Doing It As Hard As They Can
Aqua Teen Hunger Force Volume 5
10/10
by William Rohan
Your favorite meatball, milkshake, and floating order of French fries are at it again, bringing their latest installment to DVD. Released on January 29, the good people at Adult Swim, along with creators Matt Maiellaro and Dave Willis, have unleashed two discs and 180-minutes of animated glory onto the waiting masses. Aqua Teen Hunger Force enthusiasts, and casual late night viewers alike will enjoy all fourteen episodes, chock full of the space aliens, monsters, and wild debauchery that feed our Cartoon Network addictions.
If you are not familiar with Aqua Teen Hunger Force, hopefully this brief synopsis will suffice. Three South Jersey roommates, Meatwad (a meatball), Master Shake (a milkshake), and Frylock (a floating box of French fries), make up a crime-solving team that never actually gets anything accomplished. In fact, they come pretty close to destroying the planet most of the time. The daily antics of these three involve, but are not limited to, run-ins with robot turkeys from the past/future, frequent visits from numerous aliens, monsters, mail-order brides, horrifying baked goods that come to life, and talking trees—all of which are usually a means for a painful end for their next-door neighbor, Carl. If you still don’t get it, turn on Cartoon Network on weeknights during Adult Swim, 11 p.m. to 3 a.m.
This DVD has visits from many characters, both new and old, including the elusive Dirtfoot, Boost Mobile, Mr. Wongburger, New York Giant’s great Bart Oates, porn star Tera Patrick, and our friends, the incorrigible Mooninites. Not to mention, an uncensored version of the famous “Dickesode,” and parts one and two of the “Star Studded Xmas Spectacular” are included.
Disc two has eleven special features to explore in your free time, and if you are a hardcore Aqua Teen fan like me, you probably have an abundance of that. There are tons of deleted scenes, movie plugs, promos, trailers, and multiple appearances from Space Ghost. You can also watch a video of Tera Patrick eating a hot dog, while recording her voiceover for the show, and play “The Worst Game Ever,” an interactive adventure with Meatwad and Shake—literally, the worst game ever. They even made their own music video, a must-watch for avid ATHF fans. And to think, with one easy installment of $29.98, all this could be yours.
If you love Aqua Teen, or are a habitual user of mind-altering drugs, you will love the DVD and the extras. If you are neither, Aqua Teen might not rub you the right way. In fact, you might have no idea what’s going on. Furthermore, I assume no responsibility for you watching, thinking, or talking about Aqua Teen Hunger Force Volume Five. True to Aqua Teen fashion, this animated series compilation is saturated with hilarious characters, outrageous dialogue, loose plotlines, and enough weird humor to convince you that you’ve swallowed a happy pill.
O Canada, You Rock!
Black Mountain - In the Future
8/10
by Matthew Hirschel
True music lovers appreciate great sounds, regardless of where they were created. While many Americans don’t always care for German hardcore or Japanese pop, Canada has produced some quintessential rock music. We can all thank our friendly neighbors to the north for great musicians like The Guess Who, Neil Young, and Rush, to name a few. Can Vancouver natives Black Mountain follow the path of past successes that have arrived stateside from America’s hat?
Throughout Black Mountain’s new release In the Future, you get a sense of who their influences are. Their psychedelic rock is rooted in the music of earlier generations, including Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, and Cream. They are progressive and diverse, but they allow their influences to shine through, like the folk rock of fellow Canadian Neil Young, and the music of modern, harder acts like Wolfmother, and Queens of the Stone Age. Their arrangements are relatively simple, but their groovy guitar riffs and pounding percussion provide for quality listening all the way through. From the opening licks of “Stormy High,” it is possible to succumb to the penetrating drums and get lost in a trance-like state, returning only after the thrilling melodramatic conclusion “Night Walks,” written by female vocalist Amber Webber.
That’s right, female vocalist. She doesn’t try to take front and center stage and scream about wounds and childhood pain (see: Amy Lee of Evanescence); her dreamy, serene, yet full voice provides a great complement to the music of singer-guitarist Stephen McBean. Another element of Black Mountain that sets them apart is their unique incorporation of keyboard sounds in their songs, distorted to enhance and warp the melodies. Webber’s voice, on top of a soulful guitar and an almost church-like organ, makes “Queens Will Play” eerie and tantalizing. My personal favorite, “Wucan,” is filled with an escalating, trance-y, psychedelic riff. Pink Floyd-esque sound effects are placed sporadically throughout. Once again, McBean and Webber match the music beautifully.
I recommend Black Mountain’s In the Future to classic rock enthusiasts, or open-minded music lovers. The majority of the album stays pretty slow-paced, and there is an almost 17-minute epic, “Bright Lights,” which is still dynamic enough to entertain. While it may not be the best album for putting you in the mood to rage on a Saturday night, its calm and mellow sounds make for a great listen on other occasions—especially with a nice mound of hashish, which some people have suggested their name references.
Boat Shoes and Afro Beats
Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend
8.5/10
by Tara Sullivan
Mixing simplistic, yet jaunty guitar ditties with African drum beats produces a sound that hasn’t really taken the limelight since Paul Simon’s Graceland—until now. Love them or hate them, Columbia-educated quartet Vampire Weekend is taking their show on the road to promote their unabashedly preppy album, Vampire Weekend.
The album has been sparking a bit of controversy because of its “hype,” fueled by major publications like the New York Times, and music websites like Pitchfork and Stereogum. In fact, the New York Times preceded said hype back in June before Vampire Weekend’s first album even dropped. “By the time that first shrink-wrapped and bar-coded CD finds its way into shops, the band will probably be old news, having suffered through many online cycles of hype and backlash.” Whether their success comes from blog buzz or not, there’s no denying that Vampire Weekend is a stellar pop album.
The band’s Ivy League upbringing is evident throughout the 11-song album. In “Walcott,” perhaps the standout song of the bunch, lead singer Ezra Koenig sings “Walcott / The bottleneck is a shitshow / Hyannisport is a ghetto / Outta Cape Cod tonight.” While some young adults would revel in spending time where JFK vacationed, these boys seem to have tired of rubbing elbows with the elite.
Vampire Weekend doesn’t simply drop hoity-toity names like Louis Vuitton and United Colors of Benetton; they create upbeat, refreshing tunes on every track. The intro for “M79” sounds as if it was written by Mark Mothersbaurg, composer extraordinaire of films like Royal Tenenbaums, Happy Gilmore and Rugrats: The Movie. It’s easy to imagine a boat-shoe clad college man rushing to catch the M79 bus across Central Park, observing unique characters along the way.
“Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa”—yet another song about the Cape Cod—borrows its drum rhythms from the kwassa kwassa music of the Congo in Africa. This is where the comparisons between Vampire Weekend and Paul Simon are drawn, but aside from using basic African sounds, the two entities are making very different types of music. Vampire Weekend has swagger where Simon had charm. Singing about sleeping with a “sophomore” never sounded better, until it was set to music suitable for either spring break or yachting.
Vampire Weekend manages to transcend their lyrical content, despite their potentially alienating showcase of wealth and intellect (band member, Rostam Batmanglij interned for the Oxford English Dictionary during college, hence the song entitled “Oxford Comma”). In fact, images of sandy beaches and madras shorts set to tropical rhythms are a nice escape from the countless layered electronica albums of 2007. Liven up your winter with Vampire Weekend—no dictionaries required.
This Ain't No Monkey Business
The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters
9/10
by Roger Chao
When you think of a superstar athlete, who comes to mind first? Is it Michael Jordan? Barry Sanders? How about Billy Mitchell? If you’re unsure who that last person is, then you need to experience the world of competitive video gaming. The King of Kong: a Fistful of Quarters is a documentary capturing this relatively unknown phenomenon. It follows the voyage of Steve Wiebe, an average guy, as he chases his dream of becoming the world record holder for the top score in Donkey Kong. Standing in his way, however, is gaming legend Billy Mitchell, the current record holder with more than 20 years of gaming experience under his belt. The King of Kong covers every detail of Steve’s journey, from the sweet taste of cyber victory, to the bitterness of digital defeat.
Like Rocky Balboa or Rudy, Wiebe’s quest for the high score on Donkey Kong is a true underdog story. Luck just never seemed to be on his side. Whether it was losing in his high school baseball state championship or getting laid off from his job, it seemed Wiebe could never catch a break. His rival, Billy Mitchell, however, was the complete opposite. A cocky and successful businessman, Mitchell was an idol in the classic video game world. He was the face of Twin Galaxies, the gaming organization that kept track of all video game world records. Many of his peers literally worshipped Mitchell, believing his score of 874,000 on Donkey Kong would never be conquered. That is, until Steve Wiebe submitted a video tape of him reaching over 1,000,000 points. His accomplishment sent a shockwave through the gaming community, and a deep rivalry between Mitchell and Wiebe was cemented.
The strength of The King of Kong lies in the people and history behind competitive video gaming. Director Seth Gordan was careful to let the story speak for itself rather than overcrowd it with unnecessary information or narrations. While some documentaries lose steam halfway through, this one kept me entertained all the way until the end. Colorful characters like Mitchell’s follower Brian Kuh, and gaming “referee” Walter Day, demonstrated enthusiasm for the competition. Wiebe’s humble and quiet nature made him far more likeable than the arrogant Billy Mitchell. Add in some tears, controversy, and a training montage (yes, there is an actual training montage complete with ‘80s music), and The King of Kong had me literally on the edge of my seat.
Even if you’re not a fan of Donkey Kong, you’ll find yourself glued to the screen. There is humor, frustration, excitement, and much more in this documentary on 8-bit gaming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear a round of Pac-Man calling my name.
Breaking It Big In a Bad Way
Breaking Bad
9/10
by Lou Battaglia
In 2007, the American Movie Classics channel made a bid to challenge HBO, FX and Showtime for a spot in the realm of original cable programming. They stunned everyone with Mad Men, an intelligent and insightful exploration of advertising culture on Madison Avenue in 1960. While it may sound boring, it was actually one of the smartest shows in years. AMC’s wise decision to pick up Mad Men after HBO passed on it proved to be a homerun when the show snatched up the award for best dramatic series at this year’s Golden Globes. In 2008, after baiting in the cable faithful with the intellectual subtlety of Mad Men (and picking up another show that HBO turned down), AMC is going straight for the jugular with an aggressive and intense new show called Breaking Bad. Breaking Bad creator, writer, and executive producer Vince Gilligan, also the producer of X-Files, has concocted a dark, modern tale that juxtaposes the stability of middle-class family life with the ferocious world of the methamphetamine trade.
Walter White, played by Bryan Cranston (the father from Malcolm in the Middle), is a straight-laced, middle-aged, high school chemistry teacher living in the suburbs of the Southwest. He’s married and has a disabled teenage son, with a hopefully healthy daughter on the way. One day, Walter finds out from his doctor that he has inoperable lung cancer and an indeterminate (but probably short) time left to live.
Trapped in an existential crisis, Walter decides to utilize his skills as a chemist in order to cook crystal meth in a trailer hidden by the curves of the canyons. He hopes to make enough money to secure his family’s financial future after he is gone. I know what you’re thinking—there’s nothing wrong with that. He is only a caring husband and father. Walter is almost unstoppable, barring his brother-in-law, a psycho with a badge that hunts down meth labs for a living. Another disadvantage for Walter is his selection of a business partner, a former delinquent student of his. The irony of Walter’s awkward transition from a settled high school teacher to a desperate and twisted crystal meth scientist is as funny as it is tragic. Perhaps it’s funny because it is so tragic.
With Breaking Bad, AMC boldly attempts to fill the vacuum that is post-Sopranos cable television. Like The Sopranos, Breaking Bad works on two levels that appeal to the duality of the viewers’ desires. The first aims to fill the thrill-seeking, vicarious void within us by pummeling audiences with a constant barrage of drugs, gruesome violence, and the occasional sex scene. Conversely, the inner-dynamics of Walter’s character hone in perfectly on other viewer mentality that needs more than visual titillation to keep it hooked. Walter weaves a subtler story that reveals how, after years of intellectual stunting brought on by apathetic and unappreciative students, he ultimately “breaks bad” after coming face to face with the reality of his own rapidly approaching death. “Breaking bad” is a term that people in the Southwest use to describe guys like Walter who, after years of model citizenry, snap. Check out AMC every Sunday night at 10 p.m. to see Walter break bad in a big way.
Ghost Inspired Prog Rock
Mars Volta - The Bedlam in Goliath
8/10
by Ryan Mallette
The Bedlam in Goliath may just be the quintessential Mars Volta album. Though it doesn’t dethrone classics De-Loused in the Comatorium and Frances the Mute, it provides a near-perfect blend of the best aspects of their previous albums. The Bedlam is a more accessible package, maintaining the group’s signature blend of jazz, Latin, funk, and other various extreme genre-crashing endeavors.
The Mars Volta is a progressive rock band made up primarily of former At the Drive-In members, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala, and alongside several touring and studio musicians, including John Frusciante of Red Hot Chili Peppers fame. They are easily considered one of the hardest-working groups in contemporary music, with three previous studio albums, a live album, and two solo records in-between from Rodriguez-Lopez in just five short years.
Like most of the band’s previous works, The Bedlam in Goliath has quite a story behind it. While on a trip to Jerusalem, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, purchased an archaic Ouija-type board as a gift for vocalist Cedric Bixler-Zavala. Later named “The Soothsayer,” the Ouija board quickly became a ritualistic activity for the band to wind down with from the intensity of their live shows. A few spirits started to contact the band regularly, and were soon dubbed as one entity named “Goliath.” Misfortune reared its ugly head for the band as things started to take a turn for the worst during the recording of Bedlam. Their previous drummer quit, their engineer had a meltdown, recorded tracks began to mysteriously disappear, and Rodriguez-Lopez’s home studio flooded. Concerned with the band’s crumbling stability, Rodriguez-Lopez buried the Ouija board, hoping to do away with its curse upon them. The only spirit left behind was the inspiration that The Mars Volta took away from this encounter.
With a new drummer, Thomas Pridgen, at the helm, The Mars Volta came steamrolling from their hardships with a somewhat youthful energy. Anyone familiar with the group knows they are notorious for their long bouts of psychedelic noise, and layered guitar and vocal effects. It’s all still there, however, it is employed much more significantly than in some of Volta’s more recent efforts. Songs round out in a more “traditional” manner, though traditional for this band is a totally different ballgame, and the album as a whole feels more united than some of their previous works.
It’s difficult to sum up a Mars Volta album because of the multifaceted and meaningful nature of their music. Those familiar with them should know that this album is a great mix of the other three Mars Volta records, but can stand very well on its own. It’s certainly their fastest and loudest record. Bedlam contains a great amount of epic, Omar’s signature guitar shredding, and Cedric’s cryptic lyrics and shrieking hooks.
Butt Out!
NYS Quitline
7/10
by Lisa Strand
In the midst of winter, through gusts of snow, you can sometimes see odd-looking creatures, huddled in corners of buildings and bundled from head to toe, except for two red, frosty fingers. No, they’re not a new, more frightening version of the snowman. These diehard smokers brave frigid temperatures, stick their heads out of windows, and hover around doorways, in order to light up for ten heavenly minutes of nicotine. For five years I was one of these elusive snow-people, but I recently decided that enough is enough. Every time a Sabres game is on, the NYS Quitline advertises their services, depicting amputees and images of disfigurement caused by cigarette smoking. I was skeptical of their promises and protective of my addiction, rationalizing that these were freak occurrences, extremely rare in the population. Finally, after seeing the badly infected foot for the millionth time, I went online to plead for help with the NYS Quitline, at nysmokefree.com.
I answered a series of questions about my health and smoking habits, along with my living situation, and educational history. They asked for me to pick a day in the near future when I could see myself totally smoke-free. Talk about putting a lot of pressure on the smoker, right? Can’t I slowly wean myself off in peace and frostbite? The questions pertained to the brands of cigarettes I smoked most often, and also asked me to complete a more comprehensive and detailed questionnaire about my health. Finally, they decided that I qualified for their services.
When I finally got the package in the mail, I found two sets of patches, each containing enough to hold me through for two weeks; one with 14mg of nicotine, and another with 7mg. I reviewed the included “stop smoking” pamphlets filled with tips for “staying clean,” and felt genuinely hopeful about the upcoming weeks. The Quitline specialists called to check on my progress during the third week, which was truly more of a hassle than reinforcement. A lady had me on the phone for five minutes, answering drawn out questions about my experience and about the patches themselves. Like any other congenial, and stressed out, smoker on the way to recovery, I answered their questions as politely as I could—gritting my teeth the entire time.
I’m sure you’re wondering what has become of me, post-NYS Quitline. It’s been about four weeks, and with only a few relapses and extreme trials in self-control, I’ve made the first step, and it’s going great. I recommend the kit to anyone who is ready to quit smoking cigarettes. If you’re still hanging on to the doorknob of your house in 60 mph winds with no remorse, this might be more of a trek than you imagine. Online, there are printable fact sheets, and tips for eating, drinking coffee and alcohol, and driving, things we smokers are all used to doing with a cigarette between our middle and index fingers. Hopefully, soon I’ll be a healthier (and richer) person who doesn’t need to be banished outside, paying a premium price for lung cancer and emphysema.
Bloody Entertaining
No More HeroesWii
7/10
by Jason Polanski
When you think of the present state of the Nintendo Wii, I’m sure that the some of the first games that come to mind are Mario, Metroid, or endless minigame compilations that throw gameplay out the window in favor of casual appeal. Enter No More Heroes, a game that defies the stereotypes by delivering relentless action, unforgiving violence, and a fun experience that can only be achieved with the Wii.
No More Heroes can best be described as a hack-and-slash action game that incorporates the free-roaming elements of Grand Theft Auto, and the visual style of a Japanese anime. You take the role as Travis Touchdown, a classic example of a geek obsessed with video games, anime, and getting laid. Though you may not completely relate to the character as a whole, you will most certainly find something that you like about him. The story isn’t that complex; Travis buys a light saber— I’m sorry, a beam katana— and kills the eleventh-ranked assassin under the manipulative Silvia Crystal (the boss of a shadowy organization). The objective is to find and kill each ranked assassin, in the hopes of being number one, and to maybe get some from his hot new boss. The story is rather simple, but it’s the characters that really get you involved and motivate your bloody rampage. This is the goriest game I’ve ever played. Using the Wiimote, finishing an enemy generally results in a shower of blood due to dismemberment, or simply and brutally cutting someone in half.
The combat is where No More Heroes excels and luckily, it’s the greater portion of the game. Between the combat missions, however, you are dropped off in the city of Santa Destroy, where you are free to roam around on your Akira-inspired motorcycle. For those not well-versed in anime, Akira is one of the most famous anime cartoons in the world. Driving is clunky for the most part, and cruising around the city doesn’t deliver the thrill that other games achieve. Since an entry fee is required for each fight, you have to traverse the city picking up odd jobs such as lawn mowing, picking up garbage, and other random tasks. These do serve as entertaining diversions, but if they took this out and strung the fights together, I wouldn’t be complaining.
What you have here is something the Wii truly needed. It’s original, mature, and action- packed. Developers Suda51 and Grasshopper have given No More Heroes a sense of polish and style that is severely lacking in most games. In a flood of shelf-filling, budget crap like Game Party, and anything created by Bold Games, it’s nice to see something that caters to the gamers that demand more out of their game.
