I don’t think I’ve ever formally thanked them.

Members of Arcade Fire, thank you for forming and creating music that has changed my life. Thank you for appearing on Austin City Limits so I could watch you play “Wake Up” and make me fall in love with you. Thank you for opening me up to new music that I would have never heard before I heard you. Thank you for reminding me that life is beautiful and worth living for every moment, good or bad. Thank you for giving me chills every time I listen to “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)”, “(Antichrist Television Blues)”, “Crown of Love”, “Rebellion (Lies)”, “In the Backseat”, and “My Body is a Cage”. Thank you for giving me something to have in common with others who love you. Thank you for remaining indie so I have the feeling that I’m the only one who listens to you, even though I’m not. Thank you for writing lyrics that have become so personal to me that I can’t imagine living without them. Thank you for bringing me up when I’m down. Thank you for being normal-looking like me. Thank you for changing my life.

I wish I could meet all of you, and I think I will someday. Sometimes I think it’s one of my goals in life. Sometimes you’re all I think about all day.

Thank you for digging tunnels through the snow and swinging from the power lines. Thank you for taking me where no cars go. Thank you for fixing my meals and going to sea to fight for me.

I can wait for your third album forever.

Right now, though, I need to get on this essay.

Arcade Fire

#6.  Arcade Fire, Funeral (2004): Much of what was released during the early part of this decade left a lot to be desired.  That is until a little known band from Montreal released Funeral.  The title of the album was chosen because a few members of the band had recently experienced deaths in the family.   Not surprisingly then that themes of loss are pervasive here.  But that isn’t to say that it’s all morose.  In fact, the irony of it all is that at several turns on the record the music is quite upbeat.  On the brilliant up-tempo rocker “Power Out,” a song about, well a power out, the band is in full stride with beautiful string arrangements, a prodding drum beat and a touch of xylophones; no doubt a stroke of genius.  Led by the husband and wife duo of Win Butler and Régine Chassagne, Funeral showcased a band capable of creating both the new and familiar.  The wide variety of instrumentation shows a true test of versatility.  The result is a beautiful brand of orchestral pop.  But what puts the music over the top are Butler’s euphoric high-pitched vocals which put a more familiar spin on the sound.  At times I’ve struggled to describe this album because it is easily one of the most dynamic albums released in the last ten years.   It may take a while to sink in, but that usually signifies a great album.

Faves: Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels), Neighborhood #3 (Power Out), Crown of Love, Wake Up

Listen: http://www.lala.com/#album/1801721326119908672/Arcade_Fire/Funeral

More: http://www.arcadefire.com/yope.html

.do they know it’s hallowe’en? performed by the north american hallowe’en prevention initiative.

Ok, I hate “Best Of” lists just as much as you do. That’s why I’m just calling this my “favorite” list so there isn’t the feeling of who is better than who. I like to write songs when I’m not writing this blog or herding cattle on the range, and have delved into many a great one and pulled it apart to discover what lies within. Most of the time I’m left with nothing but a bunch of words that sound cool together, but are meaningless and shallow. A great song is like a children’s book – when the story is over and the pages are closed, the world created by the author continues to exist within the reader’s head, and echo of the tale lingers and develops a life of its own.

Great songwriters are capable of creating a world we can live in beyond the limits of the song’s duration. Their words toss and turn in our dreams, their melodies drift in our minds and out of our mouths on the elevator to work, and by the end of the day we can’t wait to get back to our record player, put that needle down and relive the moment one more time. A great song lives and breathes and has a personality all its own. The greatest writers have entire albums full of these songs that actually exist as characters in our minds. If you let them, these writers may climb into your conscience too, and you may feel as if you know them. But you cannot really know this person, no matter how you long to, because their existence is a fabrication of their own design, just like their songs. Even those who are related or married to a songwriter cannot claim to know them. They are the modern shapeshifters of society, taking on forms of different characters and moods, living in different times and places all at once. I bet few songwriters would even claim to know themselves.

Now to the list. These are people that I have wanted to meet and thank for making the world more bearable. Another part of me doesn’t want to ruin the fantasy of who I think they are, and I also wouldn’t want to bother them. But if they ever happen to sit down next to me at a bar, I’d treat them as if they were an old friend, because in my mind that’s what they are.

THE BEST OF EACH DECADE:

50’s – Hank Williams – The original “Songwriter”, and one of the greatest of all time. Before this you have the Tin Pan Alley scene, but no one man could cut to the chase the way Hank did, and no one has come close since. “Cold, Cold Heart” is one of the saddest songs ever written. Definitely the greatest songwriter of the 50’s.

60’s – Bob Dylan – What a bastard. How can you be such an anemic prick, sneering and jeering your way via lies into people’s hearts and minds, first with a fake smile, then behind dark darting sunglasses, only to tell them all to go fuck themselves? You write nimble poetry that connects far-off distant memories in our minds and make us thing we know what’s going on, then leave us in the dust like all your forgotten lovers. I hope you can forgive yourself what you’ve done to us, Dylan – I definitely have. You’re still the greatest songwriter to come out of the 60’s, and you’ve done pretty well for yourself in the 70’s and 2000’s, too.

70’s – Neil Young – Neil is friendlier, furrier, and more rustic than Dylan. If Dylan is New York, Neil is Half Moon Bay. Still, a darkness underlies every word the man has written, and sadness is ultimately the subject of most of his greatest songs. What makes Mr. Young so great must be the same thing that makes Steinbeck great - everything is simple, straightforward, and seemingly contemplative of the human spirit, which is treated with reverence and fear. Very few songwriters can put so much of themselves in their songs without it coming out pretentious. Neil’s got my vote for the best songwriter in the 70’s, moving from After the Gold Rush and Harvest through Tonight’s the Night, On the Beach, all the way to Rust Never Sleeps.

80’s – Bruce Springsteen - He is both seductive and honest in his approach to songwriting. Never mind that his voice sounds like warm leftovers after about the fifth song, no one can write a song for the workin’ man like the Boss. His stories appeal to the most basic needs of humans, to be loved, to honor brotherhood, to make quick money and go to Atlantic City. If only judged by Nebraska, he would still come out on top as the greatest songwriter of the 80’s.

90’s – Elliot Smith – Yes, I know he was kind of pathetic and whiny. So was Dylan and Hank Williams. Songwriters are like little brothers - they always get beat up, and instead of fighting back they brood in their rooms for days to perform some act of genius that makes you feel like a jerk for picking on them in the first place. Mr. Smith must have spent weeks in his room, shooting up and drinking vodka in a mad depression, in order to create the incredibly fragile ballads that he is known for. I am aware that most of his songs are about dope and suicide, but no one writes such brilliantly bitter pop melodies that leave you wondering whether heroin is such a bad thing after all (except maybe John Lennon, Elliot’s idol). I guess it was, considering it’s elemental in Smith’s suicide stabbing(!?!). Definitely my favorite songwriter from the 90’s.

00’s – Ryan Adams – Jesus Christ, not again. Another twitchy genius with big mouth and bad hair making snarky comments that cause discomfort. It’s like Dylan all over again, isn’t it? Well, not exactly. Adams is by far the most prolific artist of his  generation, releasing so many albums in the past 10 years it’s ridiculous, starting with the indespensable Heartbreaker. The good news is that he is now “retired” from songwriting after cleaning up off drugs and alcohol, and spends his time writing novels, recording joke heavy metal albums, sleeping with new wife Mandy Moore, painting, and writing blogs about arcade games. What a delightful twist! Actually, I really wish he would get back to writing songs again, because no one can tell lyrical tales of pain and heartbreak in late-night diners over coffee and cigarettes like ol’ Ryan Adams. This decade isn’t over yet, but I’m calling it now:  best songwriter of the 00’s.

OTHER FAVORITES:

Gram Parsons – It took me a little while to forgive him for singing out of tune on most everything he did, but it actually accentuates the earnest sense of urgency that makes his music so endearing. Gram is not the ”Golden Prophet” that he is often revered as, rather he was a lost young man with a difficult emotional past that he channeled into great songs. Most interesting is that his concept of “Cosmic Country” is right on – his music inspires a humanitarian empathy that can’t be ignored.

John Lennon – Definitely not Paul McCartney, Lennon was the antithesis of happy safe pop music. This is one is so obvious, but I really like his post-Beatle catalog the most, as he delves deeper into the personal darkness that made him so such a tragic figure (even if he wasn’t murdered, he was still a tragedy). The most loveable basketcase I can think of, Lennon proved that being a genius songwriter doesn’t change the world, but it definitely makes it more bearable to live in.

Kris Kristofferson – Most people don’t know that Kristofferson wrote hits like, “Me  Bobby McGee”, “Sunday Morning Coming Down”, and “Help Me Make it Through the Night”. Plus, he was in the Highwaymen and is a great actor (which has nothing to do with his songwriting, I know). He evokes feelings of the best of times, along with the worst of times. Without sounding too much like a Dickens novel, I can’t live without him.

Lefty Frizzell - A lesser-known contemporary of Hank Williams, Lefty wrote some incredible songs in his short career, most notably the ones covered by Willie Nelson. “If You’ve Got the Money” is the #1 sugar mama track, and that was waaaayyy before it was cool to have one.

Leonard Cohen – If Gram Parsons is the loveable boy-child of songwriting, then Cohen is definitely the Ice King. His lyrical content is seductive without frills, and while Parsons will sing about the Armaggedon with cautionary hope, Cohen will sing as if it has already happened and he is the product of the fallout, mourning the loss of innocence in a land ravaged by sin and overconsumption. It’s no wonder that his adult themes of cheating wives and fallen kings resonate so well with the Hollywood crowd and strip clubs. His voice is the last shred of humanity left standing in Babylon, and it’s like we’re listening to the folk music of the future. I’m guessing that this bard would have fared well in the world of “Total Recall”.

Loretta Lynn – People give Taylor Swift so much credit for being so young and writing her own songs. They forget it’s happened before, and it was done better in the past. Loretta’s about the same as Swift, except she had already had a couple of kids and was married to a no-count drunk which gave her much more interesting things to sing about. She was also poor and uneducated, but that didn’t stop her from becoming one of the fiercest female voices to ever stick up for the forgotten housewives in America. With song titles like, “The Pill” and “Fist City” Loretta could be considered one of the first feminist songwriters. If she isn’t the first, she most certainly is the best of the lot. A special place in my heart is reserved only for this strong woman.

Lou Reed - Inspiring generations of noisy garage bands is easily forgiveable when you write a song like “Heroin”, which has never  before or since been matched in meniachal intensity. The voice of the urban New York underground, Reed has never played it safe lyrically, and almost always delivers in creating the paranoid, zonked-out feeling of hanging out with a tranny, midget twins, and a drug dealer at one of Warhol’s parties. Even Nico could sing his songs and they sounded cool.  Not to mention that his solo exploits, while often scattered, continue to display his mastery of the language of filthy human resiliency.

Lucinda Williams – The queen of modern country, or Americana, as it is now referred to. She has the wail and moan of Hank Williams in her leathery voice, but what makes her so amazing is that she is poetic without being flowery. Much of the themes in her music (especially the more recent “West”) are biographical in nature, conjuring images of single mothers driving buicks in the desert. The forlorn sadness captured in her stark imagery reflects both spiritual and existensial realities, and her writing abilities continue to stretch outward successfully. Definitely the strongest and most responsible female voice of modern songwriting, Williams just keeps getting better and better. I can’t wait to see what she does next. 

Merle Haggard - Never before has the voice of the prisoner been so well emoted as with Merle Haggard. If it just came down to songs about leaving behind mama and getting into trouble, then Merle would be well ahead of the game It just so happens that he also wrote some of the best ramblin’ train songs of all time, too. Try to understand the humor and irony in songs like “Okie From Muskogee”, “Workin’ Man Blues” and “Fightin’ Side of Me”, and you’ll find yourself a happier person. You can’t play a single juke joint from here to Texas without knowing some Merle Haggard.

Townes Van Zandt – The most depressing human on Earth. Seriously, why do you have to do this to us, Townes? What I like best about his music is that for a second you think things are looking up, and then he swoops in like a bird of death and kills all hope. I can’t listen to him too much, but his music fills an irreplaceable void in my life – the depressed space. “Waitin’ Around to Die” pretty much tops the charts of all-time biggest downers, and makes Neil Young sound like Bob Marley. He also writes great story songs like “Pancho and Lefty”, too.

Willie Nelson – He definitely is a beloved country icon, but before Willie was famous for being Willie, he wrote “Hello Walls”, “Mr. Record Man”, and Patsy Cline’s best song, “Crazy”, and sold the rights to them all for less than a bag of weed. Of course, he’s written hundreds of great songs since then, and continues to pump out one great tune after another to this day. The best part about Willie is his sense of humor, and when I heard “Cowboys are Frequently, Secretly Fond of Each Other” I nearly died laughing. Please ignore the fact that he lets people like Toby Keith and Kid Rock sing on his albums. Please at least try.

Great songwriters who should be on this list but aren’t (with excuses):

Alejandro Escovedo - I must confess, I only own one album (Boxing Mirror), but the words are awesome!
Beck - If humor were the main criteria for a great songwriter, he would be #1.
Brian Wilson - He loses points for writing songs about surfing. No one wonder he went insane.
Buddy Holly - I love Buddy Holly, he wrote perfect pop songs. But Carole King isn’t on this list either.
Cat Power - Sometimes her words are gibberish, other times fantastic. Keep writing, Cat!
Curtis Mayfield - Songs for the ghetto, I guess. Curtis is a political spokesman, but he isn’t a lyrical genius.
David Bowie - I’m also tempted to add him now, but his words don’t quite carry the power of some of the other cats.
George Jones - A great songwriter indeed, but his songs never sound as good when someone else sings them.
Jim Morrison - Really more of a poet than a songwriter, don’t you think?
Keith Richards/Mick Jagger - Rock n’ Roll isn’t supposed to have good lyrics. These guys do it for me, but I’m not taking the words to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” with me to the grave.
Neil Diamond - The man did write some amazing songs, but the schmaltz aspect of his act has always detracted from his genius.
Nick Drake – Neil Young and Townes are depressing enough. I can’t take it any more!
PJ Harvey – She is fun to listen to, and her lyrics aren’t burdened with depression and sadness. I need those in my songs.
Ralph and Carter Stanley - Bluegrass couldn’t exist without these cats. But cautionary religous tales about drinking too much just don’t resonate much with me. I never knew why:)
Robert Hunter – I love his lyrics, they have important life lessons in them. But clever they are not.
Roy Orbison - He definitely wrote great songs, though I can’t exactly admit that he is one of my favorites.
Tom Waits - Awesome lyrics, hideous, overwraught voice. I can’t stand his music.
Stevie Wonder - What a fantastic writer, especially his melodies. But one of my favorites? I gotta say close, but no cigar.
Willie Dixon - The greatest blues songwriter ever, to be sure. But seriously, how hard is it to write a blues song?
Win Butler – Pretty good, pretty good. I’ll make the decision when more albums are released.
Woody Guthrie – Ok, I know he’s great. I’m just not educated enough on his music to make a valuable assesment. Maybe when I finally get enough cash together to get some of his records…

Source: AOL

Donnie Darko left me breathless, literally. The credits came up, my mouth was wide open, and I was completely in awe. Southland Tales left me another kind of breathless; pissed off, mouth agape in confused wonder. So with that, I present the trailer for Richard Kelly’s follow-up The Box, based on Richard Matheson’s short story, “Button, Button”, which later became a Twilight Zone episode. The story concerns a married couple who are offered a simple proposition: “Push the button and you’ll receive a million dollars, however; somewhere, someone you don’t know will die.” What would you do?

This trailer is a poor example (mostly the music), but I believe we’re in for something special. When I finished the script for his upcoming adaptation of  I actually had to stop a moment to pause. This isn’t like anything we’ve gotten from Richard Kelly before. It’s much darker than Darko, insanely more cohesive than Tales, and more mainstream than both. It’s a disturbing story, with a great hook, and an amazing ending. I don’t know what draft I read, but I’m really excited for Kelly to prove everyone wrong. The film stars Cameron Diaz, James Marsden, and Frank Langella. It is being scored by Win Butler, Regine Chassagne, and Owen Pallett, of Arcade Fire and Final Fantasy fame, respectively.

Timothy Kyle the vocalist/multi-instrumentalist for the Wild Light is a former member of the Montreal based band the Arcade Fire. Jordan Alexander the Wild Light’s guitarist/vocalist was boarding school roommates with Win Butler (lead vocalist for Arcade Fire) at Exeter prep school. The Wild Light and the Arcade Fire have toured extensively together throughout Europe and the United States.  

Adult Nights is the debut album by the quartet Wild Light; this articulate indie-pop album does not disappoint with the opening sing along tune “California on My Mind”, the ode to their home state “New Hampshire”, the bubble gum pop influenced “My Father Was A Horse”, and the late night summer drive song “Canyon City”. The band uses a plethora of instruments and effects to create their sound which has been described as eighties brit pop/new wave, however the use of only acoustic drums throughout the album gives it an organic warmth and continuity that most of the music from the eighties lacked. Pop music lovers like myself will gladly add this album to their collection.

Check them out on myspace.

-James Fortin (Marketing Management)

Word: levity [lev-i-tee] n. 1. lightness of mind, character or behavior; lack of appropriate seriousness or earnestness 2. an instance or exhibition of this 3. fickleness 4. lightness in weight

Birthday: Maxmilien Robespierre (1758), Sigmund Freud (1856), Christian Morgenstern (1871), Rudolph Valentino (1896), Orson Welles (1915), Willie Mays (1931), Rubin Carter (1937), Jimmie Dale Gilmore (1945), Bob Seger (1945), Tony Blair (1953), Roma Downey (1960), John Flansburgh (1960), George Clooney (1961)

Standpoint: Recently, I moved from the City of Philadelphia to one of its suburbs, East Norriton. I grew up in the ‘burbs and, throughout my adult life, have gone through several suburban stints. But mostly, in the past decade and a half, I’ve lived in some section of Philadelphia. Obviously, there are differences. Here are three that I’ve noticed so far this time around.

• Driving – There are  sidewalks out here but they’re used about as often as that Snuggie you got last Christmas. No one walks anywhere from what I can tell. In the city, pedestrian traffic almost drove me insane. Now, it’s the other cars on the road that are filling that hole in my life. Because hardly anyone demonstrates a sense of urgency. Also, gratuitous use of one’s horn is frowned upon. I’m not asking my fellow drivers to hop the curb or run a red light. But the other day I was driving behind a woman talking on her phone and not moving after the light had been green for about five seconds. I was only looking for a little understanding when I gave a little honk, informing her I’d be agreeable if she put down the cell phone and pushed the gas pedal. She did put the phone down. Then she gave me the finger. Then she pushed the gas pedal. In that order. The next morning, the guy in front of me, driving what looked like the first pickup truck made by Ford, didn’t use his turn signal while pulling into the Sears Hardware at a speed that would’ve made a parade procession appear supersonic by comparison. Apparently, I missed the memo about Fred not having to worry about the proper rules of the road when he’s going to drink coffee in the Sears parking lot with the rest of the guys who feel that using a turn signal is just plain bothersome/uncool. Again, my horn use was met with the middle finger. OK. Message received loud and clear. No honking of the horn. Let’s move on.
• Civility - In the city, I can remember going to Wawa, the local convenience store, collecting my targeted items, taking them to the counter, paying for them and walking out the door. Without uttering a single word. I didn’t know anything about any of the people who worked in a store I frequented at least once a day. And - I’m sure this’ll sound ruder than I intend it -but I really didn’t want to get familiar with the crew at Wawa. I’ve always felt that idle small-talk in a convenience store makes it significantly less convenient. Out here in the suburbs, it appears there is some expectation of chit-chat during the customer-clerk exchange. My first day here, I was in line at 7-Eleven behind a woman who the clerk referred to as “Liz.” She was probably about 30 years older than he and affectionately called the clerk, “Mitchy,” although the name on his shirt clearly read “Mitch.” After their five-minute conversation about her ambitious gardening enterprises and the latest shenanigans of a dog she was “about ten seconds away from driving out to the goddam country,” Liz managed to make her way out of the store. Mitch turned to me, “How’re you doing today, sir?” “Doing well,” was all I could get out. The rest of my time with Mitch was spent in uncomfortable silence. Next.
• Hours of Operation – Gone are the days of random 3am gunshots from the low-income housing behind my bedroom. No more coming home at midnight to find half the neighborhood still awake, yelling at the television or each other. Besides the McDonald’s and the APlus, it’s tough work finding something open after 10pm. Lights off. It’s bedtime. I’m sure you can imagine how troubling that might be for a night-owl like myself. Last night, I was in bed at 11pm. I don’t think that’s happened since I was actually 11. My only options for going out somewhere were to either (a) do about 50 round trips through the Mickey D’s drive-thru or (b) head down to the 7-Eleven and engage Mitch in a discussion about Liz’s misbehaving canine. Thanks, but no. On the upside, I’ve never gotten better sleep. Hmmm. Think there’s something to that?

That’s all I got for now but I’m sure I’ll be making more discoveries in the course of readjusting to suburban life. Stay tuned.   

Quotation: And all this means you can expect an unrelenting, unyielding effort from this administration to strengthen our prosperity and our security – in the second hundred days and the third hundred days and all the days after. – President Obama

Tune: A while back, I heard Marching Band’s “For Your Love” on an episode of “How I Met Your Mother.” Having a song featured on a TV show or a movie has become the new “making it big.”

Gallimaufry: Yesterday, Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke informed Congress that the economy should experience an upswing in the second half of this year. He went on to say that all would still not be right with the economy but there would be mild improvement. Hey. It’s a start. ∞ Everyone can rest easy. The Wayne Coyne-Win Butler brouhaha is now officially over. You might recall I covered this back in March. Coyne, lead singer of The Flaming Lips, has apologized: “I wish whatever had been said wouldn’t have been taken as such a defiant statement by The Flaming Lips because it wasn’t…I was talking about the dudes running their stages.” Weird. Compare that with his previous statement: “Whenever I’ve been around them, I’ve found that they not only treated their crew like shit, they treated the audience like shit.” Whatever happened to real rock feuds? I mean, neither Axl Rose nor Vince Neil looked like they could’ve beaten their way out of a wet paper bag, but at least they talked a good game. As of yet, there’s no official response from Butler and Arcade Fire to Coyne’s back-pedaling. ∞ After what must have seemed like an eternity (I know it did to me), the 13th Annual Webby Awards, “honoring excellence on the internet,” were announced. Among this years Special Achievement Award Winners, Jimmy Fallon for Webby Person of the Year and Twitter for Webby Breakout of the Year. No word yet on where I fell in the voting. I’m sure I’ll be receiving a call sometime soon. ∞ After completing this post, I found out that Dom DeLuise died yesterday at the age of 76. My immediate reaction was to watch the outtakes from Cannonball Run. I’m not sure why. Rest in peace, Dom.

Incoming: Tomorrow – Annoying Sayings & Misused Words Friday – 3 Things To Do In Philly When You’re Dead and some other interesting stuff.

Day after day I checked my mailbox after class, and day after day I was disappointed. But alas, this past week finally brought great joy to my world, as my Miroir Noir special edition DVD finally arrived in the mail. It’s been a few months since the first announcements for this documentary, which features Arcade Fire and everything surrounding the release of Neon Bible in 2007, surfaced and I couldn’t try and count how many times I had watched the trailer. And when Pitchfork streamed it for a week I managed to only watch about 5 minutes, as to not ruin the arrival of my leather bound accordion styled DVD case.

So hype abound and anticipation boiling over, I watched Miroir Noir from start to finish and immediately followed it with the special features disc. I couldn’t get enough Neon Bible. Which is interesting to note because that album really put me off for about a year before I finally started enjoying it. 

The way the Documentary is shot is amazing, first off. I’ve seen various live DVDs and documentaries by now, and I enjoy most of them merely for the fact that they offer a different view about said band without really doing anything too crazy or original. But the fascination I now have with Miroir Noir stems from the fact that it mixes behind the scenes bits with well shot and breathtaking live tracks. Most interestingly though, it integrates one of the best fan involved projects ever: the Neon Bible telephone hotline. Playing various clips from fans (and one guy they apparently lost and who would have been “the greatest fan ever”) overtop of some abstractly shot yet perfectly placed scenes makes the documentary sometimes feel more like a movie than a straight live compilation.

There’s one scene in particular, where Regine is just running down the beach as the camera follows. It’s incredibly shaky and half-hard to make out who it is at first, but then to see the members of Arcade Fire like Regine with their guard down and their smiles wide is an engrossing feeling (almost like when the percussion parts collide in “My Body is a Cage”). Another thing that astonished me was the way Win Butler was portrayed through all of it. I sort of always took him for a complete asshole, a man who seemed closed off and very bitter yet powerful. But in Miroir Noir there’s a scene of him and another band member just dancing around while he lip syncs and smiles; it’s revealing, and it’s something that a lot of other documentaries never really touch on: the human side of things. 

Seeing the glee in Regine’s eyes and voice when she finally gets to record “No Cars Go” with a full orchestra is beautiful. The examples go on and on, and sometimes out-do the brilliant filming done during the live shows. Close up, perfect audio, and great crowd clips all coupled with a few times when the camera work is so great you forget about the music itself make the DVD a worthy purchase for any and all Arcade Fire fans. 

I own the special edition, which features some great clips if you can afford the $25 price point instead of $15. A couple of SNL clips, including the hard to find parts when their sound gets cut out and they perform in the crowd. An extensive and awesome BBC session (worth the ten dollars alone) and then some other late night takes as well. Coupled with the better packaging and you’re looking at a great collector’s item if you’re a big fan of their work. 

As far as documentaries go… 9.5/10

Directed by: Vincent Morisset

Shot by: Vincent Moon

If you are a fan of Arcade Fire you are likely wondering where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks they’ve been lately.  There is good news!! Win Butler has confirmed that they are back and ready to refocus on their music!!

I know I’ve mentioned it before but I ran into some of the band at the Radiohead concert last summer in Montreal.  I was staring up Win’s nose…. that guy is tall.

On that note here is a little Rebellion for you:

[Note: Today's post is a little longer than usual due to the passing of Philadelphia's legendary broadcaster, Harry Kalas - a man who will forever be remembered as "The Voice of the Philadelphia Phillies."]

Word: sycophant [sik-uh-fuhnt, - fant, sahy-kuh-] n. a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite

Birthday: Shorty Rogers (1924), Rod Steiger (1925), Loretta Lynn (1935), Pete Rose (1941), Richard Jeni (1957), Brad Garrett (1960), Robert Carlyle (1961), Anthony Michael Hall (1968), Adrien Brody (1973), Sarah Michelle Gellar (1977), Win Butler (1980)

Occurence: 1865 – Abraham Lincoln is shot from behind by in Ford’s Theatre by John Wilkes Booth.

Standpoint: I remember one afternoon in college. My buddy Joe Taylor and I were watching NFL Films. I mentioned that the narrator’s voice sounded kind of familiar. Joe sat up from the couch. “You don’t know who that is?” I told my friend I didn’t. “It’s Harry Kalas! The guy who calls Phillies games with Richie Ashburn!  Are you shitting me?”I wasn’t “shitting” him. I just wasn’t an avid Phillies fan. At that point, I saw no reason to stir Joe up any further by explaining to him I didn’t know who Richie Ashburn was.

Harry Kalas died yesterday at the age of 73 while preparing to call a Phillies-Nationals game in Washington D.C. Before that afternoon with Joe, I did know who he was. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a baseball fan. Growing up in Philadelphia, it was nearly impossible to not know the man who could’ve patented the phrase, “It’s outta here!”  After college, I eventually did get into baseball and came to share the common reverence held for “The Voice of the Philadelphia Phillies.” He was one of those rare announcers whose love for the game and his team oozed out into the living rooms of all watching. His soothing voice could go from completely relaxed to incredibly excited with the swing of a bat.

The game of baseball lost a true living legend yesterday. The one silver lining being repeated everywhere was that at least Kalas lived long enough to see one more Phillies World Championship last October. I was actually outside Citizens Bank Park when it happened and heard Kalas call it live when Brad Lidge got that third out. Simultaneously, I heard the roar from the crowd in the stadium. My friends out in the parking lot, looked toward the ballpark and lamented the fact that we weren’t inside to experience the ensuing euphoria. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I got to hear the best broadcaster in baseball history call the final out of the World Series. It was the people inside who missed out.

Further Reading.

“Phils Announcer Kalas Dies”

National Baseball Hall of Fame & Museum’s Official Harry Kalas link

YouTube clip of Harry Kalas singing “High Hopes”

“Commercials, NFL Keeps Him Hip, but for Harry Kalas Baseball is Still the Thing”

“Remembering Harry the K” (thanks to Phinally Philly for the link)

2002 Sports Illustrated profile where Kalas does a play-by-play of John Sellers eating a chilupa. (thanks to John Sellers for the link)

Quotation: Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side and it holds the universe together. - Carl Zwanzig

Tune: I first heard this song back on MTV’s 120 Minutes. (Remember when MTV played good songs?) “Mr E.’s Beautiful Blues” immediately made me buy everything I could by Eels.

Gallimaufry: Amazon.com is under fire for their new “adult” policy. The online bookstore has being accused of removing only “adult” literature dealing with homosexuality. (Amazon is claiming a glitch on the site.) Click here to learn more and sign the petition. (Thanks to Beth Treisner)…I suspect that “Facebook Users Get Worse Grades in College” is the first of many articles I’ll read in the next year about the negative effects of the popular social networking site…Al Franken is still not a United States Senator but it appears to be a matter of time until he is. Hey, Minnesota, let the guy in already. Jesse “The Body” Ventura used to be your governor. I mean, seriously.

Incoming: Tomorrow – What’s StumbleUpon?  Thursday – More of your Annoying Sayings/Misused Words (This is now going to be a permanent Thursday thing.) Friday – 3 Things To Do In Philly When You’re Dead and 5 People I Wish Would Move to Another Planet.

The April 2nd issue of Rolling Stone (the one with the two chicks from Gossip Girl on the cover, chowing down on an ice cream cone) features some interesting quotes from Wayne Coyne (pictured above, top) of The Flaming Lips in reference to the Canadian band Arcade Fire (pictured above, bottom). Coyne told Rolling Stone’s Andy Greene, “We’ve played some shows with them, and they treated everyone in their vicinity like shit.” Coyne went on to say that Arcade Fire were assholes to their fans and crew. If that weren’t enough, Coyne added, “They have good tunes, but they’re pricks, so fuck ‘em.”

Arcade Fire didn’t comment to Rolling Stone about Coyne’s assertions, but Win Butler from the band wrote on the Web:

“The only time we have ever shared a stage with the Flaming Lips was . . . over three years ago. We arrived the morning of the show from Brazil, slept all day, and awoke into some surreal Vegas jet-lag dream in which we were playing after [them].”

Butler added:

“Unless I was way more jet-lagged then [sic] I remember, I hope I was less of a ‘prick’ then [sic] telling Rolling Stone that a bunch of people I don’t know at all are all really assholes.”

It’s kind of heart warming to see two bands from North America sniping at each other like this. These types of war of words usually go on between British acts. Bravo to Wayne Coyne for calling Arcade Fire out on their boorish behavior.

I can’t understand why any band would act like jerks to their fans and/or crew. I remember reading stories about how well bands like The Clash and The Jam treated their fans back in the day. And it’s probably not a coincidence that scores of fans still look back on The Clash and The Jam with great fondness. A lesson for Arcade Fire to learn, perhaps?

Whereabouts: Philadelphia, PA

Word: syllogism [sil-uh-jiz-uhm] noun 1. Logic. an argument the conclusion of which is supported by two premises, of which one (major premise) contains the term (major term) that is the predicate of the conclusion, and the other (minor premise) contains the term (minor term) that is the subject of the conclusion; common to both premises is a term (middle term) that is excluded from the conclusion. A typical form is “All A is C; all B is A; therefore all B is C.”   2. deductive reasoning  3. an extremely subtle, suggestive or deceptive argument

Birthday: James Madison (1751), Marlin Perkins (1905), Henny Youngman (1906), Pat Nixon (1912), Jerry Lewis (1926), Daniel Patrick Moynihan (1927), Tommy Flanagan (1930), Chuck Woolery (1941), Erik Estrada (1949), Nancy Wilson (1954), Flavor Flav (1959), Todd MacFarlane (1961), Patty Griffin (1964), Alan Tudyk (1971), Wolfgang Van Halen (1991)

Occurrence: 1995 – Mississippi becomes the last state to formally ratify the 13^th Amendment, officially banning slavery nationwide. It only took Ole Miss 130 years to jump on that bandwagon. Guess they were waiting to see if the rest of us were going to change our minds about the whole people-not-owning-people issue. Maybe they thought it was going to make a comeback?

Standpoint: We need to start a movement or an online petition or something. You, me and everyone we know need to unite and become a collective consciousness whose sole purpose is the elimination of ONE THING: CAPTCHAS. OK, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic but they are annoying. The folks at captcha.net have this to say about their invention, “a captcha is a program that protects websites against bots by generating and grading tests that humans can pass but current computer programs cannot.” I have news for you, captcha.net, most humans have trouble passing them, too. Take a look at this example. Why so squiggly and elongated? Is all that necessary? It seems that every time I go to make some snarky comment on some poor soul’s blog, I’m confronted with a captcha that looks like something I’m pretty sure must’ve been close to Salvadore Dali’s handwriting. After about 15 minutes of trying to figure out if that one letter is a lowercase “J” or a stretched-out lowercase “I”, I’m no longer impressed with the comment I was going to make and my attention wanders elsewhere.

Quotation: Art is the lie that enables us to reveal the truth – Pablo Picasso

Soupçon: The Beatles got the idea for the name of their band after John Lennon and Paul McCartney saw Buddy Holly and The Crickets at a show in Liverpool in 1958.

Tune: I’m not a huge singer-songwriter fan anymore but Jeb Loy Nichols is still one of the best around. Have a listen to “As the Rain.”

Link: Pipl – Want to see something spooky? Go this site, type in your name and see how much information there is about you on the internet. Eye-opening.

Gallimaufry: ESPN’s John Buccigross knows more about hockey than you do. Also, the man knows a ton about music and often references a band or artist he likes both on-air and in his weekly hockey column. Overall, Mr. Buccigross is a top-notch guy. Click HERE to see an entertaining video he did with the band Guster…This past Friday night, during a college basketball game, there was an altercation between the mascots of Utah State and New Mexico State. Apparently, a fan offered “Big Blue” (Utah State) $100 to rip off the moustache of “Pistol Pete” (New Mexico State). Utah State officials have stated that the money their mascot collected will be donated to charity…What is with all of these music artists dissin’ each other? In a recent post, I wrote about the feud between Miley Cyrus and Radiohead.  Now Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips is smack-talking Arcade Fire. Click HERE to read what Coyne said and then HERE to read Arcade Fire’s Win Butler’s response…According to this article, a recent breakthrough in battery technology might make it possible to recharge your cell phone in ten seconds…I caved this weekend. I’m now on Twitter. My hypocrisy knows no bounds…Just found this out as I was ready to post, Ron Silver has passed away. Great actor. He will be missed.

Hay grupos con los que entro en loop. Es escuchar una canción y sentir una necesidad incontrolable y urgente de volver a sumergirme en su discografía. Yo a Interpol los descubrí entre su segundo y tercer disco, así que prácticamente me llegó su tormenta postpunkera de sopetón. Pero desde entonces, de vez en cuando, en un bar, en un anuncio de la tele, suena una de sus canciones, tan perfecta, tan equilibrada, tan delicada y potente a la vez. Y tengo que correr a machacarme sus canciones, adelantándome milésimas de segundo en mi mente a ese golpe de ritmo, ese bajo adusto, melancólico y vituoso de Carlos D, a la guitarra prodigiosa y sensual de Daniel Kessler o las letras de Paul Banks, crípticas y líricas, sugerentes o desesperanzadas. Y a su voz grave y canalla, sin excesos, pero donde cualquier detalle desata toda la emotividad y fuerza.

Interpol lleva muchos años currando en ésto de la música y no son de los que se han sumado al postpunk de refilón. Son postpunk, pero tienen muchísimas influencias. Algunos de ellos han militado en otras bandas, como es el caso de Sam Fogarino, que además tiene un proyecto paralelo con Adam Franklin (Swervedriver) que se llama Magnetic Morning, o Carlos D, que hace remixes y es un sabio musical. Y tanto los años como grupo como sus gustos caleidoscópicos se notan, para bien, en su música. Compacta, convencida, inequívoca.

Y eso es lo que más me gusta de estos cuatro musicazos, que han conseguido un estilo tan propio sin hacer nada excesivamente novedoso ni copiar descaradamente lo antiguo. En una palabra, Interpol son elegancia. Todo lo que hacen lo vuelven grácil, liviano pero profundo, distinguido, irresistible. Son una lección viva de música. Y están en estado de gracia. Y ahora mismo, grabando en el estudio. Poco se sabe más, no sabemos nada de los temas ni del título del disco ni de su fecha de lanzamiento. Lo único que hemos leído en su web es que las experiencias individuales y el tiempo de descanso tras la gira OLTA han hecho de ellos “una banda nueva”. Y que están “muy centrados”.

A mí me han gustado todos su discos, aunque a muchos fans les da dentera el último. Cada uno es diferente y tiene su aquel. Esperemos que el regreso de la que yo creo que es una de las grandes bandas del momento no nos decepcione. Yo creo que no. ¡Y es que esta espera se nos está haciendo muuuuuy larga!

Y en otro orden de cosas, leo que The Flaming Lips cargan contra Arcade Fire por “presuntuosos y tratar más a su público”. Wayne Coyne dice de los tejano-canadienses que son unos “capullos” y que no se merecen la cobertura que le brindan los medios. “Que les den por culo”, ha añadido. Win Butler se ha defendido diciendo que apenas coincidieron en un festival años ha, que no recuerda siquiera haber hablado con Wayne y que lo que más le jode es que haya dicho que los Arcade Fire tratan “mal” a su público. Que yo sepa, dan conciertazos y no tienen fama de rácanos ni bordes…

Pero Arcade Fire no es la única banda contra la que han arremetido últimamente. La envidia es muy mala. Miley Cyrus, sí, Hannah Montana, la hija del infame Billy Rae Cyrus inventor de la versión original del No rompas más mi pobre corazón, quiso conocer a Radiohead en la ceremonia de los Grammy. Thom y los suyos pasaron un poco del tema y la cría se pilló un berrinche de categoría. Podéis escucharlo aquí. Pensemos que suficiente tiene la pobre con ser hija de quien es…

Y antes de irme, una pequeña recomendación. Se llama Say hi to you mum (Say Hi) y su canción Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh está dedicada a una chica que se parece a Marie Louise Parker, la adorable y sexy prota de Weeds. Aquí su myspace.

Y un vídeo alucinante de una canción que roza lo místico que llevo escuchando con bastante frecuencia esta semana. La traición se huele en el ambiente y nadie como J pasa del lamento al despecho. Un camino de torturas y de sufrimiento que me ha traído donde ahora sigo muerto, rezando para que alguien me levante del suelo, donde estoy abandonado. Así que te pedí lo menos y no quisiste darme nada  y ahora que ya no te quiero, me llamas, me llamas …

*Games: Fall Out Boy and Pearl Jam both have videogames.

*Law: Coolio was arrested at LAX airport on suspicion of possessing crack. Note: Don’t bring crack to an airport. [tds]

*Maps: See at a glance what the drinking ages across the globe are. Additionally, here is a map of migration habits of the sockeye salmon. [smartmobs]

*Trends: At 8:25 pm central time today “Ickett” was the third most-searched term on Google trends. Ickett is what M.I.A. did not name her child. Also, not Ickitt.

*Relationships: Hulu and Boxee are fighting. (Hulu blocks Boxee’s access to public RSS feeds.) Also, The Arcade Fire and the Flaming lips are fighting.

It looks like Win (follow link to Win’s scrapbook) got the best of Wayne in this little junior high skirmish.

What’s that saying about the pot and the kettle?

To give credit where credit is due my buddies like Taylor P, Firpo, and Baby Beutts really got me into this group.  Arcade Fire is an Indie Rock Band based out of Canada.  Similar to Beirut, Arcade Fire is known for their use of extremely large instruments.  Their two albums Funeral (2005) and Neon Bible (2007) were unbelievably huge hits.  I unfortunately got into this band a split second too late.  The band is currently taking a break I guess, and I missed their last live concert tour which happened about three months before I got into the band…..whoops.

For all of those people who read these, this site is for getting free music. It’s extremely fucking chill just click on the link and you have arcade fire. cool? I have been getting a lot of questions in that regard…..anyway enjoy your lives.

WOOO HOOOO I’M ARCADE FIRE!!!!!

Arcade Fire

Neon Bible

To be honest, all I really did tonight was watch Lost, so I’m posting a photo my friend Tim sent me around 8:30 p.m. from DC. It simply said “Obama Staff Party” and “Arcade Fire!!!!” He’s the executive director of the Rhode Island democratic party, and was in the thick of it:

The shareef don’t like it
Rockin’  the Casbah
Rock the Casbah…

Rock the Casbah se escribió y compuso al final de la carrera de The Clash como grupo. Aparentemente es superficial, desenfadada y decadente, sin embargo, es un temazo con crítica ácida y cierto humor, un derroche de potencia vocal de Joe Strummer, una base de percusión hipnótica y un guiño en toda regla al eclecticismo. Aunque la MTV y su cultura videomusical llegaran más tarde a España, recuerdo perfectamente el vídeo. Y es que esos primeros vídeos que nos llegaban a la tele son algún tipo de impronta indeleble en nuestra memoria pop. Aquello que veíamos era magnético, era lo que venía de fuera, lleno de glamour y modernidad. Alimento para nuestras fantasías a ritmo de pop o de rock. Prácticamente canciones de cuna que redescubrimos años después y que nos retrotraen a los plácidos 80.

Hoy, volviendo a escuchar Rock the Casbah (o cualquiera de los temazos de The Clash) adivinamos una lección magistral de cómo hacer música: los ochenta, laboratorio de fusión de géneros, reinterpretación de los experimentos de la década anterior y toma de conciencia política y social. Melodías y ritmos que recordaban a los de otras músicas (es interesante cómo los músicos británicos miraban al mundo árabe y musulman, hasta hace unos años colonia del Imperio, con ejemplos como la propia Rock the Casbah o temas de The Police como Bombs Away, Tea in the Sahara), maneras de secuestar o adoptar todo aquello que pudiera rearmar melodías, estructuras o formas (Paul Simon y Peter Gabriel echaron mano de los que se hacía en África, por ejemplo).

The Clash se vendía en promociones como “The Only Band that Matters”. Y en la conciencia de éstos británicos estaba un mundo global, mucho antes de que se empezara a hablar de la globalización. No sólo eso, eran un grupo con memoria histórica. Y también con sentido del momento y lugar. Su This is England es todo un himno y ojalá nosotros tuvieramos un himno alternativo como ese.

Pero el legado de The Clash no está sólo en los grupos que hacen ska o escriben canciones de rollo anarca. Sólo hay que ver el sample de Straight to Hell que cuela  MIA en su Paper Planes.

O los guiñitos contínuos de Win Butler  de Arcade Fire (a veces cierro los ojos y cuando lo escucho cantar hasta pienso que es Joe,  aunque en esta versión de Guns of Brixton el que cante sea su hermanísimo Will Butler).

Pero mi favorita es Rock the Casbah, la canción perfecta para liarse con un desconocido.

Win Butler stands on a balcony, with only a mic and the dark sky to keep him company, belting out the beginning lyrics of “Keep the Car Running.”  Random answering machine messages are played from calls placed to 1-866-Neonbible, with some being messages of hope, some of hate, some of sheer desperation.  There is also an awesome takeway show where the band is squeezed into an elevator and the beat is kept with the ripping of pages out of a book.  

Miroir Noir was released by Arcade Fire on December 15th.  It is a documentary on the band’s live shows, recording sessions, and random goofy moments. It covers the warming up and the cooling down.  Intriguingly, it brings a sort of humanity to one of the most notable indie rock bands of the 21st century.  If you are a fan of Arcade Fire then their 76 minute documentary is a must have.

A punto de acabar el año, dejo mi superlista de los 10 mejores discos de 2008.

1.- Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend.

Deliciosamente frescos, han culminado 2008 como gran revelación. Su disco admite infinitas escuchas, combina el carpe diem con elegantes propuestas (ritmos africanos + iconografía entre lo surrealista y lo pop + toques barrocos). Cada tema es un single en potencia, disfrutable en cualquier contexto y estado anímico. El must de 2008. Irresistibles, adictivos, divertidos.

2.- Dear Science, TVotR

Lo pop y lo eléctrónico pueden convivir sin problemas en un disco maduro, con toques líricos brillantes, melodías casi hipnóticas. TVotR prometían para este año y con creces salvan la papeleta. Un disco riquísimo que se deja disfrutar, que hace acopio de influencias y tempos con absoluta maestría.

3.- Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes

Otro descubrimiento de 2008. Un discazo en toda regla que en momentos se sumerge en lo folkie, otras veces toma prestado de la Americana Music y otras, hace guiños a lo clásico (ya sean las raices del rock o las voces delicadamente empastadas a lo Brian Wilson).

4.- Narrow Stairs, Dead Cab for Cutie

Porque DCfC son un grupo magnífico, porque retoman lo bueno que encontramos en Transatlaticism para darle una vuelta de tuerca hacia la madurez. Porque es un disco por otra parte arriesgado, profundo, con muchas aristas y lleno de momentos plenos y muy dramáticos, eso sí, sin perder la templanza de las emociones bien contadas.

5.- Person Pitch, Panda Bear

Otro sorpresón para 2008, el disco en solitario de un orgulloso miembro de Animal Collective repleto de claves y guiños. No sé si Brian Wilson lo habrá llegado a oir, lo que sé es que es un homage en toda regla, y a su vez, un tesoro de pistas de lo que va a ser la música en los próximos años. Inteligente, con melodías extraordinarias y sonidos sorprendentes y excitantes.

6.- Hold on now, youngster…, Los Campesinos!

Los británicos tienen argumentos y lo mejor de todo es que son herederos de muchos grupos fantásticos. Y que tan prometedores que son, van superando expectativas. Su disco es eficaz, divertido, mordaz, bailable, tarareable y otro montón de cosas buenas que no caben en tres líneas.

7.- Alegranza!, El Guincho

Siguiendo la estela de los Animal Collective, este canario hace lo propio y enriquece sus temas con otras influencias: música africana, canaria, caribeña, brasileña. Al final, un compendio de tropicalismo pasado por la batidora y sembrado de optimismo, diversión y buen gusto.

8.- Oracular Spectacular, The MGMT

Otro debut muy destacado. Canciones que se convierten en himnos antropológicos del siglo XXI, ritmos sugerentes, canciones bien despachadas y la pose adecuada. Puedes bailar, sentir la angustia de ser joven, escucharlos de fondo o berrear sus estribillos pegadizos. Un acierto.

9.- Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst

No esperaba menos Oberst, una nueva colección de historias bien envueltas. Montones de influencias bien entretejidas y la soberbia voz del de Omaha. Quizá un ejemplo de que se pueden hacer discos de calidad de manera regular si se tiene talento y los pies siguen en la tierra.

10.- You & Me, The Walkmen.

Un puñado de canciones sobre la soledad, la melancolía, el amor… canciones que duelen, que parecen maulladas con rabia en lugar de cantadas. Una sensación es escuchar algo íntimo y antiguo y a la vez tremendamente actual. Con aplomo y a la vez, una sensación de ligereza casi onírica.

Me despido con una canción de éstos ultimos para felicitaros las fiestas, porque a la mayoría ya los podéis haber escuchado u oído en éste blog. In the New Year.

Y nos vamos de vacaciones, así que no actualizaré hasta entrado 2009.

Ah, y antes de irme, buenas noticias. Leo en Pitchfork que Arcade Fire preparan ya el nuevo disco. Y por favor, el que le rompiera la luna del coche a Win Butler y le robara el Ipod, que se lo devuelva. Joder, es Navidad.