"He Blew My Brains Out"
Steve Vai @ The CFA
September 24, 2007
10/10
by Elina Vaysbeyn
The Center for the Arts auditorium is structurally a great venue for concerts. Its walls extend vertically up from the stage, creating a slim corridor for the transfer of music, which essentially thrusts itself upwards into the audience. On Monday, September 24, the CFA was lucky to welcome the guitar virtuoso Steve Vai.
Opening for Vai was Zack Wiesinger and Co. Wiesinger was extremely energetic on stage—a skinny guy in tight jeans and a striped shirt—playing with all his might, hopping around, grinding his guitar, and standing on his tippy toes. He had a really positive vibe, strumming out all kinds of riffs. He was light, fast, and funky. Wiesinger was talented, to say the least, and a worthy opener for Vai.
When Steve Vai came on, it was like a chill went through the concert hall. His presentation was quite unique and spoke to his real musical genius. He came out in a long, robe-like contraption—exuding an intense amount of sex appeal for a guy wearing something that might be the distant cousin of a dress. He immediately began to rock our worlds. He shook the walls of the theatre with the accompaniment of two violin players and the rest of his band members. Let me explain something about Steve Vai—he is a man possessed by his guitar. Only someone in a trance can emit those kinds of sounds.
He let the violins rise to a screeching pinnacle, zigzagged through the highest guitar pitches and created major sound tension. It felt like the walls were going to crumble around us. His performance was not only auditory, but it was visual as well. Playing guitar, if you play well, can be a very sensual act, and Vai was getting into his own music, dancing away like he was alone in the room.
Vai also allowed his back-up players to get their moment in the sun. The violin duet was extremely sentimental and doleful, yet it didn’t lack in rock ‘n’ roll style. It was a powerful display of the greatness that comes with the mastering of an otherwise soft-spoken instrument. It can be merciful and enchanting, but the two other musicians showed that the violin could also tear it up. Vai spiced up his songs with experimental and progressive segments, as well as catchy guitar-plucking. Most of his playing consisted of totally wild but extremely talented, fast-paced, funk-infused string-thrashing (a term I created to define exactly what it is that Vai does). The violins were like mythical sirens, creating rich, impassioned, and melodic backup for Vai’s electric guitar.
He would open his mouth and his instrument would ejaculate almost human-like sounds, resembling words. Vai’s manipulation of the guitar was unbelievable. At certain times it would sound like a conch horn, at others, like aliens were invading, and still yet at others, like a beautiful aria. When he actually sang, which was not often, he had a deep, snarly voice. His music can only be described as indulgent, sophisticated, and of unnatural origins. Vai called himself a “well-kept secret,” while joking with the crowd—but that is the understatement of the decade.
Badunkadunks Abound
Will.I.Am - Songs About Girls
6/10
by Abel Germosen
Don’t expect to find any clever word play or hip endeavors into society’s ills here. The Black Eyed Peas’ own Will.I.Am has his mind set on one thing, and it ain’t love. Content-wise, Will.I.Am’s most recent solo effort, Songs About Girls, is extremely lighthearted yet unmemorable. Will’s themes range from booty-worship to examining the role genes play in obtaining said badunkadunks. But like most projects associated with the Black Eyed Peas, the sound has an irresistible quality to it.
What can be wrong with an album dedicated to the “most beautiful creatures on Earth”? Before the release of the album, Will.I.Am advertised it as a look into one of his past relationships, a formula that struck gold for Maroon 5 with 2004’s Songs about Jane. But the finished product ends up being a narrow-minded collection of bubbly tunes. The content isn’t the problem—it is the way in which the artist chooses to present it. In Will’s case, his presentation is mostly straightforward and uncreative, making this album boring as a whole.
As it progresses, Will just seems to runs out of things to say. On “One More Chance” he raps, “I be lovin’ you like la la la / But it be hittin’ you like blah blah blah.” Empty lines make this song, as well as the album, seem insincere. Another low point is “S.O.S.,” Will’s “save the world” song which falls completely flat. “S.O.S.” comes off as preachy and overly simplistic as the Peas’ classic “Where is The Love,” minus the catchy hook. Maybe he should have dedicated as much effort to lyrics as he did to production.
All negativity aside, the album certainly excels in terms of its production value. Will borrows sounds from all genres to create up-beat club songs. Even the annoyingly repetitive single “I Got It from My Mama” has appeal with its infectious drums. Other songs have a techno vibe to them like “Get Your Money,” an ode to strippers. Will’s strong suit is the ability to create very catchy hooks and melodies. Listeners will have a hard time getting these tunes out of their heads. Strong beats and melodies are major assets to this album, and it seems that the music towers over lyrics and content.
Overall, Songs About Girls is far from revolutionary and seems uninspired, but Will.I.Am proves once again that he is a talented producer. I would recommend trying to overlook his lyrics and instead focus on the variety of rich sounds found on this album. I’ll try to not feel like a hypocrite while bobbing my head to Will’s addictive beats.
Wholly Hip-Hop
Soul in the Whole
7/10
by Rayshon Higgins
The Buffalo hip-hop scene hasn’t been thriving since—well, since hip-hop gained popularity. In Buffalo, the second largest city in New York, emcees are scarce and live hip-hop shows are few and far between; that is, until DeepThinka Records teamed up with Broadway Joe’s, bringing forth Soul in the Whole Sundays.
Every Sunday night from 7-12, local hip-hop heads congregate for a night of celebration. The soulful cuts from classic rap records can be heard clearly outside, even from around the corner. The beats are provided by the guest DJ of the night, who spins over a turntable set-up on the edge of the dance floor, which creates an intimate, yet raw and authentic hip-hop atmosphere. You might get a taste of some mainstream or commercial records, but for the most part the DJs keep the old school vibe alive throughout the majority of the night.
If you really start to feel it, hit the dance floor. If you’re lucky, you might be in the presence of break dancers, and they aren’t shy. They won’t hesitate to play a game of human “spin the bottle” right in front of the DJ booth. Just watch out for the foosball table and steer clear of random head spinners—the confined dance floor is really more of a small corner cut out for drunken conversation.
Speaking of drunk, you can lift your spirits with a spirit on the house—just don’t lose your free drink ticket. If you find yourself wanting more, the bar serves $2.50 Corona and Redstripe specials all night. Did I mention the free food? Pizza and wings are also provided at the venue. Sunday dinner couldn’t get better.
Sunday night is for more tranquil moments, and Broadway Joe’s knows that when it’s time to chill, it’s time to chill. The lawn chairs on the outback patio grant you a perfect spot to kick back and fill your soul with music and booze, all while admiring the infamous wall of graffiti. Of course, this all comes with a small $3 fee and a 21+ ID.
Broadway Joe’s supplies a fairly decent setting, and while music is live, the drinks are endless, and the food is great, there’s only one thing missing—a crowd. Poor advertising and a seemingly disinterested community takes the thunder out of Soul in the Whole Sundays and makes it an undeniable sausage fest.
Soul in the Whole Sundays is a now a usual for many local artists and talents, providing the local hip-hop community something to work with. Aside from the undersized dance floor, under-attendance, and unavailability of women—Soul in the Whole is the place for Sunday revival.
“THE MAN, THE MYTH,
THE MAGICIAN”
Bruce Springsteen - Magic
8.5/10
by Emily de Beer
“What do you mean, you don’t like Bruce Springsteen?” That was the general reaction I would get from a music-lover when discussing “The Boss.” It’s not that I dislike his music—in truth, I know very little of his work and really only dabble by playing “Thunder Road” or “Jungleland” every now and again. When straying from the singles that made it to the radio, I found Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band to be an acquired taste and not necessarily “active listening.” That is certainly not the case with their new album Magic, released on October 2.
The band’s first collaborated album since 2002, Magic features 12 tracks that are utterly refreshing considering the modern craze of mass-produced backdrops. If you’re looking for some pure, old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll, Magic is where it’s at.
If you want to hear them live, Bruce and the gang have recently begun scheduling tentative tour dates. In an interview with Rolling Stone, manager Jon Landau discussed the CD’s new pop sound. This does not mean that Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band have sold out, but rather they attempted to include more audibly pleasing guitar and saxophone as well as repetitive and melodic beats. Also, the CD is full of operatic refrains that will hopefully be accompanied by Bruce’s patented butt-shaking—you know, for all the moms out there.
Unfortunately missing from Springsteen’s new songs was a discussion of his political views through his meaningful lyrics. The only track on the album that refers to our dismal state of affairs is “Devil’s Arcade,” a haunting ballad about soldiers at war. While no specific mention is made about President Bush or Iraq, one can imagine what Springsteen might have to say on the matter. In contrast, the opening tune “Radio Nowhere,” is a powerful rock song, which accurately describes itself with the lyrics “I want a thousand guitars / I want pounding drums / I want a million different voices / Speaking in tongues.” The CD is not without certain cliché, dull qualities, but they are only present in one or two tracks. “Girls in Their Summer Clothes” was an average summer ballad with a title that struck me as rather creepy coming from a man who recently turned 58, but hey, it’s Bruce. “Your Own Worst Enemy” was rather ironic because it featured bells and the lyrics, “Your own worst enemy is coming to town,” which made it reminiscent of Bruce Springsteen’s famous rendition of the Christmas song “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
Overall, Magic offers upbeat rock that is easy to listen to but is certainly not “easy listening.” It’s loud, fast, and has banished any thought from my mind of Bruce Springsteen as a boring oldie. The thing that’s best about this release is the group’s ability to maintain their hometown appeal as the boys from Jersey and to hold their own against the flashy “future, sex, and love sounds” of modern day music.
Saving the World One
Viewer at a Time
Heroes: Season Two Premier
8/10
by Roger Chao
With their fingers firmly grasping the remote and eyes fixed on the television, millions of viewers tuned in anxiously to catch the premiere of NBC’s hit show Heroes. After only one season, the series caught on like wildfire and there was no looking back. Legions of rabid fans launched blogs, discussed theories, and asked profound questions like, “Why is Hiro so damn lovable?” Judging by the first episode, the second season of Heroes will give viewers the same amount of intensity, cliffhangers, and “oh shit” moments as the first season, if not more.
The plot of Heroes revolves around a world where ordinary people discover they possess extraordinary abilities, like flight, teleportation, and regeneration. They are on a search to find out who, or what, is behind their newly acquired powers. The first season ended with the antagonist, Sylar (Zachary Quinto), dying (or so we’re led to think), and the quiet hero, Peter Petrelli (Milo Ventimiglia), sacrificing his life to save the planet. Some questions still remain unanswered. Pulsating with unbearable tension, the second season’s action picks up four months later, just as the dust begins to settle.
Many of last season’s main protagonists still carry a strong presence. The beautiful and invincible cheerleader known as Claire Bennett (Hayden Panettiere) is adjusting to a life in a new city with her family. To protect themselves from unforeseen enemies, they must do everything in their power to keep their previous identities a secret from the rest of the town. The task will not be an easy one. Hiro Nakamura (Masi Oka), the wholesome hero wannabe, was last seen launched into the past due to his inability to control his powers of time travel. The second season picks up with Hiro finding himself in feudal Japan, sometime in the seventeenth century. Trapped, he must help his childhood idol Takezo Kensei fulfill his destiny. Officer Matt Parkman (Greg Grunberg) and Dr. Mohinder Suresh (Sendhil Ramamurthy) return with newly improved roles, caring for a gifted child and developing a cunning plan to take down the corporation that haunted them just a season prior.
Different villains have been tossed into the mix as well. Though still nameless and faceless, this malicious force of nature has already made its presence felt, committing his first, but surely not his last, murder in the season premiere. Also making it into the season opener, a brother and sister duo running from the law are desperately trying to make it to New York, where they hope to find the scientist who might have an answer for the sister’s supernatural ability. Perhaps the biggest surprise of the second season is the shocking return of Peter Petrelli. Petrelli was last seen exploding into smithereens over New York City, but when he suddenly appeared, suffering from amnesia, every fan watching surely must’ve scratched their heads, as well as let out a cheer.
Season two of Heroes appears to hold much potential. Filled with stimulating storylines, a concoction of old and new characters, and the occasional mind-bending plot twist, it will give viewers the perfect reason to stay in on Monday nights this fall.
WESTERN APPROVAL
Eastern Promises
9/10
by Elina Vaysbeyn
Eastern Promises unravels the hateful crimes of London’s underground mafia scene, dominated by the Russian mob, which operates under the pseudonym, “Vory V Zakone,” or “Thieves Under Law.” The patriarch, Papa Samuel has a son, Kirill, a deranged marauder who has acted as one of the central members of the Vory since the day he was born. Tatiana, a poor Russian girl in search of her European dreams, accidentally falls into the hands of the Vory, only to end up in a hospital, pregnant and strung out on obliterating amounts of heroin. Anna Ivanovna (Naomi Watts) delivers Tatiana’s bastard child into the world, but Tatiana isn’t so lucky. Anna finds the dead girl’s diary, which tells a moving story through a series of characters whose hands and eyes have graced its pages.
Naomi Watts plays a sexy midwife whose conscience compels her to investigate the death of Tatiana and find the relatives of the newly born child. Ivanovna’s task is not an easy one, considering the Vory have connections all over London with elite Russian families, and families stick together—don’t they?
Eastern Promises incorporates many different elements into a concept that has potential to become undeniably silly. The inexhaustible well of mob stories has long ago run dry, but we still keep on pumping it. This time, however, the “promises” are real. Vincent Kassel as Samuel’s son Kirill, and Viggo Mortensen as Nikolai, Kirill’s partner in crime, are mutually truthful and sentimental in their performances as both ruthless killers and brothers at heart. Their characters capture the self-destructive, anomalous mob mentality. Although their relationship is sick and disturbing, as demonstrated in violence towards one another, it is also gentle and understanding. They know the sacrifices of the mafia game aren’t small.
Viggo Mortensen displays his dedication to his film career by doing a totally nude fight sequence in a Russian sauna, where we get a good, long chance to see the nuts and bolts of his anatomy. There is no complaining about the acting in Eastern Promises. Speaking in Russian is difficult if it is not your native tongue but they did it with grace.
The tension runs high, as there are many surprises, unsettling as they may be, and in the end, the deserted runaway’s broken English narrates her diary from the grave, and her story smashes the plotline to pieces. It is perhaps an extremely violent road to salvation for Tatiana’s prematurely born child, but the search for her extended relatives does come to a close. Eastern Promises is a provocative and original film, but it won’t give you the satisfaction of a simple plot. Prepare yourself for a feeling of incompletion, and the desire to know more.
Wannn Ride My Roller-
Coaster, Baby, Baby?!
Britney Spears at the VMAs
1/10
by Erin McCarthy
Oh, Britney! Your “comeback” is like a Broadway musical version of Valley of the Dolls set at Heidi Fleiss’ Nevada whorehouse. I wish I could be one of the few to not slam your recent comeback at the VMAs, your adventures in court, and your post-custody hearing after-parties, but God! Will you stop bringing sleazy back, already?! I know that everyone, from the girls on The View to the New York Times, has gone after you like a pack of rabid swine, but can you blame them? I believe most of America is glad to see that you finally sent FedEx packing, but with your repeated antics, I can almost hear the creative directors at VH1 penning ideas for Rollercoaster of Love with Britney Spears. (Catch phrase: “Wanna ride my rollercoaster, baby, baby?”)
Brits, your new single, “Gimme More,” isn’t bad. In fact, it’s the perfect mixture of saccharine sexy pop nonsense that every tween without musical guidance will buy. Sure, it’s yet another carbon copy of Timbaland’s latest productions, but then again, doesn’t everybody, including the man himself, plagiarize that same stupid hook haunting pop airwaves these days? Normally, I’d condemn this blatant lack of creativity and downright laziness, but if America loves that sound, which is as infectious as syphilis in a Nineteenth-century brothel, I suppose you shouldn’t be left off the bandwagon of mass-produced pop power!
Anyhow, Brittles, I think the real explanation for your silly nerves during your VMA performance can be attributed to one thing: your panties were too tight. I mean, let’s face it, when you don’t wear panties every day, they are going to feel too tight. Heck, rumor has it that you didn’t even know what they were and uttered, “Y’all, what’s this sparkly thang on my ass?” before your publicist shoved you to the wolves shouting, “Britney, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!”
In all honesty, that performance was just awkward. Here you were, busting out of your stripper gear, but looking no more comfortable than a third grader at her first school play. God, even Xtina has moved past her dirty days into motherhood with grace. You just keep moving further back in the trailer park, Britney. Did you forget your failed reality TV show, failed marriage, and failed days in rehab? That’s a resume for white trash, sweetie, so pretending to cavort like a stripper in Vegas isn’t a great way to revamp your career.
I will give you this, your kids are ridiculously adorable, but you’re in a custody battle with the guy that should be a spokesperson for Wonderbread. In the past, it was rock ‘n’ roll to be a “habitual user” of drugs and alcohol, but being a junkie is so last year. Don’t you read Us Weekly? The big trend among the stars that matter in Hollywood (i.e. Paris, Nicole, Lindsay) is rehab or jail. Anyhow, here’s some advice: the Queen of Reinvention, Madonna, said you two haven’t spoken since your other infamous VMA performance in 2003, so, in sum, Britney, please give her a call and get some tips on how to resell yourself to the masses without looking like a trashy media whore.
Viva El Mexico!
Ballet Folklorico de Mexico at CFA
8/10
by Cristiano Agostino
Many college students spend most their waking time during the school year dreaming of the sunny beaches in Mexico. There is another Mexico, however, which is usually not included in our daydreaming, but is equally, if not more interesting—the vital, colorful and enticing arts of the Mexican people. Among these a special place is reserved for dance, which has many different faces and personalities.
While most of us might never get to watch such an amazing display of culture, a lucky few had the chance this past Tuesday in the Center for the Arts, when we were served a banquet for the eyes, courtesy of one of the most celebrated traditional dancing groups in Mexico: the Ballet Folklórico de México. Established by dancer and choreographer Amalia Hernández in 1952, the dance troupe has seen its popularity growing steadily. From their weekly show on Mexican television, to their international breakthrough, the ballet, comprised of over 70 dancers, has given more than 5,000 performances and has won hundreds of awards.
Given the high profile of the artists and their focus on the tradition of Mexican dances, one would be justified in fearing a dry montage of folkloric pieces presented in a high cultural tone but with little entertainment. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. As the members of the troupe walked onto the stage, an enthusiastic public was blown away by a myriad of sounds, colors, and foreign rhythms. There were the traditional religious dances of pre-Hispanic people, performed in colorful, flashy regalia and accompanied by heavy, hypnotic rhythms. No nuance of Mexico’s centuries-long dance tradition was ignored.
“Revolution” was a more serious interlude where a carefree European minuet was juxtaposed with a dramatically martial choreography, in which women dressed in traditional farmer clothes paraded—rifles in hand—on a well-conceived set, representing the people’s revolutionary impetus, that resulted in flaming ruins of the aristocracy.
While never losing sight of cultural relevance, the troupe didn’t seem too overly inclined to force-feed its audience a history lesson. Many lighthearted moments filled the night’s show with a particular flair for the flirty. In “Charreada,” a vaquero-like figure played provocative lasso games with a dancer in a beautiful airy white gown, accompanied by a live mariachi band. In “Tlacotalpan Festivity,” a traditional Candelaria virgin festivity was re-enacted, featuring not only a slew of bright costumes and serrated, contagious rhythms, but also some picturesque masks and puppets lifted from Mexican tradition, embodying mythical and folkloristic figures.
Fully succeeding in the task of keeping the excitement high in the crowd for over two hours, the ballet ended the night with a bang, pulling all stops and performing a final dance routine with all dancers on stage—the music growing faster and faster until the final, festive climax. The performers, with smiles on their faces, left the stage to a standing ovation and screams from the audience.
