Little Monsters

Evening, kids.


How about a trip down memory lane? After all, hasn't that become a de facto theme to this site? I breakdown something we've all forgotten about while giving you a personal anecdote? On board? Good? Great. Let's do this. Today's Xmas Xception is Gremlins, a film like no other.

If you are roughly my age, there's a strong chance this movie gave you a serious case of the creeps when you were young. It was terrifying despite being oh so appealing to the youth market. Gremlins was part of that microgenre that blends horror and comedy in a subtle way. Ghostbusters was another prime example, as was the modern iteration, Shaun of the Dead. How could kids not get suckered in by the adorable Gizmo - voiced by Howie Mandel, nonetheless. Still, you break those three inscrutable, arbitrary rules and all Hell breaks loose. Nothing seemed safe as a kid after that. The little monsters were so devious! So malicious! The original draft of the screenplay was even darker, with decapitations and animal mutilations abound. Nasty stuff, eh? Of particular note was the over the top gore of the finale when a melting gremlin becomes a horrendous, dripping mess. It broke my mind as a kid. Hey, as an adult it still elicits a visceral reaction from me. Pretty killer Christmas movie, huh?

Oh, what's that? You forgot Gremlins was a Christmas movie? That's right, world. This nasty little staple of 80s horror was planted squarely in the midst of yule tide madness. I found myself forgetting that fact, only to see a clip of the movie online and I recalled all the snow and realized "Oh man, I have to watch that again! I haven't seen it in years!" Well, by a bit of serendipity that actually happened to me last Christmas. There had been some conflicts with my Christmas arrangements last year, and I ended up spending the holiday here in Minnesota while my better half saw her family in Arizona. I had to be back at the office the next day, so when I got back to my place in Uptown I grabbed my mail and headed upstairs. There, in a now defunct Netflix envelope, was Gremlins. By some excellent coincidence my DVD queue had synced up perfectly with me being all alone after Christmas. So I did what any twentysomething would do - popped it in and cracked a bottle of wine.

It was awesome.


Gremlins was cathartic and mischievous, a fantastic way to vent after the stress of the holiday. A little Cabernet Sauvingon didn't hurt either, but hey! Monsters terrorizing the town and ruining Christmas! What better way to indulge my inner (but most likely outer) child! While obviously dated and intentionally hokey and B-movie-esque at times, it still held up really, really well. I had a lot of fun poking through the memories of my previous experiences watching this movie and being do damned scared. Sounds like good holiday fun!

Oi Noise

Grumble, grumble, grumble.


My countdown of Xmas Xceptions got off to a negative start, didn't it? How's about we flip that business right on its head? Sound good? Cool, we're gonna get a little manic positivity in today's post. Coming at you from the late 90s benefit compilation, A Very Special Christmas 3, it's The Vandals' 'Oi to the World', as covered by No Doubt.

I used to love this compilation. There was a holiday season that was full to the brim with my brothers and myself jamming out to the likes of Smashing Pumpkins, Blues Traveler and Run DMC as we made our shopping runs and trips to elderly relatives. Tons of fresh takes on the old standards that were actually fun to listen to, at least back in the 90s. Good gravy am I dating myself. Anyway, one of my favorite tracks on this compilation, despite Craig's protests, was the frenetic and exuberance No Doubt cover of 'Oi to the World'.

Don't get me wrong - I love me some Vandals. Funnily enough it was my younger brother that turned me on to the legends of punk. Still, the clean, horn-infused mania of No Doubt interpreting the tale of gang rivalry totally sold the story to me. In it, we have a gritty, grimy tale of inner city punks and skinheads trying to settle their rivalry in a bloody rumble on Christmas day. Men are left beaten and broken in the gutter when a miracle happens and peace breaks out between the tribes. Gwen Stefani bleats out the tune in typical, joyous fashion. The band embraces the upbeat tone with abandon. The festive horn breakdown in the middle is unabashedly corny and awesome.

I love this song, even if it defies the holiday convention. No, scratch that - I love it because it does. It's violent and manic, intense and irreverent. The harmonies on the chorus are insane. It's unabashedly sincere, to the horror of jaded hipsters everywhere. It's the kind of thing you don't hear on the holiday station, to say the least. Need some Xmas Xuberance? Look no further.

Homeward Bound

Here we go, kids!


I mentioned something I had up my sleeve - I decided to sneak in one last themed series before the year is out. The theme, this time around? Things about the holidays that aren't insanely cloying and overdone. Things that don't adhere to the rule of making you want to bash you head in when you're forced to endure them in shopping malls. Strap in, kids. We're gonna take a look at the 12 Xmas Xceptions. First on the list? Something cynical.

I may not be the hugest fan of Blink 182 these days, but I sure used to have a soft spot for them. You get older, your tastes change. Duran Duran weren't made into mega stars by hipsters and adults - it was teens with disposable cash and incessant radios. Point being, I listened to a lot of melodic punk in high school, and I loved me some Blink. They were super catchy and accessible and irreverent, back in a more innocent time before domestic terrorism, three wars and an endless election cycle. Justification? Maybe. But I still like their holiday song 'I Won't Be Home for Christmas'. It's cynical and  passively aggresive in that "just leave me alone" sense. Perfect for the Xmas Xceptions!

Back when I first got into the band, they didn't have a huge catalogue and tons of airplay. You had to make do with what you had, which was pretty much their first two (secret best) albums and possibly some bootlegs if you could find them. I listened to them to death, waiting for more stuff to come out. When I heard about a holiday single, I was baffled. Even more so when I actually heard it on the radio. It was awesome, but infuriating - how was I supposed to track it down when it was in limited pressing and barely in any music rotation? It wasn't until years later, and some widespread commercial breakthroughs, that I heard it with any regularity. Once I got into the mp3 scene I tracked it down. It still is a staple in my custom Xmas playlists.

It's catchy, it's snarky, it's everything you'd expect from Blink in a holiday single. Major-key riffs. Palm-muted guitars. A half-time chorus. Tales of emotional distress culminating in being sent to jail and violated by cellmates. Plus, there's chimes and bells! It's good, old Xmas fun, minus the cloying, heartwarming tone. Sometimes you want to skip the festivities and ditch the obligations. We all want a night to ourselves, now and then, even around the holidays. I get it. We're just getting started, gang. Eleven more Xceptions. See you on the countdown!

Video Clipped

Moving right through the week. 

Just a short bit today, very full life and schedule. Lots of obligations. I've got many debts to keep and miles to go before I sleep. In contrast to yesterday's in-depth look at Purple by Stone Temple Pilots, today's post will be a simplified look at a song from the same era. 

Before the days of DVRs and YouTube, it was darn near impossible to find something illusive on TV. If, like me, you only had MTV to serve as an introductory source of music you had to pay rapt attention, lest you miss the little info box on the small of the screen at the beginning and end of the clip. Good luck if it was a more obscure song, too - while there were still videos on MTV at the time, they were becoming fewer and farther between. A sick day from school was a guaranteed marathon of MTV at that stage in my life - it was the only way to see some of the videos I wanted to see so badly. That's how I saw the debut of the Mentos-themed clip for 'Big Me' by The Foo Fighters, or the premiere of Green Day's dual release 'Brainstew/Jaded' when I was an obsessed young teenager. 

This unfortunate catch-as-you-can modus operandi made me into a rapt viewer. Of course, I was too stupid to write anything down, instead relying on my own intellect to recall anything worthwhile. It may have been a vain, foolhardy technique, but hey - I was 13 and it might be responsible for whatever powers of pop-culture recollection I possess today. Anyway, point is - one sunny spring afternoon I saw a video for a band called Stabbing Westward. The lead singer sounded a bit more like Ozzy than I would really prefer, but the song, at the time, was incredibly heavy and rocking. The video for the song was interesting as well, a bit of performance footage interspersed with the band watching a movie for what may have been an earlier version of the clip itself. Unfortunately the name of the song was a bit generic, to the point that I pretty much forgot it as soon as the text disappeared at the end of the clip. All I had was the band name. I filed it away in the back of my head as awesome but likely to never be heard again.

 Time passed, I found other music I was more excited about. Then, one day months after seeing the video once, I was in my dinky little music store I frequented when I saw a name that tugged at the back of my mind. It was Stabbing Westward's album, Wither, Blister, Burn + Peel. 

"It was good..." I thought of the single.

So I plunked down fourteen (14!) hard earned dollars for the album. 

The album, as a whole, was wildly uneven. That single, though - good stuff. Not $14 good, really, but pretty good when I was younger. Actually it's pretty good now. I figure by the law of averages , the price of that cd is offset by all of the free or "free" music I've obtained in the course of my life. Sometimes you have to pay in, amiright? Anyway, remembering that single and picking up the album was a good choice. I didn't really know it at the time but this was basically my first foray into the world of industrial music, even at it's most mediocre. I wouldn't get into NIN until years later.

'Shame' proved to be a decent track I kept coming back to. It's fairly de-rigeur and of-the-times with it's distorted guitars and wailing vocals, but as longs you're not looking for high art it's a fun rock track. There's a tone here that's quite appealing, something created by the verses and chorus playing off of each other, that makes an air of sleek movement and chases via hard rock of the 90s. Check it out.

Box Out

These things have a way of bleeding into each other. 


It's been a fun weekend. As much as I enjoy parties, especially holiday ones with special drinks, I had just as much fun doing errands with my better half. Somehow we always get lost in Target and end up wandering around looking for something we've passed. It's like a casino in there - shiny stuff everywhere, tons of other weirdos and no clocks or visible exits. As I write this, the melted snow and ice are slowly re-freezing. I'm not looking forward to the drive tomorrow. It's nice and dark and quiet here. It makes me want to go and re-experience Outside the Box. 

Outside the Box is one of my favorite not-so-secret things on the internet. An online flash comic (wait, please stay with me for this) created by Brendan Cahill, Outside the Box is a great way to spend a quiet night. Cahill, hailing from San Francisco  created the strip/site/flashthing back in 2002, with the first run closing out in 2004. A one shot and second run followed in the ensuing years. It's not a strict re-paneling like some of Marvel's online content, or single page, three panel affairs like Penny Arcade or The Oatmeal. Box is a moving, vibrant noir tale that just has this unassuming but totally surprising edge to it. 


Telling the tale of office drone Jamie Black as he gets caught up in the world of private detectives and mobsters and the recently deceased, Box is a solid story told in an original format. It could work as a traditional format, but the way Cahill took advantage of the limited movement gives a whole added layer of context and storytelling to this mystery. Subtle tricks like shadows moving or showing characters moving through blueprints add a cinematic aspect that would otherwise be lost on a conventional comic. Through the novel medium, we see Black slowly separate from his office job as he gets pulled deeper and deeper into the mystery unfolding around him.

A nice touch on Cahill's part was the inclusion of suggested soundtracks. More than a handful have been covered here, the usual trip hop and down tempo stuff, as well as more off the beaten path artists like Two Lone Swordsmen. Throw on some of your favorite sneaking, gumshoe-esque tunes and dive in to the motion comic. It really paid off in the end. While it may be old hand in internet parlance, it still makes for a fun, gripping ride.

Good Catch

What's good?


I'm heading out to what will be the first of a slew of holiday parties tonight. I mean, the first of the season. No party hopping for me. Just getting a jump on the season. Super excited, no joke. While I get ready, I plan on listening to something a bit odd, a lost song that fell through the cracks of the world in the 90s. It's one of my favorite hidden gems. I got it on a CD that was given to me by my older brother's friend back when I was an impressionable youth and everything everyone older than me did was irrevocably cool. 

This friend of the older, benevolent brother was as constant a source of new tunes as my brother. When he sold me a stack of CDs he longer listened to, I was (for no discernible reason) really enthralled by a sampler for a label based in New York. For years after, I was unable to find any information on who or what the album was. Only in the last few years has relevant info popped up on the Googles. At the time, though, it was this inscrutable oddity - no real story or explanation as to what it was, just a random label sampler. Sure, there were some stinkers on there, but there were some great hidden gems, too. It was from Grass Records, which later evolved into Wind-Up, which kind of solves that little riddle. According to the Wiki, there were financial problems, which may account for the lack of any information whatsoever. The sampler was called Grass of '96 and it featured what must have been the new artists of that year. 

My favorite track off the sampler was (of course) similar to Sneaker Pimps, Portishead and Massive Attack. Performing a song called 'Catch Me', Chimera popped into my life with this lone single and disappeared without a trace. From what I've found, they were an Irish band that existed long enough to put out a few albums but never had much mainstream success here in the states. Too bad, because I really still dig this song. It's always felt a bit like the typical 90s alt sound, a bit of looped drums (how edgy!) and some caterwauling distortion beneath a clean, spacey guitar line. Singer Eileen Henry had a fine voice, nothing crazy but just fine for the song, clear and emotive, high and light. 


There's no big, startling revelation to this song, or a dramatic memory attached to it. Just something that was always odd and it stood out to me as something that should have had broader success than (seemingly) me being the only person to ever hear it. I guess I got the sampler around fall/winter, so it pops back into my mind this time of year. Give it a listen and see what I'm rambling about. Hopefully you dig it like I did.

Deep Thoughts

So here we find ourselves, back at the weekend.


This week was incredibly busy. It was one of those weeks where you glance at the clock and resign yourself to the simple fact that there aren't enough hours in the day. I'm okay with that,, though. It just means the days pass quickly and I have productive time at the office. Still, most nights this eek I came home with eye strain from staring at my monitor and a sore, cramped back from hunching as I crunch spreadsheets down. Fun stuff. I need to unwind, get out of my head for just a bit. To do so, I want to indulge in a secret, somewhat nerdy obsession of mine.

I love the ocean. Not just any ocean. All of them. It's the monumental concept of such a strange, alien place that fascinates my mind so. There's this completely and inherently different world that exists just beyond ours, beneath the waves. A place that makes no sense to our bipedal form, a place that was simply not made for us. We are not meant to be there. There are monsters there. How can you have any interest in the world around you and not be fascinated by this beautifully obtuse realm? Don't buy it? Fine. Watch Oceans, produced by Disneynature and tell me I'm wrong.

I saw the trailer for this doc back in 2009, just before it was released. Sitting in the dark of the theater, grinning in childlike glee, I tapped on my better half's arm excitedly, whispering "I have to see that!" While I may have missed it in the theaters due to schedule conflicts, it was one of the first Blu Rays I ever bought. Holy Hannah am I glad I did.

Oceans plays straight to my inner geek while soothing my overstimulated mind. Narrated by Pierce Brosnan, the documentary shows the beauty and allure of a place we simply cannot inhabit. Massive, sweeping vistas show the enormity of the world around us to create a sense of scale, only for the camera to plunge deeper and deeper into the abyss. Overwhelming schools of fish swirl around like tornadoes. Birds dive bomb the upper layers. An endless sea of crustaceans make the mind reel at the enormity of the fauna beneath the waves. We think of big blue sea, but its teeming with life where we least expect it. Scariest, or perhaps most majestic, of all are the whales. My mind simply cannot fathom sharing the planet with such gargantuan, intelligent creatures. The thought that there are things like that in the briny depths keeps me wary about boarding ocean liners, to be perfectly honest. They are smart, gentle and mammals, somehow. None of that makes any sense to my primitive mind. Seeing it all in high definition in the privacy of my own home, wine in hand, made it all the more engaging and captivating.

Disney's Oceans is a serene, cerebral look at a world that absolutely mystifies me. It's the perfect kind of documentary to help me blow off the steam of the week. I'd you haven't seen it, I highly recommend at least streaming it on Netflix. Go HD if you really want to see the depths from the comfort of your couch. I'll unwind. You go diving.

Blackout

Gang.

What's good?

The holidays are fast approaching. I've got something special planned for the final stretch. In the meantime, let's put all that noise at the back of our minds and look at something completely left of center. Something that has nothing to do with Xmas, other than some personal references. Sound good? Good. We're talking about Method Man and Redman.

Not everyone is into hip hop. I get that. I wasn't either, for a long time. As a kid in the Middlewest, what impetus would I have for getting into the genre? I was sheltered. I'm cool with it, you can't change where you come from. When I was in my later teens, though, a friend of mine turned me on to something so loose and ridiculous that my brain could not resist it. The sound was so tight yet so loose that I couldn't deny what they were putting down. I'm talking about the first full length outing between Meth and Red, 1999's Blackout!

Blackout! is a strange staple of the genre. Method Man and Redman had known each other since their youth and had collaborated on countless tracks. When it finally came down to the two of them putting out a full length album, they pulled out all the stops. The resulting insanity was a non-stop verbal work out that (for reasons that still elude me) connected on some subconscious level. 

Blackout! was the first hip hop album that made any sense to me, which is a bit of an odd statement. None of the songs were written with my ears in mind. Nothing in the songs had anything to do with me. I feel like it was more of a sensibility that spoke to me, a manner in which Meth and Red played fast and loose with their rhyme schemes and verbal imagery. The dynamic duo cited everything from kung fu movies to New York hipster culture to the original Clash of the Titans to dealing drugs and a wide array of things I had no experience of point of reference in. Still, their delivery and attitude were undeniably infectious. Unlike other rap albums at the time, these two crammed every bar and run with as much insanity as possible, instead of lazily hyping a label or name-checking their crew. These dudes were nuts. 

Look no further than 'Da Rockwilder', one of my favorite mainstream rap singles. The beat is is head bobber, the rhymes come fast and relentless. Red and Meth even stalk the video with aplomb, chained to each other as they spit verses. I listened to this album ceaselessly when I first picked it up. Unlike a lot of other rap I listened to at the time, I still put this one on, every now and then. If you want to hear what finally put me over the edge and got my feet wet in the world of hip hop, look no further. Lights out!

The Right Choice

Evening.

I watched a movie recently that made me sideline any music post I had coming for today. It was damn good. So good, in fact, that I kicked myself for not checking it out sooner. There had been plenty of buzz around it when it was first released in 2008. Hey, before I even saw it there was a localized, near shot-for-shot remake. I figure for the setting and mood of the picture, it's a perfect fit for this site. Strap in, kids. It's gonna get weird.

Based on a book by John Ajvide Lindqvist, Let the Right One In is a Swedish film that blends the poignant coming of age tales we're all familiar with and the creepy, skin crawling discomfort of the uncanny and horrible. It's not spoiling much to say there is a vampire involved in the story. The promotional artwork pretty much spells it out for you. Rather, like any good story it's not the set up that's so remarkable as it is the manner in which events unfold. On top of it, the setting and performances are stellar. The cast, dominated by child actors, turn in amazing performances that are painfully real. Director Tomas Alfredson has created something truly strange and scary in this quiet, menacing movie. Let's take a closer look, eh?

12 year old Oskar is a lonely, frustrated boy. He lives with his divorced mother in an apartment in Blackeberg, outside of Stockholm. Bullies torment him mercilessly and he feels like an outcast. Through painfully raw moments we get to know the quiet boy, seeing his dark side as well as his lingering childhood innocence. When a new neighbor moves into his apartment block, a cautious friendship is struck. Unfortunately, at this same time horrible murders begin occurring in the area, culimating in a suspect being apprehended. The man in question has burned his face beyond recognition, though, to protect the one he was committing the crimes for. As the story unfolds, we learn about Oskar's lonely life, the pale and tormented Eli and how the two become horribly intertwined at such a tender age. 

Let the Right One In is the rare film that easily exists as art as well as entertainment. The cinematography is simultaneously bleak and beautiful. The performances are genuine and affecting. The pacing is masterfully plotted. What we perceive as horrendous violence is actually often only hinted at, rather than explicitly shown. Interestingly, I noticed the effect the soundtrack had on my viewing experience. What was ostensibly a horror movie felt very much like an adolescent tale of romance due to the score. It very much accentuated the contrasting light and dark elements of the film.

Forget the American remake, Let Me In. Too literal, too much of the same. Go to the Swedish version. They're the ones who know cold, bleak emotional turmoil. This movie is a crazy way to step into the winter mindset. Sick of the holidays? This is the opposite of a Xmas movie. Pick it up or stream it on Netflix, either way - keep the lights off. It's fantastic.

Crew Cuts

C'mon, like you didn't expect this?


Doomtree. No Kings. 


What more does a guy have to say? I've been all about the 'Meatcleaver tied to a Shotgun' since Just Riley turned me on to P.O.S. back in 2005. Since then, I've been as obsessed as any of their fans, clamoring for more material, the long awaited crew album, attending the (now week-long) Blowouts in First Ave. So when word dropped earlier in the fall about No Kings, I was super excited. The teaser tracks were killer, crazy stuff. I was gonna give you a full run down on why you should pick up the album (if you hadn't already) but it looks like the local City Pages beat me to the punch. That's the rub of a one man operation - I can only do so much. They did a fantastic job breaking down the release of the second full-crew release, so what more could I say? 

My own perspective, of course. While I certainly agreed with everything they had to say about Doomtree's rapid, hardworking rise to the top, it was interesting to see certain views and assumptions confirmed or denied. For example, my suspicions were correct, it seems, that the title and theme were completely coincidental in the context of the Occupy movement and the release of the Jay-Z/Kanye album. The crew had always had a 'make your own life' aesthetic to it, this album distilled that ethos. Additionally, the nature of the collaboration and presentation of the album was much more unified and cohesive when compared to their previous group effort. While I loved that album as a symbol of accomplishment and a statement on where they were, it was very diverse, almost scattered. No Kings, instead, is incredibly cohesive. Every song feels like part of an album instead of a showcase for each artist. Songs aren't individualized but more like limbs to a monster. 

The amount of growth each member of the crew has shown is also remarkable. The ideas and themes they put forth have always been lurking in the unspoken spaces of Doomtree hooks and lines. It's only in the last two years or so that the rappers have fully blossomed into the incredibly nuanced and articulate wordsmiths they are here. You could spend pages unpacking individual couplets, only to realize there would be more than one or two interpretations. Sims becomes more introspective and conversely more light in his delivery, feeling ever more alive and alight when he raps. P.O.S. refines his social viewpoints and desire to reform his world as he sees fit, all while gaining more verbal dexterity. Mictlan's word-collages grow evermore diverse and bizarre, creating murals with wordplay that hinges on free-association dadaism. Dessa has fallen into a dangerous pocket, retaining all her artistry she wielded on A Badly Broken Code, only now she finds herself completely lock-step with the rest of the insane crew, rather than being a stand out. Cecil Otter continues to make me question my own justification of using the same language he does. How can I claim to craft a sentence when he not only produces beats but creates some of the smartest, most cutting lyrics you've ever heard?

Yes, yes, hyperbole, I know. What I'm saying is prove me wrong. Listen to this album and tell me its not the most talented crew out there, working as one horrifyingly talented whole. The collective vision is so masterfully crafted and delivered, it almost puts anything else they've done to shame. All the shows at First Ave this week are sold out, but maybe if you know a guy, you can get in. They own their own world. We only get glimpses of it when they drop albums like this.