One of the Pentagon’s key “sources” for its denial of the death toll from the recent mass killing of civilians in the Afghan village of Azizabad has been revealed to be Fox News correspondent Oliver North. North was indicted and then later pardoned in the 1980s for lying to Congress about the Iran-Contra scandal.
And oh yeah...one of the Pentagon's key sources for the denial of secret CIA prisons in Poland has been revealed to be Fox News pundit and megalomaniacal supervillain Lex Luthor.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Gov. Palin calls Iraq War and gas pipeline "God's will"
To anyone still reading this, my apologies for being AWOL as of late. I've been extremely swamped with moving down here to Milledgeville for graduate school, etc. I'll try to keep posting on a regular basis, but my heavy workload will inevitably interfere. Regardless, here's a little something to make your head explode:
GOP vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin was recently quoted as saying that the war in Iraq is part of "God's plan:"
Palin: “Pray for our military men and women who are striving to do what is right. Also, for this country, that our leaders, our national leaders, are sending them out on a task that is from God. That’s what we have to make sure that we’re praying for, that there is a plan and that that plan is God’s plan. So bless them with your prayers, your prayers of protection over our soldiers.”
What's that? Your jugular hasn't rupture yet? Wait, it gets better--during the same address, Palin said the construction of a new oil pipeline in Alaska is also God’s will:
Palin: “I can do my part in doing things like working really, really hard to get a natural gas pipeline, about a $30 billion project that’s going to create a lot of jobs for Alaskans, and we’ll have a lot of energy flowing through here. And pray about that also. I think God’s will has to be done in unifying people and companies to get that gas line built, so pray for that.”
Addressing the first quote, no one in their right mind should have any problem with prayers being said for our soldiers currently active in the Middle East. Besides having to come to grips with their participation in an increasingly unpopular, jingoistic, and unabashedly propagandistic war, these men and women likely face unimaginable challenges, both physical and psychological, day in and day out. To judge them would be irresponsible. I dare say, however, that to dub the war as "God's will" is infinitely more irresponsible, and is a volatile combination of psychosis and dogmatic naivete.
The second quote really doesn't merit the dignity of a response--if the governor of a state that contains both one of the nation's largest wildlife populations and one of its largest native presences cannot see how a $30 million pipeline through the heart of the land would upset that delicate balance, then...well, actually I can't think up a line acerbic enough to do that level of stupidity justice.
So yes, pray for our soldiers. And light a candle for Sarah Palin; that quick whiff of sulfur would do her sinuses some good if she ever pulls her head our of her ass.
Source: democracynow.org
GOP vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin was recently quoted as saying that the war in Iraq is part of "God's plan:"
Palin: “Pray for our military men and women who are striving to do what is right. Also, for this country, that our leaders, our national leaders, are sending them out on a task that is from God. That’s what we have to make sure that we’re praying for, that there is a plan and that that plan is God’s plan. So bless them with your prayers, your prayers of protection over our soldiers.”
What's that? Your jugular hasn't rupture yet? Wait, it gets better--during the same address, Palin said the construction of a new oil pipeline in Alaska is also God’s will:
Palin: “I can do my part in doing things like working really, really hard to get a natural gas pipeline, about a $30 billion project that’s going to create a lot of jobs for Alaskans, and we’ll have a lot of energy flowing through here. And pray about that also. I think God’s will has to be done in unifying people and companies to get that gas line built, so pray for that.”
Addressing the first quote, no one in their right mind should have any problem with prayers being said for our soldiers currently active in the Middle East. Besides having to come to grips with their participation in an increasingly unpopular, jingoistic, and unabashedly propagandistic war, these men and women likely face unimaginable challenges, both physical and psychological, day in and day out. To judge them would be irresponsible. I dare say, however, that to dub the war as "God's will" is infinitely more irresponsible, and is a volatile combination of psychosis and dogmatic naivete.
The second quote really doesn't merit the dignity of a response--if the governor of a state that contains both one of the nation's largest wildlife populations and one of its largest native presences cannot see how a $30 million pipeline through the heart of the land would upset that delicate balance, then...well, actually I can't think up a line acerbic enough to do that level of stupidity justice.
So yes, pray for our soldiers. And light a candle for Sarah Palin; that quick whiff of sulfur would do her sinuses some good if she ever pulls her head our of her ass.
Source: democracynow.org
Sunday, June 22, 2008
George Carlin dead at 71
I've just read a brief article on the Yahoo homepage informing us that influential comedian, author, and all-around curmudgeon George Carlin has passed away today as a result of heart failure. He was 71.
I'm not an authority on the man, so I'll keep it brief. Carlin was an important and revolutionary voice in the world of standup comedy, and indeed of entertainment in general. Absolutely nothing was taboo to him, a trait that would lead to his greatest success as well as to some bitter legal battles. He was cut from the cloth of Lenny Bruce, and inspired such modern-day socio-political ranters as Lewis Black and, to an extent, Bill Maher.
Carlin is quoted (I paraphrase here) as saying that he believes in nothing...not religion, not this country, not good, not any sort of man-made institution. For all of that, accounts indicate that he was not a mean-spirited person; it would be most accurate, I suppose, to say that he believed in a need for the drawdown of bullshit, or rather, what he considered bullshit.
I'd say rest in peace, but he probably isn't. RIP anyway, George.
I'm not an authority on the man, so I'll keep it brief. Carlin was an important and revolutionary voice in the world of standup comedy, and indeed of entertainment in general. Absolutely nothing was taboo to him, a trait that would lead to his greatest success as well as to some bitter legal battles. He was cut from the cloth of Lenny Bruce, and inspired such modern-day socio-political ranters as Lewis Black and, to an extent, Bill Maher.
Carlin is quoted (I paraphrase here) as saying that he believes in nothing...not religion, not this country, not good, not any sort of man-made institution. For all of that, accounts indicate that he was not a mean-spirited person; it would be most accurate, I suppose, to say that he believed in a need for the drawdown of bullshit, or rather, what he considered bullshit.
I'd say rest in peace, but he probably isn't. RIP anyway, George.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Issues to Care About: Volume I
Over the next couple of weeks (and for as long afterward as I'm able) I'll be posting a series of blogs that seek to cut through the smears, flotsam, and other non-issues that will likely again dominate this nation's presidential campaign. If you're sick, tired, and disillusioned with flag pins and tribal African headdresses, read on. If you're not, read on anyway...this is for everyone.
President Bush Takes Covert Steps Towards Martial Law
Precisely 22 months ago, President Bush privately (indeed, almost secretly) signed into law the John Warner Defense Authorization Act of 2007. The law, in effect, permits President Bush to not only position troops anywhere in the United States, but also to take control of national guard soldiers without the consent of state or local authorities in order to "suppress public disorder." The president's signing of the law essentially revises a 200-year-old law known as the Insurrection Act and repeals the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, which reads: "Whoever, except in cases and under circumstances expressly authorized by the Constitution or Act of Congress, willfully uses any part of the Army or Air Force as a posse comitatus or otherwise to execute the laws shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years, or both." This act has been the United States' citizens' most explicitly stated protection against the possibility of tyranny enforced by a declaration of martial law, a tactic commonly utilized nowadays by authoritarian governments to brutally put down populist movements against unpopular rule.
Getting specific, Section 333 of the JW Defense Authorization Act reads: "...the President may employ the armed forces, including the National Guard in federal service--to restore public order and enforce the laws of the United States when, as a result of a national disaster, epidemic, or other serious public health emergency, terrorist attack or incident, or other condition in any State or possession of the United States, the President determines that domestic violence has occurred to such an extent that the constituted authorities of the State or possession are incapable of (or "refuse" or "fail in") maintaining public order--in order to suppress, in any State, any insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy."
Thusly, with one swipe of the pen, no clearly referenced author, and dangerously vague prose, the President has been granted sweeping powers to not only utilize the United States armed forces for the purpose of quashing dissidence, but also to determine what constitutes this "insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy."
In 2007, Major General Timothy Lowenberg (Adjutant General of the Washington National Guard, as well as Director of the Washington Military Department) testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee on the "Insurrection Act Rider and State Control of the National Guard." Speaking out in particular against Section 1076, the General asserted and confirmed that the law had effectively stricken irrelevant "one hundred years of law and policy...without any publicly or privately acknowledged author or proponent of the change."
Not only that, but a domestic military organization has already been established; Northern Command (NORTHCOM) was approved by Secretary of Defense Gates on March 15th, 2007. Simply put, President Bush has seen fit to declare himself dictator.
While there has been absolutely no mention of this in the mainstream media, and little reaction from our elected officials in Congress, Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.), noting that "Using the military for law enforcement goes against one of the founding tenets of our democracy. We fail our Constitution, neglecting the rights of the States, when we make it easier for the President to declare martial law and trample on local and state sovereignty," has introduced Senate Bill 513, which seeks to repeal Section 1076 of the John Warner Act.
As of now, the bill has yet to move beyond the introduction phase, according to govtrak.us. When and if, however, the bill comes up for consideration, it must be drafted into law so that this President, and the others to follow, will not retain the ability and the "right" to arbitrarily enact an authoritarian rule.
Note: Credit for the story and quotes is due to author Frank Morales, as well as the student and faculty researchers for Censored 2008. Many of my forthcoming posts will be based on selections from the Censored series, as well as from the writings of Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, Charlie Savage, and Jeremy Scahill, and I thank them for their diligence in upholding and fighting for the tenets of open government, freedom of information and of the press, and for democracy in general.
President Bush Takes Covert Steps Towards Martial Law
Precisely 22 months ago, President Bush privately (indeed, almost secretly) signed into law the John Warner Defense Authorization Act of 2007. The law, in effect, permits President Bush to not only position troops anywhere in the United States, but also to take control of national guard soldiers without the consent of state or local authorities in order to "suppress public disorder." The president's signing of the law essentially revises a 200-year-old law known as the Insurrection Act and repeals the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, which reads: "Whoever, except in cases and under circumstances expressly authorized by the Constitution or Act of Congress, willfully uses any part of the Army or Air Force as a posse comitatus or otherwise to execute the laws shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years, or both." This act has been the United States' citizens' most explicitly stated protection against the possibility of tyranny enforced by a declaration of martial law, a tactic commonly utilized nowadays by authoritarian governments to brutally put down populist movements against unpopular rule.
Getting specific, Section 333 of the JW Defense Authorization Act reads: "...the President may employ the armed forces, including the National Guard in federal service--to restore public order and enforce the laws of the United States when, as a result of a national disaster, epidemic, or other serious public health emergency, terrorist attack or incident, or other condition in any State or possession of the United States, the President determines that domestic violence has occurred to such an extent that the constituted authorities of the State or possession are incapable of (or "refuse" or "fail in") maintaining public order--in order to suppress, in any State, any insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy."
Thusly, with one swipe of the pen, no clearly referenced author, and dangerously vague prose, the President has been granted sweeping powers to not only utilize the United States armed forces for the purpose of quashing dissidence, but also to determine what constitutes this "insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy."
In 2007, Major General Timothy Lowenberg (Adjutant General of the Washington National Guard, as well as Director of the Washington Military Department) testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee on the "Insurrection Act Rider and State Control of the National Guard." Speaking out in particular against Section 1076, the General asserted and confirmed that the law had effectively stricken irrelevant "one hundred years of law and policy...without any publicly or privately acknowledged author or proponent of the change."
Not only that, but a domestic military organization has already been established; Northern Command (NORTHCOM) was approved by Secretary of Defense Gates on March 15th, 2007. Simply put, President Bush has seen fit to declare himself dictator.
While there has been absolutely no mention of this in the mainstream media, and little reaction from our elected officials in Congress, Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.), noting that "Using the military for law enforcement goes against one of the founding tenets of our democracy. We fail our Constitution, neglecting the rights of the States, when we make it easier for the President to declare martial law and trample on local and state sovereignty," has introduced Senate Bill 513, which seeks to repeal Section 1076 of the John Warner Act.
As of now, the bill has yet to move beyond the introduction phase, according to govtrak.us. When and if, however, the bill comes up for consideration, it must be drafted into law so that this President, and the others to follow, will not retain the ability and the "right" to arbitrarily enact an authoritarian rule.
Note: Credit for the story and quotes is due to author Frank Morales, as well as the student and faculty researchers for Censored 2008. Many of my forthcoming posts will be based on selections from the Censored series, as well as from the writings of Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, Charlie Savage, and Jeremy Scahill, and I thank them for their diligence in upholding and fighting for the tenets of open government, freedom of information and of the press, and for democracy in general.
Response to comments on my last blog
Note: I suggest to anyone reading this that they first reference the two comments left in response to my June 2nd blog regarding the apparent lack of hard evidence linking Bin Laden to 9/11. I posted the following in the comment section, but decided that the contents merited a presence on the main page.
My intention in posting this fact was not to accuse anybody of anything, or to in fact suggest that Osama Bin Laden did NOT have anything to do with the attacks. What I am saying, however, is that, when facts like this come up, it should make us more than a bit suspicious.
It may seem like a "strong enough connection," but it apparently is not strong enough for the FBI to use as evidence against him. Judging the situation by the seemingly overwhelming evidence against the man, it seems to me more than a bit odd that this nation's highest-ranking investigative organization has yet to officially declare that there is sufficient evidence linking Bin Laden to the 9/11 attacks.
Responding specifically to the latest comment, your guess is as good as mine. It's pretty clear by now, however, that if we were going to focus an extended war effort on any country, it should be Afghanistan. The connections to Iraq were completely fabricated, a fact that has been exhaustively documented by both more and less able persons than myself.
My intention in posting this fact was not to accuse anybody of anything, or to in fact suggest that Osama Bin Laden did NOT have anything to do with the attacks. What I am saying, however, is that, when facts like this come up, it should make us more than a bit suspicious.
It may seem like a "strong enough connection," but it apparently is not strong enough for the FBI to use as evidence against him. Judging the situation by the seemingly overwhelming evidence against the man, it seems to me more than a bit odd that this nation's highest-ranking investigative organization has yet to officially declare that there is sufficient evidence linking Bin Laden to the 9/11 attacks.
Responding specifically to the latest comment, your guess is as good as mine. It's pretty clear by now, however, that if we were going to focus an extended war effort on any country, it should be Afghanistan. The connections to Iraq were completely fabricated, a fact that has been exhaustively documented by both more and less able persons than myself.
Monday, June 2, 2008
No direct evidence linking Bin Laden to 9/11?
To begin, I feel compelled to point out that I don't seek to put forth any conspiratorial implications or to point fingers, but simply to state a few facts and ask a question. It goes without saying that it is our right and our duty as American citizens to point out such discrepancies as the one I'm about to address, and to follow such observations with questions, though not necessarily accusations.
That having been said...
As of the present time, the FBI explicitly states that Osama Bin Laden is wanted for his participation in the 1998 bombings of U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania. Sufficient evidence for this has been uncovered, and the Bureau is actively seeking his capture and conviction for those particular crimes.Mention of his involvement with the 9/11 atrocities, however, are nowhere to be found in official FBI statements. When Ed Haas, journalist and editor for the Muckraker Report, inquired about this curious fact, he was told by an FBI official that "The reason why 9/11 is not mentioned on Osama Bin Laden's Most Wanted page is because the FBI has no hard evidence connective [him] to 9/11."
Keeping that in mind, let's go back a bit, specifically to December 2001, when Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, in a press release alongside the airing of the video in which Bin Laden is supposed to have claimed credit for the orchestration of 9/11, says "There was no doubt of Bin Laden's responsibility for the 9/11 attacks even before the tape was discovered." In spite of this statement and the federal government's assertion that it was invading Afghanistan in order to root out Bin Laden for his crimes associated with 9/11, there is neither an official government authentication of the tape nor any hard evidence linking Bin Laden to the attacks.
This is interesting at least, and disconcerting at most. Nearly seven years have passed since the Middle East invasions, and there is still no real, tangible evidence; the media has blacklisted any guest that could potentially speak of any sort of cover-up. Perhaps most glaring, however, about the entire situation is that an administration that has gone to extreme, illicit, and amoral lengths to sell this war to the American people would withhold any sort of information that justifies their actions in the Middle East.
That having been said...
As of the present time, the FBI explicitly states that Osama Bin Laden is wanted for his participation in the 1998 bombings of U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania. Sufficient evidence for this has been uncovered, and the Bureau is actively seeking his capture and conviction for those particular crimes.Mention of his involvement with the 9/11 atrocities, however, are nowhere to be found in official FBI statements. When Ed Haas, journalist and editor for the Muckraker Report, inquired about this curious fact, he was told by an FBI official that "The reason why 9/11 is not mentioned on Osama Bin Laden's Most Wanted page is because the FBI has no hard evidence connective [him] to 9/11."
Keeping that in mind, let's go back a bit, specifically to December 2001, when Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, in a press release alongside the airing of the video in which Bin Laden is supposed to have claimed credit for the orchestration of 9/11, says "There was no doubt of Bin Laden's responsibility for the 9/11 attacks even before the tape was discovered." In spite of this statement and the federal government's assertion that it was invading Afghanistan in order to root out Bin Laden for his crimes associated with 9/11, there is neither an official government authentication of the tape nor any hard evidence linking Bin Laden to the attacks.
This is interesting at least, and disconcerting at most. Nearly seven years have passed since the Middle East invasions, and there is still no real, tangible evidence; the media has blacklisted any guest that could potentially speak of any sort of cover-up. Perhaps most glaring, however, about the entire situation is that an administration that has gone to extreme, illicit, and amoral lengths to sell this war to the American people would withhold any sort of information that justifies their actions in the Middle East.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Pelican, "After the Ceiling Cracked" review
Pelican"After the Ceiling Cracked"Hydra HeadAvailable NowAUGUSTA, GA - Casual music fans that get a hold of the specs for Pelican’s new live DVD are likely to wonder why a band would release a concert film over a year after the majority of the footage was recorded.
Then again, Hydra Head isn’t marketing “After the Ceiling Cracked” toward the casual Abbey Road T-shirt-wearing FYE jockey… they’re marketing it towards Pelican fans. I mean let’s face it, this isn’t something that just anybody is going to walk by, see it and think to themselves, “Eh, might as well.”
The Eagles’ “Hell Freezes Over” it ain’t—which is generally a good thing. May the devil extinguish his cigar butt on the necks of the Herweg brothers if they ever go near the words “farewell tour.” Love ya, guys.
OK, so if you know anything at all about Pelican, then you’re probably not going to be taken aback by anything you see here: It’s long been known that the band is equally adept at creating quiet, mood-piece passages as they are at throwing down with mountain-shattering riffs that could kick up enough of a cosmic shit-storm to put a crack in a 2001 monolith.
That’s a given, but, because this time around you can actually see the intent in the eyes and movements of the band members. Songs like “Autumn into Summer” and “Aurora Borealis” open the viewer up to a whole new dimension of interaction; the crescendos in “Last Day of Winter,” are, likewise, nothing short of triumphant.
The best part of the DVD, however, is the archival footage, some of which dates back to a few of the band’s first performances in 2003, and which allows you to chart the course of the group’s evolution not only with regards to stage presence, but also to how they’ve approached the songwriting process and even certain songs. Juxtapose their performances of “Mammoth” and “Pink Mammoth” and see if you aren’t a little enlightened.
Evolution is the whole point of “After the Ceiling Cracked,” and the foundation upon which Pelican’s very existence is based. The impact is considerable, especially when you realize that seeing the band live is an extension of this whole experience.
I’m not sure whether to feel grateful or manipulated. Cheeky bastards—and oh yeah, the DVD comes packaged with a 3" CD that features two versions of “Pink Mammoth” (one with the entire lineup of These Arms Are Snakes), as well as Prefuse 73 remix of “Aurora Borealis” entitled “End of Seaons.” ‘Course, if you’re like me, you’d already have most of that on vinyl. Dorks! Wait…
Then again, Hydra Head isn’t marketing “After the Ceiling Cracked” toward the casual Abbey Road T-shirt-wearing FYE jockey… they’re marketing it towards Pelican fans. I mean let’s face it, this isn’t something that just anybody is going to walk by, see it and think to themselves, “Eh, might as well.”
The Eagles’ “Hell Freezes Over” it ain’t—which is generally a good thing. May the devil extinguish his cigar butt on the necks of the Herweg brothers if they ever go near the words “farewell tour.” Love ya, guys.
OK, so if you know anything at all about Pelican, then you’re probably not going to be taken aback by anything you see here: It’s long been known that the band is equally adept at creating quiet, mood-piece passages as they are at throwing down with mountain-shattering riffs that could kick up enough of a cosmic shit-storm to put a crack in a 2001 monolith.
That’s a given, but, because this time around you can actually see the intent in the eyes and movements of the band members. Songs like “Autumn into Summer” and “Aurora Borealis” open the viewer up to a whole new dimension of interaction; the crescendos in “Last Day of Winter,” are, likewise, nothing short of triumphant.
The best part of the DVD, however, is the archival footage, some of which dates back to a few of the band’s first performances in 2003, and which allows you to chart the course of the group’s evolution not only with regards to stage presence, but also to how they’ve approached the songwriting process and even certain songs. Juxtapose their performances of “Mammoth” and “Pink Mammoth” and see if you aren’t a little enlightened.
Evolution is the whole point of “After the Ceiling Cracked,” and the foundation upon which Pelican’s very existence is based. The impact is considerable, especially when you realize that seeing the band live is an extension of this whole experience.
I’m not sure whether to feel grateful or manipulated. Cheeky bastards—and oh yeah, the DVD comes packaged with a 3" CD that features two versions of “Pink Mammoth” (one with the entire lineup of These Arms Are Snakes), as well as Prefuse 73 remix of “Aurora Borealis” entitled “End of Seaons.” ‘Course, if you’re like me, you’d already have most of that on vinyl. Dorks! Wait…
Pelican: Streamlined, but still expanding
AUGUSTA, GA - It goes without saying that the evolution of sound, style, and substance (abuse) is typically more difficult to track when it comes to certain artists. Those kinds of changes are usually the ones that gradually take shape over an elongated period of time; having started out as perhaps a speck of a notion inspired by an Albert Camus novel or even as a botched note during a 'shroom-heavy scalar run, the idea first slithers its way onto a single track. Before you know it, you’ve got “Astral Weeks.” Just an example.
Other bands are kind enough to make it more obvious, though it just tends to give the critics a different kind of headache. After the rampant sevenths and pseudo-carnival tendencies of “Blonde on Blonde,” most folks figured it signaled a new direction in Dylan’s sound and career. Nah… turns out he just had a whim. Don’t believe me? Listen to “John Wesley Harding.”
Fortunately for those of us who tend more toward the avante-drone side of the spectrum, Pelican happens to be a shining example of the latter. While their eponymous debut EP and first pair of full lengths, 2003’s “Australasia” and 2005’s “The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw,” boasted an average song length that skirted somewhere around the ten-minute mark, only the title track from “City of Echoes,” released just nine months ago, climbs past seven minutes. Much has been made about the obvious influence of touring on the record’s sound, but guitarist Trevor de Brauw says it’s a little more complicated.
“It really had more to do with just the quality of touring, rather than touring itself,” he says during my lunch break. “We used to just do a few scattered tours here and there for the first two albums…I mean, we all had jobs and school and things like that. But when ‘Fire in Our Throats’ came out, we were able to quit our jobs for the most part and really make the lifestyle work. So it definitely had an impact in that regard; before that, we never really considered the songs as live pieces.”
Indeed, the new tracks tend to inspire more head-banging than the trance-inducing monoliths that highlighted the band’s first few years; the rock-out, it would seem, comes with an almost equal dosage of cock-out this time around, a characteristic that is endearing the band to new legions. Some are even dubbing it the group’s “Black Album.” Dare we invoke the dread name?
“You know, I guess I never really thought about it much before,” says de Brauw after a moment’s contemplation, “but yeah, the new record is a lot more digestable, much easier for people to understand. The earlier material was really slow, and ‘Fire’ was, I think, a little long-winded.”
As if a new album and tour weren’t enough, the band subsequently released a vinyl-only EP entitled “Pink Mammoth,” which featured a major key re-tooling of early song “Mammoth,” as well as a Prefuse 73 mash-up of “Aurora Borealis” and the untitled track from “Fire,” referred to on the EP as “End of Seasons.” It was released in four or five different prints, and every time a “red splatter” print comes up on eBay, a hipster, somewhere, has an orgasm.
Capping off a prolific year, however, is the long-awaited release of Pelican’s first proper live concert DVD, “After the Ceiling Cracked,” which features not only a full December 20, 2005 set from London’s Kings Cross Scala, but archival footage from the band’s early days. Needless to say, Trevor is pretty amped about it…in his own subtle way.
“Basically, the guy who filmed it got in touch with us and asked us if we’d like for him to record the London show, because the venue was really nice and perfect for that kind of thing. The label got really excited, and so we had the place set for up for recording and multi-tracking. There were some problems later on with the digitization, but the recording went pretty well.”
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Justin Broadrick was the sound mixer for the entire set. And oh yeah, did I mention that the DVD also features a totally “Sledgehammer”-meets-Appalachian-Trail video for “Autumn into Summer?”
“Yeah, that all happened kind of randomly!” says de Brauw. “The guy who filmed it got in touch with us while we were picking out live footage and stuff. He initially sent us about two minutes’ worth, and we really liked it.”
Pelican’s evolution isn’t limited to varying degrees of aural assault. Longtime fans will also notice some tweaks in the group’s live performance, specifically with regards to the newer material. The old songs tended to get fleshed out a little more live, but the same, de Brauw says, tends to not be true for “City of Echoes.”
“Our mood was just changing during the old material,” he says, “so during the tour, the songs would take on these slight variations, and as a result, ended up sounding more wound-up live than on the record. This time around, though, we were very conscious of that, and the songs actually sound more relaxed now.”
And while this tour will no doubt include some spacey favorites, the guitarist warns fans to not hold their breath for an “Aurora Borealis” encore.
“At that time, it was pretty typical of our shows,” he remembers. “Not so much anymore…we don’t always do encores, and we kind of wanted to put that song to rest for awhile.”
As an added bonus, fans who haven’t caught the band live will be able to witness de Brauw channeling his inner Page, utilizing a violin bow on “Last Day of Winter” and “Aurora Borealis.” He snickers lightly as he talks about it.
“That pretty much came about as a result of my learning, unsuccessfully, how to play the violin. So I just became interested in bowing anything else that I could.”
Other bands are kind enough to make it more obvious, though it just tends to give the critics a different kind of headache. After the rampant sevenths and pseudo-carnival tendencies of “Blonde on Blonde,” most folks figured it signaled a new direction in Dylan’s sound and career. Nah… turns out he just had a whim. Don’t believe me? Listen to “John Wesley Harding.”
Fortunately for those of us who tend more toward the avante-drone side of the spectrum, Pelican happens to be a shining example of the latter. While their eponymous debut EP and first pair of full lengths, 2003’s “Australasia” and 2005’s “The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw,” boasted an average song length that skirted somewhere around the ten-minute mark, only the title track from “City of Echoes,” released just nine months ago, climbs past seven minutes. Much has been made about the obvious influence of touring on the record’s sound, but guitarist Trevor de Brauw says it’s a little more complicated.
“It really had more to do with just the quality of touring, rather than touring itself,” he says during my lunch break. “We used to just do a few scattered tours here and there for the first two albums…I mean, we all had jobs and school and things like that. But when ‘Fire in Our Throats’ came out, we were able to quit our jobs for the most part and really make the lifestyle work. So it definitely had an impact in that regard; before that, we never really considered the songs as live pieces.”
Indeed, the new tracks tend to inspire more head-banging than the trance-inducing monoliths that highlighted the band’s first few years; the rock-out, it would seem, comes with an almost equal dosage of cock-out this time around, a characteristic that is endearing the band to new legions. Some are even dubbing it the group’s “Black Album.” Dare we invoke the dread name?
“You know, I guess I never really thought about it much before,” says de Brauw after a moment’s contemplation, “but yeah, the new record is a lot more digestable, much easier for people to understand. The earlier material was really slow, and ‘Fire’ was, I think, a little long-winded.”
As if a new album and tour weren’t enough, the band subsequently released a vinyl-only EP entitled “Pink Mammoth,” which featured a major key re-tooling of early song “Mammoth,” as well as a Prefuse 73 mash-up of “Aurora Borealis” and the untitled track from “Fire,” referred to on the EP as “End of Seasons.” It was released in four or five different prints, and every time a “red splatter” print comes up on eBay, a hipster, somewhere, has an orgasm.
Capping off a prolific year, however, is the long-awaited release of Pelican’s first proper live concert DVD, “After the Ceiling Cracked,” which features not only a full December 20, 2005 set from London’s Kings Cross Scala, but archival footage from the band’s early days. Needless to say, Trevor is pretty amped about it…in his own subtle way.
“Basically, the guy who filmed it got in touch with us and asked us if we’d like for him to record the London show, because the venue was really nice and perfect for that kind of thing. The label got really excited, and so we had the place set for up for recording and multi-tracking. There were some problems later on with the digitization, but the recording went pretty well.”
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Justin Broadrick was the sound mixer for the entire set. And oh yeah, did I mention that the DVD also features a totally “Sledgehammer”-meets-Appalachian-Trail video for “Autumn into Summer?”
“Yeah, that all happened kind of randomly!” says de Brauw. “The guy who filmed it got in touch with us while we were picking out live footage and stuff. He initially sent us about two minutes’ worth, and we really liked it.”
Pelican’s evolution isn’t limited to varying degrees of aural assault. Longtime fans will also notice some tweaks in the group’s live performance, specifically with regards to the newer material. The old songs tended to get fleshed out a little more live, but the same, de Brauw says, tends to not be true for “City of Echoes.”
“Our mood was just changing during the old material,” he says, “so during the tour, the songs would take on these slight variations, and as a result, ended up sounding more wound-up live than on the record. This time around, though, we were very conscious of that, and the songs actually sound more relaxed now.”
And while this tour will no doubt include some spacey favorites, the guitarist warns fans to not hold their breath for an “Aurora Borealis” encore.
“At that time, it was pretty typical of our shows,” he remembers. “Not so much anymore…we don’t always do encores, and we kind of wanted to put that song to rest for awhile.”
As an added bonus, fans who haven’t caught the band live will be able to witness de Brauw channeling his inner Page, utilizing a violin bow on “Last Day of Winter” and “Aurora Borealis.” He snickers lightly as he talks about it.
“That pretty much came about as a result of my learning, unsuccessfully, how to play the violin. So I just became interested in bowing anything else that I could.”
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
CIA, I see ya later
So...its come out today that there will indeed be a criminal investigation into this whole mess about the destroyed CIA interrogation tapes. It is truly a sad commentary on one citizen's state of mind (mine) when the initial reaction is: and?
Nothing's going to come of this, just like f-all has come of the Scooter Libby, Karl Rove, and U.S. attorney investigations. Everyone in America pretty much takes it for granted at this point that the Bush administration is as crooked as a handmade shilelagh, and as a result no one is surprised by this latest scandal.
And so this is the state of our citizenry--rampant corruption has led to the collective ambivalence towards that very rampant corruption. May God help us all.
Nothing's going to come of this, just like f-all has come of the Scooter Libby, Karl Rove, and U.S. attorney investigations. Everyone in America pretty much takes it for granted at this point that the Bush administration is as crooked as a handmade shilelagh, and as a result no one is surprised by this latest scandal.
And so this is the state of our citizenry--rampant corruption has led to the collective ambivalence towards that very rampant corruption. May God help us all.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Top Albums of 2007
Top Ten Albums of 2007
By Josh Ruffin
Witchcraft
The Alchemist
In case you ever wondered what Cream would have sounded like with a little more drone and an almost unhealthy interest in the occult, Witchcraft would like to show you. The Alchemist takes a giant leap past the Sabbath/Pentagram worship of their first two offerings, and drops a warped blues-rock bomb right down your throat. Absolutely essential listening for…well, anyone.
A Life Once Lost
Iron Gag
ALOL rep the ugly underbelly of Philadelphia, as opposed to every other ugly part of Philadelphia. Iron Gag finds the group at what is thus far their creative peak as they churn out a perfectly-balanced but combustible mixture of groove, sleaze, and just generally being really drunk and pissed-off. I hit repeat on “Firewater Joyride” at least once every time I spin this disc.
Moneen
The Red Tree
This thing actually dropped back in April of 2006, but I just reviewed it this year, so accept it and get over yourself. One of the sleepers on this list, The Red Tree is unabashedly emo, but distinguishes itself by being about eighty-five times as intelligent as anything Fall Out Boy or Panic! At the Disco could ever even think about writing. Also just about the best live band I’ve seen…period. Kenny Bridges gives awesome hugs, too.
Zoroaster
Dog Magic
Assisted by a skyline-sized wall of Sunn and Green amps, Zoroaster are what a black hole sounds like. These Atlanta-based sludge-o-matics aren’t breaking any new ground with their latest album, but I’ll be damned if they don’t take every single stoner-fuzz formula in the doom canon and do cartwheels with them. A split EP with Sunn 0))) within the next five years sounds like a good idea.
The Hotel Alexis
Goliath, I’m On Your Side
The production and instrumentation on this second LP from Sidney Alexis is so fragile, you’re afraid to break it if you listen too closely. Goliath, I’m On Your Side presents a version of Alexis equally as contemplative as on his 2006 debut, but one infinitely more adventurous. Don’t take that as an implication of machismo, though; his pained vocals evoke assurance as well as vulnerability on “Sister Ray” and “Suddenly It’s You and Me,” respectively.
Pelican
City of Echoes
One of the few instrumental bands to distinguish themselves as more lyrical than most groups that actually have a singer, Pelican’s compositions prior to 2007 had been typically characterized as sprawling, progressive epics usually clocking in at over ten minutes. For City of Echoes, the foursome pared down the arrangements, resulting in their most tightly-focused and accessible work to date; weighty, aggressively optimistic songs like “Spaceship Broken, Parts Needed,” and the title track are just a reminder that the best of Pelican is probably yet to come, but what we’ve got so far is pretty damn cool.
Bigelf
Hex
If anyone goes and tells the dudes of Bigelf that it’s not actually the early 70s anymore, I’ll hunt you down and bludgeon you with a stack of vinyl. Though recorded in 2003 and released stateside only this year, Hex takes everything melodic and funky about the Zeppelin era and rolls it all into one big psychedelic eight-ball. They’ve definitely earned their “evil Beatles” moniker; “Sunshine Suicide” sounds like George Harrison repeatedly slamming his Telecaster into Paul McCartney’s larynx. And yes, that’s a good thing.
Jesu
Conqueror, Lifeline
That’s right, Jesu’s got two albums on this list. Don’t bitch too much, though; at least I had the decency to combine them into one spot and not let it take up too much room. But c’mon…we’re talking Justin Broadrick here, and if you don’t get that, then this isn’t for you. Conqueror’s thundering guitars meld seamlessly with Broadrick’s trademark atmospherics, while Lifeline fully realizes the direction that the Silver EP implied, as the former Godflesh main man lays out an ocean of ambience as the foundation for some truly ethereal melodies.
Burning Brides
Hang Love
This one snuck in under the radar, and I wouldn’t have even had a chance to give it a listen if it hadn’t randomly shown up in my mailbox one day; thanks, File Thirteen! For their third album, Philadelphia’s Burning Brides deliver an absolutely pulverizing barrage of boogie-metal riffs, balanced by refreshingly self-aware pop hooks. Apparently they teach this stuff at Julliard. “Ring Around the Rosary” is the most ferociously catchy thing I’ve heard all year, and probably the best opening track in recent memory.
The Blow
Paper Television
Proving once and for all that electro-pop can actually make you tilt your head to the left and ponder the meaning of life, The Blow’s Paper Television made a relatively soft commercial landing when it was released early this year. I get the feeling, however, that brainchild Khaela Maricich could give a piss; “Pile of Gold” and the quirky love ballad “Parentheses” are simultaneously whimsical and challenging.
Honorable Mention:
Pig Destroyer, Phantom Limb: PD turn in their usual big f’n slab of death-grind, only this time it also happens to have some hooks hidden within the murk.
High on Fire, Death is this Communion: Try to imagine Motorhead being dragged across the ocean floor by a brontosaurus on a bad day.
Calvin Johnson and the Sons of the Soil (self-titled): A career-spanning collection of re-recorded gems by the seminal Northwest troubadour freak; he and Nick Cave should duke it out in a Battle of the Lower Registers.
Ladybirds, Regional Community Theatre: Saccharine pop perfection from Gym Class Heroes’ keyboardist Tyler Purcel and vocalist Teeter Sperber. Prepare to grin like an idiot in love.
Grinderman (self-titled): A garage-punk splinter of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds, the Aussie songsmith gets downright raunchy on “No Pussy Blues,” and reaffirms his pop sensibilities with “Honeybee Let’s Fly to Mars.”
By Josh Ruffin
Witchcraft
The Alchemist
In case you ever wondered what Cream would have sounded like with a little more drone and an almost unhealthy interest in the occult, Witchcraft would like to show you. The Alchemist takes a giant leap past the Sabbath/Pentagram worship of their first two offerings, and drops a warped blues-rock bomb right down your throat. Absolutely essential listening for…well, anyone.
A Life Once Lost
Iron Gag
ALOL rep the ugly underbelly of Philadelphia, as opposed to every other ugly part of Philadelphia. Iron Gag finds the group at what is thus far their creative peak as they churn out a perfectly-balanced but combustible mixture of groove, sleaze, and just generally being really drunk and pissed-off. I hit repeat on “Firewater Joyride” at least once every time I spin this disc.
Moneen
The Red Tree
This thing actually dropped back in April of 2006, but I just reviewed it this year, so accept it and get over yourself. One of the sleepers on this list, The Red Tree is unabashedly emo, but distinguishes itself by being about eighty-five times as intelligent as anything Fall Out Boy or Panic! At the Disco could ever even think about writing. Also just about the best live band I’ve seen…period. Kenny Bridges gives awesome hugs, too.
Zoroaster
Dog Magic
Assisted by a skyline-sized wall of Sunn and Green amps, Zoroaster are what a black hole sounds like. These Atlanta-based sludge-o-matics aren’t breaking any new ground with their latest album, but I’ll be damned if they don’t take every single stoner-fuzz formula in the doom canon and do cartwheels with them. A split EP with Sunn 0))) within the next five years sounds like a good idea.
The Hotel Alexis
Goliath, I’m On Your Side
The production and instrumentation on this second LP from Sidney Alexis is so fragile, you’re afraid to break it if you listen too closely. Goliath, I’m On Your Side presents a version of Alexis equally as contemplative as on his 2006 debut, but one infinitely more adventurous. Don’t take that as an implication of machismo, though; his pained vocals evoke assurance as well as vulnerability on “Sister Ray” and “Suddenly It’s You and Me,” respectively.
Pelican
City of Echoes
One of the few instrumental bands to distinguish themselves as more lyrical than most groups that actually have a singer, Pelican’s compositions prior to 2007 had been typically characterized as sprawling, progressive epics usually clocking in at over ten minutes. For City of Echoes, the foursome pared down the arrangements, resulting in their most tightly-focused and accessible work to date; weighty, aggressively optimistic songs like “Spaceship Broken, Parts Needed,” and the title track are just a reminder that the best of Pelican is probably yet to come, but what we’ve got so far is pretty damn cool.
Bigelf
Hex
If anyone goes and tells the dudes of Bigelf that it’s not actually the early 70s anymore, I’ll hunt you down and bludgeon you with a stack of vinyl. Though recorded in 2003 and released stateside only this year, Hex takes everything melodic and funky about the Zeppelin era and rolls it all into one big psychedelic eight-ball. They’ve definitely earned their “evil Beatles” moniker; “Sunshine Suicide” sounds like George Harrison repeatedly slamming his Telecaster into Paul McCartney’s larynx. And yes, that’s a good thing.
Jesu
Conqueror, Lifeline
That’s right, Jesu’s got two albums on this list. Don’t bitch too much, though; at least I had the decency to combine them into one spot and not let it take up too much room. But c’mon…we’re talking Justin Broadrick here, and if you don’t get that, then this isn’t for you. Conqueror’s thundering guitars meld seamlessly with Broadrick’s trademark atmospherics, while Lifeline fully realizes the direction that the Silver EP implied, as the former Godflesh main man lays out an ocean of ambience as the foundation for some truly ethereal melodies.
Burning Brides
Hang Love
This one snuck in under the radar, and I wouldn’t have even had a chance to give it a listen if it hadn’t randomly shown up in my mailbox one day; thanks, File Thirteen! For their third album, Philadelphia’s Burning Brides deliver an absolutely pulverizing barrage of boogie-metal riffs, balanced by refreshingly self-aware pop hooks. Apparently they teach this stuff at Julliard. “Ring Around the Rosary” is the most ferociously catchy thing I’ve heard all year, and probably the best opening track in recent memory.
The Blow
Paper Television
Proving once and for all that electro-pop can actually make you tilt your head to the left and ponder the meaning of life, The Blow’s Paper Television made a relatively soft commercial landing when it was released early this year. I get the feeling, however, that brainchild Khaela Maricich could give a piss; “Pile of Gold” and the quirky love ballad “Parentheses” are simultaneously whimsical and challenging.
Honorable Mention:
Pig Destroyer, Phantom Limb: PD turn in their usual big f’n slab of death-grind, only this time it also happens to have some hooks hidden within the murk.
High on Fire, Death is this Communion: Try to imagine Motorhead being dragged across the ocean floor by a brontosaurus on a bad day.
Calvin Johnson and the Sons of the Soil (self-titled): A career-spanning collection of re-recorded gems by the seminal Northwest troubadour freak; he and Nick Cave should duke it out in a Battle of the Lower Registers.
Ladybirds, Regional Community Theatre: Saccharine pop perfection from Gym Class Heroes’ keyboardist Tyler Purcel and vocalist Teeter Sperber. Prepare to grin like an idiot in love.
Grinderman (self-titled): A garage-punk splinter of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds, the Aussie songsmith gets downright raunchy on “No Pussy Blues,” and reaffirms his pop sensibilities with “Honeybee Let’s Fly to Mars.”
Friday, December 7, 2007
Iran, nukes, and all the rest.
Amidst the ongoing Iran nuclear program controversy, I feel that its my responsibility, as a citizen who does his best to stay educated with regard to all sides of an issue, to toss in my two cents, not to mention a couple of facts. I'll keep the pontification to a minimum here. Let's start with what we know:
1. Already wading chin-deep in the mire of an unpopular, largely unsuccessful and seemingly directionless war, concerns over Iran's nuclear capabilities started to increasingly plague the collective American consciousness, and not without good reason. The nation is home to a large extremist population, and the presidency borders on dictatorship. In other words, potential recipe for disaster.
2. It came out a few days ago that, surprise surprise, Iran suspended its nuclear ambitions sometime in 2003, and has not picked them up since. Democrats hail this information (ironically, as it came from the same source as the bogus Iraq/Al-Quaeda links, as well as the WMDs supposedly held by Hussein) as an "I told you so!" moment, while Republicans maintain (also ironically) that we must "keep the heat on Iran."
3. We know also that Iran is capable of, and continues in, enriching uranium. Some say that this is a definite sign that they are either developing a weapon in secret, or will soon restart an official nuclear program.
4. Tehran states that the enrichment of uranium is intended for energy programs only. We're still not sure what to believe.
Those are the facts, and while we can sit here all day screaming at each other about what Iran's intentions may or may not be, there are a couple of things we need to remember:
1. Iran is not the only country currently with active uranium enrichment programs. Other nations are: China, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain, Russia, Japan, the whole of the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, and the United States. Australia, Argentina, and South Africa have stated their intentions to explore the option of such programs.
2. The United States maintains an arsenal of around 9,960 nuclear warheads, about 5,000 of which are currently active, with the remainder sitting in usable reserve.
3. In 2006, the Bush administration proposed and put into effect the Reliable Replacement Warhead program with the intention of developing a next-generation ICBM. Previously, in 2005, the U.S. also revised its Doctrine for Joint Nuclear Operations, putting more emphasis on the possibility of preemptive nuclear strikes on countries that may pose a military or nuclear threat.
All of that, not to mention that the U.S. was the first country to develop such capabilities, and are to date the only nation to implement such force against another nation in a time of war. Should we keep an eye on Iran? Probably. Should we be surprised that another country that doesn't particularly like us could possibly be developing the kinds of weapons that we ourselves have been developing and stockpiling (as we continue to) for the last 60 years?
Certainly not.
1. Already wading chin-deep in the mire of an unpopular, largely unsuccessful and seemingly directionless war, concerns over Iran's nuclear capabilities started to increasingly plague the collective American consciousness, and not without good reason. The nation is home to a large extremist population, and the presidency borders on dictatorship. In other words, potential recipe for disaster.
2. It came out a few days ago that, surprise surprise, Iran suspended its nuclear ambitions sometime in 2003, and has not picked them up since. Democrats hail this information (ironically, as it came from the same source as the bogus Iraq/Al-Quaeda links, as well as the WMDs supposedly held by Hussein) as an "I told you so!" moment, while Republicans maintain (also ironically) that we must "keep the heat on Iran."
3. We know also that Iran is capable of, and continues in, enriching uranium. Some say that this is a definite sign that they are either developing a weapon in secret, or will soon restart an official nuclear program.
4. Tehran states that the enrichment of uranium is intended for energy programs only. We're still not sure what to believe.
Those are the facts, and while we can sit here all day screaming at each other about what Iran's intentions may or may not be, there are a couple of things we need to remember:
1. Iran is not the only country currently with active uranium enrichment programs. Other nations are: China, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain, Russia, Japan, the whole of the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, and the United States. Australia, Argentina, and South Africa have stated their intentions to explore the option of such programs.
2. The United States maintains an arsenal of around 9,960 nuclear warheads, about 5,000 of which are currently active, with the remainder sitting in usable reserve.
3. In 2006, the Bush administration proposed and put into effect the Reliable Replacement Warhead program with the intention of developing a next-generation ICBM. Previously, in 2005, the U.S. also revised its Doctrine for Joint Nuclear Operations, putting more emphasis on the possibility of preemptive nuclear strikes on countries that may pose a military or nuclear threat.
All of that, not to mention that the U.S. was the first country to develop such capabilities, and are to date the only nation to implement such force against another nation in a time of war. Should we keep an eye on Iran? Probably. Should we be surprised that another country that doesn't particularly like us could possibly be developing the kinds of weapons that we ourselves have been developing and stockpiling (as we continue to) for the last 60 years?
Certainly not.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
CD review: Savath and Savalas "Golden Pollen"
Golden Pollen
Savath and Savalas
Anti Records
Available Now
It was but a couple of weeks ago that I received an advance copy Savath and Savalas’ newest album Golden Pollen in the mail. Now that’s cause enough for celebration; on top of that, however, I had been thinking to myself that morning, “Damn, I wish I had something to listen to that combined chopped-up bossa nova jazz with Argentina freak-folk, topped off with just a dollop of Sigur Ros.”
Serendipitous, no?
But that’s just what Savath and Savalas, the more organically instrumented alter-ego of Prefuse 73 mastermind Scott Herren, is: a chill Frankenstein’s monster, blissfully setting a tropicalia hallucination against brilliant dreamscapes.
Golden Pollen is best taken in as a single complete track (though not in the sense of Sleep’s Jerusalem), as songs tumble slowly and purposefully into one another, evoking one moment a natural orchestra in “Concreto,” and the next a slow-motion apocalypse in “Estrella de Dos Caras.” Little flourishes like a seven-second electronic loop or a sudden crash of digitized electric guitar serve as party crashers to the poem, as they disrupt the disc’s overall stillness and serenity.
Music nerds will most likely revert back to headphone-dissection of Prefuse 73 tracks. Though a bit more accessible than its electro-cousin, Golden Pollen holds true to the roots of that avant-garde experimentation while simultaneously giving us more of a glimpse of Herren’s personal self than we have heretofore been granted. Masterful, to the last crest of ambience.
Savath and Savalas
Anti Records
Available Now
It was but a couple of weeks ago that I received an advance copy Savath and Savalas’ newest album Golden Pollen in the mail. Now that’s cause enough for celebration; on top of that, however, I had been thinking to myself that morning, “Damn, I wish I had something to listen to that combined chopped-up bossa nova jazz with Argentina freak-folk, topped off with just a dollop of Sigur Ros.”
Serendipitous, no?
But that’s just what Savath and Savalas, the more organically instrumented alter-ego of Prefuse 73 mastermind Scott Herren, is: a chill Frankenstein’s monster, blissfully setting a tropicalia hallucination against brilliant dreamscapes.
Golden Pollen is best taken in as a single complete track (though not in the sense of Sleep’s Jerusalem), as songs tumble slowly and purposefully into one another, evoking one moment a natural orchestra in “Concreto,” and the next a slow-motion apocalypse in “Estrella de Dos Caras.” Little flourishes like a seven-second electronic loop or a sudden crash of digitized electric guitar serve as party crashers to the poem, as they disrupt the disc’s overall stillness and serenity.
Music nerds will most likely revert back to headphone-dissection of Prefuse 73 tracks. Though a bit more accessible than its electro-cousin, Golden Pollen holds true to the roots of that avant-garde experimentation while simultaneously giving us more of a glimpse of Herren’s personal self than we have heretofore been granted. Masterful, to the last crest of ambience.
CD review: Zoroaster "Dog Magic"
Dog Magic
Zoroaster
Terminal Doom Records
Available Now
How much do you want to bet that the members of Zoroaster spent nine months in the womb with Saint Vitus and Cathedral being piped in by headphones strapped to their mothers’ bellies? With maybe some “ba-dum, ba-dum” white blues thrown in…
Dog Magic, the latest release by these three Atlanta-based doomsayers, is a crash course in Stoner Drone 101. The guys certainly know where they came from; progenitors like Electric Wizard and Sleep are all over this freakin’ thing, but guitarist Will Fiore and company are clever enough to channel the spirits of their inspirations through subtle tribute, and not a rehashing.
Dog Magic is an audio definition of stoner metal. Some riffs come crawling up out of your speakers like mutated zombie crocodiles from the sewer in a 70s grindhouse flick; others slow down to a veritable ooze so thick you’ll have to scrub down your body with Lava soap after a single listen; and once you get to the 14-minute oil-drip epic that is “Algebra of Need,” you can count the seconds between notes in the riffs. You want solos? Well, too bad, you ain’t getting any. Wait, what? Those ridiculously sustained lead lines on “The Book” that sound like a demonic ambulance siren heralding the impending journey of some agonized soul across the river Styx? Those are solos? Oh okay, my bad.
Occasionally the album moves along at a pace more brisk than a brontosaurus; the titular closer starts off with some immediately post-binge Motorhead grooves, but soon slinks back into its familiar tempo. And while flyers of the doom flag will find no fault in that (this writer certainly doesn’t), less experienced metalloids will likely find themselves bored or confused.
But that’s their own fault…screw ‘em. Zoroaster is by far the heaviest thing to come out of Georgia since Mastodon, and Dog Magic firmly entrenches them alongside the elite of both Southern and stoner metal. Turn up the volume, light ‘em if you got ‘em, and wait for the bottom to drop out.
Zoroaster
Terminal Doom Records
Available Now
How much do you want to bet that the members of Zoroaster spent nine months in the womb with Saint Vitus and Cathedral being piped in by headphones strapped to their mothers’ bellies? With maybe some “ba-dum, ba-dum” white blues thrown in…
Dog Magic, the latest release by these three Atlanta-based doomsayers, is a crash course in Stoner Drone 101. The guys certainly know where they came from; progenitors like Electric Wizard and Sleep are all over this freakin’ thing, but guitarist Will Fiore and company are clever enough to channel the spirits of their inspirations through subtle tribute, and not a rehashing.
Dog Magic is an audio definition of stoner metal. Some riffs come crawling up out of your speakers like mutated zombie crocodiles from the sewer in a 70s grindhouse flick; others slow down to a veritable ooze so thick you’ll have to scrub down your body with Lava soap after a single listen; and once you get to the 14-minute oil-drip epic that is “Algebra of Need,” you can count the seconds between notes in the riffs. You want solos? Well, too bad, you ain’t getting any. Wait, what? Those ridiculously sustained lead lines on “The Book” that sound like a demonic ambulance siren heralding the impending journey of some agonized soul across the river Styx? Those are solos? Oh okay, my bad.
Occasionally the album moves along at a pace more brisk than a brontosaurus; the titular closer starts off with some immediately post-binge Motorhead grooves, but soon slinks back into its familiar tempo. And while flyers of the doom flag will find no fault in that (this writer certainly doesn’t), less experienced metalloids will likely find themselves bored or confused.
But that’s their own fault…screw ‘em. Zoroaster is by far the heaviest thing to come out of Georgia since Mastodon, and Dog Magic firmly entrenches them alongside the elite of both Southern and stoner metal. Turn up the volume, light ‘em if you got ‘em, and wait for the bottom to drop out.
Concert review: Coheed and Cambria
Coheed and Cambria, Clutch, and Fall of Troy
The Tabernacle
Ah, Tabernacle. Where once the peal of church bells rang out into the grimy Atlanta night, choirs lauded the love of God, and congregations…er, congregated to press their otherworldly cases. I wonder if, even then, the venue had deteriorated into a veritable cesspool of limited parking and horrible area road planning?
No matter; the place is now one of the city’s most celebrated music venues, usually playing host to the variety of metal and rock tours that fall somewhere in between the commercial success of He is Legend (the Masquerade) and U2 (the Fox). Yes, the Tabernacle has long been a place of welcome for genre stalwarts, as well as talented upstarts that may or may not soon die a slow, slow marketing death from overexposure.
Sci-fi progressive dork-rockers (and I say that with all the fanboy love in my heart) Coheed and Cambria stopped off this past Tuesday in support of the recently released No World For Tomorrow, with Southern metal legends Clutch directly in tow, which I guess means that Fall of Troy brought up the precious little dented red caboose at the end.
I somehow managed to find a parking space and haul ass inside just as Fall of Troy was kicking off their set. Honestly, I had never listened to these guys before, so I asked my friend Jake when I got there “So, what do they sound like?” Without hesitating for a moment, he replied: “Dude, like Coheed in high school.” Jake should be a music writer; I couldn’t come up with a more apt description if I tried (which I didn’t), though Thomas Erak is significantly more tap-happy than Claudio ever thought about being. These dudes listen to a LOT of Aphex Twin. Great set, but they got the loudest pop when they hyped up the next two bands. Meh, so it goes.
Clutch absolutely murdered the room, playing with the bourbon-fueled swagger of a band that has nothing left to prove, and the jolting ferocity of one that has everything to prove. Over one hour of booze-addled, Skynrd-on-quaaludes brilliance. During the set, some tweener in front of me wearing a 30 Seconds to Mars hoodie remarked “What the hell am I listening to?” Before he was able to get his clove cigarette out of the pack, I grabbed him by the throat and shook him like an Etch-A-Sketch, salivating and shouting “GREATNESS, YOU FOOL, GREATNESS!!!” I may have some demons.
As surely as I sit here in my pajamas at 10:30 in the morning, Coheed and Cambria are one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen. Ever. Eschewing their expected openers “In Keeping Secrets of the Silent Earth,” or “Welcome Home,” Claudio (whose hair has reached epic proportions in its own right) and company instead came thundering out of the gates with “No World for Tomorrow,” jumpstarting a monstrous set that spanned all four albums and hitting nearly every fan favorite. The single ovations for songs like “A Favor House Atlantic,” and “Ten Speed of God’s Blood and Burial” rivaled the reactions that most bands get for their entire set. The screaming and applause for “Everything Evil” alone had to register at least a 6.5 on the Richter.
My last words? “Bury me with my photo pass.”
Note: Flash photography wasn’t permitted at this show, though I was able to squeeze off a few good shots of Fall of Troy. If you want to know what the rest of my pictures would have looked like without the flash, find some stock photos and then shake your head from side to side until you can feel your brain banging against your skull.
The Tabernacle
Ah, Tabernacle. Where once the peal of church bells rang out into the grimy Atlanta night, choirs lauded the love of God, and congregations…er, congregated to press their otherworldly cases. I wonder if, even then, the venue had deteriorated into a veritable cesspool of limited parking and horrible area road planning?
No matter; the place is now one of the city’s most celebrated music venues, usually playing host to the variety of metal and rock tours that fall somewhere in between the commercial success of He is Legend (the Masquerade) and U2 (the Fox). Yes, the Tabernacle has long been a place of welcome for genre stalwarts, as well as talented upstarts that may or may not soon die a slow, slow marketing death from overexposure.
Sci-fi progressive dork-rockers (and I say that with all the fanboy love in my heart) Coheed and Cambria stopped off this past Tuesday in support of the recently released No World For Tomorrow, with Southern metal legends Clutch directly in tow, which I guess means that Fall of Troy brought up the precious little dented red caboose at the end.
I somehow managed to find a parking space and haul ass inside just as Fall of Troy was kicking off their set. Honestly, I had never listened to these guys before, so I asked my friend Jake when I got there “So, what do they sound like?” Without hesitating for a moment, he replied: “Dude, like Coheed in high school.” Jake should be a music writer; I couldn’t come up with a more apt description if I tried (which I didn’t), though Thomas Erak is significantly more tap-happy than Claudio ever thought about being. These dudes listen to a LOT of Aphex Twin. Great set, but they got the loudest pop when they hyped up the next two bands. Meh, so it goes.
Clutch absolutely murdered the room, playing with the bourbon-fueled swagger of a band that has nothing left to prove, and the jolting ferocity of one that has everything to prove. Over one hour of booze-addled, Skynrd-on-quaaludes brilliance. During the set, some tweener in front of me wearing a 30 Seconds to Mars hoodie remarked “What the hell am I listening to?” Before he was able to get his clove cigarette out of the pack, I grabbed him by the throat and shook him like an Etch-A-Sketch, salivating and shouting “GREATNESS, YOU FOOL, GREATNESS!!!” I may have some demons.
As surely as I sit here in my pajamas at 10:30 in the morning, Coheed and Cambria are one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen. Ever. Eschewing their expected openers “In Keeping Secrets of the Silent Earth,” or “Welcome Home,” Claudio (whose hair has reached epic proportions in its own right) and company instead came thundering out of the gates with “No World for Tomorrow,” jumpstarting a monstrous set that spanned all four albums and hitting nearly every fan favorite. The single ovations for songs like “A Favor House Atlantic,” and “Ten Speed of God’s Blood and Burial” rivaled the reactions that most bands get for their entire set. The screaming and applause for “Everything Evil” alone had to register at least a 6.5 on the Richter.
My last words? “Bury me with my photo pass.”
Note: Flash photography wasn’t permitted at this show, though I was able to squeeze off a few good shots of Fall of Troy. If you want to know what the rest of my pictures would have looked like without the flash, find some stock photos and then shake your head from side to side until you can feel your brain banging against your skull.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Springsteen vs. O'Reilley
I have a confession to make. To admit the forthcoming fact to any other living human being, let alone myself, is somewhat akin, in my own mind at least, to getting an enema by way of sea urchin, but it serves as the basis for a short rant.
I watched "The O'Reilley Factor" tonight.
Now normally, neither sheer morbid curiosity nor the promise of untold wealth and omnipotent knowledge could persuade me to watch that glorified Macy's Day float's noggin ramble on and on about the evils of liberal media. The reprehensibly short-sighted nonsense that unfurls from Bill's mouth makes about as much sense as a 21-gun salute for Jerry Falwell at the Maryland Death Fest (you may not know what that is, but it doesn't sound pretty, now does it?). Tonight, however, my interest was piqued beyond the point of reason.
I was on the elliptical machine at the YMCA, burning off some M&Ms, when I saw a preview for The O'Reilley Factor set to air that night. For the first 15 seconds, it was pretty predictable: torture is OK as long as we know its going on, Obama won't wear an American flag pin and therefore is a fascist baby-eater, yadda yadda yadda. After that, however, something managed to break through the daydream I was having about drinking stouts in the mountains with Angela Gossow (gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying lead singer of melodic Swedish death metal group Arch Enemy...for those playing the home game) after having won the Pulitzer for my epic poem Do Dogs Have Communes on Mars?
The headline flashed up before me like a neon sign gone retarded--The Boss: Anti-American?
"The Boss," of course, refers to Bruce Springsteen, arguably the greatest Americana songwriter of this generation, and the "Anti-American" refers to not only his having been staunchly liberal and outspoken during his entire career, but also to recent comments he made in an interview with Scott Pelley in which he decried the torture of terror suspects, the rampant wire-tapping of the Patriot Act, vote blocking in the 2000 election, and more.
Now, it doesn't bother me that much that O'Reilly calls Springsteen an anti-American, or says that the things against which the Boss is railing never really happened. Those are easily refuted by anyone with a high-school education and a computer, so we'll leave that dead horse alone for a while...till I get bored. Hell, it doesn't even really bother me that O'Reilley called Bruce to task on his comments, demanding that he come on Bill's show and back them up...Bill knows that Bruce is on tour, and is going to be for the remainder of the year. Such is the nature of his occupation; and how safe it is for O'Reilley to say something like that when he knows full well that there isn't a chance Springsteen can get away from his tour for a few minutes so that he can tell Bill O'Reilly where to stick it.
No, what bothers me is this paraphrase: "Bruce Springsteen and other high-profile musicians like him use their occupation and their music to try to convince the country that their own personal position on things is correct."
This from a pundit who goes on national television several times a week and calls "BULL!" to anyone who disagrees with him--and is usually right.
This from a pundit who makes a living bullying his guests.
This from a pundit makes a living telling people what to believe and where to stand on issues.
This from a pundit guilty of almost as much double-talk as the administration he so blindly and vehemently supports.
I watched "The O'Reilley Factor" tonight.
Now normally, neither sheer morbid curiosity nor the promise of untold wealth and omnipotent knowledge could persuade me to watch that glorified Macy's Day float's noggin ramble on and on about the evils of liberal media. The reprehensibly short-sighted nonsense that unfurls from Bill's mouth makes about as much sense as a 21-gun salute for Jerry Falwell at the Maryland Death Fest (you may not know what that is, but it doesn't sound pretty, now does it?). Tonight, however, my interest was piqued beyond the point of reason.
I was on the elliptical machine at the YMCA, burning off some M&Ms, when I saw a preview for The O'Reilley Factor set to air that night. For the first 15 seconds, it was pretty predictable: torture is OK as long as we know its going on, Obama won't wear an American flag pin and therefore is a fascist baby-eater, yadda yadda yadda. After that, however, something managed to break through the daydream I was having about drinking stouts in the mountains with Angela Gossow (gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying lead singer of melodic Swedish death metal group Arch Enemy...for those playing the home game) after having won the Pulitzer for my epic poem Do Dogs Have Communes on Mars?
The headline flashed up before me like a neon sign gone retarded--The Boss: Anti-American?
"The Boss," of course, refers to Bruce Springsteen, arguably the greatest Americana songwriter of this generation, and the "Anti-American" refers to not only his having been staunchly liberal and outspoken during his entire career, but also to recent comments he made in an interview with Scott Pelley in which he decried the torture of terror suspects, the rampant wire-tapping of the Patriot Act, vote blocking in the 2000 election, and more.
Now, it doesn't bother me that much that O'Reilly calls Springsteen an anti-American, or says that the things against which the Boss is railing never really happened. Those are easily refuted by anyone with a high-school education and a computer, so we'll leave that dead horse alone for a while...till I get bored. Hell, it doesn't even really bother me that O'Reilley called Bruce to task on his comments, demanding that he come on Bill's show and back them up...Bill knows that Bruce is on tour, and is going to be for the remainder of the year. Such is the nature of his occupation; and how safe it is for O'Reilley to say something like that when he knows full well that there isn't a chance Springsteen can get away from his tour for a few minutes so that he can tell Bill O'Reilly where to stick it.
No, what bothers me is this paraphrase: "Bruce Springsteen and other high-profile musicians like him use their occupation and their music to try to convince the country that their own personal position on things is correct."
This from a pundit who goes on national television several times a week and calls "BULL!" to anyone who disagrees with him--and is usually right.
This from a pundit who makes a living bullying his guests.
This from a pundit makes a living telling people what to believe and where to stand on issues.
This from a pundit guilty of almost as much double-talk as the administration he so blindly and vehemently supports.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
2000 Election: READ THIS
For any of you that, like myself, still find time in your busy schedules to wax/harp philosophic about the supreme cluster**** that was the 2000 election, you need to read this. Is it a rehash? Damn right, but certain issues need to be rehashed again and again and again, if only so that the populace doesn't forget that it was screwed during that November.
Check this out. In months leading up to the November election, FL Secretary of State Catherine Harris, with the assistance and approval of Governer Jeb Bush, instructed local election supervisors to purge over 57,000 voters from the registries, all of them supposedly (the operative word here) ex-cons who weren't allowed to vote within the state.
At LEAST 90% of those people were innocent; and by "innocent," I don't mean inmates that were later proven to be without guilt, but that those 90% were never cons to begin with. What's more, over 54% of those purged were either African American or Hispanic.
Cut to 2002. President Bush signs into effect the Help America Vote Act (HAVA), an initiative that not only lionizes those purges, but required that all 50 states put similar measures into effect. Its anyone's guess as to whether or not John Kerry would have had a chance anyway (let's face it...I voted for him, but the guy did kind of remind me of a backwoods Lurch), but those practices were put into effect during the 2004 election as well.
Following the initial purge, NAACP lawyers (in admittedly one of their only legitimate causes of the past few years) sued the state, after which Harris and Bush promised to return the voters to the registries. The sum total of these previously purged individuals was over 91,000.
In one such case, an African American man named Willie Steen was taken off, simply because of the unfortunate similarity of his name to an inmate "O'Steen."
Want some more stats? In Gadsden County, which is 58% black, there is an extremely high "spoiler" rate on ballots: one out of every eight is cast, but not counted. Right next door in white-majority Leon County, the spoiler rate is only 1 out of every 500. Hell of a coincidence.
Florida's electorate is 11 percent African-American. Florida refused to count 179,855 spoiled ballots. A little junior high school algebra applied to commission numbers indicates that 54 percent, or 97,000, of the votes "spoiled" were cast by black folk, of whom more than 90 percent chose Gore. The nonblack vote divided about evenly between Gore and Bush. Therefore, had Harris allowed the counting of these ballots, Al Gore would have racked up a plurality of about 87,000 votes in Florida--162 times Bush's official margin of victory.
And finally:
In the 2000 election, 1.9 million national votes cast were never counted. Spoiled for technical reasons, like writing in Gore's name, machine malfunctions and so on. The reasons for ballot rejection vary, but there's a suspicious shading to the ballots tossed into the dumpster. Edley's team of Harvard experts discovered that just as in Florida, the number of ballots spoiled was--county by county, precinct by precinct--in direct proportion to the local black voting population.
"Living in America...unh, I FEEL GOOD!"
In case you want a source: http://www.thenation.com/doc/20040517/palast
Check this out. In months leading up to the November election, FL Secretary of State Catherine Harris, with the assistance and approval of Governer Jeb Bush, instructed local election supervisors to purge over 57,000 voters from the registries, all of them supposedly (the operative word here) ex-cons who weren't allowed to vote within the state.
At LEAST 90% of those people were innocent; and by "innocent," I don't mean inmates that were later proven to be without guilt, but that those 90% were never cons to begin with. What's more, over 54% of those purged were either African American or Hispanic.
Cut to 2002. President Bush signs into effect the Help America Vote Act (HAVA), an initiative that not only lionizes those purges, but required that all 50 states put similar measures into effect. Its anyone's guess as to whether or not John Kerry would have had a chance anyway (let's face it...I voted for him, but the guy did kind of remind me of a backwoods Lurch), but those practices were put into effect during the 2004 election as well.
Following the initial purge, NAACP lawyers (in admittedly one of their only legitimate causes of the past few years) sued the state, after which Harris and Bush promised to return the voters to the registries. The sum total of these previously purged individuals was over 91,000.
In one such case, an African American man named Willie Steen was taken off, simply because of the unfortunate similarity of his name to an inmate "O'Steen."
Want some more stats? In Gadsden County, which is 58% black, there is an extremely high "spoiler" rate on ballots: one out of every eight is cast, but not counted. Right next door in white-majority Leon County, the spoiler rate is only 1 out of every 500. Hell of a coincidence.
Florida's electorate is 11 percent African-American. Florida refused to count 179,855 spoiled ballots. A little junior high school algebra applied to commission numbers indicates that 54 percent, or 97,000, of the votes "spoiled" were cast by black folk, of whom more than 90 percent chose Gore. The nonblack vote divided about evenly between Gore and Bush. Therefore, had Harris allowed the counting of these ballots, Al Gore would have racked up a plurality of about 87,000 votes in Florida--162 times Bush's official margin of victory.
And finally:
In the 2000 election, 1.9 million national votes cast were never counted. Spoiled for technical reasons, like writing in Gore's name, machine malfunctions and so on. The reasons for ballot rejection vary, but there's a suspicious shading to the ballots tossed into the dumpster. Edley's team of Harvard experts discovered that just as in Florida, the number of ballots spoiled was--county by county, precinct by precinct--in direct proportion to the local black voting population.
"Living in America...unh, I FEEL GOOD!"
In case you want a source: http://www.thenation.com/doc/20040517/palast
Zoroaster "Dog Magic" review: Doom Metal for Dummies (in a good way)
Dog Magic
Zoroaster
Terminal Doom Records
Available Now
How much do you want to bet that the members of Zoroaster spent nine months in the womb with Saint Vitus and Cathedral being piped in by headphones strapped to their mothers’ bellies? With maybe some “ba-dum, ba-dum” white blues thrown in…
Dog Magic, the latest release by these three Atlanta-based doomsayers, is a crash course in Stoner Drone 101. The guys certainly know where they came from; progenitors like Electric Wizard and Sleep are all over this freakin’ thing, but guitarist Will Fiore and company are clever enough to channel the spirits of their inspirations through subtle tribute, and not a rehashing.
Dog Magic is an audio definition of stoner metal. Some riffs come crawling up out of your speakers like mutated zombie crocodiles from the sewer in a 70s grindhouse flick; others slow down to a veritable ooze so thick you’ll have to scrub down your body with Lava soap after a single listen; and once you get to the 14-minute oil-drip epic that is “Algebra of Need,” you can count the seconds between notes in the riffs. You want solos? Well, too bad, you ain’t getting any. Wait, what? Those ridiculously sustained lead lines on “The Book” that sound like a demonic ambulance siren heralding the impending journey of some agonized soul across the river Styx? Those are solos? Oh okay, my bad.
Occasionally the album moves along at a pace more brisk than a brontosaurus; the titular closer starts off with some immediately post-binge Motorhead grooves, but soon slinks back into its familiar tempo. And while flyers of the doom flag will find no fault in that (this writer certainly doesn’t), less experienced metalloids will likely find themselves bored or confused.
But that’s their own fault…screw ‘em. Zoroaster is by far the heaviest thing to come out of Georgia since Mastodon, and Dog Magic firmly entrenches them alongside the elite of both Southern and stoner metal. Turn up the volume, light ‘em if you got ‘em, and wait for the bottom to drop out.
Zoroaster
Terminal Doom Records
Available Now
How much do you want to bet that the members of Zoroaster spent nine months in the womb with Saint Vitus and Cathedral being piped in by headphones strapped to their mothers’ bellies? With maybe some “ba-dum, ba-dum” white blues thrown in…
Dog Magic, the latest release by these three Atlanta-based doomsayers, is a crash course in Stoner Drone 101. The guys certainly know where they came from; progenitors like Electric Wizard and Sleep are all over this freakin’ thing, but guitarist Will Fiore and company are clever enough to channel the spirits of their inspirations through subtle tribute, and not a rehashing.
Dog Magic is an audio definition of stoner metal. Some riffs come crawling up out of your speakers like mutated zombie crocodiles from the sewer in a 70s grindhouse flick; others slow down to a veritable ooze so thick you’ll have to scrub down your body with Lava soap after a single listen; and once you get to the 14-minute oil-drip epic that is “Algebra of Need,” you can count the seconds between notes in the riffs. You want solos? Well, too bad, you ain’t getting any. Wait, what? Those ridiculously sustained lead lines on “The Book” that sound like a demonic ambulance siren heralding the impending journey of some agonized soul across the river Styx? Those are solos? Oh okay, my bad.
Occasionally the album moves along at a pace more brisk than a brontosaurus; the titular closer starts off with some immediately post-binge Motorhead grooves, but soon slinks back into its familiar tempo. And while flyers of the doom flag will find no fault in that (this writer certainly doesn’t), less experienced metalloids will likely find themselves bored or confused.
But that’s their own fault…screw ‘em. Zoroaster is by far the heaviest thing to come out of Georgia since Mastodon, and Dog Magic firmly entrenches them alongside the elite of both Southern and stoner metal. Turn up the volume, light ‘em if you got ‘em, and wait for the bottom to drop out.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Ahmadinejad: Last Comic Standing
Much ado has been made about Iranian President Ahmadinejad's visit and speech engagement at Columbia University this past week. Local talking heads (or, as the case may be, disembodied voices) have damned the university's decision to even allow the president to appear and address the body of students, professors, lay people, and activists. In light of this man's worse-than-questionable politicking, despicable human rights record, not to mention his flat-out insanity that seems to stem from a certain inexcusable degree of stubborn ignorance, I can't say I blame their sentiments.
Protesters, consisting of members from various gay, feminist, and human rights organizations, gathered outside of the university to decry the event as well. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson couldn't make it, as they were down in Jena attempting to siphon some PR from another issue. But that's another story.
Like I said, Ahmadinejad's appearance was protested on its very basis. But, the president of Columbia U. was thinking farther ahead than those who congregated outside to protest. You see, he knows very well the power of free speech in this country...both its ability to build up, and to destroy. In a very obvious way, one that was tragically missed by various pundits, this event achieved the former for us, and the latter for Iran's president.
In his speech, Ahmadinejad let loose with some aburdist gems, such as questioning the occurrence of the Holocaust, and stating that "there are no homosexuals in Iran," the latter of which drew some combined ire and laughter from the packed auditorium.
My point is this: whether or not this was the sole objective of Columbia in allowing him to come here, they in effect gave him permission to come over and act like a complete fool. Good for us, at least in terms of entertainment value.
Protesters, consisting of members from various gay, feminist, and human rights organizations, gathered outside of the university to decry the event as well. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson couldn't make it, as they were down in Jena attempting to siphon some PR from another issue. But that's another story.
Like I said, Ahmadinejad's appearance was protested on its very basis. But, the president of Columbia U. was thinking farther ahead than those who congregated outside to protest. You see, he knows very well the power of free speech in this country...both its ability to build up, and to destroy. In a very obvious way, one that was tragically missed by various pundits, this event achieved the former for us, and the latter for Iran's president.
In his speech, Ahmadinejad let loose with some aburdist gems, such as questioning the occurrence of the Holocaust, and stating that "there are no homosexuals in Iran," the latter of which drew some combined ire and laughter from the packed auditorium.
My point is this: whether or not this was the sole objective of Columbia in allowing him to come here, they in effect gave him permission to come over and act like a complete fool. Good for us, at least in terms of entertainment value.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Voodoo Glow Skulls, "Southern California Street Music," review
Southern California Street Music
Voodoo Glow Skulls
Victory Records
Available now
Let’s get one thing straight here, people: Voodoo Glow Skulls are not here to challenge your perception of what music is or should be, to make you step outside of your little tonal bubble and get sideswiped by distorted jazz scales played at 300 miles per hour, and they are DEFINITELY not here to revolutionize a damn thing.
Basically, the Casillas brothers and company just want you to smoke a blunt, knock back a 40 and have some fun.
It’s difficult, however, to simply throw Southern California Street Music on the stereo and contentedly allow it to be nothing more than roughly 45 minutes of background music. There’s a punk history lesson embedded in the work of VGS, and if you expend the same amount of energy it takes the average person to dissect two minutes of “21st Century Schizoid Man,” a vastly more knowledgeable listener will you become, young padowan.
Most songs on Street Music follow the same basic formula: three-to-five chords, atonally shouted vocals, steady snare/kick beats, and horn parts (trombone and sax) providing little ska flourishes throughout. The majority of the tracks exhibit the guys’ sense of humor; “Say Hello to My Little Friend,” and “Home is Where the Heart(ache) Is,” are prime examples. There are a couple of serious ones here as well, but the real treasure is “The Ballad of Froggy McNasty,” a three-minute tragicomedy that plays like Flogging Molly lost in the barrio.
And can I just say, Eddie Casillas is probably the most underrated punk guitarist since East Bay Ray? There, I wrote you a couplet.
Like I said, this isn’t the kind of thing to expedite your thought process, but VGS’s high-octane, booze-fueled concoction of ska and hardcore is one of the more fun records to come along this year. Kind of like a shotgun firing jellybeans. I think.
Voodoo Glow Skulls
Victory Records
Available now
Let’s get one thing straight here, people: Voodoo Glow Skulls are not here to challenge your perception of what music is or should be, to make you step outside of your little tonal bubble and get sideswiped by distorted jazz scales played at 300 miles per hour, and they are DEFINITELY not here to revolutionize a damn thing.
Basically, the Casillas brothers and company just want you to smoke a blunt, knock back a 40 and have some fun.
It’s difficult, however, to simply throw Southern California Street Music on the stereo and contentedly allow it to be nothing more than roughly 45 minutes of background music. There’s a punk history lesson embedded in the work of VGS, and if you expend the same amount of energy it takes the average person to dissect two minutes of “21st Century Schizoid Man,” a vastly more knowledgeable listener will you become, young padowan.
Most songs on Street Music follow the same basic formula: three-to-five chords, atonally shouted vocals, steady snare/kick beats, and horn parts (trombone and sax) providing little ska flourishes throughout. The majority of the tracks exhibit the guys’ sense of humor; “Say Hello to My Little Friend,” and “Home is Where the Heart(ache) Is,” are prime examples. There are a couple of serious ones here as well, but the real treasure is “The Ballad of Froggy McNasty,” a three-minute tragicomedy that plays like Flogging Molly lost in the barrio.
And can I just say, Eddie Casillas is probably the most underrated punk guitarist since East Bay Ray? There, I wrote you a couplet.
Like I said, this isn’t the kind of thing to expedite your thought process, but VGS’s high-octane, booze-fueled concoction of ska and hardcore is one of the more fun records to come along this year. Kind of like a shotgun firing jellybeans. I think.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Witchcraft "The Alchemist" review
"The Alchemist"
Witchcraft
Rise Above Records
Oct. 23
AUGUSTA, GA. - Every now and then, an album comes along that you can tell, simply by listening to the first 20 seconds, that it’s going to be a masterpiece. It oozes that vibe, but the purpose is clear; your course is charted for you in the first riffs, though you know full well you’re going to encounter detours, dead ends, and possibly a lyre-strumming goblin or two along the way.
Black Sabbath’s Paranoid. Savoy Brown’s Looking In. Dillinger Escape Plan’s Miss Machine. Isis’ Oceanic…and anything by Between the freakin’ Buried and Me.
Add Witchcraft’s The Alchemist to that list. Though the Cream-leaning Swedes have been laying down doomy, incessant grooves for going on six years now, this newest effort finds the band at its creative peak, finally nailing a psychedelic stride.
There is in every song a seamless union of laissez-faire and unrelenting heaviness, its cohesiveness largely owing to the dudes’ knack for deceptive and aggressive melodies. From the first overlapping Keef-meets-Iommi riffs of “Walk Between the Lines,” to the fuzzed-out conclusion of the 14-minute title epic, your mind will feel like its swimming in mud…soon as you climb out, though, you’ll realize your foot was tapping the entire time.
The guitar tandem of Magnus Pelander and John Hoyles is what might have happened had George Harrison hooked up with Matt Pike in the early 70s. These guys are a riff factory…period. A wall of low-end density one minute, and a barrage of wah-tinged leads the next, they don’t need B-tuned guitars or “death” settings on a Line 6 amp to leave your skull absolutely cleft in twain. Witness “Hey Doctor” and “If Crimson Was Your Colour” for some particularly blunt examples.
And oh yeah…let’s not forget Ola Henriksson whomping your psyche upside its head with the fattest effing bass lines since Ginger Baker, or Fredrik Hansson flat-out abusing his kit, not to mention threatening your personal well-being, with his thunderous Bonham-on-quaaludes beats.
With The Alchemist, Witchcraft have moved beyond the musical cubicle of “stoner rock” or “throwback;” they’ve created something timeless, something so absolutely all-encompassing, that it will undoubtedly hold its own against any metal opus or thud-rock masterwork already included in the hard rock canon. Ladies and gents—this is how you do it.
Witchcraft
Rise Above Records
Oct. 23
AUGUSTA, GA. - Every now and then, an album comes along that you can tell, simply by listening to the first 20 seconds, that it’s going to be a masterpiece. It oozes that vibe, but the purpose is clear; your course is charted for you in the first riffs, though you know full well you’re going to encounter detours, dead ends, and possibly a lyre-strumming goblin or two along the way.
Black Sabbath’s Paranoid. Savoy Brown’s Looking In. Dillinger Escape Plan’s Miss Machine. Isis’ Oceanic…and anything by Between the freakin’ Buried and Me.
Add Witchcraft’s The Alchemist to that list. Though the Cream-leaning Swedes have been laying down doomy, incessant grooves for going on six years now, this newest effort finds the band at its creative peak, finally nailing a psychedelic stride.
There is in every song a seamless union of laissez-faire and unrelenting heaviness, its cohesiveness largely owing to the dudes’ knack for deceptive and aggressive melodies. From the first overlapping Keef-meets-Iommi riffs of “Walk Between the Lines,” to the fuzzed-out conclusion of the 14-minute title epic, your mind will feel like its swimming in mud…soon as you climb out, though, you’ll realize your foot was tapping the entire time.
The guitar tandem of Magnus Pelander and John Hoyles is what might have happened had George Harrison hooked up with Matt Pike in the early 70s. These guys are a riff factory…period. A wall of low-end density one minute, and a barrage of wah-tinged leads the next, they don’t need B-tuned guitars or “death” settings on a Line 6 amp to leave your skull absolutely cleft in twain. Witness “Hey Doctor” and “If Crimson Was Your Colour” for some particularly blunt examples.
And oh yeah…let’s not forget Ola Henriksson whomping your psyche upside its head with the fattest effing bass lines since Ginger Baker, or Fredrik Hansson flat-out abusing his kit, not to mention threatening your personal well-being, with his thunderous Bonham-on-quaaludes beats.
With The Alchemist, Witchcraft have moved beyond the musical cubicle of “stoner rock” or “throwback;” they’ve created something timeless, something so absolutely all-encompassing, that it will undoubtedly hold its own against any metal opus or thud-rock masterwork already included in the hard rock canon. Ladies and gents—this is how you do it.
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