Americon Idols

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th Anniversary Concert. HBO.

For the first time in a very long time, millions of Americans are talking about something on TV that’s really, really good.

Bruce Springsteen, Tom Morello, Jeff Beck, Aretha Franklin, John Fogerty, Stevie Wonder, Sting, U2, Mick Jagger, Lou Reed, Metallica, Ray Davies, John Legend, Ozzie Osborne, Art Garfunkel, CSNY, Jackson Browne, James Taylor, Paul Simon.  Jann Wenner, Cameron Crowe.

Ghost of Tom Joad

Sometimes you throw on an album – preferably one that hasn’t had much rotation in a while – that perfectly matches your mood in that exact space of life.  It’s a rare occurrence, no doubt.  With so many passing moments in life, and so many albums out there in the ether, to fit that cosmic puzzle piece is truly a sublime slice of humanity.  Right now, with the darkness of winter looming, I can’t find another album more appropriate than Springsteen’s ‘Ghost of Tom Joad.’  I highly recommend giving this an evening listen at some point in the near future.  It’s always good to remind yourself that the Boss isn’t always bombast and revelry.

Recognize these?

You should.  Finally completed in 1964 by architect Bertrand Goldberg, the Marina City towers were originally planned as a mixed use/residential community on Chicago’s State street.  Try a different angle.

Iron and Wine w/ Calexico – In the Reins

Of all the albums in my collection, this one sits atop a very sacred category: the growers.  Time erodes most albums, leaving them thoroughly discovered, and thus lacking most of their original luster.  In the Reins, on the other hand, continues to expand with each listen.  And by the way, I’ve always supported the opera interlude!

A Pleasant Surprise

I just started my day by reading an email from my dad informing me, completely out of the blue, that we would be seeing Bela Fleck and the Flecktones on Wednesday at this place… (disregard the ‘our location’ tag)

I’ve seen these guys once before, at Bonnaroo, but always felt that the true Flecktones experience had to be in a venue a bit more in tune with their virtuosity.  Yea, not a bad way to start my first week as a 24-year old.

Before the Recession pt. 3

This man was an inescapable part of the cultural zeitgeist.  Thinking back, wouldn’t you rather have this gentle, little dude than Sarah Palin?  Times were simple.  Life was good.

Refund

You know those movies that are so bad you wish you could get your money back?  I know we’ve all seen plenty, and I think we can all agree that they usually leave you with a feeling of anger, resentment, and possibly nausea.  Well, last night I saw the shit pile to top all shit piles.  2012 is, without any doubt in my mind, the worst movie I’ve ever seen.  You won’t see me review movies much on this site.  Music is my forte, and even though there are a million jerk offs writing on both mediums, I’m just not into movies enough to feel as if my opinion qualifies.  Unless, of course, I see something so beautiful or, in this case, utterly repulsive that remaining quiet would be a disservice to the 3-4 poor suckers who read this blog.

Look, I was ready to walk out 30 minutes in.  I wish I could say that I’m thankful to my friends for keeping me in the seat, but the truth is I’m really not.  The whole time I’m sitting there, I’m thinking, “what an absolute waste!”  2012 could have rocked.  I’m hardly one of these guys who’s above a disaster flick.  I still enjoy Armageddon as mush as I did when I was in middle school, and 2012 should have surpassed it.  The cast is just as solid, and the subject matter is a) way more ostensibly appealing, and b) tailor made for the uber-budget disaster flicks director Roland Emmerich likes to make (Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow).  Unfortunately, 2012 is simply one of these haphazard projects that was probably doomed from the start.

For starters, while the CGI was undeniably impressive, there were definitely whole sections that seemed no more impressive than the intro graphics in a good video game.  Come on, Hollywood.  You must be able to do better.  For Christ sakes, don’t tell me James Cameron can create god-knows-what kind of mayhem in Avatar, and you guys can’t be discerning enough to spot some shoddy sections.  Isn’t that what the money’s for?  Furthermore, and this is not exaggeration, I have never seen a movie chock full of more cliches.  And not just disaster flick cliches.  I’m talking about the most trite dramatic touches from any genre.  These are more-than-capable actors, and while I’m sure they were compensated handsomely, I couldn’t help but feel bad for Cusack, Glover, and Ejiofor throughout 3/4 of the flick.

As if the whole fucked reality of 2012 isn’t upsetting enough, I had to sit here this morning and read a 4-star review from The Washington Post.  To all you readers of this, admittedly illustrious, paper: don’t drink the cool-aid.  The author of the review posits that 2012 is a disaster film ‘without peer,’ and while I see his point that there is nary another movie whose plot is as ambitious, that doesn’t mean it’s a success.  His arguments about the competent level of the acting is plain laughable.  And of course, the one scene whose effects he complements, is, in my opinion, the most glaring toss-off throughout.  Believe me, there are some effects that are undeniably awe inspiring (particularly the volcano scene), but… well, I think you’ll just have to see for yourself.

Wait, no, please don’t see this movie.  If anything, just do something else, anything else, for 158 minutes, and wait for this hell pit to hit DVD.  In my opinion, 2012 would have been much better off as a straight-to-DVD cult flick, resoundingly adopted by stoners with HD TV’s.  Living rooms with bongs and beer bottles strewn about are actually much better locales for this dud, than a theatre with people trapped by the guilt of dropping $10 in fucked economic times.  Finally, I’m certainly not someone above admitting I was wrong.  There are definitely instances in which, further down the road, I see the error in my ways.  But in this case, I’ve never been more sure that I’m on the ball.

The Low Anthem @the Black Cat 11/12

Last night I saw a band called the Low Anthem.  I am still floored.  They are a trio, and yet, over the course of their 60 minute set, they found a way to incorporate 10 different instruments – including cellphones, a harmonium, and a pump organ.  Throughout the set I kept thinking, “this is the perfect time to be seeing this band.”  They’re still hungry.  You can still see the passion on their faces.  As a music nerd, I just can’t tell you how much that can do to a concert.  The artist’s passion can make the difference between a solid performance and a revelatory one, which last night’s most certainly was.  Make no mistake, this is much more than bedroom music.  The Low Anthem have tapped into an ages-old American musical tradition.  They are a power trio, only one whose power has nothing to do with the volume or wattage of their instruments.  There is no electronic sheen between what you’re hearing and what they’re doing on stage.  For example, I didn’t see a single effects pedal on stage.  That this is the case, and that they sound even better live than on record, is a true testament to their intensity as musicians.  I know it’s hyperbolical to say this, but I closed my eyes at some points last night, and in doing so, I felt as if I was no longer in that cramped, dark room.  I wasn’t just a dude, in a room, with his eyes closed.  I was somewhere very far away.  Somewhere bucolic.

(The videos above have cuts from each of the band’s albums.  Notice the use of cellphones in the first clip.  Awesome.)

American Kimchi

It’s been an activity/stress-filled two months, but I’ve still not forgotten about Korea.  How could I?  In fact, I still find myself bringing it up in conversation… frequently, and probably much to my friends’ dismay.

Though, I’ll admit, it would be hard to forget the good ‘ol ROK in a place like northern VA, which absolutely must have one of the most active Korean populations in the country.  And if you think I’m full of it, then just travel to Annandale, VA – a small city in which SEVERAL whole strip malls will be nothing but Korea-themed operations.  In fact, I saw whole office complexes with nary an English letter visibly anywhere on the building’s facade.  It’s a wild place, but one I’m very comfortable in.

At any rate, you would think that with all of these Koreans here, I could get some quality Kimchi.  Unfortunately that has not been the case, and I’m straight pissed about it.  Most Americans can’t understand this, but Kimchi fucking rocks!  It’s healthy, it tastes fantastic with meat, and you can use it to make endless amounts of hangover-busting soup.  I miss it as much, if not more, than the curious looks I got from throngs of intensely attractive Korean women.

America has not been good to my waistline.  I don’t look like trash, and I haven’t been keeping a routine as I should, but damn does American food make it hard to stay svelte.  Quite frankly I’m glad I let it go a little bit at the end of my Asian stay, because it would have been really awful if I came looking in shape, and then watched it go down in a blaze of glory.  Now all I have to do is contend with the fact that it went from bad to worse.

Why am I ranting?  You guessed it: I WANT MY KIMCHI!  But not just any watered-down (read: American) Kimchi.  I want the good stuff.  I want the stuff I had in Korea, that I would gladly have over any pb&j.  Koreans of America: why are you holding out on us?  You know that there’s an all-consuming health craze in this country, where are your infomercials about the ‘Kimchi diet’?  This is a billion-dollar industry that you are not breaking into!

There’s Only One

I’ve been going to New York city at least twice a year since I was a wee boy.  I didn’t appreciate much back then, especially not much of what it meant for me – a kid from the DC ‘burbs – to be in glorious New York.  However, I did get a feeling from the city – an intense buzz I would say is akin to watching the lions get fed at a zoo.  Truly.  I don’t know how old I was, but I distinctly recall sensing that I was in middle of something startlingly different from my own life, something important, something great.

Not too long ago, I was in New York city, and sure enough, after 18 months NY-free, the feeling came flooding back.  Not only had my body not forgotten it, but it hadn’t lost one ounce of its intensity.  Now, I’m not saying New York is my favorite city – it’s not.  Nor do I think I could ever live there.  But, what is abundantly clear to me, is that New York is the greatest city in the world.  I’m not trying to be a douche, but I’ve been to great cities all over the world.  Seoul, Tokyo, Barcelona, London, Paris, Hanoi, and I’m not even going to mention all of the big American guys… all of these grand metropolises, and none can come close to conjuring up the vivid electricity I feel in the Big Apple.

To all my friends now making their lives in ‘the city’: I admire you, I wish you the best of luck, and I humbly ask in advance that you retain a couch so that I may come and get my fix from time to time.