia run rampant. Accusations are cast. No one feels safe. The first time I read the comic I was genuinely mystified, pouring over the pages trying to suss out the person behind the Holiday Killings. Bats? Dent? Catwoman? Batman works his way through the rogues gallery of usual suspects, apprehending them all and interrogating them for whatever he can get on the matter. Joker, Riddler, Solomon Grundy, The Penguin, Scarecrow - they all make excellent appearances here, in wonderfully fleshed out versions of themselves. It's a thoroughly gripping tale of intrigue and deception, with the ending leaving your head spinning and the reader asking themselves if what they saw was true.

True to form for some of the best Batman stories, it's a full on noir comic. Pistols with serial numbers filed off, heat-waves setting the scene for smokey, booze filled weddings, footprints in the snow from criminals and confrontations in the sewers - it's all here. This hits all the hallmarks for all my favorite scenes for a story. The scenes and dialogue are incredibly dynamic and of the highest quality. The inspiration for The Dark Knight is clear throughout the book - entire scenes have been drawn upon, while motifs are apparent in others. What is essentially a crime story plays out in fantastical fashion, with a pair of twisted and obsessively driven detectives at the center. 


I honestly cannot recommend this comic enough. If you've never read a Batman comic it's a great starting point - all the major players are here with a massive yet digestible story at the heart. It's also one of the high water marks, so there are few places to go but down. If you have read anything about Batman - WHY HAVEN'T YOU READ THIS? You should know better. I'm disappointed in you. You should know better. 


For reals, yo. Read The Long Halloween. It's amazing.

Coasting

Welcome back to the normal sturm and drang of posting. I'm back in snowy, freezing Minnesota and questioning my sanity for steadfastly digging in to the climate. I've had a column in the chamber, loaded and ready to go for a day where I can't really type much of anything, so here goes.


Today we look at another of Chris Moore's excellent books, Fluke, (or I Know Why The Winged Whale Sings). It's a story of a marine biologist who investigates the mysteries of the whale song and how it dovetails with a secret as old as life itself. Let's dig in, shall we? 

Continuing in line with my precious assesment of Moore's work, Fluke is a book that is both ingenious and insane. The tale is one of conspiracies, far-out ideas on the nature of life and a demanding request of an acceptable break from reality for the reader. If you find yourself incapable of suspension of disbelief, you might consider looking elsewhere for reading material. Accordingly if you like the idea of people being swallowed by whale without ending up any worse for the wear, read on! 

Nathan Quinn is the protagonist of our story. He spends his days on the island of Maui and the surrounding water observing whales and examining their song in the hopes of deciphering what function it serves for the cetaceans. Nate serves as the level headed skeptic and grizzled veteran for the insane tale that unfolds throughout the course of the book. His donor for the funds facilitating his work is a kind-hearted but seemingly out-to-lunch New Ager who listens to whale songs, not for the mystical effects but supposedly because she hears messages. Nate figures a donor is a donor and tries not to lose patience. One day, while out with his attractive young lab assistant, Amy, he spots a fluke (whale tail, to you and me) that he swears up-and-down to say "Bite Me" in big letters across the underside. Frantically scrambling for his camera, he manages to capture a single shot of said fluke. When the developers claim they have no photos he chalks it up to his burn-out lab assistant Kona, your typical white-boy surfer who is perpetually baked. However when his lab is tossed and the research vessel scuttled, Nate begins to expect sinister things are afoot. Obviously, he's on to something, but what? Unable to secure more funding from his benefactor, Nate resolves to borrow a friend's boat. As he heads out to the open sea Nate ends up getting knocked overboard by the very same whale. Reading about it looming up behind him in the open water, jaws agape, gave me the willies. 

Gulp. 

Nate gets swallowed whole and the book subsequently gets weird. He survives the the trauma only to find himself tumbling down a rabbit hole of divergent evolution and ocean madness, or what Turunga Leela calls "The Wet Willies" or "The Screaming Moist". Nate is presumed lost at sea and his friends and colleagues assume the worst. Amy and Kona dig in to the remaining research that had been left untouched by the mysterious vandals, determined to press on with their cause. The crazy old benefactor calls from her mansion, high up on the mountain side, to say she's heard him and they need to speak right away. 

To say more about what exactly ensues would be to spoil the excellent but wholly bizarre tale of a man's quest to save himself from stranger and stranger circumstances. This book is, for lack of a better summation, utterly insane in the best way possible. If your predilection allows for some weird and wacky stuff, by all means, dig in. You will not be disappointed.

Homeward bound

Tonights the last night in San Fran. Massive day today, went to Mission Beach Cafe for breakfast, where I had the best breakfast I've had in months. They make everything they serve in house, from the english muffins to the awesomely spicy sausage. The sandwich I had had bacon and caramelized onions in a sweet and salty mix that was sublime.

Took the cable car from one end to the other, had some seafood. Went by Lombard street, walked all over the city. It was a non stop, go-go tourist day. Honestly I love this city, from everything I've seen. At the same time I can't stand these half-posts, its frustrating to not be able to write a proper post. As insane as it is to go back to the frozen tundra I look forward to being able to use a keyboard like a normal adult. Give it time. Tomorrow may be a day of travel and time zone changes but I think I can fit one in.

I wait with baited breath.