COCK ROCK LIVES ON
Album Review - Electric Six: Señor Smoke
8/10
by Justin Touretz
Supposedly, glam, pop, disco, and arena rock died as interesting musical genres several decades ago, yet Electric Six have returned with an even more eccentric album than their freshman debut, Fire. After dealing with several lineup changes and not even having a label in the U.K., these eccentric rockers kick out the jams with Señor Smoke, a musical and lyrical improvement even if it lacks the radio single potential seen in Fire’s “Danger! High Voltage” or “Gay Bar.” It may have taken these Detroit rockers a full calendar year after being released overseas for Señor Smoke to get put out in the U.S., but as the success of rocking goofballs like The Darkness have shown, there is always room for quirky rockers—those who pronounce “city” like “ci-tay” with egos flaunted more than the cucumbers they stuff down their skin-tight plants.
After listening to Señor Smoke for more than 20 seconds at any given time, it is hardly surprising to learn that the band once referred to themselves as Fuxedo. This is the soundtrack to the party you always secretly wanted to be at, but would only admit to after an hour-long shower using sandpaper to wipe off your filth. In fact, the album starts off so fast that it can’t help but lose some steam in its final third, but the album ends in a smash as they cover arena-heroes Queen’s “Radio GaGa,” a perfect homage to their fun-loving brethren.
The blaring of police sirens throughout Señor Smoke’s first two songs, “Rock and Roll Evacuation” and “Devil Nights,” ignites the raucous atmosphere. Be prepared for a furious kick in the face with the sole of rock and roll. If you can keep your feet from stomping or busting out of your chair to dance around your room like you were in one of those iPod commercials, call an ambulance, ‘cause you’re a dead man walking.
Electric Six may not go deep politically, as their most poignant declarations come in “Rock and Roll Evacuation” as lead singer Dick Valentine declares, “Mr. President, I don’t like you/ You don’t know how to rock!” or in “Jimmy Carter,” which sounds as if it were sung by South Park’s Trey Parker or Matt Stone, as he rhymes “Jimmy Carter” with “electric underwear,” but it’s damn funny.
Other album highlights come in “Dance Epidemic” a “so bad, it’s good” song that seems to have fallen out of The Karate Kid soundtrack. And who doesn’t love a little ‘80s cheese? Not to mention “Vibrator” with the emotively moving lyrics of “She don’t, she don’t, she don’t need no vibrator/ She don’t, she don’t, she don’t need no/ Electric entertainer tonight, investigator.”
The zany guys of Electric Six are here to wake up our tight-assed world by delivering an album that can’t be described in any terms suitable for children to read. This is a great party record that would make Andrew W.K. cry in happiness.
WICKED BAD
Book Review - Gregory Maguire: Son of a Witch
3/10
by Erin McCarthy
Today, the word “Oz” has many connotations: a literary fantasyland, a violent prison, and a symbol for the gay community. Gregory Maguire, in his bestseller, Wicked, created an Oz that is an amalgamation of all three ideals. In Son of a Witch, its sequel, Maguire once again returns to the world he created on the foundation of the original children’s book, but this one is filled with political unrest, violence, confusion, chaos, and sex.
Wicked is the story of the notorious Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba, whom Maguire paints as a completely misunderstood character while Son of a Witch’s protagonist is Liir, who may be Elphaba’s son. Liir is completely alone in the world now that she has died and needs answers. Where is his possible half-sister, Nor, who was captured by the Wizard of Oz’s soldiers? What is his destiny now that Elphaba is dead? Where will he find a family and someone to love? And most importantly, was Elphaba his mother? Maguire poses all of these questions in the latter part of Wicked and reinforces them at the beginning of Son of a Witch.
Maguire’s book is as confused as his main character. The first half of the book flips between a few different scenarios: Liir leaving the West and traveling to the Emerald City after Elphaba’s death, Liir in a coma years later at a mauntery (convent) under the care of a mysterious maid, Candle, and maunts (Maguire’s word for nuns) searching for answers to murders in the West. You know the three events are linked, but Maguire runs away with his own story and only gives faint hints about the connections and the point of all this chaos. The story lacks direction and provides very little motive for the reader to even want to figure out what is going on in this bizarre mess.
The sense that Maguire has left a few of the chapters in his head continues into the latter part of the story. He would have been better off answering all the questions he poses directly and abandoning about half the book, which consists of pointless, boring information. For example, where is his half-sister? By the end, Maguire alludes to the fact that she’s alive, but this is supposed to be a major component of the book, and it’s frustrating that he refuses to tell you where she is, what she is doing, and why she is doing it. Maguire loves to put forward questions and give ambiguous answers, which was irritating when I felt I had to hang in there to get responses to questions that weren’t at all satisfying or interesting.
In Wicked, Liir is a dull, weak, clumsy character, so Maguire’s book is a fitting tribute to his already established disposition. There are a few moments of interest, but most of the time, I wondered why he bothered to write a sequel about such a silly individual. If you read Wicked, you’ll want to read Son of a Witch, but I’m not really sure if you’ll like it. This is supposed to be a coming of age tale about the Wicked Witch of the West’s son, but the only thing I learned is that her most wicked action was giving birth to a child that inspired an even more ridiculous book.
JUST LIKE A BROKEN RECORD
Album Review - Yellowcard: Lights and Sounds
2/10
by Amanda Lerman
Yellowcard is just another emo, mainstream, untalented MTV junkie to add to the list. Although they scored a heavy-selling album called Ocean Avenue and a MTV2 award, their small burst of credibility went downhill when they introduced their new album, Lights and Sounds. The album may consist of a few catchy songs and several quality guitar solos, but overall it lacks flair and talent, and it is unworthy of your time and money.
Pleasant, melodic piano lines introduce the album with a clever, soothing atmosphere, establishing hope for a unique album. However, this first song, “Three Flights Up,” tries too hard to mimic the sound of Coldplay, containing lush, slowly paced strings to recreate their mood for their audience. This track may be one of the few with some extent of uniqueness, with the assistance of their distinguished use of the violin, played by Sean Macklin. Macklin helps make this first song the success it is.
The attempted momentum in the opening track tries to continue throughout the album, which miserably attempts an edgy rock flair, but only succeeds to imitate the ever so popular pop/punk sensation. Yellowcard introduces their political views in “Two Weeks from Twenty,” a song using non-traditional writing about a young soldier who served in a war and never returned, but these lyrics are the only quality aspect of this track. Although there are creative, deep lyrics, it’s not catchy enough for you to overlook the fact that it’s terrible.
“Waiting Game,” another song on this album, could easily be mistaken for their previous hit, “Ocean Avenue.” Get over it.
From “Lights and Sounds,” about people easily mistreating others, to “Rough Landing, Holly,” containing fast-paced guitars and drums and a needy theme, to “City of Devils,” a slow feel-bad-for-me ballad, the album is a drag—boring and miserable. It’s more like a cry for help to know how to produce an original record. It appears that they wanted to stay safe and just re-record Ocean Avenue but changed the lyrics slightly and the beats perhaps a teeny bit.
Although some of Yellowcard’s new songs are catchy and may make you want to have a dance party in your room, overall it sounds like the same song over and over again. It’s less polished and less assured, as well as a remake of their previous album. I’m not shocked by the lack of creativity and skill, for I’m sure they’d prefer to stay on the safe side, continue to sell the same “Punky Pop,” wear tight pants, and whine. Don’t cry to me though, I won’t pay to hear you cry about the same stuff.
VETERAN NOVELIST
EXTRAORDINAIRE
Book Review - James Rollins: Map of Bones
9/10
by Joe Speranza
When determining whether to read a book, it is important to keep in mind a certain distinction. There is literature, in which action and adventure take a backseat to depth and well-crafted prose, and there is “Beach Trash,” as it is (wrongfully, in my opinion) called, which offers thrills and excitement, but not much else. Map of Bones is somewhere in between; it’s certainly not Shakespeare, but both the dialogue and plot go further than skin-deep.
Released in May 2005, Rollins’ seventh book begins with the mass-murder of hundreds of parishioners at a midnight mass in Cologne, Germany. According to the only survivor, the killers stole a mysterious biblical object located inside a priceless golden sarcophagus. Immediately, a three-person covert ops team from America is dispatched to the site, and is joined by a gorgeous Italian cop and a Vatican priest to determine who was behind the attack.
From there, the mystery of who did it and why begins to unravel. Despite the apparent lack of character depth, which can be expected when reading a mystery novel, the action and mystery associated with the stolen object plays out at a mind-numbingly fast pace.
If this sounds familiar, that’s probably because it is. There is something intrinsically DaVinci Code-esque with this novel; even the book jackets are almost identical. But this book is significantly better than Dan Brown’s. In Brown’s novel there are only two protagonists attempting to solve the mystery, whereas in Rollins’, there are five. When there are five people working on a case, each next move can be planned and executed a lot more efficiently, which is evident in Bones.
The most intriguing part of the book is when Rollins talks about the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Rachel, the gorgeous Italian cop, finds out that the clue relates to each individual wonder in some way. It is then that the author has a chance to give a brief, extremely interesting history lesson. As much fun as it is to read action and witty conversation, it is equally enjoyable to read about mystifying Hanging Gardens and architectural marvels like the Pharos Lighthouse. Rollins engages the reader in this section by letting the reader in on the secrets inherent with each wonder and how they apply to the mystery at hand.
One thing the book lacks, however, is an ending. Like The DaVinci Code, the last 15 pages are pretty disappointing. It seems like the author didn’t know what to do at the end and, unlike the mighty Jack Bauer, started to improvise poorly. But it isn’t fair to compare him to the second coming of our Savior.
“Beach Trash” is an overused, unfairly critical term used to describe novels of this nature. If you like a good read every now and then, if you seek a book that is smart, mysterious, and stimulating, don’t let the “Trash” branding stop you from picking up a copy.
FASHION WEEK
A Busy Week in New York
by Suzy Kim
The past week has been a pretty busy time in New York. Manhattan was full of VIPs, as celebrities, designers, and socialites rushed to attend a week-long celebration of fashion. From February 3 to 10, Bryant Park hosted the annual Fashion Week where famous designers as well as up and coming designers showcased their work. Fashion Week is a huge event for both designers and potential buyers; designers debut their upcoming collection for the next season and their loyal fans are offered a chance to buy some of the outfits hot off the runway. Many stylists, media personnel, and buyers for boutiques and major malls also attend the shows to get a glimpse of what the next “it” item is.
The reviews are in and designers were both praised and lashed for their work; however, this year, most designers received applause for their collections. The designer to open the runway was Kenneth Cole. His show began with a video clip humorously mocking obsessive catwalking, overuse of the word “fabulous,” and the fashion industry in general. Cole, who according to Vogue “stuck to what he does best: translating the prevailing moods for the aspirational masses,” showed a lot of military-inspired clothes that are fit for both work and play. Another designer acclaimed for his work was Oscar de la Renta, who is famous for luxurious, flowy gowns and bridalwear. His collection consisted of cashmeres with sable trims, coats with tight waists, and classic tuxedo shirts that had a touch of modern taste to them. The most awaited part of the show was his eveningwear gowns. As always, he used a lot of ruffles, embroidery, tulle, and satin, which were both romantic and sexy. It is no wonder that he is often compared to Yves Saint Laurent.
Some of the new faces to the show have already been around the industry for a long time. The Miss Sixty line held its first runway show last week after debuting 15 years ago. Although their clothes are popular with young people around the world, they did not live up to their fame on the runway. The runway collection was rather dull and rigid for Miss Sixty, who usually incorporates a lot of color, texture, and unique cuts to their clothes.
Contestants of the hit show Project Runway also debuted their collection for the first time during Fashion Week. Each of the four designers presented 13 outfits. My favorite collection was by Kara Janx for her use of bold colors and puffy construction. Her designs bring fun and play back into fall collections, which is very rare.
Fashion Week ended last Friday after more than a hundred designers from all over the world strutted their models down the runway. From the luxurious Carolina Herrera’s eveningwear to cool and chic beautifully cut mini dresses of Narcisco Rodriguez to romantic Vera Wang skirts to fun and flirty carefully tailored Marc Jacobs jackets, the week was full of excitement, drama, flair, and, of course, lots of hot models and celebrities. Some of the celebrities seen around the tents were Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan, Christina Milian, Fat Joe, Jenna Jameson, Uma Thurman, Joel Madden, and Jennifer Lopez, who hosted her second runway this year. To view entire collections and photos of celebrities, visit Style.com or olympusfashionweek.com.
SWEET SUGAR POP MAGIC
TV Show Soundtrack Review - One Tree Hill Soundtrack, Vol. 2: Friends With Benefit
7/10
by Jacob Drum
I want to make it clear from the get-go that the music on One Tree Hill is not exactly my cup of tea. Most of the songs are offensive to me.
The soundtrack gets a seven, though, because it is just so good at being what it is: cheesy, heartfelt pop songs to play in the background of overdramatic montages on a teenybopper soap opera.
Start with track two: “The Mixed Tape” by Jack’s Mannequin. This is an average emo song of the Saves The Day/Get Up Kids variety—three or four chords, a decent hook, and desperate, trailing vocals. It sounds like it would be played during a montage of a teenage lover looking dejectedly out a window or looking all over town for a moody boyfriend (or platonic friend that she wants to be a boyfriend) and then finally finding him, of course, at the pier. Or the bridge. Or the park. Or at “our” table in the Food Court.
The musical zenith of the CD—which runs the gamut from Audioslave to Nada Surf to Gavin Degraw to Fall Out Boy—is a track by Michelle Featherstone called “Coffee & Cigarettes.” Her voice is sweet and heartfelt, an effect enhanced by the piano that accompanies it. I remember thanking God halfway through when Featherstone didn’t ruin the song with a guitar or a pop-rock beat. Her lyrics could use work: “But it’s true/ I’m still blue/ but I finally know what to do/ I must quit/ I must quit…you.” But the piano is right on: simple, elegant, and sad, full-sounding chords. This would be played, as so many of these songs probably are, after a break up or the heartthrob calling the nerdy-but-still-TV-hot girl “fat.”
Friends With Benefit has low points, of course, and Jesus, are they low. The CD ends with “For Blue Skies” by Strays Don’t Sleep. Thirty seconds in, I fucking hate this song. Weird synth beat in the background of single, descending notes on a keyboard. It sounds like piano practice. Shit, I have a Casio, too; put me on a soundtrack. Lead singer Matthew Ryan’s voice is overwrought with an attempt to put emotion into a song that musically lacks it. He’s channeling Mellencamp and Bon Jovi on this one. This song is probably played during a funeral scene, or a post-funeral reflection montage—photo albums, bedroom kept just the way it was when Bobby left for the dance, posthumous valedictorian nod, etc.
The odd thing about One Tree Hill is that I can tell that if I’m not exactly right in my scene descriptions, I can’t be far off. All the tracks are airy, slow, noncommittal songs reaching for the teen-angst market. You’d never hear these songs being played over a shot of a cop beating the shit out of a black kid. Actually, you’d probably never see the black kid at all. They’d stop him at the gates of whatever the fuck “One Tree Hill” is and ask him to find another way around or to wait outside until the camera crews leave.
Simply stated, the One Tree Hill soundtrack is safe, middle-of-the-road, middle-America pop music written for a safe, middle-of-the-road, middle-American teen drama.
RIGHTEOUS BABE RECORDS SHOWCASE
Concert Review- Nietzsche’s
8/10
by Peter Scheck
Nietzsche’s, as I discovered Thursday night, is the antiquated equivalent to the city that surrounds it. Inside, peeling wallpaper hangs on the walls in the back of a cabaret-style hall. It hangs dark, drooping, surrounding a giant wooden chandelier in the middle of the room strewn with streamers. It feels like the day after a Sweet Sixteen at Medieval Times, like they’re setting up the club for a Nirvana video shoot. And right in the middle of this moldy, disintegrating club, stands an honest-faced, round-bearded guy surrounded on three sides by well over a hundred of his closest friends.
When I received the press release for the show from Righteous Babe Records, it was explained to me that the night was really designed to gain recognition for some of Buffalo’s best, unknown musicians. When I asked for a ticket, I was told that they didn’t have any to give out for free and that the overall goal was to “really get people out to support local music.”
I thought, “okay,” but then thought about the 30-something woman on the other end of the phone and thought about the last time I saw someone like her at a dive bar on a Tuesday night to see a touring band in a converted old school bus. She said I could pay at the door. I thanked her sarcastically, and took her advice.
On this night, they came out in droves.
It was surprising to see so many people at a small club on a weekday, especially without a big name attraction. Brian Wheat, our bearded hero, had an incredibly warm set. He opened the show with an acoustic set based loosely on interpretations of guitarists Devendra Banhart and Sondre Lerche and sang deliberately, sometimes whispering the words as his eyes darted around the crowd. Behind the hair and the drowsy complexion, he looked like he was hiding something—it was like he dared the audience to breathe. Wheat’s songs are literal and they sound like secrets—even when his songs sound stern or unsure, his voice is prominent in the foreground, even forgiving. The advent of Wheat’s band gave way for variety in performance, even if at times the arrangements didn’t warrant one. With a set of dramatic pieces, Wheat had already captivated his audience. Giving them a hook to look forward to halfway through the song wouldn’t hurt to counter his this-is-the-way-it-fuckin’-is voice.
By the way, drinks at Nietzsche’s aren’t cheap, so my second drink went down as quickly as if it were spiked with cyanide. Then, modesty flew out the window.
Leslie Helpert, from my place at the bar in the front room of the club, sounded crisp and on point. Her guitar playing was accented and fast, portraying the playing of a woman trained classically, trading her strum for a snapping percussion on her strings. She sang with a unique flair and her melodies were quick and energetic, displaying an impressive range.
She’s a great musician and beautiful woman, but Helpert was the type of performer that you see and wish you hadn’t. You can only imagine such a situation if you’ve hit a deer while driving in your Ford Econoline at 75 with knives sticking out of your headlights and decide to study the damage. This woman’s facial expression and dancing, to cite another bestial reference, were like seeing a rabid rodent struggling to clean its face with its paw. Her physical performance was distracting enough to take away from the intricate songwriting I’m sure is evident in her recording.
Buffalo favorites, The Frame Up, closed out the night with sound production that nearly sealed the deal for them. Their guitars sang crisply and strongly enough to support their singer’s evident illness. Their Muse-style melodies brought much of the seated crowd to their feet with a flurry of enthralled women dancing right up front. With a dedicated and entertaining presence, The Frame Up was thoughtful but laid-back enough to make you forget the way they appear onstage—as if to say “we’re working for you.”
If the goal of the night was to support local music, I guess Righteous Babe held true to their promise. It was easy; they took a cue from the Music is Art book of tricks to create a big production out of what would have been just another phenomenal show at the Mohawk Place. It just remains to be seen who’ll show up to see such talent next week at the next hole in the wall club.
NOT SO LOW
Album Review- The Stay Lows: The Red Budget EP
7.5/10
by Peter Scheck
The Stay Lows’ sound is cinematic where their contemporaries are pop. They are subservient where their counterparts are dominant and seem more concerned with keeping you company than demanding your attention.
Rather than perform the songs on their CD live, though, the Buffalo band seems to be recording songs that are representative of their live show. The record sounds straightforward, as if it were recorded in one take to replicate the music they make in person.
The seven songs on Red Budget are like imagining yourself starring in your own movie. They start slow but speed up and catch your attention—if you’re wearing headphones, you start walking faster or tap your feet to match the tempo.
But the songs are mostly instrumental; the sound is created by effects-heavy guitars, bass, drums, and cello. This cello, though occasionally rigid and awkward, creates warmth inside the group dynamic, occasionally replacing the role of a lyricist. In the case of “That’s What You Get for Talking about Science,” guitars play like harps in the foreground, enforcing the lighter-than-air feeling of the cello and vocal line as Jim Schiffert sings “who will steal my sleep tonight?”
It’s a letdown, then, to think of the apparent similarities between Red Budget and Godspeed You Black Emperor’s and Explosions in the Sky’s recordings. Their songwriting and craft are strong, so to produce their album with the same effects and sound doesn’t support the originality provided by their evident musicianship.
For more information, check myspace.com/thestaylows.
