12.31.2012

End of the Monnth Music Bitchfest - December 2012

Nine Inch Nails

Another month of not nothing from NIN and its related subsidies.
First, we've gotten two remixes of the How To Destroy Angels track, "Ice age", the first by deadmaus (who is not as cool or innovative as he or anyone else thinks he is) and the second by Soft Moon, which is awesome. That one could also be called the "Joy Division remix" because of its sounds, but, whatever. Gift horse mouth bite feed hand don't.
Along with this, Dave Grohl announced that his documentary is going to come with a companion album, Real to Reel, the final track of which is called "Mantra" and which was created by Grohl, Josh Homme andTrent Reznor. It'll be out in February.
In further sort-of-Nine-Inch-Nails news, Reznor and Ross' Girl With The Dragon Tattoo score was nominated for two Grammys, one for best score and one for best deluxe packaging or special edition...which sounds silly.
And, finally, the best for last: in the December 17th issue of The New Yorker, Trent Reznor was profiled...and a new Nine Inch Nails album was announced...for 2014.
hahahahahahahahahahakillmehahahahahahahahahahahascreamingontheinsidehahahahahahahahahahaha.
It will be preceded by Interscope releasing a Nine Inch Nails "best of", to which Reznor will create/contribute/dig out, dust off and vomit up two brand new Nine Inch Nails songs.
My fingers are crossed for that cover of "Sex Dwarf".

So, in a nutshell, there were some remixes and the announcements of a song and some news about something happening more than a year from now.

Oh, almost forgot, the New Yorker article also talked about the streaming music service that Reznor has been developing with Beats By Dre.
Apparently it's going to be better than Spotify and Pandora...but I don't really understand how...or care really.
I've never actually used either and don't see myself ever doing so, so...yeah.
Congrats on that and let's hope it gets made obsolete really quickly.


Eels

A delightful and hilarious deleted scene starring E and Paul Rudd from the latest Apatow movie, This Is 40, popped up, making me want to see it even more. I mentioned it is hilarious, yes?

And, as foreseen, a super-adorable video for the euphoric new Eels' track, "Peach Blossom" was released, as well as another track from the album, "New Alphabet".
The new track is a bit darker, but more in a "when things get bad, here's how I deal with it" kind of way.
Not as great as "Peach Blossom" in my opinion, but still very solid.
February 5th cannot get here fast enough.


They Might Be Giants

So, while offering to answer any and all questions about their new album, I asked Flans (via Twitter) about the number of tracks and he told me and only me that it will consist of 25 tracks and clock in at about 45 minutes.
A day or so later, the band revealed the title (Nanobots), the release date (March 5th) and debuted a track on Rolling Stone's web site called "Call You Mom". It follows their tried and true sounds-happy-be-really-isn't-at-all formula that they've been rocking since '86. I like is SO much better than "Can't Keep Johnny Down" and that makes me so relieved. It's...raucous. And there are saxophones and Flansburgh yells in the background at one point.
Good stuff.

And, just a matter of hours ago, I attended the first and second of TMBG's New Year's Eve shows in Brooklyn. The first night was side A of Flood and side B of Lincoln (give or take "The World's Address" and "I've Got A Match" for some reason) and the second night, vice versa. While neither were the best shows I've ever seen, the first one featured five new songs from the upcoming Nanobots, namely, "Call You Mom" (amazing live), "Nanobots" (cannot wait to hear the album version of this), "Circular Karate Chop" (very catchy), "Lost My Mind" (seemed a bit flat) and "Insect Hospital" (which seemed less like a full song and more like a segue, although that may have just been the way they integrated it into the live shows...I suppose time will tell).

Finally, the "finyl vinyl" from the IFC is due to us by March.


Atoms for Peace announced their album title and release date as well as updating their site (www.atomsforpeace.info) with pre-order info and a weird, trippy visual component backed by some instrumental detritus. It's called Amok and it'll be out February 25th and I will buy it.

Aside from all this stuff that has yet to be released, I have actually been listening to something that is NOT Coil; specifically, Matt Berry's music from his show, Snuff Box. I'll forgo trying to make you understand how fucking weird this show is and just focus on the music. Each of the six episodes ends with one or both of the show's stars (Matt Berry and Rich Fulcher) turning to camera and singing a version of the show's theme, which was written and recorded by Berry. Apropos of nothing, although, sometimes, there are very emotional moments where (maybe?) words just aren't enough to exprress what the characters are feeling and that mihgt explain what the fuck is going on. The thing is? The theme is wicked fucking catchy. So much so that I bought it from iTunes and, along with a handful of other versions from the show and few pieces of incidental music posted on a BBC interview with Berry, have been listening to it for long stretches of time, about twenty minutes of music, over and over and over. And, beyond that, when I'm not listening to it, I'm humming or singing it AND I DON'T MIND because it's a good song.
It's really gotten into my head...we'll see what happens in the New Year.

And, speaking of which, be here tomorrow for something sexy bitchy.

Now leave.

12.28.2012

A review of Coil's "Love's Secret Domain"

























Not 100%, but I think this album's title refers to the butt.

Here we go:

Disco Hospital - I actually remember this from that initial download of Coil stuff all those years ago. This song is so...FUN. The first thirty seconds are made up of a repeating sound collage; weird noises, but not nearly as frightening as what Coil usually comes up with. Then, a few seconds of silence before a sassy, jazzy hi-hat and a beat comprised of an echocardiogram kick in. Add to those the slinky, muted keyboard and you have an excellent opener...to an album by some other artist.

Teenage Lightning part 1 - The fun continues with a freaked out, staticy bossa nova beat. Like Rio after dark and after a chaff grenade went off.

Things Happen - This is some French cabaret shit. What the fuck is going on here?! Some drunken French woman keeps asking for a cigarette and rambling about things happening and what it's like in Ohio...Jesus...is this even Coil?

The Snow - Okay. Here we go. This, at least somewhat, resembles the Coil with which I've been spending the past few months. But, although it's more dark and implicit than anything else here thus far, it's still more accessible and structured than a lot of what I'm used to. There is some great free jazz (?) keyboards floating in and out of "Snow" as well some some great effects that lower the temperature nicely. This feels a lot more 1997 than 1991. Man, this is so different...there are beats and drum machines being used properly and elements that one might hear on the radio. What the hell happened between this and their last album?

Dark River - A very solid Coil track. Like "The Snow", more produced and polished than their usual work, which, some might say, is a drawback, the loss of that roughness, that chaos, but I'm liking everything about this. The mood here is excellent and the title reflects the sound perfectly. The high, plinking sounds work so well with the large, round bell tones. Great atmosphere on this.

Where Even The Darkness Is Something To See - Great title for a less than great track. I'm just not that impressed with didgeridoos. Most of the song is just didge, but there's some cool electronics and flickering, echoing vocals towards the end. Not enough to make the song memorable, but enough to make it listenable.

Teenage Lightning part 2 - More industrial spacescape bossa nova. Mamba on the MOOOOOON!!! This actually sounds more like Beck than Coil. And that's fine with me. After a minute or two, you get the point, but, just as it starts to drag, it ends with some trippy Gorillaz/Garbage shit. Very nice.

Windowpane - This is so...normal*. You can see Balance doing his creepy stuff here (panting and moaning about putting windows in your eyes, etc.) and there is some signature electronic dissonance, but it's more for texture and someone has paired it with some totally accessible and, dare I say, enjoyable grooves and beats. It's actually palatable...for a bit. Six minutes plus is pushing it though; you've heard everything there is to hear about three minutes in.

Further Back And Faster - More didgeridoo, but used in a more interesting fashion: set as background behind a pseudo-Reggae beat. This drags and doesn't do much to impress.

Titan Arch - Ah, here we go, some Coil. Sinister and creeping, this track has some nice fear in the background. The lyrics are blasphemous and prophetic ("Angels take poisons / In rotting pavilions / Under shivering stars / The sickness is gilding"). Why do I feel as if this track was fought over? "We need to be less scary! We can't put any more readings from the Black Texts on our albums!" "Fuck you! We're Coil! Ingest the darkness! Immanentize the eschaton!"

Chaostrophy - Yet another Coil track. This starts off with dark static, but soon that falls away to reveal a huge, demonic engine revving and powering up, but then the engine opens and we see there is a symphony inside this engine. It's mysterious and sorrowful and beautiful and perhaps what is powering this shuddering, broken machine.

Lorca Not Orca** - Spanish guitars, people. Goddamn Spanish guitars. This might as well be called "Teenage Lightning part 3" as it features the same distorted robot voice reciting the same lyrics from the first two Teenage Lightnings. It's an enjoyable oddity, much like the first two, although Spanish guitars will never beat out bossa nova for me.

Love's Secret Domain - I think the first time I heard this was during Nine Inch Nails' pre-show music. Balance rants and raves (sounding a bit like a really pissed off Gavin Friday) over some incongruous tropicalia music and some truly party-starting drum breaks. Although his menace is palpable, it really does get blunted a bit by the music: it's too Miami beach. An odd and puzzling end to an odd and puzzling Coil album.

I don't know what to say; half of this album sounds like...not Coil. Not bad, but not Coil. Which, I suppose, is yet another credit to how multifaceted these psychopaths really are. If you check out the LP they released before this, one really has to wonder what happened. Did they take on a new member or sit down and actively decide to be more things to more people? Judging by what they evolve into, I suspect the answer is a creaking and sepulchral "no", but, still, I remain curious.







* Comparatively.

** Full title "Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús Garcia Lorca Not Orca"***

*** I'm kidding. 

12.21.2012

A review of Coil's "Moon's Milk (In Four Phases)"























As today is Winter Solstice, I decided to dedicate this week to Coil's "Seasons" collection.
Originally recorded in 1998 and released throughout the year from March to January of 1999 as four EPs, Moon's Milk (In Four Phases) is all four of the aforementioned EPs collected on two discs.

The first EP, Spring Equinox: Moon's Milk or Under An Unquiet Skull, consists of two tracks, both just a little over eight minutes, titled "Moon's Milk or Under An Unquiet Skull parts one and two". The first one acts more as a prelude to the second, rather than a distinct first part followed by a distinct second part. It's mostly droning voices and a few notes on an organs, flowing back and forth in a rather uninteresting fashion. I found my mind wandering while listening to this, although it does set a very somber, very ancient tone.
The following track, however, fills this solemn, holy place with sadness and beauty by employing a distant viola layered over the droning voices and sparse, listless organ.
Part two is the funeral of a god. While it's unsettling at times, mostly thanks to random sliding pitch changes*, it doesn't go too far.
One thing is for god damn certain, however, this does not make me think of Spring.

Next is Summer Solstice: Bee Stings. The first track, "Bee Stings" features some slithery, uncomfortable vocals backed by a repeating phrase of sad, regal music, something for a king who is dying in the sunshine, perhaps stung to death by bees. The ghost of a drum and some looped hissing, clicking lend structure to the otherwise simple song. There is also an unmistakable similarity between the chord progression in this and the chord progression in Nine Inch Nails' "The Day The World Went Away". Take a listen and see what you think...
Nine Inch Nails - "The Day The World Went Away"
Coil - "Bee Stings"
On "Summer Substructures", Balance sings in falsetto and it's startling and stark and beautiful. After a fashion. The lyrics center around water and drowning. It sounds very old; a proclamation given by a seer standing on the top of a lush, green mountain while a thunderstorm whips around him, his words chilling and prophetic.
Next, we learn that juxtaposition can be fucking awful as "A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)" comes tearing at us, full speed and at full volume. My first thoughts were, "Ah! Fuck you!" but, once you get past the full minute or so of aural excrement, you get what sounds like Snarf reciting the prophecies of Nostradamus...which is a completely different brand of fucking awful.
The warning referred to in the title is "don't listen to this track".
Tucked away behind this turd is a live version of the last track on the next EP, called "Amethyst Deceivers". The live version has a totally different instrumental arrangement and features Balance without the vocal effects used on the album version. The result is some electronic fart noises darting in and out of some pretty vibraphone music with Balance sounding a bit like Richard O'Brien at an open mic night.

The next EP, Autumn Equinox: Amethyst Deceivers, begins with...well, I don't quite know if you'd call it keening or caterwauling...I leave it up to you to decide which or to never think about it again once this sentence ends. Whatever the case, that's what "Regel" is. And it's kind of hard to listen to.
But, as with "Summer Substructures" and "A Warning From The Sun", turnabout is fair play, and "Regel" gives way to "Rosa Decidua", one of the most glorious pieces on Moon's Milk. I have never heard anything like this on a Coil album. A man and woman (the first I've experienced during my journey through their catalog) provide the soaring, gorgeous, heartbreaking backdrop for Balance to take on the role of a priest or elder.
Rose, I hear your voice near to me
I've put away the poisoned chalice, for now
And lie down amongst the flowerbeds

Whichever stars we walk among
We both seek out the darkest red
The wine was turned to blood again
Without this blood we'd both be dead

I've wound myself tight into the headgerows
Let's see which way the winter wind blows

You are my shadow
Sadly, this...glory...is followed by "Switches", or, a robot kitten mewling and then screeching into a sparking electrical outlet into which is plugged a broken dot matrix printer.
Like I said, turnabout is fair play.
Things get good again with "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant", where we see Balance once again cast as the holy man, although this is less of a sorrowful recitation as with "Rosa Decidua", and more of a nightmarish vision of the end times. The music is grand and soaring and full of portents and foreboding. The lyrics speak of the "construction of disasters" and "the black magic of the Earth" and the "crackling ice temples". Something horrible is coming, this holy man has seen it, but he might not think the world is worth saving.
The final track, the aforementioned "Amethyst Deceivers", has a lot more power here on the album than it does, live, on the stage. The main focus is on a guitar...an actual, holy-fuck-is-that-just-a-regular-old-guitar guitar playing a melody that sounds as eternal as these Amethyst Deceivers of which Balance speaks. The music tells of how legendary these beings are; that they are forever, unkillable, evil, cruel.

The final piece of this work, Winter Solstice: North starts off with "A White Rainbow", yet another component from the service that is being held throughout Moon's Milk; a hymn, in this instance. For some reason, they choose to ruin the end of this solemn, serene moment with dissonance and chaos, which is, of course, their choice to make; I'm just not sure why they made it.
Next is "North", a shorter, less interesting, yet somewhat soothing piece which features overlapping, stuttering voices that eventually flows into "Magnetic North", which becomes a hypnotic incantation over warm sheets of sound; the sound of the Northern Lights.

Blue sapphire six-pointed star / Deep ruby-red inverted pyramid / Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel / White-winged globe define the forehead / black egg within the throat / heaviness, heaviness

The final track has terrified me ever since I saw it, lurking there, at the bottom of the track list; it's called "Christmas Is Now Drawing Near". As the merest idea of Coil writing and recording a Christmas song is blasphemous, you'll understand how relieved I was when I discovered that this is actually just a version of the traditional Celtic song performed by the gifted Scottish singer, Rose McDowall (who also performs on "Rosa Decidua"). It's heartbreakingly beautiful, expressing both the warmth and happiness of Christmas as well as the loneliness and alienation is can also bring about. A truly stunning ending to what might be my favorite Coil album thus far.

There is so much beauty here. Usually tempered by sorrow or loss or loneliness and, occasionally, set alongside some of Coil's more familiar electronic graffiti, but real, hallowed beauty all the same. Above all else, Moon's Milk feels sacred whereas most of the sonic spaces Coil has created feel profane and godless, threatening and unwelcoming. This is less of a ritual and more of a mass and, again, the beauty here is just startling. I would go ahead and say something like, well, better not get used to it because I've grown to know what to expect from Coil, but, after Moon's Milk, I have to come to terms with the fact that I really have no clue what they're going to do next, and that makes me so joyous.


  





* Pitch changes which, when applied to the organ, remind me a bit of the opening sound wash of Nine Inch Nail's "The Day The World Went Away"...a track I'll be referring to at least once more in this review.

12.18.2012

If Stupid Were Fatal, They'd All Be Dead

You know what happens when you don't pay attention to your physical Netflix queue?
You get Rob Zombie's Halloween...and you watch it.

Now, I had seen this before and most of it seemed familiar. But, this time, I had some thoughts regarding this remake.

The first question that must have popped up was how in the fuck do we make Michael Myers  the victim? Well, obviously, you make everyone around him worse than a soulless killing machine.
Also, make them white trash*.
No, trashier...little more trashy...more...moooore....okay.
No.
More.
Little more.
Okay, good.
There.
NOW we shall sympathize with little Michael Myers as he kills a whole bunch of people, and I did, until he killed his promiscuous sister with the great ass, there, right there did I stop identifying and rooting for the child psychopath.

A quick aside to state the obvious here: Sherri Moon (Rob Zombie's wife...the lucky fucking whoreson) is actually a really strong actress. She does broken and desperate yet loving very well.

I like the subtle reinterpretation and reintroduction of the trademark Halloween Mask (although, at times, it looks like Henry Winkler and, at other times, Dustin Hoffman, neither of which are William Shatner). The shading and different angels they use on it brings about a depth I'd never noticed before.
Way to go, Rob.

Then, after Malcolm McDowell (the esteemed British child psychologist who is slumming in Bugfuck, Illinois for some odd and unexplained reason) overacts and underachieves with him, little Michael goes from "troubled little boy" to "super crazy little fucker" by stabbing a lazy nurse (who was told to watch the kid who killed four people and doesn't) with a fork.**

Jump forward fifteen years: Michael Myers is grown up, almost seven feet tall, has long, scraggly hair that's always in his face....wait...am I Michael Myers? His only friend in the whole world is a janitor, played by Danny Trejo, which is always a good sign.

Now, another aside in which I shall address typical, stupid horror movie behavior. Some might say that this is sort of a tradition and that's why it's still allowed to happen and, in some cases, even celebrated, but others are smart and see it for what it is: laziness. Don't misunderstand, if you are making an hilarious parody of a horror movies and these stale-ass tropes, say Scary Movie or something like that, and want to have all the stereotypical characters get locked in a stereotypical situation where stereotypical things will happen to them, go for it, but, go big or go home. What is about to happen in this movie, some might consider "going big", but, personally, I consider it "going stupid".

So, in order to juxtapose the quiet, caring figure of Danny Trejo, we have the screamingly stupid, dickhead redneck who, somehow SOMEHOW isn't frightened or even mildly concerned with the fact that Michael Myers is a convicted murderer and fucking eight feet tall. In a less...Rob Zombie movie, this redneck might tease Michael or hit him with a stick or something, pushing him too far until he snaps, but, guys, this is a fucking Rob Zombie movie...go big or fuck you. So, rather than just pissing off Michael, the idiot redneck and his cousin/brother/moonshine pally, bring another patient, a teenage girl, into his cell AND THEN PROCEED TO RAPE HER.
*sigh*
At least they should have closed the door before they got started.
Michael, in a startling turn of events, kills the both of them, some chick and then, sadly, Danny Trejo, who whispers, pathetically, while Michael kills the shit out of him, "I was good to you!"
Well that's it! I am now 100% done sympathizing with Michael Myers.
For now.

Once Michael has officially escaped, there is a scene with McDowell (who hasn't stopped chewing the goddamn scenery since he walked on screen amidst a flourish of trumpets and rose petals) and Clint Howard.
I'm pretty sure it was at that point that this stopped even being a "movie" and descended into "flick" territory.

Next, Michael kills the only black man in the movie, an embarrassingly over-the-top caricature of a human, in a bathroom, and then walks a hundred miles in a very short time to return to his home town where he kills a bunch of teenage girls who were way overdue for killing and who all have lovely breasts and bottoms.*** Speaking of which, thanks to Michael and, I suppose, Rob Zombie, I was given a chance to see if I was aroused or not by bloody boobs. I am happy to report that I am not.****

There is also a random title card that reads "Trick or treat". Throughout this movie, yes, there have been title cards, but they have only been utilized to give context as to the scene (i.e. "Fifteen years later", "October 31st", etc.), so, I don't know, I guess I'm asking Rob Zombie, "Why? What's up with the random title card that says 'Trick or treat'? What the fuck were you thinking?"

Moving on.

Michael starts killing a lot of people, most of who end up crawling around for a few minutes before Michael ends it. At one point, he's chasing one girl who's looking after two kids and, once he breaks down the front door, the girl commands, "Into the bathroom!" which confused me, especially since the bathroom door was mostly made of glass. Although, even if it wasn't made of glass...it's the bathroom, why is that room more secure from mask-wearing serial killers? Just because you poop somewhere doesn't mean it's the safest place in the house.

Eventually, Michael squares off against his mortal enemy: his 16-year old sister, and, after taking, like, six fucking slugs from a .357 at close range and a goddamn butcher's knife to the neck, the big fucker dies.
Totally.
Once and for all.
Then, after he pops back up like an adolescent's boner and attacks the car in which McDowell and Michael estranged sister sit, McDowell utters what might be the most unintentionally funniest exclamation I've heard in a horror movie...Michael smashes through the passenger window and is in the process of dragging his sister out when McDowell yells, "Jesus Christ!!! What the hell is going on?!"
Acting, Malcolm, that is what the hell is going on.
And you are not invited.
In the end, Michael totally dies again, super for real and is now gone for good totally.
Yeah.

The sequel arrives in the mail tomorrow.
I've been told that "Weird" Al Yankovic has a cameo.






* But not regular, sad white trash like in Winter's Bone, no. This is a Rob Zombie movie, so make them White Zombie Trash.

** How come the lazy idiots I work with never get stabbed with forks for their incompetence?

*** Credit where credit's due.
**** I wholeheartedly believe it is good to know such things about one's self.

12.14.2012

Like Humans Do

Three days.
For THREE DAYS I have been living among you as a Daylighter.
Waking at 8:00 am, going to sleep before midnight.
Calling my first meal "breakfast" instead of "lunch" or "supper".
And, I have formed a conclusion regarding you who walk in the light: while you may get more done, you are all angry about this fact.
I cannot wait to return to the sweet, silky darkness...

The reason I've been exposing myself to such horrid, quotidian rituals all center around the Acting, to one degree or another. Wednesday and Thursday, it was for two 5-hour rehearsals for tomorrow and Sunday's recording sessions for Electromagnetic Theater, a new podcast/radio play series I'm in and, today, because Carabbas wanted my mouth and the sounds within.
AND I GAVE IT TO THEM.
I've worked with this company before on a Harley-Davidson commercial and...yeah.
Both were commercials.
Right on.
Before the industry shuts down for Christmas and New Years and all that, I have another session with Speakaboos on Thursday which, according to the Executive Content Producer, will be "meaty".
You know I love meat.
You know I love meat!

And now, let's move on to something else.
Specifically four bits of stuff that I have consumed/am in the midst of consuming.

First, after some suggestion from Alan, I have cracked open the first of the Young Bond books, of which there are five. The first one, SilverFin, starts off with Bond's first day at Eton as a 13 year old or something.
I've read about a third and I am utterly unimpressed.
Aside from the fact that this kid will, one day, turn into James Bond and kill some dude with a laser watch, this is pretty boring shit. Also, it appears that SilverFin is some sort of eel man.
I might continue, just to see what the fuck is going on, but I also might not, as Phil's brand new book, the first is his new tetrology, is sitting, hot and steaming, like a blood pie on my windowsill.
That rambled a bit.
I'd much rather read the latest work of fiction from my very good friend then some bullshit about a 13 year old James Bond matching wits with some eel man.

Then, there is American Horror Story, the first season of which Chris and I burned our way through in about four days.
It's like a darker and more in-depth Beetlejuice.
With rape.
And, I'm sorry, but Jesus fucking goddamn CHRIST is Alexandra Breckenridge hotter than lava with a sunburn or WHAT?!*
I love love love that the guys who did Glee did this as well.
Let's see...Zachary Quinto is awesome, the opening credits (visuals by the guy who did the credits for Se7en and music by the former keyboardist from Nine Inch Nails) are amazing nightmare brownie cake and...shit, I don't know, the whole thing is incredible and twisted and I'm gloriously happy that I missed hearing anything about it until now.

But, good TV must, sadly, be opposed by bad TV...and, yes, I'm addressing YOU, Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
So, I missed the phenomenon of Buffy when it was on. My first exposure to Buffy was fucking EVERYONE in my high school overquoting the shit out of it and, if they were a girl, ladyjerking over Spike. I encountered Joss Whedon's writing for the first time (I think) in Firefly, which I loved, then Dollhouse and so on and so forth. Jen made an arrangement with me that if I gave Buffy another chance (I'd watched the first season and was thoroughly unimpressed and puzzled at its popularity and success): just watch a select number of episodes from the second season, and she would, in turn, watch Dollhouse, which she had not touched because of here (completely justified) hatred of Eliza Dushku, the lead character.
While Dollhouse seems to be growing on her (although the core premise makes her rather furious and sick, and rightly so), I am NOT having the same reaction to Buffy.
Some of the issues I'm having:

1. Xander - I can't think of any character that has made me want to crawl inside my TV and make killing more than this pud. I say, out loud, "Shut the fuck up, Xander" several times per episode. And, by the way, before anyone comes back with, "He's written that way on purpose! You're supposed to hate him!", may I offer a retort: AN INTENTIONALLY ANNOYING CHARACTER IS STILL FUCKING ANNOYING.

2. You know...I just don't care enough to list reasons. I'll do my best to watch the five or six more episodes I said I would, "ten millions Americas can't be wrong" and al that. I can't explain it. Maybe this is like my thing with Wes Anderson...everyone I know who has seen all the Wes Anderson movies seems to like every one except one. For me, it's Rushmore. Can't stand it, can't watch it, but, I own everything else the guy has done, and, while I like some (Life Aquatic, Royal Tenenbaums) more than others (Darjeetling Limited, Bottle Rocket), the only one I hate is Rushmore.
Perhaps Buffy is my Rushmore.
Or perhaps I'm putting too much effort into talking about this...

I also watched Disaster Movie.
*sigh*
Can I hire someone to warn me when I start thinking about watching certain TV and movies?
And, here's the thing, I knew what I was in for! I saw Not Another Teen Movie! I saw Epic Movie! This is entirely my fault! Half of this shitty piece of lowest-common-denominator shit was the cast looking puzzled/disgusted/confusing/annoyed/unbelieving/bemused/worried/incredulous at something happening. Then shaking their heads like, "Whoa, what was that, that was weird!!!!!" and then doing it again on a different set.
For 90 minutes.
Two things I enjoyed: the Princess was great and the chipmunks were also pretty great.
But that is about four minuets of funny in an hour and a half long movie.
And I have NO ONE to blame but my fucking self.
This isn't Mystery Science Theater! I AM NOT BEING FORCED TO WATCH THESE THINGS!

And, the last crouton on this shit salad: I played through Lollipop Cheerleader. It's....so substanceless... Or, no, more like a hollow turkey dinner...no...hm...okay, the game's creator, Suda 51, became infamous for his random and somewhat bawdy sense of humor with his utterly out there games like God Hand and No More Heroes and Killer 7, but Lollipop Cheerleader...I don't know, it's like there's nothing there...playing it was a chore, the dialogue was trite and, at times, violently sexist for no reason at all....it's like it doesn't even exist...I can't even put it into words...
So, I won't.
If I'd paid more than $20 for it, I might have been more upset, but I didn't so I'm not.

Moving on...
to nothing.







* I'm a man with a penis. Deal with it. DEAL WITH IT NOW.

A review of Coil's "Time Machines"

























This...is going to be a tough one, maybe the toughest.
So, Time Machines (originally released in 1998), according to John Balance, is meant to facilitate time travel and to create time disruption or "temporal slips" for the listener.
I have yet to experience any such event, although, as all of the tracks share their names with hallucinogenic substances, perhaps it's me that's doing something wrong.
You know, I'll just quote Balance on this one:


One of the interesting things with Time Machines is that there's a handful of responses which we've had where what happened to the listeners was exactly what we intended to happen. There would be some kind of temporal disruption caused by just listening to the music, just interacting with the music. The drugs thing is actually a hook we hung it on - it originally came out of me and Drew talking that some of the types of music you listen to - sacred musics like Tibetan music or anything with a sacred intent which often is long ceremonial type music which could last for a day or three days or something. There are periods of time in that where you will come out of time. That's the intention of it to go into a trance and achieve an otherness. We thought can we do this sort of electronic punk-primitive? We did demos with a simple mono synth and we managed it. We sat in the room and listened to it loud and we lost track of time - it could be five minutes in or 20 minutes in but you suddenly get this feeling, the hairs on the back of your neck, and you'd realise that you'd had some sort of temporal slip. We fine-tuned, well, filters and oscillators and stuff, to try and maximise this effect. It was that we were after with simple tones - somehow you could slip through.
So...yeah.
This may or may not be the case, but here is my experience with Time Machines.

The first track, "7-Methoxy-β-Carboline: (Telepathine)", is pure texture. One note which is oscillated and phased and subtly adjusted over the course of twenty-three minutes (give or take a spacial dimension or two). It's sort of like the aural equivalent of the ocean's surface: affected by the wind, the planet's motion, the creatures within it and so on. A phrase came to mind while I was listening to it: "staring at a candle in a completely darkened room, finding total focus and meaning therein."
Then again, I was ingesting a lot of Telepathine at the time.
One thing I will say, when I accedentally bumped my iPod and paused the track, the resultant silence was jarring; there's definately an all-enveloping sound created here and leaving it abruptly is quite unpleasant.


Well...there seem to be only two elements in "2,5-Dimethoxy-4-Ethyl-Amphetamine: (DOET/Hecate)", the parts that ripple and the parts that don't.  Compared to this, the first track is a symphony. Then again, this is only a scant thirteen and a half minutes and I completely understand if they didn't really have time to fully evolve and explore the track like they wanted to.
Can you sense my sarcasm?
Is my sarcasm real?
How can you tell?
Whose eye stalks are growing out of my fingertips?
Let's move on...

The trombone solo at the start of "5-Methoxy-N, N-Dimethyltryptamine: (5-MeO-DMT)" is just stunning.
Just kidding. More of the not-exactly-the-same-but-pretty-much-the-same, although, the note that makes up this track is noticeably higher in pitch and the minute variations are more dramatic (while still being minute) and come more frequently here. There seems to actually be something happening in the background, unless that's just my brain playing tricks on itself. While nothing on this album could really be considered soothing, this one is the least soothing thus far. "5-Methoxy-N, N-Dimethyltryptamine: (5-MeO-DMT)" isn't for floating, unaware, in a pool of ichor in some malignant lagoon or meditating on the cold, black infinity of space, it's for opening one's third eye...and firing optic blasts from it. Clocking in at just over ten minutes, this can barely be considered a song...relatively speaking...I mean, nothing here can actually be considered a song by any sane and established definitions.

The final, epic track of Time Machines, "4-Indolol, 3-[2-(Dimethylamino)Ethyl], Phosphate Ester: (Psilocybin)", is over twenty-six minutes long and, thusly, forced me to look inside myself and ask the hard questions: Is this pool of light in which I'm standing sentient? If not, then how could it have created the shadows which surround it? Is not creation the act of a sentient being? If not, what does this imply about God? Is guava a donut? While the other tracks felt a bit sterile and digital, this one sounds organic enough to give off a distinctly infected feel. Here is the score for a temple full of the dead, in the presence of worms. There arises a persistent, high-pitched tone like a hearing test which is all that remains when the main note fades away and a huge, thrumming, like a faulty generator, begins to float threateningly in from the abyss beyond the windows, doing nothing to make anyone feel better: the power is about to go out, then we'll be left here, alone, in the dark, with the things.
Finally, everything fades away, and we're left with something that sounds a little bit like the first few notes of "Taps". After a bit more distortion, Time Machines ends.

I've never been more afraid of being exposed to a brown note than while listening to Coil*, and I've never been more wary than while listening to this album. But, as I haven't shit myself while listening to them**, I guess it was all in my mind. Throughout this album, specifically on track two, I kept waiting for some simple yet compelling percussion to come in and for Thom Yorke to start keening about something profound. I also kept expecting the world around me to melt away into a waxy, rainbow-colored gruel, revealing the true nature of time and the Universe and the secrets of pants.
But neither of those things happened.***
Maybe I wasn't listening hard enough.
Or maybe I wasn't ingesting mind-altering substances.
Or both.
Who knows?







* Marilyn Manson has always talked about putting brown notes and ultra-high frequency noises into his stuff, but Coil's mindfuckery makes Manson's poor attempt at it look like a fart in a thunderstorm.

** Yet.

*** Although it was very surreal to listen to track four while standing in the heart of Times Square during lunchtime.

12.07.2012

A review of Coil's "The Unreleased Themes For Hellraiser"






















Decided to give myself a little break after the epic, aural investment that was The Remote Viewer and check out the music Coil composed for use in the 1987 horror film, Clive Barker's Hellraiser. However, it turned out that the studio thought what they had come up with was "not commercial enough" for this movie about demons dragging people to hell and the blurry line between pleasure and pain, so they went in another direction. Whether or not the folks at the studio had ever actually seen the film or not is unclear as Coil's stuff is fucking perfect for a movie like this. And (of course) the majority of the music on this release is so ridiculously tame for Coil, one has to wonder if those same studio folks had ever heard anything by the band before asking them to score the movie.
Anal Staircase? Helllooo?

In the end, the studio went with Christopher Young, who did a very boring and typical job on the score (*slow, unimpressed clapping noise made by lazy hip thrusts which result in my penis slapping my scrotum*), and Coil released what they had created as an album...an incredibly short (six tracks, with nary a one over four minutes) and, for the most part, incredibly tame album.* Along with the six "main" tracks, they included eleven tracks (nary a one over a minute and a half) of very short incidental music with titles like "Perfume" and "Airline 1 & 2" and "Cosmetic 1 & 2". These are so utterly unlike Coil that I kinda sorta don't believe it's them, especially on the final track, "Accident Insurance", which is so melodic and soft and airy and beautiful that it's absolutely jaw-dropping to think it sprang forth from the same diseased mind as did (insert, literally, any Coil track released up to this point in time).
Anyway, onto the album...

Of the six tracks, there are four that are so similar in arrangement and instrumentation that they might as well be the four movements of one, larger piece. All have common elements, such as the same (or very nearly the same) wash of painfully late-80's synth (which were probably thought of as sleek and dangerous back then), a didgeridoo and what sounds like a dentist's drill way up in the left channel. While the first, "Hellraiser Theme", has some stuff in it that's so reminiscent of Mark Snow's work on both Twin Peaks and X-Files (not to mention elements of the score from Labyrinth, mostly the drums) that I was unable to focus, the second, "The Hellbound Heart" features a twangy, broken-sounding piano and a nice progression of sound that work really well.
The third track, "Box Theme", is the first of two diversions from the blendy, sound-alike nature of the menacing 80's synth wash. It's all detuned music boxes, clicking, clanking clockwork and jagged metal bits, ready to cut one's fingers and transmit something nasty into the blood. Anyone familiar with the Hellraiser franchise knows that the puzzle box plays a major role in the mythology and this would have been perfect to usher it onto the screen and into our nightmares.
Then, the synth wash is back on the more subtle and sparse "No New World". Honestly though, "subtle" and "sparse" are just polite ways of saying "forgettable".
Next, the second detour from this shockingly mundane Coil offering, "Attack of the Sennapods."** This right here is another foray into the heart of Silent Hill. The two most prominent sounds are an electronic/mechanical chittering noise and what sounds like a horde of the roiling, unquiet dead heard through a thin door...one which they are actively looking to open and enter through. This track (plus that constant, almost unnoticed, potentially subliminal(?) high-pitched drill noise) might have been what changed the studio's mind when it came to Coil.
"Well, gosh, we don't want to scare people, do we?!"
Fools.
After this little night terror, we return to "Main Theme", the final track and probably the one that utilizes the pervasive 80's frame of mind the best. The instrumentation (sort of a backwards pipe thing) works great with the synth wash and even more so once the drums and piano join in. I'd have been happy with just this and maybe "The Hellbound Heart", as the others that mimic these take something away.

So, there you have it.
Roughly twenty minutes of the most un-Coily Coil music I have ever heard.
Music that, while very un-Coily, is very Hellraiser-y and would have made that movie even more memorable than it already is.
Hm.
This was too easy, too accessible, too enjoyable, but, don't worry, there's nowhere to go from here but down...and next week...I will get down...and, perhaps, travel in time...








* There were four more tracks from the Hellraiser sessions (about ten minutes more total) which popped up later on the b-side and rarity collection, Unnatural History II.

** Which may be a version of the name of the franchise's iconic antagonists, the Cenobites. Pinhead? Helllooo?

12.06.2012

A List Of Why Today Is Good (in no particular order)

1. My VO re-record for Lenovo went off without a hitch and was received by the L.A. cell of TransPerfect, also without a hitch.

2. My copy of Lollipop Chainsaw arrived.

3. I have the Fraggle Rock theme stuck in my head and I'm loving every second of it.

4. Didn't feel exhausted after working out.

5. Speakaboos is having me back for a 3 hour session next week.

6. A mind-boggling fifty people have read my review of Coil's Scatology, I think due so some French dude who favorited the tweet in which the link was contained. Vive la France! Vive Coil!

7. The legion of endorphins blasting through my blood stream thanks to number 4.

8. Chris and I are two steps closer to locking down our catering for the wedding.

9. I just found out that Cake is coming to the Bowery Ballroom about two weeks before my birthday.

10. Realized that today is Thursday and not Wednesday.

12.04.2012

Like Rinsing My Brain Under A Waterfall

Today, I just put on my iPod and hit shuffle.
No Coil.
It was....so...refreshing...I cannot speak of it...

Back to the Coil Review Project tomorrow.

But...for today...anything but Coil...

12.03.2012

It Ain't Easy Being Awesome -OR- It's Actually Pretty Easy And Awesome Being Awesome

First, some victorious self-tooting, if I may.
Without going into too much detail: I had a VO session with a big corporation recently.
The promised rate was $1000.
After the session, the producer told some untruth to my agent regarding me, which I, rather rabidly, refuted.
Next, instead of having me back in to do some more work on the session (which they asked about in an earlier e-mail), they decided to go with another talent (which has happened to me before and doesn't really matter because this was a poorly written internal thing which no one was really going to have seen anyway and, either way, whether they use it or not, I still get paid) and then try to ask for an invoice...for $300.
Hey now wait.
There were e-mails exchanged back and forth, all of which amounted to jack shit, because the contract I received FROM said producer on the day of the session said, clearly, $1000.
Anyway, after some bullshit, this huge and very well-paid corporation found it in their gigantic and love-filled hearts to honor the original fucking contract.
Fucking assholes.
Anyway, hard won victory.
Tastes like the best lobster rolls in Maine.

On top of that, tomorrow and Wednesday I have bookings, one for MCCH...whatever that is, and then I go back in for some more Miriam Hospital stuff.
Plus, last week, San Pelligrino had me back for my third session for their new internal video thing.
It's sexy and sexy and yeah.

Over the weekend, I recorded three episodes of digressive_obscenity (with Ray Zibba Zabba, Alex "Wide Receiver" Pakla and Dawn Brooke Owens, putting me four away from my goal of ten for the first wave. While I have a few potential guests lined up, I'm always looking for more, so, let me know if you have an iPhone and an urge to get digressive with me.

Aside from creative things that I am involved with, there's a bunch of creative stuff that I am not involved with that I am enjoying.

Such as Community (after having it, literally, forced down my throat by Jen and Lisa, I have finally sat down and burned my way thought the first two and a half seasons, leaving me with only 12 or 13 more episodes before they are finished and a part of me dies...until February. On the whole, I have found real enjoyment, and, in some cases, like the paintball episodes and that parallel dimension episode, some profound joy, but, while I haven't disliked any one episode, sometimes the hype doesn't live up to the product. It is, however, immanently quotable. And season three is delightfully batshit thus far.).

I've also just embarked upon the fifth season of Mad Men and...well, things are happening there as well. I continue to love how hateable Roger is. And seeing Alison Brie as both Pete Campbell's wife and Annie Edison is...confusingly arousing or arousingly confusing.
Or both.

Just recently, Chris stumbled across what may be the darkest and most disjointed Brit-com I've ever seen. It's called Snuff Box and is (incredibly) loosely based around these two hangmen, Matt Berry and Rich Fulcher. These guys have popped up in The IT Crowd and Mighty Boosh as well as a bunch of other BBC stuff (I love how incestuous the BBC is...) and...it's pretty insane. I don't really think I can explain it...so...I'd say you should just track it down; it's streaming on Netflix.
If this helps, Christina is convinced that I've written about 80% of it.

Over the weekend, Chris and I also took in Pirate Radio (which, while nothing more than a blow job for all of rock and roll- not that there is a thing wrong with that, rock and roll is pretty awesome- had an amazing cast and some of the best deleted scenes I've seen since Wet Hot American Summer. Sadly, it also had a lot of montages the content of which covered "people listening to the radio while happy", "people dancing while listening to the radio" and "people listening to the radio while sad". Maybe if they had cut out some of these montages, they could have fit some of the forty minutes of deleted scenes back into the film.) and Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (which is based on a book that Marilyn Manson has been fellating since the early 90's. It stars Ben Whishaw (the new Q) and, after seeing this, I truly believe that he should be the next Bond villain. Wow is this dark and well shot and that makes it worse because you can clearly see all the dark and horrible shit going on on the screen. Worth a look if you have the balls and guts and stomach and other parts of human anatomy.).

Along with these, I was almost done re-reading The Langoliers, but got bored when they started refueling the jet, and put it down in favor of re-reading some of the Ian Fleming Bond books, namely Live and Let Die. I've also ordered the first of the Young Bond series from the early 00's as Alan has been going on about them favorablyy for quite a while.

I also have the urge to read more Iron Man...so that may happen as well...if you're lucky.

Shockingly, I haven't been doing much gaming as I'm still waiting for that Resident Evil 6 update that allows Jen and I to finally finish the fucking game. I AM SUCH A GOOD AND PATIENT FRIEND AS I COULD HAVE FINISHED THIS ON MY OWN MONTHS AGO!!!!! I have five brand new, unopened video games (The Amazing Spider-Man, Silent Hill: Downpour, Shadows of the Damned and Assassin's Creed 3 with Lollipop Chainsaw on the way) and all I want to do is finish RE6.
WHY IS LIFE SO UNFAIR?!

I don't know why these things keep happening to me.

But, aside from all this horrible stuff, the plans for my wedding to my One and Only are running smoothly now that the election is over. She's got her dress and, hopefully, this weekend will result in our caterers being booked...hopefully. I am finding that the money-grubbing, love-raping, cold, gray, stone-faced wedding industry is not making me love Christina any less, so I guess that's something.