Video: Beastie Boys- Intergalactic

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday. Christians stole and/or converted Easter and Christmas from the Pagans, but there's not much they can do with All Hallows Eve, is there?? Certainly they tried, but as the holiday is all about witches, demons, and dressing up like monsters to try to scare children, it's never been big with Christians. I remember a kid I knew growing up who wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating for this very reason. Granted, the Day of the Dead is similar, but it's a bit more holy and unless you're Mexican it makes you look like a tool if you celebrate it.

Anyway, for the past few years I've never done anything on Halloween other than watch some horror movies, get drunk, and eat candy. So I thought, why not enjoy Halloween for an entire month?? Starting now, I'm going to be sporadically posting Halloween themed entries on Whiskey Pie, whether it be movies (of the horror/scifi variety, naturally), videogames, or even music. I don't have a clever name for them, but look for the Halloween tag all month long, starting today and ending on Halloween itself.

With all that in mind, I present to you the video for the Beastie Boys's 'Intergalactic', an intentionally cheesy giant monster flick parody interspersed with images of the Boys posing, Power Rangers style, throughout Japan, a nation that, even back in 1998, still looks hyper-real and futuristic.

The 1UP Yours Drinking Game

Yes, it's time for another drinking game. You may remember the Guided By Voices drinking game I came up with. Maybe you even tried it?? Whatever. Be that way. Today I'm going to list the rules for the 1UP Yours podcast, which along with being a really entertaining videogame podcast also features some of the drinking-est hosts around.
Seriously.
Before I get to the rules, note that the traditional, accepted way to play this drinking game is with the whiskey or scotch of your choice, as well as whatever beer you have lying around. When I say "take a shot" you, well, take a shot of liquor or take a healthy swallow of scotch (assuming you drink it straight or on the rocks, that is...you could do shots if you want to). When I say "take a drink", that means you take a healthy swallow of beer. When I say "finish your drink" that means that you finish off the beer you currently have open. With that out of the way...

--As soon as the music ends and Garnett says his first line, take a drink.
--If at any point someone says "weekend confirmed" or there is talk about a possible confirmation of said weekend, take a shot.
--If there's a British person on the show, take a drink when they're either introduced or you hear their first line, whichever comes first.
--Whenever Shane mentions seeing a game or getting to play a game but he can't talk about it yet, finish your drink.
--If there's an ex-1UP staff member or on-their-way-out 1UP staff member on the show, take a drink at the beginning of the show.
--If Garnett mispronounces a word, uses the wrong word, or slurs his speech, take a shot.
--If the show is over two hours in length, go get a glass of water at the one hour mark. You'll thank me later.
--If they are doing a '4 Minute Warning' segment, finish your drink.
--Whenever Garnett has to explain how people have misrepresented his comments, and that he actually doesn't hate a game or isn't down on it, take a shot.
--At the break between segments, take two drinks.
--If Shane says anything along the lines of the follow phrases, take a shot: "I'm a huuuge fan of..."; if he says anything is the "secret best..." anything ever; any talk of something being over or underrated.
--If Andrew 'Skip' Pfister gets on the mic, you hear him talking in the background, or someone refers to him (particularly with the words "on the wheels of steel"), take a drink.
--If, in the process of fondly remembering something, Garnett refers to it as "the shit", take a drink.
--If a British or other foreign personage is on the show, every time you can't understand a word they said, take a drink.
--If Shane or Garnett aren't on the show, take a shot. If they're BOTH missing, take a shot and finish your drink.
--During the news segment, if they're doing NPD numbers, finish your drink.
--At the end of the show, when someone (usually Garnett) says "we are ghost" take a shot. If they forget to say it, take two shots.

Garnett and Shane and alcohol and microphones

Album of the Week: Fleet Foxes- Fleet Foxes

It's all well and good to listen to experimental and challenging music, music with grime, sweat, and blood caked unto every note...but sometimes you need a reminder of what else is out there. Music that is impossibly catchy, un-apologetically classicist in its songwriting while still being successful, or music that strives to uplift because it's just so damn beautiful. This kind of music is often unassuming in its greatness, in my opinion, because its immediacy has me wondering "is that it??" before realizing I don't need to apply the same scrutiny and work into appreciating it as I would the aforementioned "experimental, challenging" music.

The debut, self-titled album from Fleet Foxes resists this kind of criticism and desire to dig deeper. It makes you embarrassed of your critical faculties because it has a natural, organic, and pure beauty, as if complaining about it would be like complaining about a waterfall or a rose bush growing next to a farmhouse. That doesn't mean there isn't anything to say about it, so don't go away just yet.

While listening to Fleet Foxes I'm instantly reminded of what I think is half the reason most people hate indie/underground bands: the vocals. While I subscribe to the immortal words of David Berman of the Silver Jews--"All my favorite singers couldn't sing"--I can't pretend that some, or even most, people feel this way. Having a unique voice gives a band character and makes it more memorable, but this isn't what most listeners want. They want something appropriate to the music and a bit more...obvious, whether it be angry grunting set to metal or the flat speak-singing most rappers employ. While the singer of the Fleet Foxes may not have much personality, this is one of the prettiest albums in recent memory due solely to the vocal performances. Recalling Crosby, Stills, and Nash (and sometimes Young), the gold standard of harmonized vocals in rock music, Fleet Foxes also draw comparisons to contemporaries like My Morning Jacket and Band Of Horses. In case you don't follow, this means that the album is stuffed to bursting with soaring melodies and heartbreakingly pretty harmonies. Even if the singer is kind of faceless, he has to be for this kind of approach to work.

Though the music of Fleet Foxes is steeped in Americana, rustic folk, and classic rock, the whole thing reminds me a lot of the Flaming Lips's The Soft Bulletin in the way it uses staggeringly pretty orchestrated music to talk about dark lyrical themes. You don't really notice it at first, but on this album death is a recurring theme, along with general Appalachian malaise and introspection. 'He Doesn't Know Why', despite its prettiness, is the lament of a sibling for a brother who has been gone for two years, and who has been humbled by the world:
Penniless and tired with your hair grown long
I was looking at you there and your face looked wrong
memory is a fickle siren's song
I didn't understand
But, lyrics aside, the album is as pretty as I keep saying, the sort of music you idealize in your head when you use words like "lush", "ornate", and "gorgeous" to describe other bands or albums. Even the mostly instrumental 'Heard Them Stirring', which effectively uses wordless vocals in a way similar-to-but-entirely-different-from Animal Collective, is beautiful. Speaking of Animal Collective, some have noted their influence on this band though I suspect all they mean is a similar focus on using vocals in unique ways, as evidenced by the Collective-esque "row row row your boat" style of the singing on 'White Winter Hymnal', which is probably the most lush, ornate, and gorgeous song ever written about watching someone collapse from unnamed wounds and turn the snow "red as strawberries in the summertime." It's also worth praising the album for playing it loose with song structure, particularly the opener 'Sun It Rises', which begins with an a-capella section before the song proper begins, eventually closing things with a tacked on guitar outro that sounds like it might be beginning a different song before dropping out.

Fleet Foxes have here crafted one of the best debut albums in recent memory, containing some obvious influences but doing new and interesting things with them. Though normally I loathe bands repeating themselves, I wouldn't mind if Fleet Foxes released another album or two that was largely similar to this. After all, Fleet Foxes is like a countryside vacation simply too satisfying and too relaxing to never want to repeat.

Album of the Week: Boards of Canada- Geogaddi

Before I had ever listened to it, I read somewhere that audiophiles used Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon to test and calibrate their stereo systems. I've always liked the idea of people having a certain 'item' they run through new purchases for testing purposes, whether it be comparing a certain movie on Blu-ray vs. DVD or using one of those test CDs to make sure your car's new set-up can handle super loud bone-shaking bass. Me, though, I like to try out different visualizers, and while everyone else is focusing on how the new iTunes has a music recommendation feature called Genius, I've been putting the new visualizer through its paces.

My chosen album for putting said visualizers through said paces?? Geogaddi, of course. I find most instrumental music intensely visual, in a synesthesia kind of way--especially if it's electronic in origin--so it's nice to be lazy from time and time and let a computer handle the visuals while I relax my eyes and let drool slowly waterfall down the sides of my mouth. Some of my favorite times during school were watching science films with glazed-over adolescent eyes, and even if they were made in the same decade I was viewing them (the 90s, for those keeping score at home), they usually had this eerie soundtrack made up of late 70s/early 80s sounding keyboards, synthesizers, and sometimes even primitive drum machines. It sounded artificial and clunky, but it was otherworldly and oddly fascinating to me, and for the longest time I longed for music that sounded like it. Ambient music and ambient techno came really close, but my dream only can true when I discovered Boards of Canada, who--believe it or not--took inspiration for their name from 'The National Film Board of Canada', who produced many such science films.

Though Music Has The Right To Children, the band's first album, is widely considered to be a landmark in the electronic music genre, I personally think Geogaddi is the better album. This is for the entirely selfish reason that it comes the closest to meeting my longing for music that was like a science film soundtrack only better. Well, OK, I also think it's got better songs and does that magical music critic sentence fragment of "rewarding repeat listens." Speaking of magic, the duo behind Boards of Canada have talked about how they're obsessed and influenced by things like math, science, the paranormal world, cults, nature, childhood innocence, and outdated technology. At the same time, they have an aesthetic that reminds me a bit of the kind of...dark underbelly of late 60s music, with backmasked messages, mysteries about the making of their music and their identities (it was only recently revealed that the duo are actually brothers), hard-to-find albums or bootlegs of material not generally known to the public, a sense of general unease that hangs over some of their music, and a habit of putting hidden meanings or messages into their music (or at least, people reading it into their music).

I was recently relistening to Aphex Twin's first Selected Ambient Works album, and I realized why I don't like it as much as I do his second. It's entirely due to the instruments he used to make it, because the album has a very cheap, artificial sound to it rather than the organic, natural sound I associate with ambient music. Rather than being timeless music, it sounds very obviously early 90s, just like early Autechre does. Boards of Canada are so incredible to me because, by using outdated technology like analog synthesizers, their music becomes timeless. It's exactly why Brian Eno's groundbreaking ambient releases still sound captivating today. Don't mistake this for thinking that the only good ambient music has warmth or is human sounding, though. Great ambient music, and ambient techno in particular, often sounds cold, spacey, otherworldly, inhuman, and sometimes machine-like.

In fact, Geogaddi neatly juxtaposes human/otherworldly and natural/machine-like sounds. The shorter "interlude" tracks are usually free floating ambient pieces, sometimes with samples from science films or children talking, while the longer tracks have persistent beats that never fall prey to dancefloor bump-and-grind obvious-ness. Geogaddi is my ideal for how 'ambient techno' genre (or is that subgenre??) should sound, combining highly melodic and memorable keyboard melodies, synthesizer washes, surreal soundscapes, and plaintive minimalism with hypnotic-but-never-tedious percussive rhythms. More specifically, the album is full of contenders for the band's best work, including 'Dawn Chorus' (which reminds me of the beginning of 'The Gash' by the Flaming Lips for some reason) and 'Sunshine Recorder', a song I liked enough to have its title inscribed on the back of my iPod three years ago.

For what it's worth, the new iTunes visualizer passed the Geogaddi test. But more importantly, Geogaddi still holds up as one of the best ambient techno albums ever made, and one that I never seem to get tired of. Those interested in the genre (or subgenre...?? Whatever...) could scarcely find a better introduction, while those of you left a little underwhelmed by The Campfire Headphase are urged to travel back to this release and refresh your memory as to why you loved this band so much.

The Sincerest Form of Flattery

As kids, a great deal of our play was given over to recreating and imitating the things we loved, whether it be TV shows, movies, videogames, or books. I fondly remember constantly having the debate between 'little Turtles' or 'big Turtles' with playmates; that is to say, would a friend and I play with our action figures of the Ninja Turtles, or would we pretend we were them?? It grew to the point where, when a bit older, we would use such exciting new technology such as tape cassette recorders and video cameras to recreate talk radio and game shows, respectively, both with primitive props, sound effects, and costumes. Eventually, the human mind desires to create things of its own. We learn how to play instruments by playing the songs of others, but if you stick with it long enough, you want to write songs of your own. Personally, I've spent a lot of time reading and imitating the writing style of others in order to figure out what works, but also to help influence and shape my own style.

There is something genuinely sacred and fulfilling about the creative act and it's something that I think most people take for granted and don't realize they're doing. As adults we often parrot lines and skits from TV shows and movies we love in order to elicit the laughs of those in on the joke, and as a way to connect with people we don't know very well but who also love similar things. This, obviously, mirrors what we did as children. But the older you get, the most amusing things to you are those that you and your circle of friends and family come up with. I'm sure you can think of a few hilarious moments or running jokes you and your friends/coworkers have that wouldn't make sense to outsiders; even if you took the requisite 10 minutes to set up why the joke is funny, in the telling it becomes neutered and lame.

At the same time, it's increasingly hard to be original anymore. I'm talking specifically in the field of the arts. I routinely get the feeling that everything has been done before--every book has been written, every kind of music has been made, every possible permutation of a story or joke has been told, every art movement and counter art movement has run its course. Originally comes at a premium for me, such that it's always a temptation for me to overvalue things that don't look/sound/read/play like anything I've experienced before. However, the critical faculties eventually kick in and I begin to ask myself whether something is both original and good. There is a huge distinction between "original" and "original but also good" that critics and fans must constantly keep in mind. On the other hand, this obsession with originality plagues my mind when I'm writing, to the point where I sometimes scrap things because, even though they're good by my estimation, they read/feel too closely to the style or thought process of other writers.

I've always gravitated towards art that creates a distinctive, unique world. Even if it borrows elements of other things, the result is something that feels wholly original. I completely realize the flaws in something like, say, the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion, but I absolutely love it for the odd world it establishes. I think this is precisely why people like 'cult' movies, TV shows, videogames, and so on, because they like to feel as if they're part of some other reality outside our own that most people aren't aware of. Kind of like a larger form of an inside joke, if you think about it. This is why I loved The Adventures of Pete & Pete as a kid: the city it was set in, along with its characters, gave me a glimpse into a world that was more surreal, interesting, and sensible than our own. When I meet people who also loved the show, it's as if we suddenly have a set of inside jokes and references to share.

To tie all this together: the best art, in my opinion, is that which feels like the work of a small group of people--the inside jokes and references they have--which somehow translates to a wider audience because of the world it creates. Kevin Smith always seems baffled by the popularity of his Jay and Silent Bob characters, but the way they walk the border between the 'mundane' and the 'supernatural' is what makes them seem so real and lasting. They sometimes end up doing extraordinary things, but they're part of a world (the Askewniverse) that has a definite mythos and concrete set of rules. The same goes for bands that sound completely original, who seem to come out of nowhere and shock crusty critics like me who spend most of their thinking time at their menial jobs trying to come up with reference points for whatever band they're going to have to write a review of. Whether you love or hate Deerhoof, The Fiery Furnaces, The Silver Apples, Beat Happening, Frog Eyes, etc. you can't deny the originality of their sound. Certainly they have some influences and antecedents you could point to, but they don't really sound like them. It's more "we were influenced by..." than "we imitate...", if you follow my meaning. I love those bands because they create their own little niche world you can inhabit as a fan. They may not seem to create a world as richly and easily as books, TV shows, movies, or videogames can, but keep in mind that you've got more than just their music to work with. You've got their album covers and liner notes, their websites, their live shows, and their interviews to work with, too. Listening to, say, the Pixies or Talk Talk for the first time, it's as if you're being let into a new club that's always existed and now you get to play catch up. Moreover, other bands may be influenced by them, but if they stick too closely to the sound they sound like a cover band playing original material in between said covers. This is why Nirvana were so awesome, because Kurt Cobain admittedly took a lot from listening to the Pixies, but listening to them back-to-back, there's something new and original in Nirvana's sound.

You may remember that in 1998 a remake of Psycho was released to theaters and promptly dropped out of sight. What you probably don't remember is that it was a shot-for-shot attempt by Gus Van Sant to remake the original by following Alfred Hitchcock as perfectly as possible. Even though critics tried to see it his way, as an experiment in remaking films, everyone--even Van Sant himself--has agreed that a shot-by-shot remake of a film is pointless. You can't totally copy a film anyway, and even if you could, what would it accomplish?? As much as most remakes end up being crap, it's always best to change something from the original because otherwise it's a waste of time and money on everyone's part.
With all of this in mind, I present to you Rook by Shearwater and Stars and Garters by Muy Cansado. Enjoyable albums, yes, but they sound so close to their influences--the aforementioned Talk Talk and Pixies, respectively--that it bothers me. Rook is, according to Metacritic, one of the best rated albums of the year, so I've given a lot of thought to this whole 'originality'/'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery' issue. What's ultimately troubling about both of these albums is that they aren't very original yet I like them. Mostly I think it's just because both the Pixies and Talk Talk are defunct, and you can only listen to their albums so many times before you want something like it, but different and new. So, do you, as a critic, curve your score of these albums because you know they're borderline ripping off other bands, bands you enjoy?? I mean, it would be one thing if they were ripping off cancerous bands like Creed and Limp Bizkit, but critical darlings such as the Pixies and Talk Talk?? No fair. The case against Muy Cansado is more damning, I will say, because, not only do they sound like the Pixies, they also stole many other things from them, like being from Boston, having a girl bassist who sings one song, having a song or two in Spanish, and having album pacing that recalls Doolittle. I mean, the first song, 'Telemundo', might as well be 'Debaser', while the second song might as well be 'Tame', only with less screaming and tamer (har har) guitars.
People like to pretend that art should be judged on its own terms, but nothing exists in a vacuum. This is where the role of critics come in, whether it be the professional old hands or snotty upstarts like yours truly. Our job is to expose ourselves to a chosen art form, to swim across its breadth and dive into its depths, and to use this knowledge to sift the gold out of the river of releases like old timey gold prospectors. A job that is half consumer guide and half high falutin' think pieces (like this one, I suppose).

Judged on their own merits, Stars and Garters and Rook are good albums. But judged in reality, where I know of other, better, more original bands, they aren't good albums. They can't be, because they try to insinuate themselves into the world and mythos of others, and this always rings as false. We knew as kids that we weren't really the Ninja Turtles. We had fun with it, had fun playing in the world they resided in, but we never tried to convert that play into a career. I'm not implying that Shearwater and Muy Cansado are making money off the work of others--because that's what cover bands do, in all honesty--but I wish people who know better would make clear to the public when bands are imitating versus when they've just been influenced. Because in the arts, influence is the true sincerest form of flattery.

Whoops...

You know, I really did intend to post something, but I spent most of the day while I wasn't at work assembling a new CD/DVD shelf unit and arranging my stuff on it. Also, I only have like 3 hours til it's midnight and I might as well rally for something great tomorrow instead of a thrown-together-piece-of-crap article.

So, yeah. Sorry. Here is a hilarious video* from the Internet's past in consolation.

*video may not actually be hilarious.

The Fiery Furnaces- Remember

Going to see a band live can sometimes just be an excuse to brag. So many times a band's live incarnation consists solely of a shuffled selection of songs from their albums, played in exactly the same way. This isn't automatically a bad way to do things, since the intimacy of most live shows combined with knowing tour money is mostly responsible for bands staying afloat makes you feel good about the arrangement. I try not to let the whole 'star power' thing affect me, but I do sometimes have those moments where I'm watching a band and I think "holy crap, they're right there!!" So, you go just to say you went in some vain attempt to impress others.

However, the other ways of doing a live show interest me much more. Many bands are unwilling or unable to utilize the musical format--and make no mistake, a concert is a different format in the same way that singles, EPs, albums, double albums, and box sets are different formats--but those that do make a live show a precious, memorable, and once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. With these concerts, you aren't going just to say you went. You're going to see and hear something entirely unique. There are many ways to reward a live audience with something substantial. For starters, bands can go the jam band/jazz-route and add improvisation to their songs, often times segueing directly into and out of very different songs. They can re-arrange their songs for the stage, turning originals and cover songs inside out. They can interact with the audience by taking requests or bantering between (or during!!) songs. They can perform medleys, combining their songs into an epic mass made up of small snippets of different material. And there's probably a few dozen other ways to make live shows unique that I'm not thinking of, including varying combinations of the above.

The Fiery Furnaces are well known for seizing the advantage of a live setting. Their approach is two of the above--to perform re-arranged versions of their songs and/or to perform medleys of songs. This ensures that every show you see of their's is unique, because from tour to tour they usually have a different band as well as a whole new set of songs to pull apart in addition to re-arranged versions of old nuggets. You go into a Fiery Furnaces show not really knowing what to expect, whether it be burning garage rock, scintillating prog, lively salsa/tropicalia, or borderline-music hall ditties.

Remember represents a step further from their live shows, utilizing 3 years worth of material to craft a 51-track monstrosity that, in the course of a single song, might use two or more different versions of said song. This makes the whole package a fascinating, unwieldy beast that ought to bear the disclaimer "For Fans Only" instead of the "Do not attempt to listen to all at once" that it does. It is funny to think of someone who wants to get into the band thinking a live album made up of album highlights is the best way to go, and having their brain cells fried by the music within. Anyway, it is probably good advice to take these two discs in chunks, so bear that in mind.

Remember also bears the distinction of going the furthest into the rapid fire switches of tempo, mood, and texture that have characterized most of what people hate and love in the Fiery Furnaces. 'Hyperactive prog rock' is something I've heard a lot about this band, but it's not until Remember that I really felt it was apt, since now the songs--being made up of two or more different versions--are careening ever more rapidly. The impression an initial listen leaves you with is that this album is exhausting in its quixotic medleys, breakneck changes, and unrelenting pace. With time, though, Remember reveals itself for what it is: an inverted greatest hits album.

I know that doesn't make sense, but let me explain. See, 'Greatest Hits' packages are not designed for fans. They're designed to pull in casual listeners with a set of the band's best, most appealing songs, as if someone were pulling a $5 bill connected to fishing string down the sidewalk. Remember is unquestionably for the fans, and rather than featuring a set of the band's most appealing songs taken from studio albums, it features completely different versions of those songs taken from live shows. Perhaps it's best to think of this as a remix album combined with a live album combined with a greatest hits.

Even if you're a hardcore fan who owns all their stuff, Remember may as well not have any previously released songs because of how little resemblance these songs bear to their studio counterparts. As it's made up of songs from all of their albums (disappointingly, none of Matt Friedberger's solo material shows up, though his few turns on the mic are treats), even if you only like certain releases from the band, you'll be constantly surprised at the new transformations of songs you thought you hated. Personally I think the album is perfect for people who never got into Rehearsing My Choir because the renditions of its songs are pretty incredible (and assuming you couldn't stand their Grandmother's voice, you'll be happy to know that she's nowhere to be found here).

The only problem with Remember is that there isn't enough breathing space. It is a visceral rush when an album never lets up but it doesn't make for an appealing listen you want to hear over and over. I would definitely like to hear a straight-up release of a single live show from the Fiery Furnaces because the flow of a concert is missing here. Your mileage may vary, but I want some release from the tension every so often. And coming from a band that secretly has some really great ballads and mellow songs up their sleeves, it's a bit of a let down when they bulldoze through 'Birdie Brain' and 'Waiting To Know You.' At the very least, they could have transformed other songs into more mellow and ballad-like forms.

As usual with The Fiery Furnaces, we've been given what the band thinks we need and not what we want. Remember is another fascinating, challenging, and rewarding album from a band with no shortage of fascinating, challenging, and rewarding music. Aside from a strict warning for non-fans to stay away, my only caveat emptor to offer about this release is that you go in with an open mind and try to understand what the band is doing rather than dwell on what you think they're doing wrong. Even if Remember isn't the band's best work and can only be digested in chunks, it's still an essential part of their discography and a veritable Rosetta's Stone for understanding their live approach.