37??

Two posts in one day? Has the world gone mad? Has hell frozen over? Well, I guess it has. Although, more importantly, the new Weezer single is up online. And it’s pretty ruddy good, which is good, since 2005’s Make Believe was slightly mediocre and…well, boring.

It appears on this, the band’s third self-titled album, Rivers and co are returning to that heavy rock/pop sound of, er, their first self-titled album. And, it seems, Mr Cuomo is starting to grow up a bit, which is nice - that air of teenage naivety/whining still hung around the aformentioned Make Believe. Here, rather than emo musings on love, he sings about going to the gym so he can “fit his underwear”. Although he does make some worrying references to Timbaland, which is a massive step-down to name checking Buddy Holly. Oh well.

The new self-titled album, which is prospectivley being called the Red album, is out June 24th, and is produced by Weezer, Jacknife Lee and Rick Rubin.

Download “Pork and Beans (Radio Rip) (right click, save target as)

Also, did you know Rivers Cuomo was 37? I just read it on his wiki. Jesus, 37. It really is about time he grew up.

Album Review: The Long Blondes - “Couples”

It seems for their second album, Couples, The Long Blondes have decided to follow the disco-ish route they took on the song “Giddy Stratospheres” from their debut, Weekend Without Makeup, and gone from charming indie to full-blown 80s pop. The immediate effect of this change is that lead singer Kate Jackson has somehow become even more sexy.

The Long Blondes - “Couples”
Rough Trade Records

Lead-off track and rightful single “Century” is pure 80’s new-wave - all Duran Duran underwater-sounding bass, with Jackson’s sultry vocals over the top proving to be preferrable to Simo LeBon’s bellowing. “Guilt” goes down a more funky disco route, although it also leans to the vocal stylings and choppy guitar of the first album. Which is no bad thing.

“The Couples” leans even further to the band’s style circa Someone To Drive You Home, although there’s no threat of falling over; it’s also got an edge of 60’s girl-band pop, mixed with a bit of bubblegum punk, although it doesn’t really go anywhere.

Befitting of a song that’s 1:58 long, “I Liked The Boys” is a good old fashioned New York punk song, with a bit of Talking Heads added for good measure. Having run out of good 80s styles, “Here Comes The Serious Bit” nicks the opening synths of the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star” and plops it into the Blondes’ previous single “Seperated By Motorways”. Slightly underwhelming.

Things pick up with the slow and sinister “Round The Hairpin”, which also has a bit of the Talking Heads about it, although it’s more reminiscnet of the repetitive, ominous beats of David Byrne and Brian Eno’s collaboration, My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts. This is a very good thing indeed, though the song does drag on for a bit.

“Too Clever By Half” repeats the slow, funky stylings with some breathy, falsetto vocals, while “Erin O’Connor” is another relapse into Someone To Drive You Home propulsive punk (with added bells and whistles). “Nostalgia”…is also a bit like Talking Heads. Methinks Byrne and co were being played a lot in the studio, especially Stop Making Sense, considering the similarity of this song’s simplistic drum loop to that heard in the stripped-down live version of “Psycho Killer” on the aformentioned Heads album.

“I’m Going To Hell”, much as was the case with the closer on We Are Scientists’ Brain Thrust Mastery, is, aruguably, one of the best tracks on the album; a cacophony of clashing pianos, drums, guitar and the like, reminiscnet of the Flaming Lips’ cover of “What A Wondeful World”, only a lot more upbeat (in terms of music, anyway).

The lyrics on this album, clearly a lot less inspired by Jarvis Cocker than the last time, are a lot less girly posturing, and much more grown-up relationship talk; if the first album was a 19-year-old girl’s diary, “Couples”‘s lyrics are more like a column in a glossy Sunday paper supplement. Which makes it sound crap, so that is a crap comparsion. But I’m sure after you’ve heard the album you’ll agree with me. Or at least think I’m an idiot.

So it looks like The Long Blondes are this year’s first sophomore album success story; not by trying to grow up and sound darker and more serious, but by growing up, feeling more confident in themeslves, and having fun.

Download “The Couples”

Album Review: Crystal Castles

Cross-posted on akuhei bakery

I guess I was wrong. Despite my initial reservations, Toronto-based duo Crystal Castles‘ glitchy, weird sound has stretched out to a full-length album. And it’s pretty great, too. Read on!

Crystal Castles - Self-titled
Last Gang Records

Crystal Castles are, unfortunately, not named after the old Atari game, but rather, a location from the old She-Ra cartoon. It’s unfortunate since

A - Atari games have a lot more old-school cool than crappy He-Man knock-offs

and B - Talking about the bleepy, primitively electronic noises that passed as music in retro games would have provided the perfect segue into talking about Crystal Castles’ own brand of bleepy, primitively electronic noises.

The self-titled album opens with “Untrust Us” which, with it’s heavily-treated vocals courtesy of singer Alice Glass, and washes of plinky-plonky Nintendo-synths from multi-instrumentalist Ethan Kath, is probably the best opening track you can hope to get. Because, if you like it, you’re sure to continue; however, if you absolutely hate it, you’ll rip the CD out straight away, and sell it on eBay.

And it’s good to get those haters out of the way before “Alice Practice” which they would despise; in fact, I hated it when I first heard it. Mainly because it sounds like Alice is desperately shouting over the sounds of someone playing Space Invaders. Once again, if you liked the sound of that, you’ll probably like the rest of the album; however if you didn’t, stick with it anyway, since the thrash-electro doesn’t return until “XXZXCUZX Me” (which is under two minutes) and “Love And Caring” (which is only slightly over).

The rest of the album sticks with the “weirdly dark, somewhat-ambient-but-still-upbeat, low-fi sound” I described in my initial post, one insanely catchy songs like “Crimewave”, which become less weirdly dark on second single “Air War”, hopefully future single “Courtship Date”, the slightly-overlong instrumental “Magic Spells”, and the short-but-sweet “Good Times”.

We also get a slice perfect dark-pop in “Vanished”, with sampled vocals from Aussie band Van She recalling Cut Copy. This is where things go slightly off, as the band sort of run out of ideas. While most of the songs on the album up to this point hadn’t deviated from the glitch-electronic template, sometimes using incredibly-similar sounding drum loops, I sort of liked that; it had a Kraftwerk quality, and tied the whole album together.

Tracks 11 onwards are all rather throwaway, at least, after you’ve heard the first ten tracks. “Knights” is another one that sounds like the boss battle music from some old Atari game; “Love And Caring” is basically a re-hash of “Alice Practice”; while as “Through The Hosiery”, “Reckless” and “Black Panther” sound just like the rest of the album (although the latter does up the tempo a bit). Album closer “Tell Me What To Swallow”, despite the porny-sounding title, is a rather sweet, possibly acoustic little love ballad, with Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”-style echo effects on Alice’s vocals. Which is a perfect end to a not-so-perfect album.

While not exactly a 5 star record, I would highly recommend Crystal Castles’ debut to anyone who is intrigued by what they’ve read here, or any songs they’ve heard around the place, as it is genuinely fresh and interesting (unless you listen to glitch music, which I can’t, since I find it, well, unlistenable) and pretty darn danceable. I’m looking forward to seeing how they’ll develop their sound, unless, and I’ve got a bad feeling they might, CC turn out to be another one of those bands (such as Test Icicles, or label mates Death From Above 1979), who make an enjoyabley original debut with a lot of promise, only to split up soon after.

Not that I can see Alice Glass doing a Dev Hynes style folk album…

Download “Alice Practice”
Download “Courtship Date”

Crystal Castles on MySpace
Crystal Castles remixes on MySpace

Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together

Cross-posted on akuhei bakery

If, like me, you are an avid fan of Bryan Lee O’ Malley’s Scott Pilgrim series of graphic novels will probably be aware of Plumtree, the Canadian all-girl indie pop band, whether you not it or not. The books are peppered with references to the group, from the titular character’s “Mass Teen Fainting” t-shirt (the name of the foursome’s first album), to the name of the series itself; O’ Malley, under his recording name of Kupek has also covered their songs (see last week’s Weekend Mix).

So, why have you never heard of Plumtree until you read Scott Pilgrim (or, if you still haven’t, until this stupid blog post)? That is a question I wish I could answer, but can’t. Because there is no reason. The group are just such a perfect pop-rock group, I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of them when I first got my hands on their sophomore, and possibly best, album, Predicts the Future.

Formed in 1993 when the Gillis sisters (Lynette, aged 14, on drums; Carla, 17, on guitar and vocals) met Amanda Braden (15, guitar and vocals) and Nina Martin (16, bass) through mutual music teachers, in their hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia. The teaming of Amanda and Carla’s duelling rhytmn and lead guitars, along with their sweetly harmonising vocals, are what underpins the greatness of Plumtree. By 1995 the group had recorded Mass Teen Fainting, their debut full-length album, which was a college radio hit. Around this time, Nina Martin left the band go to McGill University, and was replaced by Catriona Sturton.

Plumtree’s second album, Predicts the Future, was recorded in 1997 and released in 1998, and was full of awesome indie-rock pop songs, from the melancholic “You Just Don’t Exist” to the heavy-ish riot-grrrl style “Scott Pilgrim” (which you can download below). The album found it’s way to the #1 spot on the national college radio chart, Earshot, as well as propelling Plumtree onto the covers of weekly magazines, including Canada’s music monthly, Exclaim!.

Soon after the release of their third album, This Day Won’t Last at All, which saw the band’s sound mature in the direction evident from the sad, country-ish “I Love You When You’re Walking Away” from Predicts The Future, Plumtree played their final show at the Marquee Club in their hometown of Halifax, before following their original bass player by returning to their respective university.

This isn’t the end, though; the talent that was evidenced by this group of individuals was not squandered (Christ, I sound like a narrator in a CS Lewis novel). While Amanda Braden, Catriona Sturton and Nina Martin continue to study, Lynette and Carla Gillis continue to perform in the trio Bontempi, and Carla also records solo under her own name. They’re really rather good, and I’d recommened you to check both them, and Plumtree out.

Download “Scott Pilgrim”

Buy Plumtree’s albums in MP3 format @ Zunior

Plumtree on MySpace
Bontempi on MySpace
Carla Gillis on MySpace

References
Stained Pages interview with Plumtree
Plumtree on Wikipedia
Plumtree biography on MapelMusic

The End Of Days

Cross-posted on Second Hand Popcorn

Last night, after stumbling out from the screen into the jarringly bright lights of the cinema, feeling dishevelled and thoroughly un-amused, I had an epihphany.

THERE IS NO GOD.

The “film” I had just been witness to serves as enough evidence as to why I have come to this conclusion. Because, O my brothers, last night I went to see Meet The Spartans.

Meet The Spartans
In cinemas now (but please, don’t bother)

You know that feeling you get, when you’re watching one of those horrific news stories about a man who raped and killed dozens of kids, or something? And you just hate that person with every ounce of your being, and vow to yourself that, if you ever cross paths with the individual, you will throttle them to death with your bare hands? Well, that about sums up my feelings towards the makers of this “film”.

Actually, that might be unfair. I’m pretty sure that writer/producer/director team Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer are actually either

a) Special needs kids, or
b) 11-year-olds whose father took them to Fox studios on “Take Your Kid To Work Day”, where they promptly wrote the script in crayons

Such is the quality of the finished product. Supposedly a spoof of 300, Meet The Spartans also finds time to poke fun at any number of pop-culture icons from 2007. And by poke fun, I mean put in the film hoping to raise a wry smile because you vaguely recognise them. You get Ugly Betty as the mysterious oracle - and, er, that’s it. Then there’s Paris Hilton, whose character is dumb and blonde. Then Britney Spears, whose character is dumb and blonde. And Rocky, for some reason. And any film that disses Rocky must have been created by morons, right?

I should probably also point out that all these “famous faces” have to have their names exclaimed out loud by other characters, since the actors/actresses portraying them don’t look a thing like them. Which isn’t good if your supposed to be an impersonator.

The principle cast, meanwhile, is just as unimpressive; leading man Sean Maguire, previously seen in, uh, Grange Hill and Eastenders over here in the UK (so christ knows why he was in this), has little…well, anything. Comic timing, wit, screen presence…he could easily have been replaced with a piece of blank paper stapled to a broom. Carmen Electra breaks away from her usual roles by playing the sexy slut. Kevin Sorbo, TV’s Hercules, struggles to hide the sadness evident in his face, the sure sign of a washed-up actor. Oh, and Ken Davitian, aka the “fat guy from Borat” (the narrators words, not mine) turns up. Playing the fat guy from Borat, except he’s speaking in English.

Much like with recent “comedians” like Russell Brand and Dane Cook, and comedies like Epic Movie, I just…don’t get what about this film is supposed to be funny. It basically plays like one of those end-of-year TV shows they have on New Year’s Eve, where they show clips from all the music, films and pop-culture events from the year. only without any witty commentary - they’re just replicated. In a completley shoddy, unfunny way.

Oh, and before I forget, there’s also some healthy doses of racism and sexism, just for good measure. Can’t have one of these dumb comedies (wait, scratch that - Anchorman’s a dumb comdedy, and I love it. This is a retarded comedy) without it.
I think I can safely say that while watching Meet The Spartans I laughed almost as much as I did when watching Schindler’s List. Which is to say, not at all.

Grindhouse Double Bill! Part Two: Planet Terror

Cross-posted on Second Hand Popcorn

Planet Terror
On DVD now

Hey kids! It’s time for part two of the Grindhouse review that I promised nearly a week ago! Woo!

Anyway, let’s get down to brass tacks. Planet Terror: this is more like it. Go-go dancer Rose McGowan fights zombies with her machine gun leg. Hells yeah.

If you’ll recall, in the Death Proof review I hilariously posted an image of me watching grey paint dry - a sly dig at how God-damn boring that film was. For Planet Terror, I have an equally representitive image, that sums up the quality of the film:

Yes, I am invoking the holy text of Die Hard 4.0, wherein John McClane, peace be upon him, killed a helicopter with a car because he ran out of bullets. That’s how awesome Planet Terror is. Didn’t you already read the bit about how Rose McGowan is a go-go dancer? Fighting zombies? With her machine gun leg? Huh?

I guess you want a full plot synopsis then. Well, in Planet Terror, rather than starting with boring girls talking, as Death Proof did, you get Rose McGowan dancing around in her skimpies. The film the continues to introduce bad-ass kung-fu truck driver Freddy Rodriguez, a testicle-slicing mad scientist played by Sayeed out of Lost, evil doctor Josh Brolin, Fergie out of the Black Eyed Peas as the good doctor’s wife’s secret kesbian lover and - oh yes - Bruce fucking Willis. John McClane himself is actually in this film. Conversley, at around this point in Death Proof…the boring girls were still sitting around talking.

Planet Terror really does deliver on the schlocky, OTT action promised by Rodriguez and Tarantino when these films were originally announced - there’s exploding heads, bags of balls (yes, those kind) and even a melting wang. Quentin Tarantino’s, actually.

Rodriguez’s reference points are obvious - the forboding mood and synthy score recalls John Carpenter (back when he was good), and the zombies are in thrall to Romero’s Living Dead series - Tom Savini, said series’ make-up maestro, appears here as a cop - and countless others. The film is also pretty straight-faced, in spite of it’s ridiculousness - Willis’ army general claims to have killed Osama bin Laden himself - which is a breath of fresh air in an age of tongue-in-cheek action films. And it just serves to make this film all the more like the awesome Grindhouse movies this is based on.

Oh, and a kid dies, which is always good. It makes up for the Haley Joel Osmonts and *shudder* Dakota Fannings of the movie world.

So, Death Proof - boring as shit, but has Kurt Russel.
Planet Terror - melting genitalia, machine gun legs, go-go dancing, zombies, lesbiabns, Bruce Willis

I think we have a clear winner, don’t you?

Grindhouse Double Bill! Part One: Death Proof

Cross-posted on Second Hand Popcorn

Since I was still slightly bitter about the debacle about the seperate releases given to Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino’s Grindhouse over here in the UK, the other night I staged my own “Grindhouse Night” with some friends, where we watched both of the featured films, Tarantino’s Death Proof and Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, back to back: the way they were meant to be seen.

So, anyway, as an extension of this whole double-bill love-in, it’s time for the Second Hand Popcorn Grindhouse Double-Bill Review. First up - Death Proof!

Death Proof
On DVD now

Despite the fact it was Tarantino’s idea to do the whole schlocky, gory, exploitative Grindhouse movies in the first place, Death Proof…well, isn’t really schlocky, gory, or exploitative. In fact, it’s boring. Really, painfully boring.

For the first 40 minutes of this 114 minute portion of Grindhouse, absolutley bugger all happens. Really. Nothing at all. Just a group of women sitting around talking bollocks. Now, I know Tarantino is no stranger to excessive dialogue. The thing is, I enjoyed his witty banter in…well, pretty much all his other films (excluding Kill Bill). But that’s because the people who were talking were both likeable, and damn awesome. Hitmen, jewllery thieves, psychos, crooked cops, boxers…the characters of Death Proof are nowhere near as interesting. They’re just people. And they are incredibly boring, completlety uinteresting people.

Now, if I wanted to some up the equivalent viewing experience of these first 40 minutes of Death Proof within a handy image and an over-used saying, it would be this;

At least in that scenario I could bet on which drip of paint would dry fastest, or something. There are no such luxuries with Death Proof. The film, up to this point, is (to paraphrase a Monty Python sketch) appallingly dull, unimaginitive, tedious, has no sense of humour and is “irrepresably drab and awful.

Luckily, though, Snake Plissken turns up to make things exciting for a bit.

Kurt Russel, who plays the character of Stuntman Mike (who is a stuntman. Named Mike.), turns up in the bar that the incredibly boring trio of women have been hanging around in, being boring. After some flirting, he manages to somehow get Rose McGowan (who wasn’t even in the boring group of friends) to get in his ‘death proof’ car - no matter how battered the car gets, he’s fine. It’s the people in the other seats that get messed up.

So, the film turns awesome for a little bit; well, about 2 minutes, since that’s about how long it takes Mike to roll huis car over and kill Ms McGowan. Then, in the tradition of films such as The Devil Wears Prada, I fast-forwaded for a bit. And you know what? The whole time used to build up the boring, annoying ladies’ ‘characters’ was a complete waste of time, since they are completley inconsequential to the rest of the film. Because they all die. And get replaced by a whole other set of boring, annoying girls.

Then, 1 hour and 40 minutes into the film, it turns awesome again (after a pointless car chase that could have easily ended if the girls just pulled over), annnnnnnd that’s it. Out of 114 minutes of film, about 10 minutes is of any entertainment value. And about 4 minutes of that is a lap-dancing scene.

Quentin, for the love of God; just make another crime film. Stop messing about with all this cult movie malarkey. This is, well, like an intervention. It’s for your own good.

Anyway, tommorrow, get ready for: Planet Terror! (which is a hell of a lot better)