ClownCarBlog.com

OK, Just One Quiz Today ...

Which Bob Dylan song are you? The Times They Are A-Changin'

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Movie Preview: Mayor of the Sunset Strip

Rock of Ages

Hyperbole or not, when you lead off a movie review with the following ...

This may sound an eensy bit hyperbolic, but dig: Mayor of the Sunset Strip is the greatest rock and roll movie of all time.

... you've got to make a damn good case that the movie measures up. In this case, HouPress reviewer Gregory Weinfauf does just that and I've got to admit to being a slight bit anxious to take in this flick. Presently debating between rushing downtown for the 7:20 showing or taking in dinner first and making the 9:25 version. Decisions ...

UPDATE: 9:25 it is. Thus far, myself and Uber are down for this event. Preshow powwow will be at an undisclosed restaurant that doubles as both a source of great food and perhaps a decent lead in on the entertainment. I'll save that surprise till you read about it here after the fact. But if you're interested in joining in, email me.

Some Remarks On A Concert

I was in a video/music store in a mall one recent afternoon and, while in the captivity of a checkout line, suffered through a few selections of current ska-derivative rap "music". It's this sort of pretentious and dischordant garbage that can actually (over time, anyway) sour one on modern music movements altogether, sending me as it does back into classical periods almost every time.

But later that day I attended a concert which actually argued for a reasessment of the worth of Rock 'n Roll. The artist was the singer David Bowie. Yes, Rock is beset with limited style and instrumentation and therefore expression (compared to an orchestra) and with frequently impeachable contemporary convictions to express, but Bowie demands of me a second look.

At his concert I witnessed a performance of "White Light/White Heat" (generally associated with Lou Reed) that I now consider definitive in its powerful simplicity. I marveled at a stage presence usually seen in singing actors on Broadway. His take on "All The Young Dudes" (to crib from Woody Allen) "brought back my childhood in a sudden pristine rush". I'd never cared for the original arrangement of "Fame" (although I accepted the premise of the lyric) but the way it came together for this lineup of musicians, I'd say that Bowie finally sold me the package.

There are many performers, but there are few great showmen. Bowie may be as valuable to "traditional" rock music as it's said that Bruce Springsteen was for carrying the torch of the style during the Disco period. Bowie continues to prove that whites can play the funk, that modern singers can be dramatically expressive, and that, recent whiner-music aside, upbeat and danceable anthem Rock-'n-Roll is alive and well.

Finally, if one can find something that one can do with the obvious satisfaction that Bowie takes in his work, that person has fulfillment enough for at least one life.

Memories of Guitar Conventions Past

Report from the 27th Annual Dallas Guitar Show

This brings back memories. I got into guitar in my high school years in the DFW suburbs. The Dallas conventions spoiled me rotten. I got to gander at the absolute finest guitars in the world, taking in the heavy metal inspired works of art in terms of design and paint jobs, as well as get a feel for a then-new line of guitars: PRS, that has since taken over the upper echelons of guitars, I maintain. I also got to see jam sessions with Paul Stanley (pre-masked KISS reunion) , Bruce Kulick (back when he was still in KISS and still known) and Vivian Campbell (back when he was in Whitesnake and still cool). I also got to check out Cinderella's Tom Keifer inspect a ton of Fender telecasters for his personal usage, take in a Billy Sheehan clinic from the front row and then wish him well on his new project with some guy named David Lee Roth, play a massive game of Stump The Dimebag by tossing song titles at Pantera's Dimebag Darrell to riff on (this was still when Pantera was a glam metal band, too), and harass the guitar player from KEEL, Marc Ferrari, for a picture. The main draw, for me, was to snap some pics, play a new guitar or two (from whichever dealer I could convince), and see what else was new in musicland. I had a bit of a letdown once we moved back to Houston and realized that the local variety consisted mostly of vintage guitars (plus a big space for Rockin' Robin guitars). They did at least have a decent draw at the first (and last) one I attended: Paul Gilbert, then of Mr. Big. I still have their first CD with his sig all over the cover.

Rotten to the Core

Just rotten

John Lydon, aka Johnny Rotten, said he would pick Justin Timberlake to play him in a new film based on his autobiography. Mr. Lydon says Mr. Timberlake agreed to play the former Sex Pistol ? as long as the punk rocker stays away from the set. According to Ananova.com, Mr. Lydon also said he felt sorry for the former 'NSync star for being "Britneyized." He added that he has given the green light for the Hollywood version of his book, "No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs."

What next? Dustin Diamond plays Joey Ramone? Reminds me ... this movie opens Friday. I'm planning on a Friday or Saturday jaunt to Angelika to take it in.

All Hail The Master

Guitarist Satriani chases perfect 'rock moment'

Used to be that the best bio peices on guitar players only happened to make the light of day in music mags. This stands as a damned good recap of one guitar legend, Joe Satriani, in the heels of his new CD release.

Say what you will of the "virtuoso" class of guitar players. I'd maintain that Joe's enduring success is due to being a bit towards the "understandable" side of the ledger. Some of his work may qualify as outright commercial, but I don't know that it's as simple an explanation as that. The guy has a good understanding of how to hold an audience with an instrumental, and that's a knack I've not seen many artists do, regardless of genre.

For what it's worth, Satch was the straw that broke the camel's back for me and led me to hang up the guitar. Literally, after hearing his first two releases: Not of This Earth and Surfing with the Alien, I realized there was nothing I could personally aspire to on guitar as Satch's work was easily the most original and expressive of its day. After picking up my guitar for the first time in ages recently, I now curse the day I gave up the habit. These freakin callouses are killing me.

Guitarist Satriani chases perfect 'rock moment' Joel Selvin, Chronicle Senior Pop Music Critic Tuesday, April 13, 2004

When guitarist Joe Satriani called his band together to begin recording his latest album, he knew what he wanted the other musicians to do.

"I told them, 'What I'm going to ask you to create on this record is what we're going to call a rock moment,' " he says. "I don't care if you miss that accent, if you blow through something. I want you to find the spot in this song where you can play your rock moment.'

"That guidance seemed to help us play a certain way."

Satriani, 47, knows rock moments. His entire adult life has been an exhaustive quest for just such epiphanies on electric guitar. He is rock's leading instrumental artist, and he conscientiously developed his own unique voice on an instrument played by many.

Satriani lives with his wife, Rubina, their 11-year-old son, Z.Z., and a chummy Norwich terrier named Grizz on a shady side street in decidedly upscale Laurel Heights, where one of his neighbors owns the Golden State Warriors and the other is the son of the founder of the Gap. His artist wife, who also used to run antique stores, has decorated the spacious '50s home with old clocks and rough-hewn, custom-built wooden doors. Downstairs, a big, largely empty rumpus room opens to the garden. Off to the side, a small room barely bigger than a large closet is where Satriani spends hours every day chasing those moments.

The walls of the small, windowless studio are covered with framed photographs and posters of rock guitar heroes such as Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, along with Satriani's own gold record awards. A tiny drum kit is squashed into the corner, and a rack holds a surprisingly small group of guitars and a couple of electric basses. Satriani sits on an armless chair in front of a computer playing guitar at car-radio volume in this little room daily for hours at a time -- "eight to 10 hours, easily," he says.

He mainly plays the JS Joe Satriani model Ibanez, a wooden electric guitar covered with a veneer of aluminum. With a pair of his trademark wrap- around sunglasses, his gleaming guitar and cleanly shaved head, he is instantly transformed into a rock star. Without the guitar and the glasses, he is a soft, delicate, almost wan gentleman with an easy grin and sharp, intelligent eyes.

Growing up as the youngest of five children in Long Island, he turned 14 in 1970, the year Jimi Hendrix died. He had taken drum lessons earlier, but picked up the guitar. He learned music theory in high school. He loved all of the big dumb blues-rock guitarists of the day, but he found a chord book by jazz guitarist Joe Pass that, he says, "changed my playing forever." He also found his way to a second-floor apartment in a Queens brownstone, where he took music lessons from the famed blind jazz pianist Lennie Tristano, who not only played with Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie but was also known as a teacher to big-name '50s jazz musicians such as saxophonist Lee Konitz.

Tristano, a disciplinarian who could abruptly end a lesson if he heard a mistake, taught Satriani that he had to find his own voice.

"He said suburban kids all suffered from the subjunctive disease," Satriani says, "should have, could have, would have ... He taught me to play only what you want to play, not what other people want you to play."

When Satriani moved out to Berkeley in 1976, sharing a small apartment with two older sisters, he locked himself up for a couple of months and spent 13 hours a day incessantly playing, searching for his voice. "It was like trying to lose an accent," he said.

But Satriani always taught guitar, too, giving his first lessons a year and a half after he started playing. One of his Long Island students, Steve Vai, was becoming well known through his work with Frank Zappa and David Lee Roth and was talking about Satriani in interviews with guitar magazines.

In Berkeley, while he played by night in a new-wave outfit called the Squares, he gave lessons during the day above a Grove Street guitar store to young unknowns such as Kirk Hammett of Metallica, David Bryson of Counting Crows and Larry LaLonde of Primus. He developed enough of a reputation on the local club circuit that when the Greg Kihn Band, riding high behind the hit "Jeopardy," lost its guitar player, Satriani got the job.

All the time, he experimented with instrumental recordings (he issued an EP on his own in 1984), but it was his second album, "Surfing With the Alien," that landed him a job backing Mick Jagger on a solo tour of the Far East and started his solo career. "I had never played instrumental music before an audience before," he said.

His ninth album, "Is There Love in Space?," released today, catches Satriani in rip-snorting improvisational rides, laying searing, stinging leads over thick, grinding rhythm parts. Although he cut the album's basic tracks at the Plant studios in Sausalito with engineer John Cuniberti, who has been twiddling knobs for Satriani since he was sound man for the Squares, many of the album's guitar overdubs were done alone in the downstairs closet (credited as Studio 21 in the liner notes).

Sometimes, Satriani admits, he escapes from his cell and retreats to his bedroom upstairs, where he will play nothing but acoustic guitar for weeks. He practiced "If I Could Fly," a song on the new album, that way. Although Satriani is a notorious perfectionist in the studio, one track on the album, "Searching," is nothing but a 10-minute jam in the studio. At first, Satriani refused to even listen to it. But after returning from tour, he listened and slowly warmed to what he heard.

"At first I thought, that's not professional," he says. "Once I got over that, I started to see that someone would hear a voice that they would identify with me."

But Satriani refuses to get more analytical than that. "That's about as close as I want to go. I don't want to know that part of the secret or mystery. I might feel satisfied or, worse, proud."

Another track on the new album also turned out to be a first-take keeper, "Up in Flames," a piece originally intended for a super-group called Planet Us that was on the drawing boards with Sammy Hagar, who instead decided to rejoin Van Halen. "That was the take that had the grease on it," says Satriani. "It was undisciplined, but it sounded right to my ears. I picked up the guitar, did one pass and I thought, 'This was cool.' But that doesn't mean there weren't some songs I played a million times until I got them right.

"You never know when your rock moment is going to happen," he says. "But you've got to respect it when it does."

The DVD Release For Which You Didn't Ask

Well, TH informs us that THIS has been released to the latest home entertainment audiovisual format.

I object.

Jess Franco films REQUIRE the cheese factor of VHS. An undeservedly underappreciated purveyor of awful film, he.

Delayed Uberstock Entry: SHAKE RATTLE AND ROCK

(This film was not shown, but was handed to me as I walked out of the driveway at 3am Sat. morn.)

What a totally hosed waste of time. Some critic once said that a studio head told him that he never worried about the cost of blockbusters: "It's that 20$ million dollar comedy that'll kill you". I guess the guy meant that one bleeds slowly over time - and at the hands of small blows like those dealt out by bombs like SHAKE RATTLE AND ROCK.

The idea was to rip off the ironic teen flick comment that John Waters barely pulled off with POLYESTER. The only interesting thing about it was the supporting players (like my fave Mary Woronov) but in general the production and acting was OK. The script killed this project. There's all kinds of veteran talent like Howie Mandel, Bill Schallert (the dad on Patty Duke), P.J. Soles as Evylin and a walkon by Paul Anka but nothing can pull this wheel out of the mud.

I watched most of it with the volume turned down and Miles Davis on the stereo.
Three out of four skull-and-crossbones.

Poison on Tour

Holy Shit!

Upcoming Movies

Mayor of the Sunset Strip - Angelika - Friday!

Bobby Jones Stroke of Genius - Everywhere - 4/30

Super Size Me - Angelika - 5/14

BAADASSSSS! - Angelika - 6/11

Napoleon Dynamite - ???? - 6/11

Garfield - Everywhere - 6/11

The Stepford Wives - Everywhere - 6/11

Thrillhouse goes broke at the movies - 6/11

Dodgeball - Everywhere - 6/18

Posted by Thrillhouse at 12:48 PM

Quiz Time ...

Eddie Van halen. I salute you! I bow before your
awsomeness

What famous guitar player are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Fight Club!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

(I have to contest the above!)

You're Soroity Slut Barbie! You're easy and you're
really cheesy! Have fun with the entire
football team.


If You Were A Barbie, Which Messed Up Version Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla

My inner child is ten years old!

The adult world is pretty irrelevant to me. Whether
I'm off on my bicycle (or pony) exploring, lost
in a good book, or giggling with my best
friend, I live in a world apart, one full of
adventure and wonder and other stuff adults
don't understand.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

Tramp Bear


Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

(the above one disturbs me a little bit)

Classic rock! Without you the other genres
wouldn't exist! You are the raw and original
sound of rock! Other genres may try to imitate
your rawness, but they can never be like you!


What genre of rock are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Party Animal: Saturday Night Version

After Friday night's affair, I had a bit more tension-filled affair set for Saturday night ... a birthday party for a friend. The setting: Front Porch Pub on West Gray. I was running a bit late as I had mentally placed this thing closer to the West Gray Cafe. This sent me in loops for a good 15 minutes before I opted to scan back towards Downtown for the place. I arrive with a somewhat nifty gift idea that I'd actually had in mind since having an incredibly long list of gift ideas since Christmas. With a little help from the sister of the birthday kid (granted, it was her 30th birthday), I had a little customization to make the gift a little niftier. So I was squared away on that front. What I was unsure of was the social setting. I arrive to notice a few acquaintences from hockey games, sit with them for a spell. When my food arrives, I note the table does not seem to offer enough elbow room to partake of this chow, so I opt to create my own scene at the table next to me. Immediately upon doing so, the hot blonde who was sitting there fled the scene. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt by that.

The tension source, you ask? Hard to explain, but I always feel like a 3rd wheel no matter what the setting with this friend in question. In this case, there were about 40-50 people in attendance, so that places me somewhere around the range of 51st wheel. I ended up with more convo with the sister than with the birthday girl. At some later point, some friends of the sister show up and add to my table of one rather quickly. This seems to keep me moored to my table for a little longer. I'd had two beers prior to their arrival, but once I started on the caffeine train, I get chided for every refill of coke I drink. Eventually, I order another beer just to shut them up. Punk ass kids today. They were downing pitchers of Coors Light as they gave me grief (I opted for Shiner Bock ... a real beer). Of all the nerve.

What's weird is that I'm not the biggest partygoing type, so one of my concerns - having something going on to occupy my interest and time - was miraculously covered by good fortune. Still, I think any time I got with the birthday girl was in the single digits worth of minutes, out of about 6 hours of holding court. Such is life. Summer is upon us, and without any given need to cross paths for the next 5 months, I suspect communication will dwindle accordingly. That's the thing with old flames ... eventually they die down. Now if a new one would just magically spring up, that'd be swell.

Movie Review: Napoleon Dynamite

This movie just rocks. If you disdain coming of age movies, this one should be the exception to the rule. Although the narrative plods along rather slowly at times, it never ceases to inject hilarity into the mundane life of one Napoleon Dynamite. With his older brother Kip attempting to fulfill his own life via internet chats with his long distance love: Lafawnduh ... an older uncle, Rico (hilariously inept at everything but peddling tupperware), who yearns to go back to his high school glory days to take his football team to state, as well as his high school friend Pedro, the entire cast is in search of their destiny. They each find that through missteps, their own destiny (and hence, happiness) is in their own hands.

The best role outside of Jon Heder-as-Napoleon, I award to Tina Majorino, who may yet have saved herself from being cast in Waterworld. Tina plays Deb, the awkward female participant in this movie. She immediately seems to come across as Nap's only shot at love, yet ends up going to the prom with Pedro, but then ends up with Nap. Make sense? Didn't think so. Catch the movie, though, and it will. Deidrich Bader (of Drew Carey fame) also has a hilarious role in the movie.

There's no big mysterious ending to give away. The uncle first tries to get a time machine from the internet to go back to 1982. After the obvious failure, he ends back in his isolated van-as-shelter in the Idaho plains greeting his ex wife at the end. The brother eventually gets his internet love to visit from Detroit, where we learn - not too surprisingly - that he has a case of jungle love. After being made over as a true Idaho gangsta, he ends the tale happier than he was before. Weird, but it fits the rest of the movie. Pedro ends up running for President of the student body against the popular blonde: Summer. In a shocker (courtesy of Napoleon ending with his own surprise), Pedro wins.

Box Office Prophets has the skinny on the wider release for this film this summer.

UberStock - A Summation

By way of overview, this latest installment of UberFests shows a little strain on the concept. With the design aimed at getting a slightly more movie-centric affair going, the effort can be easily qualified as a failure. The invite list was winnowed a bit, yet attendance was, for the most part, strikingly familiar to prior affairs. With a turnout of about 15-20, the actual number of attendees watching a movie at any given time hovered around 4-5. So, rather than a movie marathon, we had yet another party. First things first, though ... the movie recaps. Since I managed to last through all (well, most - explanation forthcoming) the selections, here goes:

Grease II - I've got to admit, this was not as bad as I had once thought. The opening musical number, as well as the bowling alley routine seemed rather catchy. Michelle Pfeiffer, naturally, is hot. The fact that the holdovers on cast from the original were scarce and among the lesser-known cast at that, is the obvious knock on the movie. Instead, the inferior plot should be. Max Caufield emerges from his British transfer student schtick to become the bad boy that Pfeiffer cannot recognize for the life of her when he's got the helmet and goggles on. Its like Superman, expect its crappier. Still, it ranks somewhere above Caddyshack II and Meatballs IV in terms of quality sequels.

Rock & Roll High School Forever - In keeping with the theme of high school era films, we get the Cory Feldman classic. I can't think of much to say good about this except as humor value. The scene in which Feldman & gang make their way to participate in a ritualistic celebration of a refrigerator ought to sum up the insanity of this flick. A close second might be Feldman outrunning a BMW on skateboard. Mary Waronov makes her appearance in this one as the deranged over-discipline-inducing principal, Dr. Vadar. Feldman's band tears it up with lame reworks of 50s & 60s tunes. After a bit of self-questioning, he gets a lecture by the spirit of rock & roll, unsuitably played by Mojo Nixon. Oh, just thought of it ... one good thing to say about the movie: the redhead teacher was pretty hot.

Sgt. Pepper - How bad could it get, you ask? Even the instigator of showing this flick decided to skip through half the songs, it was so bad. This movie should be permanently deleted from memory. I know Peter Frampton wishes it would.

Brady Bunch Variety Hour - The mystery DVD makes it emergence, and with Pete even managing to find it too intolerable, I declare myself the winner by finally unearthing the most objectionable viewing fare to be seen yet. Kinda hard to top a film with a goat sex scene, but damned if I didn't top that one! By concensus, I think it was clear that Cindy Brady had managed to pass up Marcia Brady on the hot scales by this 1977 release. Also, watching Greg Brady do disco moves in an Elvis suit was way beyond creepy.

The Apple - About halfway through this one, I think the moviegoing aspect of the party had pretty much dissolved into nothingness. Having taken in this film a bit too recently, I decided to switch gears when I found myself the only one watching it. I noticed among the flicks Uber had, was one I needed to set my eyes on for a bit: Varsity Blues. I opted to scan the credits to see if my favorite obscure actress (now a successful corporate attorney), Jessica Holcomb was listed. Her talent agency lists her in the movie, but my hunch is that she's an extra and I may have to give the movie closer inspection to find her. After popping out that DVD, a few of the non-moviegoing participants decide they want to watch Fight Club. WTF??? Not one musical number in there. At this point, I head outdoors to powwow with what usually are two other moviegoing types. At some point, we head back in and take in a few episodes of Family Guy. The party dissolves with people exiting a bit earlier than previous nights, and that's about all she wrote.

Where to from here?
One thing I suspect hampers UberFestivals from truly remaining as movie nights is not so much the attendance list, but also the setting. UberCasa is a fantastic place for movie nights, but it also is a fantastic place for parties. Rather difficult to limit activities without putting locks on doors, barricades, and so forth. There's also the subject of movies. Prior movie nights (pre-Uber) had the format of one feature flick and voting on a host of others. As the UberFestivals have evolved, we've gotten to picking a small roster of set movies with little room for improv (granted, we nixed Hedwig from this one). Would it make a difference if that were not the case, though? I'm doubtful.

That would seem to mean there are two potential paths to take for the concept to be successful:
- give in and let the party be a party
- winnow the invite list down even further ... like under 10, maybe even under 6 or so.

The first puts a bit more of an onus on the host to determine if he's up to the task of putting up with the continued insanity that such an event would lead to (more people fighting for the spare bedroom, more guests in attendance who reside on differing ends of the friendliness spectrum, eventually having someone raise enough of a rucus to get the cops out, etc ...) with the second option meaning a fair amount of otherwise welcome company might best be excluded. Remain status quo and what do you end up with? About 5 people who miss about 1/3 of the movie due to traffic headed to and from the back porch and about 10-15 people who wonder why they have to congregate outdoors in the lovely Houston summer weather for friendly convo.

Party Survival

The social event of the season that is Uberfest/stock/thon/epithetofthemoment is always a matter that taxes the endurance of the most stalwart of us. This last was no exeption. The programmed assaults on the refined sensibilities of a few of us included a musical Brady Bunch special from the late 70's which couldn't have been saved even by Maureen McCormick's butt. Fortunately, there were many nice girls in attendance to divert my attention, notably Mary and Claire. The cooking rocked, of course, and the patio's interesting feature of three pot plants with no plant (just dirt) argues for a few of my Mexican Kalanchoes to deposit next time (they require almost no maintenance).

Even now, I am engaged in self-medication toward an eventual recovery from the evening.

EXTRA!! Decent photo from ELLE magazine shoot located on McCormick's official site HERE. High-class sitcom pussy.

UberStock - The Preview

On tap for tonight ....

Hedwig & The Angry Inch (2001)

Hedwig, born a boy named Hansel in East Berlin, fell in love with an American G.I. and underwent a sex-change operation in order to marry him and flee to the West. Unfortunately, nothing worked out quite as it was supposed to - years later, Hedwig is leading her rock band on a tour of the U.S., telling her life story through a series of concerts at Bilgewater Inn seafood restaurants. Her tour dates coincide with those of arena-rock star Tommy Gnosis, a wide-eyed boy who once loved Hedwig... but then left with all her songs.

In short, this fits with the bulk of the UberStock crowd's Rocky Horror niche. Mediocre-to-crappy movie with a decent soundtrack. This one, at least, is updated enough to have pretty hard rocking tunage. Personally, I find the storyline too comedic in most spots ... perhaps that's what makes the dramatic parts of the story a bit difficult to accept.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978)

A small town band makes it big, but loses track of their roots, as they get caught up into the big-time machinations of the music biz. Now, they must thwart a plot to destroy their home town. Built around the music of the beatles, this musical uses some big name groups like Peter Frampton and Aerosmith.

Not many movies look as poorly compared to The Apple, but this one tries. Viewers may find it handy to bring graph paper to chart Peter Frampton's demise scene by scene in this film.

Rock & Roll High School Forever (1990)

Those rambunctious kids are back in school and back in trouble in a smash sequel to the 1978 worldwide hit. Corey Feldman leads a rock and roll rally at Ronald Reagon High, but must triumpth over the evil plans of the school's facist principal, Vadar (Mary Woronov), who wants to halt the shcool dance and run their sschoollike a prision.

Uber Festivals and the prior Movie Nights have brought the world a host of intolerable terrors: the ILSA trilogy & goat sex high among the list. Tonight, we bring the second worst thing imaginable: Cory Feldman!!! This also extends the Rock & Roll High School genre out with this official sequel. Roger Corman would be so ashamed.

Mystery DVD ... I'm not telling what this is, but I think it should be considered the single worst thing I could possibly add to the night. Its musical, its horrible, and you will likely die laughing ... hopefully before you've all turned against me. The agony should only take up about 50 minutes. All exits will be sealed during this feature & the spare bedroom will be off limits. One minor clue: Worse than AfterMASH!

UPDATE: Second Clue ... the number 50.

Other Movies I'm bringing in case we go into extended party time:
Dill Scallion - A countrified take on Spinal Tap? Yes, it happened. Although the concept may seem a bit formulaic, the movie is, itself, more than hilarious. Lauren Graham (Gilmore Girls) and Kathy Griffin (Suddenly Susan) make this one tolerable. The Fonz is even in this one, too!

The Apple - This one would be automatic if it were of acceptable quality. As it is, the DVD was shot without pan&scan, so there's a few scenes that look really silly (well, "sillier").

G3 - Live In Denver This may make a brief appearance if for no other reason than because its funny to laugh at a fat Yngwie Malmsteen hamming it up on stage with Steve Vai and Joe Satriani.

Shake, Rattle & Roll - Part Three of the Rock & Roll High School concept. In this one, we go back in time with a redheaded Renee Zellwegger playing the lead of a 50s band. The timing of this places Renee just after her appearance in The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and just before Empire Records. On the whole, the movie is pathetic (it was a made-for-TV variety), but it does complete the RNRHS genre for diehards, and it even has Mary Waronov in it, as well as the two female leads in the original: Dey Young and PJ Soles. Bit of irony that Mary Waronov comes off looking younger than the other two in this flick. The only saving grace for this movie is that Renee is absolutely adorable in it.

Now ... who's bringing Xanadu and From Justin To Kelly? I'd also like to suggest a few worthy entries from Uber's Simpsons DVD collection to play as interludes.

Kill Bill Vol. II

I was more primed for Kill Bill, Volume 2 than I realized. My energy level right as the movie began was keyed up, and I don't think I was the only one. I've never sat with such quiet, seemingly intense audience. The movie opens strong and continues that way throughout. The performances are amazing. I have to smile as I type things like "David Carradine's best performance" or "Uma Thurman's best performance," since I don' t remember either giving a good one before. Their scene together at the chapel is amazing, as is their later one when…but see for yourself.

This movie has action and humor, but not as much as the first part and, as a stand-alone feature, it really doesn't work for me. I'd like to see the whole thing together to see if this transition works, and makes for a richer work, when taken all at once. There are little problems. Thurman has an amazing escape that is too stylized to be believable. One of the things about the kung-fu sequences, and that great massacre in the Japanese club in the first part, was that no matter how outrageous they seemed, you saw it happening, and so could believe it. The problem here is not only with what you can't see, but what you can, which is clearly some sort of matte and digital effects work (and even the fact that the look seems intentional doesn't make me appreciate it anymore; this is also the only moment when the time-sequence element seems off; I knew the flashback to Lucy Liu's past, while the Bride sat in the back of the truck, took place in seconds, but I'm not sure how long the flashback here takes place and what that means for the greater personal extremity for Thurman when we return to present time). I also felt Darryl Hannah's character was still underused and unsatisfactory (I mean in terms of what she's given, not how Hannah plays her or the concept of the character, herself).

But overall, I really had a good time. I know of no other director who can get tension going as Tarantino does. Usually this is achieved in a movie with a lot of quick cuts (even between two characters talking) to get us on the edge of our seat. But he goes for long takes, and not much is happening superficially, but boy is a lot happening. There are a lot of great jokes, one great new character (and also one Kung-Fu parody character I have to admit didn't quite work for me, because of what he has to represent) and, personally satisfying to me, Tarantino gets something right about Superman that most current spin-offs of the comic, and maybe even the comic itself now, regularly get wrong.

It's a pretty amazing movie.

The Punisher

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

The Punisher begins with an action sequence, after which it fairly quickly gives us a shot of Thomas Jane's bulging arms and naked behind. I thought, something for everyone. But then his partner says to Jane (who is retiring), "Don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone," and is his best Alpha-Male voice, Jane replies sarcastically "Get a girlfriend." Okay, I sighed to myself, becoming a little unsure. A little later, the movie makes the point that a sadistic character has something wrong, something secret about him. And immediately provides the answer. He's gay. And the audience I saw it with got a kick out of that. So at this point, I decide the movie's homophobic, and I hate it. There are plenty of other reasons to dislike this pretty terrible movie, but that's the biggie, and I might as well put it at the front of my response.

Jane is indeed the Alpha-Male, rugged, generally reserved in emotions, intensely active, facing danger even just for fun after retirement. He has a blonde piece for a wife (and she is a piece, she's a cross between a Playboy bunny and Donna Reed; she has no soul, no real emotions, no depth), and a rugged li'l fellow of a young son. Stepford seems to have upped its production from wives to children, fathers and extended family. When the whole group was mowed down, I was more relieved than alarmed. It seemed a statement in favor of humanity.

Then Jane goes for revenge. He simplifies (he's a combat in war, right?). He moves into a ghetto apartment. There are two geeks who live next door, and they're made to seem really pathetic. One's fat, one has lots of pierces. I suppose they're meant, in their way, to be colorful eccentrics. But they were so bland and generic I figure Stepford is producing wacky neighbors now, too. And their total mealy-mouthed helplessness re-enforces Jane's Alpha-Maleness again.

There are some good bits in the movie. Some of the punishments are satiric and really enjoyable, and the combination of little acts of terrorism mixed with the slow mental destruction of John Travolta's villain (he gives a really, really bad performance, but I think this is intentional), is interesting. There are two genuinely moving moments. One, Jane's first conversation with his pretty female neighbor, and two, the pierced guys willingness to put up with torture for Jane followed by his comment "you're one of us, you're family."

But this movie is all about how there's One Man tough enough, smart enough, essentially man enough to take on the baddies, and he will for the sake of all those helpless women and weakling men out there. The last shot of the movie is unbelievably fatuous.

I know this is a comic book movie. I know it simplifies everything to fulfill a particular fantasy. But for me to accept what has been by and large left out (character, genuine humanity, any sense of reality) for what has been left in (machismo, soldier of fortune fantasy) I have to enjoy the fantasy it presents. I didn't enjoy it, and I don't recommend it to anyone.

Pappas Burgers

I couldn't possibly do a restaurant review with the expertise of our resident food specialist Uber, especially when the extent of my own cooking ability goes not much further than "pour Cheerios into bowl," but I want to pimp this burger joint I tried out last Saturday.

Jr. and I were looking for a lunch spot and it occured to me that I had a Pappas discount card courtesy of my brother. I guess I hadn't really thought about the burger place they have, since I've been to a couple of their other franchises and have not been impressed. The food has been OK, but usually ranges beyond my acceptable boundary of spicy. But I figured they ought to be able to keep a burger under control, so I'd give it a stab.

The set-up of this location (5815 Westheimer Rd) is somewhat akin to Fuddrucker's, though not as expansive. You order up at the counter, with the wrinkle that you then take the ticket with you to a table and a waitress brings the ticket to the kitchen. OK, not sure why the intermediate step is necessary, but whatever. Other difference is that the layout is more agreeable for checking out any of the number of TVs in the joint broadcasting whatever sports events are available. NBA playoff action makes Ulysses happy.

Service was adequate if disinterested. Refills were given, but not usually with a smile, and it was almost like the waitress was an extra from Westworld. Eh, whatever. I like a full glass, but don't really care whether I make an interpersonal connection with the help.

Jr. had the kids' cheese quesadillas, which she seemed to enjoy, but the cheese was a bit flaky and not as warm as she'd have preferred. The presentation was nothing special either, and they looked like the Spanish equivalent of a grilled cheese sandwich - which I suppose they are.

I had the cheeseburger and fries, figuring that ought to be what they're best at - and also because I am the most boring person alive. I can safely say that, despite one recurring flaw, the hamburger was the best I've ever had. Perfectly cooked, with just the proper splash of lettuce, mayo and cheese that I requested, and the meat was in fact a tad more flavorful than I'd expected. Not spicy per se, but jazzed up a shade more than I'd have figured I liked. It worked for me. The one complaint I have is that the burger was sprinkled in a few spots with those odd, tiny non-edible grains you occasionally get with ground beef. I don't know why they were more prevalent here than at other places, but they did instill a slight hesitancy with each progressive bite as I'd assumed the early couple to be an anomaly. Apparently not. I'll leave it to the food experts to explain what those are and what can be done to minimize their presence. Is it that Pappa's uses cheap beef? If so, they do more with it than anyone else I know, because that burger was still damn good.

Fries were thin and very salty - which is how I like 'em. Had an almost shoestring potato feel to them, and I really couldn't load up on them as that burger really did fill me up. No question that the portions are adequate.

The price is probably just a notch higher than Fuddrucker's, but probably worth it if you take your hamburger-eating seriously. I ended up holding on to my discount card figuring that, since I had the cash now, I'd save the card for a day when I'm low on funds but want more than the usual $.79 taco.

This place has definitely moved into the rotation of the half-dozen places that the kid and I will frequent. We're not much for trying new things, but every now and then a hunch pays off. Certainly that is the case here.

More reviews of Pappas Burgers

WorldFest - Take Two

Thursday:
3pm - Miss Castaway
7:15pm - The Delicate Art of Parking

What's your vote?

CNN's coverage of nomination for "Worst Song Ever Written"

What a Waste of a Perfectly Fine Day ...

So there we were, 3 members of this very site sitting on 6 free tickets to take in a screening of Badasss! at River Oaks Theater. In anticipation of a rather entertaining movie experience, I try to round up as many extras as possible. In chatting with Assclown #1, I get an email notifying me that Assclown #2 is bailing out due to work. Assclown #1 has to debate between the movie and gym. I send an invite out to one of the so-called normal people I know. She informs me her decision, too, is between gym and movie. (I suddenly feel like such a sloth) Later that same day, Assclown #3 opts out due to illness. That translates into a potential of 6 attendees down to a likely lone viewer ... me.

At this point, I head out to the theater almost out of defiance. I should have taken the dropouts as an ominous sign. I plot my mass transit strategy to make it to the theater by 7, noting that it'll be a tight squeeze no matter which route I take. After missing a connecting bus by a mere half minute, I note that this day has simply gone to hell in a handbasket. I head home dejected ... not so much at missing a free movie, but in knowing that fate had dealt me a knee to the groin. I debate between heading straight home and just catching up on sleep, or grabbing a bite to eat somewhere in the Galleria area. Dinner won out. My previous defeat at the hands of time make the overpriced dining on mediocre Italian fare a bit inconsequential.

During this eternity of hell, I miss one call from a non-moviegoing friend. Kinda bummed as I don't get to talk to her enough. I call back, no answer. Again ... nothing goes right on this day. Later on, I notice that, once more, I've missed a call (what is it with this crappy phone???). I call back. Alas ... contact. Maybe this conversation will have something to lift my spirits with. I suppose it will have to qualify that I've now been enlisted as backup tech support for a website of administrative professionals. Seems the woman on the other end of the phone didn't want to take on webmaster duties without knowing I'd be available to help out if she got in a jam.

Combine that with the fact that I've officially made the day, week, and month of a reality TV show contestant by building a fan site for her, and I suppose the day isn't a total waste. Moral of the story? Take what you can get, I suppose. Life is a neverending mix of good and bad. Deal with it.

SIDENOTE: I even managed to miss The Darkness on Leno last night. Fear not ... they are on Jimmy Kimmell tonight.

TV Updates ...

Tonight - The Darkness on Leno!
... Rock On ...

Wednesday - The Bachelor on ABC (8pm Central)
... rumors abound about my own beloved Jessica H ... Oh, and the chick now has her very own fan site. I wonder how that happened.

WorldFest Review: Anastasya Slutskaya

Before I give the review of Sunday's film, let's go back to Saturday. I was supposed to take in "What the Bleep Do We Know" with Uber, but manage to sleep late enough to hit the road a bit later than intended ... oh, and also to end up at the wrong location with not enough time to get to the correct place. Sucks, don't it.

So Sunday would have to serve as my WorldFest lead-in. Anastasya Slutskaya is the story of the woman who fended off a Tartar invasion of modern-day Belarus. Having previously seen an historical epic at WorldFest last year, this one has a bit too good of a point of comparison. As such, this doesn't quite match "Chopin, Desire of Love." The acting is a bit too empty, the storyline is a bit too bland. The movie, it seems, is not quite as good as the story itself. Chopin (I felt) had the opposite effect, which is a good combination.

Two things this movie did have going for it were the lead actress (IMDB fails on this movie) and a few scenic shots of the Russian woods. The movie did also give a good portrayal of the cultural differences that coexisted between the Christian rulers and pagans who lived in the woods.

The highlight of the entire film's action is in the ending, which I only spoil as the film will not be in wide release (as few Russian films are). Basically, you see at the beginning, that the princess (Anistasiya) is taking lessons from an assistant on how to throw a knife. She's failing miserably while the helper is noting that this may save her life some day. A bit forced, naturally. And you know right there how the movie ends.

Cut to the big showdown at the end, and Anistasiya (now the queen) decides to take battle into her own hand as the battle looks bleak. She exchanges swords with the Tartar leader, she loses, gets kicked off her horse, and then is told to become a concubine. She faces her own dejected troops, reaches to her side, pulls a knife, turns, and the next thing you see is a grisly knife through the eye.

Nice, huh?

With that, you get a feel-good ending as the queen's ex-husband and pagan lover are both dead. The narrator leaves us with the story that followed the battle, and you leave the theater uplifted.

If only it weren't such a boring movie ...

Next up .... Miss Castaway!

Return Fire: My Timeshare Story

Well folks, now that I'm back to being a swinging bachelor, I've found that my free time has increased dramatically. With that being said, I have also found that I want to fill as many of my hours as possible with activities. Last week, on one of my trips back from picking up my mail, I found salvation from boredom in the form of a little blue postcard. This postcard told me that I was a winner, and that fabulous prizes would be mine. Well, my untrusting nature came to the forefront as I reread this postcard. Surely these people wouldn't give away a prize such as airfare and hotel accommodations at Las Vegas? I looked at the return address, and discovered my mysterious benefactors: The Awards Verification Center. Something in the back of my mind started shouting at my consciousness, as I had heard that name before. Thinking it over, I realized that I had received several phone messages from these people in the past, and had merely blown off the messages as tripe. But as I said before, I am now trying to fill the hours, so I decided to take a little trip down the rabbit hole.

The first stop was a virtual one, as I decided to call the number listed on the postcard to discover the true identity of my benefactor and to "make an appointment", as the card requested. After a little cajoling, I was able to discover that the true head of this operation was an outfit called Silver Lake Resorts. Yes, my friends, a timeshare corporation. And in exchange for giving me these fabulous prizes, they wanted only 90 minutes of my time to come to Lake Conroe and see what a splendid resort they operate. Upon contemplating my options (sleeping in versus going there and boggling total strangers), I decided that a trip to Conroe was probably a good idea. After all, maybe this would stop the messages on my answering machine.

The first thing I noticed when arriving at the timeshare tour site was the target demographic for this crew. By looking at the parking lot, you could see a lot of middle-class families going into the reception center. I was the only single person in attendance that morning. Well, if I was to go into the lion's den, I figured I'd better get my game face on. Fortunately, I had recently cut off all my hair, and was sporting a pair of menacing new sunglasses thanks to my vision insurance. My first decision was that I would not remove the sunglasses through the entire encounter. These people would not get a chance to blind me with their pictures of dazzling lakes and scenic mountain country. Besides which, I could care less about that crap.

Upon filling out my demographic profile, I then awaited the arrival of my own personal tour guide. I wasn't kept waiting for long, as the receptionists started getting a little jittery when I stood up, walked over to the magazine rack, and picked up a dog-eared copy of "Woman's Day". With a flourish, I flipped through the pages, ensuring that the cover of the magazine was visible to the reception area at all times. When a sharply dressed young man named Jason appeared and called my name, I started to take the magazine with me. However, this was just a ruse as I set it down right in front of him when he offered me a handshake. I limp-wristed the handshake just to make him wonder, and when he asked how I was I proclaimed in a soaring falsetto "FABULOUS!" I'm not sure, but I think this was the point at which Jason began questioning his career path.

First of all, Jason sat me down in a giant room filled with rustic-looking tables to get a better handle on my vacation plans. I informed Jason that I don't currently vacation, but that I was planning a vacation to Russia in the year 2007 and a trip to Vancouver in the near future to visit their "coffee houses". He was shocked to learn that my total budget for those two trips was only $1000. He asked me how I planned to pull that off, and I informed him of the time honored tradition that my family has of flying to other cities to panhandle. Needless to say, he was not amused. A few more inane questions and we were out the door to start the tour.

Our first stop put us at a cabin, which was fairly nice. Of course, the model is always going to be nice, so I wasn't swayed by the looks of the joint. I refused to even acknowledge the presence of any of the amenities, instead choosing to lay on the bed for a good minute and a half. I don't think Jason really liked it when I rumpled the sheets up and curled up with one of the pillows, but he bit his tongue like a good trooper. He moved on to show me the stables, where I told him that I wasn't allowed around horses anymore since "the incident". He started to inquire what incident I was talking about, but a round of head twitching discouraged any more conversation on that topic.

We then moved on to see the lodge accommodations, which were a little nicer than a cabin. When looking in the bathroom, I noticed that the bathtub was filled with nearly fluorescent blue-tinted water. I demanded to know what was wrong with the water, and if there was a toxic landfill nearby. Jason tried to assure me that the coloring was merely for effect in demonstrating the whirlpool bath, at which point I told him that nobody wants to picture themselves bathing in fallout water, and that he would do well to drain that stuff immediately and replace it with fresh water. After he chose to ignore my suggestions, I demanded that we leave the lodge accommodations immediately to move on in our tour.

Our next stop was at the trading post, which was the resort's snack bar and activities center. Jason asked me at this point what activities I liked to do, listing some of the amenities of the center. I told him I really enjoyed gambling and hookers. He didn't quite catch that last part, so I inquired which one of the accommodations included it's own hooker. Jason insisted that the resort was a family-oriented place, so I asked him how he liked discriminating against single people for a living. That seemed to infuriate him a bit, and shut him up for a good 3 minutes. It was the best 3 minutes of the tour.

Our final stop was a tour of the new presidential accommodations, which were 2 bedroom waterfront condos. It was here that I decided to make one of my final moves, asking for a moment when our little journey reached the bathroom. I relieved myself of the Sonic breakfast burrito I had consumed on the way up, making sure to turn on the fan just before the next tour arrived. I wonder if they asked their tour guide about the smell.

Jason hurried me back to our starting point, at which point he ran through some numbers telling me why buying into this timeshare was the only smart move I could make and that I'd be throwing my money away if I vacationed elsewhere. At this point I started on a little story about how I grew up on a lake isolated from everyone else I knew, and that the thought of being on a lake for a week made my skin crawl. He then informed me that they also have sister resorts in other locations which you could stay at with your purchased week. I asked him where the coolest place was that they had a resort, and he responded "Branson, MO". I laughed at this for a good 30 seconds.

About halfway through the sales pitch, I noticed a very lovely brunette sales representative sit down a few tables away from us. While Jason was blathering on about the virtues of the timeshare, I just stared unabashedly at this beauty. Eventually Jason followed my gaze and started trailing off, as he realized I wasn't paying the slightest attention to him. Once he stopped for a breath, I turned back to him and said "You know, I really wish she had taken me on the tour and not you". After saying no to his sales pitch a few times, Jason went and invited his manager, Dan, over to talk with me. Dan asked me why I didn't want to buy, and tried to guilt me into buying. He tried the tactic of pointing out all the fabulous gifts I was going to receive, reiterated the points that Jason tried to make earlier, and even offered me a discounted plan. Again, I said no about a thousand times. Dan followed up with his district manager, who oh-so-conveniently was visiting that day. The district manager gave me yet another discounted sales pitch, at which point I told him "Look buddy, you're trying to sell ice to an Eskimo. But I'm not leaving here without my free trinkets. So you can either move me on to gifting, or I will start taking off clothes." Sizing me up, he decided that seeing me strip would not be a good start to his day, and he sent me on my way to gifting.

In gifting, I got my Vegas trip and exotic island getaway vouchers without incident. Of course I didn't win the Hummer or $40,000. Maybe I'll send the vouchers in (the Vegas trip requires that you send in money to get the actual airline tickets and hotel accommodations), maybe I won't. But one thing is for certain: that timeshare in Conroe will never forget the day they invited me to visit.

Saturday Night

Agenda for Saturday:

10am: plot to take over the world
3pm: "What The #$%*& Do We Know?" - Meyerland 16 (Worldfest)
7pm: Houston Aeros v Cincinnati Mighty Ducks - Game 2
12am: Rocky Horror

... and Uber has something else lined up for Saturday before joinging me at Worldfest.

FINALLY:

NEWS WE CAN USE

Parental Responsibility

ClearPlay DVD Players Filter Content

I cannot wait until the day when the parents of this world realize that technology alone cannot raise a child. You may think I'm a breeder hater, but that is not true at all. I dislike the people who choose to take a hands off role in raising their child and would instead allow another to censor what parts of a movie their child gets to watch. Let me make this very clear...if the movie isn't one you want your child to see, then don't let them see it. Stupid technology.

PS: I want to drop a porno into one of these puppies and see it explode.

Avril Lavigne - The Next Tiffany?

Avril Lavigne set to sing at Katy Mills Mall

WTF????

Avril Lavigne's shopping mall concert tour took her to a parking lot in Burnaby, British Columbia, earlier this month. This week, she visits Texas fans, and her set Thursday will preview tracks from new album Under My Skin, due in stores May 25.

Shhhhh, don't tell anybody, but pop rock girl Avril Lavigne is going to be at the Katy Mills Mall on Thursday.

Oh well, the cat's out of the bag now.

Lavigne visits Katy at 4:30 p.m. Thursday on a stage near the mall food court for a concert that is part of her 21-city Top Secret (wink, wink) Mall tour. Her set will preview tracks from new album Under My Skin, due in stores May 25.

WorldFest

Just a warning to all interested parties ... Houston's WorldFest movie festival starts this weekend.

Best bet for starting it off is Saturday's 3pm showing of "What The #$%*& Do We Know?" ...

Amanda, a divorced photographer, has a mundane life until like Alice-in Wonderland, she is led by a Greek Chorus of leading scientists and mystics, to experience the exciting reality of modern-day cellular, molecular and quantum paradigms.

Sunday's "Anastasia Slutskaya" (7:15) is among my Must Catch pics ...

When the Tartars invaded Russia in the 16th Century, only one principality, the city-state of Slutskaya (present day Belarus) resisted the assaults and their beautiful warrior-princess, Anastasia, a devout Christian, courageously led her people to victory.

Thursday is worth taking a vacation/sick day ... "Miss CastAway" (3pm)

In the comedic over-the-top style of "Airplane", this is a spoof based on today's biggest hit films as a planeload of beauty contestants crash land on a deserted island and discover Noah's ark (hijacked by a gang of apes) but agent "MJ" is near to rescue the castaways off the island.

The official closing movie is another excellent choice, as well - "Napoleon Dynamite" ...

One of Preston, Idaho's most curious residents, young Napoleon Dynamite, alters his eccentric daily life in order to help his best friend become class president.

Several great selections of shorts showing throughout also ... this needs to be invaded by numerous Assclowns, if you ask me.

The Darkness - The Beginning (Second Take)

Nothing in the world is as good as a great band that sparks as much range of opinion as The Darkness. Are they for real? Will they get away with writing odes to crack addiction for much longer? How soon before they regret the pink jumpsuit? ... or before the bass player realizes he's the long lost descendant of a Village Person? ... or before Malcolm Young of AC/DC sues the guitar player for copyright infringement? And yet, if imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, then there should be a wide range of bands from the 70s and 80s that should consider themselves flattered. The Darkness firmly plants both its feet in the prime of the rock star era, with guitarist/lead singer Justin Hawkins decidedly (and convincingly) playing the role of bonafide rock star.

For a band making their first US tour, this was a big moment for the band. With millions of records sold, tours like this are a big deal. Make a great impression, and people come back after buying the second CD. Stink up the joint, and all bets are off. An easy conclusion after Sunday's show was that The Darkness did not disappoint.

One noteworthy point where the band is due enormous credit: taking The Wildhearts on tour with them. The Wildhearts began their own journey to stardom in 1989, right on the cusp of the Third Wave of heavy metal. Problem being, they were from England, didn't have the best US connections in the world, and never seemed to take off while bands like Skid Row and Guns & Roses dominated the age (as did Metallica, but their initiation began far before 1989). By the time that time might have been on the side of lead singer Ginger & The Wildhearts, a funny thing had happened: Curt Cobain. The Wildhearts would be relegated to cult favorites. Time may have passed them by, but as their performance Sunday indicated, they have not succumbed to it just yet.

Of all the bands I have seen open a show with such little prior knowledge of, The Wildhearts now rank as the band that has made the most favorable impression. From the get-go, they rocked. Imagine a combination of heavy rhythm guitar work (pick a Third Wave band and you get the picture) done behind Ginger's own grungy (but tastefully so) vocals and a (dare I say) Beatle-esque harmonization around him by fellow Wildhearts. As a fan of bands who incorporate a lot of vocal harmonies, this not only was right up my alley, but it also bowled a perfect strike. Not the biggest coincidence that Ginger donned a Cheap Trick t-shirt, I suppose. Sadly, investigation of this bands' work for sale has led me to believe that they are overdue for some serious US distribution re-releases. Best impression of the night was the single most Beatle-esque ripoff: "Beautiful Thing You." To date, the only CD I can locate with this song is an imported "Best Of" variety that runs over $50 on Amazon. If I may be so bold, the song itself may be worth it.

One point worth noting about the fans in attendance at this point ... much more slanted towards the young then I would have guessed. With two distinct submarkets to pool from, The Darkness attract people my age: over 30, metal fans who long for loud crunchy guitars and aren't afraid of a little glam here and there, as well as under 20, predominantly female, who find Justin Hawkins dreamy and the songs themselves campy. My hunch was that turnout might be about 60-40 in favor of the kids. Try 90-10, by my guess. Although this is a great indicator for the band, I was a bit disappointed on at least one count: there were a few impolite things said about The Wildhearts among a few impatient to see The Darkness. Merely speculation no my part that its due to a lack of appreciation for how The Wildhearts paved a small part of the way for The Darkness ... but that's the way it rubbed me.

As for the main attraction ... The Darkness:

First tours are a bit tough since there's limited amount of music that people are familiar with. The band has one thing going its way, in that the entire album rocks. Given that, the fans were literally and figuratively bouncing to many of the discs' tunes, not just the radio hits. This is item number one in how The Darkness may not fall into the same trap that snared such bands as Blink 182, Lit, and a host of other one-release wonders to peak and flame out in one song.

That's not to say a follow up success to the release of "Permission to Land" is a given, but the band has advantages all over the map. One more advantage for this band is the lack of competition in their own little sub-genre of "not-too-serious glam rock" (as opposed to those glam bands that DO take themselves too seriously?). Once you've established that pre-pubescent teenagers will pick up the CD at Wal Mart and jam out to a song about genital herpes, you've pretty much carved out a niche that few can match, I would argue.

I believe its easy enough to claim this as the concert of the year: a band at the dawn of potential greatness making its first swing through the States, catching them at this stage is always a great musical moment. First impressions like this don't happen very often. I would also add that its time to debate whether or not this show represents the concert of the decade, nevermind that we've got several more years to see another "next big thing" head down the pike. I conclude that if this show was not the concert of the decade, then the only band that CAN top The Darkness in concert is ... The Darkness, themselves. If the band follows up this release with one that matches or tops this one, hits the concert trail in places that either fill the 8-12,000 pavilion circuit, or better yet, the 15,000+ arena circuit (you just know they're born to play these places), then I can see the band topping themselves. But I cannot see another band topping The Darkness for a while.

Want reasons?

Its long been a contention of mine, and I think a properly held one, that any band that can adequately mix great, catchy tunes with incredible showmanship will own an audience for a long time to come. Many bands can get one of those two things down. Me First & the Gimme Gimmes, for instance, have a similar niche to The Darkness in that they are a kitschy off-the-wall band, not taking themselves seriously - but they do nothing but cover older tunes with a punk backdrop, and the live performances, although entertaining, are not particularly such that they captivate an audience from start to finish. Pick any of the nu-metal or post-punk bands out today, and you're likely to hear cool tunes played by mediocre showmen. For reasons I've yet to deduce, showmanship just seems like a lost art on the musical stage. Is it so difficult to review the history of Elvis Presley, Robert Plant, Jim Morrisson, David Lee Roth, Freddie Mercury, or Steven Tyler? The examples are there ... why is nobody taking notes? Obviously Justin Hawkins took notes ... and damn well. It shows, and it also pays off.

The songs from The Darkness are definitely catchy and memorable, loaded with double entendres atop more double entendres. The musical talent of the band is clearly not the draw, but that's never been a prerequisite for rock & roll. It also likely aids the band in that with a modicum of talent combined with a lack of seriousness in the music, any other combination might not work for the band over the long run. How many technically amazing guitar players would be content to perform songs about badmitton and needlepoint? Could a Steve Vai play "Givin' Up" for a decade were he a member of The Darkness? I think not. This isn't to say the band is not a tight-knit team, however. While I appreciate the long lost art of the guitar solo making a return, I'm also not taking copious mental notes as to how Justin Hawkins managed to sweep any arpeggios, since he doesn't.

Yet, still ... there's a certain amount of vindication for a guy like me at a show like this. When Justin Hawkins places the pick in his mouth to engage in a little two-hand tapping on the guitar, the crowd goes nuts, for instance. See, I knew people liked that sort of thing. Bands just overdid it for a while, the practice got to be a technical artform ... hell, I have the lessons published by Steve Lynch of 80s band Autograph with drills to make anyone 100 times better than Eddie Van Halen himself at this. By the time White Lion's Vito Brata and Frank Zappa's Steve Vai perfected the technique, there was nothing left to accomplish, however. So it was off to hibernation for any new acts to incorporate this to the profusely insane degree of guitar players past. But what made it cool was the distinct sound of riffs done just right with the technique. Not that Justin Hawkin's two or three moments with this really floored any guitar players, but it fit the song, it looked cool, and the chicks dug it. With that, the word of the day was, and still is: vindication.

The Darkness may not quite make a complete revival of arena rock. Rather, one can even view them as a follower on the trend towards reaching back to the 70s. Bands like Jet & The Datsuns have already knocked on the door. But The Darkness have nuked the door. Indeed, nothing stands left of the house that the door once guarded. I think there are elements of the band that will get copied ... the informality that the band represents if begging for copycats. The biggest aspect of the band, however, that I think may well be a welcome revival: that of the rock star. Make no mistake about it ... you will soon get sick and tired of seeing Justin Hawkins' buck toothed smirk on the posters that your daughter or younger sister slaps on her wall. But it is precisely the fact that Hawkins' hammy prancing on stage (and in videos) warrants him a stardom that others will be envious of and seek to claim themselves. Whether or not the musical revival of 70s guitar continues, or even evolves to the point where we see a brief reprisal of 80s guitar work remains to be seen. I share a skepticism that the pendulum will swing that much. But you never know. I mean, had I described a band like The Darkness five years ago to you, would you have taken it seriously? Now, like it or not, you have to take this not-so-serious band all-too-seriously.

Back to the show, now ...

Was there a full moon out? I attend the show with friends: two fellow CCBers. Rarely, well ... never, am I to be considered the most suave or cool among the bunch. And under no set of circumstances am I to be mistaken for a chick magnet. Our trio congregates, we spot two very young women in front of us. They are joined by a not-quite-as-young female who has brought food (pretzel & cheese) and a frozen drink (a slushee). I place this woman in the 19-25 age range, clearly out of my league, but somewhere in the vicinity of Ulysses, who I had pegged for quickly pouncing on this opportunity. His witty winning comment to end the conversation? "What, were they out of funnel cake?" I am floored at this. I have taken copious notes as to this man's way with women, hoping for one mere lesson to sink into my jaded, thick skull (I'm sure this hasn't happened, though). Its like seeing Elvis at sound check (circa 1950-something), completely off key, looking like crap. You're entire worldview changes immediately. Uber follows this up by introducing himself somewhat politely, then adding "I'm an asshole." At this point, I am the coolest guy among the three, by sheer default. Worth noting that events of the next paragraph will indicate why I lost attention in this chick, but I do take consolation in the fact that I got to know her rather well when she ended up in front of me during the show. Standing room only has its advantages, ya know. But to think ... I never got her name.

But then the Beaumont Beauties enter the scene: Jessica & Cissy. I think it was Uber who noticed one or both of them smelling me. Typically, this shouldn't be taken as a good sign ... but for some reason, it was on Sunday. Damn good thing I showered and used deodorant. I zero in on Jessica as the woman's incredible looks, quick wit, and laughter more than make up for the wedding ring (and the son daughter she would later reference). She claims she's hot, tugs at her blouse, and somehow I lift my jaw off the floor in time to agree with her that she is, indeed, very hot. This earns me brownie points to some degree, I think. I must make a note of this before Alzheimers sinks in and leads me to forget my winning methods. Jessica introduces us to her friend Cissy. I will argue that Cissy is pretty much a dead ringer for a young Cameron Diaz. The word "hot" is too cold to descibe her. I leave this terrain for Ulysses, as this is the league he's more apt to compete in. He notes that Cissy was the character's name in the movie "Urban Cowboy." Somewhere between the 5th and 12th reference to this, I think the night was over for Ulysses ... the point clearly was not impressed upon Cissy in a manner that would lead to success on Uly's part. Uber, once more makes introductions with "I'm an asshole." Given that my own limits on charm would have placed me at a decided disadvantage with Jessica, this was an unmitigated disaster of a turnover on Uber's part. With this, Jessica was mine, and Cissy was an all-too-welcome third wheel ... at least until they managed to accomplish their objective, which was to get in front of us (courtesy of me ... who else?) and then flirt with whoever was in front of them to work their way to the front row. Not surprisingly, it worked for them. Yet I still have this desire to move to Beaumont and go door-to-door in search of these two.

The events of the previous paragraph may well play a small role in my designation of this show as the concert of the decade. But the show itself warrants consideration as concert of the year on its own merits. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to review the phone book for Beaumont to locate a Jessica and Cissy. Oh ... and The Darkness ROCK!!!!

ADD ON: The Chron's review is up. A bit cynical, but still touches on enough of the positives.

The Darkness ... First Take

Head is still swirling from the show last night. I'll give a quick take here in noting that the show is easily the concert event of the year. "... of the Decade" is debatable, and I will be making the point later on that this show qualified as such. I'll also explain why I am now compelled to pick up the phone and call every woman from Beaumont in hopes of finding the two hotties I spent a substantial amount of time getting to know throughout the night. If I'm in an elaborative mood, I may well describe how, for one brief night, I became the mack daddy of all assclowns. Of course, now that my time has passed, I may be too bitter to get into that one. More tomorrow ... after I properly sleep this one off.

Bonus note: The Wildhearts were a MOST excellent surprise. I will be stocking up on their material after payday.

So nice to have a CHOICE

OK, I think all the links on this page are real. It lists a bunch (if not all) of the political parties currently active at least on some US ballots, if not nationwide. Apparently even the old Peace And Freedom party (on which Eldridge Cleaver ran for President) is still active to some degree...

I'm annoyed that the YIP isn't mentioned. Comments? (somehow I doubt it)

Mail Order Brides ... er, Wild Animals ... whatever

What In The Holy Hell?!?!?!?!?

Adopt a hedgehog??? ... a badger??? ... a kestrel??? ... a duck??? ... a bird of prey???

Ok, so that last one might come in handy. Now don't piss me off because quite frankly, the 18.75 pounds this place is charging for (potentially) a peregrine falcon seems like QUITE the steal. Question, though ... do they ship it or just tell the bird to start heading my way?

I Shit You Not ...

Start your own hip hop label.

Mood: befuddlement

The Bachelor

S.A. Lawyer Makes First Cut In 'The Bachelor'

I'll admit that I'm confounded as to why I enjoyed watching "The Bachelor" as much as I did last night. There's no reason for enjoying watching a rich, professional athlete get his pick of 25 beautiful women. The rich, indeed, get richer. It's just not fair ... and yes, I realize life isn't fair. But still ... this is just rubbing my nose in the matter.

Yet, there I was ... mesmerized. I think the reason is that it's not that great of a leap of faith among us men to think we might have a shot at (or at least enjoy pretending we have a shot at) women such as the 25 that were trotted out from a limo last night on TV.

In true irrational male fashion, I think I've got a favorite, too ... Jessica D from San Antonio. Sadly, it doesn't look like she made that great of a first impression on NY Giants QB Jesse Palmer, but I'm absolutely smitten with this chick. Texas is well represented in the episode, with an incredibly attractive Houstonian and a hottie from Austin adding to the mix. The Houstonian does not make the cut after night one ... the Austinite does. A bit surprisingly, Jessica survives the televised faux pax of mocking Jesse's college mascot from the University of Florida and lives to fight another day. Wise move on the part of our QB, although I'm further confused as to why I'm not cheering for Jessica to be dumped back into the real world for the rest of us to fight over her.

Reasons for this attraction on my part? Jessica is the only one to NOT take herslef too seriously. She's a bit too giggly, a bit insecure, but also a few bits good natured about the whole reality setup and the humor that goes along with the giggliness is a major feature ... well, that and her natural good looks, obviously. I'll admit, though ... I don't see how this chick passes the state bar to become a lawyer, but I'm not asking too many questions about that. Do I care, though?

Gimme a "D" ... Gimme an "arkness"

SUNDAY ... SUNDAY ... SUNDAY ....

Embrace the Darkness

Put me down as being in Camp Night ...

Picture, if you will, a young man in a zebra-striped unitard. Now imagine him tweaking a ridiculous guitar solo while straddling monitors at the front of the stage. The music coming out of the Marshall stacks sounds like Foreigner's "Juke Box Hero," only the bastard son of Klaus Nomi and Tiny Tim (you pick which one's the mother) has taken over on vocals. Breathe deeply. Now imagine this: A stadium full of people is going apeshit for it.

In a musical era dominated by self-important artistes, the Darkness has grabbed rock and roll by its shoulders and given it a swift snakeskin-booted kick in the arse. Camp Night loves this. They're tired of hip-hop, saddened by emo and disgusted by Nickelback (read: contemporary rock radio). The Darkness harks back to the bands its members loved: Thin Lizzy, Queen, AC/DC. They look and act the way rockers should. They're funny, cocky and loud -- David Lee Roths with funny accents, crooked teeth and amusing hair.

Tim Murrah is a counselor at Camp Night. Long a persistent and vocal supporter of all things Union Jack, the former Metropol and Stuka manager was on the Darkness train before it turned into a bandwagon. To him, the Darkness "represents something that's been missing from American rock," he says. "They walk it like they talk it. Sure, you might look at them at first and say, 'This has got to be a joke,' but if you listen to it, it's great. It's good-time music, man."

Dave Grohl agrees. "Show of hands: Who here misses the days of extended guitar solos, striped leotards, falsetto vocals and songs demanding, 'Get your hands off my woman'? Yeah, me too," he wrote in a guest column in The New York Times. "I'll take the Darkness over those whiny emo bands any day. At least they're getting chicks."

Above all else, setting aside the hype and the band's image and actually listening to the Darkness seems to be the key to liking them. Frankie Poullain, who plays bass for the band, quite naturally agrees: "I don't want to sound inflated or too self-important, but at the end of the day, we've made a really good record. I think it speaks for itself. Generally Americans like rock. Well, we've got ten rockin' tunes on the record. We put on a rockin' live show. I think if people buy the album and come see the show, all this talk of being a joke band will subside."

One can't help but think he's right. After all, the Darkness has already gone through this rigmarole in their home country. America is a bigger piece of the same puzzle. "We've been breakin' all the rules, and we'll continue to break all the rules," Poullain says of the naysayers' objections, and when he says it you can't help but think they'll be breaking down the walls of Camp Day pretty soon, too. 'Cause a lot of people firmly believe his band rules.

Also worth reading ...
The Darkness plays glam rock to the hilt
This Isn't Spinal Tap
The Darkness's talent is no joke
BRIAN MAY: JUSTIN HAWKINS Will Not Be Singing For QUEEN

ADD-ON ... opening band is The Wildhearts, apparently. This is a bonus treat.

It's Showtime!

INIFINITE RECORDS presents BIG SPRINGTIME RECORD, CD & DVD SHOW!

HOUSTON
Sunday, APRIL 18
HILTON HOTEL
6780 Southwest Freeway
(exit Hillcroft)
Open 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Admission $3.00. Kids free.

Oy!

The meme that would... not.... DIE!!!!

Upcoming Midnight Movies

Finally, Landmark Theaters has released their upcoming Midnight Movie schedule. The movies are branching more and more, but there are still some choice tidbits here:

Sean Connery is James Bond in Goldfinger - Apr 9 & 10
Brad Pitt & Bruce Willis in 12 Monkeys - Apr 16 & 17
FiLM Club Pick! Steve Martin is The Jerk - Apr 23 & 24
Dare to dream! The City of Lost Children - Apr 30 & May 1
'Weird Al' Yankovic in UHF - May 7 & 8
FiLM Club Pick! Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge! - May 14 & 15
John Cameron Mitchell's Hedwig and the Angry Inch - May 21 & 22 (Live performance by Fitzgerald's Hedwig cast on Friday, May 21!)
New 35mm print of the 1980 cult musical! Forbidden Zone - May 28 & 29

Best Putdown Ever?

Anger and Marshall, Tearing It Up at the Fringes

The most immediate element of any Anger-Marshall show is the pair's skilled musicianship, and Sunday was no different. Anger's fiddle playing segued from Civil War reels to percussive world-music burps seamlessly, while Marshall's command of mandolin and guitar was eyepopping. But, as anyone who has tried to sit through an Yngwie Malmsteen album knows, virtuosity for its own sake gets old quick.

Ouch!

You think...

politics has gotten odd around HERE? Let's take a stroll down memory lane, kiddies... certain folks elsewhere are um, carrying on the tradition?

DON'T CLICK HERE.

Edit: I GOT THE BUG. Time for the yearly AUTO SHOW!!!!!!!!! I'll probably do it Sunday.

Man @ Work

Men at Work Frontman Colin Hay Going Solo

I'm hoping this hits Houston and the theater serves Vegimite sandwiches ...

LOS ANGELES (AP)--Colin Hay, frontman for 1980s Australian band Men at Work, will star in a one-man theater show of storytelling and music in New York City this May.

The stage offer came after Hay appeared at the Aspen Comedy Festival in early March with a show that features new songs along with old hits such as ``Down Under,'' ``Overkill'' and ``Who Can It Be Now?'' in acoustic-heavy performances that blend music with comedy.

``I try to take people on some kind of journey during the show and people seem glad to travel with me. There is some kind of thread through it,'' he told The Associated Press Tuesday. ``I based it on songs really, I'll think, `Where was I when I wrote this song and what was the song about?' The songs take me to a particular time.''

The stage show, titled ``Man (At) Work'' and set for the Village Theatre May 4-15, comes amid a North American tour Hay has been on since February--his biggest concert series in nearly a decade.

For years, the Scottish-born Australian immigrant, who now lives outside Los Angeles, has recorded and released his music on his Lazy Eye Records label. He's now signed with Compass Records, which released his latest CD, also titled ``Man (At) Work.''

The ups and downs of his career are part of the stage show.

``You have moments where you're selling millions of records and think, `This is my life now.' And for some people that continues, but often what happens is--that doesn't happen. You get dropped from a record label, fall from grace, and then you think: `Now what?' How do you deal with that part of your life while you may continue to head for the lofty peaks?''